In Search of Blood

Posted on Sun Apr 22nd, 2018 @ 11:08pm by Rusasha Djehuti-Lahan & Zenarrah Sozo & Amare
Edited on on Wed Aug 22nd, 2018 @ 4:27pm

2,559 words; about a 13 minute read

Chapter: Chapter V: Unbound
Location: S.S. Scrimshaw; somewhere in the Mid Rim Territory
Timeline: A week after "The Penitent's Shadow"
Tags: Zenarrah, Coda's mom, Rusasha, Jedi shadow, Quellus, living force

ON:

The grim GNN report that was seen on the widescreen holoprojected image was akin to a low-hanging bulbous rotten fruit enmeshed with flies and maggots to the small group of people seated in the passenger compartment.

"...the deathtoll now at twenty-four dead and several more critically wounded. There are more than a dozen others still missing and unaccounted for at this time. Although murder is nothing new to life on Nar Shaddaa, it has been years since this level of savagery has been seen in such a short span of time. Business leaders on the Hutt-controlled moon claim they are confident this is the work of a rogue terrorist that is attempting to undermine the foundations of the free market. When questioned on whom they thought was responsible for the murders, they refused further comment..."

"Hngh! They would have us believe those were all innocent victims," grumbled an old human man seated near someone covered head to toe in billowing brown robes. "Nobody's innocent on Nar Shaddaa. Buncha Hutt snakes! Look at 'em. See that armor? Them be bounty hunters. They had what's comin' to them."

"Pipe down you old fart!" cried a rodian female across the aisle seated next to her sleeping husband and cradling a little rodian newborn. "You're making my baby fussy."

"Yeah, yeah," the old man waved them off. "Blow it out yer snout. When you get as old as I am, you'll appreciate the joy at yelling and cussing at the galaxy. It's all you'll have left! Har har!"

The rodian woman said some curses in her native language and turned away in disgust as she tried to calm her whining infant.

"Not all of us here disagree with you, old timer," said the robed one next to him, the voice dry and somewhat raspy, but still noticeably feminine.

"Oh no, not you too," the rodian lady said shaking her head and glowering at the robed cynic.

"You sound like a woman after me own heart," the old man said with a proud grin. "Say, why're ya hiding under that hood? It's not even that cold in here. And that's sayin' a lot let me tell ye. I'm old, and I always complain about the cold. Hahaha!"

"It's more interesting to listen to the world rather than look at it," said the robed one. "And from what I heard, those bounty hunters were trying to hurt someone important to the killer. It wasn't terrorism; it was revenge."

"No kidding," the old man said, but feeling skeptical. "Now where'n you heard somethin' like that, hey?"

"Because I know who did it," the raspy words shocked the few people in the compartment, including another robed figure far in the back who was listening intently.

"What? Really? Who?" the rodian's inquiring mind wanted to know.

"Let's just say she was a friend that came close to killing me too," the robed one removed her hood to reveal her grayish blue nautolan features. "Someone I trusted long ago. I used to live on Nar Shaddaa. I had to get away after those killings. Can't say I disagreed with the why, but I didn't like the methods. They were too...dark for my liking."

The old man was staring at the middle aged nautolan woman and couldn't help but notice something that stuck out to him. "That's a hell of a scar, ma'am," he said gesturing with an index finger running horizontal across his neckline. "Someone slit yer throat?"

The rodian leaned over a bit to get a look and gasped at the sight of the scar line.

"The price of misplaced trust," the nautolan said with a forlorn nod. "Excuse me," she rose to her feet, shuffled past the old man and went up the aisle to the door and into the adjoining cargo compartment. The other robed figure rose up as well, and cautiously followed in pursuit.

---

The S.S. Scrimshaw was an old XS-series cargo hauler that included comfortable living spaces and amenities for passengers. This particular model had considerable room in its cargo bays putting most Corellian light freighter designs to shame. When the robed one heard it was making its way to the Outer Rim from Nar Shaddaa at a reasonable rate, she couldn't pass it up even if it meant leaving herself vulnerable to someone who took particular interest in her; someone who was quite strong in the Force.

Her stalker entered the tidy port side cargo compartment and sealed the door behind them.

