Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ahsoka stepped cautiously into the abandoned home. It was roomy, but plain, and had obviously been sparsely furnished even when occupied. So, this had been Obi-Wan’s home. This is where he had spent years in isolation, looking over Anakin’s son, waiting for the time when Luke would be ready to take on his father’s mantle. Glancing about the dimly lit abode, Ahsoka thought it seemed a terribly lonely existence. One she was not sure she could have ever pulled off. Master Kenobi really was one of the best Jedi to have ever lived. A true embodiment of the Order and its teachings. Ahsoka felt so inadequate in the presence of what had been the old master’s home; her own accomplishments with the Rebellion seemed insignificant compared to the sacrifice Obi-Wan made, and the important ramifications of that sacrifice.

Still, the Togruta didn’t linger on her shortcomings. She had an important task to carry out, after all. Nimbly, she made her way through the debris littered about the floor – scavengers had obviously ventured inside in the past years, rummaging through the home looking for anything of value, leaving a mess – and to the center of the single room. There, finding an empty spot on the ground, she knelt facing the raised kitchen area and prepared for meditation, as though she were a youngling at the temple on Coruscant. She willed her muscles to relax and breathed deeply. Stilling her mind, she reached out to the Cosmic Force with her feelings, searching for the object that had brought her to Tatooine.

She was still in a bit of a shock from having encountered her old mentor’s apparition in the Force a few cycles earlier. Luke Skywalker had told her of these “Force Ghosts” appearing to him and offering guidance, and she was aware of past Jedi Masters communicating with those who had passed before them, but it was always through practiced meditation. She hadn’t known Obi-Wan could materialize out of the ether whenever he seemingly felt like it. It had been a bit unnerving, entering the quarters she shared on the T-6 shuttle with Sabine, to see a glowing, translucent, yet completely present Master Kenobi waiting for her patiently. More unsettling was his message to her: a darkness was brewing in the Force. While the menace of Emperor Palpatine had been eradicated and balance restored due to Anakin’s sacrifice, now, years later, an evil was growing, attempting to fill the void left behind by the Sith Lord. This was not the normal avarice and lust for power of the Moffs and Admirals at play, but a more sinister darkness based firmly in the Force, in the Dark Side.

“You must go to Tatooine,” Obi-Wan had urged. “Find my old settlement, past the northwestern outskirts of Mos Eisley in the Jundland Wastes. There, you will find an artifact that is of great interest to these Dark Ones. I feel they will seek out its power to fuel their cause. I fear I did the wrong thing by not destroying it completely years ago.”

“What is it?” Ahsoka had asked the old master. “What am I to look for?”

“You will know when you see it.” Obi-Wan had stated evasively.

“And what am I to do with this object once I find it? Do I destroy it?”

Obi-Wan had remained quiet for a while, lost in thought. “This you will also judge for yourself when the time comes. But understand this, Ahsoka: whatever you decide to do, this item must not fall into the wrong hands. The consequences could prove disastrous for the entire galaxy!”

“Then why me?” Ahsoka demanded. “Why send me to retrieve such an important artifact? Why not warn Luke, or even Leia? Surely both are far better equipped to deal with the dangers this thing poses. They’re the ones destined to rebuild the Republic. Don’t you think they should be the ones to decide?”

“The Skywalker twins both have their hands full at the moment,” Obi-Wan replied. “Also, do not downplay your own prowess in the Force. Although Luke and Leia are powerful, they yet have much to learn. The experience you possess: both as a soldier and as one of the last remaining people who were taught directly by the Old Order, will prove invaluable in the handling of this item. The components of this artifact are old, dating back to before the start of the Clone Wars. It is of great significance to the Sith, and those who wish to take their place.”

While the Togruta pondered his words, Obi-Wan continued, “In fact,” he cautioned, looking into her face with phantom eyes just as intense as they had been in life, “I urge you to not allow this item near the Skywalkers, especially Leia. They are not prepared for the influence it could hold over their Living Force, and Leia is even more vulnerable in this regard, having received no instruction at all from Master Yoda.”

“Don’t you trust in Luke’s ability to train his sister?” Ahsoka had asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “If you don’t believe he can, how can you entrust the entirety of the Jedi Order’s future to him?”

“It was never my intent to burden Luke with restoring the Jedi Order. He has taken that task onto himself. In fact, Yoda prophesized that the Old Order would essentially die with the Skywalkers. Anakin was the Chosen One,” Obi-Wan said pointedly. “He was the One who would restore balance to the Force, which in the end, he did. His children are tasked now with keeping that balance. Never in that equation has it been factored in that the Jedi Order must continue.”

The conversation with the Jedi Master’s apparition had left Ahsoka feeling unsettled. The thought that the Jedi teachings should die out made her incredibly sad. She was the first person to admit that the Order had its flaws and needed a complete reevaluation of its core principles and teachings in order to avoid pitfalls in the future, but the finality of Master Kenobi’s words were simply too much. How could the Jedi be allowed to vanish from the galaxy? Did not the sacrifices of others who had once been members of the Old Order – Kanan Jarrus, Cere Junda, Quinlan Vos – clearly show that there were redeeming qualities to the Jedi? She had brought her concerns forward to Luke Skywalker once she and Sabine returned to the Core and rendezvoused with the budding New Republic Coalition in order for the young Mandalorian to obtain a new vessel. Sabine had decided to continue her search for Ezra on her own, although Ahsoka had asked her friend to reconsider and wait for her to complete her side-mission.

“Ahsoka,” her friend had said with a sad smile, “do you really believe you will be able to merely find this artifact and be done with it? We both know this undertaking likely has a point of no return. As much as I appreciate your desire to help me find Ezra, you’re a Force user. I may not understand much of how the Force works, but I do know it’s pulling your life in a different direction than mine. I will find Ezra, and I’ll be fine on my own.”

Luke also waved Ahsoka’s misgivings aside. “The Jedi will not end with me,” he assured the Togruta before she departed for his home-world. “Old Ben was right to say that restoring the Order was not my original destiny… but I believe in the Jedi. My father was one. Before dying, my mother entrusted my care and that of my sister to the judgment of Jedi Masters. That doesn’t mean I agree with everything Master Yoda or Obi-Wan decided was best for me, and this is one of those things. The Jedi Order will continue, as much as I can help it. If Obi-Wan thinks it better for you to retrieve this artifact – which seems to be of Sith design, if we interpret Obi-Wan’s message correctly – then so be it; you go with my approval. You can even keep it from me and my sister the way Obi-Wan requested if you feel it to be the best course of action. But don’t lose hope. Do not lose your faith in us, as we will never lose our faith in you.”

So, with all these words clouding her thoughts, it was hard for the Togruta to find inner peace and concentrate now, all alone in the synstone building. She hadn’t the slightest clue as to what she was even looking for, or where to start. “Let the Force guide you,” Obi-Wan had said before disappearing, and Ahsoka attempted to do so now. Releasing her insecurities and doubts, she instead focused on the Cosmic Force around her, flowing like a current, moving around and through the abandoned building. For the most part, she sensed nothing. There was no trace of any other source of the Living Force other than her own, and it interacted delicately with the Cosmic Force of the planet itself.

After a moment, Ahsoka shifted her strategy. Instead of reaching out with her feelings and trying to find an energy source in the Force, she breathed deeply and reined in her Living Force back to her, settling it around her like a shroud, and listened. Listened with more than her montrals, opening herself up to the aura of everything around her, no longer seeking, but receiving whatever messages the Cosmic Force wished to communicate to her.

She began to sense ripples throughout the Cosmic Force. From a great distance away, she could feel the aura of desert creatures that made the Jundland Wastes their home. Wild black melons were growing in a patch up against the southern wall of the abandoned building she was in: Ahsoka could sense that some were ripe and filled with milk, ready for harvesting. A nest of womp rats was beginning to stir in their underground den, less than a klick westward from her location. They were growing restless as the suns of Tatooine set and the sands cooled. They would soon emerge in search of food, once the first sun had completely set behind the dunes. Further west still, she could sense a lone scurrier running through the dunes, away from the womp rat nest. Perhaps it had caught their odor. It paused briefly to scent-mark its territory before continuing its journey.

Aside from this passive energy of the non-sentient lifeforms on Tatooine, Ahsoka thought she could sense a darker presence, an evasive shadow just beyond the reach of her perception. Luke had warned her of the Tusken Raiders of Tatooine, although he hadn’t had to: their hostile reputation was well known throughout the galaxy. Ahsoka was aware that they inhabited the Jundland Wastes, but she wasn’t sure that the aura she felt was from their kind. As angry and aggressive as the presence felt, there was also something uniquely familiar about it… something the Togruta couldn’t yet place. It remained far away, much further than anything else she could perceive through the Force, but for the life of her, she couldn’t pinpoint its approximate physical distance, or even in what direction it lay. Since it posed no real threat to her at the moment, Ahsoka ignored it and tried to feel for anything closer to her.

Eventually, after sifting through the dull buzz of life around her, the Togruta felt a quiet hum. It was coming from the kyber crystals in the two lightsabers at her hips. Softly, the crystals seemed to sing. As they had done years before, when she first acquired them, they appeared to be calling her attention with their song. However, unlike that time, when she rescued them from the Sixth Brother’s possession, they now were resonating not to her unique Force signature, but rather to someone – or something – else in the vicinity. Ahsoka had always trusted the will of the Force and knew these crystals in her weapons were more than mere tools: they were, in a sense, her friends and partners who often facilitated her communication with and understanding of said will. Gingerly, she reached down to the saber hilts sheathed at her sides and touched them.

Instantly, the gentle song rose in intensity inside her head: her crystals were almost wailing, crying out a lament, akin to a hymn. They were sensing the pain of another, and by touching them, Ahsoka could suddenly feel it as well. It was a dark pain, twisted in anger and spite. The fury was contained, however, and weak, as though coming from a wounded animal. Ahsoka immediately understood that this sentiment was stemming from the object she had been sent to find. Unsheathing her sabers and rising to her feet, with her eyes still closed, the Togruta ignited her blades. Following her instincts, she began to sway on the spot, holding her lightsabers before her at arm’s length, and slowly went through the basic movements of combat taught to all Jedi. She cycled through them deliberately, allowing the crystals in her blades to resonate with the Force around her, trusting them to guide her in the correct direction.

The song of her sabers wept but did nothing to connect with the hidden artifact further. Ahsoka was going through the motions of Shii-Cho, the most elementary form of combat taught to Padawans, and now transitioned over to Form II, Makashi. She admittedly wasn’t that great at it, and her sabers even seemed to protest against the unfamiliar arcs she made with her movements, so she then continued with Soresu. Again, nothing different happened, and she had no more clue as to where the artifact could be. It was the same even after she settled into the moves of Ataru and Shien, her two favored combat styles. She could feel the dark power emanating from the hidden item but was no closer to finding its location. As she moved into Form VI, Nieman, she feared there would be nothing she could do to locate what she was looking for.

In the end, there was only one form left for her to try: Juyo. Unfortunately – or perhaps quite fortunately indeed – Ahsoka had never been trained in such a form, or even its Jedi variant: Vaapad. It was well-known to be a Sith technique, and only two Masters – Mace Windu and his former Padawan, Depa Billaba – had been known to practice it at all. In fact, it was Master Windu who had developed the Vaapad version of Form VII, and he had been very selective of who he passed his teachings on to. Ahsoka had seen Juyo in action a few times: always in Dark Side users. Although she had been able to hold her own against the technique when used against her, it had been very taxing on her – both physically and mentally. She didn’t even know how to go about employing such a technique: it was so violent, almost hateful.

Instead, Ahsoka poured her trust and energy into her white blades once more, purposefully choosing to forgo any more preset jurus and rather let her movements flow freely in tari. Delicately, as though dancing, she twirled her sabers, rotating them from her reversed handgrip to the more traditional forward one, bringing them up over her head and forward as she did so. The two blades gently touched against one another before her face, in an x-pattern. The crackle of the two beams of light touching sent a shiver down her spine, seemed to ripple through the floor from her feet. Behind her, to her left, she sensed an echo of that sizzle; it was not audible, for it was more of a phantom sound perceived only through the Force. The artifact was reacting to the possibility of two sabers clashing in combat: Ahsoka could discern that conflict had whet its appetite.

Calmly, the Togruta opened her eyes and turned to the direction from where she had felt the reaction. In that corner of the room was a small table that no doubt once held items on display. Now, the table was barren and dusty, and the things once placed atop it so carefully by Obi-Wan were strewn about broken on the floor around it. Although the tabletop was empty, there was no mistaking that the artifact was located in the exact same place as the table. Ahsoka felt it as clearly as though it were resting on the slab of synstone. Sheathing her sabers once more, Ahsoka walked over to where the table sat and squatted before it. Perhaps the object was under the counter?

Peering underneath the table, all Ahsoka could see was some scattered rubble and earthen floor. Pushing some of the broken objects aside and touching the ground with a splayed hand, she pushed down lightly with the Force. The dirt floor trembled, and this time, she clearly felt something beneath the surface respond to her aura: a shock of heat and rage that reverberated up her arm. Ahsoka pulled her hand away quickly, as though burned. Whatever this object was, it seemed to have a temperament of its own. In that instant, she had sensed frustration, agony, despair, all boiling together into a stew of hatred aimed at nothing in particular and at everything simultaneously. At her hips, both her lightsabers hummed in sorrow once more. And all at once, Ahsoka understood what the hidden artifact was, or at least, what it housed: a kyber crystal, bled by the Sith.

The Togruta had encountered bled kyber crystals before, sure. Countless times, during various encounters with the reemergent Sith during the span of the Clone Wars, and afterwards when encountering the Inquisitorius during the time of the Empire. For the most part, she had never sensed any true emotions from the blades of her opponents; to be quite honest, the last thing she had been trying to do then was try to commune with her enemy’s weapons. Those scarlet sabers, much like those of the Jedi, were an extension of the user, and she had been too occupied in dealing with the wielders to try to separate them from their armaments. The only time she had ever sensed the kyber crystals in an opponent’s weapon was when she found the crystals housed in her current lightsabers. Despite being in the presence of the Inquisitor who was wielding them at the time, Ahsoka had clearly heard their sad song call out to her, and she knew they were meant for her. It was why they cried out to her. However, this was possibly the first time she was encountering a Sith weapon without its user. She had never given it much thought but had naturally assumed that other kyber crystals that had been bled by Dark Side adherents for their own use must of course also wish to be purged of their evil influence, as hers had. Not so with this particular crystal. Its rejection of her Light Side aura was palpable, and the waves of Force energy it emitted now as in warning felt venomous to her. She understood why Obi-Wan had asked her to keep this object away from Anakin’s children. For a moment, she felt a twinge of fear in her chest.

Stubbornly, she pushed the sentiment aside and set her jaw before reaching down to the ground once more and pushing at the soil that made up the floor, casting it away with the Force. You will come to me! she told the buried artifact, pulling it up towards her despite the waves of burning hatred that now were clearly emanating from it.

The floor shifted and groaned, the hard-packed sand that made up the ground splitting and heaving as whatever was beneath it moved to the surface. Ahsoka could feel the item fighting her, which surprised her: she had never heard of a weapon having an agency of its own. In the end, however, the Togruta was successful, and she soon saw a metal case poke up through the earthen floor. With a final Force-yank, the thing was in her hands, and as though in a final act of defiance, the coffer flew to her with such strength, it knocked hard against her stomach and threw her back several meters. The display table, too, was tossed aside and split asunder. Ahsoka felt as though she had been drop-kicked by a Wookiee. With the air knocked out of her, she continued to clutch at the strongbox now in her hands as she heaved for breath. She could feel whatever was inside the small metal chest practically vibrating in protest, and it was a while before the Togruta could sit up and truly examine the case in her lap.

It was a long, slender durasteel box, hermetically sealed and locked electromagnetically, from what Ahsoka could see. The long years it obviously spent buried in the sand had not done much to damage the surface, likely due to the alkaline nature of the soil of Tatooine. There was a minute amount of corrosion on the lid of the coffer, especially around the hinges, but other than that, it was very well preserved. Frowning, she tilted the box up to study the locking mechanisms more closely. It was definitely a magseal, which could prove to be a problem. Most magnetic seals could only be bypassed by disabling the electrical feed that powered the lock. A skilled Force user might be able to do so, but it would take a long time and would be extremely taxing. Shooting the lock wouldn’t work either, as laser blasts would bounce right off the electromagnetic field. Even most Jedi didn’t like dealing with magseals and would simply cut through the locks with their lightsabers, but with such a small variant, Ahsoka worried she might damage the contents of the case.

She was quite good at working around various mechanisms, though, and she was sure she’d figure something out. However, the light from outside was fading fast as the first sun of Tatooine was already more than halfway set. It would become dark soon, and she needed to set up proper shelter. She hadn’t planned on staying in the abandoned hut, seeing as how there was no power, and therefore no real way to secure herself in. She wasn’t afraid of what creatures roamed the sands of Tatooine at night, or even worried about the territorial Sand People. However, now that she had the artifact in her possession – albeit in a sealed metal strongbox – she couldn’t help but remember the urgency in Obi-Wan’s tone as he pushed her to find and take the item with her before anyone else could. The thing had begun openly radiating dark energy from the moment the coffer ended up in her hands. The Togruta felt she had awakened some dormant dangerous thing that hadn’t meant to be disturbed, and likely hadn’t wanted to be. Now that it was active, she could sense its dark power pulsing in waves outward through the Force. Maybe those who were not Force-sensitive could not feel it, but she couldn’t be sure. It was rumored that Krayt dragons – non-sentient as they were – could utilize the Force to some extent. Would these apex predators be attracted to the thing inside the box? If they were, the small synstone abode would crumble like so much sand that made up the dunes around it. She had hoped to be back in civilization – if Mos Eisley could be called civilized – before nightfall. Brutes, drunkards, thieves and assassins she could handle. Gigantic Force-sensitive desert reptiles… she wasn’t too sure.

Ahsoka calculated the distance she needed to travel back to Mos Eisley – approximately 200 klicks – and had to admit that even if going at full speed, she would not reach the spaceport by nightfall. Travelling at night on Tatooine was essentially a death wish, so the Togruta decided to set up camp in the hut after all, and went about using the little time she had before the dark and cold took over the planet to gather what supplies and food she could. Placing the durasteel coffer back under the ruins of the display table, she went outside and brought her rented speeder up against the building and used it to block the front door. She took her supplies off it while she was at it. She wasn’t carrying much: just her white cloak, staff and a satchel with tools. Still, she didn’t want to risk anyone coming along and taking her things. Jawas were notorious thieves, and she knew the sneaky little things travelled the entirety of the desert lands. She hefted her small pack onto her back and tucked the robe in under the straps. Afterwards, she went around to the south side of the building and picked those melons she had sensed earlier. She didn’t have much preference for fruits or vegetables – her species was carnivorous by nature – but the black desert melons of Tatooine weren’t too bad. The milk was mildly sweet and the fibrous flesh, although bland, was filling and nutritious. Her master, Anakin, had been fond of them, and often claimed they were the only worthwhile thing, aside from his mother, to come from the planet of his birth.

Once back inside, she checked out the space heater in the small kitchen, but of course it no longer worked. This was probably the reason it hadn’t been taken by scavengers. She would have to make do with her white robe as sufficient cover against the night chill, unless she found something with which to make a fire. Fortunately, she found a wooden storage chest – broken and ransacked, as much of the things in the abandoned home were – laying on its side among the junk. She pulled it across the room, towards a small alcove in the wall. In the rounded nook there was a raised synstone section, long and wide enough to accommodate three people to sit side-by-side, or two to lay in. Ahsoka was sure this had been used as a bed, for it was still covered with an old, worn-out, make-shift mattress, which was really just some kind of animal hide on top of a heap of dried grass. The Togruta patted it down before sitting in it, scattering bits of the hay and making a few shiny brown beetles scurry out of the bedding. She removed her backpack and placed it and the rolled-up robe on the bed, then collapsed her white staff and lay it beside her other things. Satisfied, she cleared the area around the bed and began to break the wooden chest into useable chunks of firewood. She took some of the Poonten grass from the mattress for kindling and soon had a small campfire going. Not a moment too soon, it seemed, for she could see through the tiny windows across the room that things had gotten significantly darker outside. The inside of the old abode had been rather dim as it were, with no electricity of any kind, but with the sunlight gone, if the Togruta hadn’t found a way to make a fire, she would have been left in pitch darkness.

With a sigh, Ahsoka went over to where she’d left the durasteel coffer hidden underneath the rubble and fished it back out. She could feel the crystal inside vibrate in protest, but it was a softer hum now, almost resigned. She took the case back over to the niche in the wall and sat cross-legged on the bed, carefully placing it beside her. She wasn’t sure what to do with the Sith artifact, and she supposed she wouldn’t be able to make a decision unless she knew what it was. The nights on Tatooine weren’t long, but Ahsoka didn’t want to wait until daybreak to try and open the strongbox. She grabbed her satchel and rummaged around it briefly, taking out a multi-tool utility vibroblade. She also grabbed magnifying goggles and slipped them on, adjusting their intensity to where she could make out the electromagnetic seal mechanism clearly despite the flickering light of the fire. Finally ready, the Togruta took the coffer into her lap and set to work.

She was surprised at how little difficulty she had at disabling the electrical feed of the lock; she spent scarcely a few minutes tampering with the seal at most before she felt it begin to give. She assumed the same alkaline levels of the desert sands that had preserved the metal box had also weakened the magnetic mechanism of the lock. She managed to crack it open without even having to cut through the actual latch itself. Ahsoka was rather pleased, but also uncomfortably aware at how easily the item could have fallen into another’s hands. Knowing that Obi-Wan may have boobytrapped the metal case, Ahsoka hesitated before opening it fully. She decided to set it on the floor, away from the bed and fire, and took a deep breath and held it before cracking it open quickly with the tip of her vibroblade and stepping back, as though something venomous might leap out to attack her from within.

When nothing happened after a few seconds, the Togruta ventured back to the open box and risked a peek inside. There, nestled carefully in folds of brown fabric, what appeared to be a wooden stick poked out. Ahsoka blinked in confusion. Of all the things she had expected to find, this was certainly not it. How could a wooden cane be dangerous? And how did anyone manage to house a kyber crystal inside it? Better yet: why?

Gingerly, she picked up the strongbox and took it back to the bed, setting it on the edge so the light from the fire could illuminate it better. Still cautious, she picked at the rough fabric covering the item and unwrapped it. When the object was finally exposed and in plain view, Ahsoka felt the knot of apprehension in her stomach drop into the pit of her abdomen and settle there like lead.

This was a weapon she had seen before, had crossed blades with, actually, and she felt a bit foolish for not having recognized it the moment she had laid eyes on that bit of exposed cane material. It was Maul’s saberstaff.

She and Darth Maul had history that dated back to the end of the Clone Wars. In fact, they had been aboard the same vessel when the Zabrak’s former master, the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious had initiated Order 66, which began the eradication of nearly the entirety of the Jedi. Both she and Maul had become targets of the Clone Troopers, although neither were in the Jedi Order. Palpatine wanted no one who could rival his power to remain alive, and in the ensuing struggle, Ahsoka had been forced to release the Dathomirian Nightbrother in order to have enough of a diversion for her and her friend Rex to escape with their lives. She hadn’t counted on the former Sith’s vengeful power, however, for he cut a swath of death and destruction inside the ship, felling many of the Clone Troopers who had once been her friends, and ultimately bringing down the entire Star Destroyer by ripping out the hyperdrive using only the Force. To say they had left on poor terms didn’t even begin to cover it.

Afterwards, years later, she’d run into him again on Malachor, the site of an ancient Sith temple. Here, they had faced off in combat again, and he made it rather clear that he still considered her an enemy and would like nothing more than to eradicate her along with whoever else he had on his long list of vendettas. It was here that she had encountered this strange weapon, which he had crafted from the remnants of the blades of fallen Inquisitors.

Double-bladed lightsabers, or saberstaffs, were a rarity among Force users. That she had known of, aside from the Temple Guards (whose weapons were passed down since ancient times), only two Jedi Masters – Pong Krell and Jaro Tapal – had learned to craft such weapons. The Empire’s Inquisitors also used double-bladed lightsabers, but they were all identical, obviously manufactured en masse, and they often malfunctioned on their wielders or broke easily in combat. These weapons were tricky to construct, for they required two kyber crystals: one for each blade. Getting one crystal to resonate to a person’s aura was tricky enough, let alone two. On top of this, they had to be calibrated to reverberate with each other as well, and not all crystals were compatible in this way. Now that she thought on it, the fact that Maul was able to not only assemble this version of a lightsaber once, but at least two times, was remarkable.

Ahsoka stared quietly at the weapon in the box for a long time, lost in thought. She could see that it was broken, cut in two. Judging by the clean cut down the middle of the hilt, and the charring that was present, she surmised Obi-Wan’s blade had been the one to slice it in half. The cane sheath was still in one piece, and the way the entire thing had been placed inside the box denoted great care and respect had gone into locking it away. She wondered how the old Jedi Master had come across the weapon, although from what she knew of Maul, she could certainly guess.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” a voice commented from the center of the room. Ahsoka nearly jumped out of her skin, and she slammed the long durasteel box shut and clutched it against her chest, defensive. She had been so engrossed in the weapon that she hadn’t noticed anyone’s approach. Upon seeing her visitor, she visibly relaxed. Well, there was no way she could have heard this person approach. There, on the other side of the small fire, stood the ghostly apparition of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Goodness, Master,” the Togruta said with a sigh of relief. She sat back in the bed and grinned at the ghost of her old friend. “Your house is a mess.”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, making his way over to the alcove and sitting down beside her. Ahsoka noticed he walked around the fire, but part of his robes went right through the flames. The light flickered, but aside from that, the campfire was undisturbed. The Force was truly a fascinating thing.

“Yes, well, I assure you, it wasn’t always so,” the old Jedi replied. He looked around the room and smiled. “I tended well to this place during my stay here. It was a good home.”

“It’s a shame that it has fallen into such disrepair,” Ahsoka mused, looking around as well. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, home is not a place,” Obi-Wan replied serenely. “It’s a feeling. And I have moved beyond the living realm.”

Ahsoka was suddenly filled with many questions regarding the afterlife. She was curious about the Netherworld of the Force, and how it was possible that Obi-Wan had come back from it. Was the Netherworld his home now? Did he even need a home?

However, all those questions could wait. She had other, more pertinent ones. Namely about the saberstaff in her lap.

“Obi-Wan…” she began, unsure of where to start.

“You wish to know how I came upon this weapon?”

“Well, I can guess how…” the Togruta said with a shrug. “But I am curious as to what happened to its wielder. What happened to Maul? You fought him, didn’t you?”

The old Jedi Master paused and looked thoughtfully at the box in Ahsoka’s lap. He finally looked up at her and said solemnly: “The Sith that was Darth Maul is dead.”

Ahsoka nodded quietly. Of course, she had figured as much, from the moment she had laid eyes upon the weapon. “Sabine told me about what the Specters went through, after I parted ways with them on Malachor. Maul not only tried to kill them all, but also coerced Ezra into performing some type of ceremony where their minds became linked. He used the combined power of the Jedi and Sith holocrons to find you. Sabine said Ezra accidentally led him to you, and that the last he had seen of him, he was about to confront you in the desert.”

“Sadly, Darth Maul never grew beyond his resentment for the world,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Despite learning from the holocrons of a prophecy that involved me, he was willing to throw everything away, for the sake of personal revenge. It was petty, to put it mildly.”

“Why did you keep this?” Ahsoka suddenly asked, motioning to the coffer on her lap.

Obi-Wan sighed. It was a moment before he spoke. “My history with Darth Maul goes back much further than yours,” he said at last. “As you know, he was the one to kill my master on Naboo. During the instances we clashed over the course of the Clone Wars, we never ceased to try to destroy each other. You could say it allowed us both to grow as warriors, knowing the other was out there still. However, ultimately… I suppose I held a type of respect for him. Seeing the threat that he was come to an end made me recognize that he had been a formidable foe. I believe I’ve told you of my perspective regarding his true constitution.”

“You once told me, when I was still a Padawan, that you believed he never had a real choice in his life, that his destiny was set in motion from nearly the moment he was born,” Ahsoka said, nodding. “His fate was decided from the start by both the Nightsisters and later Sidious.”

“I still hold that belief.”

“Even after he killed Duchess Satine?”

“Yes, Ahsoka,” the Jedi phantom replied. “I can almost guarantee that Satine’s death plagued Maul more than it ever did me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I could see it,” Obi-Wan replied with a sad shake of his head. “There was a haunted look in his eyes when we last faced each other on this very planet.”

The two were quiet for a few minutes, Ahsoka opening the coffer again and staring at the weapon in her lap, Obi-Wan gazing into the small fire. Each were lost in their own thoughts of the past, connected only through the memory of the Zabrak who had been an adversary to them both.

“So,” the Togruta began at last, “you kept his weapon sealed away to… honor him?”

“In a sense, I suppose so,” Obi-Wan replied. “Honoring the rivalry more so than the man, certainly. For all the pain and damage he caused in my life – starting with him felling my master, whom I saw as a father – he must have viewed me in the same manner. When our paths converged on Naboo all those decades ago, the resulting fallout was a turning point for both of us. And, if we’re being honest, he probably got the short end of the stick in that match. Perhaps there was a sense of guilt in my actions as well, in keeping that lightsaber,” he nodded to the durasteel box in the Togruta’s lap. “Maybe I wanted to honor his existence in some way because no one ever had.”

Ahsoka remained silent, contemplating the broken saberstaff. She still hadn’t dared to touch the weapon, and now she ventured to gently run a finger over the material of the cane sheath. She could sense the crystals within the two pieces of hilt buzz hotly through the Force.

“As I told you earlier,” Obi-Wan continued, “that may have been a mistake on my part. The Sith may be eradicated at long last, with the death of the Emperor, but this evil brewing in the Force is not to be taken lightly.”

“But Master,” Ahsoka began with a slight frown. “This saber is broken. Even if someone were to take the crystals inside, I doubt they would be able to replicate the actual weapon. Lightsabers in staff form are exceedingly difficult to assemble.”

“Those kyber crystals are bound to the ancient dark power of the Sith,” the ghostly apparition said. “They may not submit to another’s hand to be crafted into a weapon, but they are a powerful beacon to other elements of that cursed religion.”

“A beacon…” Ahsoka mused, tilting her head as she thought over the old master’s words. “You mean that they can be used to find Sith holocrons or other artifacts?”

“This is how I believe Maul ended up on Malachor to begin with,” Obi-Wan said with a nod. “Of course, he already knew of the Sith temple there – he had likely visited the place before, as an apprentice to Darth Sidious. But there are many ancient temples throughout the galaxy core and beyond, and all hold their secrets. A hidden holocron is not so easily found unless one has the right tools to find it.”

“Which is why you told me this cannot fall into the wrong hands,” Ahsoka concluded. “Those hands being who, exactly? The last remnants of the Empire have finally admitted defeat after the Battle of Jakku. Even the few factions of Moffs that refused to surrender have fled past the Outer Rim for the most part. You mentioned that the danger comes from the Dark Side, but I cannot think of anyone other than the Imperial Armada who still had any ties to Emperor Palpatine.”

“There are other adherers to the Dark Side than those of Sidious’s lineage,” Obi-Wan said, thoughtfully stroking his beard.

“You mean a sect other than the Sith?” the Togruta asked, furrowing her brow slightly. “I was under the impression that Palpatine had eradicated any Force-sensitive factions he couldn’t assimilate into his Inquisitorius Program, even if they aligned with the Dark Side.”

“The galaxy is vast,” Obi-Wan countered, “to attempt to eviscerate any and all those strong in the Force was an ambitious and ultimately impossible undertaking. In order to be successful, the Emperor would have needed to focus all of his own powers continuously on this one goal alone, rendering him useless as a monarch. This is why so many slipped through the cracks, including you, my dear.”

“So many?” Ahsoka asked, a bit affronted. “The Cosmic Force went heavy and silent with so much death after Order 66 was enacted,” she said. “Those of us who remained lived in constant fear, suppressing our Living Force as best we could in order to remain undetected! You were one of those, Master! Where there had once been thousands of beacons in the Cosmic Force, I now sense hardly any! There may be even less than a hundred of us left.”

“Possibly,” the apparition agreed with a sad nod. “I did not mean to downplay the atrocities the Empire committed. I felt the death and sorrow permeate throughout the Force as well, and you are right to suggest that the fabric of existence was never the same afterward. However, compared to what Palpatine’s original intent was, you must admit that he failed spectacularly. It is why, in the grand scheme of things, the Empire’s duration was actually quite short. And thankfully, the Sith failed in their quest for galactic conquest and crumbled into oblivion. Now, we just need to make sure the Sith stay dead.”

“You believe that by using the crystals in this weapon, some may try to revive the cult?”

“There are already other Dark Side groups coming forward from the shadows in order to take the Emperor’s place, as Luke has begun to discover. I do not get the sense that they are very organized at the moment, but if given access to Sith artifacts such as this one, they may be able to use some of the knowledge they find to give rise to something just as sinister as were the Sith Lords. Remember, just as the Jedi Order had the largest wealth of knowledge of the Light Side of the Force, so too did the Sith amass techniques and lore for the Dark Side.”

“Maul himself was on a quest for knowledge when we encountered him on Malachor,” Ahsoka agreed, gazing down upon the cleaved saberstaff. “He wanted to destroy the Sith… but simultaneously was delving deeper into their philosophies and methods. His mind was so twisted by that point, I don’t even think he recognized the irony.”

Ahsoka continued to quietly look down upon the broken weapon in her lap and tried to gently prod at the crystals within with her Living Force. They resisted her, sending small waves of disdain and hate in her direction, but she also sensed something else from them: fear. Did they feel threatened by her presence? She supposed they were at her mercy at the moment, vulnerable. The crystals in her own sabers hummed their melancholy song in her head. “Master,” she asked without looking up. “Do you think it is possible for me to purge these crystals as I did my own?”

When she didn’t receive a reply, the Togruta finally looked up. The apparition of the dead Jedi Master was gone, and she was once again alone in the derelict hut. Ahsoka sighed wearily. As unnerving as it was for her to receive Obi-Wan’s sudden unannounced visits, it was equally annoying when he departed, for he apparently had a habit of doing so just as abruptly.

The ex-Jedi Padawan looked back down at the weapon in the metal case with a frown. The more she thought things over, the more one aspect of Obi-Wan’s original warning struck her as odd. He had mentioned to her that the artifact she was to find in his hut was old, from before the time of the Clone Wars. However, she was quite sure that the Zabrak Sith had constructed this particular saber after Order 66 had been enacted. Had Obi-Wan made a mistake? She somehow doubted it. Unless he had been referring to another item in the house. Still, that made no sense either, for he would certainly have told her as much when he was sitting beside her just moments ago. Ahsoka still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what to do with Darth Maul’s broken saberstaff. She should probably try to destroy the thing, if it was as dangerous as Master Kenobi made it out to be. However, she hesitated to do so. As ridiculous as it sounded even in her own mind, she felt sorry for the bled crystals inside. She supposed pity had also been what stayed Obi-Wan’s hand years ago, although he claimed it had more to do with guilt.

Seeing as how she felt wide awake and felt too much on edge to sleep any time soon, Ahsoka decided she should at least try to retrieve the crystals from within the grip pieces. When she first acquired her crystals, she had simply pulled them to her using the Force, causing the hilt of the rotating saber they were housed in to explode, killing the original wielder. They had come to her effortlessly, almost eagerly: so keen had they been to be liberated from the dark influence surrounding them. These crystals however, rejected her attempts completely, made no secret of their hatred and evil power. They didn’t want to be purged, which she felt left her with no alternative but to destroy them. Remembering the death of the Sixth Brother, the Togruta felt it best if she didn’t try to obtain the encased crystals using the Force. She had hours before daybreak anyway. She reached for her utility vibroblade again and readjusted her goggles, then took a deep breath before finally reaching into the strongbox and grasping one half of the hilt firmly.

The reaction was immediate: Ahsoka felt immense pain radiate up her arm and into her head. It was as though magma were pouring into her skull, making red and orange spots burst behind her scrunched eyes. She almost dropped the hilt back into the coffer, but instead dropped her vibroblade back onto the bed. In that moment, the crystals in her sabers shrieked, and with her free hand, Ahsoka made a grab for one of her own sabers still clipped at her belt.

She felt as though her body were being torn asunder. The hilt of her saber grew red-hot in her clenched fist and her weapons literally buzzed aloud, trembling with the strain. Her own kyber crystals were trying to aid her in subduing the wretched Sith weapon, and over the crackle of the bonfire, Ahsoka could hear the sizzling hiss of the bled crystals in both pieces of the hilt straining and protesting against her touch. The Togruta was afraid her own kyber crystals would shatter inside her sabers. This battle was not truly hers, but theirs: she was merely the conduit that channeled the energies between them.

After what seemed like hours to her, the bled crystals finally began to ebb their flow of hatred into her, and she was able to open her eyes. Judging by the look of the campfire, not much time had actually passed – scarcely a few minutes at most. The wooden crate acting as firewood had not been consumed much more by the flames. Ahsoka was exhausted, completely drained of energy. Her left arm was sore from the strain of clinging to the black metal half-hilt of the Sith Lord’s old weapon, and her right fist was clenched so tightly around her own saber’s handle, that she didn’t think she’d be able to uncurl her stiff fingers to release it. Her head was pounding horribly, and the spots in her vision wouldn’t go away, even with her eyes open. She fully agreed with Obi-Wan now: the Skywalker twins should never come into contact with such a dreadful thing. In fact, no Force user ever should. Her mind brought forward memories of the Dathomirian Zabrak, recalling how easily he had wielded this very staff. His movements had been aggressive, but effortless, even being able to twirl it one-handed while he brandished the cane-sheath in his other hand to use as a bludgeon. How in the universe had he managed that‽

Panting slightly, Ahsoka placed the broken piece of hilt back into the strongbox. She was almost afraid to touch the other half, but figured she had no other choice. Readjusting her grip on her own lightsaber, she steeled herself before reaching over and taking the other half firmly in her hand.

To her surprise, not much happened, other than a rueful shock of heat running up her arm, making her joints ache. It seemed that dominating one crystal meant she had subdued them both, and now the two halves grudgingly allowed her to hold them. The Togruta took a deep, steadying breath before releasing her own saber and letting it rest beside her on the mattress of grass. She silently thanked both her crystals for their aid and tried to focus her attention back to the split weapon before her.

Her vision was still spotty, and she was exceedingly tired, but she was nothing if not stubborn, and she had already resolved to dismantle at least one of the hilt halves in order to take the crystal inside. She blinked a few times to clear her vision. When that didn’t work immediately, she scooted back further on the bed and leaned her back against the wall of the alcove. The synstone was smooth and cool, and had she not just felt the burning of a thousand fires inside her body from wresting control over the Sith weapon, she would have likely been chilled to the bone at the touch. Now, though, it was a most welcome sensation. With a satisfied sigh, Ahsoka nestled up against the wall and allowed her eyes to close.

She snapped them open a few seconds later, having heard a thumping sound from outside. The walls of Master Kenobi’s home were about a meter thick, and the hard-packed synstone – although not a good insulator – did act as a good buffer for sound. Someone or something was wandering around outside the building, and obviously didn’t care much for stealth. With a feeling of dread, Ahsoka’s mind raced to the Krayt dragons the region was known for, and realized with a groan that by attempting to tame the two bled kyber crystals, she must have sent out a Force signature so strong, it had probably been felt from several klicks away.

She hurriedly removed her googles from her face and let them dangle by the straps around her neck, rubbing at her eyes to make the light motes quit dancing in her vision. She needed to be completely alert. She then unclipped her other lightsaber from her belt and instead strapped the broken halves of the Sith saberstaff in their place at her hips: they’d be easier to keep track of than if she packed them back in the metal case. The Togruta quickly gathered her remaining things and crammed them into her rucksack – including her walking staff and the cane sheath – before grabbing her two sabers and getting off the bed. She knew she needed to get out of the house but was unsure of which door to use. The sound she had heard outside had seemed to be just on the other side of the wall she was leaning on, which meant her unwelcome visitor was on the northern side of the hut. The front door – where she had parked her speeder – was on the eastern wall, which meant exiting through there might leave her in plain sight of whatever was out there. She decided to use the back door, along the south side of the building, and hope to sneak around to her speeder before she was detected. She donned her white robe to guard against the cold and hoisted her pack onto her back. She didn’t bother putting out the fire on her way out.

Ahsoka paused briefly in the open doorway before stepping outside. The three moons above were nearly full, offering her better visibility than she had had indoors. However, sight was not particularly a Togruta’s strong point: hearing was. Despite her splitting headache which stubbornly lingered on, Ahsoka was able to use her specialized montrals to form a spatial map of sorts of the surrounding area, taking in every vibration in the vicinity. Now that she was outside though, everything was eerily silent, and the ex-Jedi began to wonder if she had imagined the entire thing, perhaps as an after-effect of her strain against the Sith weapon. However, as she crept silently along the wall towards the front of the house, she distinctly heard the ponderous thumping sound again: this time, from the western end of the building. Those were definitely footsteps. From something heavy.

Clenching her jaw, the Togruta turned to look behind her, holding her lightsaber hilts at the ready position of Shien. She didn’t think lightsabers would do much against a Krayt dragon, but she wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

As though sensing her disposition, the footsteps hesitated slightly before continuing. Ahsoka was surprised to see a much smaller shadow than she had anticipated round the corner of the synstone building. What’s more, it was humanoid in shape, and as the intruder rounded the corner fully and emerged into the light of the moons, Ahsoka was able to make out its features more clearly.

He was as tall as she was at her montrals, with wide shoulders and a lean build, definitely masculine. His countenance was grotesque and unnatural, but upon a closer look, Ahsoka could see he was wearing a mask of some sort. His bulging eyes were in reality just protruding cylindrical goggles, and his gaping hole of a mouth was some type of filtration mechanism. He had no nose to speak of. Several spikes were poking out of his skull, and from the distance she was at, Ahsoka thought they looked like horns. All this mess of a face was swathed in strips of leather and fabric, which somehow held everything together. His entire outfit was ragged and hued in various shades of tans and browns, which under the light of the moons made him blend into his surroundings. In his hands, he carried a long metal club of some sort with a bent end, and a firearm was strapped to his back – Ahsoka could see the barrel poking out over his shoulder.

Oh, well. She supposed she would rather face off against Sand People over a Krayt dragon any day.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka stared at the Tusken Raider before her without a word, her stance at the ready, but not yet igniting her sabers. She wanted to avoid conflict if she could help it, seeing as how she still felt a bit unsteady after her taming of the Sith weapon. She was almost at the southeastern corner of the abandoned building by then and considered making a dash for her speeder parked up front. However, she couldn’t be sure if this Tusken warrior was alone or merely acting as a scout for a larger group. Luke had told her they rarely wandered the desert on their own, being a closely-knit tribal species. Furthermore, even if she managed to make it to her speeder bike and leave, that cycler rifle on the Raider’s back was a well-known long-range weapon: primitive, but effective. She’d be easy to pick off as she fled.

The two contemplated one another for a moment, and then with a grunt, the Tusken Raider began to walk towards her, his metal club held firmly in two hands before him. Ahsoka heard the heavy thumping against the sand with every step the humanoid took, and she was surprised that he would make such a great amount of noise. Despite the layers of heavy fabric which the Tusken wore, he certainly didn’t look heavyset.

The Togruta quickly pushed the observation aside and took a few steps back, glancing quickly behind her to make sure she wasn’t ambushed.

“I don’t want any trouble,” she called out to the advancing Tusken, lifting one of her arms horizontally in front of her face so he would be able to see the hilt of her weapon clearly. She wasn’t even sure if Sand People could understand Galactic Standard. Even if they did, she didn’t think it would make much of a difference to this one what she said, if her knowledge of them was anything to go by. Tusken Raiders were not known for their clemency.

In reply, the Tusken swung his club out in a sweeping arc towards her, one-handed. He then twirled it fluidly in his gloved hand, slamming the spiked end against the wall of the old hut, sending dust and small chunks of synstone everywhere in a show of power. Ahsoka pursed her lips and reluctantly ignited her blades. No matter how strong he appeared, she knew that the Raider was outmatched. Her weapons would cut through his rudimentary cudgel as though it were made of flimsiplast; his only real threat to her was if he had company. Just in case, Ahsoka knew she had to dispatch him quickly, before he notified the rest of his party.

They ran at each other simultaneously. In the back of her mind, the Togruta wondered if this Tusken was Force-sensitive or had merely stumbled upon her by coincidence. She supposed it didn’t really matter at this point. Just before they reached each other, the Tusken Raider leapt up and spun in mid-air, bringing his club down towards Ahsoka’s head. Caught off guard, the Togruta leapt to the side only just in time, with the spiked end of the bludgeon missing her left montral by centimeters. She had never heard of Sand People fighting in such a disciplined, acrobatic manner. They preferred long-range warfare, using projectiles, and were not very efficient hand-to-hand combatants. They overpowered their victims with brute strength and sheer numbers, but this particular warrior had obviously trained in unarmed fighting. As Ahsoka ducked the short, rapid swings from the Tusken’s club and evaded surprisingly agile kicks, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity in her opponent’s technique, although she couldn’t quite place it. Perhaps she was imagining things due to the pounding in her head, but the rhythm of their movements as they blocked each other’s strikes and counterattacks felt almost like a routine.

Ahsoka had yet to use her lightsabers to try to cut down the Raider, instead using her gauntlets to parry the blows from his weapon when she couldn’t evade them altogether. He was aggressive as his people were known to be, but silent, with the only sounds he produced coming from his heavy breathing as he exerted himself. She had expected that he would have raised a ruckus by now, as Sand People were as noisy as they were territorial, and she had been told that vocalization during combat was common for them. This one was definitely a strange one, to be sure.

The ex-Jedi dodged another strike and countered with a low sweeping kick, causing the Raider to leap into the air once more to avoid getting his feet knocked out from beneath him. When he landed, Ahsoka felt the sand around her own feet shudder with the heavy impact. Something in the back of her mind niggled at her memory, and she had to struggle to keep her focus on the current battle. She leapt away in a series of backflips to allow herself room to breathe and gather herself. She stared long and hard at the Tusken as he observed her in turn, offering a slight nod in acknowledgement of her prowess. He held the long metal club aloft in his right hand and whirled it languidly before holding it steady at a diagonal slant behind him, pointing downward. He stood facing her at the ready, his left foot forward, aligning his body in the direction he prepared to charge.

Ahsoka sucked in a sharp breath as she at last recognized the stance: the Tusken Raider was a practitioner of Juyo. That should have been impossible, unless of course, this wasn’t a real Tusken warrior. Remembering Obi-Wan’s warning – that other adherers to the Dark Side would attempt to take the Sith weapon – the Togruta readied her stance, holding her two lightsabers at her sides in her reversed grip, white blades pointing up behind her to the clear night sky, rivaling the glow of the moons. Her head still pulsed with waves of pain, but she forced herself to push beyond that. At her hips, the halves of the saberstaff seemed to radiate gleefully, as though exhilarated to feel the battling energies of the two combatants. Ahsoka was sure the crystals inside the cursed weapon pieces had much to do with her splitting headache that refused to fade.

She didn’t allow herself any more time to hesitate. Leaning forward, she rushed at her opponent once more, her white robe flapping behind her. The Tusken Raider ran headlong to meet her attack, his club aloft. This time, it was she who leapt into the air at the last possible moment and aimed a kick at the masked face. The Tusken was able to turn his body to the side and avoid a direct hit, although Ahsoka’s boot grazed one of the horn-like protrusions poking out from the strips of fabric and leather. With a growl, the Tusken spun around to face her again and brought his bludgeon up, spinning it as he did so. The former Jedi raised her lightsabers in defense and struck out, intending to cut through the long mace as it rammed towards her face.

She was successful in deflecting the blow, but to her astonishment, her sabers did not slice cleanly through the metal. Instead, she was only able to push back against the attack and in the following instant, her white blades fizzled and crackled before retreating back into their sheaths. Ahsoka was so stunned, she was too late to react as her opponent spun in place and landed a roundhouse kick to her solar plexus. She was thrown back several meters and landed heavily on her back, gasping for breath. She heard the thundering steps again as the Tusken approached her and she rolled over onto her side, struggling to get her bearings before he was upon her. The impact of the fall had been cushioned a bit by the sandy floor, but her rucksack had hitched up behind the back of her skull and crushed her rear lek, sending a shock of pain down her spine and into her brain. The spots in her vision returned and the pounding in her head was almost too much for her to bear. Still gripping her weapons tightly, the weary Togruta threw out a hand and raised two fingers, shoving away from her with the Force in an attempt to keep the Raider from coming any closer, but she wasn’t even sure she was aiming in the correct direction. With relief and satisfaction, she heard the sound of an impact and a grunt as her attacker was knocked back and seemingly landed not-so-gracefully. Ahsoka was glad. She hoped he had slammed against the hard boulders Obi-Wan had used as a partial boundary of sorts at his property’s edge.

No sooner had she barely managed to sit up, however, than the Tusken was sprinting back towards her, seemingly having recovered rapidly from her Force assault. This time the Togruta had no opportunity to push him away again or even defend herself before the Raider was looming over her menacingly. She only just managed to look up at his black silhouette backlit against the moons – those spikes sticking out of the mask looked more and more like a wreath of horns the more she looked at them – before he reached down and grabbed her tightly by the collar of her cloak and roughly hauled her up to her feet. Ahsoka dropped her weapons and grabbed at his forearm with both hands, struggling to wrench his grip off of her, but he held fast. Pulling her towards him, the Tusken brought his masked face close up to hers, peering into her eyes with dark holes that looked like they led to the abyss.

“You should not take things that do not belong to you,” the Tusken Raider said in a low hiss. His Galactic Standard was flawless. Furthermore, there was something chillingly familiar about his voice. Once again, the Togruta tried to organize her muddled thoughts and recognize the humanoid before her, but the bled kyber crystals in the halves of hilt screamed in her head just then, roaring in delight and causing an explosion of pain inside her skull. Ahsoka involuntarily cried out, shutting her eyes tightly and bringing her hands up to clutch at her montrals. Her body went limp and she would have collapsed onto the floor had the Tusken not held her aloft by the fabric of her hooded robe.

She nearly lost consciousness then, but stubbornly clung to the waking world, although she could do nothing to fight off the Tusken warrior. Through the pain, she dazedly felt him hoist her up over his shoulder like a sack of pallies and begin to walk. Ahsoka struggled feebly, but his grip around her waist was like a vice. She vaguely realized he was taking her back inside the hut when she saw the flickering light of the campfire, which still burned merrily, oblivious to the struggle that had just taken place. The Tusken carried her to the alcove and unceremoniously dumped her onto the mattress, taking a seat beside her, in the exact spot where Obi-Wan’s apparition had been less than two hours earlier.

Ahsoka felt him brusquely grab at her belt and realized he was going for the Sith saberstaff pieces still clipped there. In desperation, she took hold of his arm and pulled it towards her, sitting up as she did so. Without thinking, she leaned forward and bit down as hard as she could, sinking her fangs past the layers of fabric and into the flesh beneath. She heard the Tusken roar out a curse in a language she didn’t recognize and in the next instant was nearly blinded by a fresh wave of pain as his other fist made contact against the side of her head. Still, Ahsoka refused to let go, growling like a feral creature and grinding down with her teeth until she tasted the Raider’s blood soaking through his sleeve. The Togruta then felt a surge of dark energy shove her away and she slammed against the rounded wall of the nook. Her suspicions regarding the Tusken’s Force-sensitivity had been confirmed. Snarling, she wrapped her fingers around the cursed weapon segments and unclipped them from her belt, bringing them up to her chest and curling her body around them. She wasn’t sure how powerful this Tusken Raider was, or even how much strength she had left to fight him off, but she knew there was no way she would ever allow the Sith crystals inside to come into his possession. She thought she might have to completely destroy the weapon then and there, even if she lost her life in the process.

The Tusken eyed her from the edge of the bed, as though weighing his options. He was breathing hard, clutching at his wounded arm. Ahsoka noticed with satisfaction that he was bleeding quite profusely. Togrutas had incisors that were extremely sharp, and people on her home world of Shili made good use of them. They were hunters, after all, and before discovering civilization had been quite the ferocious apex predators of the native food chain.

“You certainly can be quite the vicious little thing when you set your mind to it,” the Tusken told her. “Or are the kaiburr already casting their influence over you, I wonder?”

He turned his back to her then, facing the fire and hitching up his sleeve in order to examine his injury better. Ahsoka blinked in confusion. The pounding in her head was so strong by that point, her eyes were watering a bit, and she was beginning to feel nauseous. She couldn’t see straight, much less think. But when she tried to focus, she suddenly did realize that the weapon pieces in her hands were emitting strong currents of dark Force energy.

“If you mean to destroy that,” the Tusken muttered over his shoulder, ripping strips of fabric from his tunic and wrapping them tightly over the lacerations in his arm, “I should forewarn you that you will fail. The kaiburr are too strong for you, and you will lose your life in the attempt.”

The Togruta straightened up a bit from her curled squat on the mattress and leaned her back against the synstone wall. She still clung to the saberstaff pieces, holding them against her bosom and bringing her knees up to her chin protectively. She was feeling delirious from the pain in her cranium, but she could swear she knew the Tusken’s low timbre from somewhere. As she blinked through the unshed tears blurring her vision, she squinted, staring long and hard at the back of the Tusken Raider’s head. No, those spikes poking up from the mask weren’t part of the filtration mechanism… they were horns, made of bone. But that made no sense. None of what was happening made any sense to her. She wondered if the entire thing were a hallucination caused by the crystals. What had the Tusken just called them? Kaiburr. Very similar to the common name, with only a slight difference in the pronunciation. She shut her eyes tightly and opened them after a few seconds, hoping the entire thing had been a feverish dream, but when she looked, the Tusken Raider was still there, sitting at the edge of the bed with his back turned to her. Ahsoka groaned aloud. The light from the fire was now starting to bother her, worsening the throbbing in her skull, like sticking needles in through her eyes.

“I commend you on remaining conscious for such an extended period,” the Tusken commented. Having finished tending to his wound, he finally turned to look back at her, “but you will not last much longer. You must release the kaiburr. They are poisoning you.”

She definitely knew his voice. It had tormented her often when she was younger, in the months immediately following Order 66. But it couldn’t be! The stranger before her couldn’t possibly be –

“Maul…” she muttered, trying to fight through the haze of pain clouding her mind. Now she knew she was most certainly hallucinating. It made sense. After all, she was holding his weapon. Perhaps the kyber crystals inside were having an effect on her, making her imagine him. What she couldn’t discern was why he appeared to her in the garb of the Sand People. Could Sith also return as apparitions to haunt the living? He certainly didn’t look translucent the way Obi-Wan had. The pain in her head wasn’t letting her discern between what was real and what was not. She shut her eyes again with a slight whimper.

She felt movement on the bed and opened her eyes to see the Tusken Raider – if that is what he was, if he was there at all – move towards her. She knew he would try to take the broken hilt pieces again, and she bared her teeth at him, which made him pause.

“If you try to bite me again, I will knock your teeth out of your stupid skull,” he growled menacingly.

Yeah, the blood in her mouth tasted real, so there was that. How fake could he be, if she could wound him? That didn’t mean he was really who he reminded her of. Obi-Wan had told her he’d killed the disgraced Sith Lord. Wasn’t the fact that she found the split saberstaff in the Jedi Master’s home proof enough that Maul was dead? The Tusken also hadn’t claimed to be the Zabrak Nightbrother. If only her skull didn’t feel like it was about to burst. All Ahsoka could do was tighten her grip on the hilt pieces and glare.

Keeping the empty gaze of his mask fixated on her, the Raider slowly extended his bandaged arm out towards her, gloved hand outstretched and palm facing up. A gesture that under normal circumstances, could be interpreted as a benign request, but coming from him felt like a demand. Ahsoka didn’t flinch.

“It would be in your best interest if you handed that to me now,” the Tusken said, the deep velvet of his voice setting her on edge. The tenor and cadence of his speech was identical to that of the fallen Sith apprentice she had faced off against in the past.

Ahsoka pushed past the aching in her head and the unease in her chest and sneered. “In your best interest, maybe,” she said. “Not mine.”

“Give me the weapon.”

“Why do you want it?”

“It belongs to me.”

Ahsoka pressed her lips into a thin line, silent. So, he had finally admitted his true identity. She didn’t want to believe him. Still, nothing else seemed as plausible.

“This blade belonged to the Emperor’s first apprentice,” the Togruta stated instead. “One who Palpatine deemed so unworthy, he was cast aside soon after the Sith revealed themselves to the Jedi and the Republic. Is this who you claim to be?”

The Tusken growled deeply. Ahsoka wondered what contortions of rage were going on beneath that mask. Somehow, having the sound emit from such an expressionless guise made it all the more dreadful.

“Sidious was no longer my master when I crafted that lightsaber,” the Raider replied tersely. “And as far as worth goes, it was he who was brought down by a boy – a farmer’s child – with no real training. Now, my patience with you is wearing thin. Give me back what is mine.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ahsoka replied flatly, glaring at the Tusken Raider before her with weary eyes. “You are not Maul. Obi-Wan killed him.”

“Oh, is that how you believe he came across that weapon?”

“He told me so himself!”

The Tusken chuckled mirthlessly. “He lied to you,” he said.

“Prove it,” the Togruta hissed. “Take that mask off, you coward!”

“You are in no position to make demands, Lady Tano,” the Tusken said, his use of her name making bitter memories resurface in her psyche, “but as a token of goodwill, I will humor your request.”

“You’ll show me your face?”

The Raider shook his head, tut-tutting. “Ah, no,” he replied. “The Sand People of these parts would consider it a great offense, to uncover oneself in front of another. It is quite the taboo in their culture.”

“If you’re really Maul, offending others wouldn’t bother you. It also goes without saying that Maul was a Zabrak, and they have no exaggerated sense of modesty.”

“True,” the masked individual admitted. “However, it is quite the pain in the ass to put this mask back on once I have removed it. It is difficult to get all my horns to go through the correct holes in the first try.” The Tusken brought a leg up onto the bed, getting himself comfortable. Ahsoka noticed that they were, in fact, cybernetic prosthetics, which explained the heavy footsteps on the hard-packed sandy ground. She got the impression that he was enjoying the conversation a bit too much. Perhaps he hadn’t spoken to another person in quite a while, but she was in no mood to make small talk. She was about to tell him as much when the Tusken added, almost as an off-handed remark, “5597.”

“What?” Ahsoka blinked, utterly confused.

“5597,” the supposed former Sith replied, enunciating each number slowly. “That was the number designation of the clone trooper I captured back on Mandalore who first gave me intel on you.”

Jesse. He was talking about Jesse. Remembering the Siege made a shudder go down the Togruta’s spine and the pulsing in her head intensified uncomfortably.

“He originally refused to give me any information willingly, but through the Force… all things are possible.”

Ahsoka ground her teeth at the thought of the torture Maul had likely put Jesse through. She could still remember the shame in the clone lieutenant’s eyes when he had been returned to her and Rex. That was the last time she had seen the trooper as his true self, before the initiative was activated which stripped her friends of their free will. She knew scrying was a Force technique not exclusive to the Sith, but one that other sects of Force users were reluctant to utilize. Could the Tusken have used the technique on her just now? Somehow she doubted it, as she hadn’t felt the intrusion (although the pain in her head could have masked the sensation), but more importantly, the Siege of Mandalore hadn’t been at the forefront of her thoughts in that moment. Could this masked Raider really be the Dathomirian Nightbrother in disguise…?

“He cared deeply for the other clones, whom he deemed siblings,” the Tusken continued, tilting his head back slightly as though enjoying recalling the memory, “but was especially close to Clone 6116, a medic, if I recall correctly. He was very troubled and saddened by his disappearance during the war, as his body was never recovered. He thought of him every day, and even as I ripped his mind apart, he held on to the memory of his favorite brother. Now, how would I know this,” he asked her pointedly, “unless I was, in fact, the person who interrogated him? This was information not even you were privy to.”

Ahsoka inhaled hard – a pained gasp. She was trembling; having heard the words brought back a barrage of memories of her old friends. Kix had been the medic the Raider referred to, the one who had apparently occupied Jesse’s thoughts for so long. Both clones had been her friends during the war, with Kix taking an instant liking to her when, as a young brash Padawan, she had nonetheless shown a curiosity and eagerness to learn first aid. He had taught her much of what she knew. And Jesse… he had always had such a lighthearted sense of humor, teasing her mildly when they served on missions together, and trying to ease the mood with his jokes. She missed them, and so many others, terribly. They had become her family just as much as the Jedi had, and the deaths of all of them were made all the more tragic by the circumstances that brought them about. She didn’t even realize she was crying silently until the tears splattered down onto her chest, soaking into the fabric of her white robe.

“Even after all these years…” the masked figure before her mused, “even though they tried to murder you without a second thought, you still mourn for them.” He paused and leaned forward on the bed, keeping his obscured stare directed towards her. “Jedi are so weak,” he whispered, disgust dripping from his voice like venom. “It is no wonder the entire Order was so easily dismantled and eradicated by a single Sith Lord!”

The Togruta’s eyes widened in shock. His words stung more than the wallop he had given her to the side of her head. Fueled by a sudden surge of indignant rage, Ahsoka brought her knees underneath her body and lunged forward with an angry shriek, dropping the halves of the saberstaff at her side, her hands outstretched and aiming for the Raider’s throat. Too late, she realized that had been his plan all along, for he easily shoved her back with the Force and pinned her against the wall while with his other hand, he summoned the pieces of hilt to him.

The moment he grabbed them, the masked figure was on his feet, standing triumphantly beside the campfire. He released his Force hold on her, and Ahsoka collapsed onto the mattress, dismayed. The self-proclaimed Nightbrother inhaled deeply, and as he did so, the Togruta felt all of the dark energy in the room – that coming from the bled kyber crystals, the one produced by her own ire – begin to drain away. It was all gathering to him, as though he were absorbing it all into the core of his being. She could feel it gather powerfully within him: an evil, toxic thing that seemed to writhe all around him and through him. Never before had she witnessed something like it. The only good thing to come about it was that her headache was finally gone, and she could see and reason clearly. She stared at him, mouth slightly agape, as she sensed him wrestle with the darkness twisting itself around him. In the deep recesses of the eyeholes of his mask, Ahsoka could see a sickly green glow and she was shocked to see wisps of green vapor begin to emanate from his body.

The entire time, he gripped at the pieces of broken weapon closely against his chest, and Ahsoka could see that the metal components of the hilt were becoming red-hot. They smoked and sizzled against his gloved hands, and the former Jedi Padawan glanced down at her palms to find char marks on her own gloves. It was no wonder she had felt her hands burn! He was fighting the crystals in the weapon, attempting to subjugate them to his will, as she had done before. However, there was a vast difference between what she had done, and what this individual was attempting to do. His was definitely a battle to enforce his will, to bend the crystals to his command. It made Ahsoka feel sick, and she suddenly wished she had her own blades at her side. Where had she left them? If she was not mistaken, they were currently outside the hut, laying on the sand where she had dropped them. That fight seemed an eternity ago, although not one full hour had passed since.

In the end, the masked warrior won over the kyber crystals inside the broken pieces. Ahsoka could sense the bled quartzes submit and then embrace his dark influence over them. Throwing back his head and splaying his arms out at his sides, the Tusken let out a howling Force scream that shook the entire room, making items rattle in place and ringing for several seconds in the Togruta’s montrals, discombobulating her momentarily.

Now that he had the power of the shattered weapon at his disposal, Ahsoka’s sense of dread grew in her breast. She figured that he couldn’t ignite the sections of hilt and use them to cut her down, but Obi-Wan had warned her that this was not where their true danger lay. She didn’t know how, but Ahsoka knew she couldn’t let him keep those cursed kyber crystals in his possession, and the longer he held on to them, the more difficult it would be for her to wrest them from him. Unsure of what else to do, the Togruta removed the satchel carrying her tools from her back and flung them by the straps, aiming for the Tusken Raider’s horned head. He lifted an arm and deflected the rucksack easily, but that moment was all Ahsoka needed.

She instantly lunged at him again, ramming into his midsection headfirst, digging her montrals into his side and bowling him over. The two fell and landed in the small bonfire: he with his face in the flames and the Togruta atop his back. Ahsoka quickly scrambled up to her feet before her cloak was set ablaze. As her opponent also stood, swearing and trying to put out the flames in his garments and mask by patting himself down with his fists (he had refused to let go of the hilt pieces), Ahsoka yanked at the cycler rifle strapped to his back. Still cursing aloud, he tried to elbow her off of him, but the ex-Jedi yanked the firearm quickly upwards and then down, allowing for the rifle to instantly come loose. This had been a trick taught to her by another of her clone friends, the Clone Commander, Rex. Blasters came about in all forms, he had told her long ago, but most holsters worked in the same way. She fumbled with the trigger as the Tusken turned on her with a furious growl, his arm already pulled back and his fist at the ready. Before he could do anything more, Ahsoka jabbed the barrel of the rifle to her enemy’s chest and fired.

Cycler rifles were crudely made firearms, ejecting solid projectiles rather than the sophisticated plasma bolts of most blasters. Still, they could be powerful, being especially effective in bypassing energy shields. The recoil this one made almost knocked Ahsoka off her feet, and the shot threw the Tusken back several meters. He remained eerily still when he landed, a scarlet pool of blood blooming on the ragged clothes at his xiphoid area. Shakily, the Togruta lowered the gun, gasping for breath. She didn’t want to go over to him, but knew she had no choice. She needed to retrieve the saberstaff pieces.

She had taken but a few steps towards the figure on the ground when he began to move feebly. Ahsoka almost groaned out loud; she had really been hoping she had managed to kill her opponent in one go. The last thing she wanted was to render first aid. The last thing she needed was to feel guilty if she didn’t. Keeping the firearm aimed at her wounded foe, the Togruta cautiously approached him. How could anyone survive a shot like that at point-blank range?

The Tusken Raider was a real mess. His ragged tunic was singed, and pieces of his mask were falling off his face in charred strips, exposing almost half of his head. One of the cylindrical lenses had come loose along with the bits of leather and cloth, and an eye with a golden iris wreathed in a fiery red halo glared up at her defiantly. The exposed skin around this eye was as crimson as blood with striking black markings making surreal patterns over the face. There was no longer any use in denying things: Ahsoka was looking into the face of Sidious’s former apprentice. The Sith Lord, Darth Maul.

The Togruta knelt beside him, placing the cycler rifle carefully beside her, away from his reach. The events this night had not gone the way she had hoped. She didn’t know what Maul was doing on Tatooine, what he was even doing alive, since Obi-Wan had assured her he was already dead. If she had known he was still loose on the planet, she may just have risked returning to Mos Eisley during the night. She chanced a look at the Zabrak’s chest and winced: there was a fist-sized gaping hole at the base of his sternum and the blood that had instantly begun to gush out of the wound was now soaking the tunic beyond his chest area to his abdomen. He didn’t have much time left. Ahsoka shook her head, at a loss. How tragic, she thought, that what had once begun in a civilized – albeit tense – conversation years ago on Mandalore would end in blood and death. She almost pitied the dying figure before her just then. Even knowing that there was nothing she could do, the Togruta reached out a hand to place it on his chest.

Maul, however, seemed to have other plans. Brusquely, and with a strength Ahsoka couldn’t foresee him still having, the Dathomirian shoved her hand away with his fist still gripping half of his old weapon. He brought his arm up to his chest then and muttering something in a tongue Ahsoka had never heard before, closed his eyes and pushed his fist into the gaping hole.

Ahsoka recoiled, bringing her hand up to her mouth to stifle out a distressed shout. What was he doing‽ Maul grunted in pain but gnashed his teeth and kept up his strange ramblings. By the cadence of it, Ahsoka figured it was some type of mantra or spell. Perhaps ancient Sith magic? Or something he had learned from the Nightsisters? In either case, the sight of him digging into his own wound made the Togruta retch. She bit down on her knuckles to keep herself from vomiting, but she stared on, unable to look away.

Amazingly, impossibly, the flow of blood began to ebb and clot. She would have thought the bleeding had staunched itself because he had essentially bled out, were it not for the fact that he still remained quite lucid. The darkness she had sensed surrounding the Zabrak seemed to have thickened its presence around him, congregating around his xiphoid. It was as though he were using the Dark Side to alter his physical state, halt his body’s physiological response to what should have been a fatal injury. It wasn’t a true healing of himself, but rather a suspension of sorts. His breath remained a gasping death rattle, and Ahsoka could hear the blood gurgling in his lungs. In fact, occasionally some of it dribbled out of the filter apparatus of his mask. But death never took him, so long as he kept up his eerie chant. The former Padawan wasn’t sure of what to do. It might be the wisest thing – the easiest, too – to end him with another slug from the cycler rifle to the head. That was probably the most merciful option as well, she told herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to be so cold-blooded. When she had shot him, she had been acting on desperation more so than calculated planning, and now seeing her enemy clinging on to life, such as it was for him now, wouldn’t allow her to even consider killing him, Sith or no.

Instead, she undid the ties on her hooded cloak and removed it. Balling it up roughly, she leaned over the disguised Zabrak and lifted his head with one hand. She quickly stuffed the fabric beneath the base of his skull and neck with the other, propping him up a bit and allowing him to breathe easier. In return, she received a glare of deep loathing from the Dathomirian, but at least the horrid burbling of his lungs stopped. He didn’t make a single lapse in his strange cadence.

The Togruta considered moving him onto the bed using the Force but wasn’t sure if it would interfere with whatever he was doing to himself. She decided to leave him there on the ground and returned to the fire, taking the rifle with her. The flames had died down a great deal from the two of them having rolled over onto it and the campfire was little more than glowing embers by that point. Ahsoka pushed the smoldering chunks of the wooden chest back together carefully with her boot, again not using the Force out of concern over what effect it would have on the Zabrak. She then took some spare pieces of the wooden crate which she had set aside to feed the dying flames and soon had the bonfire crackling brightly once more.

After this, Ahsoka sat down heavily on the bed and considered her options. On the one hand, she had to face the reality that she was dealing with way more than she had bargained for when she set out on her mission. Instead of retrieving a Sith artifact, she now had to deal with an actual Sith as well, and she couldn’t possibly leave him on Tatooine. If he survived the night, of course. He was dangerous to be unaccounted for, could not be allowed to roam free. Why, why had Obi-Wan told her that Maul was dead? Why would he keep the truth from her?

As she went over her conversation with the Jedi Master’s apparition in her mind, Ahsoka realized Obi-Wan never actually told her that he’d killed the Zabrak. His exact words had been, “The Sith that was Darth Maul is dead.” In truth, it had been the Togruta who had assumed their meaning as being quite literal. She silently chided herself. After all, she had known Obi-Wan since she had first become Anakin’s Padawan, back during the Battle of Christophsis. The Jedi Master had always had a fondness for speaking in riddles, as he felt the lesson his words imparted was more impactful and the knowledge retained better if one had to figure out the true meaning rather than told directly. This Ahsoka had learned of over the years of fighting alongside him and her master, as the two Jedi generals often worked closely together. In fact, when speaking to his former student, Master Kenobi often fondly referred to Ahsoka as our Padawan, acknowledging that he was as much her teacher as Anakin was. She should have known better than to take his words at face value, rather than attempt to decipher a deeper meaning.

