Dark business

Ganumedis felt as if he ran into a wall – if that wall would be moving at high speed towards him and, worse, would be invisible. As he struggled to get some air into his lungs and get up from the stain-ridden pavement, a figure emerged from the shadows and loomed over him.

A shock went through him, followed by a desperate fear, as Ganumedis recognized the man.

Count Dooku.

“So that’s what the infamous Ganumedis Moonshade looks like when he’s slammed to the floor by the Force,” Dooku spoke, his dark timbre filling the narrow, deserted street. “Do you realize who you’ve just killed?”

Ganumedis had trouble formulating his reply. “What – I never – killed?!”

“I know you’re supposed to pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about, that you don’t know anyone had been killed, and that you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Dooku said impatiently, “but really. Did you think you could deceive me?”

Managing to stand up, ready to make a run for it if an opportunity presented itself, Ganumedis slowly recovered his wits. “Certainly I did not wish to deceive the esteemed lord Dooku. I had no idea my target would be of any importance to such a great man as yourself.”

“She was not,” Dooku said offhandedly, “but our scheduled meeting was supposed to get me close to that annoying Skywalker kid.”

“I humbly apologize, my lord,” Ganumedis said with a bow. He hated the next part. “If there is some way I can recompensate you for this...”

Dooku frowned and narrowed his eyes. “What do you suggest?”

“Well... A man of my profession may be able to attend to certain matters that the leader of the Seperatists is too busy to deal with. Cleaning up the trash, so to speak.” He looked up expectantly. Ganumedis had tried to avoid getting caught up with politics, but this might just work out better than he had expected. Perhaps he could become the Dark Lord’s personal assassin.

Count Dooku paused for a moment, and said, “I accept your offer. This is what I want you to do...”

***

Killing Jedi is not hard, Ganumedis thought while searching for his target. It’s just a matter of disrupting their tranquility by randomly killing their companions. And of course, staying very, very far away from their cursed lightsabers.

Using the enhanced telescopic sight on his sniper rifle, the assassin quickly found his target. General Skywalker and his Togruta apprentice appeared to be discussing their assault strategies with the commanders of their clone troops.

Ganumedis was impressed by the qualities of his newly acquired rifle. Count Dooku must have realized his skills and had gladly donated the sophisticated weapon to the assassin, after an easy job to assess his abilities and trustworthiness. It was the weapon Ganumedis Moonshade had been working for these last years – and now it was his as a gift.

No more struggling for credits, he thought joyfully. This job is so much better than being a hitman for lowly thugs. This will be the day that my career finally takes off. I just might become more infamous than creepy Aurra Sing.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, thought Ganumedis. First I have to complete my current assignment. To kill Commander Skywalker – the Hero With No Fear.

Remembering his own advice, he pointed the crosshair of his sniper telescope at the clone commander that stood next to Skywalker and Tano. Like some of the other troopers, the commander had his helm under his arm and appeared to be joking with the two Jedi.

The crosshair closed over the forehead of the clone soldier. Ganumedis’ finger trembled only slightly as he held it against the trigger.

In his head, he replayed his plan; first the clone, then the apprentice, and when the emotions explode within him, the assassin would kill Skywalker.

Steadying his breathing and his trembling finger, Ganumedis relaxed and enjoyed the quiet moments before the slaughter.

Now, he thought.

A boot kicked Ganumedis’ face hard before he could pull the trigger. The assassin fell sidewards, reeling with the impact, and the telescope buried itself in his eye. Pain shot through him and he screamed.

“That was not necessary, soldier,” a stern male voice said with a hint of amusement. Opening his eyes – one of them seeing only flashes of white – Ganumedis instantly recognized the man as General Kenobi. He was surrounded by a squad of clone troopers, weapons pointed at the terrified would-be killer.

“Sorry, General,” said the clone soldier next to the overwhelmed Ganumedis. “I figured that blasting the cursed bastard through the head would have been worse.”

“True,” replied the famous Jedi.

“I’m so glad you’ve stopped me,” Ganumedis lied, trembling. “Count Dooku forced me to try and kill General Skywalker. I swear I tried to resist, but what can a man of my limited skills do when confronted by a Jedi? Particularly when he threatened to kill my family...” He didn’t know if it would work, but he was willing to go far to save his own skin.

