Tightrope

Posted on Thu Apr 25th, 2019 @ 2:48am by Rynseh Lahan & Zenarrah Sozo

3,083 words; about a 15 minute read

Chapter: Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Descent (T.R.I.O. starship)
Timeline: Follows "The First Rule of Assassination"

OLD:

"I found them, your wayward sons of the temple," Zenarrah turned to face Rynseh once more and saw the stunned look in his feline eyes. "It's a shame the harbormaster died for nothing. I had asked you to put off meeting him, but then you never were one for listening to me. I've built a network on this moon, and it bore me fruit...with some persuasion, of course. So are you coming, or do you prefer bathing in this filthy rain?"

Rynseh glanced at the lifeless Bith sniper, took a deep breath and shook his head before showing his visible skepticism to his former padawan. "Where are they?" He began following her up the ramp.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Korriban."

"What?!"

"Told you."

The ramp closed behind them and the Descent quickly ascended towards the stars.

ON:

Rynseh Lahan showed no reaction to the antiseptic ointment his former apprentice applied to the second-degree burn on his right paw, not even the slightest wince or grunt. Much of his sense of pain on the surface level of his body had burned away years ago. Any agony that was deeper and more intense was dulled by his Jedi powers honed from years of wartime experience which enhanced his pain tolerance.

“The Force blesses you yet again,” Zenarrah Sozo said to her former master as she carefully unpacked a pre-treated roll of kolto-laced wrappings. “This could have been much worse.”

Rynseh’s eyes were following Zen’s lithe blue hands dressing his hand, the same care, confidence, and paramedic’s skill he saw when she pulled him out of the industrial fire years earlier on Balmorra and assisted with his treatment on the evac shuttle. It was similar to that day all over again, only a lot less painful, and the air free of the stench of his own cooked flesh.

“You never told me when or how you learned to do this,” Ryn said to her. “When did you find the time to learn?”

“Late sleepless nights after twelve hour shifts in the Temple Guard,” Zen replied, her mind awash in nostalgia. “You’d be amazed how much you can learn through correspondence courses on the Holonet. One day, the master-at-arms let me end my watch early to use the training simulator so I could perform my final exam in emergency wound care. I even wore the University's student paramedic uniform for the occasion. When I passed, I put back on my robes and mask and never spoke of it again.”

“I admire your initiative,” Ryn remarked, “Your education saved my life, but…why? What pushed you to pursue medicine when you were so focused in martial training?”

“Tradition,” Zen answered as she finished bandaging Ryn’s paw and briefly inspected her work before gazing long and hard into the Cathar’s stern feline eyes. “Kin of Sozo blood have long had a history of combat healing tracing back to the ancient wars between the Nautolans and the Anselmi. I continued the ways of my clan when I received word of my parents’ deaths on Cularin. There was a labor dispute between the native Tarasins and GalactaWerks. Father, a company foreman, took GW’s side against the natives and the workers’ union, and he paid the price. Mother tried to protect him, but…it was a massacre. I had a brother as well, apparently, and he too was lost. That was the first and last time I heard about them since the Order took me away not long after my metamorph into an infant. I have all the personal affects they left behind that I could carry. I look forward to educating Zaracoda of her heritage when we find her. I have seen what she is capable of on Nar Shaddaa. She would make an excellent consular or sentinel. She’ll be invaluable to the Order.”

Ryn’s eyes widened slightly at that last bit. “You…wish her to train as a Jedi? Even after--?”

“You will be her master,” Zen cut in as she began the lie she ran through her mind for the last several days, but kept her tone and surface thoughts appearing as sincere as she possibly could muster. Deceiving Rynseh in conversation in such close proximity was a constant performance of intense mental defense whilst putting on a calm and relaxed show of tenuous friendship with the master she once cared for with all her hearts. It was a delicate tightrope walk, one she so far kept her balance on, and felt some relief knowing that as the Descent surged closer to Korriban through hyperspace, she wouldn’t have to keep up the charade for much longer. “She is far beyond the normal age of admission, yes, but she has been in communion with the Force for much of her life without knowing it. It will be easy for you to convince the council once they see what she is capable of. After all, Quellus wanted her before, remember?”

“Yes, but you left her with the Wolph family and provided legal defense for them against us,” Ryn countered with a skeptical expression. “Now, after all these years, you’re just going to willingly let her go in my care?”

Zen nodded once, slowly, and reluctantly. “’The nature of all things is change. It’s the way of the Living Force’. You once said that to me. It was your wisest lesson of all. Look, the Wolphs are gone, and they are almost avenged. I will release Zara to you and the Council if you agree to let me freely hunt down the pirate captain that murdered her adopted family. Once that is done, I will disappear and remain as far from Coruscant as possible and never interfere in galactic affairs. This I swear. All I ask is that you find a good place for my daughter in the Order. She will not disappoint you…at least not like I have.”

