The Force Always Says Yes [Star Wars]

[Hyenanon]

Spoiler: A/N

There comes a time in every writer's life where they have been fantasizing about a scene or an extended sequence for months, and going through the grueling work of getting there. Once they get there, they then spend the next 12 hours straight typing until 8:30 AM in the morning. I have hit that moment; everything from here on out exploded out of me, so I actually will be uploading a chapter per day until the arc is complete. Go figure!

Chapter 43: We're Not In Trouble Yet​

Nerim and Tetha entered the Wellspring together, and Tetha craned her neck around to see the interior. "Whoa. Definitely better than the Lucky Worm."

As she was speaking, Arwain's voice carried from around the doorway to the quarters. "Where have you two been?"

"We're only fifteen minutes late..." Nerim said defensively.

Fae walked around the corner of the storage room. "And that's not an answer."

"Fifteen minutes!" Nerim repeated. "That's barely a meditation session!"

Fae's eyes moved to Tetha, who stood perfectly still with her arms crossed, staring back at her with an utterly blank expression. They held each other's eyes as Arwain came hopping down the hallway on one foot, trying to work a new boot onto her other foot. She stopped when she got halfway down, and sniffed. "...Do I smell that disgusting local drink on you?!"

"Spelska Nagram is nice!" Nerim objected, gesturing to Fae. "It's nice, right?!"

Fae shrugged, finally breaking eye contact with Tetha. "I have no idea, I didn't pay any attention to it."

"I think you're in the minority on this, Jedi Boy," Tetha said dryly with a slight smile.

"Spast, let's just—" Nerim sighed and waved his arms. "Let's just move on."

Arwain finally got her boot on and made it into the main room, and then turned to them. "Tetha, what in the Corellian Hell are you wearing?"

Tetha stood there in an outfit primarily made of that extremely black hue of the Saarkanians, which the vendor had assured them was considered very sexy in Saarkanian society, giving the appearance of nudity to them. It was primarily made up of baggy pants and a short jacket, made of that particular material that sounds very tracksuity if it rubs against itself. It had pink and red accents, which mimicked the colors of friendliness and aggression, making it common wear in the dance scene. Underneath, there was an ultra-black leotard.

"The better question is why Nerim is still wearing that sleemo poy," Tetha said, gesturing to his Jedi uniform.

"We were late!" He frowned. It true in a very technical sense, but he primarily just used that as an excuse to chicken out.

Arwain stared at Tetha with a pained expression. Fae smiled. "Remember when—"

"Let's go," Arwain cut her off, "We don't want the Dark Siders to get away."

"Oh, now you listen to my orders," Fae chuckled, following her towards the cockpit.

As the two masters left the room, Nerim and Tetha found themselves alone among the plants. She exhaled quickly, in something that wasn't quite a laugh, looking around. "Well, this actually seems like the place for Nature Priest clothes."

"I think you look fine," Nerim helpfully offered.

Her eyes sliced towards him, and she smirked. "I know you do."

He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Anyways, what was it like with the Nature Priests?"

"Fine. They were annoyed at me sending you letters. Or any holonet connections, really," she sighed. "They had a lot to teach, but your time in this life is limited, y'know? Or well, maybe you don't."

"What do you mean by that?" Nerim asked, puzzled.

"Aren't your Masters immortal? Age wise, at least."

He shrugged. "Uh, maybe? I guess so. Why?"

"...They haven't taught you how to do that?"

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't know," he said, puzzled. "I never asked to learn it, I guess."

She sighed heavily and leaned back against a wall. "Damn it all, Nerim, I was hoping to poach that from you."

"Hey!" Arwain's voice carried from the cockpit. "Get in here, derelicts!"

Nerim nodded his head towards the cockpit and began walking, and Tetha shrugged and followed after. It was relatively spacious, with observation seats along the walls, although the pilot seat was occupied by a droid.

Nerim sat down opposite of the Masters, and Tetha sat next to him to his right. "What's our move?" He asked.

"Impromptu inspection of the Anatra Survey," Arwain shrugged. "And we hope that the strange woman you didn't arrest isn't leading us on a wild bantha chase. Any questions?"

He thought for a moment. "Should we inform the Governor? This is exactly the type of thing he wants us investigating, he would surely lend any help he can."

Arwain sighed. "I've been dreading that. I'd rather not get entangled in political affairs more than we have to. Such entanglements often prove...restraining."

Fae slowly nodded. "I have a similar instinct. Not only would he try to direct our attention to his whims, but in working with local authorities, we would be bound by the rules they must follow, which are far more constraining than the acts of lone Jedi."

"If we suspect corruption, which we ought to, any security forces he sends with us could just prove to be extra enemies at our back," Arwain added. "And if incompetent, they could destroy or displace evidence before we can find it."

"Okay, okay," Nerim raised his hands defensively, "You've made your points. I just think that we shouldn't underestimate their utility. If, for instance, a vital piece of evidence is placed on a shuttle and ejected, we aren't really capable of holding our own blockade. The Saarkanian System Defense Force would be."

"The Wellspring is easily capable of following such a vessel itself," Fae said as the ship began to gently lift from the hangar. "It's a sensible concern, but I think we're better off on our own."

Nerim shrugged, obviously outvoted. Tetha very slightly raised an eyebrow. "Real mavericks, huh?" She commented.

"Loose canons, definitely," Nerim joked.

Arwain smiled. "Do you have any questions, Tetha?"

"Yeah. So this Master Fay, what's her last name?"

Fae almost imperceptibly tilted her head backwards in fatigue, and closed her eyes. "It's just Fay. I don't know if she even had a surname, or if that was her surname."

"What if she's named Fay Kovin?" Tetha asked in a dry tone that belied no facetiousness.

"I find that exceptionally unlikely," Fae said, and sighed silently.

Tetha crossed her arms. "I just find it strange, in retrospect, that Jedi even keep their surnames at all. Aren't you supposed to break all ties with your former family?"

Arwain chuckled. "It's actually more for the former family's benefit, really. So that they can point to a Jedi with the same surname as them. It makes it a little easier to convince them to surrender their children for training. Also makes record keeping easier, since less Jedi share full names."

The Wellspring shook as it exited the atmosphere of Saarkane, the sky growing brighter around them until it darkened into open space. Fae opened one eye lazily. "What is your full name, Tetha?"

Tetha shrugged. "I'm not quite sure. My father registered me as Tetha Rhissa, but that was just so I was legally his daughter. We're not all that related, genetically, and I don't think I want to wear his name. Ah, although according to the witness protection program, my name is Meetra Taranni. Not that I've ever used it for anything but legal papers. I'm a little more attached to Tetha. It's what my friends call me..." She trailed off, staring into the distance out the cockpit window. Then she turned to Nerim. "What's your last name?"