"So it was you after all," the stalker said with a youthful female voice with a harsh accusing tone. "You don't even deny it, do you, Zenarrah?"

Zenarrah's back was to the stalker, her head tendrils writhing and stretching in the stalker's direction as if scanning for who or what the person was.

"I prefer 'Zen'. You're a padawan of the Reborn, aren't you?" Zen asked in her crisp gravelly voice.

"Jedi Knight," the stalker sharply corrected. "And a shadow like you."

"No," Zen countered turning slightly towards her right shoulder. "You haven't been immersed enough in the dark side to understand what it truly means to conceal yourself in it. I've sensed your aura trailing me for weeks since you arrived on Nar Shaddaa. They sent you to bring me back to the fold. They think that my years of service to the 'Penitent' is grounds enough to redeem me to the light. I wonder if they knew how impossible such a task would be to fulfill."

The stalker was embarrassed and flustered to realize she had been known to her target for so long, even after all the difficult concentration to attempt to remain hidden from all Force-sensitives. She tried to hide her failure from her voice.

"You walked away from Master Lahan," the stalker remarked. "You let him die."

"Rynseh Lahan crossed the line at Balmorra," Zen said, reliving one of the darkest days of her life. "I didn't walk away from him. He abandoned us all for his crusade. He put the mission ahead of the lives of his padawans and it got him killed. To think how much I looked up to him only to see him die as a fool."

Zen turned to face her stalker who had just ignited her green lightsaber. The red-haired cathar girl's face instantly became recognizable to the aging nautolan. The stalker's tawny fur and light green feline eyes left no doubt to whom she was.

"How dare you insult his honour!" she shouted at Zen.

"Ah, you are his daughter..." Zen breathed her amazement. "Yes, of course. The youngling cathar girl that traveled with us to Ilum for 'training purposes' all those years ago. He brought you there to find the very crystal that empowers your sword."

The cathar was inwardly stunned to hear so personal a truth, but hid it by sheer grit and grim determination as she took up a standard shii-cho combat stance, but her body betrayed her Jedi training.

"You are trembling, girl," Zen noted. "I have not drawn a weapon to you. You have me at a disadvantage, yet you are afraid."

"Shut up! You will be silent!!" the cathar growled at her with barred fangs and charged with a powerful overhead chop.

Zen locked her large featureless black eyes on the headstrong knight, and easily dodged the chop, the wild swing after that and swiftly leapt back from the cross-slash that followed putting several feet's distance between them. The stalker charged in a fever pitched rage yet again, but her second assault was cut short with a hard telekinetic slap that instantly reversed her iron locomotive momentum in the opposite direction and causing her to lose grip of her lightsaber which turned itself off as a safety feature. The push threw her off her feet and suffered a rough landing flat on her back sliding near the cargo bay entrance where she started.

"Impressive," Zen commented whilst catching her breath. "Channel those feelings. That is the source of your power. It is your advantage as a woman. The darkness calls to you through your emotions. Embrace it! Only then can you hide in the shadows created by the light."

"I don't need your advice you filthy traitor!" the cathar snapped at her after getting the wind back in her lungs. She awkwardly shuffled through her pain back to her feet, and used the Force to summon her lightsaber to her hand which she instantly ignited yet again.

"Your father once taught me an important lesson," Zen calmly explained, "'If you can mask your presence, then you can mask your intentions, and if you can do that...you can do anything'."

The two women began slowly stepping to the side, encircling the center of the mostly empty cargo bay.

"Come on!" the cathar demanded, shifting herself into a soresu stance with a technique that was lacking confidence. "Why won't you fight me?!"

"I tremendously respected Rynseh," Zen replied, "and in some ways saw him as a father too. He saved me when I was lost and alone. I was wrong to call him a fool; yes, quite the contrary. He was bold, a paragon of confidence, and favored the third form of lightsaber combat like you are showing now. He was a titan among Jedi. None could break his defense in a duel. But even with all his power and skill, he was still used as nothing more than a pawn by the Council and the Republic. They sharpened and coddled his pride with accolades and honors and gave him a group of their best padawans, his 'Knights of the Peace', he proudly called us. I remember after the anointment ceremony, the six of us swore we would follow him to the ends of the universe; die for him if that's what it took to serve the light. But instead of allowing us to do good for the people, they chose to send us out to do the dirty work for the politicians that never hesitated to stain our hands with blood."