Which begged the question: what did his cryptic message truly mean? It was obvious that the Sith Zabrak was alive still (for how long had yet to be seen). Did Obi-Wan mean that Maul was no longer a Sith Lord? Not in the true essence of the word, she supposed, having been stripped of the title when Count Dooku replaced him. The last time she had come across the Zabrak on Malachor, he was adamant on destroying his former master and everything he had created, but he had been delving deeper into Sith knowledge, attempting to take that dark power unto himself. And from what she had just witnessed, he was by no means redeemed. Quite the contrary: now more than ever before, she sensed him steeped deeper into the Dark Side than at any other of their encounters, terrifying and repulsive to behold.

Ahsoka recalled how, several times during their conversation, Obi-Wan had insisted that there was more than one way for darkness to return to the galaxy, something that could prove just as hideous as the Sith. Is that what she had witnessed just now? It certainly seemed that way to her. The thought of Maul – or anyone else, for that matter – ascending beyond the restraints of the moniker of Sith Lord and transforming into something worse was beyond her imagination’s capacity. The closest thing she could think of was the Son, member of the beings known only as the Ones who had been the embodiment of the Dark Side. Remembering the atrocities that individual had been capable of committing with the immense power he wielded made the Togruta shudder. The galaxy certainly didn’t need any other to rise to such a level of darkness and evil. And yet… she had already determined that she would not kill the Nightbrother, whether he deserved it or not. Aside from feeling incapable of callously taking the life of a downed opponent, Ahsoka was beginning to understand that Obi-Wan had had ulterior motives for sending her to Tatooine. Perhaps due to her history with the Dathomirian, the Jedi Master had surmised that she would be able to draw him out of hiding by her very presence. Had he meant for her to confront him? If so, to what end? She wished Master Kenobi would show himself to her again so she could get a direct answer from him this time, but she doubted it would happen anytime soon. The dark aura surrounding the Zabrak was seeping into every crevice in the building – it was more an oppressive feeling in the room than something actually visible – and she doubted if a being of the Light, as Obi-Wan surely had become, would be able to penetrate through it.

Heaving a tired sigh, the Togruta rose to her feet. She decided Maul was too hapless to do much in his current state, but she wanted her weapons back, nonetheless. Remembering how the blades had fizzled out on their own worried her, and she wanted to examine them. She took the Tusken rifle with her and stepped outside, the brisk night air keeping her alert. By the light of the moons, she was able to not only find her two sabers easily in the sand where she had dropped them, but also the spiked mace Maul had been swinging around at her. That, too, had apparently been dropped during the battle, with the Zabrak seemingly not caring to recover it.

Ahsoka first picked up her weapons and tried igniting the blades once more. Both hilts hummed and instantly emitted their white blades of light with not so much as a crackle of static. So, there wasn’t a malfunction in the hilt mechanism. Switching off her lightsabers and clipping the hilts to her belt, she approached the crude bludgeon and cautiously picked it up, remembering all too well the burning she’d felt in her hands upon touching the Sith’s other weapon.

But no, this seemed to be an ordinary club, rudimentary in design, with very few embellishments. The only thing that could make it stand out was that it was made fully out of metal, rather than being carved out of wood and bone, as she had been led to believe all Tusken crafted their weapons. By all means, her lightsabers should have still been able to cut through the thing easily. With a frown, the former Padawan walked back inside the hut with the weapon in tow, figuring she would be able to study its features more clearly by the light of the fire. She kept the cycler rifle in her other hand, and from the moment she reentered the hut, lifted and aimed it in the fallen Zabrak’s general direction, just in case.

She could see him still lying on the ground where she’d left him but could no longer hear his mutterings. The Togruta gulped. Had he died while she was outside? No, she could hear him breathing, slow and steady, though still a bit shallow. Leaving both Tusken weapons on the bed, Ahsoka began rummaging through the broken junk on the floor, at last finding her discarded satchel. Digging through it, she fished out her utility vibroblade. The amount of times this tool came in handy never ceased to amaze her. On this trip alone, it had become almost as invaluable as her lightsabers. She found the black melons on the floor beside the bed, still untouched. Grabbing the smallest one, she walked over slowly to the wounded Dathomirian. His exposed eye was closed, but he opened it the instant he felt her approach. He looked feverish and exhausted.

He said nothing but eyed her warily as she squatted beside him and set the melon down at her side. Ahsoka ignored the look and ran the pad of her thumb down the grip of her pocketknife in a particular downward zigzag pattern, producing the scissors from within the handle. She leaned over him and began to snip away the ruined strips that made up his mask, being careful not to rupture the delicate filtration hoses that ran underneath the material. She wasn’t too keen on the notion of helping him at all but knew her conscience wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise. She kept thinking over Obi-Wan’s words to her as she worked, her brow furrowed in concern. She still couldn’t understand what the Jedi Master’s intent had been in keeping her in the dark regarding Maul. How long had the Zabrak been on Tatooine? Had he just recently returned, or had he been wandering the Jundland Wastes since he arrived years before, following Ezra? Ahsoka glanced over to the Dathomirian’s legs and noticed that some of the wiring was exposed in places, and Maul had arranged a patchwork of leather strips to wrap around the joints in order to keep the sand out of the mechanisms. His clothes were very worn and frayed, bleached by the suns, and beneath the scent of fresh blood, the Togruta could smell the slightly sour musk of the Nightbrother’s sweat penetrated into the fabric. Ahsoka wrinkled her nose. It certainly didn’t appear that he had been living anywhere that had access to regular showers, anyway.

She was mildly surprised that the Zabrak didn’t put up a fight this time around. However, she supposed that had to do with the amount of blood he’d lost. Once she’d fully exposed his face, she removed the humidifying canteen from around his neck, taking the filtration mechanism off from over his mouth as well. Without a word, she took one corner of the bundled cloak from beneath his head and used it to wipe away the blood and spittle from around the Dathomirian’s chin.

“If you are expecting gratitude…” the Zabrak warned hoarsely.

“I’m not,” Ahsoka snapped. “You’d better not be expecting an apology, because you’re not going to get one.”

“That is a relief,” Maul replied, baring rancid, bloodied teeth.

“I’m surprised you can talk, given your condition,” the ex-Jedi said, looking down at the Zabrak with open curiosity. “You should be dead.” Then she added, mostly to herself, “Twice over now.”

“That would have pleased you, I am willing to bet,” the Zabrak mused, but for once, there was no hostility behind his words. He just sounded tired.

Ahsoka merely grunted in reply, unable to fully deny that. She wanted to ask him questions about his presence on the desert planet as well as what he had just done to himself, but she didn’t think he would cooperate. Instead, she reached for his fists, still pressed up against his chest, clutching the two segments of his weapon. His grip on them tightened immediately, and just as she had done before, he snarled at her in a threatening manner.

“Relax,” the Togruta muttered with a roll of her eyes and a slight shake of her head. “I’m not interested in taking back your weapon… for now. I just need to check your wound.”

“Leave it,” Maul growled, “there is nothing you can do.”

Ahsoka frowned and made to get up from her crouch but thought it over and knelt beside him instead, settling herself on the ground. “I’ll see what I can do anyway,” she stated resolutely, lifting her shears. She was relieved to find that when she reached for his hands again, the Zabrak didn’t fight her off.

“Feeling guilty?” he asked mockingly, closing his eyes.

“The only regret I have right now is that I didn’t aim a little higher,” the Togruta replied irately as she used the vibroblade scissors to cut through the thick leather ammunition harness that ran diagonally across the Dathomirian’s chest. She made sure to avoid the projectile cartridges, unsure if the heat caused by the activation of the tool’s ultrasonic vibration generator would cause them to detonate.

To her surprise, the Zabrak chuckled softly. The effort made him cough a bit, and a trickle of bloodied saliva began to drip out of the corner of his mouth. Absentmindedly, Ahsoka reached over to wipe it away with the cloth of her balled-up cloak. “Aiming for the center of my chest would have still failed to kill me,” Maul said, barely audible now. His strength seemed to be waning. “You would have been unable to hit both hearts. In either case, I have survived worse.”

“I meant to say that I should’ve shot at your head,” Ahsoka glowered, letting the leather harness fall off her wounded opponent’s torso. “Would you have been able to survive that?”

This time, the Zabrak made no reply, and when the former Jedi looked up at his face, she noticed that his features were going slack, as though he were fading out of consciousness. As he did so, the gaping wound in his chest began to bleed again. Startled, Ahsoka grabbed at his shoulder, and Maul’s eyes snapped open immediately. Gritting his teeth, the Nightbrother began to mutter once more, and the bleeding stopped. Ahsoka regarded him uneasily.

“You can’t keep that up for much longer,” she told him once he’d ceased his strange cantillation. “You need medical attention.”

“I will be fine,” Maul grumbled, “eventually.”

The Togruta sat back on her heels with a sigh, looking down at the Dark Side user, both perplexed and worried. “Is this how you survived Naboo?” she finally asked with a frown. The notion had popped into her mind since she witnessed the strange ritual.

Maul’s eyes met hers and for a moment, both were silent. “Naboo was worse,” he finally said. Ahsoka could tell by the finality of his tone that he would not speak any more of it.

Rather than press him further on the subject, the former Padawan took to cutting away his tunic with her scissors, exposing the gaping wound in his sternum. It was pretty bad: she could see bits of shrapnel from the projectile embedded in the flesh and part of his bone was visible. She didn’t want to imagine what it must have been like for him to lose half of his entire body, but she somehow doubted that could have possibly been worse than this. Obi-Wan had told her of how he had sliced the former Sith apprentice in half during their first duel, and for all the complications that must’ve caused for the Zabrak, at least lightsaber cuts were clean, and the heat from the blade would often instantly cauterize wounds. If death came, it was nearly instantaneous, with the body going into shock. This, on the other hand, was messy and gory, and likely prone to infection. If Maul died from this injury, it would be a slow and agonizing process.

The Togruta looked about herself for something to clean at the gunshot wound but found nothing suitable. Her white cloak was out of the question, for it was what was keeping the Zabrak’s head propped up so he wouldn’t go back to choking on his own blood, and furthermore, it was now stained by his various body fluids and dirt. It was her traveling garment, which meant it hadn’t been sanitary to use for first aid to begin with; now it was beyond use for such things and absolutely ruined. Maul’s tunic wasn’t in much better shape, but she had to use something.

“I’m going to have to rip one of your sleeves off,” she informed him, taking ahold of the arm closest to her.

“I have already told you: leave it be,” the Zabrak hissed, stiffening. “You will make the damn hole bleed again if you mess with it.”

“You’ve got your bleeding under control, don’t you?” Ahsoka asked with a smirk. “Can’t be worse than Naboo, right?”

Maul growled at her, but that only started him coughing again, and Ahsoka instantly took to wiping down his face with her stained robe, a bit sorry that she had antagonized him while he could be in his throes of death. Obi-Wan would have never stooped so low, she scolded herself. Anakin, on the other hand… She supposed she was both their Padawan after all: she had taken after both of them. At the moment, that meant she was undecided as to which stance to take regarding the Dathomirian Sith. She was aiding him the way she knew Master Kenobi would have, but she was being resentful and a bit spiteful about it, which made her sarcastic, exactly as Skyguy would have been. And where had that bitterness led Anakin? Maul wasn’t the only one who Obi-Wan had had to duel to the death. When she had first encountered the ghostly apparition of the deceased Jedi Master, Ahsoka had questioned him about Anakin’s turn to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan had confirmed that it had been he who rendered his former student into requiring the mechanical armored life suit that kept him alive. Ahsoka couldn’t let her own negative emotions lead her down a similar path.

She was purposefully more mindful of both her actions and her thoughts as she quietly snipped off Maul’s sleeve at the shoulder. She then cut the fabric into two squares and used one to gently wipe away the clotted blood from around the wound, keeping the Zabrak’s words in mind and not prodding directly at the hole. The Dathomirian glared at her sullenly the entire time, his jaw clenched in pain, but remaining quiet. Once done, she picked up the black melon at her side and brought it up to her face, tapping the side with the handle of her utility vibroblade. It was definitely the greenest one, the hard outer shell not yet showing the cracks that meant they were ready for harvesting. She had purposefully grabbed one that wasn’t ripe yet when she picked the others earlier in the evening. Anakin had detested Sand People – Tatooine in general, really – and usually refused to talk about anything relating to his home planet at all. However, he once grudgingly admitted to her that black melons were both delicious and useful. His mother, he had told her, had liked them quite a bit, although not many other sentients did, except for the Tuskens. If not collected at the right time of day, the milk inside instantly soured and tasted horrible. Sand People liked the rotten flavor and became greatly insulted when other sentients didn’t show the same appreciation. His mother had taught him, he had confided, that black melons were best harvested in the twilit hours just before the second sun rose or set. This allowed the milk inside to remain bland and creamy, with just a slight bittersweet aftertaste. Sand People considered this a waste of a good melon and were highly aggressive to whoever they saw trying to harvest the wild gourds growing in the desert. More importantly, however, Anakin had told his Padawan that when the fruit was still green, the fibrous flesh within had antibacterial and curative properties, and was often used as medicine for all sorts of ailments as well as to neutralize toxins. His mother would make a porridge out of unripe black melon flesh which she would sweeten with pallie puree and give to him slathered over haroun bread whenever he was ill. Anakin said it was the best tasting medicine in the galaxy. Having taken that into account, the Togruta had picked one of the young fruits in case she found herself needing a quick home remedy. At the time, she had been thinking of something to treat bites from the notorious blood-ants which tended to build their sand towers against more solid objects such as boulders, dead trees or abandoned buildings. She wasn’t sure what help it would be to a gunshot wound, especially one as bad as the one she’d inflicted on Maul, but it was all she had on hand.

Flicking the scissors back inside the handle, the Togruta then activated the grip by sliding her thumb in a different sequence than before, and a marlinspike protruded this time. Keeping the ultrasonic vibration generator activated, Ahsoka used the tool to stab into the thick husk of the green melon easily, then set it down beside her. She grabbed the second square of fabric from her lap and tilted the gourd onto it, letting the milk soak the rag completely. She then folded up the cloth and placed it at the base of the Zabrak’s chest, covering the hole. He winced uncomfortably and muttered, “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“More or less,” Ahsoka replied, taking up her utility vibroblade again and rotating the spike out for a small saw. She cut the melon in half quickly before switching over to the chisel tool and began scraping the flesh from the shell. The strips of fruit that came loose from the tough casing were oozing with thick milk and Ahsoka held a bit out towards the Dathomirian’s mouth. He squinted at her and defiantly pressed his lips together tightly. “Oh, come on!” she exclaimed, annoyed. “This won’t kill you! If I’d wanted to do that, I would have saved myself all this hassle and just shot you a second time!”

Maul glared at her for a moment before saying rigidly, doing his best not to open his mouth too much, “I only eat that shit when I have no other choice.”

“Well, guess what?” Ahsoka said, raising an eye ridge. “You have no other choice.” Leaning forward, she slid her other hand beneath his skull and propped him up a bit more, pushing the chunk of fruit up against his lips. “This one’s green. It shouldn’t have too strong of a flavor, and it has medicinal properties. In any case, it can’t taste as bad as all that blood and bile in your mouth.”

Thankfully, Maul obliged her, keeping his eyes fixated on her as he quietly chewed and swallowed. Ahsoka could tell from his expression that it hadn’t been as terrible as he’d expected. She grinned with satisfaction, then dug into the melon rind with her chisel to take several more strips. These she placed directly onto the Zabrak’s xiphisternum after removing the wet piece of fabric. Once done, she replaced the cloth and took hold of the Dark Side user’s arm, placing it back over his chest. “Hold this in place here,” she instructed, returning her attention to carving the melon.

“I have been on this dust ball of a planet for years now,” the Nightbrother said with a scowl, but not resisting when Ahsoka pushed another piece of fruit into his mouth. “No one has ever mentioned these things being used as medicine of any kind, not even the Tusken clans. What makes you an expert, Lady Tano? I was not aware of these growing on Shili.”

“They don’t,” the Togruta replied quickly, looking down at the gourd in her hand. “My master taught me about them. He was native to this place.” In truth, Ahsoka wasn’t sure why she had divulged the information to the Zabrak, and she squirmed in place uncomfortably at having done so. On the floor, Maul sneered.

“Ah, yes, I remember Skywalker. I was on this planet as well, when the Jedi took him from Mos Espa.” After a pause, the Dathomirian added ruefully, “I should have cut him down then when he was still a brat instead of going after the Jedi that accompanied him.”

Angrily, Ahsoka shoved another piece of melon into the Zabrak’s mouth. “You don’t get to utter Anakin’s name, ever,” she growled. She put what was left of the fruit on the ground beside her and turned off her vibroblade, flipping the chisel back into the grip and slipping it into one of the pouches on her belt. Then she stood, wiping her fingers on her pants. “I hope you choke on that,” she muttered down at the wounded Sith, turning on her heel and walking back towards the bed.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka took both Tusken weapons still on the mattress and put them on the floor beside the other melons, her satchel, and the durasteel coffer she had discarded before. Peeling back the cover to expose the dried grass beneath, the Togruta examined the worn leather material. It was old, but thick and still usable. She removed it from the bed completely and shook it out, scattering bits of hay and more of the brown beetles she had seen earlier. She rolled it up roughly and headed back to the wounded Zabrak on the ground.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she began flatly, settling down beside him once more.

“We are doing nothing,” the Dathomirian interjected with a scowl. “If you are wise – although granted, you have shown to be anything but so far – you will leave this desolate wasteland and forget any of this ever happened. As for the saberstaff, it remains with me.”

Ahsoka smirked. “You are in no position to make demands,” she said dismissively, repeating his words back to him, “but as a token of goodwill, I will humor your request.”

The Zabrak remained silent, glaring at her. Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Come on, this is the part where you ask me if I’m leaving after all.”

“I am not doing this.”

“I am leaving Tatooine, by the way,” Ahsoka said with a lopsided smile, leaning forward a bit. “And I’m taking you with me.”

Maul growled, his tattooed features looking particularly dangerous in the distant glow of the bonfire. “What makes you think I will cooperate?”

“What makes you think I’m giving you a choice?” After a moment of tense silence, Ahsoka shrugged and explained, “I came here to obtain a powerful Sith artifact at the behest of a good friend of mine. I’m not leaving without it.”

“The farm boy sent you,” the Zabrak stated, his frown deepening. “The other Skywalker.”

The Togruta ignored him and continued, “I didn’t expect it to have such a negative effect on me, although I suppose I should have. I’m not sure what you did to that hilt before I shot you, but you’ve obviously made the kyber crystals inside submit to your will. It took all of my abilities just to be able to handle them briefly. If I kill you, or allow you to die, chances are those crystals are going to begin affecting me again. With me so far?”

“You have explained your reasoning for keeping me alive, at least,” the Dathomirian said. “I am glad to know you had ulterior motives and were not acting by some tedious sense of honor you Jedi seem fond of carrying around.”

“Your master made sure there was no place for honor in the galaxy after Order 66 was enacted,” the Togruta said gravely, her tone low and threatening, “and you can bet your ball bearings I fight dirty when I have to.”

“Point well taken,” Maul replied. He didn’t look the least bit upset by her words but rather curious, his features becoming more animated, like a predator suddenly alerted to potential prey. Ahsoka stared him down. Unfortunately for you, she thought, Togrutas are predators, too.

“You, on the other hand, not only seem comfortable dominating those kyber crystals, but appear to be using their power to keep yourself alive. I’m not even sure I want to know how. Whatever you’re doing, it’s keeping them from infecting me with Dark Side energy because they’re focused completely on you. Yet in your current state, you need to use all your skills just to keep your body from falling apart. Regardless of what you say, if I were to leave you behind, this wound will kill you in time. I may not care whether you live or die – other than needing you to control those crystals – but you seem pretty keen on living. So, as I started to say, this is what we’re going to do: you will come back with me to Mos Eisley, and then we’re taking my ship back to the Core. There, I will hand you over to the New Republic authorities and they can decide what to do with you. Whatever they choose is fine by me. Hopefully, it involves you being locked away somewhere dank for a long, long time.”

“I can refuse,” the Zabrak countered, “attempt a last-minute attack which would force you to kill me.”

“Or you can play along for now, which is what I think you’ll do,” Ahsoka replied, her voice becoming almost pleasant. “You know that my shuttle is likely equipped with better medical equipment than you’d ever find in Mos Eisley. If you come along quietly, you can get that wound treated, and you won’t have to exert yourself anymore just to stay alive. Then – who knows? – you may just be able to overpower me and take my ship.” The Togruta grinned down at the Dathomirian, revealing her pointy canines. “Come on, Maul, what do you say? Take the gamble. Let’s try to outsmart each other, see who ends up victorious. It’ll be like old times.”

Ahsoka could see that her words had gotten to the Zabrak. His eyes gleamed in the firelight as he studied her face, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smirk of his own. “You may still get the chance to kill me,” she added casually, baiting him on further. “Are you going to pass up an opportunity like that?”

The former Sith apprentice broke out into a full grin, unable to help himself. “Very well,” he sneered, “let us have some fun. I would offer to shake on it, but we both know you will use that opening to take one of the kaiburr.”

“Ah, I see you’ve still got your wits about you, old man,” the Togruta observed. She patted the rolled-up mattress covering on the ground beside her. “Anyway, let’s get you wrapped up.”

Maul glanced at the crumpled leather and then back to her disdainfully. “You cannot be serious.”

“I didn’t bring anything along to make a stretcher,” Ahsoka said pointedly. “I didn’t think I’d be needing one. In the sorry state you’re in, you can’t ride on the back of my speeder. Fortunately for you, I happened to rent one with extra storage space in case the item I came to get turned out to be something bulky. However, if I get any part of the compartment dirty, they’ll charge me an extra fee. I’m not going to waste any more than I have to. Everything in port is overpriced as it is. So, yes, I’m bundling you up in this before we head out, and you’re going to be still and cooperate.”

“Remind me to make your death extra slow and torturous,” the Nightbrother replied.

“Of course,” the Togruta said airily. She stood up and made a big flourish about clearing out part of the floor by hand and spreading out the worn hide on the dirt. She was having way too much of a good time making the Dathomirian irate, knowing he could do nothing about it. Take that for punching me in the head, she thought, knowing she was being petty. Never mind the fact she had bitten him first. Once done, she pouted. How was she supposed to move him into position now? Crossing her arms, she turned to ask him, “If I use the Force to move you, will that affect whatever it is you did to stop your bleeding? You’re too heavy for me to carry, and I doubt you can move on your own.”

Maul frowned at her with a furrowed brow. He seemed to have been wondering the same thing as he observed her. “I am… not sure,” he admitted. “There were no other Force users in my immediate proximity the last time I had to employ this… method.”

Ahsoka pouted thoughtfully. In the end, she shrugged. “Well, there’s no way of getting around it, anyway. I’d probably hurt you more if I tried to move you without the Force. I’ll make it quick.”

Without giving him the opportunity to object, the former Jedi extended her Life Force over the prone figure’s own and used it to lift his battered body onto the leather. She wasn’t all that gentle about it, indeed rather careless in her haste to move him rapidly. He landed back onto the floor with a heavy thud. Ahsoka hoped his legs had made most of that noise. She knelt beside him and leaned over him immediately, checking the wound in his chest. It wasn’t bleeding too much. Maul had kept his arm clamped down over the makeshift bandage Ahsoka had made out of his sleeve.

“Hm, that didn’t go that badly,” she mused, almost to herself.

“According to you,” the Zabrak snapped, glaring up at her. “You may as well take me out to your speeder by kicking me along the floor.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” the Togruta muttered. Moving quickly, she took one end of the leather tarp and folded it over the Nightbrother’s form, tucking it snugly underneath his body on the opposite side.

“Are we leaving now?” Maul asked, fidgeting uncomfortably. “It is still a few hours before the first sun rises.”

“Well, no,” Ahsoka replied, crossing her arms. “But you’re still a good distance from the fire, and the desert nights are cold.”

“I do not mind the elements.”

Ahsoka looked down at the Zabrak with a raised eye ridge. “I’m not risking you getting any worse before we head out. Unfortunately for me, you’re not quite expendable at the moment.”

“You have made a grave mistake, admitting so,” the Dathomirian said, his golden eyes glinting in the unsteady ambient light.

“It would be useless to deny it by this point,” the former Padawan countered with an unconcerned wave of her hand. “We’ve already established that for the moment being, at least, we need each other. You can pretend to disagree all you’d like; won’t change a thing.” Standing back up, she stepped over him and picked up her soiled cloak from where it still lay, crumpled. She looked it over with a grimace of disgust before sighing in resignation, shaking it out and folding it into a more-or-less acceptable square. There was simply no way she was going to ever put that back on. Not all the disinfectant washings in the galaxy would render it usable again, she didn’t think. The Sith’s taint would remain on it permanently. She may as well burn it. For the moment, however, it still had some function.

Ahsoka knelt back down beside the Zabrak and pushed it under his head once more, taking care to first lift his skull a bit so his horns wouldn’t snag the material. Maul observed her the entire time; she could tell he was already calculating exactly what his next move would be, and when. As for herself, she was much too tired to really put much thought towards the future beyond just getting through the next few hours. She still felt drained from the entire ordeal with the bled kyber crystals, and although her headache had gone away, a different type of pain was beginning to bloom at her temple, beside her lek: she was sure to get a large bruise from where the Nightbrother had punched her. She rubbed her face tiredly and allowed her shoulders to sag. It was looking to be a long, grueling rest of the night.

“Tired already?” the Zabrak asked her, turning his head a bit towards her direction in order to see her better over the rim of the leather cover. Once again, Ahsoka noticed no hint of malice in his tone this time. If anything, he sounded slightly concerned, which was odd, considering the circumstances.

“I didn’t come to Tatooine looking for a fight,” she muttered, shifting into a sitting position and bringing her knees up to her chest. With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head on them. “Definitely not against someone as skilled in combat as you. Of course I’m tired, and sleepy. Haven’t gotten much rest since Obi-Wan –”

She stopped herself short. Letting Maul know of the old Jedi Master’s ability to appear in the living realm after death was not a good idea, especially as the Zabrak was deeply steeped in the Dark Side. Hadn’t most Sith been obsessed with eternal life? And if what she had just witnessed was anything to go by…

“You were going to say Kenobi appeared to you, were you not?” the Dathomirian asked warily. “It was he who sent you here, not the Skywalker boy. I should have known.”

Ahsoka looked down at the Zabrak and frowned. She didn’t answer.

“And he did not just appear to you in a vision during a meditative state,” he continued, staring up into the darkness, “but rather as a ghastly luminescent apparition that seems able to interact with the living world to some extent.”

At his words, the Togruta’s mouth dropped open a bit, her eyes wide. She gawked at the Nightbrother, incredulous. She leaned towards him, unable to help herself. “You’ve seen him too‽”

Maul scoffed and turned his fiery gaze back to her. “Well of course. The insufferable old josser would not waste the opportunity to torment me with his presence, now would he?”

Ahsoka almost smiled at the thought of Obi-Wan nagging after the Zabrak, allowing the Dark Sider no respite, but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind, than another took its place, one far more serious. The Togruta’s brow furrowed and she frowned. “Did Obi-Wan…” she looked intently down at the Dathomirian, “did he tell you I was coming here? Did he lead you to this place?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around what the old Jedi Master could have possibly been hoping to accomplish by instigating a confrontation between them.

“No,” the Nightbrother replied. “The karking git never speaks to me. I was not aware he could.”

Ahsoka let out a deep breath and dropped her chin back onto her forearms. She yawned.

“Will you try to sleep?” Maul asked her. The lack of aggression in his voice was making her uncomfortable. The Nightbrother had a soothing tenor and his accent made him seem civilized and educated… almost pleasant. Quite the opposite of what she knew him to truly be. She couldn’t allow herself to let her guard down around him. His velvet speech may have been able to make her doubt her convictions once, as a teenager, but she had been wholly unprepared then. When she first encountered him on Mandalore, she had put up the fiercest, snappiest attitude she could muster, heeding the words of her former mentors when they warned her of the Zabrak’s velvet tongue. And he had still drawn her in, persuaded her to his cause with his superficially sound reasoning. If it hadn’t been for her undying loyalty to Anakin Skywalker, she may just have betrayed the Jedi Order’s teachings and joined him. She had come so close…

“I don’t trust you enough to blink, let alone sleep,” she growled, rubbing her fist stubbornly at her eyes.

Then there had been Malachor… Ahsoka shuddered thinking about it. There were so many awful memories still plaguing her from that day: foremost her reunion with her former master, by then turned and twisted by the Dark Side into the Sith Lord, Darth Vader. But that hadn’t been the only unpleasant memory made back then. The Dathomirian Zabrak had played a great part in that instance, too. From the moment Ezra brought the stranded ex-Sith before her and Kanan, both former Padawans had distrusted him. And yet she had found herself fighting beside him again, shoulder to shoulder, against the Inquisitors that tracked them to that dreaded Sith temple. Not only had she accepted his help, knowing it was likely serving some ulterior motive for the Dathomirian, but she had offered her own support in turn, allowing the Dark Sider to ruthlessly eliminate the far more inexperienced Inquisitors hunting them. In the heat of battle, she had been all too willing to team up with him to the point where she forgot her caution and became careless. It was to her shame that she had ever allowed her defenses down around him enough to where he blinded Kanan Jarrus.

And all the while he had always spoken in that dangerously quiet tone of his, with an almost languid manner that denoted intelligence and wile. Hate it as she may to admit it, Maul was wise in all the wrong ways. In all the most perilous of ways. Few were the times he allowed his calm demeanor to fall and reveal the sadistic beast beneath. She was likely the only person fortunate enough to have witnessed it on more than one occasion and lived.

“Ah, that is good, very good, Lady Tano,” the Dathomirian said now. “You are far more useful to me awake.”

“Is that so?” Ahsoka rolled her eyes, trying to appear unperturbed. If she came across as insolent, so be it. His attempts at reverse psychology were not going to work on her. She too, had grown wiser over the years.

“Yes, quite.”

“Care to tell me how?”

“Mm-hm,” the Zabrak hummed in assent. “I need something to focus on, so I do not succumb to sleep.”

“You think I’ll try to kill you while you nap?”

“No,” he replied. “You have gone through too much trouble to keep me alive just to let all your efforts go to waste. You are unlikely to change your mind by now, if only for that. However, just as you have admitted that you need to use me for your own ends, well, as you succinctly put things: it would be quite useless to deny my requirement of you as well. I need you to keep talking, prevent me from dozing off. Surely you realized what occurred a few moments ago as my consciousness began to drift?”

Ahsoka lifted her head, suddenly alert. Of course she remembered, although the night seemed to have dragged on for so long that she had nearly forgotten. His wound had started bleeding heavily again as soon as he’d begun to black out.

“This folk remedy salve you slapped together really only serves to hide the gore and assuage your mind,” the Zabrak said candidly. “If your assumptions about the fruit is correct, then it may keep the wound from becoming infected and sphacelate, but would need to be changed out constantly, and nothing I can do will make the blasted hole close up faster. Only time will allow the tissues to mend.”

“And you have to remain awake for all of it‽” the Togruta asked, aghast. There really was no way the Dathomirian would survive without her intervention. “I thought you’d… stabilized the link to the Dark Side surrounding you with your chanting or whatever it is you were doing, and that’s why you were able to stop. Something like that.”

The Zabrak sighed, and it was his turn to roll his eyes. When he fixated his gaze upon her once more, he looked like he was observing a youngling with sub-par intelligence. “The incantation is used to focus one’s mind and nothing more. Anything can be said, so long as it facilitates concentration. Once your will is used to dominate the Living Force of your own body, the ‘chant,’ as you put it, is no longer necessary. What is required, however, is an active mind and a resilient determination. Yes, remaining awake is a must.”

“But you’re not focusing on stopping the bleeding right now, are you?” the Togruta asked, leaning a bit closer to him. She wondered if she should take another look at his wound. “You’ve been talking to me this entire time!”

“And I have been determined to live this entire time, Lady Tano. You may not notice it, but I am exerting my will over this mangled body to make sure it does not expire. I have managed such a thing before.”

“On Naboo?”

A pause. “Not just on Naboo.”

“Well, dwang, how many times have you been mortally wounded?”

“I was raised by Darth Sidious. What do you think?”

Ahsoka pouted thoughtfully. She had never stopped to consider the Zabrak’s upbringing, or what it had possibly entailed. She knew, from what had been relayed to her by Obi-Wan, mostly, that Maul came from a clan of Zabrak hybrids that lived on the planet Dathomir, now essentially extinct: the Nightbrothers. It was the same clan that later produced Savage Opress, the giant, lumbering, bestial Sith assassin trained by Count Dooku. Maul had been taken from the planet at a young age, she was told. How young, she wasn’t sure, and had never asked. She was growing curious now.

“Where were you raised?” she asked.

“What do you care?” he snapped impatiently, his cool façade slipping a bit. Perhaps she had hit a bit of a sore spot. Ahsoka grinned. That was good to know.

“I don’t, really,” she lied. The more she knew of her enemy, the better she could control him, or so she hoped. “You’re the one who told me to make sure you stay awake. If I keep you talking, you can’t fall asleep.”

The Dathomirian scowled darkly. “I cannot waste my breath on idle chit-chat. One of my lungs appears to be bruised. You speak about something. I will listen.”

“I don’t feel like talking to you,” Ahsoka replied curtly, looking down upon the Zabrak with cold eyes. “So, either you can do the idle chit-chatting, or I can go sit by the fire, maybe flick a few embers your way if I hear you start to snore.”

Maul growled and said nothing, so Ahsoka shrugged and made to get up. She didn’t even have a cloak anymore and the night chill was bothering her. She had never much liked the cold. The fire was definitely more inviting than the Sith’s company.

Before she was fully upright, however, the Dathomirian muttered, “Mustafar.” Apparently, he was more desirous of her presence than he let on. The Togruta sat back down and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to conserve her own warmth. She really would have preferred the bonfire, small as it was.

Ahsoka knew about Mustafar, of course. She had been to the planet before, while still apprenticed to Anakin Skywalker. Finding out Maul had been raised there didn’t come as much of a surprise. After all, during the Clone Wars, Darth Sidious – still operating from the shadows at the time – had orchestrated a scheme to kidnap Force-sensitive children and had them taken to the hellish planet. She and her master had been able to rescue them, but unfortunately were unable to gain any information about the Sith behind the plot, as the facility the infants were kept in was destroyed in the process. Later, after the enactment of Order 66, she had learned during her time as a spy that Sidious – finally revealing himself as Palpatine and declaring himself Emperor – had returned to the lava planet and finished the plan he had begun in the Clone Wars. This time, the Force-sensitive children he had kidnapped from all reaches of the galaxy were taken to Mustafar and brainwashed, trained in the Dark Side to become the dreaded Inquisitorius. It made sense that he would have used this place to raise and train the Zabrak as a child.

“What was it like, growing up in a place like that?” she asked, although from her experience there, she surmised that the Dathomirian’s upbringing was not pleasant.

“Demanding,” Maul answered curtly, clearly annoyed that she had continued her line of questioning. “However, I suppose it would have been the same regardless of which planetary system my master chose to train me in. Must we go on in this vein? I can assure you there is not much of interest or substance in the era of my youth. Just your basic physical and psychological torture in order to hone my prowess in the Dark Side. There must be something else we can discuss.”

The casual way in which the Zabrak made the remark didn’t fool her, and Ahsoka raised an eye ridge skeptically. Basic physical and psychological torture? How could either of those things be basic? And how could the Sith dole such things out so callously to where they spoke of them in such a carefree manner? Judging by the way Maul avoided her questioning gaze when saying that comment betrayed his own unease with the subject. Not for the first time that night, the former Jedi felt a twinge of compassion for the wounded foe before her. She decided to leave well enough alone and change the subject. She wasn’t too keen on learning what sorts of dreadful things the Sith did to their own and certainly did not want to feel anything at all towards Sidious’s former apprentice save for distrust and contempt. Sympathy for this devil was a deadly thing, she knew.

“Okay, then,” Ahsoka said, huddling into a tighter ball and shivering slightly. “We’ll talk about something else.”

The Nightbrother’s features visibly relaxed. He seemed relieved. “I’ll ask you questions,” Ahsoka clarified pointedly. “And you’ll answer honestly.”

“Despite what you may believe, Lady Tano,” the Zabrak said quietly, “I have yet to lie to you a single time since we have met.”

“Is that so?” Ahsoka asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Back during the Siege, did I not reveal my true plans regarding your master when you asked me about them? I could have lied to you then. Most, knowing about the strong bond that often formed between Jedi Master and Padawan, would have lied.”

Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably in place and frowned. She didn’t like remembering what happened on Mandalore. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t like remembering anything that had to do with the Zabrak. All her memories involving him were accompanied by pain. Still, she couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Malachor,” she stated simply to counter his previous point.

“What of it? I offered to help your group be rid of the Inquisitorius chasing you, and did my part, as I recall.”

“Only to then turn around and betray us! You blinded Kanan and attacked me! Although you had claimed to need us in facing Vader!”

“Oh, but my young friend had by then set out to activate the temple’s weapon. I would not need you anymore. The fact I decided to dispose of you two former Jedi trainees was because of my faith in Ezra’s abilities.”

The Togruta stared down at the Zabrak incredulously, her mouth slightly agape. It took her a moment to get any words out. “Why, you slimy lump of –!”

“I proposed for us to work together to reach a common goal and we agreed upon no further alliance beyond that,” the Zabrak continued, absolutely unperturbed by Ahsoka’s obviously growing aggravation. “Once our plans began to diverge from one another, there was no point in continuing an association that neither party was interested in.”

“That type of logic seems conveniently slanted in your favor.”

“Of course it is,” Maul said, his eyes taking on a malevolent glint. “It is my logic.”

“By that token, I am to assume you will break whatever kind of truce this is at the first opportunity you get.”

“You proposed the game this time around, Lady Tano,” he replied. “You asked me to try and kill you. It would be unbecoming of me not to comply.”

Ahsoka tilted her head thoughtfully. “I suppose you have a point there,” she finally said. “In that case, I guess it would be a disservice to trust a single word you say. I did also propose we try to outwit one another.”

“Fair enough,” the Zabrak said. When Ahsoka didn’t say anything for a few moments, he cleared his throat softly, as though gently urging her to speak. However, the Togruta said nothing. She found it quite pointless to ask questions now, knowing she wouldn’t believe whatever answer the Nightbrother gave. Finally, the Dathomirian spoke up, saying, “Were you going to ask anything?”

Ahsoka frowned at the Zabrak, still unsure of what to say. Finally, she settled on a question she found puzzling that yet wouldn’t make much difference if the Sith lied to her about. She could find out the answer soon enough once they got back to her shuttle.

“The weapon you used to fight me outside,” she began, her gaze moving over to where she had placed it beside the fire, “what is it made of? It affected my lightsabers, but I couldn’t figure out how, or why.”

“It is called a gaderffii,” Maul replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up slightly. “Tusken design.”

“I recognized that much,” Ahsoka said, “but that doesn’t explain how –”

“In their culture, Sand People craft their first gaffi sticks as they’re preparing for their bloodrite. Do you know what that is?”

“Do I want to know?”

Maul grunted in amusement. “Probably not.” He continued, “Most are made out of wood, dried and petrified by the suns, and bone. As a warrior grows his prowess, fells more enemies – which they consider all off-worlders to be – they will craft better, more ornate versions out of whatever they scavenge. Chieftains have gaderffii made of salvaged metal, even durasteel. These are harder to manufacture, as Tusken have no forges and have poor smithing skills, but they make do.”

“Did you make yours?”

“Yes. I acquired the parts from Jawas,” he said, “Quite cheaply, too. They did not realize I wanted those specific pieces of metal they had among the junk. Since they could not work them into anything useful, or even cut them with their welders, they gave me the entire lot of it after I pretended to want something else. Foolish creatures had never heard of cortosis, let alone seen it, I’m sure.”

“Cortosis?” Ahsoka asked, surprised. “That’s rare, especially out here.”

“I saw the weave in the durasteel, even though it had been painted over. It looked like it had been part of the hull of some sand vessel, possibly a sail barge.”

Ahsoka felt a bit better. Cortosis weave – depending on the ratio of the material in the alloy – could short-out a lightsaber by redirecting the blade’s energy back into the hilt. The effect was temporary, which explained why her lightsabers were able to reignite with no problem when she recovered them. It also meant her weapons weren’t permanently damaged. Ahsoka almost let out a sigh of relief until she remembered not to believe a word out of the Zabrak’s mouth. He could very well have made the entire thing up on the spot. Instead, her breath whistled out of her teeth with a frustrated hiss.

“Would your mind be assuaged if I gave you my word not to lie?” Maul asked quietly, observing her reaction.

“No.” Ahsoka replied flatly, refusing to look over at the Sith and instead staring longingly over at the fire. “An oath from you means nothing to me.”

“You wanted this game, Lady Tano,” the Dathomirian murmured. “You did this to yourself.”

“You didn’t leave me much of a choice!” Ahsoka spat back, finally turning back to the prone figure beside her. “If you really have been here for years, as you claim, why did you wait until now to take back your weapon? Why did Obi-Wan have it to begin with, if you were still alive and nearby‽” The questions began pouring out of her in an angry torrent, with her unable to hold them back. “Why did he want me to believe you were dead, and why the skrog did you show up only now to complicate things for me‽” The Togruta pounded a fist into the earthen floor beside her foe’s shoulder, wishing instead she could punch it into his stomach.

Maul’s brow hitched up a bit in surprise, but he concealed it quickly. “I did not know you would arrive on Tatooine and would have never dreamed you would be seeking to take my old saberstaff,” he said measuredly. “As for Kenobi… do not ask me to make sense of whatever cryptic messages he sent to you from the Nether. We never understood each other back when the dotard was alive, let alone afterwards. I certainly did not ask him to keep my existence hidden. That he chose to do so is… interesting.”

“You’re very talkative for someone with a bruised lung,” Ahsoka quipped bitterly, averting her gaze once more while her lekku flushed slightly. She hadn’t meant to question Obi-Wan’s reasoning aloud, least of all in front of Maul.

“As for the lightsaber,” the Zabrak continued, “I left my weapon with him willingly. It was a… parting gift.” The Dathomirian smirked as he said these last words.

“Willingly?” the former Jedi said, raising an eye-ridge. “Is that why it’s cloven in two?”

“It was a brief duel,” Maul said dismissively. “Something I needed to get out of the way, in order to fulfill the prophecy I had seen in the holocrons. You are aware of the events that led me here, I assume?”

“The basics, sure,” the Togruta replied with a shrug, watching the small flames from the bonfire dance and cast flickering shadows in the distance. “I’ve been told of what you did to Ezra, how you used him to lead you to Obi-Wan.” She didn’t try to hide the angry edge from her voice.

“I needed to find Kenobi,” the Dathomirian said simply. “By any means necessary.”

“Was it worth it?” Ahsoka snarled, keeping her gaze averted. She was becoming so upset, she was afraid of what she’d do if she looked down and caught whatever amused expression was no doubt plastered on the damned Sith’s face. “Knowing the guilt you saddled Ezra with for months afterwards? Sabine told me he was plagued by visions all the way through up until his disappearance. And it was all because of you.”

“His disappearance‽” The Zabrak sounded alarmed, and wincing, Ahsoka realized she had once again slipped up and said more than she should. She heard Maul grunt with effort and then groan in pain as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. “Where is my apprentice?” There was legitimate concern in his voice, a sense of urgency bordering on despair.

“Ezra was never your apprentice,” Ahsoka growled, reaching over without looking and pushing the Dathomirian back down onto the ground. She considered saying nothing more but decided to elaborate a bit on her friend’s last known situation. If anything, just because it clearly mattered to the Zabrak, and he was incapable of doing anything about it at the moment.

“Purrgil took him and almost the entirety of the Imperial Seventh Fleet into hyperspace. His whereabouts – as well as Grand Admiral Thrawn’s – are unknown. Sabine Wren and I have been searching for him, were searching for him, before I was called here.”

Maul was silent for a long time. If it weren’t for his strained breathing from his attempt at moving, Ahsoka would have thought he had fallen asleep or lost consciousness. She could feel the Nightbrother’s eyes burning into the side of her head, could almost sense his apprehension, but even so, she refused to look at him. Remembering everything her friend went through – and what she herself had endured due to Maul’s actions – hardened her heart. She made sure to hang on to those thoughts, keep them ever-present in her mind, lest she forget exactly who she was dealing with. She had almost defaulted to feeling sorry for the Zabrak just moments earlier: despite her harsh attitude towards him, she was compassionate by nature, and at the moment, that was part of the problem. Focusing on Ezra and reminding herself that it had been Maul who had made the young man suffer helped the Togruta stop herself from feeling any type of empathy for her foe. Because he was her foe. It frustrated her that she had to keep reminding herself as much, in spite of everything.

“Once I am healed,” the Zabrak finally began, “perhaps I can help you find him.”

“Not a chance,” Ahsoka scoffed.

“If anyone would have a chance at locating him, it would be me. You know this, Lady Tano,” he insisted. “The bond which he and I established in the Force by uniting the holocrons could prove useful. His mind and mine remain linked; I am sure of it. And,” he added after a brief pause, “although it means nothing to you, I vow not to interfere with the boy further once he is found, if he so wishes. I… truly never meant him any harm.”

Ahsoka reluctantly turned to look down upon the fallen Sith. She knew she shouldn’t believe him, had just made a point to make sure he knew she wouldn’t, yet, as had happened in years past, she was drawn in by his words, in spite of herself. It was frustrating, to say the least, how willing she was to trust him. It was that damned voice of his! Unflinching, quietly confident, and that strong yet soothing cadence he spoke with. It was alluring, putting some primal part of her at ease. She had never judged Ezra for being taken in by Maul’s deceptions. However, that was all they were: deceptions and falsehoods. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw clenched.

“Never in a thousand years would I ever allow you anywhere near Ezra Bridger, physically or otherwise,” she growled, leaning over the prone figure, and jabbing a finger into his chest, above the actual wound, but close enough to where she knew the flesh was still tender. “Keep your pervasive darkness to yourself.”

Trusting herself around the Dathomirian no further, the former Padawan rose to her feet. “We’re done talking. It should only be a couple more hours before the first sun begins to rise anyway. Use your pain or hatred or greed or whatever it was you used back on Naboo to keep yourself awake and focused. In either case, I hope you suffer.”

She marched over to the bonfire and sat beside it cross-legged, deliberately turning her back to the wounded Zabrak. From a tactical perspective, she knew that left her open to attack, but she truly didn’t believe Maul was capable of moving much at all. She had heard the exertion in his voice when he’d attempted to get up. More than anything, she wanted to pretend he wasn’t there in the room with her, that he had never showed up at all, or perhaps that she had managed to kill him with that cycler blast. She couldn’t get the look of abject misery that had flitted across the Nightbrother’s features when she’d left him laying there on the ground, alone in the darkness, out of her head. He had been about to protest, she knew, but she had walked away before giving him the chance. Was he afraid? Had he been, back when Obi-Wan had cut him down all those decades ago? He looked forsaken, and Ahsoka had to bite down hard on her lip and clutch her hands into fists in her lap to keep her own frame from shaking. Cruelty was not something that came naturally to her, but she needed to keep a cold distance. In truth, she was afraid of Maul, of how conniving he was and how he would be able to manipulate her to his own ends if she weren’t careful. He was right in one thing: this was the game she had proposed they play, and now she needed to abide by her own rules. Let him rot, she told herself, scrunching her eyes shut. You’ve done all you could for vermin like him, now let him rot alone, in silence.

The hours remaining until the first sun of Tatooine rose were among the longest the Togruta had ever experienced.

Chapter Text

As soon as the sky began to change hue with the oncoming dawn, Ahsoka grabbed her satchel and went outside to prepare her speeder. She had spent the past few hours keeping herself busy: cleaning her utility vibroblade as best she could by rubbing down the various tools in the handle with sand. That would have to suffice until she got back to her ship and was able to give it a proper chem-rinse. At least she was able to remove the sticky black melon residue. She had then reorganized her supplies inside her backpack, making sure to rewrap Maul’s cane sheath with the bit of brown fabric from the strongbox, which she decided to leave behind. Her sabers, she kept secured to her own belt. The former Jedi had done everything in her power to keep herself from checking up on the felled Zabrak. She had continued to ignore him even after she heard him softly groan in pain and then take up those strange mutterings again. However, now with the approaching daylight, she knew she would have to face him again soon. Although she wanted to delay the inevitable, she also wanted to head back into town as early as possible. Part of her was regretting the deal she had made with the Dathomirian, but she couldn’t entertain the possibility of backing down now. She was beginning to think that, more than the bled kyber crystals in his saberstaff, he was the Sith weapon she had been sent to find. She wouldn’t put it past Obi-Wan.

By the time she was done triple-checking her speeder and making sure her things were secured snugly in place, the sky above was becoming a lavender-grey, with the far end of the horizon beginning to turn a blushing pink. A promising new day, she would have thought, under any other circumstances. Resigned, she walked back into the synstone abode.

Maul’s eyes were glassy, and he didn’t respond when she came into his line of sight. In fact, he made no acknowledgment of her presence whatsoever. His vacant eyes were staring at nothing; Ahsoka would have thought he was dead for sure had his lips not been moving still, silently mouthing incoherencies. She wasn’t sure if he were feigning to be in worse condition: he had been much livelier when she’d left him alone hours earlier, and she told herself it was possible – and probable – that he was trying to fool her into lowering her guard. Still, she knelt beside him and lay a hand on his brow. His skin was clammy, and he barely registered her touch, only flinching slightly, his eyes remaining unfocused. Ahsoka decided it was best to not try to speak to him at all and merely move him quickly. She didn’t even bother to check up on his wound, knowing it was best for him if she just got him proper medical attention as soon as she was able. Frowning, she readjusted the leather covering over him – it had become a bit loose during the night from where the Zabrak had struggled to move – and tucked the end of the tarp into its own folds as tightly as she could. She only hoped that would hold. Then, she got back up to her feet and held her hands out over Maul’s prone form, manipulating the Cosmic Force around him and levitating his body off the ground. The Dathomirian moaned faintly and Ahsoka heard him mumble something about chains, but he otherwise didn’t put up much resistance.

Once she had settled him into the side compartment of her rented speeder – he didn’t quite fit properly, so she had to prop his body into a scrunched, half-upright position that looked incredibly uncomfortable (even then he didn’t try to move) – she headed back inside the old home one final time to put out the fire, embers by now, and grab her ruined cloak. She didn’t want to leave any real evidence that would lead anyone to know who had been there, and for what purpose. Before exiting, she kicked the durasteel coffer back under the broken display table and then tipped the pieces of the latter over on top, making it seem like just another pile of rummaged rubble. There wasn’t much she could do about the dried bloodstains and splatter from where Maul fell, but she supposed no one would give them much significance: bandits and scavengers often ended partnerships or encounters in the most violent of ways. Just another dispute over loot, nothing to see here, folks.

Back outside, Ahsoka took her travelling robe and used it as padding around the Zabrak’s head. He was still muttering, back to using the strange language the Togruta couldn’t understand, and his head lolled to the side when she tried to adjust the fabric around his neck and skull. His eyes were rolled back in their sockets, and he was drooling. It occurred to Ahsoka that he might just be in as bad a shape as he seemed, possibly delirious. When she patted down his frame over the leather covering along his arms and to his hands, however, she realized he was still gripping both halves of his old weapon as tightly as ever. She could sense the same repulsive darkness encapsulating him, and she couldn’t smell fresh blood on him, so she supposed he was still responsive enough to keep himself alive for a while yet. Hopefully long enough for her to get him aboard her ship and get a proper prognosis on his state.

The trip to Mos Eisley was uneventful, and the Togruta could make out the buildings in the distance before the second sun had fully emerged over the dunes. For this, she was grateful, as she had been travelling at the top speed her vehicle could provide. The fewer amount of people noticed her entry into town, the better for her. She knew curious onlookers might confuse her for a bounty hunter bringing in a body to turn in for a reward and didn’t need to deal with guilds at the moment. Mos Eisley had become infinitely more dangerous than even before the Hutts controlled the area. Now, mercenaries set the rules, and rumor had it that soon, a war would break out on the desert planet between the Desilijic kajidic of Nal Hutta and the bounty hunters who had taken over Jabba’s palace. She didn’t need to get dragged into any of that nonsense.

She navigated her way quickly to the garage she had rented where she kept her T-6 shuttle. Leaving it there for the night had nearly drained her financially, but she hadn’t wanted to take the risk of leaving the ship docked at the outskirts of the spaceport. She would have been lucky to return and find it in pieces. She paid the droid in charge of the place and asked to borrow a hover-loader. This she used as a gurney to haul the Dathomirian onto her vessel. There was no need for anyone to know she had Force abilities, even a droid. Maul’s eyes were shut during the ordeal, but she could tell he was awake by the manner in which he held his body stiffly when she transferred him from the loader onto the med-bay table aboard her ship. Acting quickly, Ahsoka strapped him onto the metal slab and switched on the shuttle’s A.I. medical computer. As the pale green light began to sweep over the Zabrak’s body, Ahsoka touched his shoulder gently and told him, “Hold still. Diagnostics will take a few minutes to complete. In the meantime, I’ll get my payments sorted out so we can take off.”

This was the first time she was speaking to the Sith since the night before, and she felt a bit awkward doing so. She knew she didn’t owe him an explanation on anything she was about to do, but she also couldn’t treat him like a non-sentient animal, could she? She walked away from the med-bay quickly before her thoughts lingered on him any longer. He hadn’t answered her anyway, so Ahsoka wasn’t even sure he had been paying attention.

By the time Ahsoka got back on board, having paid and received her clearing code from the droid, as well as instructing the mech on where to return the speeder, the medical diagnostics had completed, and the ship’s artificial intelligence hologram ignited the instant she approached the table.

“What’s the status, Doc?” she asked the computer, speaking to it as though it were an old friend.

“The individual – a male Zabrak of undetermined age – appears to have a deep circular lesion caused by the collision and embedment of a foreign projectile.”

The Togruta rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that part. I shot him. How bad is it?”

“The sternum has been compromised. Although the manubrium remains intact, the lower part of the gladiolus is fractured, and the impact from the projectile has caused the xiphisternum to snap off and embed itself in the liver. Shrapnel has caused tears in the diaphragm and ruptures in the inferior sternopericardial ligament. There are minor burns throughout the body. He also has older wounds, including a horizontal bisecting laceration that has resulted in the loss of his lower extremities and part of his torso, including sections of his digestive system and all reproductive organs. These have been replaced by cybernetics, Mandalorian in design, if I am not mistaken.”

Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Maul remained still, and she was unsure if he was listening. He had to be awake, however, so she guessed he probably was. “Never mind the older wounds,” she said. “Go back to the more pressing ones. You were saying about his sternum?”

“The manubrium remains intact,” the hologram began again. “However, the gla –”

“You don’t need to repeat anything,” the Togruta clarified, growing irritated. “Just tell me: this requires surgery, doesn’t it?”

“Intensive surgery, and immediately.”

“How urgent is it?”

“Death is imminent within minutes after an injury of this type. The hemorrhaging of the liver alone is fatal. The damage to the diaphragm needs to be addressed as well, as the lungs will not be able to expand fully to oxygenate the blood. This will lead to hypoxia, which is also fatal. Due to the ruptured sternopericardial ligament, the pericardial sacs have become inflamed, causing pericarditis. This is an extremely painful condition which can cause scarring and restrict the hearts’ movements if not treated at once. The sacs may also fill with fluid, causing cardiac tamponade, which leads to fatally low blood pressure.”

Ahsoka gripped the edge of the table tightly, a knot forming in her throat. How many times did the diagnostic use the word fatal? Way too many; it was making her dizzy. To think that Maul had been doggedly pushing his body to live for hours now, when he should have expired within the first few minutes of that gunshot… Despite herself, the former Padawan began to feel guilt gnaw at her insides. His pleading eyes came to mind again, that look of hopelessness and despair when she’d walked away from him.

“There is also foreign organic material in the lesion,” the A.I. continued, “which must be cleansed out immediately before further treatment is pursued.”

“It’s fruit pulp,” Ahsoka muttered, feeling suddenly foolish at saying the words out loud. Maul had been right when he pointed out that the black melon remedy had really only served one purpose: to make her own conscience feel better. She hadn’t realized the injury was as bad as the diagnostic hologram was describing. Partly, that was due to how calm and articulated the Dathomirian had seemed during the entire ordeal. How in the world had he managed to form words in that state, let alone carry on a full conversation‽ Ahsoka had to fight a sudden urge to reach out and comfort him. I have nothing to apologize for! she told herself, but that did nothing to help her remorse.

“For the most part, that is correct,” the hologram stated. “However, the scan detected that some of the organic matter within the wound is a type of fauna.”

“What‽”

“My database on the lifeforms of this planet is incomplete,” the medical computer added, “I cannot identify the exact type. However, they are invertebrates of some sort.”

Remembering the brown beetles which she had seen in the bedding back at the old hut, Ahsoka began to remove the straps off of Maul in order to unwrap him more easily from the leather tarp. The Dathomirian let out a small sigh as she did so, the only sign he had made thus far of acknowledging what was going on around him. Once the covering was out of the way, Ahsoka was stunned to find that there weren’t beetles of any kind crawling over the Zabrak’s form.

They were blood-ants.

Ahsoka gawked at the scene before her. She was used to seeing carnage, having been exposed to the atrocities of war since she became a Padawan, but even this seemed too much for her. The Zabrak’s wound – and indeed his entire chest area – was covered in the insects. They swarmed all over his exposed flesh, biting at his skin, although Ahsoka noticed they avoided the pieces of melon over his wound. Blood-ants were large insects: about the size of her fingernails, and they made towers out of the desert sands. They got their moniker not due to their color, but because of their apparent fondness for the bodily fluids of injured creatures. Perhaps due to the harsh climate of Tatooine, they had no better way to keep hydrated. They produced no real venom, but were constantly licking their pincers, and their saliva tended to cause painful allergic reactions in most other species. This would usually make the flesh where they bit swell up, sending more blood to the area. These secretions also served as a blood thinner, meaning the bugs were able to get more of their desired ambrosia. Even non-natives of Tatooine such as herself knew to give the sand-towers a wide berth if they encountered them in the desert dunes. Now Ahsoka understood why the Nightbrother had begun groaning during the night. Worse still was knowing she couldn’t just swat them off him, as that would probably worsen his injury.

Hastily, she reached just below the lip of the metal table and drew out a thin nozzle attached to a mesh hose. This was connected to a sterilized supply of air. It was for use in flushing small particles out of delicate membranes, such as the eyes or gills, but all the Togruta had ever used it for since she had acquired the shuttle was to spot-dry her clothes when she accidentally spilled liquid on them. Now, she took aim and sent short puffs of the cold air across the Dathomirian’s torso, jettisoning most of the insects off him and onto the floor, where she crushed them with her boot. A couple of the ants bit down harder and hung on by their serrated mandibles. Ahsoka flinched and cursed under her breath. She saw Maul make a grimace at the sensation. The Togruta pulled medical tweezers from another compartment beneath the table and began picking off the remaining bugs from the Zabrak’s chest one at a time. He grunted but didn’t protest.

“Dwang,” the former Jedi gasped under her breath as she worked. “When did all these get on you? And why didn’t you say anything‽”

Maul finally cracked his eyes open slightly and regarded her. When Ahsoka met his gaze, she was surprised to see he looked somewhat amused. His wince of discomfort was turned up ever so slightly at the corners, and he bared his teeth viciously at her in what could have passed for a pained grin. “Used them,” he sneered softly, “to stay awake. They were… more help… to me than you.”

Ahsoka felt blood rushing up to her head, flooding her lekku and then washing back into her cheekbones. She felt simultaneously relieved that he was still cognizant enough to speak, yet his cold mockery wounded a deep part of her conscience. Didn’t he realize how hard it had been for her, to treat him the way she had‽ She didn’t consider herself the best person by any means – she had her faults, and she acknowledged them on the daily – but she liked to think she was at least somewhat decent, and she did her best to be kind. Ignoring another’s suffering went against the very fiber of the moral code she lived by: that when someone needed her help, she would offer what aid she could. Her vision blurred as, against her will, tears sprang up to her eyes. If anyone deserved to be left alone to die in squalor and misery, it was the horrid fiend before her, and yet it had taken so much of her will power to keep a cold distance, ignore his pleading eyes. The implication – no, the accusation of his words was that she was just as callous as he, just as much of a lowlife. The level of cruelty he was capable of, even when his state was so dire, was appalling to her. He truly was taking great pleasure out of whatever sick match they had embarked upon.

“I should let you die,” Ahsoka said quietly, blinking the tears away. Her throat felt tight; it was difficult for her to get the words out, even. She broke eye contact and went back to removing the ants from the Zabrak’s chest.

Maul made no further comment and the Togruta was able to finish her task without much fuss on his part. She wisely kept her own mouth shut; she wanted to offer no incentive that would get the Dathomirian talking to her again. Once finished, she returned her attention to the A.I.

“Is there something you can do in the meantime to stabilize his condition?” she asked as she fastened the Zabrak back down. She made sure to tighten the straps a bit more than she should. If he wanted her to act the villain, she would do so, she told herself. “I don’t think there’s a medical establishment on this planet with the necessary equipment or personnel to handle this type of procedure.”

“Your assessment is accurate,” the hologram asserted. “I have already scanned the docking port’s mainframe, and the options here are quite dismal. You most certainly need to get off planet in order to find a suitable facility. Unfortunately, there is little that can be done for this individual. All recorded knowledge of similar lesions indicate they have resulted in death. Against all logic, the wound appears to be in a static state somehow. The blood around the area does not circulate, and the beats per minute are on the low end of the spectrum, for one of this species. I do not know how long this physical state will last, although I doubt that he has much longer to live. You would never get him proper aid on time.”

“Don’t worry about that,” the former Jedi said, glancing down at the Zabrak. “He can hold on for a while longer yet. His is a… um, unique circumstance.”

“Very well,” the medical computer said, “I will make adjustments to my knowledge matrix if he survives. In that case, I should say that administering serum or bacta fluid is not recommended until after surgery repairs the damage done to the bone and ligaments. Perhaps a pain killer or sedative would aid in the individual’s comfort level, but that is all.”

“No,” the Dathomirian growled. “None of that.” He paused as he struggled to breathe. The entire ordeal seemed to be tiring him out. Ahsoka was surprised it had taken him that long to begin showing the effects of the strain on his body. “Need to… focus.”

The Togruta frowned. “He doesn’t want pain medication, so don’t administer any,” she told the hologram. “Just monitor his state and let me know the moment he’s no longer stable. In either case, we need to depart soon,” Ahsoka added, mostly talking to herself. “This place charges by the standard hour. The clearance code I received will only be good for a few minutes more. Thanks for the info, Doc. Keep me in the know, okay?”

“Affirmative,” the medical A.I. responded crisply, the hologram fading back into the projector in the wall.

As she began to walk towards the cockpit, Maul called out weakly, “Where will you travel to from here?”

“I’ll figure things out as I go, let me get airborne first,” she replied, taking the captain’s seat. Frowning, she began to switch on the panels that would power the engines up. She transmitted the clearance code into the ship’s mainframe and felt the garage’s security mechanism accept the sequence and release the docking magnets from her shuttle. “Either way,” she said loudly over her shoulder as the primary engines roared to life, “it’s really none of your kriffing business.”

The Zabrak said no more, and Ahsoka made a point to obsess over takeoff and departure procedures. Even after she was in-flight and zooming towards the upper levels of Tatooine’s atmosphere, she kept manual control of the craft, although by this point, many fliers would have already switched over to autopilot. She needed to keep her hands busy, and her mind too, at least partway, to keep herself numb to the situation at hand. Now would be an excellent time, she knew, to reach out to the New Republic. She had the encryption codes for the safe channels of communication, and Luke, at the very least, was awaiting news from her. It wasn’t until the T-6 was safely cradled in the quiet dark embrace of space that Ahsoka set the vessel to hover in orbit around the desert planet while she sat and truly began to go over her options.

Pulling up the Intergalactic Atlas up on her ship’s main screen, she studied the various trade routes and destinations, considering which planet would be best to get to. She knew she didn’t have much time to decide. Now that she knew how gravely injured the Zabrak was, Ahsoka was concerned he wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer, regardless of his prowess in the Dark Side. She needed him alive: the crystals he was currently in possession of were too valuable, too dangerous. The former Jedi was worried about the backlash of Dark Force energy they would emit if Maul expired, seeing as how deeply he seemed to have bonded himself to them. She was suddenly reminded of the Sixth Brother’s demise, of the explosion caused by the kyber crystals overloading the power connection in the hilt they were in at the time. Those crystals – now hers – had rejected the Inquisitor’s aura over hers because they had been forced to serve him. The situation with Maul was different, of course, as were the crystals he held. She had seen the Dathomirian, too, subjugate the bled kyber crystals, had felt it through the Force. However, these crimson gems had seemed to almost embrace his dark influence. In fact, she had sensed them resonate to his presence the moment he had arrived outside Obi-Wan’s old home, before she even knew who it was she was facing. The crystals knew, however. They remembered their master, and in that moment, had set themselves even more furiously against her, costing her the skirmish and almost rendering her unconscious. How much more would their hate compound if he were no longer alive to rein them in? Absentmindedly, the Togruta reached up and rubbed her brow, recalling the excruciating pain in her skull. She wasn’t keen on experiencing that again.

There were really only a handful of systems Ahsoka could get to in a timely manner, and, being in the Outer Rim, none really had the advanced medical technology she believed were required to save her unwilling passenger. With a sigh, she downloaded the IGA into her gauntlet projector and walked back over to the med bay. Although she had told him otherwise, she deemed it only fair that the Dathomirian have a say in what ultimately happened to him regarding his treatment. When she reached his side, she pressed a button on the metal table, which made it fold up a bit, propping him up into a reclined posture. Maul eyed her warily, but she noticed the lines in his face relaxed a bit. He seemed more comfortable that way, and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed seemed a bit steadier. Remembering what the shuttle’s medical A.I. had told her about his diaphragm, the Togruta realized he had probably had more difficulty breathing in a completely prone position. Both guilt and irritation flashed in the back of Ahsoka’s mind. Why the skrog didn’t he tell her anything‽

“There’s really nowhere I can get you to that has facilities capable of performing the type of surgery you require,” she said flatly. No use easing him into the news.

“I know.”

“Not legally, anyway,” she added, pulling up the hologram on her gauntlet. “I’m sure some of these places have imported technology from elsewhere, but only the highest levels of society: those with wealth or power – or both – will have access to it. I have neither of those things.”

“That… has been by choice… I take it?”

He was having more trouble breathing. Great. His condition was worsening before her eyes, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She decided to ignore both his comment and the nagging worry that was nibbling at her mind. They needed to make a decision, and soon.

“The closest planet is Ryloth, if I take the Turnaround,” she explained, enhancing the projection.

“They’re neutral,” Maul muttered hoarsely. “Not part of… the New Republic. Can’t get… shit done there. They have… no… funds.” He paused to take a few ragged breaths. “Twi’leks can’t even… fix their own… affairs. Their government… barely functions.”

“Thanks for the civics lesson, Gramps, but save your breath,” Ahsoka quipped, raising an eye-ridge. “You seem to be losing your grip over this tactic you’re using. How about I point out systems and you either just nod or shake your head?”

“Letting me… choose, Lady Tano?”

“It’s your body, your death, pal.” The Togruta quickly turned her attention back to the hologram hovering over her forearm, uncomfortably aware that she had instinctively taken on a more casual tone with the Sith, approaching comradery, even. What the skrog, Ahsoka? she chided herself, her lekku twitching irately. Nicknames and everything, sheesh. “Socorro,” she pointed out on the projection. “It’s not on the Turnaround’s actual trajectory, but it’ll take us close enough to where we can reach it in a few hours, tops.”

Maul shook his head. “Nothing but… pirates and… rocks,” he said. Apparently, he couldn’t help but adding commentary anyway, breathing be damned. Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

“Seylott.”

“More pirates,” the Zabrak said, frowning. “Black Sun… controls it.”

Ahsoka tilted her head to the side, looking at the Nightbrother curiously. “Didn’t you control the Black Sun at some point? Wouldn’t they aid you?”

To this, Maul grinned, his features fierce and wicked. “Not likely,” he said, “didn’t part on… good terms.”

“I’ll bet,” she replied, and returned her attention to her gauntlet. “Mumble’s Turnaround will eventually take us just past Savareen, although we could get there directly if we take the Turnaround to Ryloth and from there jump on the Corellian Run at the junction. Savareen is similar to Ryloth in that the planet has few resources and fewer technology, but I have allies there. A friend who might be able to help.”

“Is your… friend a surgeon?”

Ahsoka fixated the Zabrak in place with a deadpan look. “No,” she answered stonily, “but they lead the Cloud-Raiders. They may have access to more advanced medical technology, maybe even a surgical droid.”

Maul coughed out a harsh laugh. “You mean the… Cloud-Raiders… who fought… so vehemently… against the Crimson Dawn?”

Ahsoka frowned. He had a point. “Everyone thought Vos was the leader of that organization,” she mused. “Very few of us knew the truth.”

“Will you… lie to your friend?” the Zabrak asked, his grin widening. At Ahsoka’s obvious discomfort, he shook his head. “Didn’t… think so.” He then closed his eyes and took a few shallow breaths. “In… either case,” he added, “you wouldn’t… need to lie. Enfys Nest is… familiar with me. Smart kid... wants my… head.”

“That’s a no, then?” the Togruta pouted. “There’s really nowhere else close by. We could try to get to Rodia, which is farther out, but it would take too long to get there, even if we used the Run to bypass the extra stops of the Turnaround.” She paused as she studied the map projection further. “Although…” she said thoughtfully, more to herself than Maul, “the distance between Rodia and Tatooine is really much shorter than even Ryloth. There’s just no direct space lane.”

“Too much… space debris…” the Dathomirian muttered, eyes still closed, “for hyperspace travel… to be safe. Besides,” he winced as he adjusted himself on the table, and opened his eyes into a squint, observing her, “with its… ties to the… Empire, I’d have… a better chance… with Nest.”

“Rodia is a part of the New Republic now,” Ahsoka countered with a frown. “They only remained as part of the Empire by force, as so many other worlds did. They helped the Rebellion during the Civil War.”

“The… people did,” Maul replied. “Their government… did not.” Seeing as how he still seemed to have more to say, Ahsoka waited for him to continue. After catching his breath again, the Sith stated, “the Rodians… opposed the… resolution to… aid Jakku. They have been… in the pocket… of cartels… since the days… of the Empire.” He grinned again at the end before adding, “I should know.”

