Thy Master's Bidding
Posted on Tue Dec 3rd, 2019 @ 9:58pm by Thane & Amare
5,230 words; about a 26 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Mensix Mining Facility, Mustafar
Timeline: Week Two, one day after "The Mustafar Method" & "Truth in Fire's Light"
"Information is a commodity. It can be traded, sold, and purchased. And in the end, credits are only as useful as the secrets they can buy."
―Darth Bane, circa 990 BBY
Serus had spent the night, or for what passed as night in the perpetual lava-lit darkness of Mustafar, awake in communion with Darth Bane's holocron, a habit that had become less common in recent weeks, although no less thought of by the aspirant young Sith Lord. Calling deeply upon the dark side of the Force, bolstered with unnatural power from the ancient volcanic world, he had foregone the need for actual sleep, relying instead on brief meditations to sustain his formerly-exhausted body.
As well as the sheer mental and spiritual exhaustion that generally accompanied his more in-depth engagements with his faux-master, Serus' body had suffered physically from his duels with both Amare and Zenarrah, the separate engagements with the mother and daughter both surprisingly taxing yet rewarding, for different, but welcome, reasons. He had learned much from both duels, and indeed had discovered a great deal from his discussions and training with Zenarrah, who had already introduced him to the principles of the advanced, and forbidden (and largely-forgotten) seventh form of lightsaber combat: Vaapad.
His mind racing and spirit unwilling to surrender the opportunity for further wisdom and discourse, the Sith had sought out his holocron from the Red Raptor, and had taken it into one of the deeper sanctums within the old Mensix Mining Facility, where he had established a primitive chamber for his solitary learning and ruminations. Serus had taken the time to divulge the recent developments with his Nautolan companions to Darth Bane, who had listened with suppressed approving interest for the most part, although he had taken the opportunity to yet again chide Serus on his unwillingness to yield himself with utter devotion to the dark side, claiming that there was yet much of the Jedi Knight Thane within him. In the same turn, the gatekeeper had commended Zenarrah's incisive assessments of the same thing, which further affirmed Serus' decision to have faith in Amare's mother - at least for the moment.
Bane had taken the opportunity to turn the conversation further towards Serus' rise to be the generation's true Dark Lord of the Sith, explaining in morbid, macabre detail the provenance and meaning of the Darth title, which he again urged Serus to claim (and made the occasional threat regarding). This had, interestingly, and with directed enthusiasm from Serus, led into an historical account regarding the teachings of Darth Revan, some five millennia prior to the rise of the Third Republic; Darth Bane, in his lifetime, had uncovered Revan's own Sith holocron on the homeworld of the Rakata, the very-same 'Builders' Serus and the others had artificially encountered within the Mind Prison on Korriban, and how Bane had premised his own order upon Revan's beliefs.
The fallen Dark Lord's avatar also, for the first time, announced his knowledge of many ancient Sith techniques, passed down by Revan's avatar to Bane's progenitor and committed to the latter's memory - and, therefore, the holocron's Forcely lattices. Serus had listened with rapt interest to the power of the Mind Bomb and the horrors it had unleashed, through Darth Bane's machinations, upon both Jedi and Sith on Ruusan, as well as the details of previously-untold blights the dark side could claim credit for and dominion over.
It was only a preliminary introduction to such techniques and premises, but it was greedily welcomed by Serus, who noted the cautionary tale of Ruusan and the doomed Brotherhood of Darkness, that had so reviled the Darth title, Bane had felled, even if the only power the holocron had over him was to withhold knowledge.
As the Mustafarian sun had risen far behind the ash-addled clouds, the gatekeeper had begun drawing his sermons to a close, directed through they were, as was the norm, towards a cogent point. For the first time, the Dark Lord's icon had revealed pertinent details of his creator's origins; he had been a cortosis miner, conscripted into the Sith army later, having mined the rare and coveted ore on Apatros, under the thumb of a corporate giant not unlike the Third Republic's GalactaWerks.
When Serus had challenged him on the purpose of this personal revelation and the reference to corporations and resources, the gatekeeper had flared a darker red, casting a crimson glow across the dark chamber. On this occasion, he had elected to be garbed in simple, thick black robes, which were loosely wound about his muscled frame and bald head, no sign of his orbalisk armour or subsequent scarring in sight, but it did nothing to diminish his remarkable and imposing visage, even as the echo of a once-powerful being.
