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"I have... I have nautralized citizenship on Enarc. I can... Gah... I can be useful to you."
-- Her to Darth Carnifex
in " Him " .
' I Spy, With My Red Eyes, Something Beginning With The Letter, " J " '
A story set in the Shiraya's Sanctuary
It is a complicated time in the home of the Jedi Order.
After all there has been a lot of turbulence that has shaken the fledging foundations of the peacekeepers of the High Republic.
Departures on the Jedi Council have led to several prominent members leaving to take their responsibilities elsewhere which has left the leadership of the Jedi fractured and left to the insecurities or whims of Ala Quin
. An incursion by the Sith Order on New Cov has also left the taste in the mouth that the Sith were not left satisfied with the purge of the New Jedi Order (in the wake of the Galactic Alliance's fall) and that the Shiraya-Jedi might be next on the agenda. Then there was the tentative relationship with the Mandalorians as the Jedi tried to negotiate along the lines without crossing over and bringing into disrepute the ' Treaty of Twin Crowns ' .
All of it so complicated. So tentative. Like a string could snap at any moment and bring the light-side over into catastrophe, and ruination.
Somewhere in the sanctuary (located far and deep enough away from the dozens of children and other students who were learning the ways of the Force) is a cell-block and inside it contains a prisoner surrounded in enigma. Indeed, Her had studied their captors well since beginning her incarceration (albeit temporary) under the whims of the Jedi Council. She knows when the nearby Jedi guards are patrolling the corridors nearby and when the time is most opportune to make contact with the many powerful, influential figures that she had courted across the Mid Rim and Outer Rim systems.
Quietly Her could not have foreseen that, by the end of the Thandon Cluster Campaigns wrought by the fallen, terrible Imperial Confederation at Brosi, that she would be in league with the same man that all their machinations, plots and plans (over the past five years since the turn-of-the-ninth century) had been created to destroy. But it was as Syn wrote several millennia ago: through strength, I gain power.
Darth Carnifex has strings on Her now
There had been a time, many years ago, when the Santhe Corporation had served the paradigms of the Eternal Father. What a co-incidence... How fortuitous that a stolen piece of tech made by a deceased Liann industrialist would once again serve to further his agenda in the Mid Rim systems. Dusk has settled across Shiraya's Sanctuary as the birth of a new day loomed in the skies overlooking the Jedi's home, and within it's deepest pits where all the most wise and powerful were allowed to go, an old enemy is contacted by a woman who had tried to destroy Him, failed to do so, and was now roped into service less He decided to reach out to snatch the life out of Her for once and for all.
"TK-73," Her muttered quietly into the Vigilance transmitter which hung from their ear. It was an Imperial codename that had been generated for Her during their time in the Empire of the Lost; a useful deception not only to confirm that it was Her who was communicating with Carnifex along the transmission feed but to also obfuscate who it was that she was talking to. After all it was an Imperial code (and not a Sith one) that she was using to speak with the Dark Lord in the event that the Jedi still possessed someone cunning and intelligent enough to listen in on these apparent secret conversations with third parties outside of Naboo.
"I have information for you, my Lord," Her muttered again. She clenched a fist into the base of their palm and the pain kept Her in check. She had always hated calling Ayra by the axiom and now here she was calling their most hated of enemies by the same title. "I endeavour to continue being... Useful."
That was all Her had to do according to Him. To be useful. Usefulness abraded and kept the thousands of assassins littered across the galaxy from taking Her out. It kept the half-dozen followers of the Kainite (particularly those closest to his inner circle) consisting of apprentice, acolytes and Lords across the Sith Empire from following suit.
Indeed, if Her knew anything their enemy turned master, it was that if it ever came to the business of killing the woman then it would be beneath him to do it when the time inevitably came to end the woman on the other end of this feed.
For a moment there was nothing, only the warble of the transmitter's feedback in Her ear.
Then a presence imposed itself upon Her, the weight of His vision. It pressed in from all sides, engulfing Her in its vast enormity. Like staring into a vast oceanic abyss where the bottom could no longer be discerned, dragged from the calm shallows and submerged in the hadopelagic depths. A voice arose to meet Her, setting all Her nerves alight with something that could be considered fear.
"What morsel have you dredged up for me, my little Shadowling?"
