Private Journey to Ronika

[Darth Themis]

Jedha

One hundred years into The Gulag Plague

This was a rediculously bad idea and they knew it. You don't parlay with a Sith. You don't 'trust' a Sith. In better times, more peaceful times, this wouldn't even have been considered. Certainly not by The Guardians of The Whills.

But that had been before Darth Phyre and the Cult of The Brain Demon running amok.

The fact that so many Jedi were themselves dead from plague, and the final destruction of The Mandalorian Crime Hunters on Kar Shian at The Cult's hands had been the deciding factor.

Neither of the two present on this rock wanted to be here. It was insane. They were insane for even considering it and they both knew it.

But insane seemed to be their only option left. No Guardian of The Whills was going to stop Darth Phyre or bring order to the galaxy. You needed a Jedi for that. And expecting any real assistance from Jedi would take too long...they were barely surviving this horrible galaxy wide disease themselves.

Many thought the Plague a punishment from The Gods. A punishment, specifically, on The Jedi and The Sith, their 'reward' for constantly tearing up a perfectly good galaxy: Now all their power was to be torn asunder. All the old status quos wiped away. Some strangely even welcomed the horrible plague because of this: Maybe things would never change without a cleansing fire wiping out all the dead plants and underbrush. Ironically the Sith's very maxim on change was being thrown in their face: That was 'their' punishment. All the change they could possibly handle. The Jedi's was to have no way to end the suffering. Not with the Force or Lightsaber. No conflict to turn the tide of, no shatterpoint to perceive to make the bad guys lose. This time the bad guy was everyone. This time the bad guy was everywhere.

When Adrian De Lifte, one of the last of a special cast of Whill Guardians keeping watch over a deadly abomination of the Light, he could not imagine a worse punishment for The Jedi Order as a whole. How quickly everyone forgot The Golden Age!

Adrian, a tall, but lanky man with sun tanned skin and bright blue, innocent eyes, a shaved head and classically handsome, clad in the dark blue and gray robes of a Whill Guardian, clutched his disguised Lightbow and his prayer beads as he slowly walked like he was going to a funeral to the glossy black Pyramid in an isolated desert on Jedha surrounded by mountains. Next to him was his wife, Ellen, also a Guardian. She was clad as he was, her head also shaved. She was pretty, but not drop dead gorgeous, with pale skin and green eyes that looked with compassion on almost every living creature. Noted exceptions were the creature she was visiting.

"I am with The Force, and The Force is with me. I am with the Force, and The Force is with me..." Adrian chanted...

"It is useless to chant the mantra, Adrian..." Ellen remarked quietly as they journeyed to the Black Pyramid. "What we are plotting to do now... there is no going back..."

"We cannot stop the cult on our own. We certainly made no difference on Commenor, our own birth land." Adrian replied just as quietly, battling his entirely justified fear of the creature they were to speak with.

It should be said that before trying this option, that they really had tried everything else. They 'had' looked for Jedi, powerful Jedi, capable of stopping Darth Phyre. They had not succeeded in finding even so much as a weakling stray padawan. Not even a Cal Kestis in the making. They'd have even taken a Zayne Carrick, Force help them.

They had tried to find worthy warriors to at least fend them off. They had been turned away. Hardly anyone was crazy enough to take on a cult that blood thirsty. That and they had too much on their own plate. It was increasingly obvious they could not do this without a Jedi.

Or at least, something powerful enough that wanted the same things the Jedi did, and the added benefit of ruthlessness...

"We have no choice, Ellen. We 'need' a powerful Light Sider to fight the cult..." Adrian insisted as they walked, the pyramid now looming like a pointed eclipse above them.

They could not feel it yet. They were not close enough.

"So why do I feel like we are making a deal with The Devils of the universe?" Ellen asked, her worried stare piercing him as they reached the entrance, a turbolift that went straight down. Adrian put his eye against the Retinal Scanner in the lift, his identity confirmed a second later. Ellen did the same

"Please confirm vocal identification." The lift computer announced, gun turrets popping out at all corners ready to riddle them with bullets if the check did not match.

"A long time ago..." Adrian trailed.

"...in a galaxy far, far, away..." Ellen finished.

(Star Wars Main Theme plays for a few seconds)

"Voice print confirmed. Welcome, Guardians..." The Lift computer confirmed.

They were both silent, both frightened as the lift went down. Though they were skilled warriors in their own right, they lacked the methods to deal with even one of those cultists...The Guardians had always been 'Jedi's little helper' but not more than that. But they had their uses...

Like sweeping an embarrassment of the Light under a deep, dark rug...

...and keeping it there...

They went through a hallway lined with automated security. Passed through a dozen checks before they were allowed to cross a large bridge in a cavern deep beneath the earth lined with enough explosive to level the gigantic cavern, which glowed with green patches of luminescent fungus.

To this day, Adrian had not understood why they simply had not killed the creature and been done with it when it had been captured all those years ago. Perhaps they had hoped to sway it to proper understanding?

If they had not succeeded, what made him think he or Ellen could?

He had to try. His fear grew as he approached the great tree of black bark and leaves surrounded by a circle of prayer wards that had been slavishly maintained year after year, until the plague. After all these years only he and Ellen had survived the Plague. All others had died. Maintaining the wards was a monthly chore...the creatures power was such that the wards effect constantly, visibly degraded. He had tried to maintain it, they both had, even as it taunted them. Joked even.

Adrian and Ellen were both holding hands as they got within range of the tree, at last feeling the creature's twisted presence in the Light. They were terribly frightened at this point, knowing not to cross the wards.

It slithered out of the upper branches, scales a glossy, shiny black. Adrian gulped in terror. It had always frightened him just thinking about it. Ellen was so frightened of it Adrian was the one who often came here in the last few months.

The gigantic ebon serpent, longer then they were tall, blinked glowing gold eyes, its forehead adorned with a gold marking, the ancient symbol of Ashla surrounded by a pentagram as it rested in a tree of mutated black apples. It spotted them and yawned.

"Adrian, you're early! And I see you brought Ellen! You really shouldn't be such a stranger, Ellen." It hissed in a dark, yet feminine voice. "After all...you'll have to find 'someone' to take over..."

