Through a Blackened Mirror
Chapter 5: The Prince
Word Count: 7589 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents
* * *
“Now the hundred years had just ended, and the day on which Brier Rose was to wake up again had arrived. When the prince approached the brier hedge, he found nothing but beautiful flowers that opened of their own accord, let him through, and then closed again like a hedge. In the castle courtyard he saw the horses and the spotted hunting dogs lying asleep. The pigeons were perched on the roof and had tucked their heads beneath their wings. When he entered the palace, the flies were sleeping on the wall, the cook in the kitchen was still holding his hand as if he wanted to grab the kitchen boy, and the maid was sitting in front of the black chicken that she was about to pluck. As the prince continued walking, he saw the entire court lying asleep in the hall with the king and queen by the throne. Then he moved on, and everything was so quiet that he could hear himself breathe.”
-- “Brier Rose,” translated by Jack Snipes
* * *
Obi-Wan hurries into the library. “Master Nu!” He bows deeply.
“Ah, young Kenobi.” Jocasta turns from reshelving a holocron about Serenno. She knows who checked it out, and it makes her feel nervous; reading about it only makes him sadder. She nods at the frantic Padawan. “How can I h–”
Obi-Wan gesticulates wildly as he launches into his request. “Yesterday morning my Master Qui-Gon told me he sensed a most curious disturbance in the Force, as though a great power had fallen into the grasp of the Dark Side. He requested me to meditate on this and I did. And I just woke from a dream that I think was important! But I need your help to identity the face that appeared to me!”
“Peace, peace. Have you told your Master yet?”
“No! He’s still asleep! And I wanted to make sure I wasn’t on some wild bantha-chase before I bothered him. I am so glad that the library is open!”
“Yes, we are always open by 5 am.”
“Amazing!” The young man elegantly clears his throat.
“Master Nu, what sort of alien has brown scales, black hair, and red eyes?”
“Take a seat, my lad; let me open a program to help us.” She wakes up a screen on one of the tables. Fortunately, no one else is at the library this early, so she can give Obi-Wan her full attention. “Could it have been a Northern Trandoshan?” She shows a picture of the mild-mannered Senator of Trandosha.
“No, it didn’t have a snout.”
“A Weequay?” She shows a picture of a somewhat-famous pirate.
Obi-Wan is disgusted. “No. The face I saw didn’t look like a skull. It even had something akin to beauty.”
“Perhaps a Vodran?” She shows a HoloNet hero.
“No, it didn’t have any horns.”
“A Bothan?” She shows a very boring chartered accountant.
“No, its hair was like this.” He draws a vampiric hairline across his face.
“Hm.” She taps her fingers on the table.
Obi-Wan bounces his knee up and down ferociously.
“A Grinanin.” She shows a picture of an underwear model; the picture is cropped to just her face, though.
Obi-Wan almost falls off his chair. “That’s it!!”
Jocasta thinks, Of course it is. Boys and Grinanins. Is this really the type of dream I want to know about?
“Very good, Kenobi. The only trouble is that Grinanins have blue, purple, or pink eyes.”
Obi-Wan strokes his chin. “Not if they’re Sith.”
“Sith?” Jocasta purses her lips. “But the Sith have been gone for a thousand years.”
“Yes... But…” He looks up at the shelves. The morning light is just beginning to pour through the windows. “Their holos remain. Master Nu, where was the Sith library?”
“Kenobi, this is hardly appropriate. The Sith library was a place of great evil.”
“I know,” he says solemnly, “And I do not ask lightly, trust me. But Master Qui-Gon needs my help, and I think I am on the right path.”
Jocasta sighs and speaks softly, even though no one is nearby. Obi-Wan leans in conspiratorially.
“The Sith library -- which may or may not have been completely destroyed long ago -- was on the planet Huntt’awn in the distant Sinmeerin sector, the coldest and furthest reaches of the Outer Rim. It is far beyond the long arm of the Republic. If you want to go there, you must have a very, very good reason.”
Obi-Wan nods. His voice is, impossibly, even more solemn than it was before.
“Where is the Sith section of our library?”
“It is the one closest to the window. After all, it is the darkness that most requires the light.”
Obi-Wan nods again.
“I shall be right back.”
He stands up and she grabs the hood of his robe.
“Wait one minute, young man. That section is off-limits to Padawans. You may go under supervision of your Master.”
Obi-Wan tugs his robe from her hand and scowls.
“But Master, I’m not a child. I am twenty years old.”
“Age has nothing to do with it. The temptations of the Dark Side are too great for anyone who has not undergone the trials.”
“I am pure of heart. I swear!”
“The decision is not mine, Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan thinks, It most certainly is!
He looks up at the ceiling, barely containing his irritation, then looks down at her with an expression that he clearly believes is a smile. “Yes, Master Nu!” He bows quickly. “I shall be right back!”
He dashes off, his robes flying behind him.