Ahsoka shook her head. “Then I’m out of ideas, and you’re out of options. Where am I supposed to take you? Iskalon? Vergesso? Those are even further out along the Turnaround, and I’m not even sure that asteroid is in the sector at the moment.” She ran a hand over the back of her montrals, exasperated. She knew all of Maul’s objections were actually valid: there really was no easy approach to this mess. She wasn’t sure how he was current in his knowledge about the political affairs of the surrounding planetary systems, but she assumed he had some type of communication network in place still. Which led her to an idea. “Don’t you have allies somewhere still who might help you?” she asked. “The Crimson Dawn does have some presence in Savareen.”

“I lost all… ties to the… underground… after my… isolation on… Malachor,” the Sith explained. He was sounding more winded by the minute. “Even Qi’Ra believes… I’m dead. Better to… keep it that way.”

“In that case, all we have is what I suggested.” Ahsoka stated. “Rodia is the planet with the most advanced civilization nearby and is guaranteed to have the necessary equipment and personnel to treat your wound. Still, it’s also the furthest out, unless we bypass the hyperspace routes completely.” The former Padawan bit her lip, staring at the holograph projection. “If I make several small jumps…”

“How will you… manage that?” the Zabrak growled. “Do you… know where the… debris will be? It’s a… floating scrapyard… out there.”

“Well, I know where the Tatoo system dumps their junk,” Ahsoka replied, frowning. “I can do a jump from here onto the outskirts of the system, then I’ll have to fly past that deposit area before jumping into hyperspace. I also know more or less where the Tyrius system ejects their trash, too, so I can stop the ship before those coordinates, approximately, and navigate through the field. Then it’s just a quick, clear jump to Rodia.” She was aware that she was making it sound a lot easier than it actually was, and that was more for her own peace of mind than the Nightbrother’s. Maul saw right through it, however, and he shook his head slightly. Ahsoka noticed how feeble his movements were becoming.

“The debris is… always moving,” he mumbled, his head beginning to droop tiredly.

“I know that,” the Togruta snapped, enlarging the hologram on her gauntlet as much as she could. “This latest Atlas shows the primary deposits from both systems, and over the years, several different clusters have formed that are held mostly in place by the suns’ gravitational pull, leaving them in a type of limbo. It’s doable. Tricky, yeah, but possible. No more difficult than navigating an asteroid belt. It would also take less than half of the time of taking the hyperspace lanes.” Upon saying this, she finally switched off the projection and let her arm drop down to her side, allowing her to observe the wounded Zabrak properly. His skin looked ashen and his eyes were taking on that glassy look again. No, she told herself, he definitely doesn’t have enough time left for me to take the normal travel routes.

Maul only grunted softly in reply. Decided, Ahsoka walked back briskly and took the captain’s seat once more. Now that she had determined a plan, she felt more alert, despite the lack of sleep. Punching in the coordinates on the navigational computer, she gunned all three engines and sped off, putting as much distance between her craft and the planet so she could enter hyperspace. She needed to be clear of the moons before doing so. She was travelling from nearly the center of the solar system – Tatooine was the first planet in the system’s orbit – so the first jump would take a few minutes. Thankfully, the Tatoo system wasn’t too large, so it wouldn’t be too long of a wait.

Partway through the jump, she heard Maul cough again as he struggled to breathe deeply enough. She got up quickly from her seat and went to check on him: she knew the ship would pull out of hyperspace on its own, and the next leg of their trip would require her undivided attention. Better to ensure his well-being now, and make sure he didn’t become a distraction later.

Of course, he was still conscious, his eyes scrunched shut and brow furrowed in consternation. He could feel himself weakening, she knew. Gently, she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched immediately.

“No…” he growled, opening his golden eyes to glare at her. “Not pity. Give me… something to… hate.”

Ahsoka blinked, surprised and a bit confused. “I… I don’t understand what you mean,” she stammered, but that wasn’t completely true. She thought she knew; she just didn’t want to believe it.

“Through passion…” he muttered, “I gain strength.”

“By that, you mean… powerful emotions? That’ll keep you awake?”

“Hate me.”

“Tough break, old man,” she replied, meeting his fiery gaze with a cool stare. “I don’t operate that way. I’m not sure I can hate anyone, not even an asshole like you.”

“Then… pain,” he replied, straining a bit against the straps holding him down. “Give me… pain.”

“How?” Ahsoka said, flinching. “That is absurd, I won’t!”

“Then I… die.”

“Can’t your kyber crystals fuel you anymore?”

“Not… fuel,” the Dathomirian said irately. “They are… only tools… aiding in focus.”

The former Padawan frowned thoughtfully. “Right, they help focus your will, connect you to the Force, like an extension of your being. Much like they are for the Jedi, I suppose.” She looked around herself helplessly. “I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do, honestly,” she said at last.

“Hurt me!”

Ahsoka balked, removing her hand from the Dathomirian’s shoulder. “I already told you: I can’t. It’s not in me.”

The Zabrak glowered at her, his lips pulled back into a snarl. “Punch me… or bite me,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Better yet… stab your fingers… into the blasted hole… in my chest!”

The Togruta could feel the blood drain from her face and she shuddered. “N-no…” she stammered, suddenly nauseous. What kind of sick Sith technique was this‽ “You… you told me that as long as you were determined to live, your will would be enforced by those kyber crystals, by the Dark Side of the Force! Isn’t that what you meant back at the hut? So, find it in yourself to stay alive, and leave me out of it!”

Maul nodded. “My body… grows numb,” he explained. “I… cannot feel… anything… anymore. And my… conscious mind… is slipping.” He looked at her with anxious eyes, and Ahsoka couldn’t meet his gaze. She turned away with a wince. “Hurt me…” he repeated. “Give me… something to hate…”

“I’m sure you already hate me,” Ahsoka muttered, her face still averted. “So how about you focus on that?”

“I don’t… hate you… nearly enough,” the Zabrak replied. To which the former Jedi chanced a glance at him, incredulous. “You are… insufferable, but not at… Kenobi’s level… yet.” Ahsoka was shocked to see the Dathomirian attempting to smile at her. Was he trying to make a joke? There was genuine fear in his dreadful Sith eyes, and his lips trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly. The Togruta felt a knot form in her throat once more. “Please…” he whispered, and even from where she stood, she could hear his shame in that barely audible murmur.

She wanted to walk away from him just then, as she had back on Tatooine. What he was asking of her was ludicrous, awful, repulsive. Desperate. He was dying; she recognized as much. It was an all too familiar sensation she had felt decades before, during the execution of Order 66, and afterwards as well, as surviving Jedi were hunted down and slaughtered, as well as any Force-sensitives who resisted their induction into the Inquisitorius program. She had even sensed that same awful emotion when Alderaan was destroyed by the Death Star. It was the feeling of a Force-sensitive life extinguishing. As time went on, and with fewer and fewer of them left, each death sent a ripple through the Cosmic Force that reached her. She had felt when Obi-Wan had died, and Master Yoda… even when Anakin killed the Emperor and himself along with his master. Sensing it begin again, now with Maul… although he was a Dark Side user – a Sith, all that was left of Sidious’s lineage – it still made her stomach turn. She couldn’t, wouldn’t allow herself to walk away again. If someone needed help… no matter what that aid required of her…

Ahsoka didn’t let herself think. Tears sprang up to her eyes and spilled out freely as she leaned forward and buried her face in the crook of Maul’s neck. He smelled awful: of sweat and dirt and durasteel and… something just as metallic, blood. Shaking uncontrollably, she jabbed the pad of her thumb hard just above the wound in his sternum, where hours before, not knowing how serious his condition was, she had stabbed her index finger at him in anger. The fruit pulp and coagulated blood made her hand slip down more than she had intended, and she felt the flesh give where the bone and cartilage were shattered. By the stars, she felt a splinter of bone poke at her digit before imbedding itself deeper into the Zabrak’s chest. The Sith’s body stiffened in response and his spine arced, a dreadful howl escaping his lips as he strained against the table’s fastenings. His cry rang in her montrals and she couldn’t stop a sob from overtaking her. She could hear his teeth grinding together in pain, and she brought her other hand up to his face instinctively, stroking his cheek with trembling fingers. What had she done, what had she done‽

Just then, she felt the carmine crystals clenched tightly in his fists emit a burst of dark energy, but this was quickly diverted towards the Nightbrother’s chest, becoming one with his Life Force, and yes, fueling him, empowering him. That energy brushed past her own aura as it rushed into him, and Ahsoka was stunned to find it was rather warm – repugnant, yes, but comforting all the same. Like the slimy wet tongue of domestic livestock: foul but harmless. Perhaps because it wasn’t aimed at her, and not meant to harm, but rather to heal, or at least maintain an inert state of the Zabrak’s lesion.

All of these things happened in an instant. The Togruta barely had time to register what had transpired – what she had made herself do – before she was suddenly hurled back away from the Sith by that same dark energy. That time, however, it was meant to hurt her, and she hit the cabinet opposite the med bay with a loud crash.

On the metal slab, the Dathomirian remained still, his chest heaving as fresh blood sprang forth from the wound. After a few seconds, it had ceased to bleed. His breathing steadied once more, and Ahsoka could swear there was a look of satisfaction, almost pleasure on his features through the pain. It truly made her feel sick. His eyes squeezed shut tightly, he muttered, “My apologies… Lady Tano.”

Ahsoka didn’t answer, and she didn’t pick herself up right away either, instead curling up into a sitting position and wrapping her arms around her knees. She buried her face in her arms to stifle out her weeping but didn’t do a very good job of it. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking, and not for the first time, she wished she were far away from the Nightbrother. Now she smelled like blood, too, as the front of her shirt and her hand were smeared with it. Monster, she thought. He’s a monster, and now, so am I. The thought caused her to dry heave.

Just then, the shuttle’s navigational computer beeped a warning. They were about to exit hyperspace. On unsteady feet, the former Jedi made her way to the captain’s chair and buckled herself in. She didn’t worry about Maul: he was strapped down tightly enough.

She had taken control of the shuttle not a moment too soon, for just as they exited warp speed, the Togruta was greeted by floating rubble. Apparently, the debris cloud created by Tatoo’s waste had moved just a bit closer to the system than the IGA predicted, probably due to the pull of its dual suns. Ahsoka was forced to perform evasive maneuvers almost at once, for which she was honestly thankful, as it kept her thoughts from lingering on the wounded Dathomirian.

Fortunately, she was able to manipulate the T-6 around the dump site without much problem. Tatooine was a barren planet, with not many resources to use up, so the culture had developed to fully make use of anything available: from mechanical components to perishables, clothing, and weapons. By the time an item ended up being dumped, it had really been put to use on the planet. Because Tatooine’s people weren’t so wasteful, their floating junkyard was rather small compared to others throughout the galaxy, and the trash that was there was nearly disintegrated already. She was clear of the largest obstacles in less than half an hour. A few minutes more, and all that remained ahead of her ship was the blackness of space.

Pulling up the Atlas again, the Togruta studied her coordinates. Chances were, if Tatoo’s floating scrapheap had shifted more than the IGA assumed, so would the one just outside Tyrius. She adjusted her hyperjump trajectory to compensate for possible anomalies, shortening the jump by less than a parsec. This might add as much as an extra hour of travel time, depending on the amount of space junk she encountered when they arrived, but it was a necessary precaution she needed to take. No use in reaching their destination just to damage the shuttle and leave them stranded in the outskirts of the system. If that happened, it might take days, even weeks before another vessel was able to pick them up. The Zabrak would be dead by then for sure. Ahsoka frowned. She really didn’t want to think about Maul.

She activated the hyperdrive immediately after, and once the ship was on its way, she unbuckled herself and rose from the seat. She walked past the med bay briskly without bothering to cast even a glance in Maul’s direction. There was no need to: without looking, she could tell the Sith was in a more stable condition than before. Not only could she sense the darkness thickening around him but could hear his breath coming forth in a steadier rhythm. And truth be told, she didn’t want to see him. Instead, she headed down the short hallway towards her quarters. She needed a shower, or at least a change of clothes. This second leg of the trip was going to take a bit longer, so she knew she had the time.

The refresher aboard her ship was small and plain, and originally the small shower stall only offered the sonic option. However, Ahsoka had long ago made enhancements herself and added jets that ejected water at varying pressures and temperatures. She was aware that sonic showers were probably the quicker and more hygienic of the alternatives, but there was simply something about feeling hot water washing away grime and sweat that a sonic couldn’t duplicate. The powerful pressure streams helped to relax tired muscles and there was nothing better than heat and steam to open up pores and help skin feel raw and clean. Ahsoka was really looking forward to losing herself in the stall for a while.

Upon entering her quarters, she grabbed a pair of clean pants and a top, then headed for the refresher down the hall. Although she was at first delighted to enter the washing stall and begin her shower, only a few minutes had passed before the guilt she had been ignoring for so long began to seep back into her mind. She wondered how the Zabrak must feel, alone on the cold metal slab. As the hot streams of water and floral-scented disinfectant washed away her sweat and traces of his blood, she realized Maul himself was still rather grimy, and couldn’t do anything except lay there in his own stink. She wrinkled her nose at the memory of his scent – sour and metallic – when she’d pressed her face against his neck. A flush rose up to her lekku and cheeks, and it wasn’t due to the scalding water. How was she supposed to enjoy a good cleansing when he was wounded, dying at that, in his own spit and blood and sweat? Ahsoka rubbed at her face and montrals, but that only caused her pain when her fingers passed over the tender spot on her temple where the Dathomirian had punched her. Yeah, she would need to take serum for that. Damn it all, she shouldn’t need to feel guilty! Her emotions kept fluctuating between anger and pity, with a good dose of self-loathing. She couldn't get his pained howl out of her head when she had… She began retching again, and hot tears mingled with the water vapor. Never in her life had she felt so filthy, and she realized that no setting on the shower stall would make her feel unsullied again. Not for a while, at least.

In the end, she gave up trying to enjoy the cleanse, and left the stall no sooner had the warm air dried her just enough to where she was no longer dripping. Her skin still felt damp, and her clean clothes stuck to her a bit, but she didn’t care. She put her headdress back on before walking out of the room. She briefly considered giving her utility vibroblade that much-needed chem-rinse, but knew she was only stalling for time, to keep herself from facing the felled Sith again. Not to mention, that guilt wouldn’t leave her be, for what kind of person would give priority to equipment over a living being? Reluctantly, she headed back to the med-bay.

Maul was still laying on the medical table where she’d left him. (Of course he was, where else was he supposed to go? His wound rendered him practically immobile, and even if he’d had the energy to move about, she’d taken the precaution to strap him down, hadn’t she?) Ahsoka felt his eyes following her as she approached the area, and as she went to the supply cabinet right beside the table to remove a vial of the healing fluid and downed it in one gulp.

“Feeling better?” the Zabrak asked, his voice back to its natural smoothness. If she had remained with her back to him and not known in what mangled state his body was in, she would have assumed he was fine. If anything, his volume was just a few decibels lower than his normal speaking range. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at herself. What did she even know about what Maul normally sounded like? Just because she’d had run-ins with him a couple of times over the years meant nothing. Which made her take pause. Now that she thought about it, she really didn’t know much about the Dathomirian, save for the few tidbits Obi-Wan and Anakin had warned her about when she was still working with the Jedi Order.

“I see… you’re back to… ignoring me.”

Ahsoka spun around and glared at the Zabrak, her lekku flushing a bit despite herself. She actually hadn’t meant to not answer him. Although she wasn’t keen on having a conversation either, she had simply gotten lost in her own thoughts. She didn’t even know what to say to him. The situation at hand was just too awkward. “I’m not ignoring you,” she muttered, stooping down and opening one of the compartments beneath the table. “Although I should.”

She took a pack of moist disinfectant wipes from the drawer and kept her eyes fixated on them so she wouldn’t have to look at Maul when she asked, “So, um, you’re an absolute mess –”

“Thank you,” the Sith said, sounding amused. “Very… perceptive of you.”

Ahsoka pursed her lips to keep herself from snapping at him. “You want me to wipe that grit off your face or not?” she demanded, uncomfortably aware at her own newly pristine state. She chanced a glance at him and felt her face and lekku blush once more, feeling embarrassed and inadequate. “I mean, may I? That… that can’t feel good at all, wallowing in your own fluids.”

“There is a… gaping hole… bigger than… my fist… shattering my chest,” he replied, but his tone wasn’t accusatory. “The cleanliness of my face… does not concern me… just now.”

The Togruta winced. Of course, he was right about that, but there was nothing else she could do for him at the moment. She fidgeted in place, wondering what to say. By the stars, when was the last time she had fidgeted? She felt as insecure as a temple youngling. Before she could say anything, though, Maul rolled his eyes and sighed. “Jedi altruism,” he muttered, then offered up a half-shrug. “Go ahead.”

Ahsoka let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding in and her shoulders relaxed a bit. She understood what the Zabrak had implied by mentioning the Jedi’s teachings: much like the black melon pulp remedy she had used to attempt to patch him up, cleaning off Maul’s face was more for her own benefit than his. It gave her something to do that would placate her conscience, for although she knew there was no reason for her to feel guilty over what had occurred, her empathetic nature and yes, the morals with which the Order had raised her, made her feel responsible to some degree anyway.

She stepped up closer to the table to where she could feel the cold durasteel of the edge press into her upper thighs. Removing one of the damp cloths from the packet, she leaned forward as she reached towards the Dathomirian’s face and began to wipe at his brow. She did her best to ignore the sensation of his warm skin through the material, for it oddly humanized him, made him seem less like a beast in her eyes and more like any other poor schlep she’d run into over the years. She didn’t want to think that beneath the malevolent exterior, behind those golden-red eyes of the Dark Side was a person, a sentient being like any other. With hopes and dreams? Ambitions, she corrected herself, frowning. One of those involved her death, she was sure. Why did she need to keep reminding herself?

All too soon, the first wipe was filthy, and Ahsoka hadn’t even cleaned beyond Maul’s forehead and temples. She made a grimace of disgust as she set that one aside and fished another out of the pack in her other hand. “Dwang, did you ever bathe on Tatooine‽” she grumbled under her breath, not really expecting an answer.

“No one bathes… on Tatooine,” the Nightbrother replied. “Sonics or… abrasion showers… is all you get.”

“Right,” Ahsoka said, her lekku quivering, irate with herself. “Desert planet. My bad.”

She cleaned off his eyelids and the area around them, taking her time to get the tiny particles of sand out of all the little crevices. She wanted to keep those eyes closed, so he wouldn’t look at her with that unnervingly unhateful stare. When he beheld her, there was a combination of amusement and curiosity in his gaze, a type of begrudging patience mingled with… goodness knows what. It wasn’t animosity, or even anger, and this is what threw her off. She realized he’d always looked at her in that fashion, ever since she’d met him on Mandalore, when he’d held an outstretched hand towards her in an offer she almost took. Almost.

Maul held absolutely still as Ahsoka continued to wipe the rest of his face clean. It was until after she had cleansed away the blood and spit, sweat and dirt that she noticed he had small burns on one side of his face, and she remembered that she’d knocked him into a bonfire headfirst.

“I can put a bacta patch on that,” she offered, gesturing to the lesions once she was done. She used a final towelette – she used up a total of nine – to wipe her hands and pick up the others to throw them in the medical waste disposal unit.

The Zabrak shook his head. “Won’t work,” he muttered, shrugging. “The technique… keeping me alive… nullifies all of my body’s… reactions to… external stimuli. Allowing only… time for the body… to mend itself. For good or ill.”

Ahsoka quietly considered his words and in the end, shook her head. The Dark Side was a cruel enigma to her, a mystery she didn’t want to unravel. How anyone could live adherent to that philosophy was beyond her understanding.

“You should sleep,” Maul suddenly said, bringing her out of her musings. “Would… do you well.”

Ahsoka shot the Zabrak a skeptic look, to which he chuckled. “No… ulterior motives,” he assured her. “Just trying to… get us both out of… an uncomfortable situation.”

Well, that made some sense to her, she supposed, although she was a bit surprised that the Dathomirian would admit to feeling anything but smugness since they ran into each other again. He certainly hadn’t demonstrated anything but. And she was tired. The serum had helped – a lot. She could already feel the swelling at her temple going down significantly, but she knew she did need the rest. She hadn’t slept for nearly three standard days… or was it four? Even before reaching Tatooine, she had been restless. Sabine had worried that Ahsoka wouldn’t get any sleep at all once they parted ways, for the young Mandalorian would go out of her way to ensure the Togruta spent a few hours each rotation resting. “Who’s going to make sure you eat and sleep regularly?” the girl had worried as she transferred her belongings into her new ship. “You always forget about those things. You can’t sustain yourself on only the Force or whatever.”

Ahsoka looked at the Zabrak and sighed wearily. “Yeah, okay,” she assented. “Doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“I’d be offended… if you did,” Maul replied.

The former Jedi scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “Please,” she commented lightheartedly, “as if you know the meaning of shame.” She had grinned before she even realized it, only noticing she had when the Nightbrother returned the smirk. A bit flustered, she backed away from the med bay and turned her back on the table before he could see her lekku flashing their stripes more vividly. “I’ll be in my quarters,” she called over her shoulder as she walked down the short hallway, then instantly chastised herself for even letting him know. What the skrog is wrong with you, Ahsoka Tano? Seriously, she had done a better job at acting hostile towards the Zabrak back when she was a teenager, facing off against him on Mandalore. Why was it so hard for her to do so now, years later, after she knew firsthand of all the atrocities he was capable of?

As the door to her quarters slid shut behind her, she thought over this new development. The more she contemplated things, she concluded that it was partly due to the lack of Force-sensitives left in the galaxy. That must be it, right? When Ahsoka had fought Maul and his Death Watch on Mandalore, the Jedi Order was still in power, or at least there was the semblance of it. Sidious hadn’t yet set his final play in motion, and the Togruta had felt the reassurance of so many Jedi souls around her, vibrating with the Light Side of the Force. Even as Order 66 was carried out – including on the Star Destroyer she and Maul were in – the weight and impact of that event was still too raw and new for her to process. Not to mention, there was the adrenaline rush from having her friends suddenly turn on her – even Rex! – and attempt to kill her. It wasn’t until much later, after the mass burials for the fallen Clone Troopers, after she and Rex had faked their own deaths and gone into hiding, that Ahsoka finally felt the vast emptiness in the Force. So many lives extinguished within hours, some taking days to die… yet die they all did. Or most did, anyway. Over the years, she had encountered Force-sensitives here and there, but the occasions were few and far between. And yet whenever she met someone strong in the Force, her aura reverberated with a type of joyous recognition she could not contain. She had felt this way with Kanan, Ezra and Grogu, and even felt a dampened version of this emotion – more akin to relief, actually – when confronting the Inquisitorius, although they were her enemy. That connection was there too, albeit wrapped in pain and anguish, when she had faced off against Vader. And with Maul…

There was a definite significance regarding the Zabrak, though it was not entirely pleasant. Aside from the recognition her Living Force prickled with when encountering another Force-sensitive like herself, Maul was also a link to her past. So many things had changed since she last encountered him on Malachor: Obi-Wan, Yoda, and Anakin were all dead – the Emperor, too. An entire oppressive system of government had begun to crumble, and for a while, chaos ruled in areas of the Mid and Outer Rims. Things were so different now, that there were instances where Ahsoka could no longer reconcile that this was the same galaxy that had once known overall prosperity and peace. Although she was by no means old in terms of her species’ lifespan, she felt ancient most of the time. Old and weary. The only times this sensation was washed away was when she occasionally met with Rex, although seeing the Clone Commander wither away so quickly due to his accelerated aging was always heartbreaking for her. She knew that sooner rather than later, her friend – possibly her last friend from her youth – would be gone. Jedi teachings dictated that she must accept this fact and let her emotions be washed away when the time came, but she wasn’t too sure she would handle it all that well. For all she had advised little Grogu that he must be careful with attachments, Ahsoka knew she clung to her past more than she should.

Which is where Maul came in. Again, he was a presence from her teenage years, and although she had met him just as the world fell, he still represented some part of her past that was otherwise lost to her. For months after Order 66, she had been plagued by memories of the Emperor’s first apprentice, of his words of warning to her on Mandalore, of the fear and despair in those otherwise wicked Sith eyes. Although she never regretted her loyalty to Anakin Skywalker – even after learning what he had become – she had often wondered how things would have turned out had she accepted some type of truce with the Nightbrother. On Malachor, she had realized that she had made the right choice in refusing an alliance when she saw how easily he manipulated not just her and Kanan, but Ezra, whom she had grown fond of rather quickly since meeting, and therefore, protective over. Yet she had still been drawn to the Dathomirian. (That voice, damn it, that voice!) It had almost been fun, battling him in that Sith temple; she’d rather felt like a teenager again.

Running into him now, after the world had seemingly ended again, had brought it all home for her. There was still a mutual dislike, obviously, but it was a familiar distrust. She remembered their fight outside Obi-Wan’s home: how it had almost felt like a dance to her, a rhythmic clash that – had it not been for the bled kyber crystals’ malevolent interference – she had to admit to herself now that she would have enjoyed. Maul was comfortable, a relationship whose parameters she understood. It was there, down to the banter and her sarcastic attitude. She wasn’t truly afraid that Maul would kill her, although she knew he meant to. She was more concerned over how he would influence her due to her casualness around him. There was also one other thing.

In the previous times that Ahsoka had run into the Dark Side user – both directly in combat and indirectly as her spy network clashed at times with Maul’s Crimson Dawn – she had always sensed a deep rage brewing within the Nightbrother. He detested Obi-Wan, feared Vader, loathed his former master, the Emperor, and was disdainful towards her and other Light Side users, yet the connecting fibers in all these relationships was ire. It was his strongest driving force, his source of power in the Dark Side. Ahsoka had always sensed it emanating from him more than any other emotion. Yet now… other than the moment when he subjugated the kyber crystals in his broken saberstaff, that anger was strangely absent. Well, true, she did feel his temper flare up when she bit his arm, and he had offered up all types of glares in her direction during their interactions, but it was significantly muted. It made him… less despicable, she supposed, more approachable. Against her better judgement, she realized that part of her was glad he was still alive. It made her really dislike herself at the moment.

Ahsoka made her way numbly to her bed, as she had been going over these things while standing tiredly against the closed door. She sank down into the cot, her shoulders sagging. There was no point in mentally torturing herself about any of these things. They would reach Rodia in a few hours anyway, and once Maul was patched up, she could hand him over to the NRC authorities and be done with it. She’d keep the saberstaff, purge the crystals and go back to her life of traveling this ever-changing landscape that was the galaxy, finding a greater purpose than herself by helping those in need. Perhaps she would find her way to Sabine again, help in the search for Ezra and Thrawn.

Hmm… Maul offered to help find Ezra, too.

She dismissed the notion quickly as she lay back and looked up at the ceiling. Despite her many racing thoughts and unsettled emotions, she drifted off quickly into a dreamless sleep the instant she closed her eyes.

Chapter Text

It was the sound of the navigational computer, bleeping a warning that they were about to exit lightspeed in a few minutes, that awoke the Togruta. Startled, she sat straight up in her cot, blinking back the sleep-haze that still tugged lazily at her mind, inviting her to lie back down. Ahsoka got up hastily from the bed and made her way back to the cockpit on blundering legs. Had she really slept the entire hyperspace jump? It had been months since she’d had a full, hours-long uninterrupted sleep. Exhaustion had finally caught up to her, it seemed. Well, that, and she was sure the serum she had taken had had something to do with it. Her head felt infinitely better, and her entire body, in fact, seemed restored.

As she walked past the med bay, she cast a glance at the Zabrak. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was awake, for his brow was furrowed slightly, as though concentrating. He acknowledged her presence with a small nod in her direction as she moved past. Ahsoka wondered how badly he must need to sleep.

She decided not to let her thoughts dwell on the wounded Dathomirian and slid into the pilot’s chair, securing herself and taking the controls just as the T-6 chimed a final warning. The exit from hyperspace was smoother this time around, partly due to the adjustments in trajectory she had made earlier, and also because she was far more alert and prepared than before.

The dump site for the Tyrius system was far larger and denser than the one from Tatoo. The single sun was rather small and had a weaker gravitational pull than was typical. This meant the solar system itself was more diminutive than most, with only five planets orbiting the primary. However, three of these globes had a significant number of satellites around them, and save for Mikak, the first planet in the orbit, all sustained some form of civilization. This meant a total of 37 populations throughout the system ejected their trash onto the outermost edge of the heliocentric cluster, counting on Tyrius’s magnetic pull to keep the cloud of junk from floating away completely.

Also, due to the benefits Rodia had always enjoyed from being a part of the Republic – and later, the Empire – the government had not nurtured the humbler societal structure of worlds such as Tatooine. Being from the Outer Rim, Rodians had a difficult time fitting into the lavish society of the Core systems, and often wanted to make the impression on the rest of the galaxy that they were, indeed, as cultured and sophisticated as the populations of Coruscant and Chandrila. This became more markedly obvious after the death of Senator Onaconda Farr during the waning days of the Galactic Republic, as the Rodian Grand Protector purposefully replaced Farr with weak-willed sycophants in an attempt to appease the increasingly aggressive Supreme Chancellor, who, unbeknownst to almost everyone at the time, was in reality the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious.

During the time of the Empire, the originally tribal culture of Rodia became one of extreme free-market capitalism, focusing on the importance of buying and distracting their ever-oppressed people with flashy electronics, gaudy fashion and cheaply made trinkets that easily broke down. It became a society of disposable entertainment. “Dump the junk!” was a catchphrase Ahsoka often heard from Rodians pretty much in regard to anything. Don’t want to eat that? Are those clothes out of style? Need a change of décor? Meanwhile, the lower echelons of their society suffered in silence. It was no wonder so many underprivileged Rodians joined the Rebellion.

Even now, years after the Emperor’s death, the culture of Rodia was still struggling to find the right balance between living an advanced technological civilization and rediscovering their heritage. Sadly, the central government of the planet wasn’t doing much to help, mainly fearing any retribution for their own violations against their people during the time of the Galactic Empire. She knew Maul was right to distrust Rodian leadership. The current Grand Protector, Navik the Red of Chattza Clan, was little more than a glorified warlord who had more Rodian blood on his hands than even the Empire. The senator he appointed to represent his planet in the New Republic, Dor Wieedo, had compromised morals as well, having sold out his vote on at least one occasion to criminal syndicates. Ahsoka was aware of all this, and yet she felt she had little choice but to solicit their aid.

It took her more than three times as long to navigate the shuttle through this field of space debris as opposed to the one around Tatoo, and there were occasions where she had near misses with large clusters of the floating rubble. She emerged from the area pretty much unscathed, save for a few dings in the hull, with maybe some paint chipping off. Once she was completely cleared of the dump site, she sat back in the chair and bit her lower lip. This next part was likely going to be more stressful to her than what she’d just piloted through. She detested politics. She remembered how both Obi-Wan and Anakin had often told her that Jedi didn’t do well when mingling in governmental affairs. Still, there was nothing else she could do at the moment. Her personal funds were nearly spent, and regardless, she’d need the clout that came from the New Republic authorities. She was no Ranger, and therefore had no standing within the Coalition, but she knew people who did hold sway. She didn’t like calling in favors, but that was the only alternative she had.

After she entered the encryption code into her shuttle’s subspace transceiver, she waited anxiously for the signal to clear. A few moments of tense waiting were rewarded with the notification that the code had been accepted, and the communication channels would soon open. Once the connection was established, a fuzzy three-dimensional image emerged from the T-6’s holoprojector. An older woman with short, straight hair and an aura of dignified elegance looked warmly upon Ahsoka with large eyes.

“Ah, Fulcrum,” the woman said, nodding. “It’s been a while since I’ve received a message on this frequency. I hope all is well with you.”

“Madam Chancellor,” Ahsoka replied with a slight bow of her head. “Believe me that I would not have reached out to you in this manner if it could have been avoided.” She took a steadying breath before continuing, “I have an urgent request.”

“The Rebellion – and therefore the New Republic – owes you much, Agent Fulcrum. Even if that were not so, because of the high esteem and trust my good friends Bail Organa and Padmé Amidala held you in, I am of course at your service.”

Ahsoka sighed and offered up a weak smile. “Well,” she began, “hear out my request first. It’s… a complicated matter, and quite dangerous, too.” She cast a glance over her shoulder in the direction of the med bay. “I have apprehended a criminal, someone who is wanted for several crimes throughout various star systems. I believe he will be sought after by several groups once they learn he is still alive.”

“This individual… he has been presumed dead?”

“For years now, since before the fall of the Empire. I think it best if I surrender him directly to you on Chandrila.”

Mon Mothma nodded, her eyes thoughtful. “Do you require an escort to the Core?”

“No, Madam,” the Togruta replied. “I wish things were so simple. How… how secure is this transmission at the moment?”

“I am alone in my private chambers, Ahsoka,” the woman replied. “As you know, no one has access to this frequency save for those within the Fulcrum network, and – may I add – it has remained rather inactive for a long time now. Please, speak freely.”

“It’s Maul,” the former Jedi explained, leaning forward, her voice at a hushed whisper in spite of herself. Mon Mothma’s eyes widened, and the older woman brought a hand up to her mouth in a gesture of surprise. Ahsoka continued rapidly, “I wounded him, gravely, and have him secured aboard my ship. His situation is dire; if he doesn’t receive proper medical treatment, he will really be dead before a standard rotation is up.”

The Chancellor’s features relaxed, visible even through the static-ridden hologram. “Rest assured, no system in the galaxy would consider pressing prosecution charges on you regarding his death. Darth Maul is not only considered a fugitive of the law due to his many crimes as an underground mob boss, but for his ties to Palpatine. Make your way to Chandrila at once. You will be hailed as a hero for aiding us in finally ridding the galaxy of this filth.”

“No,” Ahsoka protested, shaking her head, “you don’t understand. I need him alive, Chancellor. I’m not trying to end his life; I’m trying to save it.”

At Mon Mothma’s quizzical look, the Togruta explained, “Maul’s reputation as a Sith Lord – the last of them now – is well known, even to those in the underground. When I encountered him, we fought over the possession of an immensely powerful artifact, imbued heavily with the Dark Side of the Force. I… failed to take it from him.”

“Well, when he dies –”

“I cannot control the item,” Ahsoka interrupted. “It took a toll on my body, physically, just to be able to handle it. Yet he subdued it with seemingly no difficulty at all, or any side-effects. In fact, he’s using it now to keep himself alive.”

The older woman nodded sagely. “So… you have reached an impasse.”

“Complete stalemate.” Ahsoka grumbled. “I’ve come to believe that if I attempt to destroy this item on my own, it will kill me, and I will likely die without even managing to nullify its power. It cannot be wielded by any Force-sensitive who adheres to the Light. Only a Dark Side user – a Sith – can destroy it. I’m nearly sure of it.”

“If this artifact is keeping the Zabrak alive, what makes you believe he will agree to eradicating it?”

“Of course he won’t agree to it,” the former Padawan said with a shrug. “Not willingly, anyway. But before I get to demand his cooperation, I need to make sure he lives long enough for me to coerce him into it.”

Mon Mothma was quiet for a while. Ahsoka held her breath as the woman thought the situation over. She didn’t want to rush the Chancellor, but she was anxious. The human’s approval was imperative, both due to her sway over the ruling government of Rodia, as well as the financial backing Ahsoka was about to ask for Maul’s emergency treatment.

“This is a risky venture, Ahsoka Tano,” Mon Mothma said at last. Uh-oh, the Togruta thought, pouting slightly, full-name use. Not the best sign. “If the New Republic manages to save Darth Maul from death, only to have him break free and remain at large in the galaxy…”

“I won’t allow it,” Ahsoka assured the woman quickly, her voice fierce and determined.

“You cannot guarantee that,” the older woman replied measuredly.

“Madam Chancellor,” the former Jedi said firmly, “I have fought Maul on several occasions before, and bested him in combat each time. Including now.” This, of course, was an exaggeration. Sure, she had defeated and captured him on Mandalore, but after seeing what he was able to do to an entire Star Destroyer, she had wondered if the Dathomirian had really been trying all that hard throughout their fight. During their scuffle on Malachor, she had backed out of the fight in order to go after Ezra and let Kanan handle the rest. And well, he actually won their match on Tatooine, at least the one outside Obi-Wan’s home. Her shooting him in the chest and rendering him incapacitated didn’t really count as a victory. It was more of a fluke. However, Mon Mothma didn’t need to know any of that. “Please,” she added, “the item he wields is too powerful. I need to take the gamble on this, and I can’t do it alone.”

Mon Mothma sighed, resigned. “What system are you in?”

“I just arrived in the Tyrius system,” the Togruta said, daring to hope. “The nearest planet I could locate on the IGA with the facilities necessary for his surgery was –”

“How badly is he wounded?”

“There’s a hole in his chest that I could squeeze both my fists in if I tried.”

The Chancellor winced. “And yet he lives‽” She paused. “I don’t know which of the two of you I should be more impressed with.” After another tired sigh, Mon Mothma continued, “You are in Tyrius. Which means you mean to get to Rodia, I assume?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka replied. “As I was saying, it is the only planet that has the medical technology available.”

“Hm, that may be so, but the Grand Protector won’t be too sympathetic to your plight.”

“Well, I figured, if you could make a call…”

“Of course. I can see now why you wanted me to wait until I heard your entire plea before agreeing to anything.”

“Madam Chancellor, I –”

“Ahsoka, it is fine,” Mon Mothma chided gently. “You have never asked for anything of the Alliance during all your years of service. I will contact Senator Dor Wieedo at once and see to it that the Rodians await you with a full security detail when you arrive on Iskaayuma. Do not worry about any financial requirements. However, I would advise you to maintain a discreet profile while you’re there. Our relationship with the Rodian government remains… courteous at best. They only tolerate intergalactic law and humor us with representation in the Senate because of our superior technology, which they need. Be very careful.”

“I will, Madam.” Ahsoka bowed her head deeply once more. “And thank you.”

“I await good news from you when the procedure is complete,” the Chancellor said. “Once the Zabrak Darth Maul is out of danger, keep him apprehended yourself, regardless of what the Rodians insist upon. Then, bring him to Chandrila immediately. Good luck, Agent Fulcrum. May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, Madam,” Ahsoka murmured as the hologram dissipated and the connection was terminated. Well, that had gone as well as she could have hoped for.

As the Togruta punched in the coordinates to the jungle planet into her navicomputer, she sensed a darkness brewing more strongly from the direction of the med bay. The Dark Side of the Force was swelling around Maul, and she had a good guess as to why. Once the shuttle jumped back into hyperspace, she approached the metal table cautiously.

The Dathomirian was laying exactly as he had been before, but his eyes were open now. He wasn’t chanting or muttering anything to enhance the darkness around him: he didn’t need to. The death glare he shot at her as she approached was sharp enough to cut durasteel, if such a thing were possible. Inwardly, Ahsoka cringed, but she looked down at him casually, nonetheless.

“You mad, old man?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Maul snarled, his chest heaving. For all his anger, he was still having difficulty breathing. “I will not… help you… destroy the kaiburr,” he seethed. He’d obviously overheard her conversation with the Chancellor.

“Well, what did you think I wanted to do with them? Keep them? Turn them into jewelry so I can make a fashion statement?”

“I spent years… finding the right crystals… to replace the ones I lost,” the Zabrak growled at her. “To remake the weapon… you stole from me…!”

Ahsoka frowned. She remembered, of course. He was referring to the saberstaff he’d used to duel her on Mandalore. It was odd, now that she thought on it. Not only had she disarmed him then, but she had been able to use the Zabrak’s own weapon against him. It had been unwieldy for her to use back then, sure, but she had not sensed the same poisonous aura emitting from that saberstaff as she now did with this one. Obi-Wan had mentioned the artifact she was to find dated to before the Clone Wars. Ahsoka wondered where, exactly, the Nightbrother obtained those kyber crystals. When she’d seen his new weapon on Malachor, she had assumed they came from those of Inquisitorius weapons, as the hilt had obviously been crafted using parts from those spinning sabers.

“The cards are all on the table now,” she replied dispassionately. “We both knew what we were agreeing to, when we made this deal back on Tatooine.”

“You made the deal,” the Zabrak muttered. “I had… no say in this.”

“I proposed this, of course,” Ahsoka stated. “But don’t pretend you weren’t eager to play along. I could claim the same as you, that you were the one who left me no alternative. We find ourselves in the same situation however you want to look at it.” Gazing down upon him, Ahsoka couldn’t help but grin a little. There was a familiarity even in his anger. It was almost comforting. “Relax, Maul. We’re simply getting to the interesting part of our game.”

“I can’t wait… to kill you.”

“Well, you’ll get your chance soon enough, if the Rodians are successful in saving your ass.”

Speaking of the Rodians, Ahsoka remembered Mon Mothma’s words of caution. Maul had been wary of travelling there, too. Her brow furrowed slightly. “The Rodian government will try to keep you there, maybe sell you off. I’m sure there’s more than one bounty on your head.”

“Those lizards… do not worry me.”

“They should,” Ahsoka countered, crossing her arms. “You mentioned how their government has dealings with several syndicates. Last I heard, they were getting quite cozy with the Red Key Raiders… and the Black Sun. If things between you and that cartel ended as badly as you say they did, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ll be amongst the highest bidders for you during the auction the Rodians will likely prepare.”

“I can… handle them. Done it… before.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. It seemed his fury was burning itself out already, not nearly strong enough to sustain him for long.

“Hm…” the former Jedi pouted thoughtfully. “That’s only if the Rodians don’t try to sabotage your treatment.”

“Making sure that… doesn’t happen… is your job.” Maul muttered.

Ahsoka smirked. “Well, maybe I’ll let them sabotage it a little.”

This earned her another glare from the Dathomirian, which almost got her giggling. It was comical to see his anger knowing he was completely harmless at the moment, like an Akul cub that snarled and snapped despite it having no teeth. However, the Togruta decided not to antagonize him any further. She reminded herself that not too long ago, back on Tatooine, he hadn’t been so harmless, and she had considered him to be very much a threat. With a small cough, she stifled any chuckling that threatened to overtake her in order to add: “We should arrive at Rodia within the next two hours. I need to go prepare a few things before we get there. Keep… doing whatever it is you’ve been doing, I guess. The wait will be over soon.”

Without pausing for a response, she spun on her heel and headed back down the hallway to her quarters. Once there, she knelt beside her cot and pulled a durasteel coffer out from beneath it. This case was larger than the one Obi-Wan had used to store Maul’s cleaved saberstaff: both wider and taller. She pressed the pad of her thumb against the locking mechanism and waited for the familiar sting of the tiny hypodermic needle that took a sample of her blood. Once the DNA recognition was complete, the lock clicked, and the hinges popped open on their own. Master Kenobi wasn’t the only person who kept hidden secrets.

Inside was seemingly nothing but neatly folded fabric in dark hues of blue, gray, and brown. Ahsoka took each piece out carefully and placed them – still folded – upon her bed. Beneath them all was a smooth gunmetal-colored featureless mask: its only distinguishing characteristics being two perfectly small, square photoreceptor screens, set square-on-point where the eyes would be. Two thin, tapering groves ran down the middle of the mask, between the two diamond shapes: starting at the forehead and ending at the chin. Where the parallel lines ran past the eye holes, both lines flared outward at opposite angles, like arrows pointing away from the center, before continuing their downward trajectory. The design was reminiscent of the markings on the Togruta’s brow. In fact, it was based on them. Ahsoka stared down at the metal mask quietly as she ran fingers down the cool surface, tracing the pattern. Like the name she had just been called by the Chancellor, this symbol, the mask, and everything in that coffer were something she had not seen in many years. “Fulcrum…” she murmured softly, her thoughts heavy with memories. How many others had carried the name? How many had perished because of it…? Not all of the spies within the Fulcrum network had been close friends of hers, but she had made a point to at least meet each one in person. She had learned their names, their stories, their reasons for fighting, and memorized their faces and voices.

With the Battle of Jakku essentially sealing the fate of the Empire and giving rise to the New Republic, it was determined that the Fulcrum spies were no longer required. Ahsoka couldn’t remember who had given the order to disband the network, or if it had rather occurred organically. In either case, most of those who remained alive had transitioned into other roles within the new government, with others – like her – officially retiring from duty. The encrypted channels of communication used by all Fulcrum was still operational, thankfully, and the fact that the new Chancellor had maintained the frequency active among her personal contacts led the Togruta to believe perhaps there was yet use for them after all.

Taking the mask in her hand, the former Jedi stood, closing the lid of the now empty case with her foot, and then pushing it back gently under her cot with the tip of her boot. The uniform before her was something she had rarely used. Among the Fulcrum ranks, it had actually become somewhat of a joke: how were they supposed to be covert spies if they all wore the same clothes? The idea for the entire thing had come from one of their latter recruits: an ex-ISB officer named Alexsandr Kallus. Ahsoka had thought the entire thing a bit silly as well, but she had humored the man, recognizing his desire for order among the chaos around them was merely his way of coping with the uncertainty of his new life. He had been groomed into a life of law enforcement since before the Empire, after all, having originally been an officer within the Coruscant Security Force like his father and both grandfathers before him. He then attended the Royal Imperial Academy once the Republic fell. All he knew before defecting to the Rebellion were ranks and uniforms and following orders to a tee. By designing the impervium masks, Kallus had felt useful, and he claimed it gave the Fulcrum a semblance of legality. Due to the nature of their missions, hardly any agents within the network used their masks or even got one, but Ahsoka had accepted hers out of sympathy. Kallus reminded her of the Clone Troopers in many ways, and as a child soldier of sorts herself, she had bonded with the older man instantly. She was glad he had survived the war.

Looking down at the metal face-cover now, the Togruta smiled to herself, glad she had kept this token after so many years. The trip to Rodia would be one of the only times an official-looking Fulcrum uniform could come in handy.

Ahsoka took her time changing into the clothes. The fabric smelled old and musty: the stale scent of disuse. The item that took the longest to put on was actually the mask; or rather, the cloth sleeves that were worn under it, meant to conceal her lekku. In the end, she managed to put on the entire getup. Securing the mask around her head with the final straps, she tapped the side of it, near her temple, and the electronics inside whirred to life. To Ahsoka, it appeared as if the lights inside a darkened room had suddenly been turned on, with the photoreceptive lenses instantly adjusting to her vision and giving the room around her a sharper focus. She inhaled deeply, testing the filtration apparatus. That first breath of air had a faint metallic scent to it, but as she began to breathe normally, the smell faded. The interior of the mask flashed a flurry of colors as it measured the ideal levels of nitrogen, oxygen, and other gases necessary for her species and adjusted the ratios accordingly. She walked over to the dresser beside her cot and peered into the tiny mirror that hung above it, inspecting her appearance. The reflection staring back at her was emotionless, the screens that made up the eyes of the mask glowing with a faint blue light: sign that the cybernetics within were working properly.

The Togruta synced up the mask with the computer inside her armored gauntlet, with the visor automatically updating its date and time. Ahsoka could see the current readout flash across her vision as it played over the interior of the photoreceptor screens. Kallus had done some impressive work on the masks, she had to admit. It was a shame they hadn’t caught on more with the other spies.

The time shown on her readout let her know she still had a bit over an hour before the hyperspace route landed them in Rodia. Plenty of time to finally get that chem-rinse ready for her vibroblade. She even decided to throw in the gaffi stick Maul had been carrying around. The former Padawan took her lightsabers from where she’d left them atop the dresser when she’d showered and clipped them to her belt, where they belonged. She exited her quarters and returned to the cockpit of the ship, picking up her sack where she’d left it by the entrance. The T-6 was small compared to other shuttles, so all essential stations were right next to one another. The maintenance pit was a small recess tucked in beside the med bay. As she walked past the Zabrak on the metal table, he craned his neck to look at her curiously.

“I did not realize…” he called out a bit weakly, “that the occasion… called for… formal wear.”

Behind her mask, Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Just because I think the Rodians are our best resource at the moment, doesn’t mean I trust them any more than you do,” she explained, taking the weapons out of her pack, and placing them inside the cleansing tank. She was a bit taken aback when the voice she heard was not her own, and was rather a mechanical, androgynous monotone. Right. Kallus had been clever enough to incorporate a voice distorter into the mask as well. Shutting the tank, she punched the proper settings for the chem-rinse and started up the machine.

She walked over to the med-bay and leaned against the edge of the table. “I’m going to do some maintenance on my lightsabers while I wait for us to reach Rodia,” she said to the Dathomirian. “Want me to take a look at yours?”

Maul frowned up at her. “How… stupid do you… think I am?” he growled, his grip tightening around the two halves of hilt.

“What, do you need to be touching them?” Ahsoka asked pointedly. “I really don’t mean to destroy them yet, and I’m not trying to disarm you. I don’t need to. Those kyber crystals will end up with me eventually.”

“That is… yet to be seen,” Maul replied with obvious scorn.

The Togruta shrugged and straightened up, stepping back away. “Suit yourself, old man,” she called out airily, but the modulator made her tone lose all semblance of amicability. Which was probably for the best, she told herself. Going back to her satchel, she fished out her cleaning kit and walked with it back to the cockpit. She settled into the captain’s chair and took one of her sabers in her hand. Bending her frame over it, she set to work.

The time went by rapidly, as it often did when Ahsoka was busy with mechanic work. The amount of sand she shook out of her lightsaber hilts was unbelievable. Not only had the dust of Tatooine managed to get into the tiny hairline crevices in her hilts, but when she opened the casing, she even found sand within. It was a good thing she had decided to clean out and recalibrate her weapons. She wasn’t sure how sand would affect the effectiveness of her blades, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Not with the Rodians. She hoped against hope that she wouldn’t need to resort to using her lightsabers.

She had scarcely put her second saber hilt back together again when the shuttle began to bleep its warning that they were about to exit hyperspace again. “Here we go,” she muttered, securing her weapons back into place at her hips and buckling in before taking the controls of the ship.

An emerald orb with swirling grey clouds and patches of dull land greeted her viewing screen as soon as the T-6 came out of lightspeed. Two smallish moons floated around the planet, with two more hovering further out in space, just out of the spacecraft's range. No sooner had Ahsoka begun to fly her craft closer to the swamp world than her ship began to receive an incoming frequency on her transceiver from one of the planet’s channels. Bracing herself mentally, the Togruta opened the communication line.

“This is the Rodian Home Fleet,” a voice barked sharply with an evident lisp. “Unknown ship: identify yourself.”

“I am Agent Fulcrum with the New Republic Coalition,” Ahsoka replied. “I have been dispatched to seek your government’s aid by Chancellor Mon Mothma. Dor Wieedo is expecting my arrival. Give me the frequency, and I can send over my credentials now.”

“Stand by.” There was a long pause on the line but after a while, she was sent the channel’s code. Ahsoka knew it was unlikely to be the one directly for the Rodian senator. It was more probable that the central government was already aware of her impending arrival but was kept relatively in the dark as to her purpose there and was now trying to pry that information from her. Fortunately, Ahsoka was prepared for this. The encrypted flow of information she beamed over gave away little about her identity, showing only the serial number for the shuttle, which could be cross-referenced to prove that it had originally been a Galactic Republic model later registered to the Rebellion and now with the New Republic. It also included her operating license and rank within the Rebel Alliance, with a link included that would direct an inquiry straight to Mon Mothma herself – through her emergency government frequency, of course, not the Fulcrum network.

She had to wait even longer this time, and she could picture the Rodians carefully going over the information she sent, combing through for any hint of what her business there was. The Rodian government was composed of aggressive, warrior people, mostly males. Outsiders were usually not welcome on their planet, with them only begrudgingly allowing diplomatic visits from government officials, or other business meetings with trading partners from abroad. Either way, all interstellar travel to and from Rodia was strictly monitored. This had only grown worse during the time of the Empire.

Finally, the Togruta was given permission to begin her descent on the planet. Although she was at first instructed to land in Equator City, where she was assured Senator Dor Wieedo was awaiting her, she insisted on instead heading to Iskaayuma as she had been told to do by the Chancellor. The Rodians assented in the end but didn’t sound too happy about it. The new capital of Rodia was the most guarded place in the entirety of the planet, and martial law was enacted there.

Once she came in for a landing at the Iskaayuma Starport, her ship was surrounded immediately by members of the Grand Protector’s Home Fleet. Although they didn’t point their weapons at her vessel, Ahsoka could see from the viewing window that all were armed with E-11 blaster rifles, probably obtained during the government’s time in the Galactic Empire.

“Have all crew members disembark immediately,” the harsh voice from before commanded over her transceiver. “All weapons must be handed over at once.”

“I am unable to comply with your request,” Ahsoka replied. “The passenger I am traveling with is severely wounded and incapacitated. He must be brought down in a capsule and requires immediate medical attention.”

A short pause before the Rodian ordered, “All able crew members disembark. Now. We will handle the wounded once we take control of the ship.”

Beneath her mask, Ahsoka frowned. She knew the Rodians would likely search the entire T-6, and confiscate whatever intel they could. All her databanks were encrypted for just such encounters, however, so the Togruta was not at all worried. However… “Stand by,” she replied curtly, rising from her seat quickly and walking over to the med bay. On her way, she slipped her lightsabers underneath her leather breastplate. There was no way she was allowing the Rodians to see them.

“You heard the communication,” she told Maul as she stepped up beside the Zabrak.

“Yes.”

“The Rodians will be here for you as soon as I leave. Give me your weapon.”

The Dathomirian growled up at her. “No.”

“Don’t be stubborn, damnit, we don’t have time for this! I cannot risk the Rodians discovering we are Force users. You can continue using the crystals as a conduit if I’m close by, can’t you?” She placed a gloved hand on the Zabrak’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Maul, please.”

The Nightbrother glared at her for a moment more before she felt his arm move against one of the straps, touching her thigh. Glancing down, she saw he was nudging her with one half of his split saberstaff. Hesitantly, she placed her hand around the broken hilt and was both relieved and a bit surprised to see him let go. However, he quickly moved his hand to grip her wrist hard before she could pull away. “Know that if you double-cross me, Lady Tano, I will make sure the kaiburr utterly destroy you, even if it costs me my own life.” His tone was low and dangerous – determined. That resolve kept his voice steady, and for once he didn’t need to catch his breath to speak. As though to prove his point, he tightened his hold, and Ahsoka felt the bled crystal within the handle begin to radiate a steady hatred that burned through her glove.

“Save your hollow threats for the RHF. Now, hand over the other one.” She reached across his torso with her free hand and took hold of the other half of the saberstaff. With a dark look, Maul released his grasp of both the weapon and her wrist. Stepping back from the table, the former Jedi tucked the halves into the folds of the fabric sleeve covering her rear lek, which was wider than the ones up front. It added an extra weight onto her head, but at least by keeping them underneath her head tail, she managed to hide them from view.

“Don’t give the Rodians too much trouble,” she advised, rolling her shoulders and neck to allow the weapon halves to settle in the sleeve. “In fact, I would advise against speaking to them at all. Let’s hope no one here recognizes who you are.” She turned away from the med bay and strode towards the boarding ramp, pushing a button on her gauntlet that lowered it as she approached. “I’ll see you soon,” she called over her shoulder.

The Rodians outside eyed her sullenly, obviously suspicious. A large, muscular male with dull green scales approached her from among the group. He was in full armor, likely a bounty hunter, Ahsoka assumed. She noticed he held his rifle before him with his finger resting lightly on the trigger. The safety was off.

“Anyone else on board besides the injured?” he asked in Basic. His accent was thick, and she recognized his voice as the person she had been communicating with.

“No,” she replied curtly. “He is bound to the examination table in the med bay, just behind the cockpit. He requires emergency surgery. The New Republic has agreed to cover any and all expenses related to his care. You’d better hurry and get him: they want him alive.”

The looming Rodian shouted a command over his shoulder in his native tongue and two others came forward quickly. A jerk of his head towards the T-6 sent the two running up the ramp, blasters aimed to the front. Seconds later, one of them descended back down the ramp and reported something in Rodese to the large leader.

“Satisfied?” Ahsoka asked, arms crossed.

The Rodians ignored her and the leader gave out more instructions to those around, presumably telling them to bring forth a medical capsule as she had requested. Once several of the encircling Rodians had left to do as he asked, the large male finally turned back to the masked Togruta. He held out a hand expectantly, but not in a friendly gesture of greeting. “Your weapon,” he demanded, glancing down at the blaster pistol holstered in her belt. Ahsoka grinned underneath her mask. Good, her ploy to divert his attention had thus far worked. Calmly, she took the firearm from her side and handed it over. “I expect that back in the same condition,” she said. “Now, I also need to speak with your senate representative immediately.”

“Senator Wieedo is in Equator City engaging in important tribal negotiations,” the Rodian replied. Ahsoka didn’t believe him for a second. Equator City, the former capital of Rodia before Navik took over, was known for its sprawling gambling complex. Casinos and bars were based in the domed megalopolis, as well as entertainment venues such as concert halls and opera houses, even massive holoprojector theaters. It was where most tourists flocked to when they were allowed to enter the planet at all. Ahsoka didn’t need her Force-intuition to know that the Honorable Gentleman from Rodia was likely betting away whatever credits he had on him, drink in one hand, a beautiful Rodian girl clinging to his other arm. The large reptilian sentient standing before her continued, “Any dealings you have with our government must be done through me.” With a curt nod, he added, “Phex Crupp. Master of the Goa-Ato.” He did not hold out his hand this time.

“Not to be discourteous towards your culture and leader, but I did not travel here to deal with bounty hunters,” Ahsoka replied coldly. “Certainly not with the Grand Protector’s pet.”

Crupp made a series of rapid hooting noises, evidence of his irritation at her words. “You are here at the pleasure of the Inta’si’rin’na,” he snarled, stepping up closer to her menacingly. “You would do well not to forget.”

“Your Grand Protector retains his power at the pleasure of the Chancellor,” Ahsoka retorted promptly, not backing down. “He would do well to train you on such matters properly.”

The large Rodian tightened his grip on his rifle and he lifted his other hand grabbing her pistol as though to strike her across the face. Ahsoka was not afraid, even if she didn’t have the extra protection of the mask. She knew she could stop the Rodian sooner than he got a chance to act. Before the situation could escalate, the Rodians who Crupp had dispatched returned with a medical capsule hovering between them. One of them walked up to the pair and stood aside nervously, apparently unsure of whether or not to interrupt. His subordinate’s presence was enough to allow Crupp to regain his composure. Turning away from Ahsoka abruptly, the Guild Master gave the Rodian a quick order, and the entire group trotted up the boarding ramp with the capsule. Ahsoka hoped they wouldn’t be too rough on Maul. Unpleasant as the Zabrak was, she preferred him over the blood-thirsty, brutish members of the RHF.

It was a few moments before the reptilian sentients descended from her ship again, the sealed medical capsule in tow. She could see the Dathomirian inside through the thick glass, his skin ashen, lips pulled back in a pained snarl. He had both hands clamped over his chest, and blood oozed slowly from between his fingers. Not a good sign.

Ahsoka went briskly up to the hovering pod, rapped the top of the transparisteel with a gloved knuckle as she walked along beside it. Maul’s gaze darted quickly over to her, and his features relaxed just a tiny bit. At least his reflexes were still sharp. She knew he couldn’t see her expression due to the Fulcrum mask, but Ahsoka smiled down at him anyway. To her surprise, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards as the Nightbrother tried to grin back at her. One of the Rodians escorting the capsule guided it away from the shuttle and docking area and towards wide sliding doors. Beyond this was a short hallway that appeared to connect the starport to garages where smaller repulsorcraft were kept, such as tanks and speeders. It was towards one of these medium-sized hover-transports that the Rodians were taking the medical capsule. The vehicle was emblazoned with the universal medical symbol and was already waiting with engines on. As Ahsoka made to follow, Crupp came up behind her and grabbed her by the forearm, yanking her back roughly.

“I believe you were told that our regime will handle your wounded,” he said in a low, menacing tone, “and that you will need to deal directly with me from this point forwards.”

Ahsoka wrenched her arm away just as forcefully and squared her shoulders. “And I told you that I will only discuss matters with Dor Wieedo directly. If your government doesn’t want trouble with the New Republic, you’ll get your senator’s sorry ass out of whatever casino he’s got his muzzle in at the moment. Furthermore, my ward doesn’t leave my sight for an instant; I am going wherever he goes, as per the Chancellor’s orders. If Navik doesn’t like that, he can come to me himself next time, rather than send his Kowakian monkey-lizard to meet me.”

Rodians didn’t have very expressive faces, with their tapered snouts and scaly skin. Even so, Ahsoka could clearly see the sparks of ire light up Crupp’s pupil-less eyes. Before the large Rodian could respond, however, the former Padawan raised a hand and waved it slowly in front of his face, across his line-of-sight. “You will go fetch Dor Wieedo from Equator City and bring him directly to me,” she stated calmly, exerting her will over his through the Force.

Fortunately for her, becoming Master of the Goa-Ato apparently didn’t require much intelligence. Phex Crupp blinked once, his anger suddenly gone, his features slack. “I will go fetch Dor Wieedo from Equator City and bring him directly to you,” he repeated passively.

With a slight nod, Ahsoka spun on her heel and sprinted to catch up with the retreating group of Rodians. She reached them as they were loading the medical capsule onto the repulsorcraft ambulance. All four turned to look at her in surprise. She was sure Crupp hadn’t planned on her tagging along, but these weaker grunts didn’t know how to object to her presence. Without a word, the Togruta climbed into the back of the vehicle and sat beside the capsule. After a moment’s hesitation, one of the Rodians climbed in after her while two others jumped into the seats in the front and took the controls. The last one remained behind, heading back towards his post.

Placing her palm on the side of the transparisteel cover, Ahsoka peered inside. Maul was staring straight up at the ceiling. His eyes were smarting, and he was back to mumbling, although Ahsoka couldn’t hear him through the thick glass. To her dismay, she noticed his chest heaving erratically, and blood was beginning to seep from his nostrils and the corner of his mouth. Looking at his reclining form, she instantly guessed the problem. She slid her hand down quickly to the controls on the side of the pod and lowered the cover. Across from her, the Rodian gasped and leaned forward.

“No, no!” he exclaimed anxiously. “The capsule is providing filtered air to him! He is mortally wounded! He can die! Please, you need to close the capsule so he can breathe!”

“He can’t breathe like this!” Ahsoka hissed, reaching into the pod, and hoisting the Zabrak up by the shoulders. The voice modulator kept her tone steady, but underneath the mask her voice trembled. “Quick: how do you adjust this thing so I can raise his head?”

The Rodian looked at her blankly before stammering: “It… it can’t. It’s, it’s an older model.”

“He has ruptures in his diaphragm!” Ahsoka continued angrily, sitting on the lip of the capsule, and wrapping an arm around the back of the Nightbrother’s upper back, propping him up against her side. “He cannot be kept in a prone position. When the New Republic requested your government’s medical assistance, that means you provide the most advanced technology your planet has, understand‽” Maul coughed once as the blood that had been pooling in his lungs came dribbling out of his mouth. His head rolled weakly, and he leaned into her. “My savior,” he whispered with a sigh, closing his eyes. Despite the frailty in his voice, Ahsoka heard the sarcasm loud and clear.

Just then, the former Jedi felt a piercing, burning sensation start up in the back of her head. In truth, it was coming from her rear lek. She realized that Maul’s weapon – which she had hid in her lekku sleeves – was activating. The Zabrak was taking the dark power of the bled kyber crystals inside in order to stem the flow of blood from his wound, in order to hang on to his fleeting life for just a bit longer. Perhaps he did need to be touching them in order for him to harness their full potential – or at least have a direct conduit to them. By holding both him and his weapon, Ahsoka realized she had become that conduit.

The pain was quickly becoming unbearable, but she noticed Maul’s breathing beginning to steady once more. She steeled herself against the searing sensation and gripped at his shoulder firmly, the only thing keeping her nails from cutting through his skin being the thick leather of her gloves.

The Rodian was staring at her, wide-eyed. Well, to be fair, Rodians were almost always wide-eyed. It was their default expression. But Ahsoka could tell this one – a young male with a slender, wiry build – was clearly intimidated by her. Perhaps he had been able to sense her anger, despite the mask’s monotonous voice. Her choice of words and actions were rather aggressive, she supposed, and very unlike her. She remembered what the Zabrak had suggested to her back on Tatooine: that the kyber crystals could influence her personality. Strange. Obi-Wan had theorized much the same. Where the skrog did Maul get those crystals, anyway?

“Y-you…” the Rodian began meekly, “you two must be close. You seem rather concerned for him.”

Ahsoka blinked, the pain that had spread up to her head momentarily forgotten. “What?”

Beside her, Maul coughed weakly: it was all he could manage as a chuckle. “Are you… joking?” he rasped. “She’s the one… who… did this… to me.”

“You should not try to speak!” the Rodian squeaked out, seemingly more amazed that the Dathomirian was able to do so than over what he’d said. “Please, sir, focus on maintaining a steady breathing rate. We’ll arrive at Emergency Services soon.”

“Yes, old man, shut up,” Ahsoka growled, her irritated tone lost through the mask’s distorter. She turned her attention back to the young Rodian. “You’re rather small for a bounty hunter, aren’t you? Or are you a pilot with the Fleet?”

“Neither,” the reptilian sentient replied, shrinking into himself a little. “I… I’m a medic. Sort of. It-it’s a family thing, I guess.” He perked up a bit then, his large blue eyes lighting up as he leaned forward. “My brother was a member of the Rebel Alliance!” he whispered excitedly. “He served during the Battle of Endor.” Upon saying the words, he suddenly became glum once more. “He, um… didn’t make it.”

“I am so sorry,” Ahsoka said solemnly. The amount of people she had met who had been directly impacted by the Galactic Civil War was innumerable.

“Abe – that was his name: Able Nereno. I’m Cebb, by the way,” he added as an afterthought. “Cebb… Nereno, well obviously.” He reached a long-fingered hand over the medical pod and Ahsoka took it in the one she wasn’t using to prop up the Dathomirian. The Rodian’s grip was firm as they shook hands, belying a hidden strength his timid manners hid so well. “My brother, he… he joined the Goa-Ato in order to get offworld,” Cebb explained. “He was a good bounty hunter, but his true calling was medicine. Almost as good as a droid!” There was definite pride in his voice as he said this. “Our government didn’t want to get involved in the Civil War. Too many advantages for the Grand Protector under the Empire’s rule. He even allowed the Imps to hire our men as bounty hunters when whatever they needed enforced was too dangerous for their stormtroopers or Inquisitors. Navik sent those men to their deaths knowingly!” Cebb strung together a series of Rodian curses under his breath, the spikes along his head bristling furiously. “That is not a hunt, that is a slaughter! There is no honor in that!” The young Rodian’s chest heaved, his breath nearly as ragged as Maul’s. However, he quickly recoiled into himself again, his eyes darting nervously towards the front cabin of the ambulance. “We’re, um, not allowed to talk about such things.”

Ahsoka nodded in understanding.

“Your anger…” Maul said suddenly, eyes still closed. “Do not... hide it. Sharpen it… use it. It will… take you places, kid.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Ahsoka interjected quickly. “Look at the place it got him.” To which the Zabrak grinned weakly and Nereno hooted a quiet laugh. Even Ahsoka had to smile beneath her mask, at which point she realized the pain caused by the kyber crystals had gone away. Maul had recovered enough to where he didn’t need them directly, it seemed. Now there was only an overly warm discomfort nagging at her lek, as though she were sitting with her back too close to a fire. She frowned, glancing down at the wounded Dathomirian leaning against her side. Yes, much too close to a fire, alright.

“Anyway, I’m nowhere near as good as Abe in either medical knowledge or bounty hunting, but I’m not completely inept,” Cebb was saying. “Guess that’s why the Goa-Ato keeps me around, but I’m not truly a member. More of a mascot.”

Just then, the repulsorcraft came to a smooth stop. Cebb looked out of the viewing window at the back and nodded. “We’ve arrived at Emergency Services,” he said. “This is the best medcenter on Rodia,” he clarified quickly to the Togruta. “Even Navik gets treatment here when injured. Your, um... internee? He’ll be well taken care of. If he has survived this far, he must be strong. I’ve never seen a wound like that on someone that wasn’t a corpse.”

The slender Rodian quickly opened the back doors of the ambulance and climbed out, motioning for Ahsoka to do the same. With effort, she began to settle Maul back down onto the gurney. “I have nothing to keep you propped up with,” she told him. “Can you manage?” The Zabrak nodded with a wince, and Ahsoka followed after Cebb. With his long suction-tipped fingers, the reptilian sentient gently pulled the capsule forward, pressing the controls on the side once the pod was floating beside him. The transparisteel cover slid closed over the Nightbrother immediately.

They were outside a large establishment, military in appearance. Looking around, Ahsoka noticed it was the only pristine location in the area: all other buildings looked dingy and worn, slightly off-color and grimy. That might have been due to the hazy smog wafting around the top of the city’s bio-dome, fighting to squeeze itself out through the exhaust vents. Iskaayuma was an industrial metropolis: filled with factories and manufacturing complexes. If the smog hadn’t yet affected the medical building, that meant it was a fairly new installation. A set of shiny GH-8 medical droids zoomed over to them instantly, and they hovered around the medical capsule, connecting themselves to the controls and downloading the data within. A few seconds later, they beeped and trilled in alarm, taking hold of the pod, and speeding it away inside the building. Ahsoka began to follow, but like Crupp had before, now it was Cebb who rushed to intercept her, sprinting beside her, and lightly touching her shoulder.

“Please, wait a moment!” he cried, trying to get ahead of her. “The droids know what they’re doing! They’re likely taking him to the Pre-Op.”

“I’m sure they are, which is why I need to stop them!”

“I… I don’t understand!” Cebb panted as he ran beside her. The droids were fast, much faster than she could keep up with at a full run. Not without use of the Force, which she definitely didn’t want to rely on in a place crawling with bounty hunters. “I thought you wanted him to receive immediate treatment!”

“I do!” At least the med droids were going straight down the long corridor and not turning down any of the other passages to the sides. There also weren’t many people moving along the hallway. It seemed this passage was only used for emergency admittance. The distance between her and Maul was growing, although she could still see the capsule up ahead. “But in order to prepare him for surgery, they will give him a sedative, correct?”

“Yes.”

“If they do that, he’ll die!”

Cebb Nereno brought his gauntlet up to his face, and Ahsoka noticed for the first time that it was equipped with a bracer computer, which could double as a commlink. The Rodian typed something into the datapad’s screen and then said something in Rodese, after which he received an audible reply of bleeps and trills: the binary language of most droids.

“You can slow down,” he called over to her as they ran. “I instructed the Geeayches to stand by on any procedures until we arrive.”

“I still need to get there immediately,” Ahsoka replied, keeping up her pace. “I need to be with him.”

