Private Heading Up High

[Ivan Zhukov]

FONDOR
TAPANI SECTOR
Valeska Sarnova

The Covenant had ripped through the Tapani Sector like a swarm of locusts. Destroying the fleets of the Noble Houses, ripping down ancient families that had reigned for centuries, ransacking treasuries and rearranging the order of things as it suited them. It was why Ivan and Valeska had decided to come here. The Sector was in turmoil, order was far away and two Sith Knights... well, they could do as they pleased in this anarchy.

They had walked past one particular family, clearly rich, noble of some sort, which were carrying as much of their bags as they could through the space port. Trying to flee, trying to find refugee outside of the Tapani Sector.

Perhaps they were hoping things would blow over and they'd be able to return soon.

Valeska, with her stealthy ways, had no difficulty at all to loop back and steal their wallet. Getting their access codes to their apartment and its location. That is where they were now, in the elevator, that was speeding upwards. Not everyone was fleeing, some were staying. Thinking they could weather the storm right here. Perhaps thinking that as long as they didn't make too big of a target of themselves, they'd be fine.

Tough to say how true that was.

"I am looking forward to a real shower. You?" He said quietly as dark eyes tracked their progress. Each level skipping, but the wallet's credentials had been clear, they were meant for the penthouse all the way to the top.

"It is a wonder the tower didn't come down during the Sith's invasion."

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

The Rusalka considered pickpocketing a waste of her talents.

Beneath her dignity, frankly. She was a woman of refinement, a woman of poise and sophistication. Stealing from fleeing refugees -- even if they were rich -- made her hands feel dirty. Messy.

She hated mess.

"I hope there is a bathtub," Valeska said quietly. "And food. I'm starving."

Her eyes watched the numbers as they rocketed upwards. "I'm surprised," Valeska went on, the subtle outer-rim accent gently spicing her words. "Not just about the tower. The barbarity visited on these worlds, these people. The city reeks of death and despair." From a Sith Knight, it was not clear whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, but on Valeska it was clear.

She didn't approve of senseless violence.

It remained to be seen whether this violence was senseless or sensible.

The elevator finally opened and stepped out, expecting to step into the entrance of the penthouse, but instead there was another door. Another keyreader. She drew the card from her pocket and touched it to the reader, and the door opened up. "Smart," she said. "In case someone hacks the elevator. Redundancy."

The penthouse was empty. A cursory examination and a more thorough one in the Force proved that. Only then did she allow herself to relax, her shoulders loosening. She swept her cloak off and hung it on a peg beside the door like she owned the place.

Which, she supposed, under the rules of possession being 9/10ths of law, she did.

"Nice place," Valeska observed dryly.

Ivan Zhukov​

Ivan Zhukov

 

[Ivan Zhukov]

Valeska Sarnova

"They did not seem the type to carry food with them." Ivan said conversationally while looking outside. They had slipped into Tapani space a few weeks after the Covenant incursion and conquest. It was still... messy. When they had walked through the streets, people were hurried, scared and trying their best to go from point A to point B as fast as possible.

Anarchy, where the strong ruled and the weak suffered.

Ivan didn't abide by weakness, but he found the chaos distasteful. What was the point of conquest, if you left everything fragile and ready to eat itself into oblivion?

That was no way to build an Empire.

But by all accounts, this new breed of Sith wasn't interested in nation-building. They wanted this. They wanted the fire and smoke in the air. The taste of fear under your skin.

The suffering.

"Do you feel stronger than before we entered Tapani space?" Ivan suddenly asked as he watched her use the stolen key-card to allow them entry into the apartment itself. "The Masters said that when the Light is extinguished, the Sith will rule because the Dark Side will be more powerful." He frowned there as he took off his own cloak, following suit, hanging it up.

"I do think I feel stronger... but I am unsure if it is just my imagination."

He stepped into the living room and glanced around.

"Yes, these people are filthy rich. Look, they left most of their stuff behind. Just... the essentials." He flopped down on the couch, just to feel its softness underneath him.

"The TV is still here too, that's nice." But instead of turning it on, he bounced back to his feet, towards the kitchen now. Just as Valeska, Ivan was incredibly hungry.