And besides, the Republic would at least keep him alive. He wasn’t so sure about Dooku.

“What family?” another voice came from the other side. “You mean the poor parents you killed barehandedly?” Ganumedis was surprised to see General Skywalker himself walk into the circle of soldiers. How could he have gotten here this quickly?

A coldness filled his heart. Dooku set me up, he realized. But why –

All other thoughts left him, for the explosives hidden in the advanced sniper rifle that Dooku had given him, detonated at that instant. Ganumedis Moonshade, the assassin with more skill in reputation than in actual killing, was disintegrated on the spot.

Some distance away, Asajj Ventress grimaced. She let the remote control fall to the floor. It was hard to see through the smoke, but it appeared the explosion had killed only the annoying killer and one or two clones. Skywalker and Kenobi appeared unharmed.

Next time, she promised.

With a sigh, the bald Dark Jedi fired up the engines of her starfighter and flew away.

Your attention please...

May I point you, dear reader, to a wonderful piece of short fiction by a fellow blogger?

The delightfully eloquent Qui-Gon Reborn (shame about the name, though...) has written "The Event", which can be found here. I am impressed, and I'm pretty sure you will be, too.

Be sure to let her know what you think of it.

A Faithful Droid's Demise

TD-19 was a simple protocol droid, or at least that was what it liked to call itself. In truth, its owner had programmed some assassination protocols into its system, thus upgrading TD-19 to a protocol droid slash assassin droid slash bodyguard. Its behavior core had not been modified to accept these changes, however, and it found itself trying to ignore its potential for violence.

Unless, of course, certain situations prompted the protocols. In those instances the normal protocol routines were overridden and Teedee -- as its master sometimes called the droid -- found itself voicing threatening language and periodically damaging organic beings who unwisely ignored its warnings. It found itself making apologies for its violence afterwards, which did not make any difference because mostly the organic beings were by then very much unable to do anything.

It often wondered why organics could not be repaired after being torn into pieces.

Right now, a female organic was trying to gain entry into the room Teedee guarded the door for. Its instructions were clear, however; no-one was to enter the room until its master told it otherwise.

"Please step aside," the woman repeated, "so I can enter."

Obviously she had not been informed of this order, so Teedee shared the information. "Negative. All access to this room is forbidden at this point." When it realised she would not be on her way, it added, "please wait for guards to detain you."

It silently attempted to establish a connection to the Senate main computer, but there seemed to be no answer. It would try again in 30 seconds.

"Look, I really --"

She did not give up, despite Teedee's very clear explanation. Perhaps a warning was in place.

"Repeat: Please wait for guards to detain you. If you resist detention, you will be painfully and bloodily executed." Shocked by its own words -- as much as any droid could experience being 'shocked' -- Teedee wondered just how much those assassination protocols had influence over its standard programming.

Thankfully, its words seemed to have their effect on the trespassing human, for she appeared to be hesitating. Teedee tried to avoid violence whenever possible, for each conflict was potentially threatening to its functionality. Not that such a thing had ever happened.

Main computer still did not reply. Perhaps the transmitter was broken? System check revealed a non-functional transmitter -- in fact, it was not there. It must have been removed during the last routine maintenance, earlier today. As soon as its master arrived, Teedee would inform him of the missing component.

The woman seemed to come to a decision, and reached for something. Teedee's scanners identified it as a lightsaber. The information Teedee had on this weapon stated clearly that its wielders were either Jedi or Sith, and were extremely dangerous.

Teedee's assassination protocols took over at this point, although the protocol functionality insisted on warning the human of the risk she took.

"Repeat: If you resist detention, you will be executed."

Unphased, the woman uttered, "yeah yeah, I know. Try me," and attempted to damage the droid's head with her weapon and missed. Teedee had anticipated her move, being on full battle mode now, and easily stepped away from the blade while producing its own weapons. It immediately fired a round with its fully loaded DC-15S and DC-17m blasters, which the human had trouble deflecting in the narrow hallway.

"Perceived hostility. Painful and bloody execution is imminent," the droid heard itself say. Who had created those protocols? Why did Teedee have to imply the nature of the already uncomfortable execution?

Protocol dictated that Teedee alerted the main computer, realising only microseconds later that it could not.