Nerim blinked. "Nerim," he said simply.

She stared at him blankly for a moment. "I've...been calling you by your surname all this time...?"

He nodded.

"What's your first name?" She asked, her expression suddenly more intense, twisting in her seat to face him.

He shrugged. "I never got one. I was taken away from my parents very quickly."

"How quickly?!"

"The Jedi who recruited me was also the nurse who delivered me," he stated. "I got curious and read about it in the Archives a couple months ago. I was born on an airbus in the upper levels of Coruscant, which a Jedi happened to be taking. My parents relinquished me before naming me."

Tetha donned a rare, horrified expression. She turned to the Masters. "You're insane. You are crazy people."

"To be fair, they don't sound like they were the most responsible parents," Arwain meekly defended her Order, unable to make eye contact.

"Enough with the litigation of our recruitment procedures," Fae said. "It's time to set course."

The droid spoke in a halting voice, like each word was being manufactured on an assembly line as it was exiting his vocabulator. "The Anatra Survey Site is hosted in a distant asteroid field at the edge of the system. Conventional travel would take four days. We will be taking a short hyperspace jump to it instead. Charts clear, systems optimal. Affix your seatbelts. ETA 10 seconds from jump. Jumping to lightspeed in ten...nine..."

Nerim clicked his seatbelt in place. Nobody else did, and he silently frowned.

Arwain leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "...Anyone else have a weird itch?" She asked, eyes narrowed in thought.

Tetha grimaced. "I have a bad feeling about—"

Suddenly, Nerim felt as if a lightning bolt directly struck his spine, and his entire body jumped at the sensation. "Spast!" He shouted in surprise. "What was that?!"

They snapped to hyperspace, the ship smoothly transitioning into a superluminal state. Fae's single open eye closed, and she kept her head tilted back, as if she might fall asleep. "At least Nerim's source didn't mislead us. We are definitely heading directly into the jaws of the Dark Side."

The cockpit was silent for a tense, long moment, until Nerim shakily spoke up. "We've been in hyperspace for a lot longer than ten seconds."

The droid responded to him. "Apologies. Hyperspace unexpectedly tangled. Currently navigating to safe location. Calculating possible routes. Five trillion...Six trillion...Route found."

"Only one viable route in six trillion attempts?" Tetha asked in disbelief.

Arwain slowly sat up. "This is a trap," she said in breathless recognition. "We're being funneled."

"We must have been meant to hit a mass shadow," Tetha argued. "There's not a lot of computers out there that can calculate as fast as this droid. Any slower and we would've been paste. We're going to be dropping out through the one correct path. It will catch them offguard."

Arwain leveled her gaze on the young woman. "This is a trap meant for Jedi."

"Hold on to something," Fae said, inexplicably raising one of her arms straight up in the air.

Suddenly, they dropped out of hyperspace, coming to a crashing stop as the ship reversed thrust as hard as it possibly could. Nerim was tossed by the inertia, but his seatbelt kept him safely in place. Tetha, on the other hand, was tossed out of her seat and directly into him, clinging on for dear life. Arwain was shunted to the side and barely managed to grab onto anything, banging her head against the wall and grunting in pain. Fae was thrown out of her seat entirely head-over-heels, landing in a perfect cartwheel on her hand and then revolving back to her feet, sliding slightly from the momentum.

The Wellspring kept up the harsh maneuvers, and Nerim glanced out the window. There were flashes of turbolasers and glints of light as debris and other ships swarmed in circles around a large central structure floating in deep space. It was hard to make out at first, the entire station being a dark hue and shaped almost like a diamond, or two pyramids placed against one another's base.

And beneath it all, there was some deeply wrong sensation emanating from the surrounding area. It was as if everything was slightly off from where it should be, disconnected from the greater Galaxy, nonsensically arranged in a spiritually non-euclidean fashion. It felt like a wound in the Force.

"We have returned to realspace. Location: Unknown. Making contact with nearby st-st-st—rrrrrrrrrrr..." The droid slumped over. Arwain jumped up and moved to it, pulling its cranial plate off and looking at the small display inside.

"Sithspit," she cursed, "It's been sliced. The station appears to be broadcasting some sort of virus."

Nerim unbuckled himself and carefully placed Tetha back down. "Is there a battle going on out there?"

Fae's expression darkened. "There are multiple Dark Siders in conflict here. And..."

Tetha untangled herself from Nerim after a second, and moved to the front, pushing the droid out of its seat and taking the controls as it clattered to the floor. "The Jedi are the last to arrive, as always. Are we going out or in?"

Fae moved forward and placed a hand on the shoulder of Tetha's seat. "In."

She hit the thrust and the ship started moving quickly forwards, and Nerim saw the slight distortion of the deflector shields angling forward, although none of the ships appeared brave enough to provoke The Wellspring. There was an open hangar, and Tetha wasted no time heading directly into it. The ship's landing gear extended, and it skid slightly across the durasteel interior, kicking up sparks as Tetha came to an emergency landing, drifting until the nose was pointed towards the exit, ideal for a quick egress.

The entire maneuver was so quick that Nerim barely had time to see the interior, and now that the cockpit pointed outwards, it became clear that the station was surrounded by a great field of dangerous debris.

Arwain placed a hand on her lightsaber hilt, and looked to Fae. "Are you sure? This feels uncharacteristically brash of you."

Fae turned and walked out, towards the exit, back straight and hands folded behind her back. "We are not the only ones in danger, here."

Arwain sighed and turned to Tetha. "Emergency beacons?"

"Jammed," Tetha confirmed.

"Great. Keep the engine on," Arwain said, gesturing for them to follow.

Tetha turned to Nerim, a concerned expression on her face. "Are we in trouble?"

Nerim pursed his lips, quickly moving with her through the ship towards the boarding ramp. "Not yet. You'll know we're in trouble if Fae turns on her lightsaber."

Arwain shuddered at the thought. "She hasn't turned that thing on since..."

They made it to the boarding ramp as it hissed and slowly lowered. Fae Coven faced away from them towards the ramp, ready to disembark. Nerim suddenly noticed her lightsaber held firmly in her hands behind her back, a platinum-white, slightly long and elegantly thin hilt, smooth and bereft of imperfections.

He shared a glance with his Master. Arwain's concerned eyes stared back at him, with a clear warning. Be on guard.

 

[shukkets]

Things are heating up!

Thanks for the chapter.

 

[NotIntoFeet]

Alright, feet first into some shit!

 

[BC1]

Nerim suddenly noticed her lightsaber held firmly in her hands behind her back, a platinum-white, slightly long and elegantly thin hilt, smooth and bereft of imperfections.

Click to shrink...

Perfectly ominous scene, great work

 

[Hyenanon]

Spoiler: A/N

The first shoe drops...

