Private A Master's Vitals

[Mazhara Vanthex]

MAZHARA VANTHEX
Darth Nebulous’ private quarters
Nurse’s uniform

There were vulnerabilities that a Sith could permit the galaxy to see. This was not one of them. Mazhara stood beside her Master's bed, the soft electronic rhythm of medical equipment filling the otherwise quiet chamber. The white and crimson uniform she wore was markedly different from her usual attire, but there was nothing theatrical about it. Her hair had been drawn back, gloves covered her hands, and a stethoscope rested around her neck alongside the other tools she had gathered for the task.

Darth Nebulous was powerful. Mazhara had never questioned that. Yet power and strength were not always the same thing. The Force answered her Master with an intensity that Mazhara could only aspire to, but each time Nebulous reached deeply into it, his body paid the price. Flesh already betraying its owner was pushed beyond what it could endure, leaving Mazhara to deal with the aftermath.

She slipped the stethoscope into her ears and carefully placed its diaphragm against her Master's chest. "Breathe normally." Mazhara listened. Her expression remained composed as she moved the instrument, listening again before withdrawing it and checking the nearby monitor. Pulse. Respiration. Temperature. Blood oxygenation. The mundane measurements of a body that housed something considerably less mundane.

Her gaze lingered on the readings. She hated this part. Not caring for Nebulous. That she did willingly. It was being reminded that there were some enemies Mazhara couldn't threaten, deceive, or cut apart for her Master. She removed the stethoscope and reached for a scanner. "Your heart is still working harder than I'd like." The scanner passed slowly over Nebulous while Mazhara watched its display. Her brow tightened slightly. "And before you tell me that you've survived worse, surviving something doesn't make it good for you." There was a trace of warmth beneath the admonishment, but no mockery.

Mazhara knew what Nebulous wanted. The failing body lying before her was temporary. An obstacle. A prison from which her Master intended eventually to escape. Somewhere there was an answer—some secret of the Force, forgotten ritual, forbidden science, or combination thereof capable of severing Nebulous from the mortality consuming her. Mazhara hoped they found it. Until then, there was this. Medicine. Rest. And an apprentice stubborn enough to make certain her Master remained alive long enough to discover immortality.

Mazhara prepared an injector and checked the dosage twice before turning back toward the bed. "This should help with the pain and reduce some of the strain on your system." She hesitated before administering it. Her eyes lifted from the injector to Nebulous. "You need more time, Master." The words were quieter than everything that had preceded them. Not rest. Not recovery. Time.

Because Mazhara understood that recovering from this particular illness wasn't truly an option.
"So until you find a body that won't betray you..." She administered the medication and gently withdrew the injector. A faint smile finally touched her lips. "...you're going to have to tolerate me taking care of this one."

Darth Nebulous

 

[Darth Nebulous]

Darth Nebulous had trained himself to turn the fear inside of him into rage. Years ago, he had killed Stanwil Isomoor strangling the weakness from him. Yet remnants of him still resided in Darth Nebulous. The very fear that continued to take hold of him from when he was a boy. For Nebulous, death was inches away. For all of the phenomenal power that he possessed, Darth Nebulous was tethered to a decaying body. From brittle bones to a weak heart. From a kidney that can barely excrete the toxins that reside in him to a poorly developed lungs. It left Nebulous in a pathetic state the last laugh from his parents who abused him and left him to die in the middle of the cold so they would have one less mouth to feed during the winter.

Nebulous made sure they would be reminded of their cruelty. Yet at the same time, Nebulous had to thank them. If it weren’t for their abandonment, Nebulous wouldn’t have killed the weak boy begging for death and let himself transform into something greater than his parents could possibly imagine. But all that power came at cost. Nebulous drifted in and out of sleep. He couldn’t afford to sleep for his organs would run the risk of shutting down.

He could hardly breathe due to heart palpatations and his limbs were becoming even more stiff. His apprentice had to help him get to the bed and he could hardly turn himself without her help. It was humiliating, he was her master. “I need my blood thinners,” he croaked. Nebulous sustained himself through the Sith magically enhanced armor that he constructed. Yet despite it being the best option, it was only temporary. Nebulous had to spend hours in the bacta tank as well as be injected with sorts of medication.

“Mazhara,” Nebuous coughed. “What were the test results for my blood?”

Mazhara Vanthex

 

[Mazhara Vanthex]

MAZHARA VANTHEX
Darth Nebulous’ private quarters
Nurse’s uniform

Mazhara had seen her Master weakened before. That did not make seeing him like this any easier. She kept that thought carefully from her face as she reached for the medication. Nebulous did not need sympathy. Mazhara suspected he would have preferred an enemy's blade to pity from his own apprentice. So she gave him neither. Instead, she worked.

"I know." The blood thinner was already among the medications she had arranged beside the bed. Mazhara checked the label and dosage before preparing the injection. Even now, with his breathing labored and his body barely cooperating with him, she refused to become hurried. A mistake made because she was frightened could kill him just as easily as the body failing beneath her hands.

His question made her glance toward the datapad. Mazhara retrieved it, reading the results again despite already knowing what they said. "Not good." There was little point dressing it up.

She sat carefully on the edge of the bed and took his arm, supporting it rather than expecting stiffened muscles to cooperate. Her thumb found the injection site. "Your clotting markers are elevated again. The kidney function isn't helping. You're retaining more waste products than you should, and there are signs your blood isn't carrying oxygen as efficiently as it was after the last treatment." Mazhara administered the medication, withdrew the needle, and pressed a small dressing over the site. She didn't release his arm immediately.

"Your levels aren't at the point where I'm dragging you into the bacta tank this instant, but they're moving in the wrong direction." There was something strange about holding the arm of someone capable of wielding the Force with terrifying power and feeling how little strength the flesh itself possessed.

Mazhara looked at him. The Sith taught that weakness deserved contempt. That it should be conquered, discarded, destroyed. She didn't see weakness lying before her. She saw a body that had failed to keep pace with the being inhabiting it. "You're staying awake." That one wasn't a request.

Mazhara adjusted his position carefully, raising him enough to ease his breathing before checking the monitor again. She rested two fingers against his wrist, counting the uneven rhythm herself rather than trusting the machine alone. "Talk to me." Her eyes remained on the monitor. "Tell me about what comes after this."

Only then did she look back at him. "You keep telling me this body is temporary. So tell me what replaces it." Partly curiosity. Partly because Mazhara genuinely wanted to know what immortality meant to her Master. And partly because if Darth Nebulous was explaining his grand design for conquering death, then Darth Nebulous was conscious. For the moment, that was enough.

Darth Nebulous