Calculating the best strategy for immobilising its enemy, Teedee ventured closer. Having no mechanic reflexes, the human was slower to react to hostilities. Also, her defence seemed to be slightly vulnerable on the left side. Teedee planned to make a faint to her right, then aim at her left foot with its other blaster.

Teedee had barely begun shooting before the woman had deflected its shots. She appeared to have become much quicker than before, becoming a blur of motion that Teedee could barely follow with its droid sensors.

One of the deflected shots found its way to a photoreceptor, and Teedee had only half the visual information. This had an immediate effect on its aim, and only after several microseconds did the droid aim correctly at the human again.

However, the woman was closer than it has estimated and rather quickly, Teedee's sight was taken entirely. Elsewhere in its circuitry, the left arm ceased to provide input.

Its head and arm were gone.

"Perceived criminal action," Teedee found itself saying; "damaging a government-owned droid." Quickly Teedee ran a check through its files on intergalactic law and the respective punishments for each offence. "Penalty: Compensation through loss of offender's comparable parts."

It tried to hit the woman's arm, but with no visual information, the effort was useless. "Please wait while your left arm and your head are removed, then wait for guards to detain--"

The voice modulator was damaged suddenly. Alarms went off as various circuits stopped replying. Connections were lost with the right arm, the left foot, the left leg -- the signal that informed Teedee it had fallen to the side was just one of many alarms as the droid lost control of one system after another.

Belatedly, it realised that the only one who could have removed its transmitter was its master. He must have planned something like this to happen, although for what purpose Teedee did not know.

Teedee did not want to disobey its orders, though, so it kept trying to fight--

Suddenly, the military protocols were inactive. The only part of the droid that still had any sense, the protocol part, realised its only chance was to move away from the rampaging human. It did not, however, realise that the direction it chose for retreat was, in fact, right towards the woman.

A crush of her boot destroyed the last piece of circuitry, and TD-19 was no more.

Check this out

Click here; this is a really funny fanfic you should read. Various messages on Luke Skywalker's answering machine.

Seduction

The droid stood between her and the door, unmoved by her request. It was not letting her in.

"Please step aside, so I can enter."

"Negative. All access to this room is forbidden at this point. Please wait for guards to detain you."

Derra cursed silently. To get this far, only to be stopped by a stupid droid. Surely there must be a way to persuade it?

“Look, I really…”

“Repeat: Please wait for guards to detain you,” the droid interrupted her. “If you resist detention, you will be painfully and bloodily executed.”

Stunned into silence, Derra looked at the seemingly simple droid with horrid fascination. What kind of droid was this? It looked like a protocol droid, but its battered plating and rusty patches suggested experiences beyond the shelter of the Senate building. She did not recognize the production series, nor did she ever hear a droid speak in such remarkable expressions.

Destroy it, came a voice in her head. Any moment, Derra expected to see the red robes of the Senate Guard coming for her. This piece of soon-to-be scrap metal stood in her way. She ignited her yellow lightsaber.

“Repeat: If you resist detention, you will be executed.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Try me,” Derra said casually while taking a swing at the droid.

To her amazement, the droid easily stepped away from the blade and produced two firearms from apparently nowhere.

“Perceived hostility. Painful and bloody execution is imminent,” its lifeless voice said, and rapidly loosened several shot. Derra could hardly reflect them in the narrow hallway and she tumbled backwards. Getting back on her feet, she used the Force to sense her opponents moves rather than her eyes. It moved closer, weapons ready.

Now that the initial shock had passed, Derra could focus on avoiding getting shot and attempting to hit her metal foe. Speed is something Derra excelled at, being nicknamed Blur more than once, and soon one of the droid’s arms was on the floor, along with its head.

However, a droid is different from an organic opponent, and this one simply kept on fighting and taunting without a head. It unnerved her.

“Perceived criminal action: Damaging a government-owned droid. Penalty: Compensation through loss of offender’s comparable parts. Please wait while your left arm and your head are removed, then wait for guards to detain--”

The droid’s voice stopped abruptly as Derra’s lightsaber damaged its voice modulator and continued to increase the number of parts the droid consisted of. At last, nothing moved except for a tiny piston, causing an unrecognizable piece of machinery the size of her fist to erratically move towards her. She crushed it with her foot.