* * *
Obi-Wan knocks on Qui-Gon’s door, but he cannot wait and opens it. He calls, in a loud whisper, “Master!”
“Hnngh?”
The boy’s presence in the Force wakes Qui-Gon up more than the noise does. He looks at him blearily.
“Um -- sorry Master! But this is urgent!” He enters the dark room and shuts the door behind him. “I had a vision in my dream. I think I know something about the great power which you sensed yesterday.”
Qui-Gon sits up. Obi-Wan feels such affection for the great, barrel-chested knight. He also feels guilty for disturbing him, but Qui-Gon shows no sign of irritation, and Obi-Wan does not expect it from him. Very few people have ever been angry at Obi-Wan.
“Yes?”
Obi-Wan thinks, I will never be as great as he is.
“I saw the face of a Grinanin woman with red eyes. She fizzled out from reality into a holo. I believe this was more than a dream. I think it was a message from the Force, a result of my meditations on the subject.”
“What do you think it means, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon stands up from the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and he turns the light on.
“Grinanins do not have red eyes, but Sith do. She might be a great Sith from the past who left a message on a holocron.”
Qui-Gon goes to the sink to brush his teeth. Obi-Wan follows him.
“A very wise interpretation, my Padawan! Excuse me.”
He shuts the bathroom door in his student’s face.
Obi-Wan is a little embarrassed, but he is too proud and eager to be that embarrassed. He continues speaking to the bathroom door. “Anyway, I thought I might look through the Sith section of the library to see if I can find more information on her. I am not sure how a holocron could be a source of power. It must contain some very important information!”
“Perhaps…”
“Maybe she was a spy. Maybe she figured out some way to--to detect Force-sensitive children, even younger than we can -- or to discover a Jedi’s weakness -- or to invade the Temple! But she died before she could enact her plan. But now it has fallen into the hands of some rapscallion!”
“Mm-hm.”
“The trouble is, I can’t get into the Sith section of the library, since I am only a Padawan. So that’s why I came–”
“Grinanin, you said?”
“Yes, Master!”
Obi-Wan hears the toilet flush, and Qui-Gon opens the door.
“Darth Zaster.”
“What’s a disaster, Master?”
Obi-Wan is quietly amused by the rhyme. Qui-Gon washes his hands in the sink.
“No, Darth Zaster. ‘Darth’ is a Sith title. And ‘Zaster’ is her name. She was a Grinanin Oracle from two millenia ago -- one of the greatest Oracles who ever lived. She made two hundred and nine prophecies, and two hundred and five of them have come true. Not a single one was false.”
“Oh!”
“Almost all of them foretold some terrible tragedy.”
“Oh.” Obi-Wan picks up a shiny object on Qui-Gon’s desk. It snaps around his finger. “Oh -- um –”
“Legend states that when she died, her master sealed the midichlorians of her spirit away in a holocron.”
Obi-Wan gasps. “Just like my vision!”
“Exactly.”
“But if her midichlorians are in a holo -- could they be accessed? Could she be … awoken from the dead?!”
Qui-Gon takes a pause that drives Obi-Wan mad. “That was her master’s intention. However, only a Sith can open a Sith holocron. Just as only a Jedi can open a Jedi holocron.”
“And there are no Sith!”
“Yes. So there is some comfort there. If an agent of the Dark Side has gotten ahold of this spirit of a long-dead Sith, they would still have a very difficult time awakening her.”
“Difficult? Or impossible?”
“Difficult. Not impossible.”
“Really?!”
“Think of your training, Obi-Wan. Have non-Jedi ever been able to open Jedi holocrons?”
Obi-Wan thinks carefully. “Yes. But very rarely.”
Qui-Gon taps his nose. “Thus, for the Sith. Remember, the Jedi are stronger than the Sith. Whatever weaknesses we have -- rare as they are -- the Sith have them too, and more.”
Obi-Wan chuckles. “I never thought I’d find myself wishing the Sith were better at something, even holo security.”
Qui-Gon puts a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder. “You did very well, Obi-Wan. I am proud of you. Your meditation brought us a vision that brings us closer to the truth.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Let us go to the Sith section of the library and see what more we can find on Zaster.”
He starts to head out the door.
“Uh -- Master -- a little help?”
Obi-Wan holds out his finger where the trap is still attached.
With a hearty chuckle, Qui-Gon frees his Padawan’s finger with a wave of his hand. “Don’t be so nosy, Obi-Wan.”
“Yes, Master.”
* * *
Following their research in the Jedi library, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon decide to risk visiting the Sith library on Huntt’awn. All clues indicate that if Zaster’s holo was kept anywhere, it was there. Perhaps they can find a hint as to where the Dark Side agent has taken her. Qui-Gon flies the ship and Obi-Wan sits in the co-pilot’s chair.
