Private Grassroots

[Corin Kaze]

Razmir Tezhyn

​

There was growing malcontent in Sith space.

The Sith Blackwall effectively ensured that the Sith remained undisturbed by external forces, mostly. The more persistent would discover their methods, it seemed. In the process, however, others had become imprisoned behind the Blackwall. Their protests were quiet, softly muttered frustrations that could not truly become known, or else face the consequences. Yet, some were far too bold to consider their continued existence.

A colony erupted into a sudden, swift rebellion. Incited, was the word in every dark and dreary cantina.

Some failed to recall the name, others argued as to whether he was an Ithorian, Duros, or Human. Some debated whether he was a man, woman, or neither. Corin put the image together, in the end. Piece by piece.

Corin waded through the densely packed crowds on the smuggler's spaceport, shrouded in a darkly coloured cloak. He broke off, delving deeper into the bowels of the station, towards the agreed upon meeting place. It was hardly a first, meeting with contacts in secluded and unseen locations. Though to meet with someone such as this, Corin knew Dagon would offer that disapproving glare.

He would chastise him, as if he was still some boy. Though that boy, wherever he was now, was not here. Only the Corin of today, for better or worse.

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Razmir sipped his Corellian whiskey, sitting at one side of a makeshift table on the reactor shaft platform. He'd earlier posited to his colleague that he'd be enjoying one of the last freely available glasses in this sector of space, on account of the Blackwall's ban on trade. So he tried to make it count, savouring the burn as it went down.

The air was cold and stale in the abandoned reactor shaft. No one came down here. This tunnel would only ever be needed if the stars aligned, on the edge-case the reactor had to be dunmped after a freak accident and every other redundancy failed. Barely anyone ever thought to check on the backup plan for the backup of the backup's backup plan.

When Razmir focused, he could barely make out the rhythmic hum of the antimatter reactor churning several hundred meters below. He disliked the type of idleness that made such observations possible. He'd been kept waiting longer than he liked, and so he'd had time to dwell on thoughts he'd rather ignore.

The official story of colony Besh-1138 was that it had turned on its garrison and been punished accordingly. All fifty-eight souls had been wiped from the surface, and any notion of rebellion mercilessly crushed by the SIth legions. An ear to the ground, however, revealed that the people told a different story. The colonists of Besh-1138—known as Harper's Courage—had been loyal to the bitter end, wholly innocent of their crimes and never wavering in their devotion to the Empire. Ultimately though, neither their loyalty nor their innocence could save them from the capricious whims of their Sith masters.

Which truth the individual chose tended to impact the conclusion they drew form Besh-1138's destruction. Were they encouraged by the notion that their masters were vulnerable? That they could be killed, even if it took sacrifice? Or perhaps the truth they read was bleaker. Was their continued loyalty enough to save them from the Sith's wrath? Did their sacrifice for their Empire mean nothing in the face of Sith whims?

What lesson the people would learn Razmir couldn't tell, not yet.

He took another sip of the Corellian whiskey watching the empty glass across from him with expectation. The whiskey still burned with that pleasant sharpness. He'd miss that taste once it ran dry.

Corin Kaze

 

[Corin Kaze]

Razmir Tezhyn

​

The tap-tap-tap sound of footsteps across metal grates joined the idle, near-rhythmic hum, with a rhythm of their own. The Jedi, for a lack of a better term, closed the distance between them. He did not seem to meet the expectations of his kind, with appearances more akin to their darker counterparts in the Force.

It must have been a disguise, one could think. The truth of the matter is that it made him uniquely suited to the tasks to come. That constant glare was most unbecoming of a Jedi, after all.

"Harper's Courage," he said at last with a flat, void of a voice. If not that, then the disgust might seep through. "It was your doing."

If Dagon was here now, he would not so much as entertain this notion. If it made it all the more difficult to do it all alone, then so be it, Dagon would have lead the charge through the mess. In his absence, however, Corin had become something to be less than proud of.

He thought of Dagon a lot lately.

"Tell me, why?"

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

"Sit, have some of the Corellian. It's the last bottle this side of the Blackwall."

Razmir didn't get the sense he would. The stranger didn't fit in with the wizards in bathrobes he was used to. The man standing opposite him on the service platform looked like he'd emerged from the darkest streets on Nar Shaddaa. Functional attire, weapons concealed, and the permanent scowl of a man who'd learned too early that trust could kill.