You have done well, the familiar voice said. Enter, and meet your destiny…

*****

Derra had first heard the voice when she was but a young apprentice, unable to sleep in her quarters within the Jedi Temple.

Earlier that day she had gotten into a mild argument with one of the teachers over the need for lightsaber training. If the Jedi advocated peace, why should they skill themselves with instruments of war? Thinking it over in bed and being stressed about being unable to incorporate both views into a logical whole, a voice in her head said, it’s good to be critical.

At first she thought someone had snuck into her room and whispered in her ear, but after a quick inspection assured her there was nobody there, she figured it must have been her imagination and tried to fall asleep.

Doubt is essential for gaining knowledge, the voice came again, this time clearly.

“Who’s there?”, Derra exclaimed, getting scared. She looked around the otherwise empty room.

No answer came then, and none ever did.

*****

Get down, the voice warned Derra, and she quickly obliged, hiding behind a large statue. Several imposing figures, dressed in white durasteel armor, moved by her without notice. At second glance, she recognized them as clonetroopers. What were they doing at the Temple?

Mere moments later, the clonetroopers started firing at everyone in sight; Jedi Masters and Padawans alike. In their midst, a fury of lightsaber moves and dark side energy, a dark hooded figure came down on the overwhelmed Jedi.

Derra’s heart appeared to stop beating. Anakin Skywalker?

Anger rushed up in her, and she got ready to ignite her blade and place it somewhere in his arrogant face, when the voice stopped her. Don’t, it simply said. Another destiny awaits you.

The mysterious voice, which had guided Derra through many situations and seemed to possess knowledge of things even beyond the Jedi Master’s, started guiding her out of the Temple and into Coruscant’s busy streets.

Looking back after a careful and long journey, she saw the Temple for the last time. Clouds of smoke rose from several places, and explosions were heard even at this distance. Derra softly swore that she would avenge the destruction.

Yes, you will avenge. But not yet. I have a quest for you.

“No fraggin’way,” Derra replied. “I’m not going on a pitiful quest when my world is burning.”

Hardly your world anymore. Besides, there is not much to return to, and your potential needs room to grow if you want to face the renegade and be victorious.

Through many days and many nights, the voice guided her. At times chastising weaknesses and at other times complimenting her ingenuity, it seemed to train her for an unknown future. When asking about it, Derra received no answer.

It never seemed to give answers.

In the end, after what seemed several months or years, the voice guided her here, to the Senate Building, and the chamber guarded by the droid with the oddly explicit language, now in pieces in front of the private quarters of the self-appointed Emperor.

*****

The chamber was dark. Infrequently, a speeder illuminated the room as its lights passed the large window on the busy Coruscant night.

Derra had never been here, but she somehow recognized it. The strange statues and plaques that decorated the place seemed familiar, and made her feel both comforted and deeply disturbed.

She turned her attention to the statue right in front of her, in the center of the oval room. It represented some sort of hooded humanoid creature, an unfamiliar expression on its face. Around its chiseled shoulders hung a black robe, soft yet sturdy to her touch. At its feet lay a durasteel helmet and armor, similar to the red Senate Guard’s attire, but black as night.

“Try them on,” the voice said, and Derra realized that this time, it was spoken out loud. She turned around and gazed upon an imposing figure, seated on one of the large and comfortable chairs. His face was sickly white and deformed; his body and black robe blending with the darkness.

The dark side emanated from him for a moment, and she recoiled in horror. In an instant, though, the feeling disappeared and she could not detect even the smallest bit of the Force around him.

“In order to extract your revenge on the renegade Jedi murderer, you must be strong,” the Emperor said, never averting his eyes from hers. “Strong, and silent. This murderer is but one of many who will try to destroy you. To destroy us. Skywalker, and his mentor Kenobi, have escaped our grasp for now, but they will return. You must be ready,” he repeated.

Silently, he gestured at the armor at her feet. She donned it.

The armor was not uncomfortable, and unobtrusive to her movements while the robe hid her movements. The dark color meant that she could pass nearly undetected in shadowy places, while the red visor enhanced her vision.

She looked like a Red Guard, if not for the black color.

“I offer you a chance,” the Emperor said close to her ear. Derra startled; she had not noticed him getting up.