Cebb grunted and whistled. “He really must mean a lot to you.”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, Cebb,” the Togruta replied. “But yes, he’s important to me. To the New Republic as well.” She added that last bit to make her business sound more official, although she wasn’t really sure how much value the NRC would give to the Zabrak’s life. As it were, Mon Mothma had seemed rather willing to let him die. Ahsoka was aware that the Chancellor was trying to humor her, and if not for that request, the Coalition wouldn’t spend a single credit to save Maul’s life.

They had reached the end of the long corridor, and the sliding doors opened to reveal a vast room with several partitions made of more transparisteel. It was in one of these nooks created by the clear dividers that Maul’s medical capsule was docked at. Of the two GH-8 droids, only one remained beside the pod, while in the place of the other were a pair of 2-1B medical droids: a standard-issue surgical model, and a more advanced, specialized 2-1BXR. Ahsoka and Cebb made a beeline towards them, slightly out of breath.

“According to the data obtained from the capsule, the injuries this individual has obtained are critical. He has less than ten percent probability of survival,” the 2-1BXR automaton stated. “The more we delay surgical intervention, his chances decrease. We must prepare him immediately.”

“Exclude any anesthetics or sedatives from his treatment,” Ahsoka instructed.

All three droids turned and looked at her blankly, their photoreceptors glowing idly. She knew they couldn’t truly feel confusion, but this was likely the closest approximation. After a few seconds’ pause, the 2-1BXR spoke: “Such a request cannot be accommodated, as it is barbaric and against the medical code of ethics we are programmed with. It is also impractical. The patient will not be able to remain absolutely still and we cannot keep his vitals stable if he is conscious the entire time.”

“I know this sounds ludicrous, but I assure you: he has a higher probability of surviving this if he remains awake. Go ahead, open the capsule and ask him yourselves.”

“Our medical programming is constantly being upgraded,” the medical droid stated passively. “With all due respect, our knowledge far supersedes that of any one individual sentient, as it is an amalgamation of all known medical knowledge the galaxy has developed thus far. If we were to comply with the requests of every patient we come across, mortality rates would rise.”

Beneath her mask, Ahsoka bit her lip. She knew Maul would die the moment he lost consciousness but didn’t know how to explain matters of the Force to automatons. Furthermore, she still didn’t trust giving the Rodians any more information than she had to, and that included young Cebb. The kid was alright – he seemed eager to help and genuinely caring – but he still had superiors to report to. The droids themselves, too, could be transmitting a live feed of the entire conversation to members of Navik’s government for all she knew.

“This Zabrak… has a severe allergic reaction to all known tranquilizers we’ve tried so far,” she lied in the end. “Is there anything else you can do to keep him absolutely still? Strapping him down to the operating table, perhaps?”

“He will likely still struggle against the restraints, despite his best efforts,” the droid replied. “Even if that were not the case, and he is able to keep himself from moving, he cannot stop involuntary bodily functions that would arise from experiencing the full procedure. His body will enter a state of shock, and he will die.”

“What about a paralysis beam?” Ahsoka offered, although her stomach turned at the very suggestion. Beside her, Cebb was looking even more green than his normal color.

“Such mechanisms are prohibited in medical facilities,” the 2-1BXR replied passively. “They interfere with equipment.”

“Please,” the other surgical droid interrupted, stepping forward. “Allow us to proceed as we see best. We assure you: there is no one in the entirety of the Outer Rim better equipped to treat this individual’s condition than this medical team before you.”

“If you put him under, you will kill him,” the Togruta insisted, the urgency in her voice nullified by the monotone of the mask’s modulator. However, she knew her objections were futile. There was no arguing against a droid. Their knowledge was set since activation, and anything that was not installed into their matrices since then or updated through upgrades was moot and void to their metal minds.

“What about… newoongall toxin?” Cebb proposed timidly. The entire group turned to look at the young Rodian. He clicked his tongue in discomfort, obviously unused to having everyone’s full attention.

“What is that?” Ahsoka asked. She was eager for alternatives, any.

“Newoongall are native predatory insectoids that live in caverns along the swamplands,” he explained. “They’re terrible. They, um, like to consume their prey alive. They produce this venom that they inject through a stinger, but it… it doesn’t kill. It only causes total paralysis in the somatic nervous system and delayed response in the autonomic nervous system. Which means you cannot move at all or even scream, and your vital organs continue functioning normally for the most part… even as you’re eaten alive by these things.” He shuddered. “I lost an uncle that way, on my mother’s side, during the Supreme Hunt back when my brother and I were kids. By the time the other hunters got him out of the caves, all that was left of him was his head and part of his torso with an arm still attached, ripped open and half-consumed. They even ate his face… I remember it to this day. When… when they brought what was left of him back to the homestead… his heart was still beating. My grandfather took him out of his misery with a single blast through the skull.” Cebb shook his head and rubbed at his own arms anxiously. “A-anyway… the Goa-Ato have begun harvesting the stuff under Navik’s orders. I think they want to weaponize it, but the toxin begins to lose its properties once exposed to the air, so it’s not very good to lace darts or blades with, and so far, efforts to turn it into a nerve gas have also failed. There should be some in this facility, though, in canisters, as the government’s also trying to develop an antidote. That stuff can keep you immobile for days at a time if enough gets into your bloodstream.”

Ahsoka placed a hand sympathetically on the young Rodian’s shoulder and offered a gentle squeeze. Recalling the memory had obviously shaken him up, and she was grateful. Turning back towards the droids, she asked, “Can you use this instead? Is that possible?”

“Such a thing has never been done before, to our knowledge,” the 2-1BXR replied, his photoreceptors glowing as he ran through the information in his central processing unit.

“But can it be done?”

A few seconds’ pause before the droid replied, “According to our known collective knowledge, all factors indicate so. Although, I should emphasize that such a practice would be inhumane and unethical.”

“Then that should be right up Navik’s alley,” Ahsoka quipped. “Better keep notes. Your government might take interest.”

“All medical procedures are documented in our facility’s knowledge hub,” the automaton replied passively, turning away from her, and taking hold of the capsule. “We will now prepare the patient for surgery. Please go to the waiting area. Someone will be with you shortly with the proper admission and authorization forms.”

“Come on,” Cebb said, turning back towards the sliding doors, “I’ll show you the way.”

Before following, Ahsoka cast a final look down at Maul. His eyes were scrunched shut tightly, his jaw clenched. His lips were still moving as he kept up his mutterings, but Ahsoka couldn’t hear him through the transparisteel cover. Strangely, she didn’t feel any more pain caused by the kyber crystals, although she could sense them emitting dark energy. It seemed to flow around and away from her Living Force, as though repelled, and towards the Zabrak’s capsule. She wondered if he had heard any part of the conversation between her and the medical droids. Could he guess what was coming? She winced as she remembered his howl of pain from back on the T-6. Things were about to get so much worse for him. She placed a gloved hand upon the capsule, but he didn’t notice. She let her hand slip back off the pod and walked after Cebb.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka tapped the datapad’s screen with her stylus, submitting the final electronic form pertaining to Maul’s treatment. She had been sitting in the waiting room with Cebb for hours now, poring meticulously over the documents provided to her for review. She had made a point to read over every single clause, double-checking the small print for hidden legal traps she might fall into. She made sure to reject the waivers where the Rodian government took any type of ownership or responsibility of the procedure, knowing those loopholes could be used by them to keep custody of the Nightbrother. When it came to the fields for identifying him, Ahsoka had left out Maul’s name and age. In reality, she wasn’t sure about either of those things, so instead she only checked off the box that dictated his species: Zabrak. She didn’t note that he was a Dathomirian hybrid. As far as she was concerned, the less information the Rodian government obtained, the better.

Cebb watched her quietly as she worked, but not in an intrusive manner. He had a kind disposition that she liked; his aura was naturally gentle and put her at ease. She wondered if the brother he admired so much had been the same. Perhaps the young Rodian had picked up his demeanor from his sibling. By the adoring way he spoke of Able, it made sense that he would try to emulate him. She truly was sorry that Cebb’s brother had to die, although he had worked towards a noble cause.

“All done?” the reptilian sentient asked as the datapad chimed when the last form was accepted. He didn’t sound impatient or judgmental at how long it had taken her.

“Seems like it,” Ahsoka replied, handing him the tablet. “Are they about done; do you think?”

“Hm, probably not,” Cebb replied with a shrug, glancing down at the datapad. “From the readings I got off the med-capsule and your ship’s A.I., your friend needed at least four different surgeries. Our droids are good, and fast, but not that fast.”

“He’s not my friend,” the ex-Jedi clarified. “Old man wasn’t lying when he said I’m the one who did him that way.”

“Um, why did you hurt him so badly?” the Rodian asked her timidly. When she turned her gaze upon him, he instinctively cringed into himself a bit. “I-I mean… if you wanted him alive. Why not just stun him, or at least wound him less severely?”

“It… was an accident,” Ahsoka said. The way Cebb had phrased the question – Why did you hurt him? – made her feel unsettled, that old sense of guilt creeping up on her again. Hurt him. She remembered what that gaping hole felt like beneath the pad of her thumb when her hand slipped on the blood, Maul’s tortured scream echoing in her montrals and sending a shiver down her spine. His anguished, longing stare as she walked away from him in the cold desert night, leaving him to the mercy of invertebrate parasites. How simple it was to dismiss it all as an accident. How convenient for her conscience. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. At least the mask’s voice distorter filtered out such sounds, so the young Rodian didn’t notice her discomfort.

“So, is he your travel companion? More of a working partner?” When the Togruta remained silent, Cebb squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m s-sorry… I don’t mean to pry. It’s only that… well, you do seem very concerned about him, a-and you said he was important to you. And… and… well, I know what that’s like, losing someone important. Even if it isn’t a friend.”

Ahsoka sighed. Her heart really did go out to the kid.

“He’s actually a… prisoner. He’s extremely dangerous, Cebb.”

“Is he?” the Rodian asked. “Well, he looked scary at first, but he seemed nice.” After a pause, he added shyly, rubbing at his snout nervously, “Okay, to be honest, I think all Zabraks look scary. With those horns and… why do they tattoo their faces like that? I’d only seen holos of them in medical studies, but he is the first one I see in the flesh. Their tattoos and skin color don’t show that well on holograms, so I was shocked to see his were so contrasting! It never occurred to me that their markings would move like that when they talked. It makes their features stand out more, and it makes me nervous. Rodian facial movements are subtle, and easy to read for me. When he spoke to me, I thought he was going to bite me, but then I realized he was trying to make a pleasant expression, right? That’s what it means when most other sentients show their teeth that way, doesn’t it? And I’m rambling now, sorry.”

Ahsoka smiled behind her mask. Cebb was such an innocent soul. From the few things he’d mentioned, and from what she knew of Rodian culture, he had probably never been offworld, and unless he lived in Equator City – which was doubtful – he had also likely never been exposed to many other races.

“I don’t mind your questions,” she assured him. “It’s good to have a curious disposition.” She decided that giving the Rodian a small amount of general information wouldn’t do any harm. “Yes, he is a wanted criminal. I was taking him back to Chandrila, where he will likely be sentenced and incarcerated. While I was apprehending him, I lost control of the situation and he almost escaped. I panicked and shot him.”

“Shot him?” Cebb asked, his antennae twitching in surprise. “With what‽ I’ve never seen any blaster do that before!”

“Not a blaster,” Ahsoka corrected. “Cycler rifle. From Tatooine.”

“Ah, Tatooine,” the Rodian said, his blue eyes gleaming. “I’ve never been there! Or anywhere other than here, for that matter.” He looked up at the ceiling wistfully. “If I were as good a bounty hunter as Abe was, I could have left this place a long time ago. But I’m not cut out for that stuff, I guess.” He turned to look over at her curiously. “Is that where you’re from? Tatooine?”

The Togruta shook her head. “No, I’m from Shili. However, I was raised in Coruscant.”

Cebb let out a long appreciative hoot under his breath. “Wuu!” he gasped, “All the way from Imperial City! What’s it like?”

Imperial City. Well, yes, she supposed that for someone as young as Cebb, the ecumenopolis had only ever been known as such, rather than Galactic City. “Not as glamorous as you probably imagine,” Ahsoka said, the mask’s modulator removing any emotion from her tone, likely for the best. “Especially in the lower levels. People really struggle to get by over there. I’m sure you’d find it not so different from the slums of any other world. Believe me, Cebb, you’re not missing out on much.”

“Oh, I disagree.” Cebb replied. He looked as though he were about to continue, but just then, his bracer computer blipped. Glancing down at his gauntlet, the young Rodian’s snout suddenly twitched nervously. “Ah, it’s, um… Crupp is on the comm.”

Ahsoka nodded silently and allowed Cebb to answer the call. The young Rodian straightened up in his seat, absentmindedly smoothing the front of his shirt and clearing his throat before tapping the screen on his arm and activating the small holo-projector.

The square face of the Goa-Ato leader appeared and he barked something brusquely at Cebb in Rodese. Glancing over at the masked Togruta, the younger Rodian replied meekly. Although Ahsoka couldn’t understand their native tongue, she could tell Cebb was stuttering, just as he did when speaking to her. It seemed to be a nervous tick of his.

Their conversation was short, and Cebb quickly shut off his gauntlet before addressing her.

“Um, Miss…”

“It’s Fulcrum,” the Togruta said, only then realizing that she hadn’t introduced herself to the young lad back in the medical repulsorcraft. “Ditch the formalities, too. I don’t have much use for titles.”

“Ah, right,” Cebb said with an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing at his snout again. “Well, um, Fulcrum, Master Crupp wanted you to know that Senator Dor Wieedo has arrived from Equator City to meet with you. He wants me to escort you to the Eanca Goa-Ato at once.”

Ahsoka sat up straight, jolted by the news. Quite honestly, she had forgotten all about the Rodian senator and whatever negotiations she would need to discuss with him. So engrossed had she been in the jargon and legalese of the lengthy documentation she’d had to go through. “This Eanca… what is it?” she asked the young Rodian.

“The Hunter’s Guild Hall, as it’s known in Basic Standard,” Cebb clarified. “It’s not too far from here, just two buildings over. Navik wanted to make sure the Emergency Services building was constructed as close to it as possible, seeing as how his own Chambers are located in there. It’ll only take us a few minutes to arrive, even if we walk.”

“If it’s so close by, can’t Dor Wieedo come here instead?” Ahsoka asked. She was wary about leaving Maul. During the hours she had been filling out documents, she had occasionally sensed the kyber crystals beneath her lek burn hotly at times, felt them leak dark energy as the Zabrak endured his grueling surgeries. They had become relatively dormant for a while now, so she hoped the worst of it was over for the Nightbrother. As apprehensive as she was towards the entire enterprise which she had set off on with him, she also wanted his suffering to be over as quickly as possible, even if that meant he’d pose more of a threat to her life. She didn’t like inflicting pain onto others, and although she felt she’d had no other real way of dealing with Maul at the time, she knew her sense of guilt wouldn’t go away until he was out of danger. Leaving him alone in a building crawling with bounty hunters – some of whom were probably under the payrolls of several of Maul’s enemies – was likely to increase his peril.

“Ah, um… I didn’t ask,” Cebb admitted shyly. “I didn’t think it’d be a problem for you. A-and also, all dealings are done within the Eanca. At least, they have been since Navik took over during the times of the Empire. All major government offices have been moved there over the years, save for the Imperial Embassy. I’m sorry: the New Republic Embassy now, right? That is still over in Equator City. But I guess most off-worlders would rather stay over there.” The Rodian hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat before continuing, “I really do think it best if we listen to Crupp this time. I know you don’t trust our government – and I don’t blame you. No one should.” That last part he said in a whisper, looking down at his lap. “But the med-droids here are top-class. I don’t just mean that in the performance sense. Their work ethic is also great! They won’t allow anyone access to your, um – what’s his name? – until he’s recovered. I know them, they’re decent, y-you know, for droids.”

Ahsoka smiled beneath her mask and gave an assenting nod, followed by a small shrug. She believed Cebb; it seemed he had a good working relationship with the droids inside the facility. She had noticed by how they had patiently allowed him to offer his suggestion – which turned out to be a good one, actually – and the fact that he spoke up then at all. It was evident to Ahsoka from the Rodian’s mannerisms that he rarely said anything unless spoken to first. Everyone seemed to intimidate him, poor thing. He had a gentle personality, and among Rodians, that was not seen as a favorable trait. She could see that he probably liked the droids he worked with better than the members of the Goa-Ato. She recalled the derision in his tone when he’d said he was their mascot. The kid deserved more. She wished she could help him, but unfortunately, she had more than her share of problems to deal with at the moment. The ex-Jedi determined then that once her affair with Maul was over and done with, she would return to Rodia and seek out Cebb. In the meantime, there really was no benefit in antagonizing Navik’s government any further. Her negotiations with the senator were likely going to be difficult as it were, and she had to be mindful that she was representing Mon Mothma herself.

She stood with a sigh and waited for Cebb to do the same. As he did so, a droid rounded the corner and headed towards them. It was another GH-8 model, and it hovered before them politely. At Cebb’s nod, the automaton addressed her.

“I am proud to announce that the medical procedures went well. The patient required extensive work, but we were successful in repairing all damages, both organic and cybernetic.”

“Cybernetic‽” yelped Cebb before he could stop himself.

“Correct,” the GH replied in its pleasant masculine voice. “The prosthetic limbs were in dire need of repairs. We upgraded the circuitry and replaced some of the internal joint components. All mechanisms within were cleansed and lubricated. I hope this was acceptable? We were told to spare no expense.”

“It’s fine,” Ahsoka replied, although she was frowning beneath her mask. The medical droids had inadvertently made the Zabrak more lethal. Subconsciously, she rubbed at her midsection, recalling the kick Maul had landed on her during their scuffle on Tatooine. As if that hadn’t been painful enough, now he would be able to land kicks quicker, with more accuracy, and probably harder than before. Great.

“That is good to know,” the droid continued, “for we also took the liberty of doing a complete hygienic deep cleaning of his oral cavity. It didn’t seem he’d had access to dental care in quite a while.”

Ahsoka shrugged. Well, there couldn’t be any harm in that. She supposed that would reduce her chance of getting an infected wound if the Dathomirian ever decided to return the favor and bite her for a change.

“He’s a cyborg‽” Cebb whispered in awe, apparently still processing that bit of information. “Is that… is that normal for his species? Are tattoos and implants the norm, or…?”

Ahsoka couldn’t help but laugh. The voice modulator muted out all sound of it, but she doubled over, her frame shaking. The young Rodian’s innocence was simply too much. At Cebb’s perplexed and slightly worried look her way, the Togruta straightened up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are… are you okay?” he asked timidly.

“I’m fine, Cebb, just having a laugh. Sorry,” she added quickly. “I don’t mean to offend. You’ve just got a lot to learn about the galaxy at large.” She tilted her head to the side and looked him over. “Maybe I should take you along with me after this,” she offered. “In the short time I’ve known you, I can already tell you’re much nicer company than Ma–aaii ward.” Skrog, she’d almost said his name out loud.

Cebb’s antennae twitched in surprise, and he ran his hand over his snout bashfully, fidgeting in place. “Ah, um, really? Thank you, but… I don’t have clearance to get offworld. Only real bounty hunters are allowed to do that. And, um, even… even if I could, I wouldn’t. I… I have a family to look after.”

Ahsoka nodded. “I understand,” she said. She’d spoken on a spur of the moment, and it made sense that the young Rodian would have things binding him to his home world. It made her a bit wistful, knowing she no longer had a place to tie her down. The Grand Temple of the Jedi had long ago been converted into the Imperial Palace, and after the death of Palpatine and the surrender of Grand Vizier Amedda, the structure had fallen into disrepair. “Home... is a feeling,” Obi-Wan had said to her on Tatooine, and Ahsoka realized grimly that she had not known a home for decades now. Cebb was a lucky kid, in that he hadn’t experienced what being completely adrift felt like.

“For the moment,” the GH was continuing with its report, “the patient is in a recovery bacta tank until his paralysis wears out.”

“How soon will that be?” Ahsoka asked immediately, her thoughts racing back to her dangerous captive.

“We are unsure,” the droid replied. “We gave him a standard dose as has been reported in stings from fully grown newoongall on adult males, but as all previous subjects have been Rodians, we do not know how quickly a Zabrak’s body will process the neurotoxin. Our instruments are monitoring his brainwaves, however. He is conscious and appears to have no negative aftereffects thus far.”

“If he so much as twitches in that tank, hit him with another dose,” Ahsoka instructed sharply. “We already know it won’t kill him.” Turning to the young Rodian beside her, she nodded. “Let’s go, Cebb. Lead the way.”

A bit taken aback; the medic otherwise complied. “Ah, um, this way,” he said.

As they walked down the corridor, Ahsoka noticed the Rodian looking over at her out of the corner of his eye. The former Padawan didn’t need to tap into the Force to understand that the kid was uncomfortable. She sighed. “Go ahead, Cebb,” she told him. “Say what’s on your mind. It’s not good to keep your thoughts bottled up inside like that.”

“Ah, oh! It’s only that… it’s just…”

“Yes?”

“Y-you really mean business, don’t you? About your prisoner, or whatever he is. It’s just… keeping him on newoongall venom…” He shuddered. “I’m not sure he deserves that. It’s really awful stuff.”

“He’s a murderer, Cebb. Given half the chance, he’ll rip his way out of that bacta tank with no regard to who he hurts.”

“Is that why you panicked? Were you afraid he’d try to kill you, too?”

“He means to kill me. I know it. He’s told me so, even as I sought medical aid for him.”

“Then why try to save him at all?”

“This is far more important than beyond what I want,” the Togruta replied stoically, looking straight ahead. “He’s needed alive, so I’m taking him in alive. That’s all.” She really did not want to continue with the topic of conversation. The situation was far too complicated for her to explain in the timespan covered by a short walk. There was too much bitter history which she couldn’t bring herself to voice out loud, all the things about the Force aside.

By this point, they had reached the outside of Emergency Services and were walking along the pedway towards an enormous building made of brick and durasteel. It was several stories high, and heavily armored. It had an almost pyramidal shape, with rustic, slanted stone stairs going up one face of it. Ahsoka could tell that it was immensely old, likely from a time of pre-intergalactic exploration for the Rodians. It had been maintained and modernized over the generations, leaving the additions – such as electric lights and docking spaces for speeders and small aircraft – looking out of place. As they walked up to the edifice’s main entrance, they were met with heavily armed and armored guards, as large and dour-looking as Phex Crupp. The pair stopped, and Cebb fumbled with his gauntlet in order to produce a holographic identification. He squeaked out something in Rodese which the Togruta couldn’t understand, but she caught the names “Dor Wieedo” and “Crupp.” The guards grunted a reply that didn’t sound too polite, but they allowed them through. As Ahsoka and Cebb walked inside, the Togruta heard the bounty hunters snicker in small grunting hoots. Cebb said nothing of it, but she noticed how his slender hands balled into fists at his sides, and his quills bristled slightly.

From the main lobby of the building, they approached a discreet-looking set of sliding doors. At Cebb’s clearance chip, these opened to reveal a private elevator. The two stepped inside and the young Rodian entered a code on the control panel in the wall. “This lift will take us directly to Senator Wieedo’s office,” Cebb explained quietly as the gears within the elevator mechanisms began to activate. “It can move both horizontally and vertically throughout the building, so it saves on walking time. Still, it’s a little disorienting if you’re not used to it. You can grab onto the stabilizing bars along the wall if you begin to feel dizzy.”

“Thanks,” Ahsoka replied. “I’ll take you up on that.” In reality, she knew she’d be fine, even as she felt the elevator begin to pick up its pace. Togrutas were naturally spry and acrobatic, and coupled with her combat training and life among the stars, that made her pretty adept at handling unexpected motion in her surroundings. It had been years since she’d felt the effects of space adaptation syndrome, but she decided to humor the Rodian, sensing that he needed to feel validated and appreciated after their rude encounter with the guards.

The trip was quiet and as Cebb had predicted, didn’t take too long. The going was a bit rough once the elevator worked up its speed, but Ahsoka really only grabbed hold of the bars for the young medic’s sake. All too soon, the room stilled, and the sliding doors opened with a hiss. Cebb nodded to her before stepping out and waiting for her right outside the doors. With a resigned sigh, Ahsoka followed.

The room they ended up in was spacious and opulently decorated. Curtains of red shimmersilk with gold embroidered edges were draped over tiny windows: a vain attempt at disguising the military nature of the structure. The furniture was made of ornately carved wood and highly polished. Upon the shelves were intricate figurines made of various materials: mostly precious metals or stone inlaid with crystal. It was an office meant to showcase Rodian wealth and prestige, nestled within this building that represented power. Ahsoka was not impressed.

A slightly paunchy, middle-aged Rodian with blue-green scales and black eyes was waiting for them alongside Phex Crupp in the center of the room, standing in front of a large, glossy wooden desk. They stood facing each other, as though they had been entertaining a casual conversation, but Ahsoka could sense from the atmosphere in the room that this too, was mere theatre. The senator was rather short for a Rodian, and his physique was also not common among his kind. In order for him to be so out of shape, he had to be leading an extravagant lifestyle.

Upon seeing them enter, Dor Wieedo instantly walked forward, his snout twitching into the fakest smile Ahsoka had ever seen: tiny lips pressed together and curving up at the corners. Rodians didn’t show expressions in the same manner as most other humanoid species, due to the structure of their faces. That Dor Wieedo was able to emulate what other races would interpret as a smile immediately meant to Ahsoka that he was forcing his mannerisms to put her at ease. He might just prove more dangerous than the Master of the Goa-Ato standing beside him, for he was obviously a seasoned politician. Ergo, cunning and manipulative. The Togruta was especially grateful for her mask at that moment, as it hid her disgust.

Stepping up to them, the Rodian senator inclined his head to her respectfully and crossed his arms over his chest, placing long, spindly hands over his own shoulders in the traditional Rodian greeting. Ahsoka returned the gesture out of respect for the culture, although she knew Dor Wieedo wasn’t being genuine. Frankly, she preferred Cebb’s impulsive and slightly awkward handshake; that had been far more earnest, if informal for their kind.

“We are honored to receive a direct ambassador from the Chancellor,” Wieedo said. Ahsoka found his voice to be oily and sly, like she was sure the rest of him was. “Please, join me at my desk. May I offer you a drink?”

“The New Republic is thankful for your people’s aid,” Ahsoka replied measuredly. “As this is an urgent matter, discussions shouldn’t take long. I appreciate your hospitality, but I would rather remain standing. Please, don’t trouble yourself with any beverages on my behalf.”

Ahsoka noticed all three Rodians involuntarily twitched their snouts: a sign of unease or displeasure. However, the senator quickly pressed his lips into that hypocritical smile, splaying his long-fingered hands at his side, palms facing forward. “Of course, I understand the urgency of this situation. I have already spoken to the Chancellor’s advisor, Velus, in regard to your arrival. Rest assured, the New Republic has our government’s complete and absolute cooperation.” Glancing over at Phex Crupp, the senator continued, “I take it you would rather discuss such delicate matters in private.”

“I would,” the Togruta answered. At a nod from the senator, Phex Crupp squinted and flapped his antennae in the Rodian equivalent of a scowl. With a derisive grunt, the large bounty hunter walked forward, seemingly towards them at first, only at the last moment deviating off-course slightly to walk towards the elevator. He pushed himself past Cebb roughly, causing the young medic to stumble back a few steps. He barked a single command in Rodese and nervously, Cebb followed him, casting a final glance towards Ahsoka. He never once tried to make eye-contact with the senator.

Once they were alone, Dor Wieedo moved towards his desk, gesturing for Ahsoka to follow. She obliged, albeit warily. “You won’t mind if I sit, I hope,” he said mildly, going around to the other side and sinking into a hover-chair cushioned with velvet. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be.” Ahsoka only nodded in assent, minding her tongue. She knew the game the Rodian was playing, had seen it before: act the feeble, pleasant old man with the polite mannerisms and charming disposition in order to get what he wanted. She wouldn’t be fooled the way the Jedi Council had in the past.

“Now,” Wieedo began, smoothing out his own extravagant robes. They were emerald colored, made of veda cloth, by the looks of it. “Velus tells me you are transporting a dangerous criminal who must be delivered immediately to the NRC authorities. He must be quite important for the New Republic to not only want him to answer to the core galactic government directly, but to be willing to pay such an enormous amount to assure his survival. Tell me: who is he?”

Ahsoka crossed her arms in front of her chest, instantly apprehensive. She knew this question would come up sooner or later; had been thinking about it since she’d set course for the Tyrius system, and even more actively since filling out the medical authorization forms at Emergency Services. She’d left a lot of fields blank regarding Maul’s identification, which she had been sure would raise red flags.

“I do not have that information fully,” she half-lied. “I do not know his real name, only that he has been known by many over the course of several years.”

“Yes, I noticed many of the identification fields on our medical forms weren’t filled out,” Dor Wieedo mused, keeping his tone light and friendly. He tapped idly at a datapad that only until that moment the former Padawan noticed he had on his desk before him. “This is unfortunate. We would have liked to have been able to provide further prosecutorial assistance if necessary, but I’m afraid such a thing is impossible if we don’t know who this culprit is.”

Ahsoka held absolutely still, unnerved. She understood the veiled implication behind the Rodian politician’s words. Navik’s government wasn’t trying to be helpful by prying information about Maul: they wanted to know if her prisoner had connections to any of the syndicates they worked with. Although they were technically aligned with the New Republic, the Rodians were ultimately loyal to whoever the largest beneficiary was. If Navik could garner more profits from pirates and cartels, he would find a way to get his bishwag Wieedo to circumvent the Chancellor’s authority so they could operate outside the law. “I find it rather strange,” the senator continued, pressing his lips into that false smile. “So odd that the New Republic would be transporting someone deemed so dangerous on an unarmed transport shuttle, accompanied by an agent of the law who is only armed with a blaster pistol and rudimentary weapons from the Sand Apes of Tatooine.”

Ahsoka grit her teeth behind her mask. Wieedo’s voice was like slime oozing around her montrals. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that her ship had been thoroughly checked. She was thankful she had both her real weapons and Maul’s hidden on her person. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself over such things,” she replied tersely. “Your government will receive a full reimbursement for the medical services you’ve so generously provided.”

“We are an industrial society,” Dor Wieedo said. “The financial support is appreciated, of course, but not what we require of the New Republic.”

Ah, now they were getting to the meat of the subject. Ahsoka nodded in understanding, trying to appear relaxed. “I am a direct representative for the Chancellor,” she said, again speaking half-truths. “I can relay a message.”

“Oh, but you see,” the Rodian said, “Velus is there for the passing on of such messages. We need guarantees.”

“Are you suggesting the NRC barter with Navik over the handing over of the prisoner?” Ahsoka asked pointedly. She could feel her temper flaring up again, against her better judgement. She accredited at least part of that impatience to the bled crystals hiding in her lekku sleeves.

“Goodness, no!” Dor Wieedo exclaimed, feigning innocent alarm. “I am only expressing the legitimate concern our government has in regard to the strength of our membership within the New Republic. You understand. We have done nothing but comply with whatever requests the Chancellor has asked of us, yet our pleas for guaranteed military assistance as insurrection and terrorist attempts assail our world have gone unheeded. This is becoming a one-sided relationship, and not beneficial to us. All we simply ask for in return for our continued loyalty is a bit in return, nothing more.”

“If you’re referring to having the New Republic deploy actual military forces to Rodia, you know fully well that it is not within the Chancellor’s power to execute. As a member of the Galactic Senate, you have more sway over these matters, and only the High Command can give such an order.”

“I’ll have you know that I voted against the Military Disarmament Act,” the Rodian stated coolly, placing his hands on top of his desk and interlacing long fingers. Ahsoka noticed he did this in an attempt to keep them steady, as he appeared irritated, but the tapping of his thumbs together and another slight twitch of his snout betrayed his emotions. “Ten percent of the Defense Fleet remains. We were promised in the Senate that aid would still arrive to those worlds who requested it, yet all the New Republic has offered so far is training personnel. We are a nation of proud hunters, soldiers. Our people know how to fight. We require no training. What we need is the official backing of the interstellar authority. A guarantee that if a coup were to occur, the New Republic army will intercede on our Grand Protector’s behalf.”

The New Republic is not in the business of upholding dictatorships, a voice whispered darkly in Ahsoka’s mind. She could feel the bled kyber crystals in Maul’s weapon resonating slightly and she shook her head, briefly nonplussed. She wasn’t sure that had been her own thought, and it unsettled her. It was certainly what she wanted to say but knew better than to give voice to.

“I’m sure the Republic… will do all within its power to make sure such a thing doesn’t occur on Rodia to begin with,” she said instead. “There are diplomatic measures that can be taken to ensure this, ambassadors who can come up with de-escalation proposals your government can enact. Perhaps reparations are in order which Navik can offer the Rodian people. That would go a long way to easing the tensions currently on your world.”

“You off-worlders understand nothing of our culture,” Dor Wieedo snapped, “yet you presume to tell us how to run our planet. This is why the Inta’si’rin’na has often needed to search for help elsewhere. It is so unfortunate.” He shook his head slowly, lowering his eyelids in a gesture of sorrow, fake as everything else about him was. “But all is well, rest assured. We hold no hostilities.” He saluted her in the Rodian fashion again. This time, Ahsoka didn’t return the gesture, instead tightening her grip on her own arms and only nodding slightly in acknowledgement. “As a protocol of our own security forces, we will keep the individual within custody until we have clearly identified him. You are welcome to remain here as well, of course. Understand that this measure is for our own people’s well-being.”

Ahsoka started up at once, incensed. “I fail to see how keeping a dangerous criminal on your planet is beneficial to the Rodian people,” she seethed.

“Letting him depart when we have fully restored him, accompanied only by a poorly-armed warden on an unarmed civilian shuttle… well, take no offense, but you see how this most certainly guarantees his escape while still in our system. Once we determine who he is, and the level of danger he actually poses, we can assign a proper security detail to escort you to the Core.” The senator gave her his tight-lipped, false, teeny smile once more, his cold eyes remaining fixated upon her. “The sooner we verify his identity, the more quickly we can go through this entire process.”

Skrog. The Rodian had her backed into a corner, and they both knew it. Navik’s government could, using legal means, keep Maul imprisoned until they had their way. Wieedo would make sure through internal negotiations in the Senate that the High Command wouldn’t interfere. Mon Mothma herself would be powerless and may even lose political favor among various systems who sympathized with the Rodians if she insisted on opposing their decision. Ahsoka was in no position to bargain with them, which Dor Wieedo had likely also already deduced. He was holding her hostage along with Maul under the guise of diplomacy and wasn’t expected to back down. The only thing she had to offer him was knowledge, and he suspected it. She understood that this is precisely what he wanted. Damned if she was going to let him have it. However, she had to at least pretend to want to work with him. Dealing with Dor Wieedo was not as easy as handling Crupp: she couldn’t just wave a hand in front of his face and make him do what she wanted. She had figured that the senator was in his position for good reason, and she had just confirmed it. There was a sharp mind and cunning intellect behind that aged and pot-bellied appearance. A mind trick wasn’t likely to work on him, and besides: she was sure there was at least one recorder somewhere in the room. She hissed under her breath; the sound negated wholly by her mask.

“I am sorry I am unable to offer much information other than the little I have,” she told him, doing her best not to tap her foot irately.

“Oh, I’m sure any intel you have on our mystery subject will be put to good use by our Intelligence Officials,” Dor Wieedo said with that damned smile. He tried to hide his smugness by crinkling his large eyes up at her, but as it was not a natural expression for Rodians, it only came across as though he were squinting suspiciously at her.

“He has been operating in the underground for a long time,” Ahsoka said cautiously, purposefully not offering a timestamp. “Always evading capture and wreaking havoc on systems. He’s an anarchist, essentially.” She searched for the proper words she could use to offer essentially nothing of value to the senator. Something that would keep him busy while she came up with a plan to sneak off the damn planet with her captive. It wouldn’t be easy, and Dor Wieedo was smart. What could she offer him that would…? A name, perhaps? “During the time of the Empire, he was known only as the Shadow.”

The moment she spoke the words, she immediately regretted it, for the Rodian’s large eyes became even larger, and he perked up instantly. She noticed that he tried to suppress his reaction, but his hands were trembling slightly, and he clasped them all the more tightly on his desk. Ahsoka wasn’t sure if Dor Wieedo was afraid or excited. Perhaps both.

“My, my, you should have mentioned this sooner!” he murmured, immediately rising to his feet. “The Empire knew him as the Shadow, you say?” He walked around his desk and moved past her quickly, heading towards the elevator doors. “Would you happen to know if he was ever hunted by the Inquisitorius?”

Ahsoka nearly groaned out loud. Well, of course, she should’ve thought of it sooner: Cebb had mentioned that Navik’s Goa-Ato worked closely with the Empire, hadn’t he? The young medic had said derisively how the Inquisitors had often hired Rodian bounty hunters on what essentially were suicide missions. If they’d had trouble capturing Maul, it made sense that they’d have the Rodians on their payroll to help flush him out. She knew there was no use in denying facts any further, but she also didn’t want to admit to Wieedo that she’d known exactly who she’d brought in for treatment all along. Best if she continued to feign ignorance.

“I never worked with the Empire,” she replied coldly instead, following after him. “Therefore, I wouldn’t know the answer to your question. By your reaction, I take that to mean you understand the threat my captive poses, and thus won’t hinder my departure with him. It is of utmost importance that I begin my journey back to the Core as soon as possible. I must report to the Chancellor directly.”

Dor Wieedo glanced over at her, his hands gripping themselves tightly in front of him. Yes, he was definitely afraid. Hastily, he pushed back the flowing sleeves off one of his arms to reveal a bracer computer gauntlet similar to Cebb’s. Tapping the touchscreen with long, suction-tipped digits, he brought up the communicator to his face and spoke quickly in Rodese. Instants later, the doors to the elevator opened again and Phex Crupp walked purposefully into the room.

“Please, Master Crupp, accompany our guest back to her ship. I’m sure she has plenty to report back to the Chancellor, and I must meet with the Inta’si’rin’na at once.”

“I would much rather return to Emergency Services first, to check up on my ward.” Ahsoka said quickly. “I need the full detailed medical file on him before I can report to the New Republic.”

“Of course, of course,” Dor Wieedo said absently, already returning to his desk. The Togruta noticed him reaching beneath the tabletop to produce a large expensive-looking glass bottle of liquor. She couldn’t be sure, but his scaly skin looked a bit pallid. “Master Crupp, if you will, do as she requests.”

Phex Crupp didn’t look happy about his orders, but he nodded curtly before heading back to the elevator. Ahsoka stepped in beside him, apprehensive. Once the doors closed, and the room began to move, the former Jedi turned to the large Rodian and asked, “Where is the young medic who accompanied me here? He has been of great help.”

“Nereno has his duties to attend to,” Crupp growled, keeping his eyes straight ahead, facing the closed doors. “He wasted enough of his day pandering already.” After a moment of tense silence, he added, a malevolent glint lighting up his protruding eyes, “Also, he is not a medic. Merely a droids’ helper. A poor one, at that.”

Ahsoka felt her face flush with anger, and pressed her lips tightly closed in order to keep herself from replying with some crass remark. Just then, the lift came to a full stop, and the doors opened. Crupp walked out immediately without waiting for her and made towards the main entrance. Ahsoka took long strides to catch up and made sure to walk directly beside him, refusing to follow in his wake.

They had no issues with the guards at the doors this time around, with the pair who had sneered at Cebb instantly saluting the Goa-Ato leader and crisply standing aside stoically. Ahsoka was very tempted to make a rude sign to the two as she passed.

No sooner had they entered the Emergency Services building, than another GH-8 model droid hovered over to them. “Welcome back,” it said pleasantly, addressing Ahsoka directly. “We have just notified M.A. Nereno that the patient has been taken out of bacta. We hope he was able to relay the message to you.”

Before Ahsoka could respond, Phex Crupp stepped toward the droid menacingly. “Who instructed you to report to Nereno, you floating scrapheap?” he growled. “He has no authority around here.”

The med-droid drew back a bit instantly. It seemed even the automatons on Rodia were cowed by the Goa-Ato Master. “The medical records provided state that the patient falls under the jurisdiction and responsibility of the New Republic, who is in turn being represented by Agent Fulcrum here. As she had been accompanied by M.A. Nereno the entire time the medical procedures took place, we assumed he was our best contact for her.”

“Your best and only contact between Rodia and Agent Fulcrum is me,” Crupp sneered, putting an extra-derisive tone when he mentioned Ahsoka’s name. “Do you understand‽”

“We will make a note of this for future reference,” the GH-8 replied passively, bobbing slightly in place. Ahsoka couldn’t be sure, but the droid seemed somewhat amused. She could see why Cebb liked the automatons better than the bounty hunters.

“Where is my ward now?” Ahsoka interrupted, ignoring Crupp completely. She tried to sense Maul’s dark aura through the crystals in his weapon, but they had remained dormant since that strange incident at the Eanca. Hopefully, that meant the Nightbrother was asleep.

“We have moved him into a room where he can rest more comfortably,” the medical droid replied. “If you will follow me, right this way,” it gestured down the hallway with a tiny arm, “I will lead you to him.”

“Thank you,” the Togruta answered with a nod. However, Crupp interceded once again.

“You are not authorized as of yet to take custody of the prisoner,” he said threateningly.

“Does it look like I’m taking him yet‽” Ahsoka snapped, hands on her hips. “As I told the senator just now, I need to see what state he’s in before I can contact my higher authority within the NRC. Senator Wieedo ordered you to comply with my wishes, didn’t he? Are you going to go against a command from your own government official? How will Navik look before the Republic if he can’t even keep order within his own political structure?” She took great pleasure in seeing Crupp’s snout twitch, flapping from side to side in anger. “I am sure,” she added, grinning behind her impervium mask, “that you have several important duties to attend to. Please, don’t bother wasting any more of your day pandering. This fine medical droid is qualified enough to escort me.”

Crupp glared at her for a moment before muttering something in Rodese – rude, she was sure, by the GH’s worried bleeps – and turning back towards the exit. Fuming, he marched away and was soon out the sliding doors. Once he was gone, Ahsoka turned to the droid. “You’ll tell Cebb about that interaction for me, won’t you?” she asked cheerfully. The voice modulator of her mask hid her gleeful tone, but the droid caught on to it anyway.

“Oh, I will play back the entire thing for him,” it replied, bobbing in place again. “I was recording the entire exchange.”

Ahsoka laughed, the mask absorbing the sound once more. She cut her snickering short, however, when she remembered what was still coming up ahead. “Please,” she said, “lead the way.”

As she walked along beside the hovering med-droid, she asked, “Did you restrain him?”

“We did,” replied the GH. “As was requested on the forms. I should point out that it may be unnecessary. He has not made any attempt to move. Newoongall toxin usually takes about 48 standard hours to run its course through an adult Rodian’s system. The effects are purged from the autonomic nervous system first, so even if the individual were to try and fake continued paralysis, our instruments would instantly detect the changes in blood pressure, pulse and breathing rate. Those of the patient you brought in have not changed since the venom was administered. Even if a Zabrak’s body were to process the toxin faster than a Rodian’s – which well may be the case – the difference is probably slight. Only a couple of hours, is our collective guess.”

“Hm, you’re probably right,” Ahsoka agreed. “Still, I would rather take the extra precaution.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, going down the long hallway to another elevator. The GH-8 explained how Maul had been transferred to another floor since he was no longer in need of intensive care. He was removed from the bacta tank, it rationalized, because there was really nothing more the fluid could do for the Dathomirian. All internal damage had been corrected by the series of surgeries he’d undergone, and the bacta was used to help the surgical site close up and heal correctly. “The bacta also regenerated the burns on the patient’s head and upper torso, and helped the arm heal some lacerations caused by an apparent animal attack,” it added casually as the lift transported them to the appropriate level. “We decided not to administer any serum, as that would probably affect the potency of the newoongall toxin, and we understood you wanted him under the full effect of it for as long as possible.”

“Correct,” Ahsoka replied, not too happy at being reminded of that choice. What other alternative had she had, really? “I don’t know how much information was relayed to your medical team, but this individual is highly dangerous. He would destroy much of this facility and its staff if he were able to move. I’m sure of that.”

“We were informed to keep a tight security detail on him, at least until we receive further orders. Ah, here we are. This is the Recovery Wing.”

The elevator had stopped smoothly, and the doors slid open. Ahsoka followed after the GH-8 into another long hallway, pristine as the rest of the building thus far. They rounded a corner, and the Togruta didn’t need the droid to point out which room Maul was in. There was a pair of burly, armored Rodians standing at attention just outside the door, blaster rifles held at the ready before them. Ahsoka wondered if they were as dim-witted as Crupp. She hoped so: in case she’d need to resort to another mind trick. However, it didn’t seem she needed to have worried, for they stepped away from the sliding doors to let them pass the moment she and the GH approached them.

The former Padawan looked around the room as she walked in, the med-droid hovering beside her at shoulder height. The room was small and spotless: all in white, with no furniture or seats for visitors. There was only a single medical capsule in the center, and Maul lay inside it, his eyes closed, apparently sleeping. He was pinned to the medical gurney by energy straps, and there were stun cuffs keeping his ankles together and his wrists shackled to the rails at his sides. The cover was down, and the Togruta could see electric nodes stuck to his forehead and torso, likely keeping track of his vitals. Ahsoka stepped up to the hovering capsule and looked down at the Zabrak, observing the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He certainly appeared to be in better shape. Even his skin was a more vivid shade of crimson, and his tattoos didn’t look so faded. It seemed his time in the bacta tank had allowed him to de-age, although she knew that was impossible. Her eyes immediately swept down to his legs and she confirmed that, yes, in fact, several components had been replaced with newer, more advanced-looking parts. Gone were the leather strips that held exposed wiring in place, and unable to help herself, Ahsoka reached over and ran a gloved hand over the shiny new metal plating covering the pylon on one of the legs.

“Is this durasteel?” she asked, leaning in a bit closer in order to get a better look.

“Enhanced titanium,” replied the GH-8. “As you know, it is a stronger alloy than durasteel.”

“Lower density, too,” muttered Ahsoka, frowning beneath her mask. Were the Rodians trying to sabotage her mission? Well, of course they were, she supposed, although enhancing the Dathomirian criminal in this way was likely counterproductive to them as well, if they meant to keep him, as she suspected.

“More importantly, titanium is the only metal known to be biocompatible and able to graft fully onto organic bone,” the droid said. “The fact this individual was able to survive for what appeared to be quite some time with durasteel prosthetics alone is quite a feat.”

Ahsoka looked over at the GH, a bit startled. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” the medical droid began patiently, floating over to her side, “having the external plating be made of durasteel, or even other alloys such as duranium or impervium,” – it nodded knowingly at her mask – “is typically not an issue, and often preferred by those seeking cybernetic implants as enhancements rather than simple prosthetics. However, all these composites are prone to corrosion over time, and need to be changed out every few years. In the case of our patient here, the internal mechanisms were also mainly durasteel. This included the pipes, pumps and cannisters that replaced his lower digestive system. The connectors that attached directly from the severed organs to these cybernetic replacements were made of alum, which although is corrosion-resistant due to the aluminum component in the ore, is more suitable for crafting armor, not surgical implants. The connectors were never accepted by the individual’s tissues, which meant he had to be meticulous in his maintenance routine or risk infection. It was likely a highly uncomfortable existence. Fortunately, we were able to replace all these internal components with new ones made from our enhanced titanium alloy. He will really begin to feel the difference within four to six standard weeks, when the osseointegration will be complete.”

Ahsoka remained quiet, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t sure how long Maul had had these specific set of legs. When he had first reemerged during the Clone Wars, they were definitely different: longer and more crudely made. By the time she met him herself on Mandalore, however, he’d had these particular set of prosthetics, she was certain of it. She’d had to dodge enough kicks from him over the years to where she’d practically memorized their appearance. She had to admit ruefully that she’d never given their internal workings so much as a second thought, merely noticing their wear and tear as the years went on. To be fair to herself, it wasn’t as though she’d constantly been in contact with him during the time of the Empire’s rule. In all, she’d encountered him three times after the Siege: once during her early years aiding the Rebellion, nearly a decade after that on Malachor, and now, on Tatooine. Why hadn’t he upgraded his kriffing legs before‽ Hadn’t he run nearly the entire black market at one point? He’d had the funds. She frowned, wishing she hadn’t just learned of another extra layer of misery the Zabrak apparently lived with.

“Are these medical advancements… new?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “How recently have these options been available?” She hoped he’d had the opportunity for a long time and simply refused to take advantage of them due to some twisted Sith logic.

“The use of titanium has become accepted more widely in the medical field within the past eight years, give or take,” the GH replied. “These prosthetics are much older than that. Our team almost considered replacing the entire prosthesis with a new one – complete with synthflesh – but we figured that might be too discombobulating for the patient and would take a long time and physical therapy for him to get used to. Fortunately, we were able to find compatible parts and reconstruct everything around the older frame. We are quite satisfied with our work.” The droid beamed proudly at her.

The former Jedi nodded sullenly, turning her gaze back to Maul. She noticed her hand was still resting on his leg, and although she knew he couldn’t feel it, she drew her hand back, suddenly embarrassed.

“Is he awake?” she asked.

“Impossible to say,” the droid replied. “His vitals have not changed for hours, but that may be due to the effects of the newoongall toxin. My personal guess would be that he is not conscious. Most organics’ minds tend to drift when the body cannot respond. It is a natural coping mechanism.”

“Right,” the Togruta said with another nod. “In any case, would you be so kind as to retrieve a hard copy of his full medical file? I will require one to hand over to the New Republic.”

“Of course, gladly,” the GH-8 replied instantly, zooming towards the door. “I will fetch you a datapad containing the information at once.”

The moment the medical droid was out the door, Ahsoka leaned down towards the Zabrak. She was still not getting any indication from the bled kyber crystals that the Nightbrother was using them or trying to connect to them at all. “Hey, old man,” she said quietly, holding on to the safety rails of the capsule. This one was definitely a newer model than the one used to bring Maul in: bulkier, with more security features. It seemed the Rodians were taking his threat at least somewhat seriously. “Can you hear me?”

Of course, he didn’t answer, but Ahsoka continued, feeling the need to inform him of what was going on, even if he could do nothing about it. “I may have blown your cover with the Rodians,” she muttered, glancing quickly towards the door. “I think they’ve guessed who you are. I’m not sure what I’ll do if they try to keep us here by force but know that I’ll get us out of here. I’ll think of something.” Dwang, why was she trying to give him a pep-talk? Perhaps it was more for herself. “Hang in there, Gramps. And…” Looking down at his prone form, she noticed the vermillion scar upon his lower chest – an angry starburst disfiguring the tribal patterns of his torso. The bacta had allowed the flesh to heal, but the skin that grew over the gaping wound she’d given him was new and untainted by whatever ink he’d had previously. It was a striking reminder of what she’d done to him, and regardless of the circumstances that had led her to that moment, she felt a stirring of remorse. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so quietly the mask barely registered the sound and retransmitted it, albeit in monotone. “Perhaps you got what you deserved, but I’m sorry I had to be the one to dole it out. I’m sorry things escalated to this point. I’m sorry I ran into you, and I’m sorry I freaked out and shot you. You were going to kill me, weren’t you?” She paused, swallowing down the tightness in her throat. “I’m sorry… I didn’t even give you the chance to prove my instincts wrong.”

The doors to the room slid open just then, and the GH-8 droid floated in, a datapad in one of its three-fingered hands. After it passed the device over to her, Ahsoka asked, deciding to take a risk: “Listen, it’s imperative that I keep vigilance over this guy personally. I need to take him to my ship. Is there any way he can be released into my custody?”

She waited for the inevitable denial on the droid’s part, but instead, she was surprised when it replied, “That will not be an issue. I will only require you to electronically sign the release forms.”

“Really?” Ahsoka asked, surprised. She hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “There won’t… be any problems?”

“I see no reason why there would be,” the GH said. “You are the responsible party for the patient. In either case, we received official word just now that we are to assist you in whatever you need in the securing and transporting of your ward. I was just now about to show you the transmission I have been tasked with relaying to you, on behalf of Senator Dor Wieedo.”

With that, the automaton projected a three-dimensional hologram of the Rodian politician from a slit in its chest, in what was obviously a pre-recorded message.

“Agent Fulcrum,” the senator began, smoothing out the front of his lush robes. He seemed a bit nervous. “I am pleased to inform you that the Great Navik has decided to oblige your request of departing at once along with your quarry. After discussing the information you’ve provided us with our Internal Intelligence, our Grand Protector has concluded that it would be to our best interest – as well as the Republic’s, of course – if we not only allow you to depart with your prisoner at once but assist you in any way you deem necessary. We have reason to suspect that the individual in your custody is one who has caused the deaths of several of our Supreme Hunters in the past. If this is who we suspect him to be, we acknowledge that Rodia does not have the capacity to keep him contained. Frankly, we doubt if even the New Republic has the means to. We will see you off with a fully armed escort fleet for your own protection. We wish you safe travels, and although you are of course welcome here, we hope you never return with this criminal to our system ever again.” With those final words, the recording ended, and the hologram abruptly dissipated.

At first, the Togruta felt a wave of relieved disbelief wash over her, and she breathed deeply. She certainly hadn’t expected things to take that turn. She was almost grateful for how horrible a person Maul was, to where even the dreaded Navik of Chattza Clan wanted nothing to do with him. However, she had scarcely allowed herself to relax her shoulders a bit when she sensed a slight heat start up from her rear lek. The kyber crystals were finally stirring… did that mean Maul was awake after all? But no, this sensation was similar to the one she’d had when she had stood in Dor Wieedo’s office. The crystals seemed to be buzzing suspiciously, as in warning. But that couldn’t be, could it? Kyber crystals were alive, she knew, but not in the same manner as organic beings. They absorbed the world around them through their wielders and offered support when needed. This pair of gems had a true sentience of their own, capable of formulating concrete thoughts, or so it appeared, at least. They were telling her to beware. If it seems too good to be true, it likely is. Hm, there was that same sinister whisper in her head. She wondered if Maul heard them, too.

“If I may take the datapad back, please,” the GH-8 stated, oblivious to her unease. “I can pull up that release form so you can sign it now.”

Ahsoka nodded numbly, handing the device back over. In the span of a few minutes, the matter was over. Maul was officially back in her custody, no strings attached, no extra clauses. Now she was getting suspicious. There hadn’t been anything hidden in the release document; she’d taken the time to check. The Rodians really were relinquishing Maul over to her just like that. Were they truly that afraid of him?

“We at Emergency Services can offer you the temporary use of this capsule and one of our hover-ambulances in order to transport the patient back to your ship,” the droid informed her. “Unfortunately, we will be requiring the equipment back. Even if the New Republic were to offer to purchase the capsule as part of the treatment, we must politely refuse. Around the Outer Rim, these are difficult to come by.”

“I understand, and it won’t be a problem,” Ahsoka said. “My own shuttle has a med-bay area with the proper restraining implements. But yes, any help getting him onboard is appreciated.”

The GH floated over to the doors and opened them, signaling to the two guards posted outside. The large Rodians walked in stoically and took hold of the capsule, one on each side. They didn’t so much as look at Ahsoka before they closed the transparisteel lid with the push of a button and began to move it forward. The ex-Jedi walked closely behind the shuttle, and the medical droid hovered after them briefly, only for enough time to inform the Togruta: “I have already transmitted the order for an ambulance to transport you back to the main starport. We thank you for utilizing our facility and placing your trust in Emergency Services.” It bobbed politely in place before turning and zipping down the hallway, already in pursuit of its next task.

Ahsoka didn’t have the chance to reply as she strode to keep up with the retreating bounty hunters. As was promised, there was a medical repulsorcraft awaiting them just outside the building’s wide doors. After loading the capsule into the back of the transport, the two Rodian guards walked to the front of the vehicle and said something to whoever was driving, then slapped the front of the craft and walked away, back towards the Eanca Goa-Ato. Ahsoka didn’t bother to check the front cabin and climbed in through the back, wanting to avoid being separated from the Zabrak. She was pleasantly surprised to see Cebb Nereno inside already, adjusting the capsule and locking it into place.

“Cebb!” she exclaimed with a smile. She sat across from him, the med-capsule between them. With Maul secured, the young Rodian banged his fist against the window of the front cabin, signaling for the driver to start up the ambulance. He nodded curtly to Ahsoka and avoided eye contact, busying himself instead with the readouts from the pod. Whatever warm feelings had blossomed within the Togruta when she’d seen the reptilian medic quickly dissipated. Something was definitely amiss. She wanted to ask Cebb about it but figured by the way he moved in a nervous, jerky fashion that he was not at liberty to speak freely. Instead, she absentmindedly rubbed the front of her leather breastplate, seeking the comfort of the kyber crystals of her weapons. How she wished she could hold them firmly in her hands, listen to their gentle hum…!

The ride back to the starport wasn’t long, but in the tense silence, time seemed to slow down for the Togruta. She was beyond relieved when the hovercraft came to a stop and didn’t even wait for Cebb to get off before pushing the doors open and leaping out herself. The chauffer left the engine of the ambulance running and sped off as soon as both his companion and Cebb had disembarked and removed the medical capsule. Ahsoka noticed that all the Rodians seemed to be moving quicker, as though in a haste to return to their posts, and those hanging around the garage were suddenly busy getting far away from her and the hover-pod. Cebb was the only person she noticed who had no qualms in standing close to the encapsulated Zabrak, but he was definitely tense around her. He said not a word and grabbed the gurney by one of the handles and walked purposefully down the hallway, towards the larger landing dock, where Ahsoka could see her shuttle remained. The Rodian accompanying them reluctantly followed behind, keeping a good distance – more than an arm’s length – from Ahsoka and the pod. He gripped his blaster rifle tightly in his hands, and like most of the other bounty hunters she had run across, he had the safety off his weapon.

Once they reached her T-6, Cebb instantly boarded without stopping to ask her if that was alright. With a frown, Ahsoka followed, and the other Rodian soon after. The reptilian medic guided the capsule over to the med-bay table of her ship, and here he waited for his companion, lowering the transparisteel cover and removing the energy binders.

“I’ll need you to help me move the patient,” he instructed to the other Rodian, and Ahsoka was surprised and slightly impressed at the sudden authority in his tone. He was no longer stuttering, and his movements were sure and precise as he reached over to Maul’s wrists and undid the stun cuffs keeping him secured to the capsule.

The Rodian bounty hunter moved instinctively closer to Ahsoka, as though wanting to hide behind her frame. His yellowish green mottled skin paled a bit, making his scales stand out more. He was terrified. The Togruta didn’t need to be attuned with the Force to notice that. The bounty hunter croaked out something in Rodese, to which Cebb’s antennae quivered irately.

“He can’t move,” he snapped in reply, moving to the head of the pod. “Look, I’ll take his upper half, and you can have the legs. Those are still shackled, okay? And I’ll put the binders on him as soon as he’s on the table.”

Ahsoka stepped forward, placing a hand on the side of the capsule. “I can help you move him,” she offered earnestly. She knew Maul was heavy, but even without augmenting her body’s limits using the Force, she was strong and could manage lifting the Zabrak if she had help.

“Thank you, Agent Fulcrum, but my partner here is capable. Put your gun down, vuth, and help me already.”

The bounty hunter twitched his snout before holstering his blaster to his side and stepping up to the foot of the med-capsule. On Cebb’s count, the pair lifted Maul up and heaved him onto the metal table of the shuttle. Vuth instantly released the Dathomirian’s legs and took hold of his blaster again, aiming it directly at Maul and not lowering it until Cebb had reapplied the stun cuffs and began to fasten him down using the available straps.

“These are not as good as energy binders, are you sure they will hold?” he asked the Togruta, finally addressing her. He still avoided eye contact with her, she noticed.

“I can deal with the old man if he tries to get loose,” Ahsoka replied. “Have you forgotten the state I brought him in?”

This brought a small, amused hoot from the Rodian medic, which made Ahsoka feel better. She didn’t want her last interactions with Cebb to be hostile or tense.

“Hey, Apabo,” Cebb told the bounty hunter. “We’re about done here. You can return to your post and take the capsule with you. Tell Master Crupp the patient has been successfully loaded back onto Agent Fulcrum’s ship. I’m just going to do a final wellness check on this guy before she clears out.”

The bounty hunter grunted but did not argue, rapidly turning and walking back down the boarding ramp, dragging the floating pod behind him.

“Apabo?” Ahsoka asked. “I thought his name was Vuth.”

Cebb Nereno hooted and whistled, giddy with himself. “Ah, no, no…” he explained, his eyes bright. “Vuth means ‘coward’ in our mother-tongue.”

The Togruta grinned behind her mask. The kid would be alright once she was gone, she was relieved to discover. Her presence there – and Maul’s – seemed to have served for him to grow something resembling a backbone. She was glad. Before she could tell him as much, however, Cebb had brought his gauntlet up to his face and muttered into his bracer computer: “Begin scheduled system update now. Clearance code boch-inet-tuv-doh.”

The datapad on his arm lit up, and a feminine voice replied, “Code accepted. Initiating system updates. Please note: all functions will be down while the process takes place. Please do not reboot until the procedure is complete.” With that, the screen went black. As soon as his gauntlet was dormant, Cebb walked over to the former Jedi and grabbed her by the arm – hard.

“I don’t have much time,” he whispered, his tone urgent. “Maybe a few minutes at best, before the update completes. If I don’t turn my bracer-com on after that, higher command will get suspicious.”

Ahsoka nodded, a knot of apprehension forming in her gut. She knew something had been odd about the young medic’s shift in attitude.

“The RHF is going to offer you an escort out of Tyrius,” Cebb said, his eyes darting towards the boarding ramp nervously. “Do not take it! Navik has ordered the Fleet to attack your ship before you get to the Turnaround. They want your guy. Whoever he is, Wieedo’s scared of him. Navik is too, I think, but he thinks he can make a profit while getting him out of here anyway. Your ward is wanted by the Black Sun, the Pikes and the Hutts. But you knew this, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t aware of the Hutts taking an interest in him,” Ahsoka said, “but I suspected he’d be wanted by the underground. I did tell you he was dangerous.”

“Dangerous and valuable,” Cebb corrected. “The plan is to ambush you as you’re getting beyond Taoska, where they’ll force you to enter the planet’s orbit before shooting you down. If things go as planned, Crupp and the RHF will pick your man out of the wreckage and make sure you don’t come out of it. Even if you survive, the blizzards will bury your vessel in several feet of ice in less than a standard day. The miners there won’t help you if they even notice. They’re too afraid of what Navik will do to their clans. And, well, if you both die in the crash, no scales off anyone’s back. The New Republic already deposited the funds for your ward’s medical treatment in Rodia’s account with the Banking Clan. Navik will probably just have Wieedo worm his way through Senate hearings in order to avoid sanctions if they arise. I know I shouldn’t be aware of any of this, but… I listened in on Crupp’s transmissions.”

“How?”

“I, um…” here he was beginning to act a bit bashful again, as though reluctant to admit a secret, “I hacked into his bracer-com once when he had me clean his armor. It wasn’t too hard; guy’s an absolute koochu. I still make a habit out of it, tapping into his communications through my own gear. I mean, not too often! But by the way he and Wieedo were acting since they heard the New Republic was sending an emissary over, I knew it’d be important.”

“I see,” Ahsoka said with a nod, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Still, I have little choice but to accept your government’s offer, though, don’t I? The Rodian Home Fleet monitors all outgoing vessels from Tyrius. I’d be breaking Rodian law if I forgo the escort, and then Crupp will have an excuse to blast me out of the sky before I ever leave orbit.”

“Well, they weren’t expecting you when you arrived,” Cebb offered. “I mean, they got the call from the New Republic, sure, but if they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have known you were here. How did you get here? You didn’t take the regular hyperspace lanes, did you?”

“No, I took uncharted space. It was faster,” the Togruta explained. “It meant I had to maneuver around the dump site, but –”

“Wait, you came in through the Scrapyard‽” Cebb exclaimed. “You’re insane! It’s no wonder the RHF didn’t trace your ship sooner!” Taking hold of her shoulders and shaking her gently, he demanded, “Do you think you can do that again? You may just be able to best them that way if you can manage it a second time. Honestly, it’s the only way I see for you to make it out of here alive.” He looked up at her with large blue eyes, anxiety writ all over his face. His hands on her shoulders were trembling.

Behind her mask, Ahsoka’s eyes softened. Her heart went out to the kid, for she knew the extreme amount of courage he’d had to muster up to bring himself to notify her. If he were caught, it could mean death for him, or a lifetime of forced labor in the icy mines of Taoska, or worse: sent to live on one of the moons around Pirdia or Toosma and made to travel to the gas giants in order to extract the vaporized ores found there. She had learned of the horrors of that life, met many Rodians over the years who had family members die painfully due to exposure to the fumes. She took his hands from her shoulders and squeezed them gently.

“Come with me,” she urged.

The medic stepped back, shaking his head. “I can’t desert my family. What will become of them when Crupp finds out I deserted illegally? We’re a small clan. We have no power or influence.”

The Togruta swallowed a lump in her throat, deeply moved. Nodding in understanding, she crossed her arms across her chest and placed her hands upon her own shoulders, bowing her head deeply in the Rodian salute. “Cebb Nereno, I thank you,” she said solemnly.

Cebb tut-tutted under his breath, waving his long-fingered hands in front of his chest rapidly. “No, you don’t need to…” he said quickly. “I’m not a hero in all this, I’m no one special. In fact, I’m terrified. But, b-but…” he blinked a few times, looking down at his hands. “Abe, he was… he would’ve… he would have helped you. I know it.”

Just then, his gauntlet chimed, and the feminine voice rang out: “System update complete. Please restart your equipment’s computer.” Cebb involuntarily yelped upon hearing the sound, and he rapidly fumbled with the touchscreen.

“I… I need to get going,” he said nervously. “Please consider what I said. Good luck.” He glanced over down at the bound Zabrak. “T-to both of you. I know you told me he’s the worst, but if he makes Navik tremble half as much as Crupp makes me, well, he’s alright as far as I’m concerned.”

Without giving Ahsoka an opportunity to answer, he hurried away towards the boarding ramp and was soon gone. The former Jedi walked into the cockpit and looked out the viewing window, only managing to catch sight of Cebb’s retreating figure as he sprinted from the dock back towards the smaller garage. She truly hoped the kid found his courage. “Goodbye, Cebb Nereno,” she whispered. “May the Force be with you.”

Chapter Text

There was simply no way, the Togruta decided, that she would try to contact Mon Mothma now. If Cebb had been so nervous about Navik’s government spying on him through his bracer computer, there was no reason she shouldn’t suspect they had at least tried to hack into her shuttle’s communications systems, maybe planted a bug that could trace her transmissions. Seeing as how there was no time for her to do a thorough check, it was best to instead forgo any contact through her Fulcrum network. Although all systems on her T-6 were encrypted, she would rather not take the risk. Perhaps she could ask Dor Wieedo to relay a message instead, as she was sure he was going to prepare one for the NRC anyway. Glancing around the control room, she noticed her blaster – the same one that had been confiscated by Phex Crupp hours earlier – had been returned, placed discreetly on the captain’s chair. With a smirk, Ahsoka picked up the weapon. Looking over it quickly, she determined it had not been tampered with, and holstered it.

She then flipped on the shuttle’s computer mainframe and had it run a quick systems diagnostic. While that got started, she returned to the maintenance pit where she had left the other weapons in the cleansing tank. The chem-rinse had completed long ago, and although the Rodians had very obviously looked inside the drained compartment (how else had Dor Wieedo known about her having a gaffi stick aboard?), they hadn’t taken anything. Now Ahsoka retrieved her vibroblade from inside the tank and put it in one of the pouches on her belt. All her equipment was almost where it should be, save for her lightsabers, of course. These she decided to keep tucked under her leather breastplate for the time being. She didn’t feel quite confident in removing them out into the open until she was clear of the Tyrius system, or at the very least, offworld. The same went for Maul’s broken weapon. She had almost become accustomed to the extra weight tugging on the back of her head, although she couldn’t get used to the malevolent presence which she could sense residing within them.

The Togruta walked over to the metal slab where Maul lay and double-checked Cebb’s handiwork at securing down the Nightbrother. She found it eerie at how still the Zabrak was. Although he was no longer covered in blood with his chest ripped open, now more than ever, he looked like a corpse. He was unnaturally still. His breath no longer rattled and was in fact barely noticeable: an effect she understood was a result of the newoongall toxin still coursing through his system. The GH-8 medical droid had assured her that he was most likely unconscious. She hoped so, not wanting to imagine what it must feel like to be trapped inside an unresponsive body. The thought made her take pause, and she frowned, remembering how she had instructed the droids to subject him to another dose of the venom if he began to gain mobility. The startled, uneasy glance she’d gotten from Cebb began to make more sense to her now as she observed the Dathomirian. To think that Maul’s body couldn’t even react normally to external stimuli: his heart rate, unable to accelerate in fear or pound in anger, unable to twitch or cringe or steel himself against harm or pain… “It’s really awful stuff,” Cebb had told her back at Emergency Services. The Rodian had pointed out that no one deserved being under its effects, and she could see why. Ahsoka stood by her decisions, feeling as though she’d had little alternative in the matter, but she could understand how her actions had come across as cruel. They were. She resented the Nightbrother for driving her to act in a way so unlike herself, resented her own person for being able to readily do so. She felt as though, once again, as had happened on Malachor, she was playing into his designs, acting according to his twisted sense of logic rather than her own rationale. She really, truly disliked him.

And yet… she also couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Maul had remained awake for all the hours since she’d wounded him, and she was sure he must’ve been exhausted both physically and mentally, nearly spent, by the time he was taken into surgery. He likely was sleeping now, as the GH had suggested. After everything he’d endured, he deserved a good rest. Frustrated, Ahsoka rolled her eyes and shook her head, hands on her hips. Was she commending him now? It would be better if she just walked away, she decided. Physically stepping away from the med-bay was easy. Putting an emotional distance between herself and the Nightbrother… was proving trickier than she’d anticipated. Skrog, why did she care?

While the systems check ran its course, Ahsoka decided to do a walk-through of her vessel, making sure to verify that the Rodians didn’t tamper with anything vital to her ship’s function. If their plan all long was to sabotage her departure, they may have done something to the T-6 that would hinder its maneuverability. She walked down the short hallway, beginning her check from the back of the shuttle. She started with the main circuit room at the far end. Entering, she removed the main wall covering which concealed the wiring that went into the mainframe. Automatically, the lenses in her mask adjusted their focus in order to aid her vision in seeing the delicate connections better. Nothing seemed out of place. It didn’t even appear as though the reptilian sentients had entered this section of the ship at all. Running her gloved fingers along all the main wires and cables, she muttered, “What do you think? Anything suspicious here setting you off?”

Who had she directed the question at? Almost immediately she realized she had been talking to the bled kyber crystals in her head tail sleeve. That was odd. She rarely spoke to the crystals in her own weapons, and when she connected with them, it was always in meditation. Perhaps she had been expecting these to activate as they had done just moments ago, giving her advice in a malevolent whisper. However, now the broken saberstaff hilt simply felt like dead weight against her lek. Ahsoka put everything back and left the room.