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

Valeska's fingers busies themselves unfastening the fasteners of her tunic as she wandered over to the expanse of glass that made up one wall. Columns of smoke rose from multiple spots across the cityscape, fires blooming like roses at their bases. She considered his question, her gaze stilling on one of the buildings in the middle distance. Something had punched a hole in it, somewhat off center, and above the halfway point. Not enough to bring the building down, apparently.

"No," she answered simply. Her fingers had finally reached the bottom of her tunic and she pulled it open and shrugged out of it. A form-fitting, sleeveless, structured undershirt lay beneath. She set the tunic aside and followed Ivan into the kitchen. "I don't think the masters had any idea," she told him, passing to the fridge, which she pulled open. Perusing the contents, her face remained impassive; the Rusalka was famously hard to please. "Extinguish the light." Brief huff of dismissive laughter. "No such thing. Never. Besides, what happens then? The dark devours itself. We know it better than most."

She took a small, flat cardboard box out of the fridge and flipped it open. Something vaguely triangular, billing itself as pizza, sat rather unappetizingly inside. She held it out to Ivan. "Might be good warmed up," she mused, offering it to him before returning to see if there was anything green to eat.

Ivan Zhukov​

 

[Ivan Zhukov]

Valeska Sarnova

He considered her response, thinking about it while they perused the food.

"So you believe we are in a conflict with no end?" Ivan responded finally as he pulled out some of the foodstuffs she indicated. "If the Light cannot or should not be extinguished. Then what is the point of what we do?" He did not sound dismissive. Thoughtful more like. As if it was a thing that he had not considered until she brought it up.

Which was not hard to believe.

He was smarter than he looked like, yes. But Ivan was a tank first and a thinker second. The fact that he thought at all was already something that was in conflict with his appearance.

"Yes, I can heat it up, they have a stove over there."

Ivan accepted the pizza and started busying himself with that. At least it was electric, none of that gas nonsense. "I have heard rumors that Tapani is only the start. That this group of Sith aim for higher things."

A glance over his shoulder.

"We did not discuss if we would join them proper or just enjoy the fruits of their labor."

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

Valeska frowned at the slightly wilted container of greens she found in the cooler, but pulled them out all the same. She started opening cabinets until she found what she was looking for: stoneware. She helped herself to a bowl and got a plate for Ivan's pizza. "Life is conflict with no end," said the Rusalka. There was something in those words, some emotion that could have been anger or melancholy or derision. "What I believe is of no consequence, but if you wish to know it: I believe the myth of an almost-defeated 'Light' -- some monolith -- is a lie told by the masters to motivate fools to throw themselves into the thresher of combat and domination and war so that the Masters don't have to throw themselves."

Returning to the fridge, Valeska pulled out a bottle of citrus vinaigrette and returned to her bowl. "Think about it. If it were a battle -- a battle to win, not a means of gaining power for individuals and groups, but something which could be conclusively and for all time won -- it would not make sense to pit us against each other. To make us hunt one another. Kill one another. It would be a better idea to promote cooperation and unity in philosophy, not ruthless competition and unquenchable bloodlust."

She tossed the greens in the vinaigrette and then began rummaging around for silverware, then carried the bowl and fork over to the small table. She pulled the chair out and sat primly, watching Ivan, politely waiting to eat for him to seat himself. "The point of what we did was to enrich and empower Yaroslav," she said, smoothing a napkin on her lap demurely. Valeska's eyes rose, meeting Ivan's from across the kitchenette. "The point of what we do now is -- more complicated. First, survive. Then, build our own power. To make the changes in this wretched little galaxy that we wish to see. To take all we can, if that's what we decide we want."

Her eyes glanced toward the window at the question of whether they should join. One delicate brow arched. "I don't know," she admitted. "It's the same as at the Academy, I think. Safety in numbers only goes so far when dealing with Sith. They will be looking to betray us if it benefits them."

Ivan Zhukov​

 

[Ivan Zhukov]

Valeska Sarnova

It was funny how they had not exchanged more than a dozen words between weeks back where they had come from.