“A chance to move undetected in the Imperial ranks, to seek out those hidden in the shadows with murderous intents. To smoke out the betraying rebels. To extract our revenge.”

He smiled, and offered her a seemingly simple black cane. As she took it, she noticed the switch and turned it on. A brilliant red flash appeared at the top of the cane.

A lightsaber staff.

“I offer you a chance to be my secret weapon. My only hope against attempts on my life, like they have taken the lives of the Jedi in the Temple.”

Derra looked into his yellowish eyes, seeing her reflection in them. An imposing dark figure she was. She felt important; something she had never felt before.

He whispered, “Derra, be my Shadow Guard.”

She accepted with a smile.

Light in the darkness

Brog switched off his lightsaber, and mercyful darkness surrounded him. How did it come to this, he wondered?

The blackness could not stop the images from forming in his mind; the bright lights of lightsabers dancing, illuminating this very hall in which he now stood in gloomy greens and blues and reds, until one after the other, the lights were extinguised as its wielders fell -- until the only light that shone was Brog's scarlet blade.

They had been his former classmates and teachers; Jedi he had known from early childhood. He had never truly hated them, and their demise pained him greatly. This was not what he had wanted.

Brog, like many before him, had become sceptical of the Jedi ways. The dark seemed to offer him the chances for personal growth and fulfillment he had longed for. A Sith had introduced him to many a secret of the Force, and Brog had revelled in it.

Of course, with the Sith teachings came the endless torment of body and mind; a way to hone him into perceived perfection. Sith do not fear pain; they use it. Rather than being a slave to the will of microscopic lifeforms, the Sith use the Force as a tool to shape themselves to full potential.

Although the confrontation with his former masters and fellow padawans was inevitable, Brog had not expected it. Or perhaps he had tried to ignore it, stubbornly hoping it would never come if he did not think about it.

He still had much to learn.

Switching it on again, Brog inspected his lightsaber. The slim black handle was without a scratch; the blade a pure red line in the otherwise colorless chamber. His imagination drew patches of flesh and gore on the blade, and he felt his stomach turn. Suddenly trembling, he looked away from the saber, at the bodies on the floor. Lifeless. Charred. Betrayed. Murdered.

What a fool he was. As if the dark side was nothing more than a change of heart, with no influence on the rest of life. Instead of perfecting him, it had make him arrogant and weak; only a master of evil. The dark side had changed him into something he despised more than anything -- an empty shell; a Sith's puppet.

He realized he was standing at a crossroad: to take the easy route, or to take the right route. The choice was clear to him now.

With fresh determination, Brog left the room, blade ready, to confront his master.

A Jedi Lost

A man approached, his slow footsteps announcing his coming.

“Go away,” I said, without opening my eyes. “I’m becoming one with the Force.”

Did I sound mad? Good.

“My presence will not impede on the process, I assure you,” the stranger said with a deep, smooth voice.

“Have you been sent here to persuade me? Because you’ll be disappointed.”

He chuckled. “Far from it, Master Jedi. I was sent to kill you.”

“I don’t think I’ll need your help, thank you very much.” I hoped my words had the sound of nonchalance I did not feel.

“So it seems,” he replied dryly. “Mind if I join you?”

Polite as though his words were, he did not wait for an answer and sat down next to me on the ruin’s edge. Reluctantly I opened my eyes, blinking at the gloomy daylight, and beheld his face.

He’s handsome, I thought.

Why did that surprise me? What did I expect? Some hideous monster; a raving lunatic with a lump? The Dark Side is not a bodily infliction, after all. Yet for all my studies, I was not prepared to behold a real, living Sith Lord.

He was about the same age as me; a tall, muscular man, nearing the end of his prime. His skin was the colour of hot chocolate, a beautiful dark brown; features strong, yet gentle and open. His bald head was remarkably expressive and friendly; his broad smile charming and friendly. The stranger’s brown eyes, however, seemed oddly cold. Was there a burden behind those eyes, hidden behind a smile and good manners?

His black attire, a shape-hugging tunic partly covered by a long robe and hood, was remarkably similar to a Jedi’s. Strong hands lay open on his lap; he tried to make me feel comfortable, which strangely seemed to work. He smiled at me and met my eyes. I had to look away.

His words were like crystals; sparkling yet hard.