"Prowess in combat is the simplest display of the dark side’s power," Bane had told him sternly, referencing Serus' combat with Zenarrah and Amare. "Brutal and quick, it serves a purpose. Yet it is often less effective than subtlety and cunning. You are but two, arrayed against a galaxy of factions, political, corporate and spiritual. You must turn these groups to your side or your advantage, or they must be destroyed. All power that does not come from you, could be used against you."
"And through power," Serus had added, "I gain victory."
The observation had elicited the right response from the gatekeeper, a small nod of assent given for Serus' understanding, having appeased his incorporeal mentor. Their discourse had concluded only a short while after those comments, and Serus had taken to meditating on the philosophising that had occurred between the extant and extinct Sith Lords, his eyes closed but face directed towards the one window in the room. As well, he allowed himself a descent into the dark currents of power he was discovering within Mustafar itself, the grim energy flowing lines veins through the planet like some terrible and almighty slumbering god, teetering on the edge of consciousness and the blazing retribution a full awakening would unleash.
On a few occasions, the Caanan had been threatened with losing himself within those roaring tides, but he had always managed to draw his mind and body to the fore when necessary, and ensured control over the remarkable power bubbling about him. Kneeling, Serus allowed those cataclysmic dark energies to be directed through him to an artefact placed upon the floor beside him. It was a mask, wrought in roughly-beaten metal alloy of unknown composition, scarred and seemingly ancient.
Serus had purchased it on the black market, making use of the burgeoning network he had been fostering where possible, assured that it had been possessed by the Sith of antiquity. Keen to bring the relic's dark majesty to heel, he had taken to using Mustafar's nexus of power to pour his own intents, desires and reservations into the object, intent on making it an heirloom of his own designs.
It was but one of a great many schemes that Serus sought to bring to reality, and with the wise urging from the holocron, he had now elected to see yet another plot finally made real, the groundwork having already been set, and already further facilitated by such actions as their claiming of the Mensix Facility, so conveniently far from organised and civilised sectors.
The parting of the singular doorway into the chamber signified the commencement of that next plot.
Serus' gold-rimmed eyes opened.
There was little for the lustrous flows of Lady Amare's large dark eyes to take in from the makeshift private chamber her Lord Serus had claimed, but there was the grim beauty of the ancient holocron, radiant in its crimson inner glow, a timeless curriculum vitae of both the classical and modern Sith culture and way of life. An unparalleled singularity of knowledge and power, it seized her attention enough to inspire her to briefly pause at the door's entrance, commanding her to reveal her awe in its presence. A few seconds later, she found her will to move her legs again and stop a few paces short of her master to fall to one knee and obediently bow her head to his dominant presence, the man who so easily commanded the key to the glorious secrets of the Sith and the Rule of Two; the key she so badly wished to hold in her own hands again.
"I answer thy summons, my master," Amare said with deep, yet controlled reverence and respect. She did not know where her language of service came from, but she did not think; she simply allowed the dark side to move her words as it willed her. She raised her head and instinctively added, "How shall I execute your will?"
Serus rose with ease from his meditative position, clasping the nearby mask in one hand in the same motion, although he left the holocron where it sat. He had discarded the form-fitting dark tunic and clothing from the day before, having become singed during his dalliance with his apprentice, and was now dressed in a loose all-black ensemble of robes, a rarity for the former Jedi. It still smacked of the Sith Lord's occasional penchant for elegance, however, with robe-tails running behind the back of his arms, with faintly-visible embroidered glyphs streaking the edges of the clothing. It gave the pale-skinned Human, in this dark setting, a ghostly visage, piercing gold-ice eyes now turning upon Amare.
"Rise, Lady Amare," her lord said evenly, and he regarded her as she returned to her full height with intelligent, calculating eyes, his hands, and his mask between them, clasped together in front of him. "You are troubled, apprentice."
While impressed with Serus' new appearance fitting for an empowered man of lordly calibre, her discombobulation spawned from her inner thoughts took precedence.