Now, Valeska's voice sang out often, and he had grown to like its quality. It helped him too. His head was often silent, quiet, layering on the contemplative nature that belonged to him. But when Ivan listened to her, the words sorted themselves, and he found his own words in return that allowed him to be more than just a sharp weapon.

Interesting how that goes.

"I suppose you are right." Ivan said finally as he sat down next to her, putting the pizza down between them. He was entirely aiming for cutting it in half, to give her half of it.

"It does not appeal to me, your theory, but I find no fault in your analysis." Thick brows furrowed in concern however. "Then more than ever we should ensure not to get dragged into any conflicts not of our own making." Eyes finding hers. "If we die, we must die solely for each other. I know you, I have come to know you."

A gesture towards the outside.

"Ash, the rest of it all. The power we grow must belong to us and nobody else."

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

"It appeals to me as little as it appeals to you," said Valeska promptly. "But of course I am right. I wouldn't know how to be any other way."

Whether this was really a joke -- or simply a humorous truth -- in her mind was unclear to the outside, though an enigmatic smile did cross her lovely lips as she said it. She looked across the table at Ivan briefly, dark eyes tracing the scars that marred his face. To her they made him more handsome, not less, but she had seen the way some had recoiled from them. Her eyes met his briefly before she looked back down to her salad.

The Rusalka had no intention of dying, of course. Not for Ivan. Not for anyone. Perhaps the her that she had been once would have felt more charitably towards the galaxy, towards individuals, towards Ivan. As far as she was concerned, he had received payment in kind for his placing himself between her and death. It was not, for her, a pact written in blood but in flesh, and she had honored her obligations. She saw no reason to negotiate the terms now. There had been no change in the circumstances.

"As you say," she said simply. "I am not interested in these barbarians, but they may be of some use. I suppose we first must decide what it is we want out of our freedom. I gather from your question, a quiet life on some mid-rim farm world is not what you had in mind." The Knight reached over and prodded at the pizza gently with a fingertip, then wrinkled her nose and made a quiet noise of suspicion.

"So what do you wish?"

Ivan Zhukov​

 

[Ivan Zhukov]

Valeska Sarnova

Ivan as a rule did not smile, did not laugh, but Valeska had known him long enough to know when he was amused.

It was the shift in his shoulders and the tug at the corner of his mouth. His heart moving for laughter, while his head yanked it right back into rigid apathy.

"Life makes us into what we are." Ivan said quietly as he grabbed half of the pizza with his hand, ignoring the burning sensation on his finger tips, tearing a big piece off with his teeth. Immediately starting to wolf it down. No class, no caution, all the traits of a boy grown up in an environment where more substance meant more power and everyone else around him trying to steal it from him.

"We do what we can with it."

He finished half of his pizza without the concern exhibited by Valeska.

Black eyes, colored like ember, watched her carefully.

"The old man was weak in his complacency. I wish to carve a life for us where we never become as weak as he does... I want to grow, stronger, more formidable." Leaning in there, the first hints of emotion on his face.

"I want us to become the kind of creatures that can decide to invade the Core and succeed, wiping out a nation in our wake. And what does the Rusalka desire?"

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

Valeska and Ivan were a study in contrasts. Where he devoured food as if someone might snatch it from him, Valeska waited in the certain knowledge that someone, somewhere, might try to take it from her. And if someone hungry came looking for food from her and it wasn't there, they might be inclined to violence. She had experienced it several times at the Academy. She had allowed those larger, more powerful, more aggressive to take from her.

They all paid in the end. When they least expected it. When they thought they had won.

But old habits died hard.

She picked at the salad, working through it slowly and carefully. She was not satisfied by Ivan's answer. The Rusalka had no such ambition, no hunger for conquest. She wished to be left alone, to be free. The impulse to export her trauma onto others -- much less the people of the Core, whose lives had been diminished significantly by virtue of their proximity to one lousy city-planet -- was not present in her. Her hunger was for independence and freedom. She was happy to leave domination to others.

Valeska was a bad Sith.

"Invade the Core?" she echoed. For a moment she sat still, but after one last searching look she hesitantly reached for the pizza. "To what end?"