“I can’t say you’re making it hard on me, man. But as much as I fear disobeying my Master’s orders, I do not intend to kill you. You intrigue me.” His gaze followed mine across the valley and he sighed. “When you left it must’ve been a great loss for the Jedi Order.”

“Not that great a loss, I imagine,” I replied, shrugging. “I’ve now joined the ranks of the legendary Lost Jedi. A dubious honour. ‘Jac Eebra, previously a venerable Jedi Master, has sadly left the Order in search of his awaiting destiny,’ that’s what a Council representative said on Holonet. It was just a tiny announcement between the celebrity gossips. Sad, really. But as for how or why, I’m not telling you.”

“So be it.” Instead of expanding on the subject, he remained quiet. Possibly he thought I would start explaining if the silence grew, but I was not particularly inclined to. Instead I kept my gaze on the endless ruins in the Valley of the Dark Lords around us and thought about how this man could entrance me so. Must be the seduction of the Dark Side, which was terribly strong here on Korriban.

Yet the attraction I felt could not be denied; real or Force-fuelled, there was a soft warmth inside me when he, at last, turned towards me again and whispered conspiratorially in my ear,
“What is it that you want, boy? Really want? Truth? Love?”

“Do not mistake me for some naïve padawan,” I replied, trying to sound offended. Why did he call me ‘boy’? “Save your critique on the Jedi for the ignorant and wronged. I have no trouble with the Order or its principles.”

“If so, why did you leave?”

Curse his insight. “Personal differences.”

“Ah. Of course.” He smiled; a sly little grin. “Differences in opinions on how best to be a Jedi, I’m sure. I know you used to be something of a philosopher, pondering the Force and its ways. My guess would be that while studying and philosophizing, you realized you were not doing what you were supposed to be doing. You realized you were raised without questioning your standards, and you started to do so.”

I shook my head, smiling. “You are asking for my reasons, and I already told you I’m not telling.”

“Very well,” he said. “But whatever the reason, I want you to consider this: now that you no longer are a part of the Jedi Order, are you willing to look into other ways to use the Force?”

“You’re asking me how I feel about joining the Sith?” I asked, incredulous. I could not believe he was asking me, just like that. Somehow I had always imagined that Sith Lords tricked people into joining them. Apparently I was wrong.

“Actually, I did not say that. But I was getting there.”

I looked at him. He looked so very attractive.

“I –,” I started, and looked away. “I’m afraid I don’t feel much either way.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Pardon me?”

I sighed. Get this over with, then. “Several years ago, a padawan turned to the Dark Side. I killed him, but only after he had killed his master.”

He nodded, but remained silent.

“After the incident, I searched my feelings, but found none. At first, I thought I had found peace in their fates, but gradually, I realized it wasn’t quite like that. In fact, I couldn’t remember a time when I did have any emotions. No mourning, no anger, no jealousy – no love.” I looked up at him. “The Order raises us to have no attachments, but also no emotions. There was an emptiness inside me that was destroying me.”

“That’s when you decided to leave the Order.”

“Actually, it took me more than three standard years to figure it out, but by then I had made up my mind and not even the Council could talk me out of it.”

“Every child eventually leaves his parents’ house to make a home for himself,” the dark stranger said, and somehow his words were exactly what I needed to hear. Understanding. “To be Sith is to be living a full life, unbound by the silly chains those around us wish to force onto us. How can such a life be any lower than a life of servitude to an ancient Order without roots in reality?” He looked at me and almost whispered. “Not unlike the Jedi, the Sith live by a credo: Peace is a lie; there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”

I looked at him, and the Sith, with new eyes. A full life, without other people telling me what to do – and all it took was passion. The thought was quite hopeful.

He went on. “I seem to find myself in a similar position as you were in. You see, I am my Master’s apprentice only in name; he has taught me everything. Therefore he has sent me to kill you, so I can become a true Sith Lord. However, he and I both know it does not work that way. My true task, if I am to become a Master, is to kill him.” A rueful smile. “Through victory, my chains are broken.”

I was speechless. Did this man just admit his desire to kill a man?

“My Master, Darth Hssiss, has sent two bounty hunters after us; surely you must’ve felt their presence by now. They’re probably instructed to kill us as soon as we leave this spot.”