Obi-Wan says, “I read some of those prophecies of hers. Very disturbing…”
“Yes. Zaster is an object of fascination among us prophecy-heads. I am glad that you were the one who beheld her in a vision. If I saw her out of the blue, I might have become entirely too diverted.”
Obi-Wan has a hard time imagining Qui-Gon getting excited about anything.
“What is the worst thing she ever predicted?”
“She prophesized the rise of the Zygerrian slave empire. And unlike her more specific prophecies, there was very little the Jedi could do about it. There were just too many complex, inevitable agencies at work. So the slaver’s empire existed for hundreds of years, before we finally stamped it out. Not very long ago, I might add.”
Obi-Wan mumbles “hmm” sadly. He feels glad to not exist at the same time as slavery. He wonders if he would have been able to do something to stop it if he had been there; even “complex, inevitable agencies” can be tamed if one is wise enough.
“What is a prophecy that we were able to stop?” Obi-Wan asks.
“Oh, you cannot stop what has been prophesized from occurring. But sometimes you can do something about it. She foresaw the environmental collapse of Rooshan, which happened just three hundred years ago. The signs which she alluded to lined up in the nick of time, and marked Rooshan as the subject of her prophecy. On her word, the Jedi were able to convince the Rooshanians to give up their doomed efforts of salvaging their atmosphere and to evacuate their homeworld instead. Rooshan is a wasteland now, but the Rooshanians live on, albeit in diaspora.”
“That is a tragedy.”
“Chin up, Obi-Wan. Four billion lives were saved.”
“Are you completely sure that there was nothing that could have been done about Rooshan’s atmosphere?”
“Only a Sith deals in absolutes. I am never completely sure of anything. Perhaps there was some hope for their atmosphere after all. But the Jedi of the time decided that hope was not enough.”
“Did she have any connection to Rooshan? How could she have possibly known about it, especially since it happened over a thousand years after her death?”
“It’s true that Oracles speak more frequently and accurately about familiar things. But the Force connects all things, Padawan, across all time. The Force was very strong with her.”
“You say that not a single one of her prophecies was ever false?”
“Not a one. But there are four left.” He smiles at him. “It is never too late to fail.”
“What are her four remaining prophecies?”
“Oh, just as miserable as the rest of them. Let’s see... ‘A moon is not a moon. There are a thousand non-believers and one believer. The non-believers will perish, and only the believer will survive.’ That’s the first one.”
“Believe in what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sorry, Master.”
“It’s alright. The second one is, ‘He will be the liar’s only hope. He will run from his post. He will not be believed. The truthseeker will break him. He will outlive his home. The other five will die together, but he will die alone.’”
Obi-Wan nods. He regrets asking -- besides how miserable it is, he has no taste for anything so cryptic, even though this stuff is his master’s hobby.
“Mmhm. The third one is, ‘The fake woman descends a ramp. She dies in the first war. The arrogant man does not trip the beast. He dies in the second war. The fainting woman drops a hundred bombs. She dies in the third war. Heed their deaths: do not love anyone who is brave during a war.’”
Obi-Wan rests his gloomy chin on his hand.
“This Zaster was a real piece of work.”
“Oh yes. And the final one is, ‘These sons of bitches are obsessed with light. They make every fucking holiday about it. They put it in their fucking clothes. I can’t fucking stand them.’”
Obi-Wan stares at his serene master in shock.
“‘These unnatural materialists fill their lovely dark with ugly light, and -- lucky for you, my friend -- that wasted effort drains a lot of power. So greedy are they for their electricity, they will build a great power generator within their own palace. So voraciously do they crave that energy, they will dig their great reactor shafts deep, deep into the earth, to a place where no one goes, a place that is dark and safe. There you will find dusty, abandoned spider-droids which were given up for dead. They shall not be dead. They shall bend to your will. You shall not be dead either, my friend. Not yet. It shall not be the end for you, not on that light-obsessed hell-planet. It shall be only the beginning. You will live, my friend, you will live.’”
“That’s her final prophecy?”
“It certainly has a different tone, doesn’t it? Those are the ravings she screamed as she lay dying.”
“And you had that all off the top of your head?”
“Yes, I did. All her other prophecies have come true. It is logical to listen to them.”
“But that prophecy is clearly lunacy.”
“Perhaps...or perhaps, one day, I will find myself on the bottom of a reactor shaft in a power generator within a palace. And if so, I will know to look for the spider-droids.”
Obi-Wan shakes his head.
“This is such nonsense.”
“We can only hope so. If Zaster is only capable of nonsense, then -- even if the most wicked person in the universe gets ahold of her -- she will be useless to them.”
Obi-Wan nods at this wisdom, and then an odd thought occurs to him.
“Such disdain for light is particularly illogical coming from a Grinanin. Grinanins are cold-blooded. Without sunlight, they have no energy of their own.”
