Sacrifice
Posted on Sun Feb 18th, 2018 @ 3:18am by Thane & Loren†
2,591 words; about a 13 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: Jericho
Timeline: Immediately following "Boxed In", concurrent with "Another Way Forward"
"…Taking the life of an innocent is always harder even than taking your own, if you're sincere. This is the ultimate test of selflessness—whether you're ready to face unending emotional pain, true agony, to gain the power to create peace and order for billions of total strangers. That is the sacrifice. To be vilified by others, by people you know and care for, and for your personal sacrifice to be totally unknown to those billions you save, to do your duty as a Sith. To do your duty for the good of the galaxy..."
―Lumiya, Dark Lady of the Sith 40ABY
Each breath tore at Thane's burning chest, each gulp of air a rare and painful reward as his limbs propelled him forwards at speeds that could be scarcely contemplated by any onlookers. Drawing heavily upon the Force, fuelled as it was by his innermost fear and loathing, only now being unlocked in his most desperate hour, Thane's physical form zipped through the winding corridors of the crumbling penal colony at a pace his respiratory system seemed to be barely struggling to cope.
A technique well-worn during lightsaber combat, he now found himself moving at a pace that outstripped any he had previously moved at, calling shamelessly as he was upon his basest of emotions. Even as the universe around him appeared to slow, the former Jedi Knight narrowly avoided crashing into grime-stained ancient walls and long-ignored furniture on more than one occasion as he pursued his quarry, leaping and shifting at a second's notice to not lose pace.
The blistered flesh of his calves had torn under the exertion, but the Caanan paid the blood and pain no heed as he stormed forward, sensing Loren's clear presence, a bright beacon in the murk and mire of Jericho's labyrinthine halls and corridors. Almost as quick as him, his spiritual predecessor was nevertheless canny, artfully shifting and changing direction without the merest hint of her destination.
Fortunately for Thane, her own desperation was like a trail of blood - and he needed to merely follow the scent.
Suddenly, the trail stopped. Reacting in an instant, Thane halted with as much grace as he could muster, barely stopping himself from tumbling forward as he entered large chamber, bright yellow light blinding his reddened eyes and immediately stalling him as they adjusted.
The shattered remnants of his right hand did a poor job of obscuring the brilliant solar beams blasting through the large windows that decorated the far side of the room he was now stood in, undoubtedly comprised of a lesser-standard material that did a poor job of reducing the ocular assault Thane was now suffering courtesy of Jericho's nearby star.
Barely able to maintain the grip on his pilfered vibroblade, the Human staggered for a moment, resting his weight on his good hand as he leaned on the nearest wall, finally allowing himself some much-needed oxygen. With his energy faltering and his pain surmounting once again, Thane's eyes wandered lazily across the chamber he knew Loren to also be in. His injuries and the days' of ceaseless torment had taken their toll. Drugs and Force or no, the Caanan was faltering and his attention dipping, and his intensity seemed to momentarily wane.
Aside from the sun's glare, which he had steadily grown more accustomed to in the minutes since his arrival, the large chamber was littered with load-bearing pillars, grotesquely decorated as they were with large and tangled cables, along with unnecessary alcoves masked in shadows cut into the scorched walls. Shattered paneling sparked, and innumerable wires that seemed to lead nowhere poked out unceremoniously all about the place.
Not for the first time, Thane mused that it seemed Jericho had finally decided of its own accord that the station's time had come; it had seemingly elected that now was the time to eject its barbarian masters and end whatever pointless cycle of tug-and-war it had found itself in for the last few centuries.
Still leaning on the wall and keeping close to it, Thane edged forwards, the blade of his weapon clanging and scraping against the pointless grooves and broken machinery as he did. His foot aimlessly made contact with a small but evidently empty crate, emblazoned as it was with a decades-faded Bendu symbol. Despite himself, Thane's features softened at the sight of it, a slight huff of amusement even escaped his tight chest as he lightly, and oddly, pondered the irony of it all.
Whilst the despair remained him, his rage had dwindled to an ember in his heart, and a combination of growing sorrow - and that deep-set fear of sheer loss - increasingly gripped him.
"Thane... you hav'ta let me go."
Loren's Coruscanti voice echoed around the chamber, its point of origin seemingly nowhere and everywhere at once - a cheap and ages-old trick of any passable Force user.