I did sense two individuals, just out of reach of any ordinary senses, lurking in the shadows. What intrigued me more, though, was the name of the stranger’s Master; this Darth Hssiss. This was getting more interesting by the minute.

“So what does this have to do with me,” I asked casually. “I mean, are you asking me to distract those bounty hunters or anything?”

I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“You’d be my apprentice.”

I grinned. “I don’t suppose I can think about it for a couple of days?”


The dream, though each time subtly different, always followed a certain pattern. From the shadows of a dead empire, a great black one-eyed beast emerged, filled with hatred and anger. The beast was a dark side dragon, commonly known as hssiss, and it was strong with the Dark Side of the Force. Every time I slept, I dreamed of facing off with the beast, but every time, neither of us won or lost.

An eternal, nocturnal struggle.



For several long years had I asked Jedi Masters for an explanation of this dream, and the answers were always the same: Train yourself to let go of those you fear to lose; be prepared to face the darkness in yourself. Gradually, I realized I would not find answers amongst those who looked to the past rather than to the present or the future for wisdom.

I had committed the dream to my own ruthless logic, and dissected it into smaller, understandable parts. I found out that the fear I felt upon waking was 63% fear of dying, 3% fear for those around me, 5% fear of the Dark Side, and 29% fear of the unknown. Approximately.

The fear of dying was, in essence, a denial of the very teachings of the Jedi – there is no death, only the Force. However, it would not go away. The fear of the unknown, on the other hand, could be faced. After years of considering, it was a logical step to confront this fear by leaving the Jedi.

Dissecting the dream had felt good; the dark realm of night would not stand against the brightness of cold, hard logic. But yet, I felt something was just beyond my grasp; as if I was trying to catch smoke with my bare hands…

Days after leaving the Order, I decided to go to Korriban. Hssiss were common on several planets, but for some reason Korriban felt right. The fact that it was home to the ruins of the ancient Sith Empire seemed to enhance that feeling – a monument to a grand rebellion against the arrogant Jedi Order.



Fooling two simpleminded bounty hunters was easy even for a padawan, but my new companion showed me how to do it like a Sith; he used something akin to a mind trick to let one fear the dark. On Korriban, where the sun was about to set and shadows grew longer, there were dark places everywhere. It was mildly amusing to hear his terrified screams in the distance.

In an attempt to gain the Sith’s trust, I used the Force to increase the other bounty hunter’s blood pressure until he fainted. My newly acquired Master, who went by the name of Darth Nyx, seemed pleased with my achievement. Unbeknownst to him, I made sure the victim’s blood pressure would drop soon after we left.

This Lord Hssiss, I pondered, had to have something to do with the dreams I’d been having for the last five years or so. It was entirely possible that he was even the Sith Lord that had lured Li, the padawan, to the Dark Side, but those thoughts I kept to myself. For now it was best to let Nyx think that I was doing this for him and me alone.



Getting to the place where Darth Hssiss waited for the return of either his apprentice or the bounty hunters required a long and hazardous walk through and over many ruins of the old Sith dynasty. It was a slow journey and Darth Nyx and I spoke only when we did not need to concentrate much.

He told me about the Force and how the Dark Side had given him so much, but at a terrible prize. For every scrap of knowledge, his Master had made him suffer. “He always said it was better to learn something first hand, to realize the power of what you’re doing. Many nights I spent in agony, building the power I now possess.” He shook his head, his eyes cast down as he seemed to remember far too much of it. “It was necessary, yet now abundant.”

Before he could tell me more, Nyx pointed towards the second largest building in sight and said, “That’s the place.” It was a largely intact structure, built into the rocky mountain wall, with two massive statues in front of it; one an apparent Sith warrior, the other damaged beyond recognition. Their shadows fell over the entrance of the enormous building; a ridiculously large gate with damaged decorations of frightening beasts and muscular warriors. The decorations on the structure had largely been eroded away by the elements, but the building itself was on of the few to have weathered the centuries. Inside we went.

We walked in silence through a maze of dark corridors and empty halls, the sound of our echoed footsteps moving along with us, until at last we reached a grand hall. It was dimly illuminated by the last rays of the sun through slits in the high ceiling. There, in between two enormous pillars, stood a simple chair and some basic equipment making up a makeshift camp. In front of the chair stood a thin, black clad figure. Nyx and I approached him cautiously.