Afterward, she went across the hall into the main cargo area of her ship. T-6 shuttles were designed to transport people, not merchandise, but like with the refresher, the Togruta had made adjustments to the ship’s design. What had originally been meant as a small recreation room of sorts, Ahsoka had cleared out: stripping it of all furniture and even the decorative wall panels. She had replaced the ambient lighting with stronger fluorescents that cast everything into sharper focus, with stark shadows. The carpeting, too, she had gotten rid of, leaving the metal floor exposed. It was much easier to slide large crates in and out of the room this way, as well as to keep clean. At the far end, along the wall, there was a large freezer in case she needed to transport medical items in bulk or anything else that required cold storage.

She now made a quick sweep of the room: it was largely empty at the moment, as she had given over half of her supplies and foodstuffs to Sabine when they’d parted ways, knowing the Mandalorian would be travelling in far more desolate sectors of space than where she had been heading to at the time. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed here either, so Ahsoka moved on to the small refresher next door, and following that, another smaller cargo room across the hall from that. Walking around the shuttle this way made her realize how lonely an existence she was leading now that Sabine was gone. Although the T-6 was a small vessel, it was clearly not designed to carry only one individual. In fact, she had become quite familiar with these types of ships during the Clone Wars, as it had been a favorite of the Jedi Council and the Galactic Senate when sent on diplomatic missions. Ahsoka felt like a ghost haunting her small ship, drifting from one unused room to another, remembering past voyages on crafts identical to this one, when her life had been happier and less complicated. Yes, in spite of the horrors of war. Even on her most recent trips with Sabine, the mood had been overall pleasant. Despite the seriousness of their mission together, the two got along well, and the young Mandalorian often found ways to make the Togruta laugh.

There was none of that lighthearted, hopeful ambience in the shuttle now. The bleak situation and her new passenger were a stark reminder of what she no longer had. The Jedi had taught her not to dwell on such things, and for the most part, Ahsoka never gave much thought to her solitude. It was a simple fact of life she had accepted long ago, knowing that she would never have a true place where she belonged, or a group to belong to anymore. Those she had considered family were long dead, and the structure where they had all dwelled together at one point had been grotesquely transformed into an unrecognizable monolith of evil long before it had begun to crumble. The only person she truly had left was Rex, but after her return from the spiritual plane of the Force known as the World Between Worlds, she had seldom seen him, and every time she had, he appeared far more aged than before. It wouldn’t be long before she had no one left at all. That had been part of the reason she was so eager to find Ezra Bridger: she didn’t want the young man to live a seemingly empty existence, stripped of those who cared for him and valued his company. She had accepted her own fate long ago. That didn’t mean others had to share it.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she focused on the task before her. All too soon, she had run the entirety of the ship, and was back in the cockpit. She hadn’t spent much time in the med bay and maintenance pit area of the shuttle, not wanting to linger around Maul. She did thoroughly check the metal table he was strapped to, making sure to look inside all the bottom compartments and the cabinets beside it to ensure the Rodians didn’t hide a tracer or recorder in there somewhere. She had found none, of course. When she thought about it, she supposed she should’ve known. Cebb had been nervous about speaking to her only when his own equipment was still functional. He had probably not deemed it likely that the Goa-Ato had left recording devices onboard.

Now back in the control room, she looked over the readings on the dashboard. The results from the diagnostic check were complete, and surprisingly, nothing was amiss. Now that she knew what the Rodian’s plans were, it made sense that they wouldn’t have bugged her ship. What was the point if they never really intended to let her leave their system? However, they also hadn’t messed with her shields or control systems, as far as she could tell. In fact, they had refueled all three main engines and the hyperdrive with quality fuel. Navik must have full confidence in the Rodian Home Fleet’s ability in dogfighting if he was allowing her such an advantage. Along with his two lackeys, Crupp and Wieedo, it was no wonder he had ruled the entire Tyrius system with an iron fist since soon after Palpatine destroyed the Republic. She had yet to meet him in person, but already, she could tell he was quite the political mastermind. The brazen way in which he had his top military commander treat a New Republic emissary with contempt while simultaneously extending words and gestures of goodwill through the senator was a cunning double-handed ploy that would befuddle most others. Well, two could play at that game, she supposed, although she was getting tired fast of dealing with conniving assholes and their little manipulation tactics. She could barely handle one, and he was currently strapped down and blissfully unresponsive in her medical bay. There was no going around it, though. With a frown, Ahsoka sat down in the captain’s chair and opened the shuttle’s transmitter, sending a signal via the channel she had previously used to communicate with the RHF.

“State your business,” came the gruff voice of the Goa-Ato leader almost instantly. He didn’t sound pleased to hear her.

“Master Crupp,” Ahsoka began, trying to make her voice sound as pleasant as possible. It was only after she heard herself speaking that she realized it didn’t matter, as her mask’s voice distorter kicked in and warped her pitch into its usual androgynous monotone. That was just as well, she figured. It saved her at least some of the trouble of having to pretend she respected any of the leadership on this planet. Shrugging to herself, the Togruta continued. “I need to speak to Senator Wieedo. Can you patch me through?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Ahsoka was sure Phex Crupp was purposefully making her wait, if he was as petty and vindictive as he had proven himself to be thus far. Finally, his voice came back over the transmitter, a curt: “Stand by.”

More dead air was followed eventually by the connection signal, and a holo of the Rodian politician appeared from the projector embedded in the dashboard.

“Ah, Agent Fulcrum,” Dor Wieedo began. Ahsoka could see, even through the slight distortions of the hologram that the senator was nervous. “How may I be of assistance?”

“I wanted to notify you personally that I have my captive back onboard and secured.”

“Yes, I was told by members of the Goa-Ato. Is that all?” His frayed nerves were making his friendly façade slip, showing his impatience. The Togruta rather enjoyed it, for it was, at the very least, the most genuine she had seen the Rodian up to that point.

“No,” she said. “I also wanted to reply to your offer from earlier. The one you sent through holo,” she specified upon seeing his slightly quizzical look. “I appreciate the gesture, but there is really no need for the Rodian government to provide an escort to the Core. Truth be told, I am trying to maintain a discreet profile while travelling. I’m sure you’ll understand why.”

“I… do,” Dor Wieedo said hesitantly. He brought a hand up to his snout, about to rub at it uneasily, but caught himself and instead stroked his jawline slowly, as though in deep thought. “However, we would not be comfortable if you were to depart with your prisoner with virtually no protection. At the very least, allow us to send a small fleet along with you. Three ships at most, small vessels, all of them.”

“I must insist upon travelling alone,” Ahsoka replied. “The secrecy of my mission is of utmost importance. Believe me that I am capable of handling the criminal.”

“That may be,” the reptilian assented, “however, for the safety of our own people, the Rodian Home Fleet must accompany you, even if only up to the edge of our system, where our jurisdiction ends. These are the laws of our people. As you were the one seeking our aid, it would be most discourteous to then forgo our diplomatic regulations.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka nodded. “That is perfectly reasonable. All I ask is that your escort go no further once I enter the main hyperspace lanes. It’s important that it appear as though my vessel is just another in the many traversing the Turnaround.”

“Very well,” Dor Wieedo agreed, the Togruta noticing how quick he was to acquiesce, his shoulders instantly relaxing the moment she said she would allow the Fleet’s escort within Tyrius. Cebb was right: they never meant to allow her to leave their solar system. “It saddens and worries me immensely, knowing the amount of danger you will be in,” the senator said, feigning worry. “However, we respect your decision, and know you are probably following higher orders.”

“I’m glad we have reached a mutual understanding, and I once again want to extend my thanks on behalf of the Republic and Chancellor Mothma. Speaking of which, as I must depart in as much secrecy as possible, I would like to ask for one final favor.”

“Yes, we are at your disposal,” the Rodian said quickly, but Ahsoka could tell he was a bit apprehensive.

“I am certain you plan to notify the New Republic of the success of the procedure. Can I trouble you with also letting them know of my departure? I have decided not to contact the NRC until I am closer to the Core, and there is less possibility of my communications being intercepted by pirates.”

At this, Dor Wieedo hooted involuntarily, clearly pleased. The politician forced his snout into that little smile Ahsoka had grown to detest so much in the short time she’d interacted with him. She understood that forgoing direct communication with the New Republic better suited Navik’s purposes. If things went wrong, if she were unable to avoid a shootout with the RHF and she failed to escape Tyrius, the Rodians wouldn’t have to worry immediately about repercussions with the New Republic. It would be easier for them to deflect suspicion because Mon Mothma wouldn’t have a direct transmission from Ahsoka with a timestamp to prove when she’d departed. The former Jedi knew this, could understand the almost eager expression on the Rodian senator now as she half-listened to his exuberant assurances that it would be so, yes of course, no need to worry. Still, it was a risk she would have to take in order to safeguard the Fulcrum Network, at least until she had ample time to go over all her encryptions for evidence of tampering.

“When is it that you will be departing?” Dor Wieedo asked, touching the tips of his suctioned digits together.

“As soon as your escort fleet is ready,” Ahsoka replied. “I am carrying enough provisions for my trip, and as I noticed that my ship has been fully refueled – for which I am grateful – I do not foresee needing to stop anywhere along the way. It is a shame I was not able to enjoy the full Rodian experience over at Equator City, but I must see to my priorities, and I’m sure your government wants my prisoner as far from Tyrius as soon as possible.”

“Ah, yes, yes,” the Rodian nodded. “Perhaps another time. As I mentioned before, you are of course welcome to return whenever you’d like. I will show you around our entertainment venues personally.”

“Very much obliged, Senator,” the Togruta responded. She sneered broadly, knowing he couldn’t see her expression.

“I will direct Master Crupp to relay you the coordinates of departure that the escort will utilize, so things will go smoothly. When his group is ready, they will contact you.”

“Oh? Will Master Crupp be accompanying me as well? I am honored.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m afraid not, as his skills are needed here. You were not exposed to the internal strife that is plaguing our world during your stay but believe me: we are in a crisis. If our top security enforcement officer were to go offworld during such a strenuous time, the terrorist attacks might get out of control.” Dor Wieedo ran a hand over the front of his robes, which Ahsoka took to mean he was about done with their conversation. As she predicted, this was quickly followed by the politician offering her the Rodian salute once more. “You will be notified promptly,” he said, bowing his head, “and I will contact Velus directly as soon as the Home Fleet notifies me that the escort was a success.”

“Thank you, Senator,” Ahsoka said, returning the gesture with the utmost disdain. “For everything.” She added that last bit in her most sarcastic tone, but of course, this was not relayed by the mask. Before any continued hypocritic niceties could continue, she pressed the button on her dashboard that shut off the transmission. Ugh, she felt in need of another good shower. This venture was starting to grate on her very last nerve.

Unfortunately, there would be no time for showers just yet. If the Rodians were planning to ambush her, they were likely to set their plan in motion sooner rather than later, before they thought suspicions could arise. Now that Wieedo knew she would not be contacting the New Republic herself, there was less of a reason for them to delay. Ahsoka was sure part of any hold-ups would have resulted from the senator trying to formulate a ruse to provide the Chancellor for when Mon Mothma began to ask questions about the Togruta’s whereabouts. Ahsoka may as well get ready to take off at a moment’s notice. With a frustrated huff, she strapped herself into the captain’s chair and began to prep her systems.

She had scarcely done so when a transmission was sent over. This was not an audio or holographic message: merely coordinates. Plugging them into her navigational computer, Ahsoka saw they showed the point of departure from Rodia and towards the edges of the Tyrius system. As Cebb had warned her, the route ended just before reaching the final planet in orbit: Taoska. This was the ice ball where the Rodian Home Fleet planned to force her to crash-land. Just beyond that was the junction into Mumble’s Turnaround, no floating debris heap in the way. The “Scrapyard” of Tyrius – as the Rodian medic had called it – was in another sector of the heliocentric cluster, the one closer to Tatoo. According to her atlas, the Turnaround would take her away from this neighboring system and instead towards Savareen, where, just before reaching that system, would intersect with the Corellian Run, which she could then take towards the Core.

Of course, the Rodians never planned for her to make it into the hyperspace lanes. Ahsoka would have to find a way to deviate off course mid-jump. This would be tricky, and taxing on her shuttle’s engines. Once coordinates were set into the navicomp and lightspeed travel was underway, it was dangerous to abruptly cancel the route and pull out of hyperspace. It interrupted the calculations carefully selected by the artificial intelligence in the vessel’s system and could force the engines to overheat from the strain of suddenly changing speed at an unforeseen time. The Togruta couldn’t see a way around it, however. She took some time to study the IGA on her dashboard carefully, trying to decide when the perfect time would be for her to attempt this reckless maneuver. She reached the conclusion that she should do so in the beginning, soon after she and the Fleet made the jump from Rodia. She would have only a few seconds to pull her craft out of lightspeed and reroute her navigation to make a deviating jump back towards the Scrapyard. She hadn’t planned to return the way she had come, but Cebb was right: this was the best way to avoid direct conflict with the Rodians. She’d end up back in Tatoo, but from there, she wouldn’t have to enter the actual system, rather go around their floating debris field and jump on the Turnaround. She knew she would be on her way to Ryloth before the Rodians truly realized what had happened. If things went as planned, of course. She hoped her engines would hold.

Within the following half hour, she was contacted by the RHF with more precise instructions on their departure, including the exact time and sector in space above Rodia she should await the escort. When all was ready, she received official clearance and started up her engines.

She was joined in space by three SFS Light Patrol Ships: smaller than normal vessels of its kind but shielded and heavily armed. Ahsoka had a working knowledge of them, as she’d stolen quite a few from the Empire to later be repurposed for use by the Rebellion. She had managed it only by working with a team, of course, since the ships required at least three people to operate, and twice that if they wanted to use the cannons. Kallus had been the one who taught her the complicated workings of their controls: having been a part of the Imperial ranks for so long, the man had gained an extensive knowledge of various spacecraft utilized by the Empire. Once the signal was given to all ships, they entered hyperspace one after the other in rapid succession, Ahsoka’s T-6 shuttle entering hyperspace second-to-the-last.

Ahsoka was tense, counting the seconds in her mind to allow enough distance to go by before activating the manual override. Alarms rang as she pulled back the deceleration lever and her ship dropped back into realspace. She ended up just outside of the gravitational well of Pirdia and its eleven moons. The Togruta barely allowed herself a sigh of relief before she was entering her new coordinates into the navicomputer. Her dashboard showed warning messages: her drive was dangerously close to overheating and could malfunction if she attempted the same maneuver again. As it were, entering hyperspace once more could drain her system of hypermatter particles and cause the ship to rip itself apart. Ahsoka ignored the flashing statement for now and made the next jump. She had to trust that the full fuel tanks would suffice, seeing as how it was a relatively small jump to get to the outskirts of Tyrius. Afterwards, the time it would take her to navigate the Scrapyard would be plenty for her warp drive to cool down before heading back to Tatoo.

Once her T-6 was on its way and she had silenced the alarms, Ahsoka finally allowed herself to slump back in her seat. She now had about an hour and a half before she made it back to the edges of the Tyrius system and would have to maneuver her way around the Rodians’ dump site. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but at the very least, it seemed the worst part of her entire ordeal with Maul was now behind her.

Ahsoka took a moment to just sit in the silence of the shuttle. Although she had slept well before arriving at Rodia, she realized she was feeling exhausted once more. Possibly due to the heightened state of stress she had constantly been in since encountering the Nightbrother, and also likely to do with the waves of dark energy quietly seeping out of his broken weapon. She considered removing the hilt pieces from beneath her lek, but something was warning her against it. In any case, she had decided back on Rodia that she would keep Maul’s weapon hidden – as well as her own sabers – until she was back on route and out of the Tyrius system. It wouldn’t be much longer, she assured herself.

Although she was tired, she was much too wound up to rest, so instead Ahsoka headed back to the refresher. She washed her face with cold water to help keep her alert. She also used the vacc tube, for although she hadn’t eaten – she couldn’t remember since when, now that she thought on it – her bladder felt about ready to burst. Once she had relieved herself and washed her hands, she headed back to the cockpit. On her way, she paused by the med-bay, noticing the old leather tarp with which she’d originally wrapped Maul still crumpled on the floor beside the table. She bent over to pick it up and shake it out, and as she did, her travelling cloak tumbled out, stained with blood, and crusted over with sand. The Togruta picked this up as well and took both pieces of material over to the maintenance pit. The same vat she used to cleanse her equipment could be utilized to wash clothes and linens, as it had settings that allowed for a range of uses. She seriously doubted that the bloodstains would come out fully, but she stuffed the two items inside anyway, tapping instructions onto the screen of the cleansing tank: maximum detergent concentration, water pressure and temperature, and adding a sonic after the spin cycle for good measure. Before she activated the machine, she went back to the refresher and grabbed her dirty clothes from the hamper built into the wall, then returned to the maintenance pit and added those in, too.

After this, she busied herself with cleaning around the shuttle. There wasn’t really much to pick up, but the sands of Tatooine were seemingly everywhere, and swabbing the metal floor by hand gave her something to do for a while. Once she was done, she looked around with satisfaction… until her gaze settled back on the unconscious Zabrak. She stared at him for a moment, the realization that he was technically naked dawning on her, making her lekku flush.

Of course the droids at Emergency Services hadn’t bothered returning his soiled clothes: like her own cloak, they were probably ruined beyond use. They’d likely tossed his garments in an incinerator, which she should have done with hers instead of attempting to wash them. And, well, they probably didn’t think he needed pants, seeing as how his bottom half was completely cybernetic. She didn’t know how Maul felt regarding clothing, but she had always seen him wearing some type of covering on his legs. Did he perhaps not like to think about his prosthetics? Could be. She wondered if he was cold, although the temperature on her ship was kept at a standard setting comfortable for most sentients. She knew she would certainly feel awkward if she were laying on metal with nothing to cover her bare skin. Remembering that he couldn’t move to signal his discomfort, she decided to err on the side of caution and headed towards the smaller of the two cargo rooms, on the first door of the hallway, to her left.

This was a small room, smaller than her quarters, even, which were themselves more compact than the standard size. She mainly used it to store items and foodstuffs she used more often, so she wouldn’t have to go all the way to the larger storage in the back and sort through crates. She now took two clean blankets made of soft, warm Grov wool from one of the shelves and returned to the med-bay. One she kept folded and tucked it under Maul’s head, being mindful of his horns, as she had back on Tatooine. This would have to do, she told herself, as she had no extra pillows. The other she extended over him, making sure to tuck the edges in around his sides. She even covered his legs, although she knew that was rather pointless.

“There you go, Gramps,” she said, patting him on the shoulder lightly. Just because he was her prisoner and she was going to hand him over to authorities whom she was certain would incarcerate him, didn’t mean she had to be heartless about it. Remembering what fate awaited him only reminded her of what she’d told him back on Tatooine: that she wished he would get locked away somewhere dank. Had that really only been less than two standard days ago? And now she was tucking him in, like she would a creche youngling. Well, it was no wonder he thought he could yet win their little battle of wits. If things were the other way around, he would have allowed her no comfort of any kind. No matter. She was not about to compromise her ethics any more than she’d already done.

The rest of the time of the jump, Ahsoka spent studying the Galactic Atlas on her dash. She wanted to make sure she was as prepared as possible for the remaining leg of her trip. She looked over the best routes, weighing whether to choose secrecy over speed, knowing the longer she kept the Dathomirian, the higher the risk of him managing to get loose. However, once the Rodians discovered that she hadn’t fallen for their ruse and got away, they might send bounty hunters after her, along the most likely travelled routes. She hadn’t wanted to, but perhaps she would have to make a stop at Ryloth in order to send a transmission over to the Chancellor. It was either that, or stop again at Tatooine, which for her was absolutely not an option. If Maul escaped there, he would disappear into the desert sands, she was sure of it.

All too soon, the shuttle’s systems bleeped the familiar warning: she was about to exit hyperspace. Ahsoka buckled herself in and rolled her shoulders, preparing herself for the inevitable navigational hell that was the Tyrius Scrapyard. At that precise moment, the T-6 dropped into realspace.

She felt the jolt of searing heat from the bled kyber crystals at her back before her electronic sensors detected the Rodian vessels.

There were five in total: four of the Light Patrol Ships and a Mynock-class assault boat. This last one, Ahsoka was only vaguely familiar with, as these vessels were a relatively new creation by the Corellians. The spacecraft were scattered about somewhat, using the floating debris as partial camouflage. It would have worked: had she not been alerted to their presence by the angry pang of the carmine gems. It was clear by their positions that the Rodians did not know the exact coordinates from which she would appear, but they were nonetheless ready. The instant Ahsoka felt the kyber crystals awaken, she instinctively activated her front deflector shields and gunned the engines, speeding towards the informal blockade. “The first to spot the enemy almost always wins, Snips,” Anakin would often tell her right before engaging in an aerial combat campaign. “If the enemy takes you by surprise, it’s over. Stay alert.”

Well, the Rodians had certainly caught her off-guard this time. She didn’t give herself the time to question how. All that mattered was that they had prepared for her ploy, so she was immediately at a disadvantage: they were awaiting her, while she had not expected them. Her only chance of escape was to close the distance between her and the ships at high speed, giving the bounty hunters less time to react and target her shuttle. She was keenly aware that her T-6 was an unarmed transport, thus she had no means of counterattack once the RHF opened fire. She needed to get beyond them and into the debris field so she could use the floating junk as a buffer against their cannon fire.

As the shuttle charged towards the hovering junkyard, one of the LPSes began to shoot. They had sighted her, but as she was speeding so quickly towards them, their lasers overshot her by tens, if not over a hundred, meters. She flew straight towards the center of their informal formation: the clunky Corellian assault boat. When she was close enough to see the startled faces of the bounty hunters within through the viewing window – their expressions quickly changing to horror as they thought she was attempting to crash into them suicidally – Ahsoka sent the shuttle into a barrel roll, using a particularly large cluster of debris as a visual reference point, seeing as how there was no horizon line to guide her out in space. Mere meters from impact, she pulled up by yanking the navigation stick hard to the right. The wings of her shuttle, now turned horizontally, went over the top of the assault boat easily and she was allowed a few seconds of respite from the other ships shooting, lest they risk hitting their own. She climbed quickly as the shuttle continued to rotate onto its side, having rolled 90 degrees by the time she was at the highest point above the assault boat. Then came the tricky part of dropping back down while her craft spun, completing the 360° rotation before leveling out. She only just managed it as she plunged into the artificial asteroid belt, pieces of scrapped junk ramming into the body and wings of her shuttle. Ahsoka frowned as the entire vessel shuddered from the impacts. She would have to make a note to install a concussion shield on this thing… if she managed to salvage the spacecraft in one piece. How her master had managed such aerial feats with ease was beyond her. In fact, she knew Anakin would have likely added a couple of more maneuvers – probably a loop or at the very least twirling the ship a few more times – for good measure (and also because he had thought reckless flying was fun). He would have pulled it all off without touching any of the debris, but she had never reached that level of aviation proficiency. She was nowhere near as good a pilot as Anakin Skywalker or Plo Koon. Not to mention that T-6s were not meant for space warfare.

Ahsoka nonetheless did her best, weaving in and out from among the floating rubble. It only took the RHF a few seconds to organize and begin pursuit. The LPSes were fast, but her shuttle was faster by design. She noticed the Mynock -class falling even further behind still, having a bit more trouble than even she was having at maneuvering around the debris field. However, she also noticed that its heavy build also meant that it could risk getting hit by objects without taking on much damage. She, on the other hand, had to err on the side of caution as she flew. She had been on one too many crashes involving these shuttles and knew their vulnerabilities, and mainly worried a stray impact could damage the gyrostabilizing system.

Her slower flying meant the enemy kept closing the distance between them. They had resumed firing at her, which was to be expected. As she had hoped, their blasts hit floating junk that was in the way, for the most part. Once she was ahead of them, Ahsoka had switched most of the power to her rear deflector shields, knowing they were useless against the solid objects ahead of her anyway. After a moment, the Rodians quit trying to hit her ship at all and resorted instead to blasting debris out of their way, clearing a direct shot to her. Ahsoka knew the tactic was likely to work the longer she remained in the Scrapyard, but it was a long way until she cleared the entire thing: over an hour of dangerous flying, even if she allowed herself to go at full speed, which wasn’t wise. She was at a mounting disadvantage, and she knew it. Unfortunately, none of the clusters of junk were large enough to conceal her shuttle, and as the LPSes had excellent tracking radar, she wasn’t sure hiding was even possible.

Soon, the Corellian assault boat was lining up behind her, try as she may to keep off one direct course. The distance between the two vessels was still significant, but she wasn’t sure what the range of the Mynock’s firepower was. Its quad laser cannons were having no difficulty in blowing apart debris that was a few hundred meters away from her at most, and she had seen a concussion missile tube inset on the front of the hull. They hadn’t deployed this weapon yet, and she hoped they wouldn’t resort to it, as her shields would be ineffective against a projectile of that size. She had to believe that they wouldn’t use it, if they planned to retake Maul from her at all: a direct hit from that type of missile would completely destroy her shuttle, and though she may survive the impact by deploying the ejector seats and using the Force to cloak her survival capsule, her prisoner would certainly be destroyed in the explosion. The Rodians were good bounty hunters; they were bound to know this.

Ahsoka did a hard canopy roll to her left, trying to shake off the pursuing spacecraft, but two of the Light Patrol Ships spread out to this side and began clearing junk out of the way, allowing the assault boat to realign itself behind her. One of them began to creep up into her seven, then eight. Not good.

“Dank farrik!” the Togruta muttered, narrowly missing a particularly large, crumpled, and charred piece of durasteel, likely from some other unfortunate vessel that had attempted sneaking through this area before. Ahsoka’s heart was beating fast, the adrenaline rush making her feel overly warm. Or perhaps that was the steady burning of the bled kyber crystals tucked under her lek; they buzzed hotly, and she could sense apprehension and anger brewing within them. They made her normally cool nerves feel unraveled and unstable, making it harder to feel the flow of the Cosmic Force around her and the T-6. “Cool it, assholes, I’m trying,” she growled, gripping hard at the controls before her. Without this connection to the Force, she felt as though she were flying blind, and she flinched every time rubble ricocheted off her hull or struck her wings. If her ship survived this, it was definitely going to need repairs.

With the Mynock -class closing the gap between them, Ahsoka attempted a last-ditch jink: a high-g barrel roll. This was a maneuver better suited for combat within a planet’s atmosphere, for it relied on gravity, but Ahsoka didn’t know what else to try. Without gravitational forces, the Togruta would have to gun the triple engines on her shuttle hard at the precise moment. She needed to draw one of the LPSes in close enough to cause an overshoot, and hopefully have one of the others to her right accidentally take it out. She did a sharp turn, again towards the left and shot up into a loop. The Patrol Ship now at her nine flew past her, as she’d predicted, just as one of the others on her right fired their laser cannons to interrupt her escape. These hit the first ship, and then, unable to stop their own momentum as it sped to intercept her, the LPS on her four collided with its counterpart which it had just shot. Ahsoka let out a triumphant whoop as she completed her maneuver while the Rodian crafts exploded spectacularly. Wait, she wasn’t supposed to enjoy that, was she? Underneath her mask, she grinned. Anakin would’ve been proud. “I managed to teach you something about proper flying after all,” she could almost hear him say.

Her elation was short lived, however. Of the three-remaining spacecraft, the two LPSes shot forward, moving in more aggressively and trying to pinch her between them by aiming their dorsal cannon turrets at her and firing. None of the shots were meant to hit, only to rattle her. The tactic was working. Damn those Sith crystals! Ahsoka grit her teeth and dove down sharply, narrowly avoiding a dense cluster of scrap metal. The Rodians exploded it with their lasers, and Ahsoka took advantage of the temporary particle cloud to weave back in among the debris. She banked quickly, this time to the right, purposefully flying into small clumps of rubbish. As the debris bounced off her hull, it caused a ripple effect: hitting other clusters and causing them to float erratically. Ahsoka needed to be careful using this tactic, she knew, for her shuttle was taking on damage in the process, and her ship had to hold when making the next hyperspace jump. First, she needed to make sure she made it to that point. Just then, the Togruta noticed an immense clump of fused scrap metal in her direct path and made towards it as fast as she could manage. Hugging it close, she flew a loop around it, wincing as it scraped against the side of her shuttle’s cylindrical body. However, it had been her plan to have it hit her, as the maneuver made the ball of junk twirl slowly, almost majestically, and veer off its fixated hover. It spun like a top in slow motion just as the Rodian bounty hunters were clearing their self-made particle cloud. She watched her rear sensors and noticed with satisfaction that one of the Patrol Ships had gotten hit full-on from the front, possibly crushing the main deck. Instants later, three capsules showed up on her sensors as the Rodians inside were forced to abandon ship. Good. She was almost home free.

The Fleet vessels remaining didn’t stop for their comrades, and in fact, increased their speed. They were becoming desperate in their efforts to stop her. Ahsoka was counting on that. She had to admit, though, that she was rather frazzled herself. Her T-6 couldn’t take much more damage, and it was difficult for her to maneuver sharply. This was a transport shuttle, not a starfighter, and her erratic flying was taking its toll on her systems. Endure… please just endure a bit longer… she silently pleaded, although she wasn’t sure if she was talking to her ship or to herself.

The remaining LPS had closed in on the assault boat, keeping a tighter formation with the larger vessel. It began to shoot haphazardly at the floating rubble around them, clearing a wide wedge of a path to her. The Mynock -class did not resort to firing, instead letting the smaller Patrol Ship do the heavy work. This worried her, for it probably meant the Rodians were saving the energy of the Corellian spacecraft for some other purpose.

The reason became clear to her a few moments later, when her rear sensors picked up a growing energy signature coming from the assault boat. Were they getting ready to fire their concussion missile? No, that made no sense: concussion missiles were solid projectiles that could breach hulls and were kept in pressurized tubes. That same pressure was then used to launch the warhead; thus, the weapon needed no preparation before shooting. The chin guns and quad cannons the vessel had been using up until that point were all laser-based weapons, which also required no extra energy to operate. Ahsoka didn’t have much time to ponder over it before the Mynock -class took its shot.

The LPS had cleared off a wide swath of debris from their trajectory, and so the Corellian ship had a few seconds where the path to her was clear. The former Padawan stared with dread at her display screen as her electronic sensors picked up the sudden dual bursts of particles that emitted from twin mortars on either side of the assault boat: the armored spacecraft was outfitted with ion cannons.

Her shields took on the first hit of plasma. Her systems took no damage, but her shields completely shorted out. Another direct hit would shut her entire mainframe down, killing her engines. Which was exactly what happened a few seconds later.

“No!” the Togruta involuntarily cried out as the second shot hit her rightmost engine, even as she tried to veer out of the way. The chain reaction was immediate: alarms inside the cockpit blared briefly and red lights sprang up on her screen for only a few seconds before her entire vessel powered down, leaving her in utter darkness. After a few seconds, the night vision mode of her mask switched on automatically. Cursing under her breath, Ahsoka fumbled with her seatbelt and stood while the T-6 cruised on its own momentum until hitting yet another cluster of junk and coming to a complete stop. What would the Rodians attempt to do now? They’d hit her with an ion blast, which told her they didn’t want to damage her vessel, at least not yet. Why? That’s a redundant question, she thought as she walked over to the med-bay. The answer was right in front of her. Maul was obviously the prize. Cebb had mentioned so, hadn’t he? The Zabrak was valuable to the Rodians and would probably fetch a higher price if handed over alive. Most bounties worked that way. Which meant the next step the reptilian bounty hunters would take was to board her ship.

She had no way to stop them.

Thanks to her militaristic training during the Clone Wars, the former Jedi didn’t panic. Not only had the Order taught her to accept things she could not change and move forward, but the clone troopers she had served with had also shown her a lesson that was just as valuable: pragmatism. Now that she was no longer running because she couldn’t, there was no reason for her to feel on edge. Was the situation at hand dangerous? Yes. Was her life at risk? Of course, but then again, she had accepted that danger was part of the bargain the moment she captured the Emperor’s first apprentice. Letting herself become consumed with fear would only serve to dampen her reflexes, cloud her judgement. Both were things she needed at the moment. She took a deep, steadying breath and looked down upon the unresponsive Nightbrother.

“No way around it, old man,” she murmured, squeezing his forearm gently in reassurance. (Not that it mattered. He was probably dead to the world.) “Looks like the Rodians are about to take you… again. But it won’t be for long; I’ll make sure of it. You and these blasted crystals aren’t going anywhere but with me.”

With that, Ahsoka briskly walked away, leaving the Dathomirian strapped down alone in the darkness. She wasn’t worried about Maul. With any luck he would be completely oblivious to anything happening around him for a few hours yet. She stepped into the narrow hallway of the shuttle and ran her hand over the airlock on the left-hand wall. As was expected, the controls didn’t respond, but she knew that wouldn’t stop the RHF from entering. She hoped they didn’t blast the door open in their haste. Her mask’s filtration system could probably allow her to keep breathing for a few moments in the vacuum of space, but she would certainly die from the temperature drop. If the bounty hunters were smart, they wouldn’t risk it, knowing it could cost them their prize.

As she pondered this, she felt a low thud as the Rodians pulled up beside her shuttle with one of their own and latched onto her vessel with a docking clamp. Judging by the size of the ships, and the level of armor she had observed in each, she was sure the ship to grab on to her now was the Mynock -class. It was the larger, newer of the spacecraft, and probably had the bigger crew. Ahsoka stepped back from the airlock as she felt another scraping movement against the hull, right outside the closed side entrance, where the Rodians had attached a magnetic boarding tube against the side, forming a pressure seal. The bounty hunters would only wait for a few seconds while the atmospheric conditions inside the tunnel stabilized. She had to think of a plan, and fast.

She briefly considered using her hidden lightsabers but decided against it. She knew her vessel inside-out, and the Rodians didn’t, and igniting her weapons would give her enemies a source of light which they could use to track her. The same went for the glow of the photoreceptive screens of her mask: they would only serve to give away her position. It was to her advantage if she moved in the pitch blackness. She closed her eyes and switched off the vision function of her impervium face-cover, then opened them to let them adjust to the darkness around her. She then stepped away from the airlock and retreated down the hallway, towards the engines. Attacking the RHF members as they attempted to enter was suicide, she knew, and useless. She would allow immense damage to happen to her ship, and would be wounded for sure, even if she managed to avoid instant death by using the Force. No, her best course of action would be infiltration. Hide and allow them to board, maybe even take Maul while she snuck into their vessel and begin to pick them off one by one. She didn’t even know how many Rodians were aboard the assault boat, but she would have to risk it.

All the doors to the various rooms of the shuttle had closed instantly when the ship was hit by the ion blast, as was protocol when suffering system damage in the case of a breach in the hull. Without electric power, Ahsoka had no way of opening them again, so the places where she could hide were limited. She basically only had the hallway, the wider area of the med-bay and maintenance pit, the cockpit, or the barren section by the boarding ramp. None offered good cover. Fortunately, there were also two partial decks at the far end, towards the back of the ship: one above and one below the main level. Together, these platforms were the equivalent of an engine room in larger spacecraft. To reach them, one had to lift metal panels that blended into either the ceiling or floor, respectively. The rooms were not large enough to fit more than one adult comfortably, and someone as tall as Ahsoka couldn’t really stand up at their full height when inside. Walking over to the appropriate spot, the Togruta reached up above her head and pushed against the ceiling with her fingertips until the hidden panel gave way. She hastily shoved it aside and pulled herself up into the compartment, only managing to clamber in as she heard the Rodians outside activate her airlock control from the other side. They were probably carrying an external battery pack in order to give her shuttle controls enough power to operate.

The airlock opened with a hiss, and from her position, the former spy was able to make out the silhouettes of several large, muscular Rodians stepping into the darkness of her vessel. She counted them as they walked in, bayoneted blasters raised at the ready: five in total. Despite Crupp’s dismissive attitude towards her, his boss wasn’t taking any chances it seemed. The bounty hunter troop all had flashlights at the end of their scopes, as well as mounted on the specialized helmets on their heads. They immediately dispersed upon entry: three heading toward the cockpit, and two hanging behind, aiming their beams of light down the hallway. Steadying her breath, Ahsoka focused, using her Living Force to influence the Rodians’ perspective. Do not look to the ceiling. There is nothing there.

The tactic worked, with the reptilian sentients sweeping their lights over the floor and into the corners of the hallway, but never aiming higher than their shoulder level. Satisfied, they headed down the passageway to join the others.

After several tense moments in which Ahsoka listened with bated breath for any blaster fire – thankfully, they didn’t shoot Maul – one of the RHF soldiers returned to the airlock and signaled down the boarding tube, obviously hailing another member. Almost immediately, a sixth bounty hunter appeared, dragging an armored medical capsule behind him. It was similar to the bulky thing they had used to bring the Nightbrother aboard. The pair of Rodians quickly disappeared from her view down the hall. The Togruta could hear the group scuffling hastily to move and fasten the Zabrak in. The clanging of his legs against the metal table, followed by muffled grunts and a heavy thud let her know the Fleet members hadn’t been at all gentle.

Soon the troop was back at the airlock again. One of them spoke to the others in their native tongue, obviously giving instructions. He and three others flanked the hovering pod – two in front and two behind – and quickly made their way back to the assault boat via the tube. The two who were left behind headed back toward the front of her ship, their mission obvious to her. They were to find and eliminate her. Crouching inside the compartment, Ahsoka grinned. Good. Let them try.

Once the two were out of sight and the Togruta could hear them shuffling around the cockpit, she silently lowered herself into the hallway. Keeping close against the wall to her left, she crept forward, unholstering her blaster and thumbing the switch in the dark, turning off the safety and setting it to maximum stun.

She noticed with satisfaction that she had been correct in her earlier assessment: the light source from the Rodians’ rifles and helmets were more of a liability to them than a help. Ahsoka was able to immediately locate their positions, much sooner than they were able to spot her. In fact, only one poor bastard was able to notice her at all, and by then it was of course too late. She had already come up behind his partner from behind and shot him at point-blank range on the base of his skull, holding his body up with one arm as his weapon clattered to the floor. The other Rodian whirled around with a startled grunt only in time to see the former Jedi’s arm reach out from behind his unconscious companion, her own blaster aimed straight at his neck. He was down before he could release a single shot. “Unless you’re tryin’ to kill, don’t aim for an enemy’s chest,” Rex had taught her years ago. “That’s where the armor’s thicker, whether it’s a clanker or an armored person. A stun blast won’t even tickle. Aim for the weak spots, kid. The neck, under the arm... pretty much any joint.”

In the beginning of the Clone Wars, Ahsoka had never needed to resort to using a blaster, but she had absorbed the information, nonetheless. Anakin approved and in fact, encouraged these impromptu lessons from the clones towards his Padawan. He felt it rounded out her training well, and that wartime necessitated it. Ahsoka had made good use of that knowledge after the Republic fell and was certainly grateful for those teachings now. By the light from the Rodians’ weapons and equipment, the Togruta searched the two soldiers. Sure enough, like all good bounty hunters, they carried stun cuffs and energy binders. The cuffs she used on them, shackling their arms behind their backs tightly. The energy binders, she pocketed. They might prove useful down the road. Using the Force, she dragged their unconscious bodies away from the control room and left them in the hallway. This had been the easy part. Making her way to the airlock, she took a deep breath to center herself once more and quiet the pounding of her heart. She reached out with her Living Force and felt across the boarding tube and into the other vessel, trying to pinpoint the location of the others. She didn’t know the layout of the Mynock -class, but she could sense another person in close proximity, just on the other end of the tube. A companion, left behind to ascertain these two had a successful mission? Almost guaranteed.

The boarding tube was dimly lit – being a temporary extension of the main Rodian craft, this came as no surprise – and Ahsoka moved along it quickly and silently, ever alert to any sound her montrals registered. She paused in the entranceway to the assault boat, intently listening for the sound of the bounty hunter she knew was just beyond. Focusing herself once more, she willed for the Rodian to come to her instead. Since she had no eye-contact with him, this was more difficult to perform than a simple mind trick, but she used the reptilian’s own sense of nervous impatience she could feel reverberating around him to make him believe investigating the tube was his idea. Those two are taking too long, she persuaded him to think. Better take a quick look.

The armored behemoth had no sooner stuck his head around the edge of the entranceway, squinting into the poorly lit tube than the Togruta was already pulling the trigger. The large bounty hunter stumbled backwards, but she caught him with the Force and kept him from falling, making it seem as though he had merely stumbled. She brought his unconscious body to her instead and secured his arms quickly with one of the sets of energy binders she’d gotten from his companions. She relieved him of his equipment and left him on the floor of the boarding tunnel before carefully peeking into the Corellian ship. Yep, as suspected, security recorders were mounted up on the ceiling: one on each far end. She switched her blaster’s settings onto laser and took careful aim. She was nowhere near as good a marksman as Master Kenobi when under pressure, but she was a decent shot nonetheless, and these targets weren’t moving. She took out both devices without much fuss.

From there, she made her way down the single hallway towards wide double doors she was sure led to the cockpit. Through the Force, she could sense lifeforms on the other side. The controls were easy enough to operate, very basic. They hadn’t even required a code or clearance chip, as she was sure the Rodians hadn’t expected anyone to breach their defenses. However, she was met with blaster fire immediately before the doors were even fully open. The Rodians inside must’ve noticed the security cameras shut off. Ahsoka drew back against the wall, taking cover. She instinctively reached for her belt in order to draw one of her lightsabers – it was second nature to use her blades to deflect laser fire – only then remembering her weapons were tucked under her leather egis. Even though it would have been easy to do so, the Togruta did not retrieve her sabers. Although the Jedi had been essentially wiped out of existence during Order 66 and the subsequent years, lightsabers were still remembered in some parts of the galaxy, and with the emergence of Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion, this type of weapon had gained more notoriety. Their wielders were few and far between. She didn’t need to risk recognition; however slight the chance may be.

Instead, Ahsoka took the remaining pair of energy binders she had and looked them over, analyzing the mechanisms. It was difficult to do with shots whizzing by mere centimeters from her face, but a quick once-over gave her the information she required. They were rather advanced restraints, being a set of durasteel cuffs connected by sturdy binding wire. A button on one of the cuffs activated a magnetic energy field that reinforced the flexisteel wire and kept the prisoner from attempting escape. It appeared that once triggered, the magbinders could only be deactivated by the owner, as they required a code to shut them off. The flexisteel binding wire was adjustable to various lengths, as were the cuffs able to accommodate different girths. The former spy now took the binders and extended the length of the cord to as long as it would go: a bit over a meter. Activating the magnetic energy field, she watched with satisfaction as the binding wire buzzed to life, illuminated slightly with a dim blue light. She grabbed one of the wrist bracelets firmly in her left hand and began to spin the cuffs around in front of her, like a propeller. Any type of magnetism by nature repelled blaster fire – it’s what made magseals so efficient – and the field surrounding the flexisteel wire was no different. Keeping her makeshift shield whirling before her face and torso, Ahsoka entered the cockpit.

Inside (and actively shooting at her) were three more Rodians, each positioned at their respective controls. These soldiers were more lithe and slender of build than the bounty hunters she’d encountered thus far, meaning they were probably Fleet pilots and not members of the Goa-Ato. Ahsoka charged at them quickly, using the magnetic cuffs in a whiplike fashion. It became more obvious to her that these particular Rodians were not seasoned brawlers when she easily disarmed the one closest to her by knocking his blaster away with the durasteel end of the binders. She quickly brought her own firearm up and shot the poor schlep between the eyes. As he crumpled to the floor, lifeless, with a distinctive burn mark on his forehead, Ahsoka groaned. “Dank farrik!” she cursed again, remembering she had left her blaster set to laser fire. Well, it was too late to lament now, and also to change the settings on her weapon. She made a mental note to be careful not to aim for a lethal hit on the remaining two. Although they were not extending the same courtesy to her, she wanted to avoid ending life if she could.

The other two were subdued just as quickly: one went down when she blew out his kneecap – even dropping his pistol – and knocked him unconscious with a roundhouse kick to the head, while the other turned and ran in the end. Ahsoka used the magnetic binders to grab at him, one end wrapping around his neck, then yanked him back to her. She put him into a sleeper hold until he quit struggling. She was surprised it had been so easy. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t need Maul’s bled crystals to activate inside her lekku sleeves for her to feel a creeping suspicion. Why hadn’t the pilots been better protected by their peers? Why, she thought, looking over the ship’s controls, hadn’t they activated the vessel’s alarm system? Surely, it had one. She was certainly walking into a trap. Of course, she had to be. Rodians were notorious as being among the race that produced the best mercenaries and bounty hunters. Those working directly for their government would never be this sloppy. Still, what choice did she have, but to continue her incursion into the assault boat? She needed to recover Maul.

The former Jedi quickly bound the surviving pilots and then took some time to carefully search the cockpit for any hidden surprises. She reached out with her Living Force but could sense no one in the immediate vicinity. There were others aboard, though: she could feel their presence, but they were nowhere nearby. Activating the ship’s controls, Ahsoka was able to pull up the power grid. As she had hoped, the Mynock -class’s hull was outfitted with inductive coupling, permitting contactless power transfer between it and other vessels. The Togruta activated the induction coils of the assault boat in order to get a magnetic field going. She made sure to put the settings to the lowest strength available so her T-6’s systems wouldn’t take too much strain. The ion blasts had overloaded her reactors and caused them to shut down completely, and now she needed just enough juice to reboot. She hoped that the time it would take her to recover the Zabrak would be sufficient to recharge her own electrical grid without overheating anything vital. That she was able to do this at all, without any of the assault boat’s security protocols activating was not sitting well with her. With this done, the former spy secured the cockpit and made her way back down the long passageway.

She walked all the way to the opposite end of the ship, pausing by each doorway she came across to listen for any sound and feel around with her Living Force. No sign of anyone other than the unconscious yet. Her instincts led her to the end of the hall, where another set of smaller double doors were situated. Pressing the controls and quickly stepping away as the doors slid open, Ahsoka discovered this to not be a room, but a small elevator. Once inside, she saw there was only one way to go: down, and just one level. The Corellians had designed a small double-decker. Impressive. It wasn’t immediately noticeable from the outside. This ship was roomier than it appeared.

The lower deck of the assault boat was obviously a holding section for prisoners, perhaps troops. There were less doors along the narrow hallway on this level, so if the configurations lined up with that above, it meant the rooms below were larger holding quarters. Ahsoka could feel nervous energy coming from the first entrance she got to, and what’s more, the door was open. Another ambush? No, more like oblivious lackeys, for she could hear voices within. It didn’t seem as though the Rodians inside had even heard the scuffle upstairs. Not wanting to blow her cover, the Togruta crouched down before entering, keeping herself close up against a bulk of metal crates that was placed beside the door. From her new vantage point, she peered carefully around the side.

There were only two Rodians within: large, lumbering males in full armor. These two were from the group who had boarded her ship, as had been the fellow she’d taken down in the mounting tunnel. The fourth hulking one was missing, but she would have to worry about him later. The two Rodians were guarding Maul.

They had placed the Dathomirian into a containment field, which explained why the bounty hunters had not been able to hear her brawl on the upper level: the field generator was easily disrupted by nearby technology, which meant this room was insulated well. The two Rodians were talking among themselves, muttering hoarsely, obviously jittery and uncomfortable with their designation of keeping watch over the rogue Sith. In their nervousness, they began joshing around roughly, and although Ahsoka couldn’t understand Rodese, she could discern that they were taunting one another for being afraid of the unconscious Nightbrother. One of them, as though to prove his bravery, walked over to the containment field and stood directly before it. After a moment’s hesitation, during which his partner hooted mockingly, the large brute turned a dial on the cylindrical base which caused a strong electric current to course through the field. From her hiding place, Ahsoka winced, her expression quickly becoming dark. She was familiar with containment fields, had been subjected to one during the Clone Wars, and years later by Dryden Vos during a run-in she had with the Crimson Dawn syndicate. Just being in the field was uncomfortable enough – a mild feeling of pain reverberated throughout one’s body, causing debilitating headaches and weakening of the joints – due to the electromagnetic field conducting through the cuffs the person was shackled with. That was on the lowest setting. What the Rodian had just done was increase the electric charge to maximum strength, causing excruciating pain and disorientation. Any person would have screamed and writhed in agony. It was more horrifying to her that Maul did not respond in the slightest, obviously still paralyzed by the newoongall toxin.

With a satisfied grunt, the large Rodian turned the dial back down and walked over to his partner with an air of smugness. He punched his companion’s chest and among other things, called him “vuth,” which at least Ahsoka now knew the meaning of. As far as she was concerned, both were cowards, and of the lowest kind. She suddenly wished Maul could move, knowing the slightest twitch from the Zabrak would have sent the two scrambling in terror. It was with great reluctance that she switched the settings on her blaster back to stun. The second bounty hunter was having his turn with the containment field settings when Ahsoka stepped out from behind the crates.

In her haste, her first shot hit one of the soldiers full on the back, instead of getting him in the neck as she had been aiming to. He flinched slightly and then both were charging at her, bellowing as ferociously as charging mudhorns. Ahsoka leapt up onto the pile of crates easily, dodging their laser blasts along the way. She somersaulted off the metal containers and landed between them, knocking the rifle out of one’s grip with a well-placed kick when he tried stabbing at her with his bayonet. The other fired wildly at her, and the Togruta dodged quickly and let his partner take the hit. This didn’t bring him down, however. Rex had been right – the armor was rather resilient in the chest area. Instead, he made to tackle her, but Ahsoka reacted in time. Dropping low to the ground, she did a spinning sweep, knocking both Rodians off their feet. Experienced fighters, both of them, they rolled with the fall and were soon standing again. The Togruta didn’t give them time to recover, attacking the unarmed one with a series of punches and kicks directly onto the burn mark on his armor, still gripping her own pistol tightly in her right hand. Even if the shot from his companion hadn’t killed him, it had most definitely wounded him, and Ahsoka now had a weakness to exploit. When the Rodian doubled over in pain, hands to his chest, the former spy elbowed him hard in the snout, where the flesh was tender. Bleeding, the bounty hunter howled in pain and stumbled backwards into his partner, who was still trying to get a clear shot at her. Ahsoka added to his backwards momentum by giving him a strong roundhouse kick enhanced by the Force, which sent them both sprawling. Two shots at point-blank range straight into their faces, and it was over. Without stopping to catch her breath, Ahsoka made a beeline to the containment field and turned the dial all the way back down. Damned Rodian had left the settings set to maximum when he’d noticed her approach.

The Togruta leaned against the base of the containment field controls and looked around the room. There was still that one missing Fleet member she had to deal with. However, the bled crystals in her sleeve were beginning to resonate again, this time as they had back on Tatooine. Perhaps they could feel Maul in close proximity, or maybe their desire for conflict had been aroused once more during her fight. Either way, Ahsoka felt a sense of urgency coming from them, and she turned back to the controls quickly and shut down the generator. The hum of the field abruptly stopped, and the Zabrak collapsed onto the floor, his cybernetic legs hitting first with a loud clang. By instinct, Ahsoka sprang forward and caught him before he fully hit the ground, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and easing him down slowly. By the stars, he was heavy! One of his horns dug into her left lek when his head rolled forward, but she didn’t mind. Her heart was hammering wildly in her chest: the rush of adrenaline blending in with the anxiety those kyber crystals were giving her. Hurry. Hurry!

“It’s okay,” she gasped, cradling the Nightbrother in shaky arms, “I’ve got you, old man.”

“What you’ve got is a death wish,” growled a voice from behind her. Ahsoka still had her blaster in her hand, and she raised it now, turning toward the Rodian at her back. She knew that thick accent. “Let me grant it!” spat Crupp, weapon aimed straight at her.

In those following seconds, everything seemed to slow down. Ahsoka pulled the trigger, but she knew her shot went wide, as she wasn’t really aiming, her other arm automatically drawing Maul closer against her torso, as though to shield him. In the back of her mind, a befuddled part of her couldn’t understand why she didn’t just drop him. She was sure, so certain, that she missed her mark, except that Phex Crupp’s eyes opened wider still, almost popping out of their sockets, and he fell forward, snout agape. Wait, fell forward? But that he did, a wisp of smoke coming out from the back of his skull. Standing directly behind him, scaly skin pallid and trembling uncontrollably, stood Cebb Nereno, a blaster rifle much too big for him clasped awkwardly in his hands. Sensing death, the bled kyber crystals buzzed hotly.

For a moment, neither one spoke, both seemingly too stunned to do so. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the young Rodian medic reacted, dropping the blaster onto the floor in shock. “I… I shot him,” he stammered, his blue eyes unbelieving. “I sh-shot Master Crupp. I shot him.”

Upon hearing the firearm clatter loudly onto the ground, Ahsoka released a held breath and lowered her pistol, as she had still been numbly aiming it at the spot where Phex Crupp had stood only instants earlier. She holstered her blaster, relieved.

The boy, however, seemed anything but calm. There was a tense energy about him, and his antennae and quills quivered. “Holy Protectors, I… I k-killed him…!”

It was then that Ahsoka realized that Cebb Nereno had never taken a life: at least, not a sentient one. She understood the feeling of emptiness and dismay that must’ve been coursing through him at that moment. Although during the first years of the Clone Wars she was fighting and destroying androids, there came a time, as the conflict dragged on and got messier, where she was forced to kill a person. She had been taught to move beyond it, to accept things as a matter of course, but she still remembered the desolation she’d felt as her foe’s Life Force seeped back into the ether, never to return to animate that body. Knowing she had that power over another and had used it to destroy… in the immediate aftermath, she had been too filled with epinephrine to dwell on the sensation, but in the days and weeks that followed, she had been haunted, unable to discuss the incident, even with her master. Poor Cebb. Poor, sweet Cebb. He would never be the same.

Setting the Zabrak carefully down, Ahsoka rose to her feet and made her way to the medic, stepping over Phex Crupp’s body in her way. Cebb stared at her, wide-eyed. “I killed him,” he repeated in an awed whisper.

“You did,” the ex-Jedi replied solemnly, reaching over to take him by the shoulders. As he had done to her back on his home world, she shook him gently. “And if you hadn’t done so, I’d be dead by now. I keep owing you my gratitude.”

Her comment made the Rodian blink in slight confusion, then shake his head before looking down and away. Well, at least she had elicited a different reaction than what he’d been stuck on. “What are you even doing here, Cebb?” Ahsoka asked, the thought suddenly popping into her mind. “Not that I’m sorry you are.” She turned and walked back over to Maul and crouched beside him.

“I – I had to come,” the reptilian said, and suddenly his words began to come out all at once in a rush. “Crupp he… he found out that you came in through the Scrapyard, said he was going to take some men and wait for you, just in case. And… and I’m the one that told you to try escaping this way. They were going to ambush you, whichever way you tried to leave. Since I knew you’d probably try to come this way, I decided to sneak aboard. I… I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, or even what use I’d be, but I… I...” His voice trailed off and he shrugged helplessly.

Ahsoka looked up over her shoulder at the young Rodian. He seemed absolutely at a loss as to how to continue, but there was also a bright glint in his blue eyes, as though realizing his own power. “I don’t regret what I did,” he ended resolutely.

“Good,” the Togruta replied. “I don’t think you should. Phex Crupp got what he deserved. From the little I witnessed, he appeared to be a horrible person.”

“Oh, he was,” Cebb agreed. “One of the worst I’ve known.” He gingerly stepped around the Goa-Ato leader’s corpse and came up beside her. Ahsoka was busy removing the metallic cuffs from off the immobilized Nightbrother. They were still warm to the touch from the surge of electric current they had administered moments earlier to the Zabrak, and as the former Padawan removed the first brace, she saw to her dismay that the flesh around his wrists had suffered burns. Already, the skin was blistering. Her rear lek was aching steadily from the dark aura of the kyber crystals hidden there. Their venomous power hadn’t lowered in intensity since her shootout with the two large brutes guarding Maul, and seeing his wounds only served to anger them more. She had no way to treat him here but made a mental note to apply bacta patches on him as soon as she got him back to her shuttle. Which reminded her…

“The others brought my captive down here in one of those armored med-pods from Emergency Services,” she told Cebb without looking up from her work removing the other shackle. “I didn’t see where they left it, but I’ll need it to transport the old man back to my ship. Can you…?”

“Go get it? Sure,” the medic replied, his steps hurrying away from her. Already, his voice sounded steadier, more sure of himself. Ahsoka was glad. Perhaps he had needed something to focus on that would take his mind off what he’d just been forced to do. Resilient kid, that one. But he worried her. What was he supposed to do now that he’d openly defied his people’s government? He was no longer safe in Tyrius.

When she heard his footsteps coming up behind her once more, she straightened up a bit, trying to decide the best way to lift the Zabrak up into the repulsorsled. She wasn’t sure how strong Cebb was, and now that she’d borne Maul’s full weight, Ahsoka knew she couldn’t pick the cyborg straight up from the ground without using the Force. Was it wise to let the medic witness such a thing?

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw you manage to catch him as he fell,” Cebb commented from behind her. “His legs alone would’ve given someone even as large as Crupp trouble lifting. You must be really strong.”

For a moment, Ahsoka wondered if she should lie to the kid about her physical strength. “ Yeah, all Togrutas are capable of lifting five times their weight.” Right, sure. Dwang, she hadn’t even noticed she’d enhanced her strength with the Force in the moment she’d lunged forward. All she had thought about was grabbing Maul before he hit the floor. She chose not to answer, changing the subject instead.

“Things will become dangerous for you, now,” she muttered, propping the Zabrak up on her shoulder. She might be able to convincingly lift him on her own using the fireman’s carry. It was a well-known technique that allowed even weaker and lighter beings to pick up much larger and heavier ones. Cebb was sure to be familiar with the method, as immersed as he was in the medical field. She could aid herself with the Cosmic Force and pretend she was having a difficult time of it. Yes, that might work. “If Navik realizes you helped me escape, he’ll come after you for sure. But you mentioned that you snuck aboard, right? So, no one back on Rodia knows you’re here.” Having placed Maul in a somewhat sitting position, Ahsoka stood up, keeping herself stooped over the Dathomirian and her arms tucked in under his armpits, preparing to hoist him up. “At this point, I think there may be no other alternative for you than to come with me, Cebb. Once we get away, I’m sure we can find a way to notify the New Republic so they can safeguard your clan, maybe get them offworld.”

“It’s alright, really,” the young medic said, placing a hand on her shoulder. At his close proximity, the bled kyber crystals in her sleeve resonated hotly, but that didn’t surprise her. Those things didn’t like anybody, it seemed. Certainly not her. “My family will be all right. I’ll make sure of it.”

As he said this, Ahsoka felt a different sensation join the burning ache in her rear lek. It began as a pinprick, a small pinch, like a bug bite. Then the pain rapidly spread down her lek and up to her skull: a clenching spasm that made her muscles seize up. This time, the Togruta did drop Maul, and as she stood fully and stumbled back in surprise and confusion, Cebb Nereno stepped quickly out of the way. Ahsoka tried to reach a hand back to feel what had poked her, but the cramp was already spreading down her shoulders, making her unable to lift her arms. She took a few steps backwards and bumped into the medical capsule the Rodian had brought forward. Her throat closed up; she couldn’t even cry out or speak or make any sound at all. Cebb stepped before her, putting himself between her and the unconscious Zabrak on the floor. In one hand, he held a syringe. An empty syringe. Holding it up, he looked at her, tilting his head to the side in a contemplative manner. “It’s like I told you before, Agent Fulcrum,” he said now, his voice eerily calm. “I’m no hero in all this.”

Chapter Text

Nothing made sense. The Sith gems were screaming in her brain. Somewhere around her chest area, her own kyber crystals were beginning to hum a lament. It was sad, but also soothing. What? What was Cebb talking about? She was in danger. Danger!

Quit your screeching, dammit!

Ahsoka tried to walk away, but her legs were already buckling beneath her, refusing to move. She barely managed to take a few clumsy steps before she was falling to the metal floor. How she managed to turn her body and land on her butt, she wasn’t sure, but she ended up in a sitting position, her back against one of the durasteel crates the Rodians had lying about. One of the bolts along the edge of it dug into her lower spine painfully. Maul’s weapon was getting crushed between her rear lek and her back, sending nauseating waves of discomfort to her skull. But her body wouldn’t respond to what she was feeling. She couldn’t even dry heave. Her mind whirled with a myriad of thoughts, all jumbled together and confused. Nothing made sense! Cebb? What had he done? Why had he…? Skrog, how did this happen? She had let her guard down. How? How had she been so careless? So… so…

Stupid.

Stupid girl.

Shut up!

She wanted to cry, a feeling of despair rising up in her breast. Except it was all only in her head. Physically, her body was completely relaxed. Delayed response in the autonomic nervous system, eh? Touché.

The entire time, Cebb Nereno watched her carefully, openly curious. Why, Cebb? Why?

“I’ve never seen how the body initially reacts to the toxin,” the young Rodian was saying now, “but I know what you’re experiencing. I was one of the first test subjects from Navik’s bioweapons program. Mascot, remember?” He chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head. “Crupp said I could choose to either volunteer myself or my mother. Can you believe that? He was the worst scum to crawl out of the swamps. Just an animal. He would’ve gone through with it, too. Bastard!” The young Rodian’s brow furrowed angrily, and he tossed the syringe aside in frustration. He marched over to Phex Crupp’s body and Ahsoka lost him from view, unable to turn her head or even follow his movements with her eyes. But her montrals caught the sound of the soft impacts where Cebb’s boots hit flesh until finally… a crunch. Followed by more. Oh, by the Force, he was stomping on the corpse until the bones broke. Ahsoka could hear the medic panting from the effort.

After a moment, Cebb stumbled back to her and crouched down before her, so they were at eye level. Even so, the Togruta couldn’t really see him clearly. Ahsoka’s lids had drooped down against her will but couldn’t close fully. She couldn’t blink. Her eyes were drying out, but she couldn’t move them. Even her lacrimal glands seemed frozen, unable to produce lubricating tears.

“I guess it’s pointless for me to tell you not to take this personally,” the medic murmured, forearms casually resting on his knees. “I don’t really have a vendetta against you or anything, only the system you represent.”

Wait, what?

“You see, when I eavesdropped on Crupp’s conversation with Wieedo about a New Republic emissary, I was very pleased at first. Relieved. Because things have been horrible back home ever since Navik took over. Which happened before I was even born, so I guess things’ve always been terrible for me.”

Cebb rocked back on his heels and hugged his legs up to his chest. That same nervous energy Ahsoka had sensed in the lad right after he shot Phex Crupp was still surrounding him, but there was a darkness accompanying it now, the rumblings of burgeoning anger. “I thought you were here to help us,” Cebb continued, his voice wistful. “Help my people. I thought… I believed the New Republic had finally sent someone to deliver us from Navik’s rule. After all, he took advantage of the chaos caused by the establishment of the Empire to launch his coup against the Tetsu Clan and set himself up as the Inta’si’rin’na. The new Emperor, Palpatine, he allowed it, and in the ensuing years forged strong ties to Chattza Clan. No other tribe stood a chance against Navik. That’s why, after the Emperor died, after the Rebels accomplished the impossible, Navik became scared. His time as tyrant was over, his days were numbered. Clans like mine, who had nearly gotten wiped out by the Chattza because our fathers and grandfathers resisted Navik’s rule, we had hope that with a new galactic government, things would change. That’s why Able joined the Rebellion, you know?”

He paused and looked at her, as though expecting an answer. “Well, of course you don’t know, Agent Fulcrum, you never met my brother. You would have liked him, I think. Able was a great guy, selfless. Always looking at the bigger picture, looking to the possibility of a better…” Here Cebb choked, and he looked down at his feet and shook his head. Ahsoka could sense that anger roiling within him. “A better future,” Cebb finished with a gasp, as though just saying the words wounded him. His slender shoulders were shaking, and for a moment, the former Jedi thought the boy was crying. However, a few seconds later, she realized that no, he was laughing, his entire frame shaking as he hooted uncontrollably. It was the mad laughter of despair, of a broken soul.

Oh, Cebb…

“He was perfect for your little Rebel Alliance,” the Rodian spat now, getting his laughter under control. “So idealistic, so naïve…” He stood, walking away again. When he came back into view, he was holding one of the blaster rifles in his hands again. “I begged him not to go,” Cebb said, looking the firearm over carefully, as though inspecting it. “He and I were the only males left in our clan by then. When my brother and I were still only boys, Navik had my paternal grandfather brought up on false charges and executed publicly. They made a big fuss over the trial, but everyone knew there was no truth to the accusations. He was meant to serve as an example for the other clans, a warning.”

The young medic made his way to one of the Goa-Ato members who still lay sprawled on the floor from the stun blast Ahsoka had given him straight to his face. The Togruta couldn’t see him very well from where she was sitting, just one of his legs and a foot. Cebb stood over the bounty hunter: the soldier was beginning to stir, moaning feebly.

“This filthy vuth is Koas of Anyyon clan. His people used to be proud warriors, protectors of the An’yettu.” Ahsoka heard the kick, and then the bounty hunter groaned in pain. “My father and his brothers begged them for help. Not for themselves, but for their wives and offspring. They asked only for refuge, if at least temporary, on their islands. They refused.” Ahsoka heard the blaster shot, and Koas screamed. Cebb was obviously not shooting to kill. “They denied the Nerenos access to their sanctuaries even after Navik murdered my father and his three brothers, leaving the clan without any male heirs, save for prepubescent boys.”

Another blast, another cry of pain. “They turned away old women and children.”

Ahsoka could hear the sizzle of charred plastoid and burned flesh as another shot went off. Then another. The large Rodian screamed and screamed, and the leg within Ahsoka’s view writhed and flopped until two more blasts hit the knee and thigh. By contrast to the bounty hunter’s whimpering, Cebb’s voice remained calm and steady. “Now the Anyyon have formed an alliance with Chattza and send their sons to work and die for Navik the Red. Let them die, then.” There was a series of rapid blaster fire. The screams choked off and the leg spasmed and twitched until it was still. Koas of Anyyon clan was no more. Ahsoka could do nothing, nothing at all.

Immediately after killing Koas, Cebb moved on to his partner. Ahsoka couldn’t see anything this time around, for which she was glad. The sounds were just as terrible, however.

“Inpe Neetakka,” the medic said scornfully, letting off a shot. The blast and pain roused the stunned bounty hunter, but his cries were already feeble. Ahsoka gathered this one must be the one who had been wounded in her fight against the pair. He would have survived if he had received medical attention within the next few hours. It seemed too late for that, now.

“The Neetakka clan,” Cebb explained to her between laser fire, sounding a bit breathless – it may have been due to exertion or exhilaration, Ahsoka wasn’t sure – “was formed by Navik himself, composed of members of other clans he deemed most loyal to him, but who he didn’t think worthy enough to marry into Chattza. Their name means ‘Ultimate Hunter.’ Ha! They should be called Neevutha!” A zap of blaster fire followed by the sizzling hiss echoing in the large room again. Neetakka barely whimpered anymore, far too weak, and hopefully too near death to feel anything. “This ghest excrement killed his own brother, sister, and mother in order to be accepted into the new clan.” Another shot. “Before that, Inpe used to be my cousin. We were childhood friends. He and Able were really close as kids.” Then, Cebb began to scream furiously in Rodese at his kin and let off another flurry of shots. He was openly sobbing and simultaneously laughing as he murdered the helpless Inpe Neetakka. Despite the toxin-induced haze, the former Padawan could sense the death around her, felt life fleeting. There was so much sorrow and anger in Cebb Nereno’s aura. Ahsoka felt wretched, absolutely sickened to her core.

It was a while before Cebb got himself under control enough to approach her again. Ahsoka could see the young Rodian was mentally unravelling, his eyes wild, quills and antennae quivering. He had repressed his ire for most of his life, it seemed, and allowing himself to let it loose appeared to be overwhelming him. He had a crazed look, both liberated and terrified, and – more importantly – dangerous. When he sat down on the floor opposite the Togruta, he looked exhausted, but his eyes shone brightly. “Inpe used to tell me the only chance I had at a better life was to follow his example. He said the Nereno name was blacklisted, that we could never hope to overcome Navik. Better to have our family die by our own hand quickly and mercifully… I don’t know. I… I hated him for so long after that.” Cebb’s snout twitched, and he rubbed at it unconsciously. “Able was heartbroken, I know that. But he was also a fool. He came to idolize the Chekkoo clan after he met some of them on Betu, let them fill his head with baseless dreams. I told him, I said, ‘Abe, if the Chekkoo wanted to destroy Navik so strongly, they would do so out in the open, not in the shadows, like vuth.’ But he didn’t listen. He never listened to me…!” The medic’s long hands were balled into fists in his lap, and he stared at them, his antennae twitching irately. “He let the Chekkoo goad him into joining the Rebel Alliance instead of staying here, with his clan, his family, protecting us, as was his duty. And I get that we were both too young to truly do anything meaningful. Nabba still made all the major decisions. She still does. But he… he didn’t even try.” At this, he looked up at Ahsoka, and it was evident to her that he associated her with his personal woes. “Able dreamed big, told me that the problems on Rodia were insignificant compared to the oppression going on in the entire galaxy. He believed that if Emperor Palpatine were deposed, Navik’s rule would naturally crumble. ‘Have hope,’ he would tell me.” Angrily, he got back on his feet. “Bah!” he scoffed. “Hope is just a hallucinogen used on the powerless to keep them going long after their bodies are spent. What good did hope do for Able? For his wife? Because, Agent Fulcrum, my brother married, if you can believe that. Married young, only to leave his new bride to go aid off-worlders who couldn’t give a Psadan’s patoot about him or his home world!”