It was His voice, there was no doubt about it. But it did not seem to come from the transmitter, but rather from all around Her. That harsh velvety bite still persisted in each syllable, but there was an undertone of mocking coyness laced throughout. He took pleasure in Her discomfort, the imprisonment she's had to endure on His behalf. No doubt He found all of it very amusing.
Even across vast distances, many parsecs away, she would feel the sensation of His hands resting upon Her shoulders.
When they keep calling you by name then, after awhile, you start to believe it that it is yours. Not implicitly, mind. It is more about getting to used to it. If the mob declares that you are something then it does not matter if it is true or not. These are the lines which blur between what is fiction or what isn't; and this is why people lie in the first place because when a good lie is put into it's paces then it may as well be the truth. Yes, lies can be more powerful than the truth to a point that the latter becomes the former if it is potent enough. These Jedi keep calling Her by the name of someone who used to be one of their own. It is the name of someone who they never got to meet because they passed away a long time ago. Being a liar is a heavy burden. You have to get used to it and become who or what they say that you are.
Even when you are a killer. Murder is their verse and they knew it the moment those red eyes looked across at them all.
These fictions and truthes are also which separates or differentiates between how an identity is formed in the first place. Names are just labels that are applicable so as to mean and be recognised. There is another word which encapsulates all of it. They say that the eyes are the windows into the soul.
What if you are someone who doesn't have one?
This is the reason why Sela Basran
, Ala Quin
, Colette
and the other members of the Jedi Council (including those who had recently resigned from their posts) do not believe the alleged Sith Lord that they have caught in their prison and why the facts that they have delivered have, thus far, been seemingly ignored as they figure out what to do with Her. There is the unspoken, underlying truth that Her has been keeping to themselves that would expose and subsequently reveal the enigma before them. But she won't tell them what it is. They can sense it. Almost touch it. When you are around this woman you can taste it in the back of your throat. It is an uncomfortable thing born out of realisation, power and wisdom. Sometimes you need to spit the bile out to clear the senses to get to the bottom of it.
It doesn't matter what Her says to the Jedi because they quietly know that it is the things that she hasn't told them which prevents them from following through and doing something about the leaked information that Her has provided them in a vain, failed attempt to court favour and readmittance into the Jedi Order. They will never believe that she was a Jedi, or that she was trying to return back into the fold; and Basran, in all their cunning, has ascertained that Her must have already known that before she ever stepped foot into Shiraya's Sanctuary to share patterns and allusions to a conspiracy that threatens the High Republic itself.
It is all going to plan.
So far.
Darth Carnifex said:
"What morsel have you dredged up for me, my little Shadowling?"
Her prostrates themselves to the Dark Lord of the Sith.
A being of many titles.
Desolator. Conqueror. Eternal Father. Sith'ari.
He knows things that the Jedi do not about this shadow. All omnipotent in the Force itself.
Her closed their eyes as the Dark Lord asked his question. It like she was back on the Malsheem. That suffocating presence that only He could instil into others. Her had to endeavour not to cross over into catastrophe and ruination. Death is at their throat now and He would slice the proverbial jugular open, to let Her bleed out on this Jedi stone, if she not abide by that one, simple maxim that He had conferred to Her within the bowels of his greatest creation.
Be useful, or you will die.
Ruin could wait then if Her could only ever and endeavour to be useful.
"My Lord," Her repeated quietly. He wasn't here on Naboo. She was safe from his wrath albeit temporarily for the moment. The nerves that she felt settled slightly at this realisation. It was enough to let Her speak hesistantly. "I have been incarcerated by the Jedi Council in a place called Shiraya's Sanctuary. They are keeping me detained here and from conversations with their members I have deduced that still have not figured out what to do with me. This confusion has been deliberate..."
Her knew that she would have to make contact with Carnifex after He freed Her from His clutches. It was inevitable. Axiomatic. Life had been given back in the form of a twisted, manipulated thing and only in exchange if she remained useful to Him. It was not an act of mercy that had prevented Him from putting an end to the life of a person who had conspired, colluded and turned Imperial remnants, Diarchs or other influential, powerful men all across the Outer Rim systems to attack the Thandon Cluster.
But as Her knelt in prostration to the presence of the Dark Lord, as He conferred with the enemy that he had turned into a spy through his indomitable Dark-Side powers in the Force, she wondered what to tell him. Would Her admit that she had told the Jedi Council about the Trade Federation's links to Him? That the Mandalorians were in the pocket of the Sith Order? Would He understand that in order for espionage to work sometimes you had to given a little bit before you could take?