Zen rose from the bedside and started to leave Ryn to his thoughts when she heard him call to her.

“You’ll walk away from her then?” Ryn asked. “Your attachment to her is powerful. Why leave her with me instead of training her yourself?”

Zen froze in front of the medbay door. It was a startling question that stepped a pace too close to the truth. She started to answer over her shoulder whilst slowly turning around, “I want for Zara what you gave to Rusasha. My daughter, just as yours, deserves a chance at becoming powerful and using her gifts for a righteous cause. I cannot give that to her. Not as the woman you see before you now. I walked too long in the shadows, and it's best I stay in them, forgotten. Zara is emotional, passionate, and holds a radiant, indomitable spirit. There is good within her, and only the Jedi can bring that out best while she gains the benefits and peace of the Code.”

“You say all of that,” Ryn retorted, his head slightly tilted to one side, his face a visage of confusion, “yet you yourself walk away from the Code. Confess openly to indulging in shades of the dark side. Even so, you musn't sell yourself short. There is good in you as well. You've slipped, you've fallen, but you are not yet lost. Come back with me, Zen. This world of darkness you’ve thrown yourself into, this path of vengeance…you’re better than that. You can show Zaracoda the true meaning of redemption, just as I will with Thane and Bomoor. The true beauty of the light is forgiveness. I believe in second chances, Zenarrah. You are all welcome to return and make things right. We can face the prophecies of the coming darkness together, united, as it should be.”

Zen felt dumbfounded and utterly astounded at Ryn’s absurdly generous offer, and yet she sensed the Cathar was entirely sincere, making the words even harder to hear. It was an unexpected and overwhelming turn this late in her plans. Damn him... she thought just beneath her defenses, bits of her deep feelings of guilt seeping through the minute cracks, ...the Force delivers such intense persuasion through his simple words, and he isn't even attempting a mind trick. Each of her hearts skipped a beat as she found herself wavering on her mental tightrope, the light side pulling her from her razor-thin balance.

“But…Quellus—” she began to say with a doubtful shake of her head.

“—Is a politician at heart,” Ryn finished for her as he rose from the bed to stand at his full daunting height in front of her. “He will do what is best for his constituency in the Temple. Always has. If not for the Force, he would surely have been at Paralles’s side instead of Hul, if not as the Chancellor himself. I know how to speak his language, persuade him to see things in a way that works best for his agenda. When he accepts all of you back into the fold, it will look very good for him in the eyes of the Council. It will confirm to them that his wisdom and ability to redeem what was once lost is indeed the will of the Force.”

“Is it?” Zen asked with a raised brow.

Ryn allowed a slight smile to show. “What do you think, Zenarrah Sozo, Jedi Knight?”

Zen turned away and huffed a breath of disbelief. The thought of going back to the way things were…it was oh so tempting. She, however, strongly believed that life wasn’t so simple. No one could simply turn back time and make the past become the present. As long as memories and records persisted, there could never be any going back. If Masters Sotah or Thurius or just about any of the others on the Council had been the Grand Master, she would have considered Rynseh’s offer. With Quellus in charge, however, it was impossible, and the idea of serving under that bastard Chagrian’s watch all over again made the once vaunted title of Jedi Knight sound like a pitiful joke.

Steady… she reminded herself. You are near the end. The Force has provided you enough slack to trick a Jedi Master this far. Don’t lose sight of the goal when you’re so close. One mistake, and he will see through your lies. Focus!

“It’s…kind of you to say,” Zen offered as she recouped her composure. “I will consider your offer after I know Zara is safe. In the meantime, you should prepare your mind for the possibility that Thane and Bomoor may not be as willing to return as you desire. You should also consider that they may be complicit with Knight Loren’s fate. That alone may be enough for them to view our appearance as a hostile act.”

“If that is so, then we will mete out some form of punishment,” Ryn said with a curt nod as he led the way out of the medbay with Zen in tow, “but we cannot lose our best when a foretold threat may soon be coming.”

“You mean the Cult of Axion?”

“At first, we thought so, but no…there is a more sinister shift in the Force. Every Reborn Master has felt it to some degree. Rarely is it even spoken of in open Council sessions, and only then in vague terms. The Cult is a part of it, yes, and they shall not be underestimated, but it runs deeper than even the threat they pose. It is, what we think, is the sum of our worst fears. It has haunted the Order for decades, long before even I was a Padawan.”

“Should I even be allowed to hear this? An outsider?”

“You are no outsider to me, Zen. The return of the Sith could affect the entire galaxy as it always has in ages past.”