Chapter 44: When Yousa THINKIN' Wesa In Trouble?!​

Nerim carefully moved down the boarding ramp, exiting into a cold, wide-open hangar space. In front of him was the void held back with a meager, slightly red energy shield. The rest of the hangar was nearly empty, and the entire station creaked and groaned as if the durasteel itself was in pain. He kept his hilt in his hand, scanning the surrounding environment.

Tetha reached into her jacket and gripped something. "Would now be a bad time to mention I constructed an illegal lightsaber?"

Fae barked a single, humorless laugh. "Girl, I think you've found the single best possible time to admit to that crime."

Tetha finished drawing the hilt. It was stained black, as if the entire thing had been scorched. The emitter had four protrusions along where the blade would rise and two magnetic rings held between them, forming a cage around it that he could instantly tell would make for an exceptionally strong containment field. At the bottom, the pommel was also slightly oversized, presumably for an extra large powercell. It looked remarkably...un-Jedi.

The boarding ramp retracted behind them, and they turned and began to walk deeper in. Nerim could swear he heard voices, just under the audible spectrum. At the same time, everything was...distant, as if muffled. His breath fogged as he walked cautiously, scanning the environment for threats so thoroughly that he barely registered anything of what it actually was.

There were two large doors at one side of the hangar, which Fae lead them through. It lead to a corridor, with various unlabeled doorways on one side, and a long, continuous window on the other, displaying the space outside.

Tetha curiously looked out. "Is...is that Saarkane?" She asked, pointing. Nerim followed her finger to a dim, yellow star, barely distinguishable from any of the other distant stars and nebula in his vision.

Arwain peered in its direction. "I think you may be right. I'm guessing we're in deep space, far outside of any system."

"That's a problem," Tetha frowned. "We don't have star charts for random pockets of deep space around Saarkane, do we? How do we get out?"

"Be mindful of the present," Fae cautioned, continuing to lead them forward. "I sense..."

They heard a banging noise from above them, and their heads all tilted up. The banging and crashing continued, growing closer and more violent, until a vent crumpled inwards. Three lightsabers activated, bathing the corridor in yellow, green, and red as Arwain, Nerim, and Tetha readied their blades.

A Zabrak fell to the floor between them, a pool of blood immediately beginning to form below him. He was wearing light armor, and—Nerim noticed with a start—was missing his right arm at the elbow, where the armor was heavily scorched. He appeared to have wounds all across his body, with deep bruises across his face. The armor was crushed—concave, even, around the left side of his chest.

He let loose a wet cough, and began attempting to move, not quite able. Arwain stepped slightly closer. "Do you need assistance?"

"Wha—" The Zabrak coughed again, turning towards her more in confusion than surprise. His face tight with pain and some amount of disgust. "Oh. Jedi. Yes, I suppose I could use some help."

"Who are you?" Arwain asked, inching closer cautiously and gesturing for the others to maintain a state of readiness. "What is this base?"

"Ketzar Irion," he answered, heaving himself onto his back and taking several sharp breaths. Nerim noticed with a start that his left foot was pointing backwards. "No idea. We came to see...Hghh...What it was. Why it was so steeped in darkness."

"We? Who's we?" She asked, sliding his remaining hand away from his belt with her foot.

"The...Brotherhood Of Khaol..." He laughed with a not-insignificant amount of scorn. "Some brotherhood. Savages..."

Nerim looked up to Arwain, who shrugged, and Fae, who still was still standing further down the corridor and staring straight forward, remaining vigilant. Then he turned his gaze to Tetha, who held a concerned expression. "Khaol? The moon of Nar Jireena? I've heard rumors of a secret Force Order..."

"Well, forget it," he sneered, spitting out blood with the words. "History now."

Arwain deactivated her lightsaber, and dropped to one knee, pulling a stimpack from her robes and beginning to examine his wounds. "What happened?"

"Nothin'. That's what's so shameful about it," he groaned in pain, what was left of his right arm raising and lowering uselessly. "Heard a...a voice. Said we passed some sort of...Manipulative..." He trailed off, his eyes closing for a moment as he breathed raggedly, trying not to cough anymore.

Arwain frowned. "Both of his hearts are in cardiac arrest. Sudden bacta injection would only make it worse. I'll try and—"

He suddenly reached out with his left hand, grabbing her white robe by the collar and staining it with blood. One of his eyes managed to barely crack open. A single word rattled out of him. "Sith."

Fae's head whipped around, her eyes locked on the Zabrak. "What?"

"Old...Sith..." He gurgled out, and then his hand fell from Arwain's collar. "Kill 'em...both."

One last breath exited the Zabrak's body, and Nerim felt him die, his cells winking out of existence in the Force one by one like a firework fading away.

Arwain reached down and closed his eyes, and after a moment of silence, stood up and looked at the Grand Master. "Sith Pretenders."

Fae slowly turned back around, until her face was no longer visible to them. "...Maybe," she finally said. "I sense a presence I have not felt since—"

Nerim turned his head just in time to see the flash of light outside the station, as a small ship dodged past one turbolaser, only to roll directly into a hefty piece of debris. The ship smashed against it, splattering like a bug against a windshield. A full quarter of the ship began spinning dangerously fast, towards them, closer, and closer...

He grabbed Tetha's hand and began pulling her back towards the hangar. Suddenly, he felt Fae's presence as if it had completely enveloped him, and his feet left the ground, and he found himself speeding down the hallway. There was an unbearably loud crash, the sound of shattering glass and crunching durasteel as the corridor exploded and then imploded, crushed inwards by the debris and depressurizing into open space.

He was flung through the threshold of the hallway and landed rolling on the floor, alongside Tetha and Arwain. He turned down the corridor just in time to see Ketzar's corpse jettison out of the hallway, and then the door slammed shut to lock off the depressurized section. Nerim jumped up and raised his communicator. "Grand Master?!"

There was no response. Arwain stood up, reaching out and helping Tetha back to her feet. "Communications are jammed, Apprentice. But fear not, I sense she's perfectly fine. She must have had to escape out the other end."

"Old Sith?" Tetha repeated, straightening out her jacket. "I'm guessing from the name that the Brotherhood of Khaol draws its legacy from the Brotherhood of Darkness..."

Nerim thought back to his studies. The Brotherhood of Darkness was the final sect of the Sith Order, one which rejected the title of Darth, which was inherently combative as it implied ownership of the Sith, thus provoking infighting and power struggles. The Brotherhood, on the other hand, was like a bizarre mirror of the Jedi Order's structure, made up of Acolytes, Lords, and even a Council. They managed to subvert or wipe out all other Sith, and were themselves only barely defeated by the Army of Light.

"Some sort of revivalist movement, possibly. It's happened before," Arwain huffed, looking around the hangar for another exit. She began walking. "The armor he was wearing is reminiscent of Brotherhood designs."