Ivan Zhukov​

 

[Ivan Zhukov]

Valeska Sarnova

A glance to her, brows furrowed there.

"It was an example, Valeska." Ivan explained calmly, chewing slowly, while considering her question however. "I wouldn't want the Core. Too much attention, too much focus on it. Anyone who invades it, paints a target on their back." But that didn't mean it wasn't possible to acquire smaller kingdoms that were less of a pain in the arse to deal with.

A remote planet, perhaps, that was ripe for the plucking.

"But as for to what end... isn't that what we are supposed to do?" Ivan was surprised at her question. For the longest time he didn't have his own will, he simply... executed what he was told to do.

In fact, the murder of their Master, was the first time Ivan truly had done something because he wanted to and no other reason.

It didn't mean his mindset had time to adapt to that however.

"What else would we do, if not conquer the weak, grow our strength and become powerful?" It was not a rhetorical question. Ivan truly was looking at her with the question in his eyes.

What else was there?

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

Valeska stood and went to the small cooler under the counter, where wine was chilling. She opened the door, examined a few bottles, then bulled one out and began rummaging through the drawers until she found a corkscrew. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she said quietly as she cut away the foil. "What I was taught -- what we were taught -- was taught to us by madmen who pitted children against one another in mortal combat. I made my first kill when I was five years old, because that was the only way to survive." She worked the corkscrew into the cork carefully. "I recognize that this is a large galaxy with many different philosophies, but I don't think that is beneficial in any of them. What did it do besides make us cold, and cruel, and paranoid?"

She looked up at him, dark eyes flashing, and carefully levered the cork out of the neck of the bottle. Z

The Rusalka pulled down a pair of glasses. When she spoke, there was a subtle tone and tempo, as if she were reciting a song she could barely remember. "There again, it could be foolish not to quit while we're ahead." She poured two glasses. "I can see me many miles away -- inactive. Sipping cocktails on a terrace. Taking breakfast in bed. Sleeping easy. Doing crosswords. It's... attractive."

She took the glasses back to the table and set one before him, touching her glass to the rim of his. "But no. Something in me feels a drive to do something. To leave a mark on this wretched galaxy, the way it left its marks on me. But I don't know what, and I don't know whether it would be good. For me. Honestly I could be just as happy going back to that academy and obliterating every master there. Why not? Why shouldn't I?"

Ivan Zhukov​

 

[Ivan Zhukov]

Valeska Sarnova

Ivan listened, brows furrowed, and his confusion only grew.

In truth he had never considered the things that Valeska was saying now. Not in the light she was telling them anyway. The idea that it was screwed up for a five year old to wield a knife and kill their 'enemy', not even speaking of the fact that a five year old could have enemies. No, to Ivan it was normal, more than normal... it was simply reality.

Not something to wonder or worry about.

Valeska... on the other hand, seemed to have had a lot of time to think.

"What did it do besides make us cold, and cruel, and paranoid?"

"Powerful, strong, incapable of bending in the face of the worst pressure." Ivan countered, but there was little to no force behind it. He did not feel particularly strongly about the merits of their Masters.

In the end they had bested their own Master and killed him.

As was correct.

"I can see me many miles away -- inactive. Sipping cocktails on a terrace. Taking breakfast in bed. Sleeping easy. Doing crosswords. It's... attractive."

Ivan had never considered the joys of... taking it easy. Of finding a place to make his own and relax. It felt odd, foreign. Not off-putting, really, but not something that... fit with him. It didn't find a home in his heart of hearts like it may have for some. He wished to say something to this, but he was frankly at a loss of words.

How does a glacier comment on the arrival of the sun? He melts. And Ivan had no intention of melting.

"Honestly I could be just as happy going back to that academy and obliterating every master there. Why not? Why shouldn't I?"

But there Ivan perked up... a touch.

"Why shouldn't you indeed?" Said with interest, leaning his chin against his hand. "We took the opportunity we had to leave, but there is nothing to say we cannot go back... and finish what we started."