“The Sith?” Zen tried to muffle her surprise at the mere mention of the word, but it was indeed yet another unexpected turn. She had suspected Thane and Bomoor may have indeed taken a turn towards the dark side in pursuit of Axion and his minions. However, the idea of the Sith coming back was discombobulating, but also strangely…enticing. She hadn’t seriously considered that to be so much a possibility, but it was one she let her imagination play with in passing. Dark Jedi, yes, but actual Sith? “How can they return? We’ve captured and eliminated so many pieces of their history and knowledge. I was personally responsible for overseeing the destruction of several prominent Sith artifacts. We have Korriban on lockdown with some of our best keeping constant watch. I bet when we arrive, we’ll find Thane, Bomoor, and hopefully my daughter in a holding cell on the station. There’s just no way the Sith can reemerge after all this time.”

“The Sith influenced everything from Wild Space to the Core Worlds throughout the millennia,” Ryn said as they strode into the cockpit. He stared into the luminous spiraling hyperspace tunnel that swirled before them as he added, “There’s no way we found everything of significance. All it takes is a miscreant Force user that stumbles upon one mention of any given Dark Lord, or a Sith ritual detailed on a preserved scroll or data module. The possibility of missing holocrons falling into the wrong hands yet remains. None of the Shadows found the Holocron of Heresies, for example. That alone has been of particular concern to the Council for a long time. So you see, the Sith can indeed return. That is why we need all able hands to stand ready if or when they do. That’s why I need you by my side. Alone, I may have to kill the Human and Ithorian if they resist, but between you and I, we could humble them, help them shake off their maverick tendencies and encourage them to stand with their brothers and sisters in the Order, lightsabers shining in the light once more. We’ll swiftly eliminate the Cultists and restore peace and stability to the galaxy, and we will end the Sith once and for all.”

Rynseh’s words gave a lot for Zen to ponder, most especially the mention of the Holocron of Heresies. She knew of it from her Shadow training: the ancient archive of Darth Andeddu’s knowledge said to contain the secret of eternal life. She had been led to believe that it was very likely to have been destroyed over the centuries, or lost somewhere far out of reach to never be of any real concern, but now to know that it remained an item of great importance to the Reborn High Council, and possibly Quellus himself…perhaps it was still out there somewhere in reach. It would be incredible knowledge to acquire, the very exact power she would give to Zaracoda…no…to Amare.

Zen faced the flight control console and closed her eyes to strengthen her resolve to keep her emotions from flooding the room. The very thought of transforming her daughter into an actual Sith Lord, one with the power to live forever, someone who could eventually challenge and bring down Jundal Quellus…it was absolute bliss. The oily swirls that lurked within her aquatic eyes shifted and spiraled with glee. She would gladly give her life to make such an idea a reality. In the meantime, she would continue to perilously walk the path she chose in her quest to reclaim and empower her only remaining child.

Sensing that she was close to losing her grasp of her carefully crafted Force-augmented deceptions, she started to feign a severe bout of nausea with a soft moan of agony spurred on from abdominal pain she deliberately struck herself with by just the will of her mind and the midi-chlorians in her body.

“Zenarrah? Is something the matter?” Ryn asked noticing the visible signs of the Nautolan’s distress.

“I’m fine, just…some cramps,” she answered and smiled up at the Cathar weakly. “A reminder that I’m past my days of fertility. I’m getting old, Rynseh. Nautolans don’t live as long as we’d like to.”

Ryn nodded his understanding. Even with the Force as his staunchest ally, he could still feel the entropy of time’s passage stabbing at his joints on occasion, and his past injuries certainly didn’t make being middle-aged any easier. He felt a touch of pity for Zen knowing that while he may have had thirty or forty years of life still ahead of him, Zen might’ve had only fifteen to twenty at best. It was virtually unheard of, even among their Force-sensitives, for Nautolans to live past the age of 70; Zen was pushing 45. Perhaps the only good thing, it seemed, was that the appearance of advanced age sometimes came very late in the Nautolan lifespan, so Zen still had the appearance of a female in her early 30s and showed no signs of being any older for the time being.

“Go rest up in the cabin,” he said gently placing a comforting paw on her shoulder. “We’ve still a ways to go before we reach Korriban. Thank you for caring for me again, my friend. And know this: you’ve never truly let me down.” He smiled warmly at her, oblivious to her dark intentions. He had witnessed earlier on Nar Shaddaa that Zen was capable of some very dark deeds, but he nevertheless held hope that she could yet be saved. It was simply his way; more than willing to kill if necessary, but more than happy to redeem a lost soul if possible.

When Zen turned and left for the privacy of her quarters, she knew that was her edge over the superior might of the Cathar master of the Force. That naivete, that blind trust, the unwillingness to see the truth when it was staring right at him with wide coal black eyes…it was a bundled collection of ripe exploits where she held the dagger closest to. When the time was right, she would stab, drop the façade, and take great joy in twisting the blade.

TBC

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