"If you know so much about my father," the cathar began to ask, her mind swelling from what she just heard. "Then why did you leave the Knights after he died? Why send me after you?"

"Don't you know?" Zen retorted. "No, perhaps you wouldn't. You are indeed so much like him. Obeying orders without question, ignoring your gut when it tells you something is amiss with your masters. Rynseh had unparalleled instincts on the battlefield, but he was so completely blind to the intentions of the Reborn."

"Are you saying they are lying to me?!" the cathar asked incredulously. "No...they wouldn't--"

"They have done so time and time again," Zen interjected whilst gradually stepping closer to her stalker. "They lied to your father. They lied to you. They even lied to me about my daughter."

"Y-your daughter?"

"Her name is Zaracoda. I protected her for nearly five years on Nar Shaddaa without her even knowing I was there," Zen said solemnly stopping just short of the green saber's deadly reach. "When she was born, I left her on Glee Anselm with a good nautolan family there to care for her so that I could find purpose in the light. Later, when I served by Rynseh's side, Grand Master Quellus himself informed me that my only child was slain by pirates while her family was traveling en route to uncharted territory. I learned through the Force that it was a lie. The truth was that she was sold into slavery. That was the end of my loyalty to the Jedi."

The moment hung thick as blood in water as the two women stared heavily at each other in silence for a tense moment.

"You have a decision to make," Zen said softly with full acceptance of the moment, fearless of the green lance of super-heated plasma that was brandished perilously in front of her. "The Order and their politics, or a broken old woman who stands before you as a friend and the last living acolyte of your father. Choose carefully."

The cathar grinded her teeth as it seemed like she was set to repeat history as her father did; to mercilessly carry out the will of the Reborn Jedi. She pulled back her lightsaber as if winding up for a killing swing, and then...the saber was deactivated, and her guard was lowered.

Zen allowed herself a warm smile and offered her open palms to her former stalker. "I never forgot those eyes of yours, Rusasha."

The cathar's eyes widened with shock, and her jaw hung open at the revelation of her name. Her shoulders slumped as she sensed Zen's honesty and love standing so close in proximity to her. She clipped her saber onto her belt at her side and gazed at Zen's blue hands, and looked up at the taller nautolan, intrigued with the strange yet pretty swirls in her eyes.

Zen nodded her permission to Rusasha, and accepted her paws. In perfect sync, they both closed their eyes and communicated their deepest feelings and thoughts through their mutual connection to the Force. For but the very briefest of moments, Rusasha felt weightless, love and joy wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She saw a dark cave filled with eldritch hieroglyphs, a beautiful nautolan egg glowing with intense orange red light, and a man...a dusky-skinned human with cold dark brown eyes. She felt Zen's anger, frustration, and grief. So much grief. She opened her eyes moments later as tears started rolling down her furry face.

"I'm sorry I attacked you," Rusasha apologized with deep regret in her heart. "I...didn't know you."

"You still don't," Zen said and took a deep breath of relief and joy. "But if you wish to come with me, I will teach you everything I know about the Living Force. Things I always wanted to show my daughter, but couldn't. Perhaps someday, with your help, we can find Zaracoda, and the three of us can serve the Force in ways never before seen. We can establish a new order together."

"A new...order?"

"Yes," Zen replied. "An order that puts family first above all things. We will never let anyone--no master, no politician, no dogma--ever divide us from our loyalty to the Force. We will follow its will and let it be our guide. We will fight with light in our hands, and bravely walk in the darkness with our hearts."

"Then...if I come with you, will I have to serve as your apprentice?"

"No, you are more important to me than that. Today, I give unto you my love and my trust...as my daughter. I swear by the name and eternal memory of your father that I will nourish, teach, and protect you as if you were my own blood. Let us search for Zaracoda and complete the circle."

Zen leaned down and kissed the cathar on her forehead, and they tearfully embraced as if they were mother and daughter reunited after many years apart.

This was destiny, Zen thought. This young one was the balanced she needed to keep her from tipping completely over to the dark side. This was indeed a blessing of the Force.

OFF

 

RSS Feed

Comments (2)