"To go where?" He replied simply, making no effort to hide the strain in his voice or his location. His eyes wandered now from the crate to beyond the reinforced windows, sore blue eyes following a listless asteroid as it collided with one smaller, undoubtedly miles enough away to avoid ever being a threat to Zrad's palatial rock.
Somewhere out there, he knew, was the Sotah's Woe, Loren's vessel. He could only assume that she intended to steal one of the Exiles' ships to get to it - or perhaps even the Raptor. Thane could not even bring himself to feel indignant about it.
Anger, he reminded himself. Fear and rage. The idiom that had perhaps been just as much a constant friend to him during his captivity as Bomoor.
A pang of guilt struck him as he thought of the Ithorian, having left him as he did with the duchess. But he knew he could not have stayed - not as things were.
"I could'a killed you," Loren's disembodied, tearful voice went on, rather than answering Thane's question - not that he felt she truly needed to.
Thane mulled on that for a moment, before finally pushing himself away from the wall and stepping towards the centre of the chamber, vibroblade hanging lazily at his left side, Form-less. "Perhaps you should have," he answered, more an expression of an internal thought than a suggestion.
There was a punctuated silence as Thane skulked forwards, shoulders hunched, reaching out with the Force as they spoke. He could feel her shock and dismay.
"You don't-" She began, voice faltering, at first sad, before resuming in a more determined and accusative tone: "What's 'appened to you, Thane?"
At that, Thane did feel a sneer and a degree of annoyance tug at him, that ember flickering inside, feeling as though it were licking at his thumping, tired heart, incensing him again. "I thought you of all people would understand," he said, a hint of menace entering his voice, the dryness of his throat from earlier slipping away. "Nothing has happened to me. I've... I've found myself."
"The dark side found you... Darth," Loren then taunted, her tone almost matching Thane's own dark one. "And you expect me to understand?"
Stalking forward, his eyes and his sense searching about the alcoves and pillars, Thane grimaced. "Is this going to become some quarrel over who is more misguided?" He challenged whimsically. "Me or Jundal?"
"Thane," she responded with some exasperation and some degree of a genuine plea in her tone, despite her previous anger. "Curiosity of the Sith is different from becoming one!"
"You don't know what I am!" The rogue Jedi stated, swivelling to face back the way he had come, not yet knowing where Loren had secreted herself.
"I've heard you, Thane - with Bomoor. I've seen it, with that Mandalorian." A pregnant pause, and her voice lowered. "I've felt it."
The Caanan did not respond to that, letting only the echoing of his deliberately heavy footfalls be the only noise reverberating around the room.
"I do know what you are, Thane," she went on as he once again stopped, vibroblade now hovering higher up from the ground, a menacing gold glint of sunshine shimmering along the scarred cortosis-weave blade. "I know you think that you're doing this for a purpose - for the galaxy."
"It sounds so childish when you put it like that."
"Just... just let me go."
"And then it's all lost, isn't it?" Thane challenged, his tone dark but voice quiet, insular. "They've already shown their faith in me and Bomoor by sending you, you who are little more than a glorified catspaw for Quellus and the others. What next - a dagger in the night?" He barely held back a scoff.
Once again, silence claimed the conversation. The tired groans and creaks of Jericho hummed around them for several long moments. Thane's absent fingers throbbed, threatening to divert his attention once more, but he refused to relent again, and elected to focus on fear once more. Only now, the fear was not of discovery - but of what of himself... of what he may do next.
"He loves you, you know," Loren declared softly, voice sounding eerily closer. "Master Sotah. Just as I love you."
The former Jedi Guardian paused. He had expected this, but tried to ignore it. Anticipating his master's name being brought up was not unexpected, but the fact he had anticipated it and still felt his heart skip a beat spoke leagues to him. He knelt down, a slow and uncomfortable movement as his focus faltered and the pain threatened to seep back in.
"I know," he simply managed, closing his eyes, his tear ducts threatening embarrassment. More than a minute passed with nothing further being said, Thane's eyes still clenched shut. Finally, after what felt to him to be an eternity of cycling images of his Selkath mentor and his adopted sister, his voice broke. "But I won't let it end."
With deftness returning to him as he embraced his shame and considered his deep sadness, the heir to Caanus felt the Force tingle along him and rose quickly to his full height. The conversation was moot, tired and dead-ended; there was only one conceivable way in which this did not end with Thane surrendering his chosen destiny. And he knew what had to be done.