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

"There will be children there," she murmured thoughtfully. "And if we destroy their support structure, they will become..." Valeska's eyes looked mildly over the rim of her glass and she smiled faintly. "My responsibility." Their time at the academy had hardened their hearts in different ways, it seemed. She wondered idly if the she had suggested that he would hold some responsibility for them if they slaughtered the masters, if he would have given her that similar blank stare, that mild perplexity that had radiated in the Force at her suggestion that she might like to put her feet up.

She knew it was impossible. It was not in her nature to be idle.

"You learned the lessons they wanted you to learn," Valeska observed in relation to their former masters. "To get what you want. However you can."

Something passed between them in that moment, something cold. He had been more like Yaroslav than he wanted to admit, she thought. Perhaps he had never seen the way Yaroslav looked at her -- the way he sometimes spoke to her when he thought no one else was listening. If Yaroslav hadn't ordered Ivan to kill her, would they still be there now, propping up the ancient and corrupt regime? Inflicting a cycle of deranged violence and abuse on another generation of pupils. She shuddered at the thought.

"Perhaps it is why you see only the benefit."

She clutched her glass so firmly that she could feel it begin to crack on a molecular level, and released her grip just before it did. Valeska took a deep breath and stood, pacing away from the table. She longed to put her fist through the entire miserable galaxy, to fill the lungs of every person who had ever wronged her -- by harm, by abandonment, by neglect, by coveting -- with brackish water and watch as they realized the error of their ways. The Rusalka's fury was a cold one, and it took her by surprise in that posh penthouse.

She had to stop herself as she felt the cold tendrils reaching out toward Ivan.

Not him, she reminded herself. Not today.

"You tell me," she said quietly as she set the glass down on the kitchen counter. "What we do next. It is a polite fiction, anyway, that I have an equal say. We know this."

Ivan Zhukov​

 

[Ivan Zhukov]

Valeska Sarnova

The concept of being responsible for children would have indeed be met by a lack of understanding. The same sort of perplexity that was radiating again now that she said that it would be her responsibility.

It was interesting... how she could be so ruthless, yet so gentle in her way.

Ivan wasn't sure what he thought about that.

In the past it would have been something he was forced to beat out of her. Ordered by their Master. The only reason it hadn't happened between them is because she presumably had stayed quiet about these sort of attachments and emotions while they were there. Now she felt more comfortable, he supposed, to air them.

Her trust was confirmed because he did not erupt into violence at the gentle nature. Just... mild confusion.

"You tell me," she said quietly as she set the glass down on the kitchen counter. "What we do next. It is a polite fiction, anyway, that I have an equal say. We know this."

Her next word surprised him again, but in a different fashion.

"Do we?" Eyebrows up at her. "I do consider our voices to be equal in these sort of matters." There were other matters, ones they had already locked into place at the Academy, where he led.

"You see things different from me. This is valuable. If we only rely on my instincts, we might find ourselves dead. We are not the big fish in a small puddle anymore. I have seen some of the damage this Covenant can do. My instincts tell me to go for their leader and rip their heads off. I suspect that will lead us right to our grave... for now."

He licked his lips.

"You wish for a quiet place. I wish for power. How do we find the overlap in this?"

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

It wasn't a matter of compassion, really, or of anything approaching softness. Rather it was morality and pragmatism. Killing all the people keeping the children alive and then leaving them to starve there would have been... insane. She would have at least insisted on taking the little ankle-snappers to a nearby civilization an dropping them off. She wasn't a psychopath, after all.

Still, least said the better, she thought. She kept watching out the window, her dark eyes light in the dimming sunshine. "I have conceded that a quiet place would not satisfy me," Valeska reminded Ivan, not looking away from the window. "Not for very long, anyway. I fear I would be bored. I need something to occupy my attention. Something to absorb my more... malign impulses."

Finally she turned. The tendrils had all but retracted from Ivan, though they remained at the ready. Waiting for her word. Waiting for her call.

"We seek power, obviously," Valeska said, approaching the table again. "Once we've rested. Once I've forgotten what that wretched place smells like and what Yaroslav's eyes feel like. If you feel it is with this... Covenant ...well, I suppose I trust your judgment." To the extent she trusted anything. "I'm not interested in swearing an oath, or tying myself to them in any permanent way. Loyalty with anyone who is not us tends to be a one-way street."