"Yes..." Amare replied as she rose, a mild degree of weariness lacing her voice, "...your eyes are keen, master. Zenarrah is certainly my mother, but...I'm vexed with her for holding back what she knew of my past. We linked minds in the medbay and exchanged some of our strongest memories, and yet she held back and chose to tell you those things instead of me. I sense that she is hiding even more, and I think her truth-telling and saber training is all just a means to an end. I cannot help but wonder if she is trying to manipulate us...use us to fulfill some goal of hers."
"My master - my Jedi Master, Sotah," Serus clarified, his voice not betraying any upset or embarrassment at the mention of the Selkath, "once told me: you will not be punished for your anger. You will punished by it." He turned the mask slightly in his hand, examining it for a second as he considered both the object and the kernel of Jedi 'wisdom' he had parroted. "I am pleased that you do not simply accept what Madame Sozo chooses to present prima facie, Amare, and that you are considering the various possible purposes to her supposed verity. There is power in truth. I told your mother as such in our meeting."
The former Jedi now turned once again from his apprentice to face the window. As his gaze shifted, he noticed Bane's holocron glow dimly with a faint crimson light, which thrummed with unknown purpose in the presence of the galaxy two sole Sith. Serus was unsure if it was intentional, or simply a reaction.
"You know better than most how effectively one can deceive with fact and honest belief," he continued, admiring the chaotic volcanic miasma beyond the room's sole viewing port, unable even in the Force to predict the ebbs and flows of the traumatic wasteland outside. "Madame Sozo will have her goals and desires, and I do not doubt she allies herself with our interests to achieve these, or to perhaps shape us to her will. However, such games are not played alone, and we can effectively respond in like. A single lie discovered is enough to create doubt in every truth; at such point she reveals herself or expends her usefulness, you will have a decision to make." His voice then took on a more serious, official tone, and he spun around to face Amare once more. "But until then, like her, we must make deception our ally, if our dark enterprise is to be successful."
Amare assented to Serus' directive with a thoughtful nod. Stealth and trickery had saved her life more than once since her journey as a free woman began; to hide and move and strike at the right opportunity was fast becoming an art that was almost as easy as breathing.
"Your master may have been a Jedi," she commented, speaking the title as if it were a form of insult, "but his wisdom forged you into the man you once were, and from that, into the Dark Lord you are today. Through you, he shapes me as well. In a sense, this Sotah is the grandfather of your Sith Order. Enemy or not, I shall always respect him for that."
"Sotah taught me a great deal, and helped me discover many things about both the Force and myself," Serus replied, "but he is still a Jedi, confined in his own ways by a dogmatic and narrow view of the universe. We will use his wisdom to our benefit, even if he does not use for his own. However, whilst I derive great pleasure from waxing lyrical about such philosophies and take great pride in the characters we manifest, there is weight to my previous comments. To the galaxy, I am Thane of Caanus, rogue Jedi Knight and last scion of the ruling House of Verus. An idealist and a man of conviction. There is both power and vulnerability in that identity."
The nascent Sith warrior stood aside from the window, and invited Amare to stand beside him. "To you, and the truth of who I am, is Lord Serus, Sith Master and hunter of the Cult of Axion." He then drew the mask he had been holding up and placed it carefully onto his face, and raised the hood of his robes over his head. The metal facade had two spaces for the eyes hollowed out, although they appeared have replaced Serus' glinting eyes with dark voids, and its angular design split beneath the bottom of the nose, leaving a wide gap with two prongs stretching down towards the Sith Lord's now concealed chin and throat. Its appearance was not unlike a noseless, elongated skull, macabre and harrowing to unsuspecting.
"Whilst these personas are not mutually exclusive," Serus continued speaking, but his voice had now taken a deeper timbre, a slight papery rasping sound accenting some of the young Human's words, the dark side creeping into Serus' inflections, "they cannot yet inhabit the same spheres of influence; the Jedi would tirelessly hunt an emergent Sith Lord and his apprentice, whilst Thane is too recognisable to appropriately pluck at the webs that tie the dark places of this galaxy together. For now, Serus and Amare must operate within the shadows, unseen but ever-present menaces, lurking and influencing from beyond the reach of those the walk within the light of the stars. Do not yet be so ready to discard Zaracoda Wolph. Young and impressionable, she can yet serve a purpose, able to tread where Lady Amare would find only enemies and sharp blades."