"But Old Sith?" Tetha began walking with her. "What's Old Sith to someone who thinks they are the Brotherhood?"

Arwain suddenly stopped, and her eyes scanned the floor aimlessly. "...You're right. Whoever is here must have learned from an old holocron. Like yours. This person must think they are Darth," she breathed out through her nose, continuing to move. "Fae is going to freak out."

"Freak out?" Nerim asked nervously. They moved through another doorway, this time directly inwards towards the center of the station. The room was remarkably large, and remarkably dark, with broken fluorescent tubes hanging from the ceiling and shattered glass across the floor. They passed through one room, and then the other, and another, traveling sideways in an attempt to meet up with the Grand Master.

Just as Nerim's eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, Tetha grabbed him and shoved him behind her. He heard two sources of electric crackling, and across the room, two crimson lightsabers ignited. They barely outlined the silhouettes of two figures, standing in the portal to another dark hallway.

"Sithspit," Arwain cursed, igniting her yellow lightsaber, which lit up the room significantly better in its golden glow. "Three is an awkward number of Dark Siders to fight."

"Keen," Nerim heard a voice behind them. Tetha and he whipped around, in time to see a third red lightsaber activate at the doorway they had come in from. "For a Jedi," the silhouette of a man clarified.

"Let's make this fair," Arwain said evenly, stepping forward towards the first duo. "I'll take on these two fools. You take on my two fools."

Nerim swallowed with a dry throat, holding his hilt firmly but not yet having activated it. The Dark Sider began to walk forward towards them. "With pleasure."

"By the way," Arwain said, "Padawan, you have permission to use all the Marks of Contact here. I won't tell anyone if you cut him in half."

"I'm not a barbarian," Nerim objected. "Her, on the other hand..."

He nodded towards Tetha, and she activated her blade, just as threateningly red as the Brotherhoods', but significantly brighter, and with a noticeable pulse in its color. He saw the vaguest outline of a grin on the man. "What an interesting pair. Shame I won't hear the story behind it."

Nerim tried his best not to turn around as he heard sudden thumping of feet and clashing of blades behind him. He took a deep breath and centered himself, ready for the fight ahead. "Well I can't promise to return the favor. I'm very curious about your story, especially the part that involves trying to kill me."

He snorted. "You're a Jedi. I am Sith. What else is there to say?"

"Depressingly accurate." Nerim felt an electric tug between himself and Tetha, and gave himself to it. They both sprinted forwards together in a sudden rush, closing the distance. Nerim activated his blade as he swung it, aiming to vertically bisect the man from top to bottom, while Tetha swung horizontally for his knees.

The fake Sith sidestepped with great speed, avoiding the vertical strike, while blocking the horizontal one. He found his blade bounce off of Tetha's with surprising force, her strengthened magnetic containment field reacting violently with his. She dropped down, and Nerim rolled over her back, ending up on the opposite side of her and rushing forward again, so that they were both in position to swing at the man without risking hitting one another.

They both swung at the same time, their blades forming an X headed straight for his chest. He swung his blade upwards with brute strength, smashing the spot where their blades met and knocking them both to opposite sides, where they conveniently were able to redirect in a pincer against him. He stepped backwards just in time to dodge, and then began circling to the right, keeping closer to Tetha than to Nerim.

Tetha unleashed a barrage of half a dozen thrusts in rapid succession, fully testing him with a Makashi onslaught. The fake Sith responded with a series of blocks and backwards scrambling, and then raised his hand towards them. Nerim felt his ears pop with the increase in pressure, and suddenly there was a whirling swarm of broken glass rushing towards them.

Tetha and Nerim both thrust out a hand each, and most of the glass stopped in mid air, rumbling with energy and crackling at the opposing forces. Some shards made it through, tangling in his robes or ripping at Tetha's new clothes (Which, he noticed, caused a flare of rage within her), but none made meaningful cuts.

Nerim took a moment to glance at how the battle was going for Arwain, as they breathed heavily and squared off with their foe. Arwain seemed to effortlessly dance between the two Dark Jedi, humming a tune to herself as she did so. He knew from sparring sessions she could go faster, but she seemed to be actively antagonizing them, attempting to draw out mistakes rather than rush into full conflict. As quickly as he looked, he had to look back, and refocus on his enemy.

The Dark Sider, for what it was worth, leveled his blade with the same focus. "You fear for others. Your connections are not a source of strength, for you. They are distractions. And I thought Jedi were immune to such things."

Nerim stared at him, unaffected. "Okay," he said flatly.

Tetha pursed her lips. "Embarrassed of letting your sword do the talking?" She taunted.

He looked at her, as if considering how best to attack. Then his eyes turned to Nerim. "How pathetic, to rely on pre-programmed affectionate behavior from a clone."

Nerim felt a sudden shattering in Tetha, smaller but similar in nature to the one he felt Fae deliver to Ayyana on Saarkane. He breathed out through his nose and stepped forward, taking the lead. "You have no idea how accidental our relationship is. It's a complete kriffin' mess, none of this is intended behavior."

"One might as well claim their droid loves them," he continued. "This is nothing akin to an equal relationship. She's an appliance."

"I'm not a droid!" Tetha shouted, her voice tight with fury and insecurity.

"But you are not a person," he retorted. "Not legally. Not morally. You are a device designed for a purpose, and even my powers cannot find what that purpose is. Everything else you do is an aimless, meandering attempt to circle to that purpose, which will lead you inevitably to an act of meek servitude and then to a junkyard. You are, functionally, a droid."

"You're gonna eat those words," Tetha growled.

"Relax," Nerim said, "This is his best attempt at begging for his life."

The fake Sith's eyes turned to Nerim. His taunts were more effective when he attacked her ego through him, and they both knew it. "Admit it. You're taking advantage of the poor thing while it's malfunctioning."

He felt her fury growing, and he spoke quickly before she could lose her temper. "This is rich talk coming from the guy who's entered a battle to the death with his Brotherhood before we even got here. You have no clue what you're doing, this wasn't part of the plan. You're aimless and without purpose, and you wish other people were like you."

He sneered. "No matter how much you crave some form of validation, it cannot change the fact that she's a clone and her feelings for you are not real!"

"They are real to me," he retorted with a calm smile, lightsaber raised and steadily glowing its yellowish-green. Tetha took a deep breath next to him, and readjusted her grip on her crimson blade.

He felt a sudden disconnect—a lack of interest, boredom even. The Dark Sider's form relaxed, and he stopped speaking to them. It was almost like he realized that his Dun Möch wasn't working, and he immediately abandoned it. Everything he had said was only a tactic, only psychic chaff he had thrown out, and once it was seen through he felt no need to continue speaking. It was disturbingly cold, calculated and, ironically he realized, droid-like.