"Darth Themis! We've come to bargain!" Adrian exclaimed.

The gold eyed serpent tilted its head slightly.

"You win..." Ellen said a second later, averting her eyes. "Do you hear us? You win!"

"Ooo...what's the prize?" It asked coyly.

Adrian stepped forward, but did not break the ward barrier.

"We can't keep you in here forever. I'm desperate. Out of options and out of breathing room. You'll get out eventually anyway if one of us or both of us fail to return. What's the point? Was there even a point to start with?" He asked the serpent.

The Serpent said nothing, only looking at him.

I've come to make you an offer. One I know you could fail to honor at any time of your choosing. I will release you early if you help me. Help us."

The Serpent was silent still, looking between him and his wife.

"You 'must' be desperate, to bargain with a prisoner in a jail you personally maintain..." it spoke after a moment. "Continue..."

"A vicious, unscrupulous cult of Dark Jedi known as The Cult of The Brain Demon runs nearly unopposed through the galaxy. A plague ravages the Galaxy. The Jedi are scattered, broken. We cannot find any to combat this threat. None except you." Ellen explained.

"See, 'this' is why I insisted on holoprojector privileges!" The Serpent complained. "How can I know what's going on outside these walls if I can't surf the news channels?"

"We don't have time for your stupid cracks, Themis!" Ellen snapped.

"Oh, but you 'do' have time. You're spending all of it with me. You and Adrian..."

"We cannot stop them. Not on our own. We need you. To train us. Train us to fight that damned cult." Adrian elaborated. "Train whats left of our whole damned family on Commenor if you have to..."

The Serpent eyed him, looming closer and he almost shriveled under its gaze.

"Apprenticeship is about willingness. You would abandon your oaths? Forsake them utterly?" The Serpent asked.

"The only oath we ever took was to help bring balance to the galaxy, and defeat the Dark Side. We are failing at both. We lack the resources, the training, and more importantly, the insight into our foes mindset. You are the closest we could come to finding a genuinely powerful Jedi." Adrian explained.

"I am 'not' a Jedi..." The Serpent warned.

"We're not asking you to truly be one. Just act like one in public." Ellen added, stepping forward. "They won't trust a Light Side Sith fighting the good fight."

"Ain't that the truth..." it half joked.

"The Galaxy needs heroes. All the heroes it can get right now..." Adrian said, finally crossing the ward circle.

The Serpent slithered down the trunk, his face reflected in its glossy black scales as it drew itself to his height to stare into his eyes. To his credit, he did not gulp. He wanted to, but he didn't.

"I am aware of your bloody acts to preserve The Golden Age. You did those things to Dark Siders even when they did not pose a threat." Adrian spoke politely, respectfully. "You may have been censured in your time, but that time has passed. Anyone who did care about your actions are long dead. You can start over.

"Oh, but that is where you are wrong. They 'did' pose a threat. They 'always' pose a threat. And lets not use such polite euphemisms for what I did. Lets just call them what they were: Crimes."

"We need someone willing to commit those kinds of crimes against Dark Siders. Being a Jedi while commiting will lend them legitimacy."

"Well. Look. At. You. All embracing the realpolitik and whatnot of your situation! You surprise me, the both of you. All this time, tending to my prison, ignoring my barbs, and there was the seeds of rebellion in both of you all along." The Serpent remarked, chuckling. "I really do find heirs in the oddest places..."

"Can you help us? Will you?" Adrian asked.

"You are bold to ask this of me. Especially when you have still given no real incentive to do it your way..." The Serpent noted, slithering around him, coiling around him but not touching him as its head stared at him from above him. He was trapped in a cage of its coiled flesh, like being in the middle of a spring.

"Adrian!" Ellen whispered fearfully, going for her lightbow.

Adrian silently held out a hand, dissuading her.

"I 'am' offering an incentive..." he explained calmly. "My incentive is you get to actually be a hero. To do the job the Jedi cannot. Or will not. To prove you actually believe all that stuff about an orderly, peaceful galaxy. Even if you aren't truly one yourself. And to actually be appreciated for getting your hands dirty. Unlike before."

"As long as we operate in public as Jedi we don't care how you are in private. But people must believe the Jedi are out there, doing their jobs. If that means letting you loose...we'll do it." Ellen affirmed, albeit hesitantly.

The Serpent regarded both of them silently once more.

The head of the serpent twisted and warped, taking on the hood of a cobra, its face now that of a woman, albeit stylized and faceted like a gemstone. Its golden gaze looked deep into him and he gulped in spite of himself.

"I would be in charge? You would do what I ask?" It wondered.

"Do we 'look' like we are fit to be in charge?" Ellen asked. "No. It has to be you doing it or it all breaks down and we are back to square one, and up chit creek without a paddle."

Just being around this creature was disturbing in of itself, but the real chill to both their spines came when it actually laughed. It was an unnatural sound.

"I have to admit, its been a loooong time since someone came at me with that angle..." it admitted. "Hell, I'm tempted out of the sheer brazeness of your appeals..."

But then it frowned. "An apprentice ship requires trust. Faith. I see only fear amongst you..."

"What do you fething expect?" Ellen asked. "We were taught all our life to fear you. That's not going away overnight. Its just that we know you better than we know any other devil."

"Conflict 'does' breed strange bedfellows..." it joked.

It focused purely on Adrian again.

"What shall prevent you from betraying me once I have done what you ask? Once this Cult of yours is no more?"

"After all the hell we have been through so far, and all the hell we'll experience fighting the cult, I doubt we'll have the energy to do it." Adrian answered. "Let some other poor bastard worry about you once we are dead."

The Serpent laughed again, and slithered away from him.

"I accept your offer..." It hissed in a jubilant manner. "Undo the wards..."

Both Adrian and Ellen looked at each other and slowly concentrated.

"I am with the Force and the Force is with me. I am with the Force and the Force is with me. I am with the Force and the Force is with me..." the husband and wife team said in unison, clutching at their prayer beads...

The holy circle around the tree caught fire and vanished.

Adrian went over to his wife and took her by the hand. This was the moment of truth. For all three of them.

The Serpent smiled, and this time its whole frame bulged and twisted, breaking down and warping into a curvy, feminine figure, completely nude.