“Very good, Obi-Wan. When we get back to the Temple, read up on the Apollonian Secession. One of the cleverer Sith tricks was their cosmic blankets, which would darken the suns over planets and render cold-blooded populations lethargic and compliant. Once Jedi agents pierced these blankets, billions of people awoke in mighty unison to their true selves. The Grinanins were, in fact, one of the first people to rebel against their Sith overlords. If Zaster had lived only a few more decades, we would have had her for ourselves. Think of the happy prophecies she might have made, if only we could have rescued her from evil. Think of how much greater we would be now.”
Obi-Wan does not precisely obey these directions. He thinks about the intricacies of biology, astronomy, and history that his master described. His stomach churns at the idea of intentionally darkening suns, and his heart thrills with pride for the Light Side’s ancient triumph. He tries but fails to long entertain his master’s happier alternate universe. Obi-Wan knows the past is set in stone, and it is pointless to fuss about it.
* * *
That feeling again, that blundering clumsiness, oh Maul… She waits it out, then she sees him sitting there. Her boy.
“Hey,” he says, exhausted as always.
“Hey.”
“You have a ... new outfit,” he says weakly.
“Oh yes. I do. Must be a, uh, seasonal update in the programming.”
“Huh... I liked your old one better, to be frank.”
She breathes out of her nose in amusement. Of course he would insult her before -- apologizing, or whatever. Palpatine would just flatter, Maul does not --
She looks away from the handsome halfbreed to the thing between them. It’s a long, low freezerbox. The text of the brand logo is in spiky Grinanin.
They are outdoors, in the night. The world is brighter and greener than Iridonia, and ought to be even more familiar to her: she was born here, after all. But they are surrounded by strange, quietly humming metallic structures. She sees a great wheel in the distance, 200 feet tall, and what looks like painted steeds impaled on golden poles. One thing at a time, she thinks, a bit dizzy.
“So what is this?” She points at the freezer.
“Okay, so -- I put your stone-body in the Iridonian Temple -- just in case you ever change your mind -- then I convinced my master to take us to your homeworld, so I could find a more -- relevant body for you. It’s been three months. I didn’t want to wake you until I found the best one I could. Here she is.”
He opens the freezer. On a bed of shredded ice lies a corpse -- another eighteen year old Grinanin, and very pretty -- wearing a finely-made, tan-colored Sith student’s robe, a size or two too big. She has a little button nose, big eyes, dollish lips, and brown scales of almost the same color as her own, if a little rounder in shape. In some ways, she is prettier than Dreela. Certainly she is sweeter. Dreela rolls down the corpse’s sleeve and sees a tattoo of a snake around her wrist.
“You gave her my tattoo.”
“You’re not you without it. I painted it on the first body, too, if you had bothered to notice.”
“You also gave that one horns and teeny boobs.”
She prods the corpse’s boobs. Acceptable.
“Look, I was young and foolish,” he responds. “Anyway, horns are fun; you can gore people with them. And store cheese on them to eat for later.”
Dreela laughs. It sounds so sad to Maul. Her state of being must be getting so hard for her. He doesn’t blame her at all for being so bitter and tragic. But this will make things different.
Dreela lifts the corpse’s eyelids and sees her irises are light purple.
“I’m sure they’ll turn red once you, a Sith, occupy them,” Maul assures her.
“Is this on Sidious’ advice? Or was this your own idea?”
“I asked him how to recreate a dead body, how to create a body from air, you know, all this stuff. He didn’t have anything useful to say. This is all my own idea.”
“And how will you get me in her?”
“Same as before. The Nightsister stuff.”
Dreela sighs.
“It works on corpses too. Your presence would even make her blood flow again. Do you want to see?”
“No. As little of that as possible, please.”
Maul shuts the freezer and takes her hand with the Force.
“This is the only way, girl.”
Dreela flinches at his touch.
“What is it? Why do you shudder? Do you really hate me now?”
Dreela thinks, Principles are for Jedi. He is good to me. He is still my friend.
“No, I don’t hate you, it’s just…”
Maul smirks. “Has the gay rubbed off? You can’t stand the touch of men now? Homophobic science has been onto something this whole time?”
Dreela shakes her head and holds his hand tighter. “No... I wouldn’t know what to do with a girl.”
“On that, we are alike.”
Dreela feels a sob rise from her chest. Her tears fizzle on the holo. They hurt like little needles. She forgot water did that to her in this inferior form.
“I beg you, Dreela, baby, darling, sugar to my tea, kyber to my saber, darkness to my night, please, just try it, just one hour. I can put you back if you don’t like it.”
Dreela looks at him through that horrible blue haze. She wants to see his redness, so badly. And that body really did look very good. It would be fun to wear Maul’s clothes too; she always wanted to.
“What would we do for an hour? I love you, but the sex is bad. Did you make a lightsaber for me? We could always spar. I miss sparring.”