Out on the plateau near the lake of fire, when Serus anointed the young Nautolan as his Sith apprentice, Amare had seen a vision with a metaphorical Coda being symbolically cast into the lava below. However, her Coda persona wasn't destroyed; it was merely culled, muzzled, and assimilated. Unwilling to let go of the past completely, Amare had caught her old personality from slipping away with the Force, embraced her former self, then mercilessly compartmentalized it. She who had been Coda was ruthlessly reduced to a collection of memories and talents enslaved to obey Amare's will. While her soul was slipping beyond any hope of redemption, her satisfaction was growing by the day as she felt her skills improve one small step at a time, and the Force gradually flowing through her with ever increasing ease.
"However, it is, in fact, Lady Amare's services that I will require." Serus stepped away from the window and walked towards the lone table in the room, pushed off to the side, although he did not remove the mask. Old, large metal chairs wrought of a dark, native Mustafarian metal were arrayed about it, but the Human did not claim one. Instead, he produced a small holoprojector from within his robes and placed it upon the table, activating an unseen switch. A shimmering blue holographic image sprung to life from the device of a middle-aged Human man with balding brown hair crowing his head. Tired but hopeful eyes punctuated the defeated expression of the kindly-looking man's features.
"This," Serus explained, "is Jove Gatill, Chief Executive Officer of Undervos Holdings, a comparatively small investment broker company that specialises in industrial production and management within the Outer and Mid Rims. You are going to assassinate him."
Amare gave the hologram a critical stare, unimpressed by what she saw. Unlike her distinguished master, Gatill had the kind of plain every-man's face that could easily blend into a crowd. A perfect example for the stereotype that all Humans looked alike. She wanted to ask why a typical overpaid c-level capitalist needed to die by her hand, but given all that had happened since Lorrd, she accepted it was likely yet another deadly test rather than a means to a specific goal.
"Forgive me, master," Amare said feeling more than a little uncertain how to venture into the fascinating world of crimson-coloured wetwork, "but I'm new to the assassination business. Is it like the holo-vid thrillers where you're supposed to put on a disguise and make it look like an accident?"
"If you so wish," he replied simply, waving a hand to both deactivate and summon the palm-sized projector at once. "You are a Sith apprentice; you have substantial freedom in how you achieve these goals and dispose of our foes, and it is not for me to provide you with the specifics on how to be victorious. However, there is no subterfuge on my part against you, and I will share with you all that I can regarding this matter to make the most informed choices."
Serus passed the projector to Amare, his eyes and expression invisible behind the metal mask. "Our benefactor in this matter came to my attention during my recent forays into the underworld. He is a Muun called Hesk Scivo, the financial officer for Undervos Holdings and an information broker in his own right. Scivo informed me that the shareholders of Undervos voted marginally in favour of a merger with Yaxley Galactic Solutions, a subsidiary of the GalactaWerks Corporation, that is entangled with all manner of unsavoury business, headed up by the unashamedly ambitious Miriam Yaxley, some Arkanian off-shoot. Until recently, her company had been considered a competitor of Undervos Holdings. Our friend Scivo has reservations about this arrangement; Yaxley is expected to be the GalactaWerks-sponsored senatorial candidate for the Lantillian sector, and is also accused by the Muun of consorting with Hutt types to produce a new type of synthetic spice. Highly addictive. Highly dangerous."
The Sith Lord produced a small vial with a bright purple substance contained within. He held it up in the fiery light from the window, the queerly-coloured granules within plainer to see. "This synthspice is part of some grander plot between GalactaWerks, the Hutts, and other unknown agencies, to corner a large portion of the underworld, control swathes of the Lesser Lantillian and Perlemian Trade Routes, and seemingly fund the would-be Senator Yaxley's campaign. Mister Scivo has no desire for this to happen - not with Yaxley heading it, anyway." Serus also passed the vial to his apprentice before he continued speaking. "Our Muun ally believes he will be able to influence his already-wary colleagues away from the deal if something unbecoming were to occur during the merger meeting, taking place at Undervos Holdings' factory on Sleheyron, thereby frustrating the GW plot, ending Yaxley's political dreams before they are realised, and earning us a new ally within the underworld. And, with the support of Lord Serus, Hesk Scivo should have little difficulty securing a new arrangement with the Hutt connection." The Human then waved a vaguely dismissive hand. "Yaxley can also be disposed of, or at least a token effort made to make it appear as such."