As a tear finally slipped down his pale, ragged features, he turned and faced Loren, who now stood behind him in plain sight, golden blade humming, her tears greatly outnumbering his own. "I will never let it end."
Her blade was raised in a two-handed Shii-Cho grip, pointed firmly at Thane's bulk. Its golden glow illuminated the many lines of her attractive, weatherworn face, marred as it had been by tears that were now eerily sparkling in the light of her weapon. "I know," she repeated, sadly and quietly.
Thane's eyes immediately narrowed and he swept forward in a spinning motion, his pain disappearing as he embraced his torment and channeled it with all of his fury into several sliding swipes with his humming cortosis blade, his offhand grip both a hindrance and a boon against his right-handed foe - a foe who knew his forms only all too well.
Loren was only too quick to parry each of Thane's blows, shunting each away with deft yet heavy motions as she slid backwards. Although not as an imaginative a duellist as Thane, she at least had the advantage of an actual lightsaber - and both of her hands.
The two weapons crackled and clanged in an unearthly manner, one that Loren had undoubtedly heard all-too-many times during the Outer Rim Conflict. With his dominant hand unavailable even for strikes or support, Thane tried to stand side-long, throwing quick, one-handed Makashi cuts alongside his Niman swipes - but Loren was fast and uninjured.
As Thane struck forward in a stabbing motion, Loren shifted her weight to the side and grasped her opponent's forearm, before bringing her elbow directly into Thane's nose. Imbuing the motion as she did with the Force, the cartilage in his nose could be heard to crack and the power of the motion sent the man flying backwards.
Pivoting mid-air, Thane recovered and landed on his feet, his legs splayed and his left hand supporting him in front, poised and ready to lunge forward again. Ahead of him, Loren had already sent her lightsaber hurtling towards the grates above the Caanan's head, and it was merely intuition and muscle memory that served Thane has he rolled to safety. Sighting his chance, Thane raised his mangled right hand in Loren's direction, and unleashed a barrage of Force-fed lightning directly at the Jedi, pouring his regret and determination into it.
Blue forks of electricity arced forward, lacing their way across the metal flooring and conduits before finding their desired target. Loren's eyes went wide, as much in surprise at the feat as in concern, and she narrowly managed to call her own weapon back to her hand before the blast flung her into the pillar behind her.
Pain creased her face as she fell forwards, both hands supporting her weight on the ancient deckplating as blue sparks, the after-effects of the assault, crackled around her. Thane sped at the Jedi Shadow, vibroblade brought round from the left to strike at Loren's neck. Recovering, her leather-and-cloth attire smoldering, her yellow blade connected once again with Thane's sword, and the pair shunted one another in a mimicry of a traditional saber lock.
Loren's eyes focused immediately upon Thane's own, just inches away from one another, and determination quickly turned to wide-eyed shock, finding the once-sky blue eyes of the former Jedi shining a brilliant, swirling gold, the colour bleeding out into the stark white surrounding it.
And in that moment of shock, Thane released his left-handed grip of his weapon, letting it drop. Within the same motion, he ducked down and spun, raising his body up once more as he clasped his weapon again with his mangled right hand in one fell swoop and thrust upwards, directly into the centre of Loren's chest.
A sharp gasp of air left the Coruscanti Knight's mouth as the blade pierced her heart. Her legs gave way and her leather-hilted lightsaber slipped from her instantly loose grip, clattering away from the pair. Letting his own weapon drop, ignoring the pain he had subjected himself to, Thane caught Loren as she collapsed, lowering her carefully to the floor as the life slowly slipped from her body.
The stench of burnt ozone and blood filled Thane's crushed nostrils, bloodied as they were themselves. The glare of Jericho's sun painted Loren's draining pallor an unearthly porcelain gold as she shuddered ever more slowly in Thane's arms.
"Th- Thane-" She spluttered, blood pooling in her mouth. Scared, desperate pleading eyes stared into Thane's own, once again blue and now stained with honest tears.
"I know," he said softly, before her head lulled backwards in his grip, and he felt her presence finally escape this grim, mortal plan. And so there they both sat together in that chamber on Jericho - starlit and empty.
"...it's easy to be a clean-cut hero slaying monsters. There's always a little bit of vanity in it. There can be no room for vanity or pride... in being despised."
―Lumiya
THANE
▼ Dark Side Shift
▬ Melee combat Increase
▬ Form VI (Niman) Increase
▬ Force Lightning Increase
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