Lord Hssiss was a pale old man with piercing red eyes – no, eye; his face had a scar where once his left eye had been. The scar was almost as white as his skin, indicating that it was an old injury. Perhaps the padawan had done some damage before his turning, I thought with grim satisfaction.

It took me several moments to notice that, in fact, most of the Sith Lord’s left arm was missing, too. He used the Force to grip his lightsaber hilt and simultaneously mimic the shape of an arm inside the sleeve of his robe.

“You foolish little sand sloth,” the old dragon hissed. “How dare you return with your target unharmed?”

His words, enhanced by a strong hatred conveyed through the Force, were like poison running through my veins. This was a Sith like the Jedi had spoken of; a twisted mind of death and destruction. The meaning of my dreams became clear instantly; this was the opponent I must face.

“I return with a prize beyond your comprehension, my Master,” Nyx spoke, emphasizing the last words with dripping sarcasm. “The future of the Sith have I brought.”

Apart from smiling the tiniest of smiles, Lord Hssiss did not move. “The future looks rather boring, I must say. Please tell me you’re not considering this bantha fodder worthy of the Sith legacy.”

“I am,” Nyx said, and for some reason I felt proud. I hadn’t felt like that for years. It was a good feeling, unrestricted by Jedi rules. How could I have believed those silly rules for so long? Ridiculous chains, they were just holding me back.

“Doom on us all, then.” The old Sith Lord moved before the words had crossed his lips. Despite his old and stiff appearance, he moved swiftly and efficiently. I barely had time to switch on my lightsaber before his first strike came.

This was going to be more difficult than I had hoped for.



The Hssiss made quick movements, trying to force an opening in my defences. His fangs and claws came from all sides and all dimension – the Force itself seemed against me as all my usual grace fell to the dusty floor. Teeth gritted, I fought the war I had waged for countless nights. This time, though, a radiant darkness fought at my side, whispering.

“Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”



The fight was long; Lord Hssiss was very skilled with a lightsaber. His technique was excellent, and his constant attacks through the Force were very unsettling. We fought at equal levels, and rather than letting the Force dictate my moves, I learned how to direct it myself.

Eventually, Nyx and I gained the upper hand. My new Master whispered instructions, making me strong with the Dark Side. Thoughts about defeating the entire Sith Order were pushed aside, so as to better achieve the power required to defeat the evil Sith Lord. With every blow, I gained strength; with every bit of hatred, I gained ground on the old man.

I’m winning.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, a blinding pain shot through my legs. I found myself on the dusty floors with my eyes closed, screaming in agony. My legs were gone!

“You have fought well, my apprentice,” Darth Nyx spoke gently.

Fought well? I bloody lost my legs!

“Thank you, Master,” Lord Hssiss replied. Master? Through blinding pain and overwhelming confusion, I struggled to look up and saw the two Sith Lords kissing each other’s lips. What twisted pair is this?

Nyx looked down at me, the sympathy in his eyes replaced by cold hatred. “It seems you do feel emotions, boy. And your wish of becoming one with the Force will be granted.” He faced his apprentice once more, kissed him, and spoke, “His death will be only the beginning. The Sith will become so powerful that no-one will ever be able to stop us.” His gaze swung back to me, hatred and anger giving his eyes a crazed fire. “Your precious Jedi, along with the corrupted Republic, will fall!”

“Wait,” I screamed, “I thought you said you wouldn’t kill me!”

Nyx grinned coldly. “Hardly a promise. But I won’t kill you, boy. That honour falls to my apprentice – my real apprentice.”

A savagely grinning Lord Hssiss stepped forward, raising his scarlet lightsaber high above his head.



The great beast loomed over me, bloodlust in his red eye. His claw came down, blinding me with pain and anguish. “Deception is the way of the Sith,” the shadow whispered. “Peace is a lie. Through victory, his chains are broken. The Force will free you both.”

The Force seemed to wrap my conscience into itself; a safe haven, pain barely detectable. It whispered wordlessly to me, urging to let go; to become one with that great current of all living things. I smiled; a thing I was not even sure was physical. Emotions had come to me, after all. In their own twisted way, the Sith had done the will of the Force and had set me free.

One last tug of the Force and everything else fell away. I was free.


**

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