Her skin was a light tan, her hair very dark and made to look as though it were a long topknot. Her forehead was emblazoned with the same symbol as her serpent form, but in black instead of gold. It was disturbingly reminiscent of some artist interpretations he had seen of Exar Kun, often portrayed with an ancient symbol on his own head. Her eyes had a strange bronze metallic sheen where the whites normally were, the irises themselves an odd, solid dark green. Her lips were full, slowly curving into a smile

Adrian's mouth dropped for a slight second at the beauty of the figure. Even Ellen looked surprised, but the fact this hideously deadly creature could look like a beautiful woman only made her fear it more.

The creature took a slow, hesitant step over where the wards had been, grabbing an apple from a nearby branch, taking a bite.

Adrian and Ellen felt sweat building on their scalp.

The nude creature took a few steps to them, chewing. It was suddenly within arms reach.

I'm going to die, he thought. And I've killed my wife in the process.

Instead of death, the creature held out the apple to Adrian. Adrian blinked before slowly, hesitantly taking it. He took a bite, then offered it to his wife. Ellen took the bite.

"Kneel, both of you." Darth Themis ordered.

They were both on their knees, Ellen letting the apple slip out of her hands.

Themis pressed her thumbs to both their foreheads. He winced as he felt a burning sensation. The same symbol that was on the forehead of Themis was now on theirs.

"Do you swear yourself to my teachings?" Themis asked calmly.

"Yes." Adrian and Ellen both said.

"Do you swear to purge this galaxy of the wretched Bogan followers?"

"Yes..." they both said.

"Do you vow to rip, and to tear, until it is done?" Themis asked.

"Yes..." both husband and wife said.

Themis was satisfied.

"Lead the way, my students...this is your era after all. Not mine."

The two newly minted apprentices of a Light Side Sith Lord rose, their perception of the light already starting to warp by accepting this, and led her out of her prison...


Present Day.

Ronika, Empress Teta system.

Darth Themis snapped out of her meditative trance, finding herself back in reality, blinking Light-mutated eyes as she beheld the unfortunate soul beneath her.

He was a Jedi Knight, or at least, had been, before that wizard had gotten to him.

They were both on a plateau overlooking the small city that had been set up on this planet since the Grayson Imperium had set up shop.

The knight, lying on the ground at the center of a pentagram drawn with her own blood, which glowed bright green due to how the light warped it, thrashed about in pain. He had the features of a rakghoul on his face but none of the innate feralness. No, these alterations had been done to amplify his bloodthirst, his connection to the Dark Side.

She had been trying to use Alkahest to solve the problem, narrow down how he had been mutated, but it was becoming clear this one was at the point of no return. He had been too heavily mutated, and had been that way too long.

The Bright Lord of The Sith, clad in a glossy armorweave black catsuit sighed as she watched the knight snarl in rage and blood lust, his robes torn and dirtied with blood of the innocents he had killed before she had found him. But there were still more, and she guessed more were soon to be made based on her visions.

Red lightning cracked over her head, making her flesh ripple as it reacted to the dark energy in the clouds. She felt the death knell of a Jedi's soul in the distance, being irrevocably mutated out of having one. Worse than dead, in her eyes.

She looked down. She could do nothing with this one.

Her lightsaber, modeled after Ahsoka Tano's, slipped into her hands. A bright pink blade sprouted.

"Forgive me..." she said grimly, beheading the creature, watching his body burst into flames of crimson.

Themis rose, staring at the chaos in the city, the fires spreading as an army of captured, mutated Jedi continued to cause maximum destruction below. She had saved and evacuated who she could in the process of netting mutated Jedi but there were far more than she could handle, and she decided the best thing to do was to try and find some cure, but no success so far. She had killed three test subjects already.

She was possibly about to kill more to end this.

She could feel him in the Force. That diseased presence that had unleashed this slaughter. He was deep in a canyon guarded by Tarentateks. But every future she looked into said she would fail to capture him if she went in alone. A great deal of the futures where she stayed here said she would die inevitably. But she could not leave these people to their fate. Some part of her honored the De Liftes too much to let that happen.

Many of the futures she looked into said she would lose if she stayed

All except the ones involving a man with a title... P Placeholder 0128 . She had only been back in the galaxy a short while since her ressurection. A lot of the new lingo alone had flown over her head, and she had casually destroyed two Sith before even coming to this planet to try and help its people.

To save the people though, as always, required getting her hands dirty...

Themis went over to the next test subject, sitting down in front of the pentagram he was magically trapped in. He started thrashing in agony once Themis dispassionately began forcing the light into his body, trying to purge the mutations. There were several other imprisoned. This latest subject was test twelve. She would have to get more, and soon...

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Ronika happened to be one of several underdeveloped worlds that the Imperium now found within its borders. The liberation of Empress Teta had been a long and bloody one, and it seemed that world was keen on being the gift that kept on giving. The worlds within the Empress Teta system were in varying stages of disarray, and Cedric had found himself spending far more time away from Coruscant and Tython dealing with this than he would have liked.

But it needed to be done. No world within his Imperium's borders could be allowed to fall by the wayside. The work was tiresome, but fulfilling. Most it had involved infrastructure efforts, and a focus on restoring the industrial powerhouses that had once made the core so coveted. All was going well, until word came from Ronika.

A group of Essonian settlers had opted to raise themselves a city alongside the natives. It was to be known as Forewatch, and would serve as the seat of religious power here on Ronika. The Followers of The Ashla had poured hundreds of thousands of credits into the project, and half of the colonial effort had been pushed by the church itself. Cedric encouraged such. The spreading of their teachings would quell many future uprisings, and in the end, would lead to the Imperium being a far more moral place than most.

A handful of Jedi had come to assist in the building of the church. Cedric did not know them, but some members of the other orders had opted to flock to the core upon hearing of the rise of the Imperium. The Graysons were well known for their defiance of the Sith, and Cedric's more utilitarian philosophies had appealed to some, whilst ostracizing others. Evidently several of those Jedi had gone quite insane, and had begun to attack the populous. The Lord-Imperator's starship had quickly diverted to the planet to ascertain what was happening.