Tetha wiped the sweat from her brow, teeth grit and eyes furiously locked on their opponent. "Nerim," she said, "You gonna do the thing?"

"Just looking for an opportunity," he confirmed.

"You got it," she said, and rushed forward. She skid to a stop in front of the fake Sith, and began unleashing another volley of jabs. Nerim deactivated his blade, waited for his lightsaber to cycle, and then rushed forward in the darkness.

The man defended himself in confusion, when Nerim rushed up, reared back, and swung his hilt as hard and as fast as he could, completely deactivated. As it passed through the axis of Tetha's position, he pressed down on the trigger, and the blade extended, suddenly finding itself between the two of them, swinging at full speed.

"Damn!" The man shouted in surprise, attempting to dodge it as best he could. He barely managed to save his torso, as the blade smoothly sliced through 90% of his right arm, and he threw himself backwards, rolling and shouting on the ground as his lightsaber clattered. The tenuous strip of skin his arm was hanging on was punctured with glass, and it sloughed off of him as he stood back up, screaming in pain.

Tetha whipped her head around to him, eyes wide. "I meant the gun thing!"

"I was GETTING to it!" Nerim said defensively, reaching for his blaster, drawing it, and firing. The shocked Dark Jedi was in no position to defend himself, and the green bolt slammed directly into his skull, causing his head to rock back and his body to fall lifeless to the ground.

The two turned back around to ascertain how Arwain's battle was going, just in time to see her dart to the side, and stab her blade directly into one of the Dark Jedi's chest, stopping his heart and killing him instantly. She then turned and held out an arm, and the room was filled with yellow flashing light as several golden bolts of electricity extended from her fingertips, colliding with the other Dark Jedi. His body locked up in response, and he grunted in pain, trying to fight through it.

Nerim took the moment of his vulnerability to raise his blaster and let loose another shot, passing through one of the man's ears and out the other. The lightning stopped, and Arwain sighed, deactivating her blade and letting the other one fall. "Good work, you two," she said between breaths.

"Was that lightning?!" Tetha asked, astounded.

"Emerald Lightning," Arwain corrected. "Yes, I know, it's yellow, not green. Very advanced technique. Only for big time Jedi Masters, like me," she said, patting herself on the chest.

Tetha grabbed Nerim by the shoulder and leaned in. "Are you sure she's a Jedi? Darth Machina told me that lightning—"

"Tetha! Priorities!" Arwain chided, beginning to move forward again.

"Frankly I wouldn't be surprised if she learned it from a Sith holocron too," Nerim muttered to her.

They walked forward until they reached another properly lit room. It was some sort of lab room, filled with tubes of various sizes, all the way up to bacta tanks. Several of them had hazy, indistinct forms of creatures inside.

"Is this...a medical bay?" Nerim asked. When no answer was forthcoming, he turned and looked at his companions.

Arwain was studying the exits, but Tetha had gone pale. She looked around the room with wide, perfectly black pupils. "This is a side lab for a cloning facility." Nerim frowned. He wasn't sure what to do, so he reached out and grabbed Tetha's hand in his. She blinked in surprise, looked down at them, and then looked back up. A weak smile graced her face. Nerim shuffled closer, and she leaned on him. "Never wanted to find myself in a place like this again."

"Can you believe it, I've never wanted to be in a Sith Temple in deep space either?" Nerim joked shakily. She giggled.

"Oh, this is just about a dream come true for me," Arwain grinned. "Minus the alive and kicking Dark Siders. Now c'mon lovebirds, let's—"

The lights went out, and then came back in a dark, emergency red. A calm robotic voice spoke over the intercom. "Warning. Critical reactor overload. Seek lifeboats. Critical reactor overload in 190 seconds."

Arwain's pupils shrank to pinpricks. "Not again."

"Master, what—"

Arwain pointed back where they had came. "Run back to the ship, right now."

"But Master—"

"RUN." She ordered with finality, more serious than he had ever seen her before. He felt that awful darkness creeping up his viscera, caught eyes with Tetha, and then turned and ran with her. They leaped over upturned furniture and ran past the corpses they had created as fast as they could, faster than any non-Force-User could have managed, lungs burning from the exertion.

Once they came to a stop in front of The Wellspring, and its boarding ramp began to lower for them, they heard the voice speak again. "Warning. Critical reactor overload in 120 seconds. Exit the station as soon as possible."

He glanced to Tetha, and let out a nervous breath. "How long do we need to get out of the blast radius?"

"Engine's still on, ship's oriented..." She thought for a moment. "Ten seconds should be plenty."

"It'll take longer than that to get to the cockpit from here. Get in the pilot seat and get ready to jet. I'll hop on at 20 seconds left," he said. She hesitated for a moment, leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and then ran up the boarding ramp.

Nerim stood guard, lightsaber at the ready, foot tapping impatiently, his back to the void and his front facing to the unnerving hangar of the station. Worry funneled through his body, eating at his veins like his heart was pumping acid. He tried to keep track of each second that ticked by, but found that for each second the computer counted, he had already worried his way through ten.

He felt almost like...something was getting away from him. Each second that passed, something precious was getting more and more distant, more impossible to recapture. There was a pressing urgency, and the scale of the situation seemed to balloon further, and further, and further, from a threat to him, to his loved ones, to the world—to his Order—to the Galaxy as a whole, until it seemed as though the most important thing in the whole shining universe was happening right here on this station, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it; he couldn't even understand it.

60 seconds remaining. Suddenly, Nerim felt a stabbing pain in his chest. His eyes burnt hot. It felt like he was watching the sun set for the last time, knowing he would never see it rise again. After a moment, he realized he had fallen to his knees, and tears were streaming down his face. A single word burned itself into his mind. Sith. Sith. To feel the light fade away and know that it will never come back, that was what Sith meant. Everything Fae Coven had fought against, the threat she was obsessed with keeping from ever falling onto his shoulders, suddenly weighed down on him and he felt he might break. And then Fae's voice was gone.

 

[Simonbob]

Suddenly, Nerim felt a stabbing pain in his chest. His eyes burnt hot. It felt like he was watching the sun set for the last time, knowing he would never see it rise again. After a moment, he realized he had fallen to his knees, and tears were streaming down his face. A single word burned itself into his mind. Sith. Sith. To feel the light fade away and know that it will never come back, that was what Sith meant. Everything Fae Coven had fought against, the threat she was obsessed with keeping from ever falling onto his shoulders, suddenly weighed down on him and he felt he might break. And then Fae's voice was gone.

Click to shrink...

Oh, dear.

Ok, it's awesome. It's also sad.








"And, that, children, is why we work for Yoda."

 

[meloa789]

I think you forgot the threadmark.