Razmir smiled, a cynical, one-sided thing.

"We're not like the rest," he gestured vaguely to the space station's innards, teeming with life.

"We walk this world like ghosts. Transient drifters, the both of us. No sword to hang above our loved ones, because we have none. No one to take hostage to keep us in line, and nothing to lose but empty lives. That makes us dangerous.

"These people? They are bound by everything we're not. Blessed and cursed by the very bonds we lack. They're trapped in the misconception that loyalty, apathy, inaction can buy them safety from the Sith. Too afraid—or too in denial—to admit that this safety is nothing but a blindfold from the truth that their masters are butchers who would discard them on a whim."

Raz leaned forward in his chair, fixing the stranger with his gaze. Those eyes held a hint of familiarity in them. That sense of resentment against an injustice that was impossible to right, like a burning coal held close you couldn't let go of.

"What do you suppose happens when they're robbed of that delusion? When they're forced to come face-to-face with the horrors of their reality?"

Corin Kaze

 

[Corin Kaze]

Razmir Tezhyn

His wordless decline was still and stone-faced.

There was some truth to the words spoken, however. A ghost, a phantom on an empty road. Of all those he once knew, a scant few remained - dead, missing; lost to him in either case. Only one was precious. A singular, sole weakness. That one humanizing factor, what conjured the thin line of separation between himself and men like Razmir.

"Their lives crumble," Corin admitted, having seen it first-hand. Hardly a pretty sight. "Despair consumes them."

The slums of Denon were mired in despair, even now.

"You seek to stoke the flames of that despair, insight rebellion with it. To what end? To free the people from the Sith, or to kill Sith?"

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Razmir took a sip of the whiskey.

"I fail to see the difference. The outcomes are the same," he set down the glass, cocking his head.

"Though I suppose it's rather impractical to kill every Sith. They breed like a mynock infestation. Freedom, then, is a more practical goal. I'm done watching their tyranny of fear perpetuate itself. These people deserve to live free of the Sith Empire, and I aim to give them that freedom," Razmir traced the rim of the glass, thinking, then looked up to the stranger still refusing to sit.

"And what end do you seek?"

Corin Kaze

 

[Corin Kaze]

Razmir Tezhyn

His voice remained flat, rigid - not dissimilar to the rest of him, a statue made flesh that betrayed not so much as a hint of emotion.

"I seek to win. To discover the truth of this Blackwall, to bypass it efficiently."

Countless wars waged with the Jedi and Sith embroiled in the chaos, the fires stretching and scarring every corner of the galaxy. No world was left unscarred.

"Even by means the Jedi would not always approve of."

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

"What concerns the Jedi can remain with them, on the other side of that Wall," Razmir spoke with the barest hint of disdain in his voice.

He leaned forward in the chair, resting one arm on the table while the other lazily propped him up against his knee. His expression remained serious, focused.

"Will you sacrifice every semblance of inner peace to achieve that victory? Burn everything that you are for someone else's future?"

Corin Kaze

 

[Corin Kaze]

Razmir Tezhyn

"The lengths I'll go to will be enough."

His answer held the weight of finality, a notion of experience rippling through.

"I have limited funds on this side of the Blackwall, but... I will aid you through other means until I can slip past the wall reliably."

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Razmir flashed a satisfied smirk. It died against the cynical reality of their circumstances. The stale air of an abandoned reactor shaft, echoing with whispers of desperate rebellion, wasn't exactly the future he'd envisioned for himself.

He leaned forward and stood from the chair, noting that the Jedi stood just a little taller than he did.

"Aid me through means the Jedi wouldn't approve of," Razmir rephrased. "There'll be plenty of that. Rebellions aren't built on chivalry or noble deeds."

The bottle of Corellian stood half empty on the small table setup, the second glass still untouched. It really would be a shame to drink something so rare all alone.

Razmir opened the bottle and poured some of its contents into the second glass.

"Our goals align. Removal of the Blackwall is inextricably linked to freedom, and I'm far from being in a position to refuse help in getting rid of it. Neither of us would stand here if the other wasn't sincere in that desire, I figure," Razmir picked up both glasses.

"A toast to victory, and the treason it will take to get there," he grinned and offered one glass to the Jedi.

Corin Kaze