“No, I haven’t made a lightsaber for you. I have something better.” He lets go of her hand and flips backwards onto his feet. He grabs a big red switch on a pole and throws it down. With a loud whir, the amusement park all around them comes to life -- the Ferris wheel and carousel turn, strings of warm electric lights burn brightly, rollercoasters as white as bone are illuminated against the stars.
“Wh-what is this?!!”
“You didn’t have amusement parks in the Year of Our Fate 7548?”
“No?”
“It’s fun! Uh -- basically, these machines throw you around and get you scared.”
“OoOOoh! So non-Sith have fun getting scared too?”
“Nowadays -- yeah.”
She looks her poor friend in the eyes.
“Yes.”
“Yes -- you’ll do it?”
“You’ll do it, babe, I’ll just lie there.”
“You won’t regret it.”
He sets them up for the ritual. She sees, but does not feel, his hand on her forehead; she hears him muttering those chilling words, the green smoke pouring from his eyes and ears and mouth, swirling up into the already greenish atmosphere of Grinanin.
The feeling of this magic is different from the feeling of waking up from her holo, whether by Maul’s clumsy effort or Sidious’ skill.
While using the Force as a Sith connects one to everything around you, opens you up to the vastness of space, this magic feels like curling up into someone’s lap -- Maul’s bony, muscular lap -- the particularities of his familiar scent -- they have so much in common, their faith, their vanity, their sense of humor, and, most of all, their affection for one another.
She opens her eyes.
“I’M COLD!!! AAUUUGGHHH!!!”
She flails around in the ice. Maul lifts her out and spins on his heels with her in his arms.
“It’s COLD and I’m all WET! YOU BASTARD, I’M COLD-BLOODED!!!”
Maul carries her over to some pristinely-maintained shrubbery and sets it alight with his saber. He puts her on her feet and she wobbles over to the fires, arm around his waist.
“How does it feel, beside how co--”
She responds in a demonic shriek: “IT’S FUCKING COLD, MY LORD DARTH MAUL, PRINCE OF EVIL.”
He shuts up. They stand still for many tense, quavering minutes. She gazes at the fire in a stupor, blinking slowly, beholding her beautiful friend in only her peripheral vision. Once she feels a little energy return to her brain, she turns to look at him, straight on, for the first time. Of course he is already staring at her. The love in his eyes is ferocious. She reaches out and touches his flushed, hardened face. Finally she speaks, in a soft, kind voice.
“It feels good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. A little tall, and a little weak of the muscle. But good.”
“I’m afraid I couldn’t find someone with a Sith level of physical training who was also beautiful.”
“I can fix the weakness. I like working out.”
“Give me a hug,” he says. She hugs him, then again, tighter, holding the back of his head. He buries his face in her neck and she feels his breath flutter between her scales.
This is my first hug ever, he thinks. I see why people go to war for this kind of thing. “Did I deliver?” he mumbles into her neck.
She feels like she could cry, and she encourages the feeling -- that deep sensation of all her body parts working together to make tears, her chest and tummy and face and throat. It is more than Sidious could provide. Her tears are hot.
“Yes.”
Maul holds her face. “Your eyes are red as blood. Lord Darth Zaster, princess of the Sith.”
Dreela smiles with pure happiness. “Wonderful. But don’t I look strange to you?”
Maul shakes his head. “I can tell it’s you. You move your muscles in the same way. We are not our crude bodies. We are the dark secret within them.”
“Thank you, Maul.” She holds him again and presses her face to his chest. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Dreela.” He laughs, light-headed and nervous. “I’m so glad I won’t have to bleed like a pig just to see you.”
“Me too. Where -- where is my holo?”
“Here.” He picks it up off the floor and gives it to her. It has turned off, even the glow of its letters. She puts it in her sleeve pocket. It fits well.
“Now that I’m out, I don’t want to go back in.”
“Good.”
“But where will I stay?”
“I furnished a cave for you in the woods. It’s not much, I must admit, but it’s all yours. Do you want to see it?”
Dreela shakes her head. “Later, later. I’m sure it’s fine. Now, you must scare me on these machines.”
“Yes, sister.”
He sets her up on the carousel and fastens the belt around her waist. He starts the machine, runs back to her, and holds her firmly as she shrieks with surprise. Layers of mysterious voices occasionally pile up on top of hers at her most uncontrolled moments, but only to scream and laugh. Maul takes her on every kiddie coaster and relaxing tunnel, stopping between each ride to warm her at another fire, until hardly any of the park’s landscaping remains.