"Two of them on the right!" Sergeant Remfor barked. The private operating the laser turret complied, and quickly spat a stream of superheated plasma into the deformed body of what had once been a Jedi. The creature squealed, falling to the ground in a twitching mass. Its cohort was quicker, dodging beneath the stream, then launching itself high into the air. It was all Remfor could do to try and shoot the thing with his sidearm before it completed its arc, slicing clean through the turret, and the private's forearms.

The young men collapsed immediately, his bloodied screams echoing through the outskirts of the city and through the comm channel. The creatures raised it emerald lightsaber to execute him, only to find a cyan blade erupting through its back. It slackened, dropped its blade, and collapsed.

"Get him to the medics," Cedric Grayson snapped as he stepped away from the corpse.

Remfor nodded. "Already on it Master Grayson. There anymore?"

Cedric cast a quick look around. They stood on the outskirts of the city, where these two monsters, and several others, had evidently slain several citizens before being noticed by the local security forces. They were lucky Cedric and his squad were here - things likely wouldn't have gone so well otherwise.

"I don't sense anything. Take -" his words were momentarily cut off by the private's screaming. " -...care of him. I'm going to investigate," he turned to leave, before gesturing to one of the six men that had accompanied him. "Make sure you pick up his arms. They can probably be reattached. Respond to any attacks while I'm gone: you're the only people in this city trained to fight force users."

A few affirmations were voiced. Cedric nodded, drew his cowl over his face, and wandered off into the orange wasteland beyond. The empyrean would show him the way as it always did.

Darth Themis

 

[Darth Themis]

"Please describe the sensations you are feeling..." Themis said quietly to the mutated Jedi.

The Jedi, a Nautolan in utter agony, having been captured just as the mutation was really starting to take. (And after he had killed three people)

She had some semi-success. This one was fresher than the others. She had already restored some of his more essential cognitive functions, but the process used to alter him was something she had never encountered before: The Science of Sith Alchemy had advanced since her death.

"Just...burning...all the time..." he wept from the pain.

The flesh on Themis's face rippled as she focused, the mutated Jedi screamed in agony as arcs of electric judgement flared around the pentagram he was surrounded in.

She focused, trying to undo the insidious alterations to his very genetic structure, or at least reduce them enough to make him functional. But no luck. The best she had succeeded at was making him aware enough he was never going to be alright again.

She tried still, focusing as hard as she could. But the mutations began rapidly emerging again and he was soon just another snarling monster again, all skill at killing and little else.

Themis grimaced. Another failure. But she had gotten closer.

Her pink blade flashed on.

"My apologies." She whispered, beheading this latest one. Three left. She watched as his body burned up in the pentagram.

Another failure in a lifetime of failure. On to the next one. The black clad Sith knealt in front of the latest, who had been a Rodian.

Themis tried to see into this one's future, stretch out her senses. None of the futures shown to her showed one where he lived except as a beast.

Themis tried anyway. It was what The De Lifte Family would have done. Her family.

"C'mon, dammit, c'mon..." she growled, forcing The Light to rampage through his flesh in an all out attempt to brute-force the mutations out of his system. All it did was make him spontaneously combust, and he died in agony, much to the Bright Lord's silent horror.

Onto the next...

The sensation of darkness reached her and she froze, rising and turning. The Mutates had found her, their sabers already bled red. The one doing this had sent them.

The Bright Lord glared at them, seeing it all play out a million different ways with the Force as the monsters approached. She could sense the blood of men, women, and children on her foes and felt nothing but pity for her fellow lightsiders. This wasn't their choice.

Themis rose, twisting the Light around her, glowing green veins became visible on her face.

Her blade remained undrawn. She would not draw it until it was just the right time to. She began to walk towards them, seeing the battle's futures in her head.

One mutate sprang forward with his double bladed lightsaber, and Themis clenched her hand.

What occured next functioned like a Force Crush, except the crushing and pain part. The tissues of his neck and limbs were frozen in place at a fixed point, and while this did not hurt, it was such a strong grasp he had no chance of escaping the deadly burst of lightning with a solid, dark green color. The manipulated energies, which always reacted violently with a Dark Adepts flesh, insta-gibbed him to pieces.

The others moved in unison like pirranhas, but her fingers twitched, and they stumbled as a leg on each, the tissues stopped from moving, froze in place. One Mutate throwed out a Force Choke attempt, and she was forced to release them, channeling the light to protect herself from the effects of the dark, feeling her throat tighten only a little as opposed to the savage neck crushing strength it would have been.

Now the saber came out. She waited until one was seconds from striking. She moved when she saw that moment in the timeline.

A pink flash, a swipe, and the Mutate tumbled to the ground, cut in half lengthwise.

(Character Theme Song Power Up)

(Theme: "Veteran of The Psychic Wars" by Blue Oyster Cult)

Another's blade rushed for her face and she deflected, seeing his moves happen before he made them, all except one which scorched her shoulder. Unlike a certain biot she had once created, Themis herself could still feel pain though reduced, and she cried out a little, but kept tight control over her emotions, deflecting the next swipe and beheading him just in time to catch and parry the spin of another saber staff from a mutated Twi'lek man, face half like a rakghouls.

She was fending off attacks from two different fighters, one in a mad, crazed Makashi, the other in the grip of Juyo, Eratics and precision but no discipline. Mindless assault. It was clear these had not been meant for anything except use on a civilian population, not engaging a Force User with their wits still about them...their lives ruined, souls defiled, their legacies tainted with the dishonor of civilian blood.

The fething bastard who had done this would pay.

Themis slipped into the aggression of Sith Ataru, her blade like a buzzsaw as she boosted her speed with the Force trying to overwhelm them with sheer speed and savage counter assault, her blades striking from every angle possible, waiting for one of them to make a deflection attempt she had seen in her vision.

He did so, and Themis punished the mistake with a feint that cut through the Juyo fighter and led into a spinning intercept from the Makashi fighter, who mindlessly parried a savage but focused attack endlessly, retaliating with a stab.

Themis, instead of dodging the stab, braced herself. This was gonna hurt.

Themis cried out as it pierced her Torso, the pain like having an extremely hot poker in one's torso, but she kept her wits, grabbing his sword wrist and stabbing him through the face with her blade.