Serus had just thrown a bunch of names at Amare that meant little to her as she briefly pondered the synthspice. In spite of all the connections explained to her, she focused her mind on what mattered most: Hesk Scivo was the client, Jove Gatill was the primary takedown, and Yaxley was a secondary bonus kill if possible, but not required for success.
"I lost a close friend to this junk," Amare said with a grim expression. "She taught me the Ryl dialect of the Twi'leki language, and how to dance like her people. I couldn't believe someone so beautiful and smart could let themself give in to using spice, but I suppose everyone has their breaking point." She pocketed the vial thinking she would feed it Gatill to send a poetic message. "Did the client provide any info on the security at this meeting, or the layout of the factory?"
"Minimal details," Serus confirmed, electing for the moment to not enter into a discourse regarding the morality behind the trade and usage of narcotics. Once upon a time, the Jedi Knight Thane would have been appalled at the willingness he was now showing to interfere and control such a market; to the young Caanan, spice and its ilk were responsible for a great many of the ills plaguing the galaxy, reprehensible and unforgivable, absolute in his view. It funded terrorism and the criminal underworld. More, it destroyed families and spurred the vulnerable into terrible acts of cruelty and pain, empowering the malign and diminishing communities. It was despicable. Yet, here he now was, stood upon Mustafar, a corrupted youth stood before him, preparing to murder a humble businessman to sweep into that very dark enterprise.
Spice is for the weak, Serus seethed internally. Through the Sith, entropy would be mastered, its servants brought to heel.
"The projector contains all of the relevant information currently made available to us, including the backgrounds and political landscape I just described," he continued explaining to his apprentice, his tone indicating the conversation was reaching its conclusion. "You will travel independently. Use the name of Zaracoda when you do, under any occupation you deem appropriate. Hesk Scivo will meet you at a tapcafé called the Outer Whim, just outside of the main spacedock within Sleheyron's primary continent. He will provide you with more answers and insight, and perhaps more about the shadow clients pulling the strings in this affair."
Serus then decided to remove the metal mask, his pale but youthful face revealed once more, covered though it was by the shadow of his raised hood. His eyes shimmered within the darkness still, an unnatural ethereal glow encircling them. "I am trusting in your judgement in this matter, Lady Amare, which is not an invitation to failure. Your success could determine the influence and alliances of the Sith in that sector and beyond - our first steps into the morbid galactic games of power our foes so relish. Reveal your identity only should it serve a purpose, and dispose of those that could be our undoing. You are more powerful than you know, and I have faith that you will triumph."
No pressure, Amare sarcastically thought. "It shall be as you say, my master," she said with a bow of her head to Serus, putting on a brave face and confident tone for him, but deeply nervous about the whole thing. "May I ask a question before you dismiss me? About us?"
A dark eyebrow wavered upwards at the Nautolan's query. "Of course," he said, not unpleasantly, interested in what she had to say.
"If...when I am successful and return," the Nautolan began to ask, her appeal more to Thane than to Serus, "may I ask as a reward that we have some time alone together? Not as a Lord and his apprentice, but as friends? We have been traveling for months now, and I still don't feel like I know you all that well as a man. Thinking about you, wondering what kind of person you really are behind the titles and the Force...it helped keep me alive on Lorrd. You don't have to answer now, but if there is just one lesson I can take away from everything I've learned from you, it's that my feelings–and the relationships I have with the people around me–affects me...affects my abilities. I promise, I will never ask you such a favour ever again. I just...need this, just this once. Please."
Serus' eyes narrowed and dilated variously as he scrutinised both Amare and her request. It was true; their more jovial times with one another had been exceptionally limited, by both design and circumstance, the former Jedi noted. From their first introduction, he had been careful to not be too familiar with the woman, lest it interfere with her potential Sith training under him in the months that followed. At times, he had actually found it hard himself, having grown fond of Zaracoda during their time together, particularly when not espousing some dark philosophy or other.