He was pacing back and forth before her, evidently growing more and more upset. He was beginning to gesticulate about himself wildly with his hands, the pitch and volume of his voice increasing. Ahsoka wasn’t even sure he was aware of her anymore. “Why would he marry ‽ Well, because the koochu thought everything would work out, he’d be coming back along with his Rebel friends and liberate Rodia, right? After all, didn’t the Alliance manage to do that in Lothal? News of that reached us all the way over here, despite Navik’s best efforts at keeping our people in the dark. But no one came…! The Battle of Endor came and went, the Emperor killed in that explosion, supposedly. His top enforcer, too. But the grand heroes of the Rebellion were always too occupied, fighting what was left of the Empire, to bother with a mudball in the Outer Rim. And when someone finally did arrive…” He paused in his fervent pacing and was suddenly very, very still. He stared blankly off into space, all anger and tension leaving his features, making him appear exceedingly tired, and much older than Ahsoka was certain he was. “It was only an orphaned princess whose title means nothing anymore, bearing a letter for our clan, for R’ekzi, notifying her of Able’s death. Hah, he didn’t even die fighting. It was an explosion, she said, and he died saving his patient. She called him a hero, held Nabba’s hands, hugged us, and left.” That edge was creeping back into his voice, and Ahsoka could feel his anger building steadily once more. “All we had left of my brother was a kriffing sheet of flimsiplast signed by some royal brat who likely never knew what it was to suffer until her planet got blown up!” He spun on his heel then and glared down at the Togruta. “Do you know what that letter said? Do you ‽” Cebb was screaming again, this time at her. Looked like he hadn’t forgotten she was there after all. “This princess said she was ‘so sorry!’ That she understood the loss we were feeling.” With those words, the Rodian spat on the ground and stepped on it, grinding his heel into the spittle: a highly offensive gesture in his culture denoting contempt of the highest kind. “She can keep her sympathy and good intentions! Intent without action means nothing! Still, we kept to hope, for Able’s sake, Nabba said. For Able…”

The medic scrunched his eyes shut tightly, his hands balled into fists, his entire slender frame shaking. Ahsoka wished she could comfort him, in spite of what he’d done to her. She wanted to explain things to him but couldn’t speak. What could she have possibly told him anyway, were she able to? Many of his grievances were valid, and his pain was so raw she could almost smell it, like the pungent scent of strill lingering in the air after a hunt. She couldn’t expect someone as young and ignorant on the broader issues of the galaxy to understand that what had occurred in Lothal was difficult to replicate, and had nearly failed, at that, had Ezra not essentially sacrificed himself for the sake of his friends and people. Able Nereno had been correct overall, but the Togruta knew trying to tell the lad that was pointless. That his brother had done the right thing didn’t invalidate Cebb’s pain or his clan’s hardship under Navik’s tyrannical rule.

“Then came the Battle of Jakku…” the Rodian was saying, taking to pacing around again. “Finally! The end of the Civil War! Mas Amedda admitted defeat, signed the Concordance, and the New Republic began. Surely, now was the time, right? Right?” (That unhinged tone creeping back into his cadence.) “And how long has that been? Six standard years? Seven‽ Here in Tyrius, it feels like forever! And what has the New Republic done for Rodia? Nothing! For Navik, on the other hand… that bastard keeps profiting just as he did while Palpatine ran things! Jactna – he was even allowed to nominate someone to the Galactic Senate! Why‽ The New Republic knows what Navik has done, how he’s sacrificed his own people by the hundreds, if not thousands! Why do they legitimize his rule by offering his government a place among decent civilizations? Well, I know why. I understand now.” He walked over to the paralyzed Togruta and placed a boot on her chest, pressing her tightly against the metal crate. Ahsoka’s lek was being crushed, and she felt her spine pop, but she was unable to do anything about it. “Because Navik is useful to the Republic, just as he was to the Empire.” He was really leaning onto her torso, and Ahsoka was worried she would suffocate. It was difficult to breathe, but she couldn’t even gasp. “He was the first Grand Protector to truly wrangle the various clans of Rodia into submission. Hate as I do to admit it, he represents order. And order is all that matters to the NRC. Not suffering, not genocide. Not the subjugation and oppression of an entire planet. Navik keeps those weapons manufacturing plants going, and the Republic keeps getting blasters and cannons, just like the Empire did before them. Their agents run into trouble…” The young reptilian sentient finally removed his foot from off of her, only to draw his leg back and kick at her side as hard as he could. Her left arm took most of the impact, but the tip of his durasteel boot managed to hit a rib. Pain burst all along her torso and radiated up to her brain as Ahsoka tipped over and remained immobilized on the floor. With a disdainful grunt, the medic walked away. All the Togruta could see through the lens of her mask was the floor and the base of the containment field controls, the tip of Maul’s new foot partially visible, although she couldn’t quite focus her sight on anything. Her body ached, her head ached, but neither as badly as her heart did. Poor, lost Cebb. What was he planning, as misguided and wounded as he was? Nothing good, surely. If only she could talk to him, make him see reason… but how? Perhaps she could reach him through the Force…

The former Padawan did her best to focus, trying to feel and use her Living Force to touch the young Rodian medic’s. It was no use: the toxin in her blood seemed to be affecting more than her ability to move. Her mind was numb, and although she could register external stimuli, such as pain, she was unable to will herself to connect to the Force. How had Maul done it? Even during his surgery, while he was under the effects of the newoongall venom, she had felt him call upon the Dark Side through the– 

The kyber crystals!

Of course, that made absolute sense! He was their master, and they in turn served as a conduit between the Zabrak and the Cosmic Force. They detested her, she knew. In fact, at the moment, she could feel them burning hotly against the flesh of her lek in protest at the touch. They were bleeding a constant stream of hateful disdain upon her, but it didn’t matter. Those kriffing rocks were not who she was thinking about.

She shifted her attention from Cebb Nereno – who she could hear rummaging through one of the dead bounty hunter’s things – to her most trusted partners: the purified crystals housed in her lightsaber hilts. Her brain was still addled, and reaching them mentally proved difficult, but she could sense their sad hum reverberating in her bones, soothing her anguish and physical pain. They reached out to her poor attempts almost immediately, filling her being with a light so strong, that her vision swam completely out of focus, and she was blinded momentarily.

Help me touch him, please, Ahsoka begged them. Allow me to reach his heart so that he may awaken to reason…

She felt the kyber crystals resonate strongly through the Force, then sensed something else that startled and worried her. The bled Sith gems at her back responded to her white crystals’ song, sending waves of dark energy to meet the light. Were they trying to block her attempts‽ But, no, this was different, somehow. Not blocking the light… translating it into darkness…?

Cebb… Cebb!

The light faded, and her vision returned. Cebb Nereno was standing before her again – all she could see were his boots before her face – and she heard the distinct sound of a blaster rifle charging up as he cocked his weapon.

“You didn’t come here to help us,” he stated flatly. He reached down and grabbed at one of her montrals and yanked her back up into a sitting position.

Don’t, Cebb…

All four crystals were vibrating strongly.

“Just like the Empire, the New Republic needs Rodians to fix their mistakes. You’re ‘so sorry’ my brother died?” He took a deep, shaky breath, only barely containing his anger. “You didn’t even know him! He died for your stupid little friends, and they left his people to suffer and die under a cowardly dictator!” Cebb was screaming in her face, flecks of spittle splattering onto her impervium mask. “He left a widow with no offspring! Do you know what that means ‽ She is tainted forever by his death! No one will take her, not even her original clan! Now I’m supposed to provide for her, and I love her – she is my sister now – but how am I supposed to protect her and Nabba ‽ Our clan is practically nonexistent at this point!” His expression grew darker as he continued, “I noticed how Crupp looked at her. She thinks if she works in Equator City, she can help out financially, but there is no way I would allow R’ekzi to prostitute herself. Everyone knows that’s the only real job available in the casinos.” The young Rodian straightened up and stepped back from Ahsoka. “No one is ever going to help my home world,” he declared resolutely. “If my people are ever going to be rid of Navik, we’re going to have to do so ourselves.” With that, he raised the blaster and aimed straight at her chest. Ahsoka’s breastplate was made of leather: it allowed for greater mobility but was rather poor protection against laser fire. “I heard Wieedo and Crupp discussing how important your catch was. ‘The Shadow,’ huh? Even I’ve heard stories of him, growing up. He’s the prey that can never be caught. The killer of killers. Any Supreme Hunter sent up against him never returned, only pieces for his respective clan. You see? The New Republic, the Empire… they’re all the same, even after the same man. You’re just an Inquisitor by another name.”

No, no! Things are not like that…!

“I’ll get rid of you, then take your guy back to Rodia. I’ll tell Wieedo you killed the members of the Goa-Ato, and only the copilots and I survived. Those two are unconscious upstairs. They’ll believe whatever I tell them.” He tilted his head to the side and looked at her through the scope of his weapon. Her crystals were despairing. They were in so much agony from their connection with the Sith kyber, but the bled gems didn’t cease their interference. Light and Darkness blending into one constant drone of shared pain: sorrow and anger. “Whether Navik likes it or not, he’ll have to take me into the Guild. All of Rodia’s eyes will be on me. I’ll be a champion, for doing what no bounty hunter has been able to do before: capture the Shadow. With Crupp gone, I’ll have more direct access to Navik himself. And when I do, when I have gained his trust and he thinks me loyal…” Cebb took a deep breath and steadied his stance, slowly blinking, as though reveling in the fantasy he was forming. “Then, I will kill him, the way he, the Empire and the Rebellion all killed my brother, destroyed my entire clan…!”

Please, don’t do this, Cebb!

NO.

There was a burning burst of dark rage from the back of Ahsoka’s head as she felt the bled kyber crystals overtake the hum of her own. Just as the Rodian was pulling the trigger, his weapon suddenly jerked up violently – seemingly on its own – and the laser blast hit the ceiling. As sparks showered down on them, Cebb blinked, obviously as confused as Ahsoka felt. She hadn’t done that, surely? Through the bled crystals? But how did she manage to channel her will through them instead of her own? No, that fury didn’t come from her. She wasn’t angry at Cebb, for all his transgressions thus far. From her sitting position, the Togruta was able to see the young Rodian standing before her as he held the rifle out at arm’s reach in front of him, fear beginning to overtake his features, the unconscious Dathomirian prone on the floor behind him.

Not prone on the floor behind him. Standing on the floor behind him. The crimson Sith crystals shrieked in malevolent joy, triumphant.

Cebb stumbled backwards in shock, much as she had done earlier, but he didn’t bump into the hovering medical capsule. Ahsoka could only look on in horror as the Rodian stopped upon hitting something solid at his back, and although he couldn’t see behind him without turning, the Togruta could read in the expression on the medic’s face that he knew exactly what he had run into.

Ahsoka could make out Maul’s broad, patterned shoulders around the edges of Cebb’s slender frame, the cybernetic Zabrak towering ominously over the Rodian. In a swift motion almost too quick to detect, the Nightbrother brought a large hand up to grab Cebb Nereno tightly by the quills and antennae, jerking his head back so it rested on the crook of his shoulder. With the other hand, Maul took hold of the blaster rifle – his tattooed fingers enclosing over Cebb’s thin ones in a painful-looking vice grip – and brought it tightly against the medic’s chest while forcing the barrel up again. The bayonet at the end of it brushed against the soft flesh of the young Rodian’s throat.

“You should have done as the lady said, kid,” the Nightbrother growled. “Never listen to me.”

Don’t do it…!

But it was too late. Without hesitation, the renegade Sith shoved the firearm up brusquely while simultaneously yanking Cebb’s head forward by his antennae. The bayonet slid easily up into Cebb’s throat and jaw, and as the Rodian spasmed, his muscles clenched, and he pulled the trigger. If the pike hadn’t killed him, the laser blast certainly finished the job. It all happened in an instant, yet Ahsoka was amazed she could make out even the smallest detail: the smoke wisping out of Cebb’s ears and skull, the green blood gushing out of the carotid artery splattering onto Maul’s fist, chest, and even some on his right cheek. The light and fear going out of Cebb Nereno’s large blue eyes as he crumpled to the floor like a doll made of flimsiplast once Maul let him go. Just moments before, Ahsoka had had trouble seeing clearly, her senses dulled by the newoongall toxin, but now she was hyper-focused, aware of everything around her. She tried to blink, and her eyelids fluttered. She tried it again, and this time was able to do a full blink, albeit with difficulty.

Before her, Maul was staring at her curiously. Then, as though realizing she had noticed, his expression became guarded. (How could he tell? She was wearing a mask!) The Dathomirian inhaled deeply before walking slowly forward, and as he did so, Ahsoka felt the bled kyber crystals in her lekku sleeves dim their resonance until they were completely silent and cold: dormant once more. The awareness the former Jedi had felt quickly faded, and her own white gems hummed softly against her ribcage, offering comfort, but not much else. Through her connection with them, she could tell that they, too, were drained and just about spent. This time, when she tried to blink, she was unable to do so.

Standing directly in front of her, Maul shook his head in mock sympathy. “Oh, look at you,” he sneered. “You disappoint me, Lady Tano.” The Nightbrother gestured extravagantly behind him at Cebb Nereno’s still-bleeding corpse. “Bested by that scrawny brat‽” He scoffed, glancing over his shoulder dismissively. “He was not even Force-sensitive!”

Spare me, Ahsoka wanted to snap, but of course was unable to. The last thing she needed at the moment was to be lectured by an adherent of the Dark Side who had no scruples. Her mind still couldn’t quite wrap itself around the notion of Cebb’s betrayal, let alone his death, although she had sensed his Life Force fleeting during Maul’s attack on him. She was conscious of the fact that if Maul hadn’t killed Cebb when he did, she would be just another corpse among the Rodians right now, but she also knew there had been other ways of handling the misguided youth. Not that it mattered anymore. Damn it all…!

Maul crouched beside her and took her head not-too-gently in his hands. Kriff, he’s going to snap my neck, she thought, but although he certainly looked as though he wanted to, instead he turned her face first to one side, then the other, scrutinizing her Fulcrum mask from all angles. After a few seconds, he ran the pad of his thumb down the side of the mask, by her temple, and pressed down. When that did nothing, he resorted to tapping that area instead. In response, the cybernetics within the impervium face-cover shut down, including the locking mechanisms of the securing straps that went around her head. Satisfied, the Zabrak reached around to the back of her skull and unfastened the clasps.

The first thing Ahsoka registered once Maul got her mask off was the smells. The stench of death was all around the ship, and overwhelming: the bitter scent of charred plastoid mingled with the dead Rodians’ natural fungal musk, all drowned by the odor of burnt flesh and blood. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the strong smell: Rodian body language was subtle, with the reptilian sentients expressing various emotions mainly by the release of pheromones. If only she had shut the mask’s atmospheric purifying function off, she may have guessed Cebb’s intentions sooner and avoided this entire mess. Now she had no choice but to remain at the mercy of her enemy. A foe she knew firsthand was not one to show clemency often, if ever.

The Zabrak looked over the inside of her mask briefly, his expression slightly intrigued, before letting it fall from his fingers to clatter beside her on the floor. Then, he reached over to the Togruta and took hold of her by the chin, and Ahsoka was surprised that his grip was much more careful this time, almost gentle. It was as though he hesitated to touch her, and she could sense that the contact of her skin against his made him uncomfortable. Slowly, he tilted her face back and looked directly into her half-closed eyes, studying her with more attention than he’d given her impervium mask. If she had been able to look away, she would have, for his awful golden eyes unsettled her, made something stir deep within her as in warning. Sith were quite adept at mental intrusion and psychic torture, and Ahsoka felt particularly vulnerable, given the circumstances. However, he didn’t try to peer into her mind – at least not in any way she could detect through the Force. His brow furrowed slightly for a moment – was he worried? – but then he pressed his lips together tightly and set his jaw as a spark of anger lit up his features and his passive observation became a glare. His nostrils flared a bit as he released his breath, and the corners of his lips turned up in a half-grin that never reached his eyes.

“Not very pleasant, is it?” he asked quietly. “It would be so easy to kill you now…” His sunburst eyes gleamed dangerously as he let his hand slide down to grab her by the throat. His grip was firm, but he never squeezed, although Ahsoka could tell it was due to self-restraint. The intent was there, a desire to, for sure. His voice maintained that disturbingly calm quality as he continued: “You took a gamble, Lady Tano, and played our game well, but you have lost. You set everything up for my perfect escape: I can defeat these lizards easily, leave your corpse among theirs, take your ship and disappear. No one would ever be the wiser as to what occurred here.”

He was right, but there was nothing Ahsoka could do about it anymore. How had she let things escalate to this point? How had she become so careless when she’d known exactly who she was dealing with…?

“As always, empathy trumps your reason,” Maul was saying, and she supposed there was some veracity in that statement, too, though it felt inherently wrong. He shook his head slowly and sighed. “This is why Jedi die so easily. Compassion weakens one’s convictions, you know. You lost control of everything the moment you chose to spare my life.”

He released her neck and her head drooped back down, so she was unable to see his expression in the tense seconds that transpired. She tried to sense his emotions through the Force, guess what his next intentions were, but he was keeping himself well-guarded, surrounding his Living Force with darkness. The only thing she could register were feelings of resentment and anger, kept quietly simmering below a façade of self-control.

Finally, he said, “Yet I am as arrogant and stubborn as your type is foolishly benevolent.” This time, the sigh that emanated from him sounded more like a hiss. “I never did things the easy way.” He grunted as he adjusted his stance, shifting his weight. Ahsoka figured he must still be adapting to the feel of his new prosthetics. “My boredom is your salvation, Lady Tano,” he said. Another pause before he added ruefully: “For now.”

Before the former Jedi could wonder what he meant, she felt the Zabrak’s shoulder up against her chest as he leaned forward into her. His forearm slid beneath her thighs and she was suddenly being lifted up, still in a sitting position with her torso tucked in snugly against his. She only had a few seconds to appreciate the warmth of his body before he straightened up fully and tossed her casually over his shoulder as he had on Tatooine. The impact of her stomach against his shoulder knocked the air out of her, but she was unable to gasp to recover her breath. Her right arm and lek dangled down limply while the left ones remained pinned between her side and Maul’s neck. It was highly uncomfortable. Damn asshole was probably doing that on purpose.

From her new vantage point, she really could see nothing but the floor and Maul’s new legs, and since her eyes were halfway closed, she couldn’t even make much detail of that anyway. As he began to leave the room, however, she marveled at how his upgraded appendages made hardly a sound. The clank of his feet against the floor should have been much louder, being metal against metal, yet Ahsoka felt more than heard the impact of each step.

Maul moved quickly throughout the ship, leaving Ahsoka to question how much of his surroundings the Nightbrother had been aware of the entire time since the Rodians took him. There was no hesitation in his movements or in choosing his direction of travel: he walked with the confidence of someone well acquainted with the layout of the assault boat. It was a scant few minutes before they were back at the boarding tube, and soon everything darkened as Maul carried the Togruta back into her T-6. He dropped her abruptly, and Ahsoka felt the cold of durasteel seep through her clothes against her back as she landed on the med-bay table. She wanted to shiver. Now that her shuttle’s systems were deactivated, the temperature inside had dropped considerably.

Ahsoka greatly disliked the cold and had ever since memory served her. One of the Jedi Masters who’d been key in her creche training during her formative years, Shaak Ti, had once explained to her that this was due to Togrutas having a strong connection to the environment of their home world, which had a fairly temperate climate. Master Ti – a Togruta herself – had preferred to go about barefoot, for example, yet kept herself heavily robed when indoors to keep warm, even in locations where Jedi of other species found the temperature acceptable. Ahsoka had been warned that this trait would only become more prominent as she aged. It was true. Although her outfit now was made to cover her completely in order to keep her identity secret – with long gloves that reached her biceps, knee-high boots over thick leggings and even fabric sleeves to cover her lekku – she was undeniably chilled to the bone. It made her miserable, but she supposed that was the least of her worries at the moment.

“I suggest you try and sleep,” came the Zabrak’s voice from the darkness. She could only just make out his silhouette beside the table. “I do not know how quickly the toxin will run its course through your body, but it is apt to be a while before you can move. Quite frankly, I have lost track of time myself.”

She heard him move away, but after only a few steps, he paused and returned to her side. “Ah, yes,” he said, “I almost forgot.” One of his hands slid beneath her head and down her back as though to adjust her rear lek and make sure it wasn’t pinned uncomfortably beneath her. She almost felt appreciative, except that in the next moment, she realized what he was doing when his fingers slipped into her lekku sleeves and retrieved his broken weapon. He held one of the halves before her face, close enough to where she could make out the controls. He pushed the activation button and there was a slight crackle at the severed end, but to the former Padawan’s astonishment, a crimson blade emerged from the other side, as strong and steady as any other functioning lightsaber – hers, for example.

“I am willing to bet you thought this did not work anymore,” the Dathomirian sneered, the scarlet light of the Sith blade illuminating his features and making his tattoos look particularly hellish. Yes, that is exactly what she had thought. Oh, skrog. “Worry not, we will get our proper duel yet. In the meantime, make sure you get enough rest. You are going to need it, before all is said and done.”

He then shut his saber off with a small chuckle, plunging his features into darkness once more. Ahsoka felt positively nauseous.

Immediately afterwards, Maul slid his other hand beneath her leather breastplate and – to her horror – removed her own two lightsabers. She didn’t question how he knew they were there: he’d likely sensed them through the bled crystals in his weapon, much in the same way she’d used her crystals to locate his buried saberstaff on Tatooine. “It is best if I hold on to these for you,” he said, and even though she couldn’t see his face clearly in the shadows, Ahsoka was sure he was grinning.

No!

The weak hum of the purified kyber in her weapons ceased almost from the moment the Zabrak touched them, likely as disturbed by his dark aura as she was. Ahsoka heard Maul place her lightsabers on the table beside her and then more rustling as he tinkered with something attached to the metal slab. She thought she knew what he was doing, and soon, her suspicions were confirmed as she felt pressure across her chest, pinning her arms to her side, on her midsection, thighs, and ankles. Karking Sith was applying the restraining straps to her – a bit more tightly than was necessary. She was acutely aware that he was likely paying her back for her treatment of him the day before, when their roles had been reversed. What a petty asshole, but she wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

Before leaving again, the Dathomirian stooped over and picked something up from the floor. Then, to Ahsoka’s bewilderment, she felt the weight of the heavy wool blanket being placed over her. Maul even took the other one and balled it up under her head, although he didn’t take as much care as she had in folding it neatly for proper support. The last thing she made out in the dimness of the cabin was one of his hands as he carefully brushed tattooed fingers down her eyelids, closing them completely. The forced relaxation of the neurotoxin made it impossible to open her eyes again – not that there was anything to see, she was sure.

She could sense his body heat as he leaned in close to her, felt warm breath against her brow. He had the sterile disinfectant scent of bacta on his skin, mingled with that of new hydraulic fluid and a bit of Rodian blood. Fucker hadn’t even broken into a sweat.

“I will share a secret with you, if I may,” he murmured, his voice flowing softly over her montrals like a gossamer haze. “There really was not much to do in a desert world, other than die of thirst and collect sand in my gears. I have enjoyed this little venture of ours. Such a shame it will end soon with your death. I have… missed you, Lady Tano.”

And with that, he was gone. Ahsoka heard him gather up her lightsabers again and move away from the med-bay quickly, only to stop some distance away, close to the hallway of her shuttle, if she wasn’t mistaken. She heard the crepitating fizzle as he reignited one of his blades, followed by a smooth swooshing sound and two thuds. The Togruta could smell the singed Rodian flesh even from where she was at, and she didn’t need to use much imagination to know the renegade Sith had decapitated the two mercenaries she’d stunned and bound earlier. Soon, his footfalls faded as he left the T-6, and Ahsoka was left in stillness and darkness.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed. The former spy did her best to listen for any sounds coming from her environment, trying to time Maul’s actions and predict how he’d proceed. However, once she heard him step into the boarding tube and continue on to the Corellian ship, whatever noise he might have made was simply too far to detect. She could, nonetheless, sense the extinguishment of life, understood that Maul would leave no witnesses. His presence was strong in the Force as he moved about, doling out death to the various occupants of the assault boat, yet Ahsoka could not sense any true malevolence emanating from him. This almost made her feel worse, realizing how the Dathomirian was casually decimating incapacitated foes. He was bored, he’d told her – bored! – and his comportment demonstrated as much. He wasn’t killing for self-preservation, hatred, ire, or even out of spite. This was all little more than a game to him: merely something with which to entertain himself for a while. And judging by the consecutive waves of Living Force the former Padawan could sense seeping back into the Cosmic Force, it was to be a short while indeed.

After so much death, Ahsoka sensed nothing, heard nothing. Maul never returned, nor did her shuttle’s systems reboot. Soon, spots of violets and reds began to dance in her vision even though her eyes were closed: an effect of sensory deprivation, she was sure. She began to feel herself lose focus, sleep threatening to overtake her, but she decided to forgo the Zabrak’s advice and instead try to meditate. Perhaps she could reach across the Cosmic Force and contact Luke or perhaps Obi-Wan. It was worth a try, at the very least.

Ahsoka had had her issues with the Jedi Order in the past, and for all intents and purposes, no longer considered herself a Jedi, but their teachings were valuable to her, and she genuinely believed in the ethos they instilled her with. Stilling her body was no issue at the moment, thanks to the newoongall toxin, so all she needed to do now was quiet her mind and cast away whatever internal turmoil was threatening to overtake her.

There is no emotion, she told herself, there is peace. She willed herself to believe as much, recited that one phrase over and over in her mind, undressing herself of each negative feeling she had experienced recently as she did so. She shed her misery at the betrayal and death of Cebb Nereno, accepted that his suffering was over, and she could do no more for him. There is no emotion, there is peace. Gone too, the apprehension she’d felt around the Rodian government, the distrust and unease. There is no emotion, there is –

The Zabrak’s pained scream, his haunting golden eyes filled with shame, silently pleading…

There is guilt.

Well, yes, there was that. Ahsoka realized she would never be able to be at peace until she dealt with what she’d done. She went over the past two days’ events slowly, trying to come to terms with her actions and the consequences thereof. Over the past hours, she had convinced herself that when she’d shot Maul, she had been acting on impulse and not intent, but the truth was that she had been nevertheless cruel. She didn’t so much regret wounding him as she did walking away from him soon afterwards, abandoning him to his darkness. Damn it, she hadn’t even tried to be comforting, other than immediately afterwards, when she thought he was about to expire. He had frustrated her, sure, and he was a horrible fiend, but she should have been better than him. Kinder, gentler, more patient. But she had only stabilized his condition to the best of her abilities and left him. All of her actions afterwards, once she got him back to her T-6 and realized the extent of his injuries, had just been her trying to make amends for those first few terrible hours. She had forgone the Jedi Code and purposefully made herself angry at Maul, fueled by her innate fear of him, and acted aggressively. All things she had been taught led to the Dark Side. She felt tainted. Possibly her most sincere moment towards the Zabrak had been when she’d apologized to him back at Emergency Services. Somehow, it didn’t feel like enough. She wasn’t even sure he’d been cognizant at the time.

Since she couldn’t push beyond her feelings, she used them instead, reaching out through the Cosmic Force in an honest attempt to locate the Nightbrother. She was able to detect his presence, felt his aura simmering with something akin to satisfaction. He was not focused on her. When she tried to touch his essence, she felt him bristle in annoyance. That didn’t stop her from trying again.

The blurry spots in her vision began to take shape. The reds and violets separating into two separate sets, then three, then four, too many to count. Greens and blues began to join the dots, wrapping around them. How strange. Those circles were beginning to look a lot like –

Eyes. Some wide open, others half closed. No irises, no pupils. Rodian eyes, glazed over in death. The scene before her became clearer: the Rodians were all dead and lined up next to one another, so closely, too closely to be possible. Wait, no, it was just their heads! Oh, Maul, what are you doing‽

The Zabrak was sitting in the pilot’s seat of the assault boat, his legs up on the consoles, green blood smeared all over his hands, arms, and chest. Ahsoka got the impression that had been done deliberately. He was wearing a utility belt – likely taken off one of the unfortunate deceased – and both her lightsabers were clipped to it on his left hip. On his right, one half of his saberstaff. The other half, the one with the crescent-shaped cane handle made from a piece of an Inquisitor’s ringed emitter, was clutched in his right fist upon his lap. Maul’s left hand was currently resting lightly upon her lightsabers in an absentminded sort of way, which explained why Ahsoka was able to perceive what was happening aboard the other vessel. Her spiritual connection to her kyber crystals was forming a conduit between her and the Dathomirian when he touched her weapons, binding their two perspectives together. Was he aware of it? She reached for him through the Force again, taking advantage of the temporary connection.

At first, she didn’t really form words to communicate across to him. Instead, she merely transmitted her sincere feelings of remorse: a type of wordless apology. She hadn’t wanted trouble to begin with, back on Tatooine, but she was deeply sorry that she had acted so callously when things turned awful. This guilt was not something that had merely developed because those events led her to her current circumstances: had she managed to escape Tyrius without event, she would have still found a way to make amends, although probably not in a way the renegade Sith would have found acceptable.

I have wronged you, she called out to him. I hurt you, and I am sorry. Please don’t make this worse.

The instant she created the statement in her mind, she saw Maul involuntarily flinch, a scowl overtaking his features as he glanced about himself. His Life Force radiated disdain that went beyond mere irritation this time, and he pushed back against her consciousness with impatience. He scanned the cockpit, his golden eyes darting to the doorway, as if expecting her to barge in. He made as though to stand, taking up his half of hilt and lowering his feet from the controls. He removed his left hand from her weapons and put it on the armrest of the pilot’s chair instead, pushing himself up. With the connection broken, the mirage vanished, and the Togruta’s sight was plunged back into nothingness.

She was saddened, but not entirely surprised. It would of course have been too simple to approach Maul this way. She supposed she would have to wait until the neurotoxin wore off and try to reason with the Zabrak then. She was sure she wouldn’t fare any better when the time came, but she would try.

Knowing that was all she could do for the moment being helped her compartmentalize her emotions and finally move past them. She wasn’t ignoring the guilt, just leaving it for later. In effect, it was a temporary, uneasy peace. But peace, nonetheless. This time, when she recited the first line of the mantra she had been taught by the Order, it rang truer, and she felt more at ease. She would come back to Maul. For now…

There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

Her cognizance began to grow, while simultaneously, the little outside stimulus she was still perceiving from her environment faded into irrelevance. Although she was completely unable to move, or even alter her body’s automatic functions, such as her heart rate and breathing, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. It was as though her consciousness were slipping into a plane of existence where her physical situation seemed trifling. Even Maul and his enveloping darkness wasn’t important. She would come back to him. Later, she could always come back.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Not quite, not anymore. Something larger was at play. Beyond her trivial game of wits with a former Sith Lord, beyond Luke establishing a new Jedi Order, beyond finding Thrawn and recovering Ezra Bridger, even. Larger than all these things that had seemed important to her, and yet… all were intertwined. All mattered. Before she could connect the strands of what it all meant, she became aware of another presence.

Someone was watching her.

Some thing.

Ahsoka tried to focus on who it could be, but she saw nothing before her, only infinite shadow. Only a deep, immense never-ending abyss.

Obi-Wan had been right. There was a darkness growing in the Force. It obscured everything. The Togruta struggled to find the light in all of it, found none. No, she would have to be the light. She and others like her. Luke, Leia, Ezra, Cal, Grogu… were there others? Where?

The former Jedi allowed her Living Force to shine brilliantly, let it dance like a mote upon a desolate backdrop. For a moment – a fraction of a second or a millennium, she couldn’t tell – nothing happened. Then, as in response to her signature, two gleaming specks appeared. She couldn’t calculate the distance, as there was nothing to use as a point of reference, but in time they grew larger as they approached her, apparently curious. One was a brilliant golden orange, the other a dull, sickly yellow. They bobbed leisurely in tandem as they got nearer, and when they were close enough, Ahsoka was able to discern what they were: a pair of eyes that didn’t blink. It was hard to imagine that both belonged to the same creature, yet that seemed to be the case. The flaming orange eye had a slit pupil, while the pallid yellow one had none, and no iris to speak of either. It was akin to those dead Rodian eyes she had seen on the severed heads Maul collected, except this orb was not glazed over in blind death.

As the eyes got nearer, the light of her Force signature illuminated the creature they belonged to. Ahsoka was paralyzed once more – not just her physical body back at the med-bay this time – as a monstrous form began to take shape around those eyes: the head larger than her entire body, organic and yet not. The skull was long, with a reptilian form and sharp, curved fangs, but aside from the scales covering its skin, this creature had bony outgrowths coming out at odd angles, like thorns. Its coloration was nearly impossible to distinguish, for although the scaled skin was the color of ashen sand, the spikes ranged in color from sepias to greys that got darker towards the tips, allowing the beast to blend into the surrounding perpetual shadow. In all her travels throughout the galaxy, and the extensive knowledge she’d garnered from her studies at the Jedi Temple, Ahsoka had never beheld a creature such as this. She did not have the slightest clue as to what it could be, but she perceived its wickedness clearly.

It stared her down for a moment before taking another step towards her. When it blinked slowly, the Togruta noticed the crusted fissures all along its hide, small cracks lacing in between the thorns and seeping watery blood. It moved ponderously because it was in pain, and any sort of movement hurt it, but Ahsoka could see the animal derive some type of pleasure from its suffering. It reminded her of Maul’s look of self-satisfaction after she’d shoved her thumb into his wound. It was the same expression. The exact one.

“We just need to make sure the Sith stay dead,” Obi-Wan had told her.

Oh, Master. It’s too late for that…

The creature before her bared its teeth in a menacing grin. Ahsoka was not afraid – not of this thing, not yet – but she was concerned. It was wrapped up in darkness but did not feel too powerful. If anything, it was wounded, barely struggling to exist. For now, all it was able to do was observe. But it felt to her as though it was merely building up its strength, gathering…

Gathering what?

“Just as the Jedi Order had the largest wealth of knowledge of the Light Side of the Force, so too did the Sith amass techniques and lore for the Dark Side.”

Oh.

Oh, you’re the one who –

She suddenly heard a shriek, shrill and angry, coming from somewhere behind her. The sound seemed to return to the Togruta the ability to move, and Ahsoka spun around in place just in time to see two silver orbs zooming in towards her. They were approaching fast, from above. Ahsoka ducked barely in time and felt wind swirl over the top of her montrals as the giant flying beast slammed into the reptile. The spiked serpentine creature fell backwards into the dark chasm it had come from, letting out a pained and furious roar. It was only then that the Togruta recognized what it was, for although she had never seen a living specimen, the sound it made was well documented: it was a krayt dragon from Tatooine.

The winged animal that had attacked it was a blur of leathery skin and dark fur, and it flapped its clawed wings erratically as it took swipes at the krayt dragon with taloned feet. It looked like some type of giant flying mammal… a bat of some kind. This creature was unknown to her as well, and enormous: she could probably fit comfortably in one of its clawed feet or sit atop its round head. Those silver orbs were its eyes, small compared to the rest of its squat face. It, too, radiated darkness in the Force. It reminded her of the dreaded gargoyle form which the Son of Mortis took, yet it looked more natural, like fauna from some exotic world rather than an ethereal being. Obi-Wan mentioned various Dark Side groups emerging, all vying for the Emperor’s throne. Could these two, then, represent those factions?

Ahsoka was so absorbed in her musings, that she didn’t pay enough attention to the fight before her. The krayt dragon lunged at her, snapping its jaws, blood flowing freely from a thousand tiny cracks on its skin. Before it could reach her, she was snatched up and out of the way by that gigantic bird-bat, which flew her some distance away only to slam her down hard against ground she couldn’t even see. It kept its foot upon her snugly and yet made no attempt to crush her. Instead, all Ahsoka could feel was the oppressive warmth of its body as it drew her closer against its underbelly, almost protectively. It screeched in the direction of the collapsed reptile, making the very air reverberate with the Dark Side. The krayt dragon responded with a winded roar and retreated into the shadows, its eyes fixated upon the bat. Although they were supposedly non-sentient creatures, the former Jedi could understand their animalistic language through the Force:

Mine! the bat had screamed at the dragon, all indignant rage.

Daemon! roared the krayt dragon in response.

Ahsoka struggled feebly, but she wasn’t really trying to get free. Between the two creatures, there was something oddly comforting about the one who now held her captive. It was warm, at least. Its ire produced a heat that was familiar and somewhat cozy, as twisted as that seemed. From the krayt dragon, all the Togruta registered was cold, calculating evil. Patient malevolence. She wanted nothing to do with that thing.

As Ahsoka squirmed minimally within the curled foot of the bat, she saw another fleck of light, floating far away above all three, circling them. This light was pure white and grew brighter as it began to descend. The krayt dragon hissed from the shadows, and its disgusting, mismatched eyes blinked out of her perception. The winged behemoth, too, hunkered down away from the growing brightness, its fur bristling uncomfortably. It squinted up with its silver eyes and opened its beaked mouth to reveal tiny, sharp, triangular teeth menacingly. Still, as the light got ever closer, it finally released Ahsoka and backed away a few steps, allowing the outcast Jedi to sit up on the ground. Splaying its leathery wings out in an unsuccessful attempt to intimidate the light source, it susurrated quietly: My prey.

Ahsoka wanted to laugh: the creature sounded almost petulant. She apparently wasn’t the only one who was amused. Above them, and quickly descending, the orb of pure light hooted gaily. The former Padawan grinned and straightened up into a kneeling position, tilting her face back and raising her arms in recognition.

Morai!

The convor swooped down and landed on one of the Togruta’s outstretched hands, ignoring the angry huff from the bird-bat. As the light of their two auras mingled and grew brighter together, Ahsoka brought the white-and-green bird to her chest, scratching her plumed head gently. Morai trilled with pleasure, then looked up at her with solemn green eyes.

You’ve slept enough, the convor said.

What? Have I been sleeping?

Morai stretched her wings and flew up, bringing her round face directly in front of Ahsoka’s. She leaned over, resting her feathered head against the former Jedi’s brow.

Wake up, child.

Ahsoka’s eyes snapped open. Everything was still dark, and for a moment, she thought she was back in the winged creature’s talons, for she was warm, and tucked in much too tightly for comfort. She could feel the bat’s digits squeezing her to the point of severe unease. Like ligatures strapping her down.

Her thoughts began to sort themselves out, and she pieced together the events of the past few hours. No, this blackness was not all-encompassing and prevalent as the abyss had been in which she’d seen the two dark creatures fight. She was able to detect slight traces of light, and the grey haze around her began to sharpen into focus as her eyes adjusted. She was inside the cabin of her T-6, tied down to the med-bay table. All systems appeared to be switched off still. Had her mainframe not recovered yet? She wondered where Maul was. Not necessarily wanting him to realize she was awake, Ahsoka pulled her Living Force closely around herself, dampening her aura. Keeping herself very still, she began to listen to the Cosmic Force around her, as she had back in Obi-Wan’s home. There was nothing in the immediate vicinity of the shuttle’s interior that resonated, no forms of life at all. However, there was still a slight odor about the place. Rodian pheromones and another scent she couldn’t place. It was comforting, though a bit stale and acrid. Perhaps her mind was still occupied on the toxin-induced dream she’d had. She could have sworn that giant bat smelled just like this musk.

Ahsoka blinked a few times, just to make sure she could. Her eyelids felt heavy, and a crusty layer of dried rheum was making her lashes stick together. Her facial muscles felt numb, but she was able to move. She started exercising them: puffing out her cheeks, wrinkling her nose and scrunching up her brow before wiggling her eye-ridges. Overall, just making what she was sure were very silly faces. Still, it helped.

Afterwards, she rolled her shoulders as much as the restraints allowed her, moving her head from side to side. The stiffness in her joints was terrible, and she longed to get off the metal slab and stretch properly. Still, with no power in the ship…

Hm, she would take a risk. It should be okay, since she hadn’t felt anyone’s presence onboard. She was certain that enough charge had been passed on to her shuttle from the Corellian boat that her systems should start up when prompted.

“Hey, Doc?”

Almost instantaneously, the ship’s medical A.I. hologram activated, and the familiar projection hovered beside her, near her head.

“How may I be of assistance?”

Ahsoka grinned. It worked! “Actually, you just being around is plenty. Although…” she squirmed against the restraints. “Are you able to remove the binders pinning me to this table?”

“I was not aware that the security implementations of the medical bay had been activated,” the holograph stated. “They must have been applied by hand. Before I can deactivate them, protocol dictates I need permission from the administrating party or the commanding officer, for the safety of both patient and crew.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Doc, I’m the owner of this ship, remember? Can’t get much higher up in command than that.”

A pause while the A.I. did a quick scan of her face. “That is correct,” the projection replied. “Both facial and voice recognition are a match, Captain Tano. Do I have your permission to remove your restraints?”

“You have my full permission,” Ahsoka stated, torn between exasperation and amusement. The hologram nodded and soon the Togruta heard a click as the binding strap clamps were deactivated. She felt instant relief as the fastenings loosed up around her. She quickly sat up, casting the Grov wool blanket off her and rubbing at her arms, popping her wrists as well. She winced as she felt blood flow back properly into her limbs. “Thanks, Doc,” she said appreciatively.

“Do you require anything else?”

“No, thank you. I’m good.”

“Very well.”

The A.I. nodded curtly once more and its image disappeared back into the holoprojector. With its faint glow gone, the Togruta was left in near darkness again. She let the blanket fall to the ground and gingerly slid off the metal slab, carefully placing her weight first on one leg, then the other. Her entire body was sore, and she felt weak, unsure if she would be able to keep her own balance. Although standing was painful and taxing on her ankles and knees, after stretching out a bit, she was able to regain her composure.

She walked over to the cockpit and switched on the core matrix only, making sure to keep all other systems off in order to avoid detection from the Corellian assault boat’s systems. As the ship’s computer started up, she glanced out the viewing window, and her mouth fell agape. It was dark outside, but it was not the blackness of space that greeted her. This darkness was terrestrial. She could see a dark sky with countless stars twinkling high above. It was much too obscure to see what type of topography the T-6 had landed in, but there was no outline of vegetation along the horizon. From what she could make out, all around were low, sloping hills. Perhaps they were dunes.

Skrog, how long had she been out?

“You’ve slept enough,” Morai had said. Yes, she could see that now. Where was she? She tapped her foot impatiently as the computer whirred to life. She had a guess as to what planet she was on but didn’t want to consider it.

The moment the ship’s matrix was back online, Ahsoka checked the travel logs. The first thing she noticed was the date: it had been almost thirty-nine hours since she’d attempted to leave the Tyrius system and engaged with the Goa-Ato. Nearly two standard days, which according to Cebb Nereno, was about how long newoongall toxin had an effect on an adult Rodian body. Ahsoka wasn’t sure if Togrutas naturally processed the venom more rapidly, or perhaps her Force-sensitivity had something to do with her quicker recovery. Either way, she obviously didn’t purge the neurotoxin from her body soon enough. Thirty-nine standard hours was plenty of time for Maul to have orchestrated some elaborate plan of escape, or worse. He did, after all, want her dead. Or so he claimed. He had probably flown them to some backwater planet in order to keep things discreet. The former Jedi quickly scanned the coordinates on her navicomp screen to figure out where in the galaxy she was, exactly.

Tatooine.

She was back on Tatooine.

Ahsoka groaned. She had figured as much from the moment she saw the little bit of terrain visible outside, even though she couldn’t see the moons from where she stood. Of course Maul would return to Tatooine! Hadn’t that been her greatest concern at the thought of him escaping and taking control of the T-6? From the small bit of information she’d gleaned off her brief conversations with the Zabrak, he had been living on the desert planet for years at this point, since following Ezra Bridger there. He likely knew the desert sands as well as a native. It made sense that he would return to a place that gave him the largest advantage over her.

At first, she had thought he wanted to disappear again, fade back into the dunes to continue doing… Force knows what he had been up to before she ran into him again. Nothing good, surely. He had said he’d severed all ties to the black market, that even the current leadership of Crimson Dawn thought him defunct. She wasn’t sure if she believed that, but he really hadn’t seemed interested in contacting them, even when it could have helped assure his survival. Now, however… She shifted uncomfortably in place as she continued to go over the readings of her travel log, arms crossed over her chest tightly. The more information she got from her ship’s matrix, the greater her sense of dread became.

According to the travel logs, they’d arrived at the desert planet twenty-eight hours before. Subtracting the amount of time it would take to journey back to the Tatoo system if he took the same route she had, that meant Maul had not left Tyrius immediately after he’d killed the Rodians. She remembered that aside from the assault boat, there had still been one LPS standing by beside the Mynock -class. Perhaps they’d given him some kind of trouble. Whether they caused the delay or not, Ahsoka was sure those poor bastards still caught the worse end of the bargain.

Now that the main computer was back on, the Togruta activated the security protocols, including a sensory sweep of the entire shuttle; just in case Maul was onboard and was merely closing himself off from the Cosmic Force the way she was. While the matrix began to run the procedures, she walked back to the med-bay. She rifled through the supplies in the cabinet beside the table and took the pack of wipes she’d used earlier to clean Maul’s face and now used one on her own. The moist cloths helped remove the dried discharge from her eyes and refreshed her face. Next, she grabbed a phial of stim serum. Actually, she was hungry, but the glowing aquamarine liquid would have to do for the moment being. This was the second consecutive time she was drinking recovery fluid instead of a meal. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to consume stims frequently, as the liquid lost its potency if the body became accustomed to it, yet she needed to recuperate fast while also not burdening her digestive and endocrine systems by eating a full meal. Not to mention the time restraints. She needed to find Maul as quickly as possible. Not that she was sure what she was going to do once she did. She was completely unarmed. He’d taken her lightsabers, and even if he hadn’t, she wasn’t keen on fighting him again. Her hands instinctively went down to her hips, even though she knew her weapons weren’t there.

That is how she found out her belt had been taken as well. Great. Well, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. It would’ve been quite careless of the Dathomirian if he’d left her with any of her equipment. She was shocked he’d left her armored gauntlets on over her gloves, as it were.

The Togruta took some comfort in the fact, and she quickly checked over the forearm coverings to make sure the electrical components in them were still functional. Seeing that they were, she resynched them up to the shuttle’s matrix. Afterward, she checked the hidden flat compartments on her right gauntlet and was pleased to see the small blade on the interior of her wrist was still there, and the hypodermic needle on the lateral side remained as well. Ahsoka breathed a sigh of relief. So, not completely unarmed, then. These two tiny weapons were her last resort – one she hadn’t needed to use in years, quite honestly, to the point where she’d almost forgotten they were there. In a fully drawn-out battle they were rather useless, but if pressed into a tight spot, they were good to have on hand for close-range hand-to-hand combat. The small knife could be deadly if she got in near enough to a jugular vein, and the needle administered a tranquilizer dose large enough to bring down a Wookie.

Still, these wouldn’t be enough against the renegade Sith, she knew. So Ahsoka walked a few steps over to the maintenance pit and found her rucksack where she’d left it beside the cleansing tank. She’d taken the gaffi stick from the tank when she’d dumped her clothes and cloak in to wash and left it on the floor beside the backpack, but she wasn’t surprised to find that it was gone. No matter. She wasn’t looking for that anyway. From what she recalled from the brief amount of time she’d handled the gaderffii, it had a certain heft she wasn’t used to wielding, and she knew she’d be rather clumsy with it. She couldn’t afford ungainliness now. Instead, she opened up her travel bag and retrieved her walking staff, which she had collapsed into its compressed size before leaving Obi-Wan’s hut.

The rod was made of sturdy, lightweight Alanciari alabaster segments that fit neatly into one another and would lock together once extended to their full capacity, leaving the staff with a tapered form that was barely noticeable at first glance. There was a round hoop at the top that housed the simple spring mechanism: this released the sections from their fixed positions within each other, allowing the instrument to be carried as either a simple wand, clipped to one’s belt, or as a full-length staff that was taller than she was at her montrals. It was a convenient aid she used for walking on unstable terrain but had also been known to wield as a weapon on occasion. Holding the shortened version in her hands now, the former Padawan smiled to herself. She remembered the day she purchased it: Morai had been accompanying her at the time. When Ahsoka had stopped at an antique stand in one of the marketplaces on Cuipernam, the convor had instantly taken a liking to the thing and used it as a perch, refusing to leave it, going so far as to wrap her prehensile tail around it when Ahsoka tried to shoo her off of it. In order to avoid trouble with the shopkeeper, the Togruta had bought the item while apologizing profusely, and left in haste. No sooner had they left the stand, than the avian trickster had taken flight once more, cooing gaily, leaving the Togruta with an unwanted item in her hands that, at the time, she thought to be rather useless. Ahsoka had then lost track of Morai for months before she ran into her again, just before contacting Sabine Wren to begin their search for Ezra. She always felt comforted when holding the staff.

She kept the rod at its compact size and walked towards the entrance of her T-6. The scan for lifeforms aboard had completed, with the shuttle’s matrix beaming the information over to her gauntlet’s computer. Ahsoka looked over the readings, noting that effectively, there was nothing living inside the ship, save for herself. She had the shuttle send over the exact landing coordinates, trying to ascertain where on the planet Maul had taken her. Not that it would make much of a difference. Tatooine was sparsely populated, but it was good to know if there was any form of civilization nearby. Somehow, she doubted it.

According to the ship’s information, the nearest population was a small town called Mos Doba. It looked to be little more than a few buildings clustered together for protection. Ahsoka had never heard of it. In fact, she was completely unfamiliar with any of the marked terrain. She wasn’t even in Tatooine’s first quadrant anymore. It seemed as though the Jundland Wastes, the Dune Seas or anywhere else Maul may have been hiding in for all those years were on the other side of the planet. Why land on the opposite hemisphere? She told herself it didn’t really matter, but she was uneasy, nonetheless. Still, seeing as how there was no one onboard the shuttle with her, she supposed there was no other alternative but to disembark herself and begin her search for the Zabrak. Obi-Wan’s message still echoed in her mind, and the urgency of his tone more so. With a resigned sigh, the Togruta pressed the controls beside the main door of the T-6, and the boarding ramp lowered with a hiss.

The night air that greeted her was crisp and cool, and Ahsoka shivered slightly. She looked around as she stepped out onto the sand, silvery pale and sparkling under the dim light of the three moons. It felt like she was walking on stardust. She couldn’t make out any tracks on the ground, but that only meant she had been left alone long enough for the desert winds to sweep away any trace. A part of her wanted to unwrap her Living Force from around herself and reach out, displaying her aura as she had in her vision. However, she knew that to be a bad idea, as it left her at a disadvantage, open and vulnerable to a surprise attack. Why make it easier for the Dathomirian to strike her down unawares? She closed her eyes and tried to feel his signature in the Cosmic Force, but once again, there was nothing. He couldn’t have possibly been lying to her about wishing for her death, or had he? Surely he hadn’t left her there in order to disappear once more? She didn’t know if that would be worse than having him waiting to ambush her.

She breathed deeply and began to walk.

Chapter Text

Ahsoka was unsure if the direction she was taking – to the south – was the correct one. Down that way was a sloping sand dune that seemed taller than the rest, and she hoped it would offer her a better vantage point from which to decide her best route. It took her about twenty minutes to reach it, and another fifteen to climb it, even after extending her staff to its full length and using it as support. By the time she reached the top, her body had warmed up to the point where sweat misted her brow, and she was panting slightly. The sand was difficult to navigate, as though it were trying to swallow her feet with every step she took. Still, at least the trek had served to ease the stiffness out of her limbs.

Even before she reached the top, she could smell burning brush, and she quickened her pace as much as she could. From her spot atop the dune, the Togruta looked out over the desertscape and instantly detected a campfire some distance below, on the other side of the sandbank. A lone figure huddled around the small bonfire, bundled up in a sand-colored cloak. It had a darker hood obscuring its face. Despite knowing someone was there, seeing with her own eyes, she could still detect no aura emanating from this person through the Force, only the barest flitter of natural Living Force which all organic beings possessed. She approached cautiously, noting that the person did not stir or react as she did so. Once she came closer, she saw the black tribal patterns decorating the scarlet hands clasped tightly together over metallic knees. How was he doing that? Even when she dampened her own aura, Ahsoka was never able to completely snuff out her Force connection in that way. It was no wonder the Zabrak had remained undetected for so long.

“Maul…?” she asked hesitantly once she was standing directly before him, opposite the fire. She leaned on her staff uncertainly.

The Dathomirian raised his obscured face, and the eyes that met hers in the dark were most definitely the eyes of a Sith Lord. The flames of the campfire dancing between them couldn’t match the gold ferocity of the Nightbrother’s glare. He said nothing for a while, but Ahsoka felt the tiniest rustle of his aura bristle in the Force. “You certainly took your time,” he finally said.

The Togruta chose to ignore the comment and asked instead, “May I sit down?”

The Zabrak frowned and rose to his feet. His robe fell open a bit, and Ahsoka was able to see that he had gotten his hands on more Tusken garb: he had donned a brown tunic and wore tanned short pants over his prosthetics. He had secured the cuffs around his knees with strips of leather. In all, he looked rather similar to how she’d first seen him outside Obi-Wan’s abandoned home, sans the mask and humidifying apparatus. No gloves this time, either.

Glowering at her, the Nightbrother growled: “Why waste time on societal pleasantries and idle conversation that will get us nowhere?” He reached into the folds of his garments and retrieved her two sabers from the Rodian utility belt he still wore. Tossing them over the fire to her, he stated flatly, “Let’s get this over with.”

Ahsoka caught her weapons, balancing her staff in the crook of her arm. She clutched her lightsabers to her chest and cradled them, feeling the presence of the purified kyber within begin to hum softly as they recognized her touch. She was a bit puzzled that Maul would return them to her so casually. Why take them, in that case?

“It is disconcerting when someone steals something that belongs to you, is it not?” the Dathomirian said, as in response to her thoughts.

Ahsoka frowned. “You abandoned that saberstaff, gave it to Obi-Wan. Isn’t that what you said? It was no longer yours.”

“I will not argue semantics now,” the Dark Sider growled. “Prepare yourself.”

The Togruta sighed. Gripping both sabers in one hand, she moved the other up to the ring atop her staff and pressed the button inside, tapping the rod down hard against the sand as she did so. It immediately collapsed down to its reduced size and Ahsoka tucked it into her breastplate.

“Listen, Maul,” she began, taking firm hold of her weapons in each hand and dropping her arms down to her sides, “I mentioned this to you before, but I’m really not looking for trouble.”

“Then you should never have come to Tatooine.”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but we do,” he replied, shrugging out of his cloak, and letting it fall to the sand. He too, took one half of his cleaved hilt in each hand. He began to circle the fire over to her. Ahsoka took a few steps back warily.

“Do both of those work?” she asked, trying to keep her tone lighthearted.

“We will find out soon enough.”

The former Padawan frowned, her brow furrowed slightly. There was something still nagging at her conscience, had been for a while. Seeing the Zabrak moving towards her with such determination brought those sentiments to the forefront. She raised her hand, palm out, still holding her saber, and lifted two fingers and her thumb off the hilt, unravelling her aura fully from around herself and pushing back gently with the Force. It was only enough to rustle Maul’s tunic, but he stopped and regarded her through squinted eyes, mistrustful.

“I’m truly sorry for how I treated you before,” the Togruta said. “I should never have been so harsh towards you while you were defenseless and in pain.”

The Dathomirian only grunted. “You have apologized three times now. That’s disappointing, as you had told me not to expect one. I did not think you would go back on your word.”

“I know when to admit I was wrong, pride be damned,” Ahsoka answered measuredly. “Which is why I’m telling you this again as well: I really don’t wish to fight you, Maul.”

For a moment, all he did was look at her, his expression strangely blank. Then, in a slow crescendo she felt through the Force, she could sense his aura unfurl. The darkness touched her Living Force: powerful and ominous. Maul’s features – almost serene up until that point – began to harden as his resentment grew. She could feel his anger, saw how he was letting it – no, making it – take over him completely. That overbearing ire she had found strangely absent until that point was suddenly flowing out of him in torrents. The bled kyber crystals in those hilt pieces reverberated with it, compounded it. She wasn’t touching his weapon anymore; strange, then, that she could sense them still. The Nightbrother growled, his golden eyes flashing. “Then die where you stand,” he said with a snarl.

He lunged at her, sparks flying out of his cleaved saberstaff as both halves ignited. Yes, both halves. Wonderful.

Ahsoka leapt out of the way easily, rolling to the side and ending in a defensive stance a few meters away. She took in a deep breath and ignited her sabers, holding the longer of the two light blades in front of her body, using the Shien reverse grip. Her shorter shoto saber she held behind her with her left hand, also gripped in reverse in order to offer adequate cover for her back in case the Nightbrother decided to spring over her and attack from behind.

He did no such thing, instead charging at her full-on, his arms behind him, crimson blades touching each other at his back. He was using Shien, and that bothered her, for she realized instinctively that he was doing so to mock her. It might have come across like a foolish move on his part that left him fully open to attack, especially if he wasn’t familiar with the reversed grip, but the former Jedi knew better. This was probably the most aggressive form of attack Juyo offered, allowing the user to gain momentum in the swing once they brought those sabers forward. She anticipated the Zabrak would do this just before reaching her and she crouched, readying herself to move out of the way at the last moment. He was generating so much dark energy, she thought she saw the very air ripple around him. There was no chance she would be able to parry that blow. She had only a few seconds to guess which angle he’d attack her from, so she could evade the strike.

When Maul was within mere centimeters from her, he splayed both arms out wide to his sides while rotating his wrists. This caused the lightsabers to form wide arcs at his side, so whichever way she decided to dodge, she would be met with a blade. He was raising one knee as he did this, aiming for her face. If she tried to leap to either side, he’d cut her down. Move forward and he’d bash her skull in with his upgraded prosthetics. A backflip would leave her torso exposed to those carmine sabers, which she could see – as though in slow motion – were still rotating while he raised them up over his head. He was planning to stab down into her brain. For all he’d said of wanting a rematch to alleviate his boredom, he certainly wasn’t wasting time finishing things. She wondered what had changed to make him act so vehemently.

In those fractions of a second, time nevertheless slowed for the Togruta as she focused in the Force. She noticed all these details in the Zabrak’s movements: saw that his form was excellent, his attack basically flawless. It didn’t matter which move she made; she would get injured with this strike. The awareness she had of this didn’t frighten her, quite the contrary. There seemed to be something calming about accepting the inevitable outcome.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Yes, she knew this was going to hurt, but pain was not the end. She would not shy from it, but rather accept it, and continue. If she could not avoid the result, she would at least control it.

Ahsoka jumped straight up to meet the Sith’s blades, twisting her body in the air as she did so, like a bird attempting to take flight. One of the crimson lightsabers cut into her upper thigh, close to her right hip, but her own blade was ready, deflecting its downward momentum off to the side. The saber ended up slicing her skin rather than plunging deep into her leg, as would have otherwise happened. The heat of the weapon was so immense that she didn’t register pain immediately. As she rotated mid-air, her left leg came up and around, her boot making impact with the side of Maul’s face. She then used his shoulder as a launching point and catapulted herself over behind him. A series of backflips created ample space between them, allowing her to catch her breath and assess the situation.

As the Zabrak righted himself, growling, Ahsoka took stock of the fight. She’d learned two valuable lessons in this one strike alone. For one, Maul really meant to kill her. In her previous confrontations with the Sith Lord, the battles had had a different feel to them, almost like sparring. On Mandalore, he hadn’t been trying to kill her, but rather teach her a lesson, as he had put it, with the end goal of convincing her to join his side. When she’d run into him years later in one of the enclaves of the Crimson Dawn, they hadn’t even really fought. That had just been a series of terse words with some shoving around. Then on Malachor… well, he’d almost seemed playful then. Despite the danger of the Inquisitors and the impending dread of knowing Vader could show up at any moment, there had been almost an ambience of lightheartedness on his part in her fight against the renegade Dark Sider. There was no mistaking his intentions now. She would do well to remember, she told herself, that this was the same person who cut down several Jedi Masters during the course of the Clone Wars.

The second thing she realized was just how strong Maul was in the Force. She had always felt the two were more or less evenly matched, as their previous encounters ended with either her gaining the upper hand, or in a stalemate. He was by far the more experienced of the two in regard to combat prowess and training: he had, after all, been raised to be an assassin, a tool of destruction for the Sith. However, her abilities were nothing to scoff at either, and having been Padawan to the most powerful Jedi the Order had ever produced meant her abilities had to be up to par in order to keep up with Anakin.

She had always been able to hold her own against Maul, and perhaps that had given her more confidence than was warranted. She could see now, that when the Zabrak really set his mind to it, he could be ruthless and deadly, cutting through her defenses easily, or, in this case, not even allowing her time to set any up. She had often asked herself in the past, if perhaps the Nightbrother had been merely toying with her during their encounters, but she had quickly brushed the notion aside. He’d seemed winded when she fought him on Mandalore, so she knew she was actually giving him trouble. Yet when he’d brought down that Star Destroyer… That impressive display of raw power in the Force was not to be taken lightly, and had made her uneasy for months afterwards, haunting her memories.

Now, the Togruta stood on unsteady legs, pain starting to radiate all along her right side, stemming from her cauterized wound. She couldn’t allow him to cut her again. This much at least, she understood. She could sense the Dathomirian’s Living Force roiling around him turbulently. He was beyond incensed: this was bloodlust glimmering in his eyes. If she allowed his aura to infect her, as those bled kyber crystals had during their previous fight, she was as good as dead. She had to be his foil, stand at the opposite end of the Force in order to maintain the balance.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow its thunderous pounding, taking in deep, steadying breaths. This time, when the Zabrak charged at her, she was ready. She opened her eyes and deftly moved out of his trajectory by somersaulting to the side. She kept her blades ignited and close up against her body in a defensive form but did not move to engage him. She did her best to radiate tranquility to counter his ire, reached across the sands to him and allowed him to feel the calm light of her Living Force.

This only served to anger the Nightbrother further. With a furious roar, he brought his sabers down upon her in consecutive slashing motions she was barely able to parry in time. He was pushing her back, making her retreat several steps, yet still, Ahsoka didn’t attempt to fight back. After a few seconds, she began to pick up on the rhythm of the battle, and her blocks of his strikes became steadier, more solid. With each impact of his lightsabers against hers, the Togruta was able to sense Maul’s wrath, but as had occurred before, during her Force trance, she felt surprisingly detached. This was trivial, meaningless compared to what was coming, yet connected somehow. She didn’t know how to relate this to the Zabrak. How she wished he would put those damn crystals down and reason with her…!

And just like that, she recognized what was happening, why this conflict felt so different from any other she’d had against him – including the most recent brawl they’d had outside Obi-Wan’s home. The issue was in those bled kyber crystals. She remembered their malevolent hissing in her mind when she’d carried them around, realized that Maul’s anger was being joined by this external power that appeared to be goading him on, making his ire grow. He wasn’t controlling them. Quite the contrary. Hadn’t he warned her that those gems could affect her personality? What made her believe they wouldn’t do the same to him? If she wanted to put an end to their fight without resorting to maiming him, potentially wounding him mortally again in the process, she needed to disarm him. Yeah, easier said than done.

“Quit dancing around and fight!” Maul spat at her vehemently, one of his blades missing her face by centimeters.

“Don’t feel like it,” Ahsoka replied, leaping out of the reach of his swing once more. “It’s much more entertaining to watch you burn yourself out, Gramps.”

With a thunderous Force scream, the Zabrak resumed his attacks: a rapid flurry of stabs, slashes, and wide arcs that at first glance seemed erratic, unorganized, but that Ahsoka recognized as an advanced form of Juyo. She always found it difficult to counter, and Maul was – by far – the most proficient practitioner of that lightsaber form she’d ever faced. And save for Master Windu, probably the best she’d seen. She supposed she was lucky she’d never encountered Sidious in battle.

Remembering how she was able to separate the Dathomirian from his saberstaff on Mandalore by moving up against him, the former Padawan shut off her longer lightsaber, leaving her with only her shoto for defense. She wanted Maul to come in close; it was the only way she would even get a chance to take those Sith crystals out of commission. The Zabrak took the bait, moving in nearer to her and coming down on her defense hard. After only a few strikes, her left arm was burning with fatigue, her connection to the Force the only thing that was allowing her to withstand the onslaught. As much as she wanted to retreat in order to get her bearings, she didn’t move away, letting him push against her. She dug her heels into the sand in order to not take a step back, and now his body was so close she could feel his breath against her face as he huffed in fury. At least it wasn’t olid as before, she told herself. She would have to thank the surgical droids from Emergency Services sometime.

With his two blades pressing down on her one arm, the Togruta deemed the moment perfect to implement her plan. Bringing up her right hand behind her left forearm, Ahsoka reignited her longer saber – which she was still holding in a reversed grip – and the beam of light emerged in a brilliant ray of white that punctured the two pieces of the Dathomirian’s hilt.

As she had predicted, Maul’s blades sputtered and fizzled out, smoke rising out of the ruined pieces of what had been left of his weapon. Ahsoka couldn’t help but grin at her foe but was not foolish enough to shut her own lightsabers down. Instead, she pulled away, then aimed a roundhouse kick at the Zabrak: she needed to knock him down and out for a bit, give enough time for the bled crystals’ influence to dissipate.

The problem was the Dathomirian hadn’t agreed to any such plan. With a growl, he dropped the hilt segments to the floor and caught her foot as it came up towards his stomach, twisting it hard to the side. Ahsoka had to move in the same direction, lest he snap her ankle. She flipped over and onto the sandy ground, rolling away. She was forced to shut down her sabers after all, or else she would have been burned by her own weapons in the fall. She couldn’t right herself up again immediately because her leg now felt as though it were on fire from the effort of the kick as well as the strong grappling move Maul had used to counter it, all aggravating her thigh injury.

The Zabrak was upon her quickly, stomping over with long strides. He grabbed her hard by her right lek and yanked her up, causing her to yelp involuntarily. Togrutas’ lekku weren’t as delicate as a Twi’lek’s, but were extremely sensitive appendages, nonetheless. The pain was so sudden and strong, Ahsoka’s vision momentarily swam out of focus. Acting on instinct more than anything else, the former Padawan struck out at her opponent’s arm with the back of her left forearm, pushing it to the side. At the same time, she blocked an oncoming strike with her right, her armored gauntlet taking the brunt of the impact from Maul’s fist.

She kicked at him again, this time her boot making contact with the Nightbrother’s solar plexus. She hurled him back as hard as she could, enhancing the blow with her Living Force, but Maul refused to let go of her long lek, and took her with him as he was thrown back several meters. He only released her as they both flew through the air, using her own momentum to fling her down with more strength.

Ahsoka landed some distance from him, on her back. The desert sands did little to soften her fall, and the Togruta flopped over hastily, gasping. That slam had completely knocked the breath out of her. Her head was pounding, and she was disoriented. No one had ever grabbed her lekku that way before: it was an unspoken societal rule that one simply didn’t attack people by their head-tails or tendrils, be they Mikkian, Nautolan, Ozrelanso, Togruta, Twi’lek or any other species. It was a highly barbaric and offensive thing to do; there was nothing more humiliating than to be dragged about by one’s lekku. Which fit the profile of what Ahsoka knew the Nightbrother to be: a brutal creature, no better than a vicious beast wrapped in a veneer of civility.

More than the physical pain of it, the shame of the action made Ahsoka’s eyes water, and she stood shakily, doing her best not to cry. How could he? How dare he‽ The internal composure she had achieved by focusing on the Force had fallen apart with this single act. There would be no reasoning with Maul, she realized bitterly, and she reignited her sabers, awaiting the Zabrak’s next move.

Except it never came. Ahsoka rubbed the heel of her fist into her eyes and looked around. Maul was kneeling on the sand where he had landed, doubled over, and breathing heavily. Even from the distance she was at, she could see his frame shaking. He began to retch violently, sticking his fists into the ground to keep himself from falling face-first into the sand. Ahsoka wasn’t sure what to make of it. Even though she’d kicked him as hard as she could, she didn’t think it would cause too grievous an injury. Then again, he had just undergone surgery which essentially reconstructed part of his digestive system. Dank farrik. Keeping her sabers ignited and at the ready, she cautiously limped towards the Nightbrother.

By the time she was within arm’s reach of him, Ahsoka could clearly sense the Zabrak’s distress. His dark aura was unfocused, unstable. Perhaps it wasn’t that kick that was making him ill, after all. Reluctantly, the Togruta lowered her guard, bringing her sabers back down to her sides. She couldn’t think of what to do. Maul heaved one more time, then vomited bile onto the sand. The Togruta wrinkled her nose at the noxious smell of gastric acid. The Dathomirian shuddered with the effort.

“I am – I did not intend –” he gasped, obviously shaken. He pushed himself back and curled into himself, scooting back away from the ex-Jedi. Refusing to look up at her, the Zabrak instead put his arms up over his head, as though trying to hide. For a moment, Ahsoka was reminded of a small child, terrified of punishment after a mishap. “No, no, please… forgive me…!” he cried. “Oh, what have I done? What have I done‽ I am… truly sorry. Oh, Kilindi…!”

That last word he said had no meaning to the Togruta, and she dismissed it out of hand as some foreign language exclamation of remorse or apology. She was much more disconcerted about Maul’s overall response to his own actions. He wasn’t feigning regret – Ahsoka could perceive genuine anguish coming from the Nightbrother. She wasn’t keen on forgiving him, though. Ever. Her mind rushed forward all the occasions he had made her feel worthless and ashamed, starting from way back during the Siege of Mandalore – “You wanted this chaos!” he’d screamed at her then, laying the blame for atrocities he’d committed squarely on her shoulders. Him crossing this line now was just another item in a long list of grievances she had against him. One more reason to distrust him, detest him.

Yet she reminded herself that not too long ago, she had also felt guilty of her own actions against him. She had gone so far as to apologize several times, and even now, after he’d degraded her personhood in this way, she was still sorry for what she’d done. Why was he such an awful individual? Why did he bring out the worst in her, too? It surprised her to see that he was capable of demonstrating contrition for anything he’d done. She needed to be more understanding, she told herself, though at the moment, it was difficult for her to do so. He looked so pitiful, like a broken creature fully aware of his flawed state. When he’d begged her for forgiveness, he didn’t seem to be really expecting her to grant it. He appeared sickened with himself, disgusted. Hence the visceral reaction. Perhaps he didn’t deserve her pardon. Maybe she didn’t deserve his, either. Shoulders sagging, the former Padawan shut down her weapons. This was the worst fight against the worst person she could imagine. The entire situation was simply awful.

“I suppose this makes us even,” she said dully, looking down upon his wretchedness and feeling nothing but cold exhaustion. “Get up.”

Maul recoiled a bit as though she’d struck him, as though he had been expecting a physical blow. Still, he peered up at her hesitantly through the gap between his forearms. He really was a total wreck; Ahsoka wondered how long his mental state had been unraveling for.

Not wanting to look into the Zabrak’s face, the Togruta turned her back on him and slipped her lightsaber hilts under her breastplate. In their stead, she removed her staff and extended it partway, stopping the extension when the top was almost at her shoulder. She slipped her arm all the way to her armpit into the hoop and put her weight on it, using it as a make-shift crutch. The entire right side of her body was throbbing in pain now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Wearily, Ahsoka hobbled away towards the small bonfire still burning in the distance.

She didn’t know what she was going to do now. She was injured, and while the serum she’d taken earlier was keeping her on her feet, such as it were, she was in no condition to keep fighting. Also, although she’d disarmed him, she was well aware of how deadly Maul was even without weapons. He brought down an entire Star Destroyer, she reminded herself. He was good at improvising in a pinch, at the least. Once she made it to the campfire, the ex-Jedi stared at the flames listlessly, feeling numb.

After a few minutes, she heard Maul walking towards her. Unlike during their previous confrontation, his footfalls were quiet, with the only sound coming from the soft crunch of the sand. She didn’t look in his direction, even when she heard him pause and change course. When he made his way over at last, Ahsoka noticed he had retrieved his ruined saberstaff. The Zabrak stood at the edge of the ring of light cast by the campfire and looked at her silently for a long while. Finally, he spoke.

“Do you still think you are incapable of hating someone?” he asked.

Ahsoka scoffed faintly, keeping her gaze locked onto the blazing brush. Her eyes were brimming over again, and this time, she didn’t try to stop the tears from running down her cheeks. She refused to look over at him. “You humiliated me,” she admitted. “Hurt me. That doesn’t mean I hate you.”