"Soon enough I will be able to share the triangulation of the sanctuary with you, my Master."
Her almost snarled that last word. Master. She hated calling Him by that maxim, and for the rest of Her life, she always would.
The presence was still for a time, like the absence of air in a vacuum. Then the cold chill of the Dark Side returned, creeping up Her spine vertebrae by vertebrae. He may not have been physically present, but that mattered little. He was far greater than any flesh could possibly portray, His power over the Dark Side eclipsing all others. In darkest shadow He moved, where not even the light of the Jedi could hope to illuminate.
Blind they were, the Jedi, to the darkness in their midst. Her was but a piece, for the Dark Lord was never foolish enough to rely on just one to carry out His bidding. Her would know nothing of this intentionally, the Dark Lord allowed Her to believe that she alone would be the instrument of His will amongst the Jedi Order.
"You have done well," was His response, a content purr resonating through Her inner ear. "The Jedi are right to mistrust what you say, for have you not traded in actions that the most righteous among them may deem distasteful?" The sensation of fingers on the back of Her neck, gently rising until the sides of Her face were engulfed in intimate sensation. "They will soon have no choice but to believe you, when the words you seed in their minds begin to bear fruit."
There was a brief moment of mirthful laughter, though whether it came from within Her or beyond was impossible to discern. "I will bestow upon them a sacrifice, one that you will aid in facilitating." The feeling of a thumb pressed against Her's full lips followed the Dark Lord's instructions, almost threatening to probe further into Her mouth before it receded.
Involuntarily Her closed their eyes. It was a reflex that could not be helped for the body reacts to such things when it feels abject fear. She felt His presence carve itself up from the naval, at the bottom of the back, and caress itself upwards along her skin until it reached the top. It was like being back on the Malsheem. Frozen and suspended in terror, except this time, it was not an invisible force-field but pure, unadulterated power which had crept and found it's way into the hidden home of the Jedi.
Her's mind raced at the thought that, at any moment, the Jedi would spring into the cell and find their prisoner caught in this malevolent entity which had been their nemesis ever since the Sith first revealed themselves to the Galactic Republic. Torn were the feelings which He stirred within the woman held in his grasp.
Partly Her did not want to be caught, and on the other hand, there was a certain enticement at the idea of being discovered like this. In way she would be free again. No more lies to tell.
Darth Carnifex said:
"The Jedi are right to mistrust what you say, for have you not traded in actions that the most righteous among them may deem distasteful?"
He was right. When Her had met with the Jedi Council, in order to confer secrets that she wanted to hide the knowledge of from Him, Her shared details of how had acquired them. Links to the Inquisitorius, the trained Jedi killers who served the Empire, was among the titbits of information that the enigma had admitted. There had been a notable shift after that. Curiosity, with a feeling to give Her a chance to tell them what she had come to say, fell away and instead they became perplexed followed by a move to confine the woman in their custody until they could figure out what to do with them.
There was no trust there. Not while Her reeked of the dark-side. No matter how many times she professed to have once been a Jedi herself and not the alleged Sith Lord that they claimed Her to be.
Darth Carnifex said:
"They will soon have no choice but to believe you, when the words you seed in their minds begin to bear fruit."
Her visibly flinched as laughter erupted from Him and their eyes widened in abject horror as they darted towards the grates of the bars that were keeping them confined in Shiraya's Sanctuary. Surely the Jedi would have heard that? At any moment they would flood in to sav- kill Her before the entity surrounding this Imperial spy, Republic traitor, Jedi gone bad could finish what He had come here for.
Darth Carnifex said:
"I will bestow upon them a sacrifice, one that you will aid in facilitating."
It felt like a thumb was pressed against Her lips. It stopped Her from calling out for help. To stop the scream which died in Her throat as He wrought his conspiracy upon a woman who had tried to reap their own upon Him and paid the price for Her duplicity by entering into His service.
Darth Carnifex
in " Him " .
Ala Quin
. An incursion by the Sith Order on New Cov has also left the taste in the mouth that the Sith were not left satisfied with the purge of the New Jedi Order (in the wake of the Galactic Alliance's fall) and that the Shiraya-Jedi might be next on the agenda. Then there was the tentative relationship with the Mandalorians as the Jedi tried to negotiate along the lines without crossing over and bringing into disrepute the ' Treaty of Twin Crowns ' .