There had been hints of the sort of genuine camaraderie and friendship they may have enjoyed more innocently on both Vaa and during their brief time together within the Mind Prison on Korriban, and he had had to admit to himself that he had enjoyed those glimpses of normality, even if he had largely dismissed them as petty indulgences, particularly unbecoming of the two Sith's goals. It was his desire that their relationship could eventually evolve into one more resembling a partnership, exerting their will with awesome might throughout the galaxy. Although that enthused and encouraged him, it did not carry the same hint of enticement of the promise their brief closeness on those two dark worlds had, and a part of him regretted that. It had been both confusing and difficult to dismiss the ambivalent feelings had experienced from the physical proximity, and the ease by which he fell into it, despite his usual reservations and limited experience with intimacy, during those occasions.
Even as these thoughts and troubled feelings rushed through his mind, he could feel the dark, humming presence of Darth Bane's holocron nearby, as if the fallen Dark Lord's tattooed eyes were judging the fallen Prince of Caanus with grim malevolence.
"I..." The Sith began to say, the glow of his eyes receding with the softening of his voice, although he momentarily seemed to struggle to find his words. "I would like that." One of the small half-smiles that had typified Thane's gentler expressions briefly threatened to tug at the corner of his mouth from within his cowl, but he did not completely surrender to it. "But, please, do not consider it a reward to spend time with me. Your companionship is... important to me, and it would be my pleasure." He held her gaze for a moment longer than usual, and whilst he considered it, he stopped short of placing a reassuring hand on her arm.
Instead, not waiting for any further reply or comment, the Human took himself away from Amare and settled himself back into the kneeling, meditative position he had been in prior to their meeting. A swell of power began being drawn into him again as he prepared to delve into the mystic currents of the volcanic world anew. "The Force is with you, Lady Amare."
"May it serve us well," the grateful apprentice calmly returned, her inner elation hidden under a cold stoic tone. For Amare, hiding her feelings from her voice and face was becoming her own kind of mask to wear. She had wanted to smile, but her facial muscles remained taut as Bane's holocron caught her eyes for a few seconds. She could feel its scrutinizing presence, the legendary device clearly active, its gatekeeper likely active and monitoring the exchange between the latest heirs of the Rule of Two.
Do not judge me, old man, Amare thought towards the domineering presence of Bane's preserved legacy as she bowed with graceful reverence to Serus and turned to leave.
I care deeply for him, but that does not make me compassionate...not anymore. He is a superior being who requires my service. I am akin to a cleric subordinate to a god. The Sith do not have to be evil or selfish like the lot of you in the grave. He has given me purpose and his trust. I must obey him without fail, yet I know he is just a man, and I am the closest to a woman he has. Through my deeds, I will empower his spirit to carry on for the greater good. This is what the Force intended. This is the way.
As she exited the room, she breathed in the smoky Mustafarian air and allowed herself a very brief moment of contentment as she gazed into the dark peerless sky upon stepping out onto the outdoor platform of the mining facility. The view was breathtaking as the platform was overlooking a great river of lava stretching out in both directions as far as the Nautolan eye could see.
Oh, yes, I will hurt others for him, she thought with narrowed eyes and dogged determination. I will kill for him. I will do what I must for him and for the cause. I have done so before, and I can do it again, but it does not define who we are as Sith. We can feel, we can dream, and we can love. We don't have to always be focused entirely on Sith business, or be at each other's throats, constantly in fear of one attacking the other over a dead man's ideals. My master's dream, his ambition, his intellect, his power...he will surpass all of you, and I wish to surpass even him if I can. We will not succumb to the 'rancour and megalomania' that drove our kind to defeat in the past. But...if it should happen, if the dark side gets the better of us and turns us into mad twisted fools, then I can only hope our deaths will be swift and shameful, for then we have failed and achieved nothing. If this happens to my master before it happens to me...I will find a way to destroy him, and carry on the dream of a more evolved Sith Order.
We must learn to control the dark side, not let it control us.
TBC
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