Maul hesitated for a moment longer, keeping himself in the shadows, just outside the reach of the light. “Maybe you should,” he muttered.

The Togruta frowned and she finally turned to glare at the renegade Sith, eyes bright with indignation. He had no right to lecture her on how she should feel. “You think I don’t know that‽” she asked, her voice tight and a little shrill. “You are the most loathsome asshole I’ve ever met and believe me: I’ve come across a lot. But no,” she looked away resolutely, fixating her stare onto the fire once more. “I don’t hate you. I refuse to.” After a moment, she added, “I’m not like you.”

Another pause before she heard the Nightbrother respond, “Are you certain about that? Your past actions say otherwise.”

Really‽ He was gaslighting her‽ The nerve of him…! Ahsoka’s nostrils flared in anger, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment, trying to quell the rush of negative emotions he inspired in her before exhaling slowly. “I did what I had to do, given the circumstances,” she replied measuredly. “I’ve accepted that. I have also admitted my own wrongdoings and apologized as sincerely as I could. Was your apology genuine? I sensed your emotions were true, but I don’t know if you were actually sorry for what you did to me, or maybe just upset that you lost control.”

She could sense the Dathomirian’s dark aura shift around him, still turbulent. “Both,” he bit out curtly. “I had made an oath never to debase myself with such a lowly manner of attack.”

Debase himself‽ Was she chopped convor liver? Ahsoka had to take another calming breath. She guessed she shouldn’t be surprised that a former Sith Lord would make everything about his own ego. “Maul,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “you are self-centered, vindictive, and cruel. I’m frankly surprised you’ve survived this long. However, that doesn’t negate that my own actions towards you were also petty and mean. I’m not sure you’re capable of forgiveness, but it doesn’t matter. I will carry this shame with me for the rest of my life. That doesn’t mean I will not do all in my power to stop you.”

“Stop me from what, exactly?”

“Those crystals… you can’t control them,” Ahsoka said, looking at him coolly. “Somehow I don’t think that will deter you from trying. I cannot let you keep them.”

The Zabrak chuckled at this, his eyes gleaming sinisterly in the flickering firelight. “Why, it was your intrusion that landed these back in my hands again,” he growled, carefully and very deliberately fastening both pieces of his saberstaff to his utility belt. “I was content to leave things well enough alone, if for the moment being. You cannot presume to take control of things after you were the one to show up and disturb the mynocks’ nest.”

“You didn’t have to show up at all,” Ahsoka countered evenly. “If you were so complacent to let the crystals remain buried in the sand for all these years, forgotten, you could have ignored my presence and let me take them. I didn’t even have to find out you were still alive.” I would’ve been better off not knowing, too, she thought, but kept that part to herself.

“And allow them to rip you apart from the inside while I observed from afar? I think not.”

His statement surprised her. He had said it without hesitation, without thinking, and with fierce conviction. But why would he care if something happened to her? Ahsoka felt her lekku flush a bit, but she kept her mouth pressed tightly into a thin line. “Sweet of you to worry,” she muttered.

“Oh, do not misinterpret my words, Lady Tano,” the Zabrak replied. “What you did was awaken the beasts. If you had died soon afterwards, the kaiburr would not have become dormant once more. These two need a master. You are very clearly not qualified to be it.”

“And you are?”

“Perhaps not. Not yet anyway. Still, I have been the only individual – save for the original masters of these gems – to be able to wield them for a time without ill effect. They have accepted me, however grudgingly, as their new owner. You have sensed this, have you not?”

To this, the Togruta didn’t reply. The truth was, of course she had felt the bled kyber crystals submit to the Nightbrother’s will. Furthermore, ever since he had dominated them, the unbearable dark influence they had been emitting had subsided quite a bit. This, however, was all the more reason to keep them out of his possession. She wanted to ask him where he’d obtained those things but knew he wouldn’t answer. Not with the truth, in any case.

“Now that the kaiburr have awakened,” Maul was continuing, “their signature in the Force has become a beacon. A calling that others are bound to answer.”

Ahsoka remembered the strong signal reverberating through the Force when little Grogu began to call out from the ancient temple on Tython. Although she had been expecting it at the time, she had still been taken aback when she felt the phenomenon occur. A part of her had gotten a strong urge to drop everything and rush to the foundling’s side, even though she had made it clear to Din Djarin that she would not train the child. That feeling hadn’t subsided until Grogu stopped his trance upon receiving the connection he sought: that with Luke Skywalker. She was sure all adherents to the Light had experienced the signal, too. Even Ezra Bridger, wherever he may be, had surely felt it. What she was interpreting from Maul’s words was that this experience happened for users of the Dark Side when the bled kyber crystals resonated in protest against her handling them. Had she inadvertently caused what Obi-Wan had been so afraid would happen? Had she led other evildoers of the Force to these things?

“And you’re telling me that you are the only thing standing between these crystals and those who would take them for evil purposes? How very noble of you.” The Togruta rolled her eyes. She didn’t buy Maul’s rhetoric for a second.

“I do not care to what ends anyone out there wants to lay claim to the kaiburr,” the Dathomirian stated, his lips pulled back into a snarl. He took a step towards her menacingly. “It took me years to find them, many more years on top of that to conquer them, and I will not allow some absconded Jedi to take what I suffered for! If they are to be wielded, it is by me alone! Their power is mine!”

“I don’t care to wield them, idiot!” Ahsoka snapped, squaring her shoulders. “If you cared so much for the power they offered, why leave them behind in the hands of your greatest enemy? Or did Obi-Wan beat your metal ass into submission again in order to take them from you?”

Maul growled at her like an enraged animal, baring his teeth and making for her, as though to attack her. Leaning heavily upon her staff, Ahsoka reached her left hand out towards him and shoved back with her Living Force as hard as she could. No way, no way! She was not letting him near her again! Just because she was wounded, didn’t mean she was defenseless.

Her attack caught the Nightbrother off-guard, and he was flung back several meters, the only thing stopping him being the sloping rise of a sandbank. He was soon on his feet, and Ahsoka saw him lift both hands up in the air, palms up and fingers hooked into claws, as though mimicking the scooping up of sand. Except that in this case, the sand responded, even though it wasn’t touched. Maul used his own powers in the Force to bring up huge quantities of sand into the air, then flung it to her in a furious rush. Ahsoka barely had time to slip her arm out of her rod’s hoop and stab the staff in front of her, allowing it to complete its extension to its full height. She grabbed onto it for dear life as the fine sediment particles swirled around her with vehemence, rubbing her exposed skin raw and ripping into the hem of her clothes. The Togruta had to scrunch her eyes shut tightly, and still she could feel the sand trying to pry its way beneath her eyelids.

The storm did not subside, not even after the bonfire was snuffed out completely. The ashes of what was left of the camp mingled with the soil, giving everything a smoky scent, penetrating into the former Padawan’s clothing. Keeping her eyes and mouth shut firmly, Ahsoka tried to focus, detecting the Zabrak’s erratic anger flowing everywhere, reverberating in the Cosmic Force, then pushing back with her own power. The sand around her stilled and dropped to the ground, and she was able to crack her eyes open, but what she saw all around her was that at just a few meters’ distance, Maul’s onslaught continued, only kept at bay where she pushed back. Although it was not as strong as before she pierced his saber hilt and ruined it, she could still feel the crimson kyber lending their power to the Zabrak, aiding him in his attack. Well, two could play at that game, she supposed. Keeping a hand on her staff and placing another over her chest, the former Padawan closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and reached for her own purified crystals with her aura.

The song they replied with was quiet and sad, as though this fight made them miserable. But they responded nonetheless, trusting in her judgement as she did in the Force. She felt their innate power act like a lens that focused her Life Force into a single beam of light. She aimed that stream of Force energy directly at the Zabrak, disrupting the darkness he had surrounded himself with. Ahsoka heard him cry out through the whirling dust, and the tornado of sand began to break apart. Before the sand had completely settled back to the ground, the Togruta wrapped her remaining power around her injured leg, felt the pain of her wound temporarily subside, her weight sustained by her Living Force. Wasting no time, she sprinted forward, making for the spot by the sand dune where the Dathomirian stood, doubled over as if winded. She got up close to him and got him under the chin with an uppercut, but his head merely snapped up and back; he didn’t fall over like she’d hoped he would. He braced himself with his left foot and sprang forward to meet her, attacking her with fists and whirling kicks she only just managed to block with her staff.

She had been right to worry back on Rodia: Maul was definitely moving faster than when she’d faced him at Obi-Wan’s. He seemed to have taken to the new prosthetics easily, and she almost admired the fluid way in which he moved around her. He was rather graceful, an elegant fighter.

Yet a fighter above all else. Those strikes were deadly, she knew: for all their majestic trajectory, those blows would still impart crippling pain if she allowed it.

Her body quickly warmed up again, and the pain in her leg fell to the back of her mind. Ahsoka changed her own technique from before, becoming more aggressive in her own right. She wasn’t trying to outlast the Nightbrother anymore: she needed to bring him down. His stamina was surely to be greater than her own, seeing as how she was wounded, and he recently upgraded. And although fighting with a staff was not her forte, she made do splendidly, using her rod more as a defensive tool while she used her own body to attack. She was relying too much on her legs, she realized, and worried briefly how it would affect her injury later. Still, she refused to relinquish her staff and attack with punches as well, knowing Maul would likely take up the weapon and therefore retake the advantage. As it were, he had already made several attempts to grab it from her, but she had only just hung on to it by shoving him off with the Force. It was an exhilarating fight, with the very air around them feeling electrically charged. There was a moment where the two foes locked eyes and grinned at one another. Oh, no, Ahsoka, you cannot be enjoying this! she scolded herself.

But she was, and nothing she told herself was going to deny that feeling of elation in her breast. Now Maul was no longer under the direct influence of his bled crystals, relying solely on his own abilities in the Force and his technique. Ahsoka, too, had eased off of her kyber once she felt herself gain a bit more of control over the battle. It had become an exercise that was familiar and comfortable. She supposed there wasn’t much difference between running into an old enemy as there was an old friend. Both scenarios brought forth forgotten memories, got her heart thumping, and made her Living Force sizzle and spark.

She didn’t lose focus of her goal, however. Maul was dangerous, and although he too seemed to be enjoying himself, the Togruta was well aware that his amusement had her death as its climax. She wasn’t going to let him win this. No backing out, no letting the clones capture and subdue him, or running after Ezra while Kannan handled the rest of the fight. She had to finish things herself this time.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a shock of pain on her right side as she failed to fully block an oncoming kick from the Zabrak. He had aimed his strike very carefully and hit her directly on the wound in her thigh. Ahsoka howled in pain and bit off the sound with gritted teeth. She knew he was capable of kicking her much harder – probably hard enough to break bone – but he’d pulled back at the last second, likely wishing to extend their fight as much as possible for his entertainment.

“Focus, Lady Tano,” he sneered at her, baring teeth. “Or surrender.”

“Sod off, Gramps!” she retorted hotly, her eyes watering. She brought her staff up like a club, but instead of striking at him, she hooked one of his horns by the loop of her rod and yanked him down hard. He landed face-first into the sand at her feet. Focus on eating sand, she thought wryly.

But of course, Maul didn’t go down so easily – at least, not alone. He grabbed at her ankle and twisted it to the side, making her lose her balance and fall right along beside him. He pounced on her: one hand clamped around her throat while he struggled to take her alabaster staff with the other. The Togruta sputtered while she fought to keep a tight grip on her weapon, but spots were beginning to dance in her vision, and she was too disoriented to focus her Living Force to throw him off. In the end, she allowed him the small victory of taking her staff, releasing it in order to quickly push his face back hard with the heel of her left hand. He growled as blood spurted from where she’d cracked him right on the nose. She knew she hadn’t broken it, though. That hadn’t been what she was aiming to do. She had just needed him to tilt his head back.

Which he did on instinct as blood dribbled down his chin. In the small space that created between them, Ahsoka lifted her left leg and wedged her knee against the Zabrak’s stomach, forcing greater distance between their bodies. This left her right arm free from where it had been pinned down by Maul’s torso. She slammed the side of her fist quickly into the ground two times, activating the spring mechanism of the hidden compartment in her gauntlet. The hypodermic needle ejected instantly, and Ahsoka wasted no time in plunging it into the Dathomirian’s neck.

Before Maul could react, she kicked him off of her and rolled onto her stomach before rising to her feet. The Nightbrother was kneeling on the sand, his hand clamped over his neck, eyes wild. “Venom…!” he gasped.

“Relax, Gramps,” Ahsoka said, doubled over, hands on her knees and trying to catch her own breath. “It’s only Tranqarest. Take a nap, will you?”

For a moment, Maul’s expression looked almost comically confused. Then, as he registered her words, rage took over his features again and he roared, moving into a crouch, and lunging forward at her. He head-butted her right in the stomach, knocking the air out of her again. They both tumbled back down onto the sand. The wreath of spikes on the Zabrak’s skull dug into her painfully just beneath her breastplate, breaking skin as he shook his head violently from side to side. It took the Togruta a few seconds to realize he was goring her, like a wild beast would do. She brought her hands down before her abdomen and pushed against his head, her fingers slipping between the gaps in his horns. The pain was so deep, she thought she’d lose consciousness. “S-stop…” she whimpered, shoving back with all her strength, which at the moment, wasn’t much. “Please, stop…”

To her amazement, he did. Ahsoka noticed his movements had become much slower and clumsy. The tranquilizer was taking effect. “Curse you,” he mumbled, his speech noticeably slurred. “You… never do what I want…”

After that, he was still.

Ahsoka was stunned, and she strove to catch her breath. Maul’s own respiration was coming deep and steady now: she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her torso, his head nestled against the curve of her leather aegis. Her stomach was sore, but she recognized that her injury wasn’t as severe as she’d first thought. Now that she’d steadied her breathing, she couldn’t feel any internal damage at all. It had been the shock of getting the air knocked out of her a second time that had made her panic. She felt almost silly about it now, because it was obvious that the Nightbrother’s horns were much too small to tear into vital organs. Despite his time in the desert, possibly outside the reach of civilization, the Zabrak had kept his bone spikes whittled short. Had they been as long as Savage Oppress’s, things might have been different.

The ex-Jedi remained on the sandy ground for a few seconds, not even trying to shove her foe’s body off of hers. Her heart was already slowing its hammering against her ribs, and the light covering of sweat on her body was cooling down rapidly. Maul’s presence in the Force lingered around her aura, touched her with darkness. The pressure of his body against hers was overbearing and a bit stifling, but she didn’t want to break free just yet. There was something familiar about all this, and that recognition was important, she knew it.

“Daemon…” she murmured, tracing fingers idly around the horns on his head. My prey, the gigantic bird-bat had hissed. So long as he felt that way, she supposed, he would keep her safe from other Dark Side acolytes. Not that she needed the protection, but that could eventually lead to cooperation in ending the looming threat. Hopefully.

All in all, Ahsoka was relieved things were finally over. As much as they could be, anyway. From this point onwards, she would be able to keep the Dathomirian restrained on her ship. The trip from the Tatoo system to Chandrila would take a few days: her ship was small but had a Class 1 hyperdrive. Force willing, Maul hadn’t damaged the shuttle any more than she had during her scuffle with the Rodians. The more prudent thing would be to keep the Zabrak sedated for the duration of the journey.

She thought of all these things while also reflecting on the events of the past few days. The whirlwind of emotions she’d gone through since running into Maul, the burning questions that had formed and were in desperate need of answers, the exertion, the fighting, the mental strain, all of it… it all reminded her of a time long ago, way, way past when she’d felt more whole, before the Empire shattered her. Before she’d had to rebuild herself into something resembling what she’d once been, but not quite achieving it. She sighed: a lonely, wistful sound.

“Yeah, okay…” she admitted into the night. Now that no one was around to listen, it was all right if she confessed this out loud. She let one of her hands cradle the Nightbrother’s head against her chest. Old friends, old enemies… all the same, right? There had to be something wrong with her. Perhaps she was more damaged than she’d thought. And yet, still… “I’ve missed you too, old man.”

Chapter Text

Ahsoka glanced at the navigational display of her T-6, her intestines twisting themselves into knots. She was about an hour out from the Chandrila system, and her apprehension only grew the shorter the distance became. She had been travelling along the Corellian Run for the past few days, then taking the junction onto the Hydian Way once she reached Denon in the Inner Rim. Her readings showed she had already passed Skako and was about to reach the intersection between Hydian and the Perlemian Trade Route, which, once she got on, would take her straight to Chandrila.

She was nervous, tense. Sleep-deprived, as well. Once she’d secured Maul back onboard her shuttle, she had connected him to an I.V. that contained basic electrolytes and nutrients which her ship’s A.I. had recommended based on the renegade Sith’s species. To this fluid she added a Somaprin drip to ensure the Zabrak remained unconscious for the remainder of the trip. Force users were known to be highly resilient to sopoforics, with the tranquilizer she’d used to take him down, Tranqarest, being one of the only known sedatives that interfered with an adept’s connection to the Force. Still, she didn’t want to keep Maul on that particular drug, as she didn’t know what the long-term effects of it would be.

Also, a part of her was worried that the bled kyber crystals would begin to emit their dark signature throughout the Cosmic Force again if Maul’s tether to them was interrupted. She was familiar with Somaprin, having worked around it extensively during the Clone Wars – it was the preferred sedative of the clone medics. She knew it was more or less safe to keep the Zabrak on a heavy dose of the stuff in order to keep him out cold. Although not as potent on Force users as Tranqarest, unless the person in question was actively trying to connect to the Force, they should remain drowsy at the least. Fortunately for her, Maul had shown no signs during the entire trip of trying to wake. Occasionally, he would moan and mumble softly in his sleep, but this would cease the moment the Togruta stepped up beside the med-bay table to inspect him. Still, these small outbursts were enough to keep Ahsoka on edge, as she was unsure if the Dathomirian had regained consciousness.

Now, with their journey so close to an end, her stress only mounted. She wasn’t sure exactly what awaited her in Hanna City, but she dreaded the coming moment when she handed Maul over to the New Republic authorities. If anything, that meant he’d finally be allowed to awaken, and that was something she really wasn’t looking forward to. It seemed she got along best with the Zabrak while he was unconscious. She knew she’d had little choice but to solicit aid in handling him, but she fretted over what he might do to her friends and the government they had fought so hard to build and continued to struggle to uphold.

The more she turned matters over in her mind, the more she became convinced that Dor Wieedo had been right about one thing, at the very least: the New Republic Coalition did not have the capability to contain Darth Maul. Because, yes, he was a Sith, despite Obi-Wan’s assurance that this part of the Nightbrother had died. If there was something Ahsoka knew for certain, it was Maul’s frustrating habit of resuscitating himself. There, on Tatooine, she had confirmed that the Zabrak was as steeped in the Dark Side as he had ever been. Once he got back in possession of those bled crystals… Ahsoka shuddered to remember the dense blackness surrounding the Dathomirian’s aura, the stifling oppressiveness of his ire and spite. He was dangerous, and where once, long ago, she had been confident that the Jedi Council would know what to do with Maul, there was no one in the galaxy she could turn to now whom she could trust would be able to handle him.

Well, there was no point in second-guessing her decisions anymore. She had to have faith in those within the Coalition. Perhaps once she met with the chancellor and went into greater detail about her encounter with Maul, Mon Mothma could provide solutions. Or at the very least, ideas.

Her shuttle’s systems bleeped, notifying her that she was now entering the PTR. The route took her right past Brentaal, marking her entry into the Bromea sector of the Core Worlds. She’d arrive at her destination in less than an hour’s time. Absentmindedly, she began fiddling with her lekku, her anxiety mounting. Seeing as how there was nothing she could do for the moment being – unable to even beam a message over to Mon Mothma through the Fulcrum Network because she was in hyperspace – Ahsoka decided to meticulously go over the T-6’s travel logs again, just in case she’d missed something.

During nearly the entire trip, she had been trying to piece together the Nightbrother’s activities while she had been unconscious. The first thing she had done, once securing him back to the med-bay table and setting him up with the I.V. was to confiscate his ruined weapon, then run full diagnostic scans of her ship, both internal and external. She knew Maul had flown straight to Tatooine after his delay in the Tyrius system. Security scans had shown several lifeforms aboard the ship at one point, but nothing more. Ahsoka frowned. She would need to install visual security recorders onboard as soon as possible. She’d never felt the need to do so before, because she was travelling with Sabine, and they trusted one another. Her encounter with Maul had taught her that she should be more prepared in case she ran into any other unfriendly figure.

The scans had all come back negative. The Zabrak apparently hadn’t been interested in bugging her systems or tampering with them in any way. He also hadn’t brought any type of electronics onboard which could interfere with her ship’s components. The scans detected no explosive devices either. Seeing as how he’d planned to kill her and keep her T-6, Ahsoka wasn’t all that surprised. She had, after all, found that elusive gaffi stick. It was stuffed in a large, old duffel bag made of tanned animal hide. This had been placed not-so-discreetly on top of the copilot’s seat, which had sat empty since Sabine and Ahsoka parted ways. Atop of it, much to her chagrin, was the Togruta’s Fulcrum mask. It seemed as though Maul was the type to keep trophies. Ahsoka had quickly taken it back to her room along with the Zabrak’s lightsaber hilt and locked it away in the coffer beneath her cot. And though it had made her uneasy to do so, the former Rebel spy had also taken the Dathomirian’s luggage to her quarters and emptied out the contents onto her bed in order to double-check that Maul hadn’t brought anything toxic onboard. She was cautious as she did so, not wanting to trigger anything dangerous the Nightbrother might be carrying.

All she had found inside were more Tusken clothes, folded neatly into tight squares, eating utensils, packs of dried herbs and roots wrapped in leather. She also found an old spacer’s strongbox whose locking mechanism no longer worked. Inside, it contained quite a few tomes made of flimsiplast that were inscribed in diverse graphemes she couldn’t decipher. No two books were printed in the same alphabet, and all of them were extremely worn, with frayed leather binding. There were even some that had blank pages. Inside a small, crudely made wooden box nestled in among the clothes were three handmade writing utensils that appeared to be carved from some type of root and had nibs made of the spines of some plant. A diminutive bottle containing a dark pigment was in there as well. Ahsoka guessed this was used as ink. Other than these things and a few rudimentary tools Maul probably used for the maintenance of his prosthetics, there was nothing of interest inside the sack.

The former Padawan had been a bit surprised that this was the case. She would have thought the Zabrak had a larger arsenal of weapons or at least more sophisticated instruments than those he carried. Then again, she recalled how he had basically kept his legs together by wrapping the joints in strips of leather. How had Maul been living this entire time? His trappings and implements inside this bag were signs of a humble life, ironically similar to the impression she had gotten from Obi-Wan’s abandoned home. It was perhaps no wonder that the old Jedi Master had appeared so sympathetic regarding his foe. There was a kinship there, or so she felt. If only the Dathomirian would relinquish his attachment to the Dark Side… He might have made a fine Jedi, she had thought in that moment as she carefully replaced the items inside the bag. The idea had made her blush for some reason.

The last things she put back away were a set of earthenware bowls wrapped in cloth. These were the only tableware the Nightbrother carried, aside from matching ladles whittled from petrified wood. Ahsoka had stared at the two dishes for a long time, fascinated. She wondered where he’d gotten them from, for they were made of clay, and roughly formed by hand. They had to have been purchased from a market stand that provided offworld items, for she could not imagine obtaining clay on Tatooine. Although it was rumored that the planet had at one point been covered in water, that had been millennia ago, and nothing remained on the surface but sand. Yet the bowls seemed local to the planet somehow. At least, that was the feeling she got from touching them. Ahsoka did not have the gift of psychometry in the Force, but she could still glean impressions off of items or areas if strong enough emotions were tied to them. The earthenware dishes intrigued her because she could feel that whoever had made them, had done so with great care. There was a large amount of awe and respect that went into crafting the bowls, a type of reverence. They were overall plain but had carvings on the outside: crude symbols that looked more like pictographs than actual letters. And although they were rudimentary in design, the hand that etched them had been steady. To finish off the design, the clay was then painted over or stained by something before being put to bake. While the handle-less spoons were not colored in this way, some of the strange glyphs were also carved into them, completing the set. The Togruta had felt warm inside while she held them. They were beautiful. So, so strange that Maul would be in possession of something such as this. She hadn’t thought he was capable of appreciating artisanal items.

So, in spite of her inspections and her ship’s scans, she had come up with nothing suspicious. Even when she’d connected to the Force and tried to get a read of her surroundings, all she received were faint residual traces of conflict and fear. Sorrow. Likely from the entire ordeal with the RHF boarding party. It made her a little sick to her stomach, remembering all the carnage she sensed while under the effects of the newoongall toxin, so she pulled away from the Cosmic Force and focused on other ways of filling in the gaps of what had happened. Which is why she was going through the travel logs yet again, despite knowing she wasn’t going to discover anything new.

As she went over the readings, her thoughts strayed to the conversations she’d had with her friends. Because of course she had contacted the New Republic, although not from Tatooine. She’d travelled to Ryloth as soon as those first scans were completed, and she was certain she wasn’t carrying anything dangerous aboard. (Well, save for Maul, that is.) Before heading out, she had beamed a transmission to the Lodestar, hoping to get in touch with her good friend, Hera Syndulla. Luckily, she was able to get through rather quickly, as it turned out Hera’s Barma Battle Group had recently been dispatched to Reuss VIII to help the local authorities deal with a dangerous crime lord. Reuss was in the Outer Rim, much further out from Tatooine than Rodia or even Ryloth, but still close enough to where Ahsoka’s transceiver signal didn’t need to be bounced around between networks. The Togruta had ribbed the Twi’lek a bit over her new position as General within the High Command, then got straight to the point: she had Maul in custody and needed to notify the chancellor of the success of her mission. However, she couldn’t do so through normal channels of communications, for she still worried about Navik’s government intercepting the message.

Once past her initial shock (subsequently followed by anger) at the news that the Dathomirian Zabrak was still alive, Hera assured Ahsoka that she would of course be welcome on Ryloth. The Twi’lek had sent over coordinates to her home province of Tann, where her clan hailed from.

“I’ll notify my father, so he’ll be expecting your arrival,” Hera had said. “He’ll probably try to convince you to stay for a spell. He really likes you.”

“I’m happy to see him, as well,” Ahsoka had replied with a smile, “Cham tells awesome stories and makes the best caf.”

The former spy had kept her conversation with Hera short, leaving out much of the details, both because she was trying to maintain discretion on her communication channels, and also due to her simply feeling too burned out to mentally replay the events all over again. She could tell her friend was curious as much as she was upset, but thankfully, the Twi’lek didn’t push her for specifics.

“Honestly,” the New Republic general stated shortly before ending their communication, “if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s you who’s captured that scum, I’d send Vanguard immediately to take over. Be careful, Ahsoka.”

“Of course, Hera. Especially if I’m to be in your home world, near your family. I’ll keep Maul secured aboard the entire time; you have my word.”

When the Togruta had arrived on Ryloth a few hours after leaving Tatooine, she had been well received by Clan Syndulla. Cham had insisted she stay for at least a night in the impressive Syndulla estate, which was still being reconstructed after it had been destroyed years before due to Imperial occupation during the Civil War. Even with work still going on, the structure was large and opulent, for many Twi’lek clans had joined together to help the influential Syndulla clan. Cham was a hero to his people, having gained prominence planetwide during the time of the Clone Wars. All of Ryloth mourned the loss of the clan’s residence and had rushed to assist by donating time and materials. From what Ahsoka had seen, the new estate promised to be even more grandiose than the original.

Keeping her promise to Hera in mind, she had gently but firmly insisted on departing as soon as she used the Syndulla’s planetary subspace transceiver to contact Mon Mothma. The chancellor had been extremely relieved to hear from Ahsoka, as she informed the Togruta that communication with the Rodian government had become spotty, and Dor Wieedo had not been available or returned Sinjir Velus’s many requests for information. The ex-Jedi hadn’t gone into details about her troubles handling Maul with the Chandrilan woman either, only assuring the chancellor that after some difficulty, the mission was successful: Maul’s life was no longer hanging in the balance, and he was subdued and secured aboard her vessel. Fortunately, Cham Syndulla was present during the transmission, and he stepped forward to address Mon Mothma, telling her that his clan would provide in-depth scans of the T-6 to make sure no explosives or tracking devices had been planted by the Rodians. When Ahsoka tried to protest them going through the trouble, the elder Twi’lek shot her down sternly, reminding her of the peril she was placing herself in by refusing the help. Mon Mothma had agreed, thanking Cham, and offering compensation, but the head of Syndulla Clan refused, saying his people wanted to remain neutral regarding New Republic affairs. He was only helping Ahsoka, he clarified, because she was a good friend of his daughter’s, and he saw the Togruta as family. His words had made Ahsoka feel overwhelmed with gratitude as a warmth radiated from her aura into the Cosmic Force. Cham had lost much, and was generally a stoic figure, and hearing him refer to her in such a way had made the Togruta feel something she rarely did nowadays: a sense of belonging.

In the end, she had remained on Ryloth for a few hours while the Twi’leks ran full scans of her ship. Cham even instructed some of his nephews – all aviation mechanics or engineers – to fix the damage done to the hull of the shuttle and go over the circuitry and engines to ensure nothing inside would malfunction. Ahsoka was mortified at all the favor she was receiving, but everyone waved her concerns away, and instead insisted she stay and share a meal with the clan.

All in all, it had been a pleasant experience for the former Padawan. Sitting in the sizeable dining area surrounded by Hera’s large extended family, as well as friends of the clan, had reminded her of the rare times she and her master had been able to share meals with other members of the Order at the Jedi Temple, or in the mess hall within the RCMO along with the Clone Troopers. Truthfully, she hadn’t wanted to leave. Cham sent her on her way with full fuel tanks and thermal sip-packs filled with his delicious home-brewed caf.

The rest of the trip, unfortunately, had not been as enjoyable. Once she was back on the Corellian Run, Ahsoka had been uneasy. She could still sense Maul’s presence in the Force, although it was subdued and inactive. The bled kyber crystals she had stored beneath her cot continued to radiate Dark Side energy, which made her apprehensive. She recalled the Nightbrother’s words of warning regarding the gems. “The kaiburr…” he had said, “have become a beacon. A calling that others are bound to answer.”

It was true that the Zabrak had managed to quell them somewhat, but she wasn’t sure if that was enough to keep Force-sensitives from tracking them down. Plus, their influence still caused her mild headaches and nausea if she lingered around them for too long. During the remainder of the trip, the Togruta took to sleeping in the captain’s seat inside the cockpit, and even so, she only dozed off for minutes at a time.

She did her best to avoid Maul, too, only checking up on him once every standard day in order to go over the levels of his I.V. and change out the pouch when necessary. The Dathomirian’s condition remained stable, with his breathing deep and steady. This time, she hadn’t overtightened the binding straps of the metal slab, recalling the discomfort she had felt when in the same situation.

In order to ease her nerves, Ahsoka had tried meditation. Kneeling on the cold floor of the cargo area in the back, she had attempted using the techniques Luke taught her in order to reach Obi-Wan by sending her consciousness across the Veil of the Force so as to touch the Netherworld. Perhaps due to her own anxiety, or due to the oppressive interference she could sense emanating from the kyber crystals in her room, Ahsoka was never able to push beyond the Veil of Mist. It might also be because of the Zabrak’s aura infecting the environment, although she was unsure if that were the reason, as he’d mentioned to her that Obi-Wan had, in fact, appeared to him as well. After several unsuccessful attempts, Ahsoka had eventually given up.

With nothing more to do during the following days, she had resorted to going over the travel logs again and again. She had practically memorized the coordinates and their corresponding timestamps by the time she hit the PTR. She scrolled through the readings absentmindedly, trying to focus on anything she may have missed, but it was a futile effort. Her sense of dread only mounted as she neared her destination, and she couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why. True, she had several legitimate motives to be concerned, but it frustrated her that she didn’t know how to dispel her feelings. She told herself that it must be due to the threat Maul would pose once secured by the NRC authorities. “Rodia does not have the capacity to keep him contained,” Dor Wieedo’s words echoed in her mind. “Frankly, we doubt if even the New Republic has the means to.” This coming from someone who belonged to a species famous for their mercenary abilities. What could the peaceful agrarian society of Chandrila possibly do?

You asked them for help, Ahsoka reminded herself with a frown. How she wished she could get in touch with Luke…! Truthfully, she would have rather had his assistance than rely on the budding New Republic. For many reasons. Luke was young, perhaps, but powerful. His aura radiated pure light and the Force seemed to naturally congregate around him, like a protective shawl. He reminded her much of his father in that just being in his presence put her instantly at ease. She felt safe when he was around. Yet Master Kenobi had warned her not to allow the bled kyber crystals to come near Luke or his sister, and she didn’t want to bring either of them harm because she was insecure.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by her navicomp’s notification that the shuttle was about to exit hyperspace. Ahsoka sighed and stretched before securing herself in her seat. She should have felt relieved, honestly. Yet she couldn’t shake that feeling of dread. She decided not to linger on things and turned her attention to her ship’s controls instead.

The Perlemian Trade Route – also known as the Axis – was unique among hypperroutes in that it took vessels directly to the planet of destination, rather than ending at the outskirts of their solar systems. So, when the T-6 fell back into realspace, the Togruta was greeted by the blue-green orb flanked by its two colorful moons. The Jewel of the Core Worlds had earned its name, for it was mesmerizing to behold, even from space. Ahsoka took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the planet’s countenance: glittering deep blue oceans separated by emerald continents, all lightly painted over with swirling wisps of pure white clouds. She would never forgive herself if she allowed Maul to wreak havoc on such a pristine world.

The former spy opened up her encrypted Fulcrum channel on her subspace transceiver and sent a notification signal to Mon Mothma. The chancellor replied almost immediately, the woman’s hologram appearing much more clearly on the shuttle’s projector this time.

“Ahsoka!” the auburn-haired woman exclaimed. The Togruta noticed how the human’s pinched features had relaxed instantly, replaced by a warm smile. “We have been anxiously awaiting your arrival. Has everything proceeded smoothly?”

“Yes, Madam, everything is fine. Our, um, guest remains secured and unconscious.”

“That is a relief to hear,” Mon Mothma replied. “Stand by, and I will have Sinjir transmit over the clearance codes so you can begin your descent into Hanna City.”

Ahsoka nodded and ended the transmission, then awaited to receive authorization to land as well as the coordinates on where to do so.

She didn’t have long to wait, as she was almost instantly contacted by Sinjir Velus, the chancellor’s top advisor. She was told to dock at the southernmost edge of the capital, in a platform along the shores of the Silver Sea. This landing pad – OB-99 – was as far away from the center of Hanna as possible without it being outside of the city perimeters and was run by the New Republic Defense Fleet, according to her shuttle’s constantly updated navigation index. Being asked to dock there was unusual, but not surprising to the Togruta. The monumental Hanna City Spaceport, located just west of the capital’s downtown, was where most vessels were instructed to land. However, the Chandrilan Security Force, which ran the starport, was under the jurisdiction of the Chandrilan House, and thus outside the direct command of Mon Mothma. Ahsoka understood that the chancellor likely wanted to avoid the planetary government becoming entangled in these affairs.

Once her T-6 had safely landed, she was contacted by Velus again, who notified her that members of the NRDF were awaiting to escort her into the capital proper. As promised, Ahsoka could already see a military escort approaching her shuttle through the viewing window before her engines were even fully powered down. Between the two files of soldiers, they towed a hovering restraining capsule. The former Padawan was reminded of the remarkably similar scenario that had played out a few days back on Rodia. Only this time, she unbuckled herself and rose from her seat immediately, making a beeline for the boarding ramp. She lowered it using the controls in her gauntlet and disembarked quickly, purposefully not sparing a single glance to the unconscious Zabrak. As nervous as it made her to think of handing Maul over to authorities that might not be qualified to keep him detained, she also wanted to get everything over with. And, well, he was out cold for now, still under the effects of the sedative, and likely would be for a few hours more.

As she walked onto the platform, she was greeted by a man with dark hair, skin, and soft brown eyes. “Sondiv Sella,” he said with a smile, extending a hand. Ahsoka took his hand in hers and shook it firmly, offering a small nod in acknowledgement. “I am Chancellor Mon Mothma’s secondary advisor. Sinjir Velus – who I’m aware you’ve been in contact with already – and I work closely together.”

“Good to meet you, Advisor,” the Togruta replied politely. “I’m Ahsoka Tano. As I’m sure you know, the chancellor is expecting me.”

“Please, call me Sondiv,” Advisor Sella said. “If anything, it is I who should be addressing you by your title. I am familiar with your work with the Rebellion, Agent Fulcrum.”

“I’ll use your first name if you use mine,” the ex-Jedi responded, grinning. “Honorifics aren’t really my thing. They’re too stuffy.”

Sondiv laughed: a loud, melodic, booming sound that rang all throughout the platform. Ahsoka liked him already. “Really?” he said, his russet eyes twinkling, “Well, seems we have something in common. Will do, Ahsoka.” Taking a look around at the squad of soldiers accompanying him, his friendly features instantly darkened. “Now, I hate to dampen the introductions, but, yes, the chancellor instructed me to escort you to her right away. These gentlemen here are to take your prisoner to HQ. We have all kinds of reinforced holding cells in the citadel. He’ll stay put.”

Ahsoka sighed, looking uneasily back up the boarding ramp. “Unless the Defense Fleet is in possession of a Mandalorian vault, I worry you can’t guarantee that. I recommend you keep him under sedation while you move him, just in case.” As the Defense Fleet members began to board her shuttle, she called after them: “Please, keep me informed of any change in his condition. If you need me to accompany you…”

“These men are all seasoned veterans from the Civil War,” Sondiv interrupted. “They can handle this rascal. Now, Mon will be upset with me if we delay. Worse still, I’ll have to deal with Sinjir’s nagging. Come this way, if you please. I guarantee the Defense Boys will be in communication every step of the way.”

Ahsoka lingered for a moment longer before nodding and stepping in to walk beside the advisor. He led her down the paved runway towards a smaller landing platform a few meters away. Docked there were two smaller repulsorcraft, one of which the former Rebel spy recognized as Imperial in origin. She involuntarily frowned. She understood that after the fall of the Empire, the budding New Republic Coalition had confiscated and repurposed many Imperial vehicles but seeing the 93-B still made her mood sour. She knew of at least one Fulcrum who had been captured and transported aboard one of these hovercrafts, never to be seen again.

Sondiv Sella stepped up beside the other, smaller AV-21 landspeeder and motioned for her to climb in. Ahsoka did so, settling herself into the passenger side. They were soon zipping away towards the northern end of the city, avoiding all major streets by flying around through the western outskirts.

“It’s a bit of a roundabout way,” Sondiv shouted over the roar of the wind rushing past, “but actually much quicker. And we can avoid curious onlookers.”

Ahsoka nodded but didn’t say anything. Just knowing that the distance between her and Maul was growing with each passing klick made her unease grow. She really hoped the Rodians would be proven wrong in their assessment of the New Republic’s holding capabilities.

After a while, the Togruta noticed they were bypassing all populated areas completely, including the official-looking, grand, domed buildings she could see in the distance, which she could only assume were legislative in nature. She pointed them out to Sondiv Sella with a questioning look.

“Yeah, that’s the capitol,” Sondiv said loudly, nodding. “They’re a lovely sight in the nighttime. In a moment, we’ll pass by the military facilities on the northern side, but our destination is further up still. Mon thought it best if she met with you in her family’s estate, away from the hubbub of galactic politics. This mission you’ve contacted her about – as well as your prisoner – seems to be a matter she wants as few people as possible to learn about. I think you’ll like spending time at the dacha rather than the Senate Building anyway. The political atmosphere there can be heavy and dull.”

Ahsoka only smiled and continued to look out over the sprawling city. The sky was clear, and the air was fresh and pure. She had landed around midday, it seemed, and she could see people bustling about the streets in the distance. Everyone dressed in an array of soothing colors, with flowing garments of light-looking fabric. They looked like flowers, dancing in the wind.

Soon, the city fell to the wayside, and the AV-21 continued on past looming military structures. They didn’t look new, and in fact, had been built originally as a Republic outpost during the onset of the Clone Wars, Sondiv pointed out. When the Empire rose to power, he informed her, the buildings were repurposed as an Imperial garrison, from where Governors appointed directly by Palpatine oversaw management of the planet. Now that the New Republic was established, the structures had found a new function yet again, as a military training academy and a security processing center, from where High Command sometimes operated.

Once the military buildings fell behind as well, the Togruta made out an expansive body of water in the distance. Another ocean?

“No,” Sondiv responded when she asked. “That’s Lake Sah’ot. It looks large from here, but it’s one of the smaller lakes on the planet. Still a beauty, I must say. The dacha is located along the shoreline. We’re almost there.”

The advisor was right, as it turned out, for as they neared a cluster of trees growing along the edge of the water, Ahsoka was able to make out a large, rustic-looking home partially concealed among the flora. Sondiv brought the landspeeder to a smooth halt just outside the main entrance. No sooner had they arrived, than thick transparisteel doors slid open. Out stepped Mon Mothma, elegant and graceful as Ahsoka remembered.

The chancellor of the New Republic wore a flowing robe of cream-colored Hapan dreamsilk of simple design. Ahsoka’s good friend, Padmé Amidala, had once told Ahsoka that one of the many traits she admired about Mon Mothma was her humble, inclusive nature. Most of her wardrobe was in the same shade of soft ivory, with few embellishments, yet it was rumored that not a single garment she owned originated from the same planet. She liked to show respect and affection for all the cultures in the galaxy by having her clothing made in various star systems out of their native fabrics. The Togruta smiled upon seeing her. There were few better suited to unite and lead the galaxy, in her opinion.

“Ahsoka Tano!” Mon Mothma said, a joyful and relieved smile transforming her usually serene features. As she walked up to the pair, she reached out and took both the Togruta’s hands in hers. “It has been years, my dear, since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you face-to-face.”

“The pleasure is mine, Madam,” Ahsoka replied, squeezing the elder woman’s hands just a little. Although she had never been particularly close to the Chandrilan back when she was a Padawan, she was familiar with her through Padmé. During the time of the Clone Wars, both women had been senators, and worked closely together to bring about a peaceful resolution to the crisis. After Palpatine declared himself Emperor, Mon Mothma had resigned from the Galactic Senate and, along with Bail Organa, started the Alliance to Restore the Republic. During the early days of the Empire, as resistance groups formed throughout the galaxy, Ahsoka had come to work for Organa, who himself had also been a close friend of Padmé’s. This brought the Togruta into contact with Mon Mothma again, as the woman quickly rose to a prominent leadership role within the Rebellion. Most of Ahsoka’s interactions with the Chandrilan had been through the anonymous Fulcrum Network, and she always kept her face hidden, or used the avatar she had designed. However, Mon Mothma was a clever woman, and had quickly figured out Ahsoka’s true identity. The two had eventually worked more closely together, with Ahsoka often acting as a liaison between Alliance Command and the various Rebel cells. She had come to respect and admire the Chandrilan for her quiet tenacity, for her unwavering leadership in the face of adversity. She took a stand when many were afraid to do so. She became a beacon for those who wished to fight tyranny. The Togruta knew the Rebel Alliance would not have survived long without her.

After the formality of their greetings were done with, Mon Mothma led the two arrivals inside, asking Ahsoka if she’d eaten anything yet for that day. When the Togruta mumbled something about ration bars, the woman had shot her a skeptical look, and insisted that Ahsoka share lunch with her and her entourage. Remembering the hospitality she’d received only a few days past in Ryloth, the former Padawan squirmed uncomfortably.

“I seem to be getting many good meals at the expense of others lately,” she muttered. Mon Mothma paid no heed to her protests, and she and Sondiv led her past the entrance area of the home and a spacious, airy living room towards a dining room just as large. A long rectangular table made of polished Taboon hardwood and its corresponding chairs took up most of the space. At one end, furthest from the entrance, sat a young woman sipping what appeared to be tea, and a man nursing a plum-colored drink. Both were humans: she with raven hair, fair skin and blue-green eyes that reminded Ahsoka of how Chandrila itself looked like from space. The man had dark eyes, hair, and a complexion slightly lighter in color than the table. Despite his formal attire, with his tousled tresses and scruffy facial hair, he looked rather like a scoundrel.

“Really, Sinjir?” Sondiv said upon seeing the young man. “Isn’t it a bit early for alcohol?”

“I’ve been up and dealing with the representatives of reptilian warlords masquerading as civil members of galactic society since before the sun was up,” the man replied immediately, without missing a beat. “With all the talking I’ve had to do, I’d say I was overdue for some hydration. Lieda here was kind enough to accompany me. Don’t worry, Mon,” he added to the chancellor and standing as they walked into the room, “I didn’t spike her tea.” Ahsoka recognized his voice as that of the person she’d spoken to when she’d arrived in the star system.

The young woman also stood as they approached. Mon Mothma smiled at them as they came forward and turned towards Ahsoka to say, “Ahsoka, this is my daughter, Lieda. And my primary council, Advisor Sinjir Rath Velus. I would like you both to meet Ahsoka Tano, the Rebellion’s first and primary Fulcrum agent.”

“A pleasure to meet you at last,” Lieda Mothma said with a slight bob of her head, as was the polite manner of greeting in Chandrila. “My mother has spoken wonders about you. You’ve had us all quite worried.”

“Indeed,” Velus said, extending out a hand to shake Ahsoka’s. He was likely from another star system. His mannerisms and speech patterns were markedly different, and he had a distinct Imperial accent. “I’ve been eager to meet you, Agent Fulcrum. It seems I have you to thank for sowing dissent in so many members of the Empire. Without your interference, I wouldn’t have had much of a job back then.”

Upon seeing the Togruta’s quizzical look, Mon Mothma explained, “Sinjir was a loyalty officer with the ISB. He joined the Rebellion after Endor. Frankly, I’m surprised the two of you haven’t crossed paths sooner.”

“You even recruited one of our own from the Bureau,” Sinjir said, studying Ahsoka carefully through heavily lidded eyes. His facial expression and tone of voice were pleasant and relaxed, but the former spy could see the human had subconsciously slipped into a guarded demeanor. “ISB-021. He was one of our best, before you stole him away. I can see why you headed the Rebel’s network of infiltrators.”

Ahsoka grinned, aware of the growing tension in the room. This man, then, was her foil, or had been, at some point. She could tell her presence was making him uncomfortable, but his training was excellent, and nothing of it showed in his comportment. However, the Togruta could read it in those dark eyes. “You’re referring to Alexsandr,” she said, making sure to refer to Kallus by his first name so as to make it perfectly clear that she saw the man as more than a mere designation number. “Quite honestly, it didn’t take much to convince him. I think the Empire did most of that on its own. He’s a good person.”

“And good people didn’t last long in the Empire,” Sinjir finished for her. “They either defected, were made to toe the line, or silenced.”

“The good thing is, all of that is in the past, including the Empire’s reign,” Sondiv interrupted, clapping a hand on Velus’s shoulder. “In the end, you left, too, Sinjir. And we’re all the better for it.”

“I am not a good person,” the other man retorted. “We’re all aware I tucked tail and ran only because I realized the Empire had no chance in the end.”

“Whatever your reasons may have been,” Sondiv insisted, “you’re on the right side now. The New Republic needs people like you.”

“My mother wouldn’t have offered you a position at her side otherwise,” Lieda agreed.

Ahsoka observed the exchange with open curiosity. Her impression of Rath Velus was that the man was jaded, perhaps overly cynical. Definitely cautious. She was sure he suffered some type of PTSD. Not all that different from Alexsandr Kallus, really. The empirical machine really did a number on their personnel. Still, it boded well for his character that he was immediately upfront about his past and didn’t try to sugarcoat or justify his previous actions.

The chancellor ushered them all towards the table, and as soon as they were seated, a hospitality service droid rolled in to offer them beverages and set tableware before them in preparation for a meal. Velus declined the ice water, preferring to return to his drink. Mon Mothma, however, insisted that he at least eat when the food was brought out.

In this manner, the time passed quickly, with Ahsoka catching the others up on the details of her expedition with Maul while they ate. There were many things she tried to explain which she saw were making no sense to the humans, such as the apparition who had visited her to deliver the warning, as well as the ominous influence of the kyber crystals.

“They’re used to make laser weapons, right?” Velus asked between mouthfuls. Despite his thin frame the man had a ravenous appetite. “They’re energy amplifiers, essentially.”

“Technically, yes,” Ahsoka said patiently, “but they’re more than just a useful ore. Kyber crystals are alive in the Force. They have a consciousness. The Jedi saw them not as tools, but as partners, helpers that aided us in connecting and understanding the flow of energy around us.”

“But they’re not really living beings, are they?” Sondiv asked incredulously. “It’s a figure of speech, like when people give pet names to their landspeeders. Or perhaps you mean they’re similar to droids? We know they have intelligence, but they’re not breathing creatures. They’re inorganic.”

“Actually,” Velus said, “the crystals contain organic matter within.” Meeting Sondiv’s skeptical gaze, the younger man shrugged. “I took a tour of the Eadu Energy Conversion Lab once. Those researchers were eager to share their knowledge. I don’t reckon they got many visitors.”

“A tour?”

Velus grinned sardonically. “Well, a tour to root out Rebel sympathizers. Apparently, I didn’t do a good job of it, seeing as how the plans for the DS-01 got out anyway.”

“A monstrous contraption, that Death Star,” Mon Mothma said quietly.

“Yes, and it was mainly powered by these crystals you’re referring to,” Velus said with a frown. “If what you’re saying is true, Fulcrum, and these things have some type of sentience, how is it that they simply didn’t refuse to work? Or do they not have a moral compass like other species?”

“I was taught that kyber crystals are naturally attuned to the light within the Force,” Ahsoka said, subconsciously reaching down to touch one of the hilts at her hips. “This has always been the case, in my experience. However, they can be made to act contrary to their nature, much in the same manner as anyone can. They can be dominated, enslaved. This process hurts them, as it would any other being. I’m sure the kyber mourned when they were used to destroy Alderaan. After being so closely intertwined with life, being the cause of the extinguishment of it must have wounded them deeply. Their destruction was likely the most merciful thing that happened to them.”

“Well, by that token, why don’t you just destroy the two crystals you were sent to find by this hallucination you had?” Sondiv asked. “Wouldn’t that be a kindness also?”

Ahsoka frowned and looked down at her plate. She had barely touched her food, instead having spent the time pushing it around on her platter. Her mood was heavy, and she didn’t have much of an appetite. “These crystals…” she said after a pause, “are different. I’ve never encountered anything like them.”

“Go on,” Mon Mothma encouraged gently.

“They rejected my presence as soon as they detected it,” the Togruta explained. Recalling their discomforting vibes, she ran a hand over one of her front lekku. The sensation comforted her a bit, at least enough for her to continue. “I get the impression that they are extremely old crystals. Ancient, even. Kyber crystals have no true lifespan. At least, not any that were known to the Jedi. Over long periods of time, they grow in size, but I have never known of one whose luster dims on its own. They can be broken – either cracked or completely shattered – and this might cause a crystal to die. I can’t tell you how old these particular kyber are, but they must have been around for millennia, because I could detect no affinity to the light of the Force at all. It’s as though they have been shrouded in darkness for so long, they understand no other way of existing.” She looked around at the three humans. “I cannot think of a way to destroy them safely. They radiate hatred. Simply being around them took a toll on me. I’m afraid that anyone who attempts it will only die trying.”

“Yeah, but you felt that way because you can sense this Force mumbo-jumbo, right?” Sinjir asked, taking a swig of his drink. “What about a normal person? I can handle them with no problem, I assume? Sondiv, Mon, Lieda, or any of our personnel.”

“You said you went to Eadu,” Ahsoka said, raising an eye ridge. “Did you get to see any of the kyber there? Have you ever held one?”

The man shook his head.

“They generate heat,” the Togruta explained simply. “Not in any way that can be detected by measuring instruments, but if you hold one in your palm, and it resonates with you, you will feel a warmth radiate from the stone and into your core. This doesn’t only happen to those who are Force-sensitive. They’ll even react this way to vegetation. When I tried to hold the sheaths – mind you, the sheaths – that these crystals were housed in, they almost burned a hole through my glove. It felt as though something were trying to rip me apart from the inside. They are so strong, I think they would have the same effect on any person. I’m telling you: they’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen. They are powerful enough to kill someone if they so desire. Of that, I have no doubt.”

“Basically, they’re immortal killer crystals with murderous intent and you can’t control them, making them a danger to you and anyone around you.”

“Just about.”

“But this guy you captured – Maul – he can carry them around with no problem?”

Ahsoka sighed. “Not… exactly. ‘With no problem’ is a bit of a stretch. I do think they affect him as well. He doesn’t have complete control over them, although he seems to be much more tolerant or resistant to their influence than I.”

“Because he’s a normal Zabrak, do you think? Or maybe because he’s part machine?” Sondiv asked.

“Well, Vader was more machine than man, it was rumored,” Velus said with a shrug. “And Zabraks are highly resistant to external elements. It’s possible that either thing might have something to do with it.”

“If that is the case, why don’t we have droids destroy them?” Lieda spoke up. She had been quietly listening to the conversation during that entire time, only nodding along to show she was paying attention. She seemed to be the type to not offer her point of view until she had absorbed all the facts. In that manner, she reminded the Togruta of the chancellor.

Ahsoka now looked at the trio blankly for a few seconds before turning her gaze onto Mon Mothma. ‘Normal’ was not the word she’d use to describe Maul. Certainly not in the way Sondiv was using the term. Did they not know about…?

“You do know who I apprehended, don’t you?” she asked. “You’re aware of who Maul is?”

“Sure,” Velus said with a shrug. “Although, most of what I know is recent information I got from Mon. I wasn’t too familiar with underground dealings when I worked for the Empire, and this Maul character seems to have already faded into obscurity by the time I officially became a part of the Rebellion.”

“I can’t say I know much more than Sinjir, here,” Sondiv said sheepishly. “Before serving the New Republic, I was just a cargo pilot. But yes, we are aware that this is the individual behind the Shadow Collective. Which – from how you’ve described the Rodians being spooked and possibly wanting to auction off his head to whichever cartel bid the most – makes sense.”

“Well, yes, all of that is accurate, but Maul is also a Force user, like me and Luke Skywalker.”

“He’s a Jedi‽” Lieda almost dropped her fork.

“He’s Sith,” Ahsoka corrected.

“Huh, that weird, occult religion Vader belonged to?” Sinjir asked.

Mon Mothma cleared her throat softly, turning to look at the Togruta with a small smile. “I’m afraid I wasn’t too clear regarding Maul’s abilities, dear. Despite my acquaintance with members of the Jedi Council when the Order still existed, my understanding of the Force is primitive at best. I felt it was better to wait for you to arrive here and elaborate. You are much more qualified to explain these things than I am. In fact, there is much about Maul’s background and powers that I do not know about.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Well, that makes two of us,” she muttered. “To be honest, I’m not even sure if ‘Maul’ is his given birth name. Not that it matters, I suppose.” She looked around the table a bit helplessly. She hadn’t thought she’d need to offer an impromptu summary on the Zabrak’s contentious background. So much of his past was a mystery, with her filling in the gaps with assumptions, essentially. This was especially true when it came to his upbringing and training as a Sith. Velus was right: it was an obscure religion. Although, as a Jedi, she had been taught the basic history of various Force sects, Sith philosophies were only briefly touched upon, and used more as a cautionary tale, if anything. Having to explain why the Sith were so dangerous to the galaxy at large was going to be difficult to explain, especially when some of those present were clearly skeptics about the Force in general. She could see as much, especially in Sinjir and Sondiv, who – although they were trying to be polite – very obviously did not believe much of what she said.

“In many ways,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “the Sith were the perfect opposite of the Jedi Order. They were the antimatter, so to speak. Where the Jedi lived firmly in the Light Side of the Force, Sith walked a path of darkness.”

“I’ve read a bit about various mythologies of the Force,” Lieda mused in her soft voice. “Most do speak of there being two sides to it: light and dark. I assume they represent good versus evil?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Ahsoka said, “but boiled down to the bare bones, I suppose that’s a good starting point. The Force is composed of the energy of all living beings, both sentient and non. The Light Side is passive, tranquil. Which is why the Jedi Order focused so much on discipline and meditation. Self-control. Allowing and accepting the things that life throws our way. Trusting in the will of a greater wisdom than our own. Jedi move with the flow of the Cosmic Force. The Sith, on the other hand, were about dominating the Force to do their bidding. Twisting, bending, coercing, causing conflict. Imposing their will over all other forms of life. The Dark Side is therefore chaotic, with adherents utilizing their emotions to fuel their power. Does that make sense?”

“Somewhat…” Sondiv said, but he sounded dubious still.

“Not at all,” Velus stated outright. “Isn’t that contradictory in and of itself? The Dark Side thing, I mean. If the Sith were bent on conquering all life, that would require a type of self-discipline as well, wouldn’t it? And I wouldn’t necessarily call Vader chaotic. He was cruel, for sure, but he instilled order in the Imperial ranks.”

“Through inspiring fear,” Ahsoka countered. “It was a type of subjugation using the emotions of others.”

“Ah,” Velus said, nodding, his dark eyes thoughtful. “I think I see what you’re referring to.”

“And Maul…” Mon Mothma interrupted quietly, “these are the types of methods he utilizes?”

“From my past encounters with him, yes,” the ex-Padawan said.

“How dreadful,” the chancellor commented, shaking her head sadly. “What a distasteful individual.”

“Powerful, too, unfortunately,” Ahsoka added, no longer trying to pretend to be interested in the meal before her, now cold. “Now that the Emperor is dead, as well as Vader, Maul is probably the strongest Dark Side user currently living.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Velus exclaimed, gesticulating with one hand in front of his face, as though to wave her statement away. “You’re telling me Palpatine could use the Force as well‽ Impossible!”

Ahsoka’s jaw dropped a little in spite of herself. “Didn’t you know‽” she countered, just as incredulous in turn. “I thought you said you worked within the Empire!”

“Very few of us actually knew the truth about Sheev Palpatine,” Mon Mothma said. “After he declared himself Emperor and framed the Jedi Order as traitors to the Republic, he holed himself up in his palace and very rarely emerged. Vader was always sent out as his enforcer, and both Tarkin and Amedda handled most public relations. He never presented himself to the populace at large as anything other than a once-charismatic, frail, old man who had been traumatized into self-isolation by the betrayal of the wicked Jedi. Had Bail not informed me years ago of the truth, I wouldn’t have believed it myself. Even now, years after his death, most people are ignorant of his true identity.”

“There were rumors among the Imperial ranks, of course,” Velus stated with a sigh. “Whispers here and there, that the Emperor had strange powers of his own. But nothing was ever substantiated, and in fact, talk of such things was considered traitorous. How could you besmirch the leader of the galaxy in such a way, especially after all he had suffered? Part of my job was to make sure those whispers never grew in volume, and to silence them altogether if possible. I was indoctrinated into believing such things were absurd, a sign of heretical behavior.”

Ahsoka sat back in her chair. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by this information, but the Emperor had died so long ago. Surely the truth had to be known by now? She had been expecting so, at least of the high-ranking members of the current government and their inner circle.

“Perhaps I am at fault for Sinjir still being in the dark about this,” Mon Mothma said, reading the expression on the Togruta’s face. “There has just been so much to be done in rebuilding the Republic, that we never really broached the subject.”

“Okay, so moving beyond my obvious ignorance,” Velus said sarcastically, “this criminal you’ve brought in: you said he’s magical and whatnot. He can kill people with his mind. Like Vader.”

“Definitely.”

“And he controls the killer crystals you mentioned before, these kyber.”

“Yes.”

“You saved his life because you realized only a Sith can destroy them, or so you think.”

“Well, I’m the one who nearly killed him, but overall, you’re correct. And it does have to be done by a Dark Side acolyte. The violent way they reject the light is near deadly.”

“Well,” Sinjir tilted his head pensively. “I can see why, in the moment, you needed him alive. But you said you’ve sensed that these kyber are subdued now. If you need them destroyed so badly, why don’t we just find another Sith while we keep this one incarcerated? Does it need to be him that helps you nullify them?”

“There is no one else,” Ahsoka explained. “Vader actually had the formal title of Darth Vader. Unknown to almost everyone, Palpatine called himself Darth Sidious. Members of the Sith would all shed their given names upon attaining a certain level of proficiency and knowledge, officially becoming Dark Lords. They considered these new names to be their true identity. Maul was actually known as Darth Maul. He was Sidious’s first apprentice.”

“And you’re sure there are no others?” Lieda asked.

“Yes. There are no true Dark Lords of the Sith left. Part of their philosophy was that there can only be two at a given time. This is how the cult was able to exist virtually undetected for a thousand years.”

“But this person – Maul – has been alive this entire time,” Sondiv objected. “If there were already two, with Darth Vader and the Emperor…”

“Maul was stripped of his position decades ago.” Ahsoka said. “He wasn’t recognized as a member of the Sith anymore than the Inquisitors were. They were still all Dark Side users, but never allowed access to the ancient knowledge passed down from generations of Sith lineage. What makes Maul different from them is that he was exposed to these teachings, was probably raised in those teachings, actually. With his arsenal of knowledge – which likely includes the secret locations of ancient Sith temples – it is not an exaggeration to say that he can revive the cult. Who is to stop him now that his old master is dead?”

“Do you truly believe this is what he means to do?” the chancellor asked anxiously.

At this, Ahsoka remained quiet, pensive. She had been thinking over this very subject during her trip to the Core. On one hand, if Maul aimed to become a true Dark Lord again, to take up the mantle of Darth, why had he waited for so long, isolated on Tatooine? Had she not arrived on the desert planet and reawakened the bled kyber, would he have sought them out at all, or continued to live a life of hermitage? The Sith that was Darth Maul is dead. Obi-Wan’s words echoed back into her mind, but she wouldn’t hold it past the Zabrak to return to the sect now that he had no real opposition in the Dark Side. And during their duel in the desert, he had seemed possessive of his past as a Sith Lord, or at least, of the kyber crystals. When he had told her that other than their original masters, they had only accepted him, there had been a distinct sense of pride in his words. He had not abandoned the Dark Side. She doubted if he ever would.

In the end, she merely shrugged, unable to provide a definite answer. “I don’t want to take that chance,” she simply responded.

“The question now becomes: how do we get someone like Maul to cooperate with you in destroying the threat of these gems?” Sondiv said.

“I’ve been wondering about this since I came across the things,” Ahsoka said. “Especially once I saw how bonded they already were to him. I doubt that he is going to willingly destroy them. He already made it perfectly clear to me on more than one occasion that if this is my goal, I can go pound sand.” She frowned. “However, maybe the crystals don’t have to be destroyed. My own kyber crystals used to belong to an Inquisitor. Once I managed to take them from him, I was able to purify them.”

“How?” asked Lieda.

“I purged them of the darkness infecting them, that had been forced onto them by the Inquisitor I took them from. It was more of a healing than a cleansing. It was painful for them to go through, but together, we were successful. The issue with this tactic is that the crystals themselves have to be willing participants, which I don’t think these two will be. However, maybe if Maul can convince them to relinquish the darkness…” She allowed her voice to trail off wistfully and sighed, shaking her head. “It’s a long shot, and not something he’s going to want either. But I cannot think of any other way that wouldn’t endanger people’s lives.”

“So…” Velus began, his eyebrow raised skeptically, “you want to reform this guy. Is that what you’re getting at?”

The Togruta stared blankly at Mon Mothma’s advisor. Quite frankly, the thought had never crossed her mind. She had thought perhaps there could be a way to cajole Maul into a compromise: he got to keep the kyber crystals, but only if he purged them of the wickedness within them, nullifying their threat. However, it had never dawned on her that in order for the Zabrak to even do so successfully, he probably had to abandon the Dark Side first. Once Velus put things as bluntly as that… she had to concede that it was a rather absurd notion.

“How can we help?” Mon Mothma asked immediately. Both her advisors looked at her, surprised.

“Mon, that is an unattainable goal,” Velus said quickly. “It’s like someone trying to convert Vader.”

Ahsoka couldn’t help but grin to herself a little. Unbeknownst to those around her, Darth Vader had in reality been Anakin Skywalker, her old master, turned to the Dark Side. It had been painful for her to come to terms with that truth, harder still for her to accept that she couldn’t help him return to the light. At one time, she had felt just the way that Sinjir Velus did, that redemption was beyond Anakin’s reach. But she had been proven wrong, with the emergence of Luke Skywalker starting a chain reaction that eventually led to Anakin’s return and the destruction of the Emperor. She was unable to say anything about it now, however, for Luke had asked her to please keep the truth hidden. With the tumultuous state of the galaxy at large, as the New Republic Coalition struggled to form a functioning government while still wrangling with conflicted star systems and reemerging criminal syndicates, Luke and Leia had felt it prudent to wait before revealing the reality about their father. That she knew of, even Mon Mothma was unaware that Vader and Anakin were one and the same.

Of course, just because Luke was able to get through to his father and bring Skyguy back to the surface, didn’t mean she’d have the same success with Maul. After all, Luke was Anakin’s son, there had been a true connection there. Between her and the Zabrak, however, there had never been anything other than open distrust of one another. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to try; she was so wary of him. However, Obi-Wan had said the fate of the entire galaxy could depend on those crystals. She ran a hand over her face exasperatedly. Why, why did Maul still have to be alive and complicate everything? Damnit, old man! she thought to herself.

You wanted this chaos, she heard his velvety voice whisper sinisterly in her mind. She frowned with a start and sat up straighter in her seat. Had that just been her memory, or…?

Looking around the table, she realized the conversation had moved on without her. Mon Mothma and Velus were discussing Ahsoka’s stint on Rodia, with the man pointing out that it was precisely because Navik’s government now likely knew the identity of Darth Maul that they needed to move quickly.

“We know they tried to sabotage Fulcrum’s mission for their own financial gain,” Velus said. “We need to use that knowledge to our advantage in order to pressure Navik into shutting down those weapons production facilities, or at least slow their production of heavy artillery and munitions. So many of them end up in the underground, used by pirates and cartels against the very Republic they claim to wish to work with.”

“But there’s so much we don’t know about what happened in Tyrius after Agent Tano lost consciousness on her ship,” Lieda countered. “Do the Rodians even know she managed to escape? Do they think she’s the one who killed their men?”

“If they do, they’re not saying it,” Velus said dryly. “I finally managed to speak to one of them today. Not Wieedo, mind you. That squat toad is keeping himself ‘unavailable’ for the moment being. But the assistant I spoke with assured me that Agent Fulcrum left the Tyrius system with no issue exactly one standard week ago.”

“One week?” the Togruta said with a raised eye ridge, rejoining the discussion. “That’s how long it took me to travel here from Ryloth, what with the areas along the Corellian Run that are forcing ships to slow down.”

“We’ve been trying to stop the burgeoning smuggling problem that we’ve seen since the Empire fell,” Sondiv explained. “A lot of these pirates took advantage of the chaos of the war to run rampant with illegal trade, from sentient trafficking to the spice exchange. Sorry it caused a delay on your trip. We wish there had been a way to get you here sooner.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the former Padawan said with a shrug. “The important thing is that I’m here now. But what I was getting at was that if the Rodians are saying I left Tyrius only a week ago, that means they’re not counting the two days I was stopped over in Tatooine again. Of course, they probably don’t know I was there. But it seems unlikely that it would have taken them two whole days to find whatever Maul left of their Home Fleet and Goa Ato mercenaries in the outskirts of their system. If they’re saying I left two days later than when I did, that means they’re trying to buy themselves some time before suspicion falls on them, and they have to answer to Madam Mothma.”

“All the more reason we need to start to squeeze Navik,” Sinjir stated flatly. “We tell them Fulcrum has reached out to us, insinuate that we know about the trap they laid for her. It would be highly problematic for them if word got out of this. Navik’s government has been trying to convince the rest of the galaxy that they are a civilized world, victims forced to abide by the oppressive rule of the Empire.”

“You mean to blackmail the Rodians,” Sondiv said pensively.

“Damn right I do.”

“It won’t work,” Mon Mothma interjected. “Unfortunately, Navik’s government has more to gain than we do if we begin to apply pressure using this issue. I will admit now that aiding Ahsoka was a mistake on my part.”

At this, the ex-Jedi looked over at the woman, surprised.

“How do you mean?” Velus demanded before Ahsoka had a chance to.

“Well,” the Chandrilan began, looking kindly over to the Togruta, “please, do not take this the wrong way, my dear, for I am not blaming you for any of this. I understand you were in a precarious situation, and although I cannot think of another way this may have been resolved, by using my influence as chancellor to sway Navik into compliance, I placed myself and my political career in jeopardy.”

“Explain,” Velus said bluntly. His sharp eyes were fixated in an intense stare at the auburn-haired woman, his posture rigid. Had Ahsoka not been eager for answers herself, she would have marveled at the instant change in the man’s demeanor. She could see flashes of the loyalty officer he used to be.

“You are all aware that I relinquished the emergency powers of the chancellery shortly after the Military Disarmament Act was passed,” the elder woman said. “That included the executive power over the purse. The truth is: I had no real way to command the Rodians to allow us the use of their medical facilities. Not without causing an uproar in the Senate. Thus, I had to act outside of my capacity as Chancellor. I’m sure they didn’t question my request immediately because they were completely in the dark as to the identity of Ahsoka’s captive. And although she did her best to keep them ignorant, we can now safely assume that Navik and his people have figured out exactly who they were asked to save. If we push them with this information, the story that gets out won’t be of how the Rodians attempted to sabotage a Republic mission and tried to assassinate an emissary from the central government, but rather how I coerced an independent world – one who, as you pointed out, Sinjir, is trying to rewrite their involvement with the Empire and present themselves as helpless slaves to a larger galactic system – into aiding and abetting a renown criminal, one of the greatest masterminds the underground has known, certainly in our lifetimes. If that narrative gets out – which it most certainly will, if Dor Wieedo has anything to do with it – many systems will leave the New Republic, including the Rodians. What little sway we hold over Navik’s government and his treatment of the Rodian people will be gone.”

After a tense moment of silence, Velus ran a hand through his hair. “Well, shit.” Absentmindedly, he reached for the ornate, slender, teal bottle on the table and refilled his glass.

“Madam…” Ahsoka began, at a loss.

“Mon, the procedure was astronomically expensive!” Sondiv said anxiously. “We know the Rodians overcharged for their services.”

“Of course, they did,” Sinjir said darkly. “They wanted to gauge how desperate you were to receive their help. Navik the Red is many things, most of them horrible, but a fool is not one of them.”

“When the Galactic Senate finds out all those funds are missing from the Treasury…!” Sondiv shook his head.

“They won’t,” Lieda assured them with a small smile. “Because that money didn’t come from the Treasury.”

“Oh, don’t tell me…!” Velus moaned.