Ivan Zhukov​

 

[Ivan Zhukov]

Valeska Sarnova

If Ivan noticed the subtle workings of Valeska, the way her tendrils reached for him, he didn't make a note of it. It could very well be that he was entirely ignorant in the matter.

His primary power lay in the physical. A brute, a tank, who smashed through his opposition.

But never say never, those eyes had always seen more than his mouth would utter.

Ivan snatched her wrist, tugging only once and gently at that, but indicating for her to settle down in his lap. Where his other arm would wrap around her waist while he looked up at her. "There is always the Sith Order, the Masters were never very positive about them, but that means very little." Thoughtful again as he watched her.

"They seem to be better organized, more structured."

But that could also mean more leashes on them. Which is why it hadn't been his first inclination.

"Let's marinate on it. If the Covenant falls before we make a decision, it means they were not the right party for us." Kissing her shoulder softly. "Shall we go and explore? I am keen to see what wealth means to these Core-worlders."

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

"I would assume that better organized simply means the worship moves in one direction," Valeska said quietly, still thoughtful. Her fingers twisted around the stem of the wine glass for a moment, then she lifted it and drained what remained in the glass before reaching for the bottle to refill it. She considered Ivan's glass and topped it up, too.

"Let's have a look," she agreed. "I heard someone say this used to be the capital of the Galactic Alliance, before the Galactic Empire threw them out. Maybe this was a Senator's apartment, or a Jedi Master's. Although it seems a bit swank for a monk that's supposed to be eschewing wealth in favor of asceticism." Her eyes cast around, eyebrows lifting, and then she stood.

"Have you heard anything true about the Covenant?" she asked as they wandered through the living room. "Not the deranged rantings of their faithful or the worst-case whining of the ones they've conquered."

Ivan Zhukov​

 

[Ivan Zhukov]

Valeska Sarnova

He kept sitting for a moment longer, enjoying the warmth that Valeska had shared with him, before rising himself.

Glass in hand, sipping, but lightly.

"I heard that the first Jedi billionaire came from the Republic. So the fact these apartments are swanky sadly doesn't mean much." He said calmly as his own eyes scanned the room. It was automatism to do threat detection immediately. To try and see where the hidden dangers were. Internal turret systems, laser arrays, the works.

None of it relevant here, not for an upper-class but distinctly class of people.

He tried to force himself to look at it from a different perspective.

The quality of the art. The cushions of the seats, the size of the television. These were things that mattered for comfort, did they not?

"Brutal." Ivan answered her. "To a severe point, their Tapani campaign was pure butchery." His tone didn't suggest any judgement on that. "By all accounts they refuse to institute any sort of order or structure after their conquest. It isn't clear if that part of their ideology or sheer laziness." Brows furrowed as he looked out of the window at the sheer destruction.

"Might be a bit of both if we are being honest. I don't think they fit with your view on things at least." Over his shoulder as he bend over to check out a retro vinyl music player.

"Didn't realize they still made these. I assumed it would all be digital by now. I found one of these in the attic back at the compound."

 

[Valeska Sarnova]

Valeska frowned as she took the information in. Conquest without structure. Butchery without reason. Anarchy, it sounded like to her. The rule of the strongest. That worked when the strongest had ideas toward building an empire, but what if the strongest didn't care about what came after the slaughter, the conquest? Was it up to the people conquered to regroup? Or would piling the stones back up only draw the ire of the conqueror once again?

She put it from her mind. These people were not her responsibility, not her problem. What the Covenant did to them and expected from them after their conquest was nothing to her. "Sounds about right," Valeska told Ivan flatly.

She examined what he found closely, taking it from him and turning it over in her hands. She had never seen anything like it. Her fingers played across the textured surface. "What is it?" she asked, turning it over. "It looks like a -- you know -- one of those things you throw. Like a discus. But much less bulky." Valeska frowned and handed it back over. "How could you make that digital?"

Ivan Zhukov​