 

[shukkets]

*inhales*
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks for the chapter.

 

[Hyenanon]

I think you forgot the threadmark.

Click to shrink...

Whoops! Thank you, fixed now I think.

Oh, dear.

Ok, it's awesome. It's also sad.








"And, that, children, is why we work for Yoda."

Click to shrink...

*inhales*
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks for the chapter.

Click to shrink...

Just wait for the other shoe...

 

[Natelord28]

Feed me more!

 

[chiefnewo]

Going to kill off Arwain too?

 

[Hyenanon]

Going to kill off Arwain too?

Click to shrink...

The bluntness of this made me laugh super hard lmao

 

[Psyentific]

Going to kill off Arwain too?

Click to shrink...

Not yet, she needs to have another character arc or two. This was Arwain's "death of kenobi" scene, Nerim was just party to it.

 

[BC1]

Nooooooo

I figured this was going to happen but not so suddenly.

When you're ready to reveal what happened we better get a flashback of Fae's absolutely awesome final minutes where she tries to take both Sith down with her.

Such an awesome character deserves to go out in style

If I'm getting my timeline right this should be the time of Darth Tenebrous' Masters apprenticeship or maybe his master's apprenticeship

 

[Hyenanon]

Nooooooo

I figured this was going to happen but not so suddenly.

When you're ready to reveal what happened we better get a flashback of Fae's absolutely awesome final minutes where she tries to take both Sith down with her.

Such an awesome character deserves to go out in style

If I'm getting my timeline right this should be the time of Darth Tenebrous' Masters apprenticeship or maybe his master's apprenticeship

Click to shrink...

Not bad...Now about that other shoe I owe ya.

 

[Hyenanon]

Spoiler: A/N

This is a slight bending of the rules, as I'm paraphrasing George Lucas here. His actual quote, from the making of Phantom Menace, is "Because we'd actually never actually seen real Jedis at work. We'd only seen, y'know, old men, and crippled half-droid half-men and young boys that learned from these people." Which is a quote that goes way too hard not to use, but was a little too awkward to use as-is. I don't think he'd mind the slight misquote.

Arc 5 Interlude: We'd Only Ever Seen Old Men​

Fear. Disgusting, repulsive fear. If Darth Tenebrous was the type of being that could feel pity, it would be pitiful fear, but as it was, he could feel only disgust. This endless scorn for his Master defined their relationship, ever since that detestable Twi'lek calling himself Darth Ramage had taken him under his wing. Even now, that disgusting thing calling itself a Sith was anxious.

Darth Ramage had endlessly tried to impress spiritual lessons upon him, which struck Tenebrous as both infantile and odd, coming from a master of the material sciences so acclaimed and accomplished as Ramage—or Ootoola Toona, as he was so unfortunately named by birth and referred to in civilian life. Not that his own Master had done him any favors with a title as stupid as 'Ramage'.

And yet, day in, and day out, whenever they were near one another, Darth Ramage waxed lyrical. If Tenebrous had teeth, they would have been ground to dust listening to these inane, pathetic screeds.

Ramage pointed to the security monitor, where a laughing fool surrounded by the corpses of his once-compatriots bandied his lightsaber around in the air like it was an accomplishment. "See, Tenebrous," Ramage began, "You are about to witness an excellent lesson in fear."

If Tenebrous did not have the superior compound eyes of a Bith, he would have rolled them. One of the 'corpses', obviously just a Dark Jedi who was playing dead from early in the games, slowly and quietly arose, got behind the laughing maniac, and sliced his head off cleanly and quietly.

"It was fear that lead him to play dead. Fear that he might die stupidly, like, well, that one," the Twi'lek Sith Lord tapped on the screen, leaving behind a greasy fingerprint from his disgusting Twi'lek skin.

"Proportion of blame assigned to idiocy: 100%. Proportion of blame assigned to lack of fear: nil," Tenebrous growled. "Advanced foresight would have revealed this outcome easily, without any need for the emotion of fear. We saw it coming, after all, and we are not afraid of the little idiots."

Ramage sighed through his nose. "This is the problem with all of you little children running around with red lightsabers. Some Jedi walks up to you, and says 'The Dark Side is Fear and Anger', and you go, 'Wow! Anger! Sounds great!', and next thing you know, you've convinced yourself fear isn't part of it. Completely cut yourself off from half of the Dark. This is how people like you die."

Darth Tenebrous wondered every. Single. Day. How Darth Ramage could possibly have entered the lineage of Darth Bane. Knowing that the lessons of all Sith had to be filtered through the congenitally deficient sieve that was Darth Ramage would be enough to drive him to tears, if Bith were capable of such things.

He tried to divert the conversation. His black, reflective eyes scanned every security monitor at once. "Chance of a suitable acolyte rising from this group: 8%. Chance of all of them ending up dead in a single mutual kill event: 16%. We are mathematically twice as likely to watch them commit mass suicide as we are to get anything useful out of this."

Ramage rubbed his face. "Allowing you to take theoretical mathematics was a mistake. The lineage of the Scientist Sith is so deeply stained by a useless, pessimistic field like yours."

"I understand the fundamental building blocks of reality, you play with wooden blocks," Tenebrous bit back.

"You're gonna get a wooden block upside the head if you keep that up," Ramage grumbled, walking away towards a different control panel, "And it'll hurt a lot more than a theoretical block made of theoretical numbers."

Tenebrous, utterly bored of the Brotherhood of Khaol slaughtering itself at their command in the hopes of becoming real Sith, followed Darth Ramage over to the control panel, where he was flushing the last of the clones. "You went to the trouble of causing a Wound in the Force for this? So that we could get a bevy of recruits, whom we're not even going to teach correctly, in line with the Rule of Two?"

"Don't blame me for the Wound, it was a teensie weensie accident," Ramage rolled his eyes. "And no, you fool, we're purging them. Every now and then you need to do a little gardening. Prune the little fake Sith. Make them remember they're not real. Make the Jedi remember they're not real. That we're not real. If one of them just so happens to be apprentice material for you after I'm gone, well, that's just icing on the cake."

Darth Tenebrous tilted his oversized cranium. "For a being so focused on fear, you have accepted your death so thoroughly."

Ramage dropped his hands to the console and turned to Tenebrous. "Nome, I've spent the better half of a century with you, and you really haven't listened to a goddamn word I've said, have you? I'm not telling you to get in touch with your fear to avoid the things you fear, I'm telling you becaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Darth Ramage began screaming, his body shivering as intense terror wracked his whole form. Tenebrous watched him with mild interest. Having known him for so long, Tenebrous could use this as a prior to form a hypothesis that there was an 87% chance something terrible would happen in the next sixty secon—

Ramage grabbed Tenebrous by the head with one hand, and pointed with the other, directing his vision to an observation window. In the distance, a mint green dot appeared. Tenebrous found Force senses often asinine and unreliable, and had a personal disgust for "feelings" and the vague, non-numerical inferences that they insinuated. So when he felt the overwhelming presence of Jedi burned into his brainstem, and without direction his forebrain interpreted the data to say 'GRAND MASTER 100%', he even went so far as to hum in surprise.