Two more, who had circled, waiting for their allies victory or their defeat rushed in, both attacking her with Form 5. Themis ensnared one with the Force, holding him in place while catching the blade of the other, deflecting it and cutting him in half. She then went to the one who was trapped in mid air, his arms forced to his sides.

She was about to behead him as well when a vision made her stop, looking at him.

In many futures where she tried to reverse the mutations on him, she succeeded.

Themis backhanded her human captive unconscious, and he tumbled to the ground. Themis then dragged him into an empty pentagram and began to meditate, listening to his screams and feeling a sudden rush of guilt at the pain she was causing someone whose side she was technically on.

If he survived...she hoped he forgot about this whole thing. She remembered being this helpless. It wasn't pleasant.

As she meditated, forcing the light painfully through his body, she felt a faint approaching presence. So...this was a future where P Placeholder 0128 showed after all...

 

[Placeholder 0128]

The empyrean shifted violently up ahead. Cedric had been wandering for what felt like an hour, keen not to take a speeder to avoid alerting any of the local wildlife. If he was going to get to the bottom of where these mutants were coming from, he would need to do so quietly. The farther from town he went, the more the Force twisted.

He envisioned it as a bloated thunderstorm hanging just above him. Lightning crackled within its darkness, but it did not spread from the radius of the cloud. At least not yet. Whatever was doing this, it hadn't finished with its plans.

Cedric's thoughts were interrupted by the snap-hiss of an emerald lightsaber. He turned toward the green light, only to find a robed man-thing charging him from one of the sand dunes. How he'd not sensed it he had no idea, but his own blade quickly hissed to life. The Blade of Ruusan was a nexus of the Light in itself, and the assaulting mutant halted a few steps away from Cedric, its open hand waving impotently in front of its face to avert the burning presence of the Ashla.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Cedric sighed as he stepped into the creature's guard, his lightsaber piercing its chest before it could do him any harm. The Jedi's nose scrunched up in displeasure as he nudged the beast with the tip of his boot. "Ashla take you."

He turned once again toward the source of the Force's pain. It came from a nearby mountain, or what felt like such. Cedric followed, swiftly finding himself traveling down a cavern path into something more substantial. He sensed the Ashla within, like a nexus, or a living thing, though it did not feel like a normal creature.

The Jedi Master entered then, clad in black-war plate, his cowl drawn about his face, and his lightsaber humming with life. Unsure of the situation, he opted to simply ask.

"Anyone in here?"

Darth Themis

 

[Darth Themis]

Themis felt the mutations start to reside, slowly but surely. She reached this one in time. She watched as he went from a snarling beast to something that looked almost fully human before his screaming stopped and he was just unconscious.

Themis's hand reached out to touch his scalp. She had barely saved him. He was unconscious. Cured.

Saaaaaaay, as long as he was in the pentagram...

Themis ceased this train of thought immediately. Yes, she could make him so much more powerful in the light. So many times stronger and faster and smarter. But she had not yet gained back fully her willingness to mutate people for a good cause. She still remembered the helplessness of her own death. And even though she would not be trying to kill him, it was still too raw a memory, too raw a death.

She had not hid from it, or run from it, or even dreaded it. She had waited for it to arrive. She had gone down with the ship. No regrets. She had died as Moya De Lifte when they had tossed her into the Black Fire to sacrifice her to the Dark Side. It had been a painful, excrutiating death. Had nearly ripped her soul asunder. But she had persisted.

And all that was left of Moya now was the creature that had been before Moya.

Themis rose and went to the next subject. She looked into his future. Only three futures where he survived. She gazed upon the one next to him. No futures where he survived. She tried with both anyway. Both burned up in the pentagrams. Themis averted her eyes from the horror of it. The screams.

Then came the last one. She looked into his futures and sighed. She hated this kind of choice.

There were many futures where he survived. But all of them involved him being permanently changed mentally by the experience. It would be slow at first, but gradual. He would slowly be tempted to find the Dark Side. And he would become a terrible threat. A Darth, like herself.

Themis was not certain what to do...

She had come across visions like this before in others. Now matter the branches they took, their future was seemingly set. While she sometimes got visions like this wrong, they were not wrong very often. She tested before, cut ten in a row loose. All Sith Lords now.

Themis tried to save him anyway, meditating. The future is not set. Not completely. Maybe what she had seen was just white noise. She had been wrong about when and where her own first death would occur. She even went more carefully with him in flooding his body with the light, hoping that he wouldn't burn up.

He didn't...but he still could not take the strain. His brain necrotized in his skull. Though Themis had tried to save him in spite of the possible consequences, she could not help but be relieved that the man was dead. Quick. If not painless.

Only one saved so far out of more than a dozen.

Themis stiffened, feelling the presence of P Placeholder 0128 close at hand, traveling through the large cavern path leading to the plateau that she was using as a base to conduct research on how these poor souls had been altered.

Themis felt him very close now, deciding to head to the mouth of the plateau's entrance itself to meet Grayson. There were a lot of things in this future she didn't get, but what she had heard about the Grayson Imperium, she liked.

The black clad Sith knew the Imperium was stocked with Jedi who somewhat tended to think like someone such as her more then they might ever be comfortable admitting out loud. They were 'not' like her of course. Many of them--a good ninety percent at least--'were' true blue Jedi. But Themis could see some of them had grown disillusioned with the Idea of the Light and Democracy. She understood this deeply: Disillusionment with democracy had driven her to the Sith in the first place. And she had never had more than a lukewarm attitude to it even as a Jedi.

Themis of course did not introduce herself as Darth Themis. That would have been silly. It would have instantly put him on guard, and the whole advantage of being a Light Adept Sith Heretic, was that she could walk among Jedi without raising alarms...too many alarms anyway. He would no doubt know something wasn't quite right about her.

Still...why make it easy for him.

She was standing still when he entered, had even placed her lightsaber on the ground beforehand, to ward off any possibility of a fight between them.

"Master Jedi. A pity we meet under such circumstances." Themis spoke quietly, grimly.

"My name is Moya De Lifte. I've been trying to save the mutates you have no doubt encountered...unfortunately..." she added darkly, pointing to her one success, the unconscious Jedi still in her pentagram of green blood.