* * *
Zaster wakes up -- all on her own -- not from her holo prison -- but from deep sleep. Sleep is unnatural to Sith, but this body has not been trained to fall into their holy meditative state, so she’ll just have to tolerate sleep until she can retrain herself, it shouldn’t be that hard -- or maybe... maybe she’ll keep sleep -- she hasn’t slept in two years -- well, two thousand-two years -- she put it away with her childhood -- but now that she’s done it again -- it felt really good, to lose control so completely, to be so relaxed and far away -- why not sleep? Her master is gone, no one is holding her accountable, she doesn’t have to do anything for anyone -- she stretches out -- she’s in a hammock between two stalagmites, wrapped in a soft fleece blanket -- how did she get here? Oh, she remembers, she was so tired from the rides, Maul carried her here and tucked her in, and then he left... She turns her head, she feels her bones creak -- what an awful feeling, but surely it will go away, it’s probably a consequence of sleep -- she sees sunlight passing through the vines which obscure the entrance to the cave -- she feels her stomach rumble -- she looks around the cave, she is only in the entrance area, there are a couple tunnels behind her -- in front of her, Maul put a red shag circular rug, on which he stacked a lot of food he stole from the amusement park -- she pigged out last night, her first food since death, but the candy and popcorn do not look that appealing to her right now -- she sees he dragged the freezerbox here, it is plugged into a rechargeable battery which is at 73% -- she rolls out of bed and opens it, he killed a grin-deer and put it in there for her to eat -- good job hunting, bitch, but she’s not going to eat this raw, and she doesn’t know how to cook it -- she has a sudden creeping fear that she’s in way over her head, and so is her young caretaker -- if she had a lightsaber, she could skin it and cut it with that, and cook it and make a fire -- he should have left his lightsaber! If he really loved her, he would’ve -- ugh, whatever -- she sees he’s also put a mirror in here -- she squints in the dimness and sees that stranger’s face in it, and feels an intense nervousness and sadness that she really, really hoped wouldn’t happen -- regret -- when he comes back, she’ll ask him to put her back, she can’t do this -- no, she can, she will, this is a better life -- her stomach rumbles again, she grumpily eats some of the popcorn -- what a miserable state!
So, what else is here -- a nice wooden chest, full of clothes -- well, they’re alright, they must be the modern Grinanin fashion -- a tiny portable stove, three silver pots and a set of utensils, a barrel of water, a crate of wine bottles, a priceless Sith translation plugin with four trashy novels: "Loving Wookiees," "The Jedi who Left the Order for Me (Based on a True Story)," "Sex Droid," and "Among the Clouds" -- a pack of hallucinogenic death sticks, a blaster -- thank hell for that, she was afraid he left her unarmed -- and a bag of gold coins and a holo-map to the nearest town. It’s an hour’s walk. Is there really nothing better to eat? No caf? Dammit, Maul!
She draws back the vines at the cave entrance and looks around. The woods are deep and cold. There are surely mushrooms or something out there. But she doesn’t want to leave -- it isn’t warm in here, but it’s even colder out there.
She wraps herself in the blanket, shivering; she fills a bowl with water and chocolate candies and sets it on the stove to make hot chocolate. She picks up the Wookiee book and flips through it to the nasty parts. She opens one of the wines, dumps a splash of it into the hot chocolate, and curls up with her bowl and book on her hammock. She finishes the drink and, feeling a little better and warmer, falls asleep again.
She wakes up thirty minutes later, staggers out of bed and opens the freezerbox again. No eggs? No vegetables? Just a carcass? She stabs it with a knife and cold blood comes out -- disgusting -- how do you cut it, how do you cook it? -- She remembers that Zabraks are carnivores and love raw meat. Stupid Maul! Doesn’t he know that no one else can live like that?! -- Maybe not. He is so innocent.
She must go to town to buy more food. Will they accept these gold coins? Wait...She will have no idea what they are saying! She has been speaking this whole time in the ancient frozen language of the Sith, a language that can only be passed in direct line from Master to student -- no one else is going to know it!! For every other language, it has been 2000 years!!
She will just have to bear it... How will she get by without a translator and a guide?
What if someone recognizes this Grinanin stranger’s face?
Where is Maul?
Come on! I have a BODY! I am ALIVE! I’m not trapped in ANYTHING! I fear NOTHING!
Dressed and armed, she walks out and starts to head to town -- nervously, she stops and looks back at the cave entrance -- she sees something glinting behind the vines, something in a very tiny cave to the right side of her own -- she moves the vines and sees a bright red speeder, brand new -- she pulls it out with the Force and looks at it, it’s beautiful, like a big red spike with a luxurious chair -- she sits in it, it has that new speeder smell -- she revs it up -- on the speeder, she makes it to town in only ten minutes -- she gets her first look at civilization in the Republic and feels sick to her stomach, where is the red flag of the Sith Empire? -- she reminds herself that she is ALIVE, and that should be, must be, can only be enough -- she pretends to be deaf, she gets a big breakfast from a diner by pointing and nodding, she fills her aching stomach with their hot food -- she pays with one gold coin and gets a strange expression and a lot of change back -- dammit, Maul -- she needs him to explain what all these coins mean before she buys anything else -- but she doesn’t need anything else now -- she returns to her cave, taking the most direct route since she is nervous, and no one is on her tail, as far as she can tell -- she smokes one of the hallucinogens, lies in her cot and sees all kinds of crazy shit, it whiles away her time as she waits... He doesn’t show up all day, she drives back to her diner and gets a gigantic dinner and saves the leftovers in a box which she stores in the freezer on top of the grin-deer. Battery at 65%.