Darth Ramage took a breath. "We need to set this place to self-destruct and get the hell out of here."

Darth Tenebrous grabbed Rammage's arm, preventing him from running to the self destruct button he insisted be installed in the station, and he took a moment to calculate, absorbing all of the available data both physical, theoretical, and in the Force. "...If we wait for Fae Coven to board, and then self destruct, I sense a 98% chance that we kill her."

His Master paused and considered it, closing his eyes and consulting the Force. "Hm. I think...You may be right. To kill the last great 'hero' of the New Sith Wars..."

"Vengeance will be ours," Darth Tenebrous practically growled, the zeal of the Sith flowing through him.

Darth Ramage looked at him with an inscrutable expression. "You're really feeling this good about fighting The Fae Coven?"

"I'm not afraid of her."

"You will be..." Darth Ramage mumbled, moving towards the turbolift. "You will be. 2% is too big of a risk. Come, we will destroy the evidence and get out of here."

In the intervening time, one of the Dark Jedi had managed to crawl up the turbolift shaft, and was attempting to scramble onto the deck with them. "My Lord!" He cried. "My Lord! Teach me the ways of immortality!"

Darth Ramage looked down at him, and his upper lip curled back in disdain. "If you wish to be immortal, go study under one of the Fays. That's some Jedi nonsense," he said, reaching out a hand. Lightning flowed from his fingertips, and the Dark Jedi unleashed an inhuman scream of suffering and terror, until cooking to a point where the only sounds he could make were a pathetic boiling and crackling of bones. They then boarded the turbolift and descended, cleanly bisecting the remains of the corpse as they did so.

As they were dropping, the turbolift suddenly stopped, and the lights went out.

"For the love of—Nome, you fool!" Darth Ramage shouted.

"It's. Fine." Tenebrous grumbled, reaching out with the Force and feeling the mechanics of the turbolift around him. There was a small hitch and an interruption in the power supply, easy to fix. "While we're waiting..."

"No, I really don't know the secrets to immortality, no matter how many times you ask." Ramage grumbled. "And if I did know, I would immediately lobotomize myself until I forgot. Losing the secret of immortality was the best thing that ever happened to the Sith."

"How?" Darth Tenebrous asked, utterly puzzled by his Master's persistent prejudice against life extension.

"The Grand Plan would have been complete by now if we didn't have roughly half of the Sith Lords in our lineage spending their days attempting to achieve agelessness—which was, need I remind you, always pointless, as they always died to a blade in their stomach within their naturally appointed times. Every day I thank the Force that Darth Gravid destroyed our old texts."

"I don't get it," Tenebrous repeated, as the elevator's lights came back on. "I just don't get how you're so consumed with that contemptible fear all the time, and you have no interest in avoiding the death you foresee." After all, Darth Tenebrous planned on living forever. 100% chance.

"That's what I keep trying to tell you, Tenebrous!" He said, emphatically shaking his fists. "You are going to be afraid, it is core to the Dark Side of the Force. You need to learn how to exist within fear without being consumed by it, or you will always pull back from the Dark before tapping into its deepest powers. I am afraid to die, but if I let that make me pull back, the Sith will falter and I will have failed in my most sacred duty as a Sith Lord."

The elevator began to move again, and Tenebrous immediately flushed his Master's stupid words out of his mind. They exited into a large cloning chamber, now empty of the fetuses and malformed beings they had been growing. The chamber was circular and evenly spaced with large tanks of amniotic fluid where once clones floated, and opposite of their turbolift were a frankly oversized set of sliding double doors that would lead to the main reactor bay, and from there towards the rest of the station. It was the largest of the nine cloning chambers on this station.

"Ah. At least we can bond over biology," Darth Ramage said, relieved.

Tenebrous gruffly nodded. He preferred math, astrophysics, and engineering, but cellular biology was a close fourth favorite of his. They both walked forwards, their leather boots echoing each step through the hall as—

"Warning. Critical reactor overload. Seek lifeboats. Critical reactor overload in 190 seconds."

The ship's computer spoke to them, and both Tenebrous and Ramage froze. They looked to each other, as if to ask if the other had some sort of contingency plan they just activated. And then it happened.

The doors slid open. Haloed by the light of the reactor core, Fae Coven stood in front of them, back straight and hands clasped behind her back. She had the most serene smile he had ever seen, her shoulders were relaxed, her eyes were closed, and her lungs easily filled and emptied the sterile air. She looked almost as if a great weight had just been lifted off of her.

Darth Ramage froze in place, and Darth Tenebrous could feel his pathetic organs writhing and his feeble glands pump out chemicals designed to make animals defecate and run away. He very nearly threw up—his Master nearly did, that is, Bith had evolved past such pathetic biology.

"F-faster than I expected for a woman of your age," Darth Ramage stuttered out, shakily retrieving his lightsaber and activating the blood red blade. "This is the end of you, then."

Fae chuckled. "My Master once told me she foresaw I would die by rushing foolhardily into conflict with the Sith. She told me that eight hundred and forty-eight years, ten months, and fourteen days ago. We thought she was talking about the Brotherhood of Darkness. She was so distraught over it, she swore never to teach another student. Something of an overreaction, in hindsight. I've had a good run."

Darth Tenebrous followed suit, activating his own, slightly paler red blade. "78% chance of our victory in a duel," he calculated. He neglected to say, of the other 22%, he foresaw Ramage would die while he would abscond away safely.

"Stop it with the odds," Ramage grumbled, "We don't have much of a choice."

Fae Coven's eyes opened, and she raised her hands, revealing the lightsaber snugly in her palm, and then held it in both hands over her head. It crackled to life, and that was the moment Tenebrous knew the legends were true.

Her blade ignited, and it was red. Not crimson. Not blood red. Not Sith red. It was Republic Red, and it shone in the white light she was bathed in in a victorious, audacious statement. The only naturally red crystal he had ever heard of, and in the hands of the Queen of the Republic, the Jedi Imperatrix who outlived the Sith and sat in the seat of an Empress in Coruscant from which she owned everything the light touched, her red blade shouted at him, and it said Hear me now, Sith roach, and scurry back to the shadows and hide: For even this does not belong to you.

And in a flash of light unlike anything he had ever seen, Fae rushed towards them.