"I have not met with the sort of success I would like..."

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Men of human pleasures might have accepted the woman on her name alone. She had a shapely form to her, and the features of aristocracy in her face. In his youth, the Jedi Master might have been moved by such, but such mortal vices had no hold over Cedric Grayson. His regard for her in the empyrean was different, however.

The Ashla flowed about this one as it did him, though the shifting of the tides about the island that was Moya De Lifte were not as easily perceived as his were. There was a shadow here, but not of the Bogan. It was a slight darkening of the waters, a moment of cold chill amidst a sea of warmth. This was the shadow of deceit, though Cedric could not discern what intent was behind it.

Something to note for later.

"Indeed," his voice was low and cautious. His eyes narrowed slightly as his lighsaber dimmed, silencing the room, and casting aside the cyan light it had offered. Cedric stared for a few moments, his gaze shifting between the woman and the body upon the pentagram. An odd choice of symbol.

"My name is Cedric," he offered, clipping the blade to his belt. "I'd say it's a pleasure, but..." his gaze traveled pointedly toward the mutant. "It seems we have the same cause then. I came to assist in stabilizing the settlement here, though that mission hasn't gone particularly well." His brow furrowed.

"What do you know of this disease?"

Darth Themis

 

[Darth Themis]

Cedric...so that was his name. Cedric Grayson. It was obvious he didn't think as most Jedi did, with a title like Imperator. This was the Jedi who protected an empire very much like what she had sought to establish once.

A Jedi, willingly serving an empire as opposed to a democracy. They were growing up! Finally!

Themis listened to his question, going over to the one Jedi she had saved. Her pink blade sprang forth to light the way as she led him to the one Jedi she had managed to save.

"Its fast. Alchemized. Gotta get to someone affected within at least two hours to stand a chance of saving them. Anything after that is a lost cause..." She answered grimly, looking sadly at the Jedi, remembering the dozens like him she had once trained. A part of her missed that.

"It hits the brain's aggression centers, kicks them into overdrive until they seem to be in a constant, almost unthinking murderous rage." She answered pointedly.

The Jedi stirred. She knealt down. His features were nearly what they were before. But his eyes were two pools of black. The night vision he had gained as a Sith Spawn would remain, permanently.

"Shh...slow down, son...you...you've been very...sick..." Themis trailed, blinking her light mutated eyes at him...

"Ughhh..." The Jedi groaned, blinking at his migraine. He stared at Grayson.

"Imperator! You've come. We stumbled onto something!" He said to Grayson.

"No chit..." Themis remarked dryly.

The Jedi blinked at her a few seconds in confusion.

"You...I remember you from...somewhere..."

"Long story..." Themis replied patiently. "What did you and your people find on Ronika?"

"Some mad old Dark Wizard. Kagonoc The Accursed, father of Dorgonoc The Upheaval, a vicious Dark Jedi who the Imperium executed for murdering everyone in a hospital with Force Drain. Kagonoc has sworn revenge on The Imperium. He's dug up some godsforsaken Sith ritual that turned me and my friends into beasts." He answered them both.

"How long does the ritual used to mutate you take to prep?" Themis asked.

The Jedi blinked, trying to recall.

"It took a full day. Bastard's old. Takes a while for him to fully and safely channel the dark ritual through his body. He...he was working on the newest batch when we were...let loose..."

The Jedi's eyes went wet, and to her horror, Themis realized he remembered most of it.

"I swear to you..." he said to the Imperator. "I could not stop myself, no matter how hard I fought. It was a nightmare...I tried. I tried so hard..."

Themis saw it in a vision a couple of seconds before he tried it, catching her lightsaber before he could pull it out of her hand and kill himself with it out of remorse. Two fingers shot forward, followed by unnatural sounding whispers from Themis and the Jedi fell asleep.

"He's traumatized..." Themis remarked distantly, though the look of despair on his face would haunt her forever.

"He'll stay asleep until we retrieve him. This wizard is in a canyon far from the city. I see it in my visions, Master Cedric...he has more there. But there are many of the turned still running loose...I do not like the idea of leaving the colony to suffer as it does..." she admitted, turning to him. There would soon be no way to hide how she twisted the light to her bidding instead of serving it soon. There were a lot of branches to the future when that happened. Sometimes Grayson would react with the worst hostility possible. Other timelines he would not care. Other timelines he would be curious. And yet still others he was even friendly. But there where many futures where his reactions were even more varied. So many she cut herself off from looking at them, lest she be driven mad.

"In the interest of disclosure..." Themis said, going for partial honesty, as those increased the chances of futures where Cedric had at least a nuetral reaction. "I am 'not' a Jedi. I am...a heretic."

She retrieved her collapsed Lightsaber Spear, instantly developing a sense of comfort at clutching it as she extended it. It had been constructed as Moya. No tricks. Just Cortosis weave and Synth.

Themis blinked. The last moments of her warriors. A second damnation. A second failure. Couldn't even die when she wanted to.

The silent, red and purple lightsabers piercing the brains of her warriors. The screams as constructs of the Brain Demon slashed them apart. Darth Phyre, torching the Padawans...

Themis's knuckles were gripping the staff so hard they had gone pale as she struggled to control her emotions at the horrors.

Themis walked past P Placeholder 0128 breathing hard.

"Follow me...I know an easy route into the colony. The old man can wait. Those people can't..."

Thirty minutes later...

Themis had not said a word during her walk to the colony, still struggling to control the surges of guilt that rocked her occasionally, her spear, simple looking with a glossy, obsidian shaft had no markings, and seemed to be use not like a walking stick, which would have given her some dignity, but like a crutch to keep from keeling over. She clutched it in both her hands, for it was her only friend left in the galaxy.

Well...not quite...if one counted Julia...who she had sent to this era. But Julia did not know she was alive. Not yet.

She spotted a man who had been badly wounded in the fighting occuring deeper inside the colony. She went over to him, looking at his futures. Sometimes, saving this man led to him becoming a villain down the road. She risked it, stretching out her hand.