Nothing happens the next day either, but she stays in the cave almost all day and gets into more of a routine. She reads her books and sleeps, mostly, and warms up leftovers, and enjoys the fairground food, and wonders what to do with her grin-deer carcass. And thinks. What should she do now? She drives around and finds a pond with a waterfall to take a bath in. The water is warm -- this is Grinanin, after all, her people evolved here -- two thousand years later, and she is still suited for this world. She wishes she could shed her skin again, just for the fun of it, but her body doesn’t need to yet.
She returns from her bath and smokes another stick... She hallucinates about the bath, and about her bath before that, the one under the gaze of that powerful Sith Lord -- high on the drug, she nearly loses her breath thinking of him, his exhilarating strength in the Force that made her holo project herself so vividly, in her own familiar body, shorter and stronger than this one -- much stronger -- tears pour from her eyes, remembering his power all around her like a castle -- she hallucinates Sidious and his body mixing with hers -- she hallucinates her Master Sunke, her Shell, making love to her, kissing and holding her, and teaching her everything he knows about the Force, and she cries harder -- she remembers how her greatest prophecies came to her mind while she was in her happiest place, on his lap, his arms around her -- she misses him -- how could he go to all this trouble to save her, and not save himself? This selflessness does not become a Sith... And now she must go on without him... Damn the Jedi, for ripping them apart -- she hallucinates her revenge against them, blowing up New Life Star again and again, stabbing her poisoners with her lightsaber, those supposed doctors who were actually murderers -- the smiling face of the Jedi doctor who had captured her -- a halfbreed of course, as all the worst people are, a Togrutan-human abomination -- he chained her up and poisoned her with a colony of parasites -- and released her back to the Sith, to infect the others -- her own sisters had to isolate her -- she couldn’t touch anyone, she could only see them through windows, as her body grew sicker and sicker, and the parasites inside became stronger, threatening to outsmart their prison walls and poison everyone she loved -- until her sisters gave up hope and commanded her to swallow a pill to kill herself -- she obeyed them, but took another pill too, to drift into death in her sleep -- so that, as she was unconscious, her master could transfer her into the holo -- he loved her body, HER body -- she misses him -- she has defiled herself -- Maul has defiled her, and disobeyed her master’s wishes -- she hallucinates running Maul through with her lightsaber, she giggles -- she can’t get her laugh right in this strange body -- her voice box is shaped differently, she can get a lot of her voice to sound how it was, but not her laugh -- she hallucinates Sunke shaking hands with Sidious, and handing her holo to him -- she acts it out with the shadows of her hands on the cave wall, she does voices for them -- Sunke placing all his trust in Sidious, and Sidious swearing to fulfill the great plan -- Sunke was a mighty Force wielder, one of the mightiest -- but he was not as strong as Sidious is.
She falls asleep in the throes of the hallucination, all the images spinning into nonsense and chaos, then stillness. As she lies there in the complete darkness, a blue light passes through the curtain of vines -- the antenna of a probe droid.
* * *
Maul opens one eye and sees Sidious has finally left -- a chance, yes! -- it has been nearly a week!! He bends up and unties his feet from the Temple ceiling; he flips around in the air and lands on his hands and feet. He sneaks to the backdoor, but he is suddenly lifted up with the Force and tied upside-down to the ceiling once more.
Maul groans. “Master, this training has outlived its usefulness.”
Sidious sits in shadows in the corner of the room. “This training is over when I say it’s over.”
“I’m learning nothing new.”
“Hardly any lessons are new. Most are old. Do you have somewhere else to be?”
Maul balls his fists and grits his teeth.
We have no way to communicate. She could have been eaten by grin-bears. Or discovered by locals. She could have run out of wine.
“...Yes.”
“You?” Sidious laughs. “Where?”
“...I met someone.”
“Oho! Someone you care for?”
“A native lad. Gams to die for. Nice ass. Massive wang.”
“You arranged a date with him?”
“Oh yes, and I’m already very late.”
“Apprentice -- you are a secret. No one can know of you. Jedi spies and traitors are everywhere. You may have already been duped by one.”
“He’s only a boy.”
“No one.”
“You must let me go, then. He already knows about me. I’ll bring back his head for you to secure the leak.”
“Barbaric. Let him instead think you were only a dream. Every murder brings you closer to getting caught, and to endangering the secret of all the remaining Sith and our way of life.”
“I shall not get caught.”
“You shall have your fun with him before you kill him?”
“Naturally.”