The Grand Master suddenly appeared in front of him, and Darth Tenebrous did his best to exit his body, puppeting it through the Force like a toy. He threw it backwards out of her range, and then back in, swinging wildly as his Master attacked from the opposite end. Fae easily deflected his slashes, and in her presence he felt his dissociation falter, his self slip back into his body.

Darth Ramage swung at her back, and she rose her blade in a hanging guard, clashing with him over her shoulder while she turned and landed in a solid stance, thrusting her hand out at Tenebrous. He saw a blast of light bloom from her palm, and he felt searing heat as if he had just stepped into a desert, blinded as if he had just stared into the sun for hours. His body was thrown back like a cardboard cutout in a tornado, and he smashed into a tube of amniotic fluid, which mercifully retained its shape as the reinforced glass bounced his body off and to the floor with a dull, pathetic clung.

By the time Tenebrous had regained his senses, he looked up to see Fae charging and slashing like a madwoman at his Master. Darth Ramage was an infuriatingly slippery fighter, and dodged out of the way of slashes and kicks, until he was backed against a wall. Their lightsabers clashed, and Fae let loose a kick, which he managed to roll away from. Her foot smashed against the durasteel wall, crashing straight through it and causing the metal to buckle in a radius around her foot that lead from floor to ceiling.

The entire station groaned. She gracefully retrieved her foot, and then readied herself for another charge. Tenebrous had never seen, and knew he never would see, a more masterful use of Juyo. It became clear to him why the infamously conservative Fae Coven inexplicably unbanned the contentious lightsaber Form when she became Grand Master, after it was briefly banned during the wars. She spun and gnashed, and between the white glow of her hair and the sterile walls around her, and the line of red that she traced towards the Sith, it was almost as if a Republic battlecruiser in its entirety was charging them while they stood naked on the savanna.

"Tenebrous!" His Master shouted, hopping back towards him. The Twi'lek deactivated his blade and shoved out both of his arms, releasing a monumental blast of lightning, charged with all the fear and anger the Sith Lord could muster—and he could muster quite a lot of fear right now.

Fae raised one hand, and the lightning all warped and smashed into her palm as if it were a lightning rod, roiling and boiling in a distorted sphere. Tenebrous, on the other hand, had only hatred. He channeled the pain of his wounds and thrust out both of his arms also, unleashing a similar, albeit slightly smaller storm of lightning.

Fae raised her other hand, and blocked it too. They tested against one another, until the Sith realized they very well might lose the battle of wills. As their confidence dried up, their lightning began to falter, and so they cut their losses and both stopped the flow. Now, in Fae's arms, was a bundle of everything they had released. She rose up, and then dropped it, unleashing a torrential stormfront into the floor of the station.

Darth Ramage and Darth Tenebrous had already planned for friendly fire incidents, and so their well-insulated boots protected them from shock as the thunder rippled through the station. However, it did not protect their eyes. The lights in the room, supercharged by the electricity, burned brighter and brighter until they threatened to permanently blind the lidless Bith. Tenebrous was reduced to covering his eyes with his hands.

Now thoroughly sightless, he could hear Fae Coven laughing. "I feel like a little girl again!" She exclaimed with glee. And then he heard her lightsaber ignite once more.

He tapped into his natural Bith senses, audibly tracking her blade, each movement hitting his ears with minute differences and the geometry of her swings calculated in nanoseconds. He swayed and dodged out of the way, avoiding slash after slash, until she had to switch her attention to Darth Ramage. She dodged under a cloning tube he had thrown with the Force, and performed a rolling slash, catching him offguard.

In the time it took Tenebrous to activate his own blade and begin running forwards, they had clashed six times. Then, Fae reared back, and swung with a truly inhuman might. Her blade clashed against Ramage's, and he saw Ramage's blade crack, and then he saw it shatter entirely. Free plasma jetted around the crumbling magnetic field as his blade was broken, and Fae's Republic red lightsaber cut straight through his blood red blade and down, slicing off his right arm at the shoulder. Ramage screamed in pain, and as he dropped back, she swung again at his center mass. He jumped to avoid the worst, resulting in her cutting off his legs at the knee instead.

Darth Tenebrous took his opportunity. He summoned up all the power he had been hiding until this exact predicted moment, and shot forward like a blaster bolt. His blade found purchase in Fae's back, through her heart, and it was as if time itself froze. And then, for the first time in his life, Darth Tenebrous laughed. He did it. Darth Tenebrous killed The Fae Coven. And now he had no need for his Master, either.

He took his free arm and reached over her shoulder with his fingers splayed, and Ramage raised his remaining arm pitifully. "Wait! We have not completed your trai—AAAAARGH!"

Lightning shot from Tenebrous' fingers and scorched Ramage's body, as if all the fury of a tempest scoured each of his cells individually, and he died ten thousand times in that moment, each and every cell popping one by one like a delicious dessert. Then, suddenly, the numbers didn't add up.

"Gotcha," Fae exhaled.

She, without hesitation or fear and utterly free of regret, swung her blade directly through herself. If Tenebrous was anything less than a once-in-a-millennia genius, it would have sliced through her torso and into his heart. Even still, as he reared back as fast as the Dark Side of the Force would allow, the blade cut through her body and straight through the arm he used to kill Ramage, amputating it halfway through the bicep. The arm he used to stab her was only little better, as her blade slashed through his hand, thoroughly melting his thumb and forefinger.

Tenebrous fell to the ground and screamed in pain. But not in anguish. Not in fear. Because he was Darth Tenebrous, and he would live forever, 100% chance?

He sat up, and he looked over his knees and to the charred corpse of his Master on one side, and Fae Coven's smiling corpse on the other. 60 seconds, the station AI said. He barely registered the noise though, nor his need to arise and access the conveniently placed escape pod thirty feet to his left he had planned for ahead of time. He could hardly think at all, because of what just occurred in his brain.

He looked again at Fae's smiling corpse, in between his mangled limbs. I will live forever. 93% chance.

His screams took on an entirely different, alien tone. For the first time in his life, Darth Tenebrous felt fear. And he wished his Master were alive to teach him what to do about it.


______________________

Spoiler: A/N

Also, for my fellow timeline speculators: We never got exact dates on anything in canon, and it's never even clear if Tenebrous' Master is Ramage or not. I think the best guess is that Tenebrous killed his Master sometime around 160~ish, but that's going off of what could very well be figures of speech, like Plagueis musing about his Master's actions from "a century ago" and also the deliciously dubious Tenebrous Way short story. To be fair, I've been pretty vague too, saying my story is around 200~ish. It's a bit of a fudge, but I'm willing to make it.

 

[Simonbob]

The line of Bane.

Those fuckwits?


Ugh.

 

[CFLAddLoader]

Got to say I agree with Tenebrous here. Even hypothetically destroying records on immortality is Not Okay. Unless its a trap meant to destroy you, but even then quarantining the information is better than destroying it.