The rapidly bleeding out, mangled man shuddered as her hand stretched out over him. Green arcs of light side electricity, a strange dark green energy with oddly little glare, appeared everywhere. The wounds started to reverse themselves, his lost leg regrowing as he cried out.

"It'll be over soon..." she assured him in that grim, unsmiling tone.

The wounds, any of which were fatal or crippling soon disappeared, green electricity flooding into lascerations to stitch them shut.

The man woke, looking at himself.

"Get the hell out of the colony..." she warned him. "If you take the route down main avenue you always reach safety. Don't ask how I know that. Just scram."

The man did not question, simply running away.

Themis chose to speak to the Imperator again.

"I've only been in your territory a few weeks, but I must confess, I never thought I would see full on Jedi fighting to establish an empire. Not that I look down on such a choice mind you. If anything...it intrigues me. What's the rational?"

 

[Placeholder 0128]

The Jedi Master was silent as Themis interrogated the man. He offered the youth an encouraging nod when he went out his way to speak to him, but Themis seemed to be asking all the questions that Cedric had been brewing over. Content to let her lead that conversation, he drew in the information that was relayed attentively. An old man had caused this? Some form of Force user?

His brow furrowed as he mulled over the possibilities. It was around then that Themis spoke of her 'heretical' status, something Cedric was immediately skeptical of. Her presence within the empyrean was not hidden, but indeed glowed with the light of the Ashla. Jedi or not, so long as she followed the path of faith, he had little reservation about working with her.

"A heretic is one that follows the path of the Bogan," he corrected, shaking his head, "You don't, so far as I can tell. I serve the Ashla, and if you do as well, then we are kindred spirits." He explained, keen on making it clear he had no hostile intent toward the woman. "I've worked with Wardens of the SKy, Jensaarai, and every other active force order in the galaxy."

Silence followed once again as Themis led him toward the colony. The silence was pregnant, a dozen questions forming in the back of the Jedi Master's mind as they continued onward. He held them for now, not wanting to betray the visage of stoicism that he worked to present at most times. It was only when she asked her own question that he allowed himself to speak.

"You spared him," he mused, "It was the right thing to do." He turned bodily to face her, "Many things. The Republic and the Silver Jedi abandoned my people long ago. Left us to face the Sith Empire alone. My world was rendered lifeless, my people forced into a genocide, all because the Republic couldn't finish their referendum in time." His brow furrowed. "I served several governments afterword, and found myself disgusted by their inability to act, their disunity. The galaxy cannot be saved through direct democracy. Democracy is, of course, the end goal for any peaceful nation, but to survive in this current climate, we must be united under a singular, powerful banner. Thus the Imperium."

He paused to draw in a breath before continuing. "Most of the Jedi I have met barely qualify for the role, and those they serve often have intentions beyond simply protecting the people. With power consolidated in my hands, the Imperium can respond to threats and disasters immediately, and our purpose is singular, unmuddied by personal ambitions."

A final pause as he offered her a somewhat guilty smile. "There's also the matter that I simply don't trust any of the major players anymore. Not enough to follow them."

Darth Themis

 

[Darth Themis]

Themis listened to P Placeholder 0128 as he gave his answer.

"Well at least one Jedi was finally willing to admit what the real problem was..." Themis replied, deeply uncomfortable as he brought up the fact of his people being genocided. It reminded her of how her own family had died, alone and burning.

Themis, walking through the colony, civilians still occasionally seen fleeing down other streets. She clutched her spear tightly. She had something in common with this Grayson fellow. She wasn't used to that.

"I wanted a peaceful civilization too. I did...things...to try and make sure it stayed peaceful as long as possible. I was...unsuccessful."

Themis, of course, was speaking of both her time before and after she became Moya De Lifte. Both failures took the breath out of her sometimes, made her wake up screaming. And now here she was, on another damn fool idealistic crusade.

She had half considered retirement. Permanent retirement. Some simple identity as a trader or merchant where she could rest and forget the old horrors. But she could not stop fighting, due to a combination of not knowing how and not wanting to stop. She had unfinished business with whatever was left of the Cult of the Brain Demon. She would see the cult destroyed, or her life would have no meaning.

"My solution back then was if someone stands in the way of true justice...you simply walk up to them and stab them in the heart...you should be on your guard, Imperator...the rest of the Jedi will not let go of their perception of heroics no matter how much success your approach may have. They'll even fight people who want the same thing if they don't do it just the way they think it should be done..."

Themis forced the bitterness out of her voice. She felt she had a right to be bitter. She tried it their way, and found it wanting.

She glanced at her spear as she walked...



Twelve hours after the release of Darth Themis.



Jedha

Adrian and Ellen De Lifte kneeled at the campfire they had made with Darth Themis, who had morphed her body to make it look like she was wearing a catsuit of black scales and began preparing tea.

No one had said a word since leaving Themis's prison.

Ellen was the first to speak. She blinked green and bronze mutated eyes.

"My husband and I still are uncertain as to the specifics of how we will actually get the rest of the De Liftes to unite under the banner we are creating. We are also uncertain as to how we are to hide our natures from them."

"There are magics for this..." Themis answered. "They won't know the truth unless we actively choose to give it away...which will be never..."

"The rest of my family is extremely Anti-Sith...if one of them even suspects you are not the genuine article, it could fall apart on the spot. Can you even 'do' a proper imitation of a Jedi?" Adrian questioned as he boiled the water.

"Wars not make one great..." The Shi'ido mocked, doing a dead on impression of Yoda's voice thanks to her vocal mimicry.

"Not what I meant..." Adrian said, both he and his wife pinching the bridges of their nose in annoyance.

Themis smirked and rose, receeding into the shadows. A second later she re-emerged, her body now looking as though she were wearing dark green armored robes, her hair done in Princess Leia type buns. Her whole body language seemed to have changed, along with her eyes, which were a warm brown. Even her beauty seemed to have been softened with a hint of being middle age. Her face as serene as any Jedi Adrian had ever encountered.

"The Force must be brought into balance. We are all affected by the darkening of it, and true champions of the Light must rise to answer it." Themis said softly, lacking the normal grimly amused edge to her tone. "I shall train any who wish to follow me on the path of The Jedi, so that we might gain justice for the slain."