Sidious sighs. “When I handpicked my apprentice from all the Force-sensitive babies in the galaxy, too young for the Jedi to detect and take for themselves -- from all the most powerful races, the proudest peoples -- and when I chose the youngling with the purest, rawest wellspring of power, just one from among thousands of wriggling newborns -- I had no idea I was picking a faggot.”
Maul dramatically clutches his heart and bends up so that his head is between his knees. “Oh, do mind my fragile faggot feelings, Master! Your words are like arrows to my sensitive faggot heart!”
“Why do I get the feeling that you will be the first Sith in a thousand years who gives away our existence?”
Maul unbends and lets his arms hang down below him, blood rushing back to his head and tired fingers. Turning right-side-up so briefly only made the dizziness worse.
He thinks of Zaster and Sunke -- how could they have loved each other? How is that possible for a student and teacher? What is it like to not be hated by your teacher?
“Master, have I ever failed you in anything? Have I ever come up even an inch short on any task you have ever given me? My whole life has been at your service. You are my master. You are my life. What more must I do to prove my loyalty to you, above all else?”
Sidious smiles up at him, highly amused. Maul flatters better than even Blara -- and what is better, Sidious senses real longing in Maul’s heart, mourning for a relationship that has never existed except in Maul’s deluded mind.
“I can think of a couple things. For one, don’t lie to me.”
Maul’s brow furrows very slightly.
“I know about the Oracle. You know I know.”
Maul takes a deep breath.
“Little Dreela is no stranger to me.”
“What?”
“We have spoken. And more.”
“You...?! What have you done to her?”
“What have I done? What have you done? Taking her from her holo and placing her in a borrowed corpse?”
“I saved her.”
“You defiled her.”
“How long have you been speaking to her?”
“Almost as long as you have. She hasn’t told you?”
Maul is stunned. Then with a burst of ferocity he squirms to free himself from the bonds tying him to the ceiling. Sidious tightens them.
“You lie!!”
“My goodness. Look at you. She must have mentioned me, though. Did she not ask you to ask me how to bring back her body?”
“Where is she? What did you do?”
“Did she not tell you about the pleasures I had with her?”
Rage sears Maul from within. He throws his lightsaber at Sidious and ignites it at the last minute. Sidious deflects it easily, raises his hand and shoots Force-lightning at Maul. The boy screams, more in anger than in pain.
“Why does that bother you? Are you jealous?”
Maul screams at him as loudly as he can. “She is a true Sith! The truest Sith in the universe! And you are the most false! You selfish, cowardly human monster! I am surprised the glory of her presence didn’t render you into dust!! You are not worth a hair on her head! -- And I bet she got a lot more pleasure out of you than you got from her!”
“Are you finished?”
“Thief! I had one thing! One thing for me! You have so much! You glutton!”
The young man bends back his arm and Force-punches his master. He lands the blow, striking Sidious. His middle-aged face is thrust to the side, and Sidious grunts in pain. Maul is shocked, horrified at what he has done to his own master -- he feels so guilty, but he hides that guilt within his fury. His chest rises and falls powerfully, fearfully.
“...Yes, I am finished, Master.”
Sidious turns his head slowly to face Maul. A bruise is already forming around his eye.
“There is one more thing you can do to prove your loyalty to me above all else.”
A tear falls from Maul’s eye, down through the air, and splashes onto the ground.
“Anything, Master.”
“I chose you to be my apprentice. Not her. I do not wish for two apprentices. I am taking good care of her, as I am of you, but I cannot keep you both. The wisdom of our ancestors limited the Sith to two. You and I are the true two. You must kill her.”
“I can put her back in the holo. We can put her back in the library. There is no need to kill her.”
“Oh, but there is. When I found her, starving and half-mad in the cave where you left her, I killed the cursed body you made for her straight away, and put her back in her holo. Then I strengthened the power of the holo with my own power, until I had manipulated the midichlorians inside of it into her true, proper body. I emptied the holo. We threw it away.”
“You mean … she is alive? In her own body?”
“She begged me for help. I could not deny her.”
“You brought her back to life just so I could kill her?”
“Hm, well, when you put it that way, it does seem a little cruel.”
“Just put her back in the holo. Her master could do that, and you are stronger than he was.”
“Perhaps I am, but I do not have the skill. Master Sunke studied that art for years.”
“Let us go back to the library. All Sunke’s notes are there, just beside where I found Zaster. If you don’t want to read them, then I will.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
Maul is silent.
“There is only one position open. You must fight for it.”
“She doesn’t have a lightsaber.”
Sidious laughs. “Oh, she does. She does.”
“...Yes, Master. I will fight her and kill her. For you.”
Sidious holds up his hand in the dark and twists it to read his student’s little mind. Maul may say that he will kill her, but inside, he is wondering how he will save her.
Sidious has taken measurement of them both. Zaster is stronger in the Force, and -- unknown to Maul -- a stronger warrior. Maul does not even have the will to fight. Maul is doomed. But Sidious will wait until Zaster has given him his prophecy … just in case.