Themis broke character, her eyes taking on their normal, mutated color.

"How was that?"

"Ehh, a little general, but we're not expecting you to win any awards." Ellen replied.

Themis shrugged. "We have time to work on the character. Just one word of warning, folks, I'll do the role but I'm not going to be a complete goody two shoes...I'll give you, like, I dunno, 'eighty percent' goody two shoes. How's that?"

"I'll be honest, Master, we'd have taken sixty percent." Ellen admitted.

Themis sighed in an exaggerated manner.

"Knew I shoulda bargained lower."

"What seperates you from normal Sith Lords?" Ellen bluntly asked.

Themis smiled.

"Once upon a time..." Themis began, retaking her previous appearance. "I was a historian for The Sith Lords. I guarded the Libraries with my master, the Head Archivist. Her name was Darth Vine. We actually got along she and I. I wouldn't go so far as to say we were friends. Or, we were the closest two regular Sith ever get to truly being friends. We knew one of us was going to have to kill the other. I was not looking forward to it, and neither was she. But the day came when her brain felt my lightsaber spear go through it. And suddenly I was alone in the library. Head Archivist, at long last. The history of the Sith...and all it amounts to is one steps forward, four steps back, because no matter how the Sith Empire is organized, it inevitably degenerates into brutality. Cruelty. They end up destroying their gains simply because they cannot help but be cruel, even when it sabotages them in the long term. You eventually realize you don't fully appreciate the reward you supposedly gained in murdering what passed for your only friend, and then you find The Red Ankarres..."

"Red Ankarres?" Adrian asked, pouring the tea.

"There was this woman I met on a road one day. Beautiful. She approaches me, and somehow, she knows I'd been feeling doubt. She wore sunglasses. Black businesswear. She presents me with this light side artifact. A jewel. Red in color. I think it was her blood, crystallized."

"What makes you think it was her blood?" Ellen asked, sipping her tea.

"Hunch. Nothing more. She never gave me her name. I asked, of course, who she was, but all she said about herself was that she was an exile."

"Sounds creepy. Why did you take it?" Ellen asked.

"I had grown weary of The Sith as they were. Disgusted. I felt the Dark Side led nowhere but a needlessly early grave. So I left where I was, and went into seclusion, studying it. I eventually came to the conclusion it was better to twist the Light to one's purpose rather than the Dark. The Jedi, barring their moral handwringing, have the right idea, they lack only the tiny amount of cold blooded shrewdness it would require to help their civilizations they foster actually survive. The actual willingness to put their foot down with their enemies and resort to the harsh methods required to deal with them more decisively. Currently near impossible, given the Plague, but the dirty job must be done all the same...and the temptation of heroism...I must admit...it'll be fascinating to actually experience what that's like, even if it is ultimately limiting."

"How did you come to the conclusion the Light was better?"

"Because the actions of light adepts usually result in net positives. Its their inaction and moral stubborness that hands them their greatest setbacks. Meanwhile every iteration of the Sith Empire plateaus into the same mindless expansion and slavery, only to burn itself out by creating too many enemies, stabbing too many of their own in the back, like I did, and in the end, leaving wasteland worlds in their struggle to survive, only to doom themselves by costly gambits to maintain and restore their power as it fades. Case in point: The second Death Star."

"So why not use the Light the way the Jedi do?" Adrian asked.

"Since I'm going to be training Jedi per our agreement, the question is nigh-moot..." Themis trailed, taking a sip. "But since you asked...I'm going to be teaching them how to use it passively. I will have to teach them to let it guide them rather than the mental control needed to make it twist to their desires. They will learn self sacrifice to the point it threatens to become counter productive. They will learn to be compassionate and merciful to the point it actually 'is' counter productive. They will feel good about themselves, and then reality will strike. A Light Side Sith could never be so patient or compassionate to an enemy or obstacle to a peaceful, just society. A Light Side Sith knows harsh, bloody measures are necessary to fight the Darkness, and while The Jedi I train will not sully their hands as much as I might, make no mistake, they WILL learn to occasionally strike first. Otherwise, I'd just be setting them up for failure."

"You believe all that then why did you agree to it? Is the heroism factor truly that tempting?" Ellen wondered.

"Well...yes..." Themis admitted with a sigh. "It can wear on you after a while...the struggle. You spend so long establishing yourself as a merciless crusader...you start to long for a time when you could stare at a face and not detect hints of fear. It especially sucks to see it in people you would like nothing more than to see as an ally..." she answered, glowering. "So maybe I regard this all as a way of testing just how secure I am in my beliefs..."

Adrian and Ellen both had averted their eyes seconds before she had finished speaking, due to her mentioning fear in the eyes of others. She must have still seen it in them.

"The dirty work, the work we can't do publicly, will be amongst ourselves..." Themis continued after a moment. "Our Jedi will otherwise function as a figurehead...a lightning rod..."

The three continued drinking their tea in silence...


Present day.

It had started out as a way of testing herself, of trying to see it from another perspective. To see if she was right.

But now Themis missed her accidental family more than anything. She would have sacrificed all her knowledge of the Force just to alter their outcome. But it was too late. There was only the cold hard future, and her many, inescapable failures.

Themis almost did not see the ambush in her mind before it happened, so fixed on the memory, but she still managed to dodge, although not entirely, a telekinetically flung piece of shrapnel that split open her shoulder, leaking bright green blood. Her spear shot out as she commanded the Light to do her bidding, blocking the saber strikes of the mutated Weequay Jedi who viciously attacked her with his saber staff, Themis patiently parrying with it, commanding the Light to help her see ahead of his attacks, allowing herself to be driven backward as she fought with him. She looked at her foe's futures. Too far gone in all of them...no salvaging.

Themis forced him away, and with a flick of her wrist, dark green lightning with oddly little glare flashed from the sky and struck the mutated Jedi, killing him instantly.

Six more burst through the walls of nearby buildings, two leaping for her, one of whom she tossed her spear into the chest of, the other, whose limbs were entrapped by the Light she twisted around them, producing a pink blade to decapitate him seconds afterward. One tried to leap for Grayson, only to be hit by the dark green lightning, this time from her hands. He dropped dead at Graysons feet while the remaining two charged at him...