“Yes, Sinjir,” the chancellor explained calmly. “I financed this venture myself, with funds from my family’s estate.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened, and her lekku flushed vibrantly. “Madam Mothma, I didn’t intend –” she stammered, “you really shouldn’t have –”

Mon Mothma turned to the Togruta and fixated her in place with her trademark cool and steady gaze. “If you are about to apologize, my dear, don’t. Understand, I did not just do this because you asked it as a favor of me. I, too, have a vested interest in making sure the Zabrak lives.”

“Why?” Velus asked, direct as always. Ahsoka was really starting to like this man.

At this, the chancellor cleared her throat. Ahsoka noticed the woman looked slightly uncomfortable. Her fair skin had taken on a slight blush at the tips of her ears. This was mostly hidden by the auburn hair framing her face, but the Togruta noticed. She also saw how the older woman cast her gaze down to her hands, which were now clasped tightly in her lap. Lieda reached out immediately and placed a reassuring hand on her mother’s shoulder.

“I will admit,” Mon Mothma began quietly, “that my initial reaction upon receiving the news that you had almost killed Darth Maul was relief. I felt it better that he be allowed to die. The stars above know he deserves it.” She shook her head sadly. “You, my dear Ahsoka, are a much better person than I. Here you were, trying to save one who you had nearly slain in self-defense, someone despicable and vindictive, cruel. Someone who had no merits and nothing of value to offer the galaxy. Someone who has tried to kill you before, and likely will attempt to do so again. Your foe. You Jedi truly are remarkable people.”

Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Not only did she not consider herself a true Jedi anymore, but… “You make me sound like a saint,” she muttered. “I’m not as altruistic as you believe. As I told you before, as I said just now – I need Maul alive to handle those kyber. Nothing more.”

“We both know that isn’t all there is to the matter,” Mon Mothma replied gently, and this time, it was the Togruta who looked down at her lap. “You seemed genuinely concerned. Your generosity and empathy never cease to amaze me. This is why you were crucial as a Fulcrum. Others naturally gravitated towards you, and once they joined your ranks, became fiercely loyal. There was simply no way I could refuse your request. You reminded me that I still have much to learn in the forgiveness department.”

Ahsoka looked up and met the chancellor’s gaze with a questioning look. There was something about the way Mon Mothma described the Dathomirian that puzzled the former spy. The Chandrilan was fierce with her words, very certain. As though she knew firsthand how horrible Maul truly was. It made Ahsoka wonder, but she didn’t dare to ask.

“Now that he’s out of danger, however,” the woman continued, “it is imperative that he be brought to justice.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka agreed immediately. “That is why I brought him here.”

“No reforming, then?” Velus asked.

“I see no reason why we can’t do both,” Mon Mothma said. “This is what a true penal system is supposed to be for. We shouldn’t just seek to incarcerate and abandon criminals into oblivion. They should be punished, that is a given, but we should also allow them the opportunity to become functioning members of society once more.”

“I don’t think that’s something Maul has ever been,” Ahsoka quipped.

“What makes you think he’ll want to?” Sondiv asked.

“I don’t believe he’d want to,” the chancellor clarified. “We need to leave him no other choice.”

“The question is: how the kriff do we go about doing that?” Velus asked.

“Well…” the Togruta tilted her head thoughtfully. “In the past, the Jedi Council would have handled cases such as this. There was no group better suited for handling renegade Force-sensitives. In fact, had Palpatine not enacted Order 66 when he did, I would have handed Maul over to the Council after I’d captured him on Mandalore. I can’t say I know what they would have done with him, though. At that time, I was no longer part of the Order. They never would have disclosed such information to a civilian like me.”

“Unfortunately for us, there is no Jedi Council anymore,” Sondiv said. “No Jedi at all, or hardly any. You and Skywalker can hardly begin to call yourselves an Order.”

“There are other survivors of the Purge besides me,” Ahsoka corrected. “And new Force-sensitives are emerging throughout the galaxy. But you’re right. There is no institution as strong as the Jedi were.”

“Which means we’ll have to deal with Maul ourselves,” Mon Mothma concluded. “And this is precisely why, after initially speaking to you, Ahsoka, I decided to help you despite the risks. If we, as a new government, can reform a criminal as treacherous as Darth Maul, if we can prove to the galaxy at large that we are a strong enough democratic institution to handle a Force user and bring him to justice, imagine the boost of confidence that would supply the New Republic with. More star systems would have their faith in a just government restored. Not to mention, it would help to ease the underlying tensions that linger regarding people who can use the Force, like you. The Empire did much to damage the reputation of various Force sects, especially the Jedi. Even with young Luke Skywalker acting as a beacon of hope throughout the galaxy, there are many cultures that still harbor feelings of mistrust and prejudice against those born strong in the Force. In some cultures, children are even being sacrificed if they show any affinity at all, or so rumor has reached us.”

“Although I appreciate your intentions and sentiments,” the ex-Jedi said, “I think you may be expecting too much from Maul. He will not agree to any of this.”

“I don’t expect results overnight,” Mon Mothma stated. “This may take years, of course. And in the meantime, we will keep him apprehended. However, it’s something to look forward to, and I think something positive and meaningful can come from this. In the meantime, we will need to call for a session with the Republic Tribunal so charges can be formally brought up against Maul.”

At this, the Togruta started. “Wait, you want to send him to trial‽”

“Well, of course,” Mon Mothma replied. “This is what civilized governments do, my dear.”

“But that may take months, perhaps years…!” Ahsoka protested.

“Definitely years, once word gets out and different star systems come forward with their grievances against this guy,” Sinjir agreed. “If he’s as notorious as you claim, Mon, I’m sure there will be plenty of independent governments that will begin clamoring for blood.”

“I don’t have the luxury of that much time in dealing with these crystals,” Ahsoka said pointedly.

“Which is why we will need to work with him while he awaits judgement,” the chancellor stated firmly. “We might even be able to use the charges that arise against him as leverage to get him to cooperate.” The woman looked at the Togruta fondly. “Don’t worry, my dear. We will get him to acquiesce to your demands.”

Ahsoka frowned. She felt her heart pounding in her chest somewhat erratically. She knew the chancellor was doing the best she could, and trying to be fair, but the idea didn’t sit well with the Togruta at all. She had hoped the New Republic would be able to bring swift action down upon the Dathomirian and keep him incarcerated in some maximum-security location. However, if he were to go to trial, and it dragged out, he would likely be kept in holding within a regular facility on the planet where his hearing was to take place. Meaning, Chandrila, since the Republic Tribunal was based there still. He would be able to break his way out easily.

“You need to reconsider, Madam,” she insisted. “Maul is too dangerous to be kept near civilization. You are putting way too much faith in humanity he doesn’t have.”

“The New Republic is far more capable than you believe,” the chancellor replied.

“Maul is far more sinister than you dream possible,” the Togruta countered. “You’ve never dealt with him the way I have.”

“In either case,” Sondiv interrupted, obviously trying to keep the back-and-forth from developing into a full-blown argument, “it’s still too soon to decide. Either the High Command or the Galactic Senate would have to make a formal request from the Judiciary in order for the Tribunal to convene.” He looked around the table skeptically, “So, first thing would be to get the High Command to agree to it, because I highly doubt the Senate will ever reach unanimous consent, which is what is needed for the Tribunal request.”

“So much red tape…” Velus grumbled into his drink. Ahsoka wholeheartedly agreed. This was the reason she detested politics. It was no wonder the Jedi Council had often been frustrated by what they felt was a lack of progress and action within the old Republic. It seemed to her that these problems in the system had carried over to the new government.

“Will you need all members of the High Command to agree unanimously as well?” Ahsoka wanted to know.

“Fortunately, no,” Sondiv replied. “Since the High Command oversees the military, their demands hold more weight, because they usually involve matters of intergalactic security. As long as all admirals and generals vote ‘present,’ the decision can be made by as little as three officers. With this, the chancellor can formalize the request and send it over to the Judiciary.”

Ahsoka sighed. The situation at hand certainly wasn’t what she was hoping for when she’d reached out to Mon Mothma for help. Already, she could tell the matter would stagnate in the political process. Sabine had been right to warn her that this side mission would derail her original plans to help in the search for Ezra and Thrawn. If there was one thing that could drain her mentally more than handling the renegade Sith, it was dealing with politicians.

“Sinjir can work on that end, reaching out to the High Command,” Mon Mothma said, to which Velus shrugged resignedly. “Meanwhile, Sondiv, please get in touch with the Defense Fleet Headquarters. I want to know the exact location within the citadel that the Zabrak Darth Maul is being kept at.”

“They were instructed to touch base with me as soon as he awakens,” Sondiv replied. “He must still be unconscious. I’ll reach out to them either way. Would you also like for me to set up a trip to the facility so you can personally inspect the holding cell?”

“Absolutely,” the chancellor agreed, then, casting a quick glance in the Togruta’s direction, the woman added, “make arrangements for this as soon as possible, and make sure we secure a transport vehicle large enough to accommodate four passengers. I would like you, Sinjir and Ahsoka to accompany me.”

Sondiv nodded, then looked over to Velus and grinned. “Well, we’ve got our marching orders, Sinjir. Best we get to it. As always, thank you for the delicious meal, Mon. The Mothma hospitality never fails to impress.”

The auburn-haired woman smiled kindly at her advisors as the two men rose to their feet and bobbed their heads politely. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies,” Sondiv said while Velus pushed in his chair. “We will notify you the moment arrangements are complete, Mon.” Velus merely nodded curtly in agreement. Ahsoka could see his mind was already on his job.

As soon as the men were gone from the room, Mon Mothma turned her attention to the Togruta. “How are you faring, my dear? I must say, you don’t look too well. You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Was it not to your liking?” Lieda asked anxiously.

Ahsoka’s lekku flushed a bit, and she shook her head. “That’s not it,” she assured the women. “The meal certainly tasted delicious. It’s only that…” She looked out one of the windows wistfully. Outside, the sunshine danced and sparkled over the ripples of Lake Sah’ot. She wished she could appreciate the tranquil scenery, but the oppressive feeling of despair that had enveloped her since reaching the Bromea sector had yet to leave her.

“I understand your concern,” the chancellor said quietly. “Believe me, I do. This may not be the manner in which the Jedi Council handled their affairs, but as a democracy, there are rules and procedures that have to be followed. You have done your part. Now it is time for you to allow the government to do ours.”

Ahsoka nodded without a word and kept her gaze averted out the window. “I do trust the Republic,” she said. “I certainly trust you. But I know Maul. I’ve seen the amount of death and destruction he is capable of, without hesitation, without remorse.” She shrugged and allowed the corners of her mouth to twitch up in a small, mischievous grin. “Perhaps I’ll feel better once I see that he has been properly secured in a vault somewhere.” She kept her tone light, hoping she gave off the impression that she wasn’t feeling as forlorn as she did.

Her tactic seemed to work, for Lieda laughed aloud, and Mon Mothma smiled.

“We hopefully won’t have long to wait before Sondiv comes to fetch us, so we can all head over to Defense Headquarters and you can see the security implementations for yourself. In the meantime, Lieda can show you around the estate before settling you into your room.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, Madam,” she began, flustered. “That really isn’t necessary. My shuttle has adequate sleeping quarters. If I am to remain here for a few days, I have no issues sleeping there. In fact, I’d prefer it, since all of my personal belongings are aboard my ship.”

“Nonsense, Ahsoka,” the chancellor said sternly. “While we resolve this issue, you are to be a guest in my home. We have all the amenities necessary; I assure you. My previous advisor before Sinjir was Togruta, so I am well aware of your people’s specific dietary requirements and the like.”

“It would be our pleasure to have you here with us,” Lieda agreed. “My mother has been under constant duress over the past few months, dealing with day-to-day politics. I’ve been trying to convince her to retire soon. You may not see it, but you being here has really transformed her. I haven’t seen her this relaxed and content in a long time.”

“Now, Lieda…” Mon Mothma chided gently, clicking her tongue at her daughter. The young woman laughed again. Ahsoka found she liked the sound: quiet and sweet, like the rest of her disposition. She couldn’t help but smile. “Besides,” the chancellor continued, her expression becoming a bit more solemn. “Don’t think I have forgotten about the reason you are here. I’m assuming these toxic crystals you confiscated from Maul are secured aboard your ship. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” the Togruta nodded.

“You spent much of our meal, my dear, detailing how dangerous these things are, and how they have a negative effect on others, especially those strong in the Force, like you. Although we could keep them for you in a secure location, if you so wish, I think they would be better off in your direct possession for the moment being. You most certainly cannot remain aboard your vessel. They will make you sick.”

Ahsoka frowned slightly, but she knew the chancellor had a point. “You’re right, Madam,” she admitted. “I should still return to my T-6, however, so I can grab a few personal belongings. I’ll need a change of clothes, at the very least.”

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that,” Lieda said. “We have plenty of clothes here. In fact, I think you fit into Auxi’s old garments. She was the Togruta advisor my mother spoke of. She was also a good family friend and would stay here on occasion. One of our droids can take your measurements and make adjustments to them, if necessary.”

“That is an excellent idea, my dear,” Mon Mothma said. “Auxi hated waste. She would never forgive me if she found out I’ve been holding on to her old things for so long.” She looked at Ahsoka a bit sheepishly. “I’ve simply never had the heart to throw them away, and although I’ve been wanting to donate them, I hadn’t found the right person for them to go to. They are traditional garb, in the style of Shili. Who better to appreciate them than someone of her own culture?”

Ahsoka felt her lekku flush deeply, and she bowed her head in gratitude. From the way the two women spoke, she could ascertain that this advisor had already passed away. She didn’t consider herself a true Shili native, as she had been raised far away from her home planet in the tradition of the Jedi. The only thing remotely ethnic she possessed was her original Akul tooth headdress, which she had worn during her time as a Padawan. However, she felt it rude to point out this fact. Instead, she decided to accept the gift and perhaps take the opportunity to learn about and appreciate her native culture.

“Now that we’ve settled things, I too, need to get going,” the chancellor said, rising to her feet. Ahsoka and Lieda immediately followed suit. “Sinjir is correct about insisting that we put some type of pressure on the Rodians. Although I won’t be able to wrangle them into compliance the way we all wish, I must still make contact with Navik. I am curious to see what his reaction will be once he realizes you have returned to us. This might help us piece together what happened after you were rendered unconscious, at the very least.”

Together, the three of them left the dining room. From there, they headed back towards the living room area, at which point Mon Mothma headed towards a door at one end of it. Lieda hooked her arm amicably through Ahsoka’s own and guided her towards the entrance of the house instead. “Come this way, Agent Tano,” she said with a smile. “I’ll show you my favorite spot beside the lake.”

Chapter Text

Ahsoka found she really enjoyed Lieda’s company. The young woman was mature beyond her years and was keenly observant of the world around her. She walked the Togruta around her family’s estate, all the while talking about the history of Chandrila, and the role her forbearers played in its government. Apparently, the chancellor was not the first person from her lineage to take an active role in politics.

“Like many of the first settlers of Chandrila, our family was largely agrarian,” Lieda explained. “My ancestors were mainly farmers and merchants. Because of their ties to the merchant trade, over time, the Mothmas became more invested in business affairs, and thus, politics and governance. My grandmother, Tanis, actually served as governess of the Chandrilan House before the onset of the Clone Wars, and her husband, Artar, was an arbiter-general for the Galactic Republic. It was only natural for my mother to follow in their footsteps. It’s been a distinct point of pride for our family, to serve the public. I would have entered the political sphere as well, were it not for the fact that I know how much my mother is against the idea.”

The young woman went on to detail how she had lost her older brother during the Galactic Civil War. He had been little more than a boy when he died – only nineteen years old – but he had already begun forging a promising military career within the Rebellion. “Were he alive now, Jobin would have made his way into High Command, I’m sure of it,” Lieda said fondly. “He was so tenacious, and very righteous. He was like my mother in that way, but as feisty as Father. He was a wonderful brother. I miss him very much.” The girl paused for a moment, lost in her memories and grief. Ahsoka said nothing, allowing Lieda to come out of her thoughts at her own pace. She could sense the woman’s pain and love for her sibling through her Life Force; her emotions were potent still, even though almost a decade had passed since the Battle of Hoth, which is where he had perished, she had told the Togruta. After a moment, Lieda continued: “I cannot begin to imagine how difficult it was for Mother to lose him so soon after Father passed. My father was on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan when The Disaster occurred. Our family has sacrificed so much for the sake of peace and the survival of democracy, that I cannot allow myself to become directly involved in the same way if that means I’ll run the risk of one day being another loss for my mother. She doesn’t deserve that. Instead, I work for the Chandrilan House as an Environmental Ambassador. I try to teach the people of Chandrila, and even surrounding worlds within Bromea, of the importance of maintaining planetary ecosystems. I also work within the team that drafts new laws on environmental conservation.”

“That is noble work,” Ahsoka said, smiling.

“Thank you,” Lieda replied. “I think so, too. It may not be as glamorous or prominent as holding office, but it can be extremely rewarding, nonetheless. And Mother is much more at ease this way.”

After their walk around the grounds, Lieda took Ahsoka back inside the dacha and guided her upstairs, where she showed the Togruta the room she would be staying at. It was elegantly furnished – as everything else in the home was – but in contrast to the calming pastels of the rest of the house, this particular room was painted in earthen tones and decorated in vivid primary colors. The furniture, too, looked rustic in an artisan-like kind of way.

“This is the room where our family friend, Auxi Kray Korbin, would stay during her visits,” Lieda explained. “Mother insisted on having her decorate this room to her liking, because she wanted her to feel at home here. After she passed, we couldn’t bear to change a thing, even if it runs contrary to the rest of the décor.”

Ahsoka smiled as she looked around the room, the afternoon sun filtering in through the large windows casting everything in a beautiful golden glow. “I can tell you all must have loved her dearly,” she said.

“She was like an aunt to me,” Lieda agreed. “It saddens me that her children no longer visit Chandrila since her death a few years back, although I understand their reasons. I’m not sure I will ever set foot on Hoth, and not just because it is such a desolate tundra. Knowing that was the location where my brother was murdered…” She sighed. “Hanna City must carry the same pain for Auxi’s family.”

“She died in the capital?” Ahsoka was a bit surprised by the news.

Lieda remained quiet for a while, and Ahsoka could sense a cold anger flare up in the young woman’s aura. Her smooth brow furrowed at the memory as she recalled, “A traitorous vermin – Tolwar Wartol – planted a bomb in my mother’s office within the Senate House. At the time, my mother had left for a moment and left Auxi handling affairs in her place. This all happened while the Battle of Jakku was taking place, so someone needed to remain on top of everything. Senator Wartol did not approve of the military operation on Jakku. Not because he was in favor of the Empire, but rather simply to undermine my mother’s leadership. When he detonated the device, Auxi was caught in the blast and died.” Lieda turned her aquamarine eyes to meet Ahsoka’s gaze, unshed tears making them shine brightly. “As I told you before: we Mothmas have lost many in our family to public service. At times, it can be too much.”

The Togruta reached over instinctively to the young woman and squeezed her arm gently. She understood Lieda’s sense of indignant loss all too well. Even though it had been decades since the Clone Wars and Order 66, Ahsoka was still plagued by her feelings of bereavement and guilt at having survived when she knew there were others more deserving of life than she.

Before she could offer up any words of comfort, however, a servant droid rolled in with a quiet hum and informed the pair that the chancellor had requested Ahsoka’s presence downstairs.

“Sondiv must have finished making preparations for your trip to HQ,” Lieda said, walking the former Padawan towards the door. “Before you go, Agent Tano –”

“Ahsoka, please.”

Lieda smiled. “Ahsoka. Would you mind holding still for a moment so Nellie can scan you for your measurements?” She gestured to the NL-6 courtesy droid who had come to fetch her. “This way, by the time you return, we’ll have Auxi’s clothes ready for you.”

Ahsoka did as she was told, feeling awkward and a bit embarrassed the entire time. She still wasn’t sure how comfortable she was with the idea of not only remaining in the luxurious dacha but receiving an entire wardrobe as well. Attire that, she was sure, was a far cry from the simple garments she was used to wearing. However, not wanting to be rude and insult her hosts, she complied.

After her measurements were taken, the Togruta descended the stairs to meet with the chancellor, who, along with both her advisors, was already waiting for her in the living room.

“Ready to go?” Sondiv asked as she approached. “It’s best we head over to the citadel now. I received word that the friend you dropped off has woken up.”

“Maul’s awake already?” Ahsoka was stunned. She had been sure the potency of the Somaprin drip was enough to where the Zabrak would remain unconscious until at least nightfall. She was too shocked by the news to protest the man’s referring to Maul as her friend. He was not the first to do so, and as when Cebb Nereno did so, it irritated her.

“Yes, he apparently came to as I was making arrangements with the DF on securing a suitable craft. The first thing he did was ask for you, they said.”

Ahsoka scowled. The knot of apprehension in her stomach was beginning to unfurl into an angry, writhing mass. It felt as though she’d been invaded by a toxic parasite, and it was reveling in her discomfort.

The group quickly made their way towards the front entrance. Lieda stayed behind, excusing herself and saying she had a conference holo-call to attend to for her job. “I’m supposed to have the day off today,” she had said bashfully, “but we know how that goes.” Ahsoka saw through the ruse, though. She knew the truth was that her mother wanted to keep the young woman out of the affair and away from the Dathomirian for her safety. She could read it on the chancellor’s face, in the way the age lines on her features relaxed as soon as she knew her daughter would remain at the dacha. Ahsoka couldn’t blame her. She wouldn’t want anyone close to her around Maul, either.

Outside, a Defense Fleet soldier was waiting for them beside an armored HL-38.

“Is this really necessary?” Mon Mothma complained with a sigh as the side ramp lowered and another soldier inside the hovervan reached out to help her board. “We are not charging into war, gentlemen.”

“Come on now, Chancellor,” Sondiv chided playfully. “You know these precautions are a must. Even during seemingly peaceful times, your position guarantees you wear a perpetual target on your back.” In a more somber tone, he added, as he stepped into the craft after her, “I would never be able to face Lieda if I allowed something to happen to you.”

“Then it’s probably not a good idea to take her into the same building as one of the most dangerous underground criminals of our time,” quipped Sinjir. This earned the former loyalty officer a death glare from the older man, but Velus merely shrugged it off while Mon Mothma chuckled. Ahsoka boarded last, taking a seat beside Sinjir and across from the chancellor. Once all passengers were buckled in securely, the pilot started up the engines while the second soldier took up the gunner position.

The vehicle had no windows along the sides or back from which the passengers could look out at the terrain, so Ahsoka had no way to see where they were going, or how fast. However, from the feeling of the rumbling engines, she knew they weren’t travelling all that quickly. Larger, bulkier repulsorcraft were often slower, especially the armored variety, like the one they were in. She was impatient, eager to reach their destination, and locking eyes with Mon Mothma across from her, she knew she was not the only one.

Ahsoka didn’t say anything during the trip, instead trying to focus on sensing the flow of the Force around her. She wanted to find solace in the practice, as she often did in the past, but this time, feeling the Force wasn’t helping. Anxiety pulsed within it: her own, Mon Mothma’s, that of the two soldiers… even Sondiv and Sinjir were tense, although the two men were doing their best to suppress it, distracting the chancellor with idle conversation. Sondiv kept interrogating the soldiers regarding their protocol in dealing with threats such as Maul, framing the questions in such a way to where the answers would be positive. He was trying to reassure the Chandrilan woman, often patting her hand supportively and smiling in encouragement when the DF troopers went into detail about security implementations at HQ.

Sinjir Velus was much more skeptical, but after only one sarcastic comment, was wise enough to keep his mouth shut when Sondiv shot him another death glare. Frankly, Ahsoka preferred Sinjir’s blunt – if often pessimistic – assessments. However, everyone was already on edge, so she only patted the younger man’s shoulder sympathetically and returned to her quiet musings.

It took them almost thirty minutes to reach their destination. Ahsoka was the first out the side hatch the instant the vehicle came to a full stop and the ramp lowered. She didn’t even bother to wait for the soldiers to disembark first. They were within a large compound, enclosed by a gigantic wall of stone and durasteel whose height rivaled the tallest wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk. She could see nothing beyond that colossal barrier, but she could hear the rolling ocean waves just beyond. So, they were back by the Silver Sea. It had taken them twice the time to arrive in the area than it had taken her and Sondiv to get to the dacha in the AV-21.

Defense Fleet personnel were already waiting for them and quickly ushered the group inside. The military fortress was enormous, and seemingly new, for everything – from the astromechs wheeling about to the floors, walls, and equipment – gleamed and were in a near-pristine state.

“After Endor, many Imperial bank accounts were confiscated and allocated to creating this fortress,” Mon Mothma said, disapproval evident in her voice. “I wish they had been put to helping rebuild war-ravaged worlds instead. Especially since the Concordance rendered much of the military irrelevant.” She sighed. “It feels like a waste of funds. Although this building is impressive and vast, most of our intergalactic fleet are actually stationed here. Nearly seventy percent.”

“Very obviously not nearly enough personnel to handle a large galactic threat,” muttered Velus, looking around. “The Military Disarmament Act may have been too extreme.”

“Please, Sinjir,” Mon Mothma said curtly, “we’ve discussed this several times before.”

“And you’ve been wrong all those times, Chancellor,” the man replied briskly. However, he quickly bowed and shook his head, abashed. “That was out of turn. I’m sorry, Mon.”

“I know you don’t agree with how the New Republic handles certain affairs,” the Chandrilan replied coolly. “We can take up this conversation later. We are here for a specific purpose, after all.”

“Indeed,” a voice rang out clearly. “So we should quit loitering about and get right to it.” When the Togruta turned to look, she saw an older man in military uniform approach them with long, sure strides. His skin was the same rich mahogany as Sondiv’s, but his once-dark hair was now more silver streaks than anything else. He was much more aged than when Ahsoka had last seen him, but she recognized his face immediately. Mon Mothma smiled at him as he approached.

“Admiral Tallon,” the chancellor said in greeting, bobbing her head politely. “I am sorry for thrusting this charge upon you and your personnel so suddenly. The circumstances called for such measures, unfortunately.”

“Not to worry, Chancellor,” Adar Tallon replied, grinning. “In truth, we were happy to comply. These soldiers haven’t seen this much action since Jakku. I was afraid they would get rusty.”

“If you want someone to thank for all the havoc,” Sondiv corrected, glancing mischievously at the Togruta, “that would be Agent Fulcrum here.”

Ahsoka bowed politely at the admiral. It had been over two decades since she had seen him, another of the lost faces of her past. During the Clone Wars, he had worked closely with Jedi Master Plo Koon, one of her mentors and a dear friend. She had heard rumors that Adar Tallon had perished shortly after the Empire became established. She was glad to find out they were wrong.

“Oh!” exclaimed the older man, his eyes brightening. “I remember you, dear. You are General Koon’s little ‘Soka, aren’t you?”

Hearing the nickname the Kel Dor had referred to her as caught Ahsoka by surprise. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She merely nodded and bowed again, a bit more deeply this time, hoping no one noticed the tears that had sprung up suddenly into her cobalt eyes. “I’m happy to see you’ve survived both wars, Admiral,” she said quietly, keeping her head inclined towards the ground. “I’m sure Master Plo would have agreed.”

She felt the warmth of his strong, calloused hand upon her shoulder, and the older man’s voice took on a gentle tone. “He was as proud of you as he was of his men,” he said solemnly. Knowing the Jedi Master the way she had, she knew this was high praise, for no one had cared more for their clone troopers than Plo Koon. “I served many years with the Jedi,” the admiral continued, “trusted them with my life, and they always followed through. I knew Palpatine was lying about their treason the moment he uttered those blasphemous words. But perhaps we can have some caf at another time to discuss such things and catch up. For now, I think all of you would feel better if you confirmed with your own eyes that we have your criminal well in our control.” He motioned for the group to follow and led the way past the main entrance lobby and down a corridor.

Ahsoka remained quiet during the walk to the elevators and then the ride to the lower levels, where Admiral Tallon explained they were holding Maul in their maximum-security cellblock. She listened intently as he and the chancellor went over the military protocols that were to be followed in situations such as the one that had presented itself. Tallon informed Mon Mothma that the Zabrak didn’t really need to face the full Republic Tribunal, and that option should, in fact, be avoided if the chancellor wished to escape the scandal that would surely arise.

“Politics will inevitably entrench themselves into this matter and stick a wrench into whatever plans you have for this rascal,” he was saying as they walked. “What if he gets off on a technicality? Most of his documented crimes, after all, were committed against the Empire, which many will now see as a favorable thing, and digging further into his transgressions during the Clone War era likely won’t work.” He shrugged. “People have short memories. Not to mention, despite the galaxy at large knowing how terrible the Empire was, most still have unfavorable views of the Jedi Order and the Republic before it. Many systems believe that they paved the way for Palpatine’s rise into a totalitarian figure. For crying out loud: the Separatist Movement is viewed in a much more positive light than before! If this fellow is clever – which his record shows him to be – he will weave the narrative into his favor to gain sympathy. Do you really want to risk any of that?”

“Not a chance!” Velus had said vehemently, but Mon Mothma only shook her head slowly, deep in thought. “We need to trust in the democratic system, Admiral,” was all she said. Her primary advisor looked absolutely frustrated, but he kept further comments to himself.

“A military tribunal will be much more discreet, and carry nearly the same weight,” Adar Tallon insisted. “We keep this quiet, and the Rodians won’t even have to get involved. Let them continue to think Ahsoka is AWOL for a bit longer. You’ll have the Zabrak tried and sentenced before anyone is ever the wiser.”

“People have the right to know what their government is doing!” the chancellor huffed, a bit indignantly. “We cannot continue to do things behind closed doors. Those are Imperial tactics! If word gets out of a secret military trial, people’s trust in our government will erode.”

“I think it’s a necessary risk,” Velus replied, hands clasped behind his back. “I know, I know… take things from whom they’re coming from and with an ample amount of salt.” He rolled his eyes. “But the Empire knew how to run things. This Coalition will fall apart before it truly gets off the ground. More than half of the galaxy is still not a member of the New Republic, Mon. The reason they don’t join isn’t because they don’t have faith in democracy, it’s because the NRC has nothing to show for itself!”

“Nothing to show for itself?” Sondiv Sella finally spoke up. “That’s too harsh an assessment, Sinjir. What about Endor? Jakku? The Concordance?”

“Most of those things were done under the banner of the Rebellion,” Velus shot back. “As an intergalactic governmental entity, the New Republic hasn’t done much. Yes, rebuilding is good, allowing planetary systems to take control of their own resources is also good, but those things are seen as a result of freedom from tyranny, not a working central government. We can’t have a public tribunal take place when there is so much corruption still seeded within members of our own Coalition. The Rodians alone could wreck the entire trial if Navik and Wieedo set their mind to it. I hate to say this, Mon, really, I do, but democracy doesn’t always work. I’m not saying we resort to full-on martial law, but this case is rare and extreme. If we have the military option, I say we allow them to help the democratic process along a bit.”

Mon Mothma shook her head and opened her mouth as though to protest, but Sondiv put his hand up to silence the two and said, “In either case, there’s no use discussing things now. Any decisions should be made after we speak with High Command. I’m assuming you managed to get ahold of them, Sinjir?”

Velus sighed. “Of course I did. Just because I don’t think we’re going about things in the best way, doesn’t mean I will forgo orders.”

“Good,” Sondiv replied. “What did they say?”

“Si-Flachitt is the only general who voted ‘present’ from the start. Said zir squadron’s too occupied with an urgent matter in the Baxel sector to attend the meeting in person. All the other talking heads agreed to meet through holo at 0800 tomorrow. That was as quickly as all could convene.”

“Excellent,” the chancellor said. “This will give Ahsoka time to prepare a proper report on the matter. Is this alright with you, my dear? I know you’re technically retired from service.”

“It’s fine,” Ahsoka answered. In truth, she welcomed such a task. Documenting the recent events might help her organize her thoughts and settle her unease.

By this time, the group had reached the lowest level of the complex. Several empty cells lined either side of the lone hallway. They were small, but not oppressively so, with enough space for a bunk bed, refresher, and shower. Aside from the single bed and universal commode fused into the wall, there was no furniture inside. All of the cells were illuminated brightly by light-emitting diodes embedded into the high ceiling. Rather than bars or a door, the entrance to the individual rooms were sealed with a double layer of energy shielding. One shield was a regular forcefield, Admiral Tallon explained. The second was a contact shock field, guaranteeing a nasty jolt of electricity if whoever was inside tried to damage the cell to escape.

“I admit, they’re impressive… against a normal being,” Ahsoka observed. “A Force wielder would get through them eventually, however. How would the shock field work, if an adept can telekinetically move things without resorting to physical touch?”

“Believe it or not, we thought of that,” the admiral said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Would you perhaps like to try one out for yourself?”

The Togruta blinked in surprise. However, her shocked expression quickly gave way to a grin just as playful as the military man’s.

“Are you giving me permission to break your toys?”

Adar Tallon laughed. “Please do,” he said. “In fact, I’m very curious about how these hold out. You might help us find some flaws we may have overlooked.”

With the chancellor’s permission, Ahsoka entered the first cell in the row, with Admiral Tallon applying shock cuffs onto her neck, wrists, and ankles before allowing her in. Each set of cuffs was programmed with its own code that matched its corresponding cell. Once she was inside, the two fields were activated, and Ahsoka saw how the cuffs responded by lighting up as well. She paced the room, running her hands carefully over the durasteel walls, using the Force to try and feel for any weaknesses in the circuitry beneath the panels. Sensing nothing obvious, she instead made her way to the shields making up the door. She knew to expect pain if she touched the energy fields, but she did so anyway in order to gauge the strength of the electric jolt she knew she would get hit with.

It was rather strong, she had to admit. She might have cried out if she hadn’t been steeling herself already. It amazed her that not only did her hands burn upon touching the first of the forcefields, but more pain also radiated from the cuffs she was wearing, making her joints and even her spine feel weak afterwards.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mon Mothma asked anxiously as she saw the Togruta grimace in pain. Ahsoka clenched her jaw and nodded. She was only able to keep her hands on the shields for a few seconds more before she let her arms drop down to her sides.

“You managed to maintain contact for over ten seconds!” Adar Tallon said, eyebrows raised. “Very impressive!”

Ahsoka grinned, wiping away the sweat that had broken out on her brow. “I must be getting soft,” she quipped with a shrug. “Adherents to the Dark Side will probably last much longer. Most of their training involves torture and pain, from what I know. You might want to ramp up the voltage on these things to where it knocks the prisoner unconscious if they try to touch the shields.”

“Well, we weren’t sure if that would pose a health risk,” the admiral replied from the other side of the barrier. “But I’ll pass the information along to the engineers.”

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, the ex-Jedi said, “Mind if I try one more thing?”

“Not at all,” the man replied. “Do your worst, Agent Tano.”

Ahsoka turned to face the small cot, took a deep breath, and focused. Making sure not to touch anything, she reached out towards the bed and used her Living Force to pull it towards her, trying to rip it off the wall. At first, she felt the metal hinges begin to give. The wall groaned as the moorings of the bed struggled to come loose. But then, quite suddenly, the collar around her neck sent out a strong electrical surge throughout her body that radiated pain down her spine and broke her concentration. The Togruta gasped as the remaining shackles quickly followed suit. Her legs buckled, and she fell to the floor, landing heavily on her knees.

“Ahsoka!” she heard both Mon Mothma and Sondiv cry out simultaneously. There was a shocked “Fulcrum!” from Velus. Their voices sounded muffled, as though from a great distance. It appeared the electric shock had even affected her montrals.

“I’m fine!” the former Padawan managed to call out, but she was trembling in exertion. The moment she had fallen, the electrical current stopped, leaving aching aftereffects along her joints. She felt the cuffs deactivate and come undone while the forcefields came down. Adar Tallon was instantly at her side, putting an arm firmly around her shoulders and helping her stand.

“The contact shock field is designed to activate the cuffs if anything within the cell is damaged in any way,” he explained apologetically. “We put in this feature keeping telekinetic powers in mind. I’m sorry I wasn’t more specific in my explanation.”

The Togruta smiled weakly at him and shook her head. “It’s all right, really, I’m all right. It’s a relief, actually, to see that these implements work so well. I’ll be able to sleep easier knowing Maul is locked up in one of these.”

Velus had walked into the cell with them and picked up the cuffs from the floor where they’d fallen. “It sounded like you hit the ground pretty hard,” he said, handing the shackles over to the admiral. “We should get you checked out by a medical droid. You’ll at the very least get some nasty bruising.”

Ahsoka gave out a short laugh. “Not as bad a bruising as my ego just took,” she replied with a grin.

“Oh, Ahsoka…” began Mon Mothma worriedly.

“Really, Madam, everyone. I’m fine. It was only a fall. At least we now know Maul will have some trouble trying to escape. Seems like the funds were well spent on this place after all. It’s good to have this type of holding facility.”

“This isn’t a real prison,” Admiral Tallon clarified. “These cells aren’t meant to be used long-term, merely in the interim while convicts or war criminals are processed and shipped out. We made them as sturdy as possible because we needed them to be as strong as those you’d have in a maximum-security location, since presumably, all sorts of dangerous folk will be housed here at some point. These cells were actually designed with Darth Vader in mind, even though he was already dead when we built this place. We figured: if we were able to create something robust enough to handle the Emperor’s Enforcer, no one else would have a chance of escaping custody. I never thought we’d be holding an actual Sith in one.”

“Speaking of the old man,” the Togruta said, hands on her hips. “We should head on over to pay him a visit, make sure he’s settled in.” Stepping out into the hallway, she craned her neck in order to peer down the long corridor. “Which of these is his?” She noticed they all looked empty, at least from where she stood.

“He hasn’t been assigned to one yet,” the admiral said as he and Velus joined her and the others in the hall. “We’ve kept him in a containment chair since he was brought in. He’s currently being questioned in one of the cross-examination rooms at the far end.”

“Admiral,” Mon Mothma began, clearly annoyed, “why would you begin the process before our arrival?”

“My apologies, Madam Chancellor,” Adar Tallon replied. “We had no real choice in the matter. He is well-versed in political affairs, this one. He knows his Basic Rights.” As they resumed walking down the passage towards the rooms the admiral had mentioned, he turned to look pointedly at the Togruta. “The first thing he did upon regaining consciousness was ask for you,” he told her. “The second thing he demanded was legal counsel.”

Beside her, Velus groaned. “He’s already playing the system,” he said with a scowl.

“He can try,” Mon Mothma replied assertively. “But he will not succeed.”

Ahsoka wasn’t sure she believed the chancellor. She hated to be as pessimistic as Velus, but the man’s instincts seemed accurate.

Once they reached the appropriate door, Admiral Tallon swiped his clearance card into the security console beside it. This caused the cover to slide over to the side, revealing a lighted touchscreen keypad, where he punched in a code. After this, the buttons disappeared, replaced on the touchscreen by the silhouette of a hand. The military officer placed his hand over it and the locking mechanism of the door finally clicked upon completing the scan. The Defense Fleet certainly was taking many precautions.

The room on the other side was not much larger than the cells, so it felt a bit crowded once all five of them were inside. There were three hover chairs positioned before the wall opposite the door. In the corner of said wall was another door, also with a security console that Ahsoka guessed was just as complex to get by as the previous one. Adar Tallon motioned to the chairs. “Ladies first, if you please,” he said, addressing her and the Chandrilan. Mon Mothma nodded and took the middle seat, but the Togruta didn’t move. “Thank you, but I’d rather stand,” she said politely. “I’ve done plenty of sitting during my trip here.”

The admiral raised an eyebrow, but didn’t insist, instead turning to the chancellor’s advisors. “Gentlemen?”

“I’m fine like this,” Velus answered, leaning back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back. Ahsoka could tell he was tense, on edge. She could sympathize.

“I will take a seat, thank you,” Sondiv answered, sitting beside Mon Mothma to her left. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Oh, I hear you, Advisor,” Tallon replied, sinking into the remaining chair with a sigh. He then tapped a small keypad in the recliner’s armrest, and the wall before them slid up into the ceiling, revealing a full-sized window made of thick transparisteel.

Beyond the clear partition was another room, about the same size as the one they were in now, except with no chairs. Instead, in the middle of it was a heavy metal table bolted into the floor. It was rectangular, with rounded corners. The table was placed in a way to where those watching through the window had a clear view of both interrogator and the subject being questioned. In this case, a young woman with platinum-blonde hair pulled back in a crisp bun and wearing a blue military uniform was leaning on the edge of the table, while holding a datapad in one hand. She appeared to be reading something off the handheld computer to her questionee.

Even though he was inside what Ahsoka could only describe as a bulky contraption that looked like a cross between a restraining pod and a repulsorlift chair, the former Padawan could clearly make out Maul’s pattered red-and-black hands shackled to the armrests, as well as most of his face. Energy binders crisscrossed over his entire body – from his shoulders all the way to his ankles – pinning the Nightbrother securely in place. Furthermore, he was outfitted with some type of armored metal collar that had a minute power cell located at the back, near the base of his skull. Ahsoka wasn’t sure what it was, but she had seen similar devices used on livestock. She wanted to ask if, in fact, that was a neural control collar, but she was immediately distracted. As soon as the window was fully exposed, the Zabrak had cast a quick glance in their direction, his golden eyes briefly meeting Ahsoka’s blue ones before returning his attention to the woman before him with a smirk.

“Can he see us?” Velus asked quietly, eyes narrowing. He walked forward to the window and stared intently into the adjacent room.

Admiral Tallon shook his head as he fiddled with the controls in his chair again in order to activate the audio from the next room. “This is a one-way power window,” he said. “On their side of the glass nothing visibly changes. They cannot see, nor hear us.”

The Togruta frowned. “Oh, he knows we’re here,” she murmured, walking over to Velus. The man was keenly aware of subtle visual cues, and she liked that. She doubted if anyone other than the two of them had noticed Maul’s quick look their way. The woman with the datapad certainly hadn’t. Beside her, Sinjir Velus sighed exasperatedly.

Ahsoka said nothing more after that, for just then, the observation room they were in was flooded with the sounds of the conversation next door.

“–can see, you’re going to need to be more specific if you want me to be able to do anything at all for your case, Mister Maul.”

Ahsoka scoffed softly. The fact that the Zabrak was being addressed in any formal way whatsoever was ridiculous to her. He was not civilized, sheesh. Not to mention, it was a rather comical alliteration.

“Is she his counsel?” Velus asked, eying the woman skeptically. “Kinda young, isn’t she? You threw a rookie in there with him on purpose?”

“Semler Capel is a Warrant Officer,” the admiral replied, “She is no rookie, Advisor. In fact, she’s been briefed on Agent Tano’s encounter with Darth Maul. She’s aware of his affiliation with the Sith and is now trying to get him to entrap himself through a confession.”

“She’s an ambitious one, then,” Sondiv mused with a small smile.

“Ambition and efficacy are two different things,” Velus muttered under his breath, so quietly that only Ahsoka’s montrals registered it.

“I fail to see how much more detailed I can be,” the Dathomirian was saying, his tone plaintive. His voice was warbly and weak, not at all like his usual smooth, soothing tenor. Ahsoka rolled her eyes. She knew what he was doing: he was making himself come across as a pitiful old man, much as he had done with Ezra Bridger when they’d run into him on Malachor. Ahsoka was aware of the ruse he had played on the boy. It disgusted her to see him at it again. “My situation is rather simple, my dear. I am a victim! Nearly murdered, then abducted and robbed of my possessions, and now incarcerated! All without being told why, or what I am accused of! Am I even legally arrested? The Rights of Sentience guarantee I should be formally charged within a standard day of my capture or released. Unless, of course, your government doesn’t abide by these ancient regulations anymore? It is a travesty to realize this New Republic of yours continues acting under the tenants of the Imperial High Culture!”

At his words, Mon Mothma’s face flushed, and her eyes lit up in anger. “How dare he –!” she began, half-rising from her seat. Sondiv Sella reached over and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her. Velus glanced over at the pair, his features surprisingly aloof. “Oh, he’s good,” he commented. Then: “Keep your seat, Mon. He’s trying to get a rise out of us. Don’t allow it.”

“He can’t possibly know we’re in here, watching!” Adar Tallon objected with a frown.

“He’s in tune with the Force,” Ahsoka replied, her attention rapt on the goings-on of the adjacent room. “I'm sure he knows.”

“Even if he wasn’t aware of our presence,” Velus agreed, “he likely knows this is being recorded. And Officer Capel is in there anyway. She embodies the New Republic for now, and all those within its government. If he can rattle you, Chancellor, he can rattle her.” After a moment of watching the continuing exchange between the two individuals, Velus raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and he’s getting to her, alright. You see how the back of her neck is flushed at the hairline? Her hands are shaking. She’s trying to appear cool, but she’s exasperated. How long have they been at this?”

“Almost an hour,” Tallon muttered, running a hand through his peppered hair.

“She’s going to break soon,” Sinjir observed. “I don’t care how good she was at the academy, that she was able to obtain that rank so soon. What she needs is experience, which she clearly doesn’t have enough of. She’s going to snap, and then she is going to slip up, and he goes free. Let me in there with him.”

“Sinjir, no.”

“Come on, Mon – you know I can do a better job! That was my job!”

“But not anymore,” the chancellor said firmly. “You no longer hold a military rank, and you are also not a civilian legal consultant operating in the private sector. You are a civil servant, a government representative, but this is not a diplomatic situation where I can freely send you in.”

“–claiming your belongings were stolen,” W.O. Capel was saying. “Can you list them?”

“If you check the ship I was brought in, I am sure you will find them,” Maul replied. “An entire rucksack with my clothes and basic utensils.”

“If they were confiscated during your capture, rest assured that they will be returned to you in time,” the military woman said with a sigh. “That does not constitute theft, Mister Maul.”

After a long pause, in which the silence became almost oppressive, Ahsoka saw the Zabrak’s fingers twitch. “There is… something else. Something… incredibly valuable of mine. Something I know will not be returned to me.”

The Togruta frowned. Was he referring to…?

“What is it?” Officer Capel asked, making a note in her datapad but looking at the Nightbrother with utmost skepticism.

“I am not sure I should disclose…” Maul began, his voice suddenly flustered. “This is a very private matter, my dear. It is difficult for me to speak of, and not something you might understand…”

Semler Capel sighed again, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. “Sir, I cannot reiterate how little I will be able to do unless you cooperate with more details.”

This time it was Maul who sighed resignedly. “Very well,” he said. “There are… two of them.”

“Yes?”

“They are crimson, and they pulse with my Living Force. Their power… sustains me. It is no exaggeration to say that I need them to live.”

Velus looked over at Ahsoka with a raised eyebrow. “The kyber crystals?”

The former Jedi pursed her lips. “Seems like it.”

“If he claims them, or tries to, legally, he’d have to admit to being a Sith,” Velus said. “If he does that, we can use that information to tie him to Palpatine, and formal charges can be applied. He knows this, right?”

“I would assume so,” Ahsoka replied. “Which is why I think he hadn’t used that argument yet. Although perhaps he is counting on the fact that no one really knows that Palpatine was a Sith as well. Are you supposed to put the dead emperor on trial now? How long will that take?”

“If we can put him in the same league as Vader, that might be enough,” Mon Mothma said. “If we get a confession out of him now, about those crystals, it won’t matter how long the trial takes. He will remain in custody.”

“And where are these items?” Officer Capel was asking in the other room.

“Lady Tano has them,” came the Zabrak’s answer, his voice almost pitifully morose. “She stole them from me!”

“Sod off, old man,” Ahsoka growled to herself in the viewing room. “That’s an outright lie, and he knows it!”

“Perhaps these things were also removed from you during your capture,” the blonde woman said with a tilt of her head. “That is standard protocol when dealing with a criminal. Whether or not they get returned is up to you, and how well you cooperate with authorities.”

“No,” the Zabrak groaned, hands balling into fists on the armrests. “She means to destroy them! Please, you must help me get them back! She is a murderous thief, she is. She will destroy them completely and kill me in the process!”

This was news to the Togruta. She hadn’t expected Maul’s life to be so densely intertwined with the state of the bled kyber. Even during their fight, when he had been heavily influenced by their power, wild with their rage, she hadn’t perceived him being dependent on them for survival. Not since he underwent emergency surgery on Rodia.

Semler Capel’s brows knit together in concern. Ahsoka couldn’t blame the woman; Maul really was putting on a convincing show: his voice trembling and despair in his eyes. She was almost moved herself. Almost.

“I cannot return anything to you if I don’t even know what it is I’m looking for,” the military woman said with a pout. “I can try working with the agent who brought you in, if in truth, those items are imperative to your wellbeing. However, you need to tell me: aside from your personal belongings, what was confiscated?”

“Not confiscated. Stolen. She stole them from me!”

“What did she steal, then?”

Another pause from Maul, and the ex-Jedi could feel that the tension in both rooms was so thick, she could have sliced through it with her sabers. She didn’t think Maul was so stupid as to readily admit the truth about the kyber, but she awaited his answer with bated breath anyway. Surely, he wasn’t so desperate…?

The Zabrak looked Officer Capel squarely in the eyes, suddenly grinning, revealing sharp canines.

“My hearts,” he said solemnly, allowing his words to sink in before throwing his head back and laughing.

Semler Capel looked on at the Nightbrother with utter disdain, her ivory skin blushing to a bright red almost as crimson as the Sith crystals. The datapad fell from her fingers to clatter onto the table. The Dathomirian had been stringing her along for that entire time, and she knew it now. Ahsoka felt sorry for the young soldier. She could feel her lekku flushing, embarrassed at the utter nonsense Maul had just spewed.

“I’m glad one of us is amused by this!” Officer Capel seethed through clenched teeth. Her reaction only caused the Zabrak to chuckle some more. “I don’t think you realize how dire your situation is! You will quite possibly be locked away for the rest of your life! We’ll see if you’re so eager to laugh at the judicial system then!” When he didn’t stop laughing, the woman stomped her foot. Ahsoka was quite sure the officer was close to bursting into tears. “This isn’t a game!”

Maul’s demeanor instantly changed. His laughter cut off abruptly, and his features became serious, bordering on stern.

“On the contrary, dear child. There is absolutely a game being played here. You are just too unimportant to matter in it, and too stupid to recognize it.” At Semler Capel’s astonished silence, the Zabrak continued: “I made it perfectly clear that I will not discuss matters with anyone other than Ahsoka Tano. Yet you and your superiors have insisted on this meaningless procedure. I am not the one wasting your time. You have been wasting mine.”

Capel’s mouth hung agape while Maul spoke. Once he finished, she raised herself up indignantly. “You were the one who demanded legal counsel!” Ahsoka was sure it was taking all the woman’s willpower not to add an expletive at the end of her phrase.

“Only to cause a delay until Lady Tano finished whatever civic duties she most certainly got herself tied up in,” came his patient reply. He sounded almost like a teacher offering a lecture. “That, child, is called ‘stalling for time.’ You would do well to remember such tactics in the future.”

With an exasperated hiss, Sinjir Velus strode to the door connecting into the interrogation room. He turned to Adar Tallon pointedly. “Open the door, Admiral,” he said sharply. The cold authority in his tone surprised those present, even the chancellor, who Ahsoka saw frown in deep disapproval at her advisor.

“Sinjir!” Mon Mothma called out warningly.

“The door, Admiral,” the man repeated, ignoring his boss. “This farce ends now!”

Mon Mothma made as though to stand, indignation writ all over her face, but Sondiv Sella reached out a hand and placed it over her forearm, looking at her meaningfully. Ahsoka took advantage of the moment to walk after Sinjir and place her own hand on his shoulder, pulling him back gently. She was looking at the other three, however.

“I think you should allow Advisor Velus to interfere,” Ahsoka stated quietly, keeping her own tone calm. “As a former loyalty officer, he likely has more experience with difficult or evasive individuals. Let me accompany him as well.”

“And give him what he wants?” Velus snorted. He shook his head decisively. “No, Tano. At least, not yet. Let me pick at his brain for a bit.”

“Be careful he doesn’t pick at yours,” the Togruta replied evenly. “Sith can do more than a simple Force-choke.”

Adar Tallon looked over at Mon Mothma, and the woman finally assented with a curt nod and a resigned sigh. “Mind who you are now, Sinjir,” she said gravely while the admiral stood and walked over to the door controls. “The New Republic does not follow Imperial protocol.”

“I’ll get the old bastard to talk,” Velus replied. Ahsoka stepped back to her place at the viewing window as the door slid open. In the other room, Semler Capel straightened up and turned to look at the intruder, surprised.

“Thank you, Officer Capel,” Sinjir Velus said briskly as he walked in with sure strides, hands clasped behind his back. “That will be all for now.” He stood before the table and stared down impassively at the Dathomirian, never once sparing a glance at the blonde.

The woman looked from the open door to the man before her uncertainly, clearly noticing his lack of military uniform. She hesitated. Maul seemed intrigued, his golden eyes sweeping over the newcomer carefully. “You are dismissed, Warrant Officer,” Velus stated flatly, that cold demeanor transforming the man again. He was acting nothing like the cynical rascal Ahsoka had shared a meal with just a few hours prior. Once again, she was impressed by how quickly he was able to slip into what she assumed was his old persona. Perhaps his conditioning under the Empire had been far too ingrained in the man’s psyche. He would never truly cease to be an Imperial officer. When the woman made no move to obey, Velus turned his dark eyes to her at last in a steely gaze. “This matter is now beyond the Defense Fleet’s jurisdiction. Your presence here is no longer required. Do not make me repeat myself.”

The Togruta hadn’t thought it was possible for the woman to turn a deeper shade of red than she already had when dealing with Maul. Yet, there it was. Semler Capel was blushing profusely, both in embarrassment and anger. Still, like a good soldier, she pressed her lips tightly together into a thin white line, bowed curtly, and made a beeline for the still open door.

When she walked into the viewing room, she paused as the door slid behind her, shock and dismay compounding her embarrassment when she noticed all the other people in the room. As the realization hit her that she had been watched this entire time, and by whom – Ahsoka noticed the woman’s eyes widen upon recognizing both the admiral and chancellor – tears sprang up to those gray orbs and threatened to spill over as a shudder shook her frame. She said nothing, simply bowed curtly at her superior again and practically ran out the door.

Rather than take his seat again, Adar Tallon followed after the young soldier, catching up to her as she exited into the hall. Before the door closed behind him, Mon Mothma had risen from her chair and followed after as well, compassion evident in her features. This left only Sondiv and Ahsoka to witness what occurred in the interrogation chamber, which was likely for the best, the former Padawan mused. She was sure the chancellor would not approve of how Sinjir Velus was conducting the interview.

“Aw, bring her back!” the Zabrak bemoaned after the woman had left, his tone mocking. Velus ignored him completely, instead reaching beneath the table and activating some type of control. A keypad slid out the side of the tabletop, and the man took a few seconds to study it, glancing up only once in the direction of the Nightbrother, but not looking directly at him. Rather, he seemed to be scrutinizing the restraining chair he was in. Velus idly tapped a certain button, then looked up in the direction of the window, at something that was mounted slightly above Ahsoka’s view. She assumed there had to be a mounted holo-recorder on the wall somewhere over the window.

“I think he’s turning off the recording system,” she heard Sondiv mutter. “Sinjir, what are you up to…?”

Moments later, they all found out, including Maul. Velus very purposefully pressed down on another button, and a hum was heard as a strong electrical surge went through the energy binders keeping the Zabrak secured to the chair. The Dathomirian’s body tensed and spasmed as he was electrocuted, but he gnashed his teeth and did not once cry out. Ahsoka frowned. She couldn’t say she agreed with the tactics Velus employed. She hadn’t felt right about it when the Rodians had tortured Maul that way, and she didn’t like it now. To Velus’s credit, he only kept his finger pressed down on the button for about two seconds, then released it and allowed the Zabrak to slump down in his seat. Maul glared at the man and growled, his snarling mouth twisting up into a wicked grin.

“Ah, I see,” he sneered. “I am being met with the Empire’s Wrath.”

In the chair behind the Togruta, Sondiv Sella recoiled with a wince. “How did he know‽” he whispered in awe. He sounded nervous. Not tearing her eyes away from the window for a second, Ahsoka asked, “What do you mean?”

“What he just said… ‘The Empire’s Wrath’ is what Sinjir was known as within Imperial ranks. It’s a play on his name.”

“Sinjir Rath Velus…” Ahsoka mused quietly, nodding thoughtfully. “I understand.” She felt sick to her stomach. To think the Zabrak had gotten a read on his interrogator so quickly, within seconds of seeing him. She hadn’t been aware he was that good at scrying.

In response to the quip, Velus had merely shocked the Dathomirian again, his expression a blank slate, nearly as featureless as Ahsoka’s Fulcrum mask. He let the electrical surge last for a few seconds longer this time. When that was done, he looked directly into the Zabrak’s face. “I see introductions are unnecessary,” he stated flatly.

“Your pitiful attempts at getting me to break are futile,” Maul growled. “You will get no information from me, boy.”

“Oh, I don’t care whether you incriminate yourself or not,” Velus replied evenly. “We have plenty of evidence on you with which to convict you. I just want you to understand exactly who you are dealing with here.”

Maul smirked. “I understand plenty, Advisor,” he spat. “I understand you hold no real authority in this new government. All of your abilities, gone to waste. Such a shame. Do you miss the power you wielded as a loyalty officer? The fear you invoked when the mere rumor of your arrival was heard? Have you come to torture a poor, shackled, old man in the hopes of reliving past glory?”

“No, it seems you’ve read me all wrong,” Velus said, tilting his head thoughtfully to one side. “Is that the extent of your Sith magic? Skimming surface information and stringing the pieces together into the illusion of knowledge, like a second-rate marketplace seer? I’m not impressed.”

“The disappointment is mutual,” the Dathomirian replied.

“It doesn’t matter to me who you inconvenienced with your underworld dealings,” Velus continued, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t care about the Empire, barely did back then. Inspiring fear in others? Never got off on that; it was merely my job. Quite honestly, I’m not too interested in the prosperity of the New Republic, either. At least as far as the politics of it go. No, you see: I’m a very selfish bastard. I get the impression we’re alike in that sense.”

The Zabrak scoffed. “You are nothing like me, boy.”

“Except in the worst ways, maybe,” Velus shrugged. He continued, “I only care about the people I surround myself with these days: my friends. That’s probably where we differ. I doubt you have any.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult? Because that stings less than your mother’s whippings likely did you.”

Even from where she stood, Ahsoka could see the muscles along Sinjir’s jaw clench, and his nostrils flared a bit as he struggled to retain his composure. The Nightbrother had struck a nerve, it seemed. She was relieved to see, however, that the man didn’t resort to electrocuting the Zabrak again.

“I used to be a monster for the Empire,” Velus said at last, his tone solemn. “It was for this reason that I was hired to work directly under the chancellor: for the implied threat. I haven’t had to resort to the methods I was taught at the Viper’s Nest for quite some time, but those things are ingrained in me. I have no qualms hurting you. And I will do so, repeatedly, if I don’t get the information I want out of you.”

Maul barked a laugh, short and harsh. “Physical pain means nothing to me. It is an integral part of all Sith training. There is nothing you can do to hurt me.”

“We shall see,” Velus replied, running fingers idly over the keypad. “So far, I think we’re making excellent progress.”

“How so?”

“I just got you to admit you are Sith.”

Ahsoka heard Sondiv Sella chuckle dryly behind her as the Zabrak’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Sinjir does have a way with folks,” the older man murmured. “It’s a frustrating ability of his. It’s as though by instinct, he knows exactly what words to say or how to treat individuals to get them to talk or do what he wants. Whether it’s coercion or persuasion. I’ve never seen him in action firsthand before, though he always gets the results Mon needs.”

The Togruta merely nodded in understanding, her attention rapt on the goings-on in the adjacent room.

“I refuse to continue this conversation.”

“Oh, intimidated already?” Velus grinned at the Dathomirian, leaning forward on the table. When Maul didn’t reply, the man shrugged casually. “Ahsoka mentioned you were stubborn. She also told me about the kyber she found in the desert. That’s what concerns me, mainly. She thinks they’re a threat to the galaxy at large, and I trust her judgement. She’s worried enough about them that she thinks the only way to nullify their threat is to destroy them. However, she also said a Sith needs to be the one to do it.”

Maul refused to look at Velus and kept his lips pressed into a tight line, but Ahsoka noticed the subtle tic in his jaw. Knowing what she did about Sinjir so far, she was sure he had noticed it, too. The advisor continued as though he hadn’t seen anything, however: “I told her you’d never cooperate. The only thing to be done is destroy the things. It’ll probably cost us a few million credits to do so, but the government’s wasted money on other useless things before. I don’t see why we can’t invest in destroying something that is a legitimate danger.”

The Zabrak scoffed softly, turning his gaze away from Velus. He wanted to speak up, maybe offer a disdainful rebuttal to the man’s comment. This much, Ahsoka could see, but Maul held his tongue. Sondiv was right. Sinjir was good at soliciting a response. Just then, the door to the observation room slid open again, and Mon Mothma and Adar Tallon retook their seats by Sondiv.

“How is he doing in there?” Admiral Tallon asked with feigned casualness. Ahsoka could still hear the tension in his voice.

“Well, he’s managed to do in less than ten minutes what your Warrant Officer wasn’t able to do in an hour,” Sondiv offered. He turned to the chancellor. “I know he can be a bit brash, Mon, but Sinjir knows what he’s doing. We need to trust him more on issues like these. You’re the one who told me you hired him because you needed a maverick by your side.”

“I do trust Sinjir,” Mon Mothma replied. “The issue is that he doesn’t always trust me. I appreciate and welcome a good dose of skepticism, but I don’t need him undermining my authority.”

In the other room, Velus had gotten Maul to start talking again. Ahsoka admired how the man managed to play the renegade Sith like a chin-harp. It was as though the Zabrak couldn’t help himself.

“Let’s say I take you up on your word – which I don’t,” Sinjir was saying, “but we’ll pretend for now. If the kyber can’t be destroyed by any technological means we have so far, the other option is to neutralize them somehow. Ahsoka thinks they can be purged of their Dark Side affinity.”

“She is mistaken,” Maul snapped. “As she is about many things.”

“She’s done so before, with other crystals.”

“Ah, yes,” the Zabrak said with a roll of his eyes. “I noticed the resonance of her sabers when I encountered her on Malachor. Hers are lesser kyber, inferior. Mine will not be swayed to the light.”

From her spot by the window, the Togruta scowled. She didn’t appreciate how dismissively Maul spoke of her crystals. They had been strong enough to finish destroying his stupid saberstaff, anyway. She also noticed how Velus was referring to her by her first name whenever he mentioned her, and his tone of voice was conversational and friendly when he spoke about her. She got the distinct impression that he was trying to have Maul believe that the two of them had a closer relationship than they actually did. She wasn’t sure if the Dathomirian would buy the act, as he had proven just how easily he could glean information from Velus’s psyche.

However, it seemed to be working, in the sense that it kept Maul talking. She was surprised that he would be willing to divulge such information to a person who was not Force-sensitive, or even understood the full scope of the Force. Yet he seemed almost eager. Once again, she was appreciative, and more than a bit impressed with Sinjir Velus’s cross-examination skills. Everything from his posture to his tone of voice had been meticulously planned and chosen to get a reaction from his subject, yet he was constantly improvising as he went along. It all happened so seamlessly, that the Togruta wondered if perhaps the man had a slightly higher count of midichlorians than was normal.

“You keep mentioning that the crystals are yours,” Velus said with a slight frown, “but Ahsoka told me she found them buried in the sand.”

“They were kept there for safekeeping.”

“Against what?”

No answer this time, and Velus raised an eyebrow in the Zabrak’s direction. Shrugging, he continued instead: “You told Ahsoka that she woke up these crystals when she took them from this guy’s, Obi-Wan’s, home. Is he the one who was safeguarding them for you? If you don’t want them destroyed, and you’re not willing to help Ahsoka purge them, the least you can do is tell us how to make them go dormant again. Or was it this Obi-Wan that got them to be inactive in the first place?”

“Kenobi knew nothing of the crystals when we dueled on Tatooine,” Maul sneered. “He came to suspect their true nature over the years, but never truly understood. Had I not suspended my bond to them back then, the idiot would have been consumed by them, driven insane or burning out his Living Force within a month. Of course, he didn’t have anything to do with their dormancy. He didn’t have the necessary knowledge of the Dark Side in order to control them.”

“So that was all you?”

“I have my talents.”

“Why did you do it?”

Maul blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion at the question. Ahsoka wanted to know the answer, too, now that Velus had gotten the Nightbrother to open up so much about the kyber. She was absolutely intrigued by this new information, as all she had known of Maul’s interaction with Obi-Wan had been the very few second-hand tidbits she had gotten from Sabine, and recently Maul himself. Even the Jedi Master’s phantasm hadn’t elaborated on their duel that fateful desert night, so long ago.

“You hated this man badly, right? Why not let him be consumed? Why did you – what? – cut these crystals off? Was it for his sake? In order to spare him?”

At this, the Zabrak threw back his head and laughed. Really, truly cackled at the notion. Ahsoka was reminded briefly of how unhinged he’d appeared when she’d fought him that second time on Tatooine. Insane, she thought. He was utterly insane.

“Do I strike you as the benevolent type, Rath Velus?” Maul asked acidly. Sinjir’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of his name, seeing as how he hadn’t provided it, but he masked his surprise quickly by transforming the surprised arc of his brow into a skeptical expression. “No, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger to save Kenobi, and would have liked nothing better than to stomp his feeble corpse into the desert dust. You mentioned that you and I are alike, correct? So, you tell me why I interrupted my bond with the kyber.”

Velus looked at the Zabrak before him for a few seconds before he responded: “Ahsoka believes you can’t control them fully. She’s right, isn’t she? That’s why you stopped. They are as much a threat to you as to anyone else, and it gets worse when you use them in combat. You cast them aside because you’re too selfish to let them take you over.”

Maul shook his head slowly. “They are… difficult at times. I will not deny this. But it seems you and Lady Tano are not the confidants you want me to believe. If you two were close, she would have at least mentioned in passing the reason I traveled to Tatooine in the first place.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

The Dathomirian grinned. “Do you believe in prophecies, Sinjir Rath Velus?” Before the advisor could answer, Maul shrugged. “It does not matter if you do, really. They exist. Inferior beings with no awareness of the Force carry out their meager lives in blissful ignorance, but the Force whispers in the minds of all sensitives. Some of us have learned how to listen better than others, how to see.”

“And I’m to assume you saw something through the Force?”

“Sometimes we need a bit of outside help to see and understand these premonitions clearly, as was the case when I deciphered what I saw in the joint holocrons.”

“Holocrons?”

Maul rolled his eyes at the man before him. “Never mind, boy. Suffice it to say that, yes, I had a vision. A prophecy was revealed to me. Over the years, I have learned a thing or two about such foresights.”

“Such as?”

“They cannot be changed,” Maul replied, his tone serious. Ahsoka frowned. She was no stranger to visions herself: she’d begun experiencing them around the age of fifteen, when she was still apprenticed to Anakin Skywalker. Grand Master Yoda had told her that oftentimes, the Force could offer insight into events yet to come, but that nothing was set in stone. That the future could be changed, if appropriate steps were taken. She found it fascinating, and a little sad that even in this, apparently, the Sith believed the opposite of the Jedi. The finality of Maul’s assertion left no doubt in her mind that the Zabrak genuinely believed his own words. “In my experience,” the Zabrak was saying, “a prophecy will always come to pass, more so than a simple prediction. Struggling against destiny is futile, you see. And… this prophecy…” Maul allowed his voice to trail away, his expression almost wistful.

“What about it?” Sinjir demanded impatiently.

“It spoke of the end of the Sith,” the Dathomirian replied simply, “and it held Kenobi at its center. The prophecy stated that there was a key to destroying the Sith, and it resided on a planet with twin suns. Simultaneously, it revealed to me that Obi-Wan Kenobi was alive. He was the key, you see. Key to eliminating my old master and his…” At this, Maul turned and looked directly at the window, which, according to Adar Tallon, he shouldn’t have been able to see. Ahsoka felt as though he were looking right at her, and her blood ran cold. The Zabrak grinned in her direction, and she set her mouth in a thin line, hugging her arms about herself. Don’t you dare say it, she thought. Maul knew about Anakin. She didn’t need him revealing that secret now. “His chosen apprentice,” the Nightbrother finished darkly. The Togruta shuddered. She hoped no one picked up on his word’s double-entendre.

Turning his attention back to Velus, the Zabrak went on: “I came to understand, in that moment where I faced off against my old foe in the desert, that the vision I had seen in the holocrons had not yet come to pass. Kenobi acted as though he had a purpose for holing himself away in the sand dunes. And although I craved for his death, to finally have my revenge…” He paused again, closing his eyes. Ahsoka got the impression Maul was reliving that moment again; he seemed frustrated at the memory. She wondered how long it had been since he had spoken at length about this subject – or anything, really. She got the impression that he had been alone for an awfully long time. “Prophecies cannot be changed,” he concluded with a tired sigh, his shoulders slumping back into the restraining chair. “To stand against destiny is folly, suicide. Literal, in my case. Kenobi had to fulfill his purpose. He would bring about the downfall of the Sith. If I were to survive, I had to relinquish my bonds to the Dark Order that raised me, trained me. I had to break free of what I had known all my life. Do you understand now? I was acting selfishly, but not in the manner you believe.”

“The Sith that was Darth Maul is dead,” Ahsoka murmured, beginning to understand the old Jedi Master’s words. She hugged herself more tightly.

“What did you say?” Sondiv asked, but she shook her head and looked pensively out the window, her feelings unsettled. Maul’s conversation with Sinjir was clarifying a few things for her but caused a myriad of new questions to jump in their stead. She wished she could go in that interrogation room as well and have an honest, open conversation with the renegade Sith. Except maybe she shouldn’t be referring to him as such in her mind anymore. And she doubted Maul would ever be so forthcoming with her directly as he was with Velus. Even though she was sure he knew she was in the next room, watching and listening, she felt that the Zabrak would have likely shut down if she had been part of the interrogation team. There was simply too much awful history between them.

Velus was nodding. “You severed your connection to the kyber –”

“Because they are Sith adherents,” Maul concluded. “Until the prophecy came to pass, I had to relinquish them. And being of the Sith as they are, once they sensed that disruption, they became dormant. It was sudden: I felt their shock and sense of betrayal go right through my bones. Kaiburr can sense, but they do not see, as they have no eyes. Perhaps they believed Kenobi killed me.” He shrugged. “By that point, the old man had destroyed my weapon anyway, so I simply left. He called after me once but did not follow. I think, on some intrinsic level, we both understood something important had occurred, and knew it was best to leave things be. I never did see Kenobi alive again.”

Everyone was silent for a moment. Ahsoka was stunned by everything she’d just heard; was sure the others felt the same. Even Maul appeared surprised that he’d divulged so much, and in such a personal manner. Well, kudos to Velus for that, she figured.

Speaking of Sinjir, before the moment could pass and the Zabrak return to his stubborn, surly mood, the advisor pressed on with his questioning.

“Ahsoka is not Sith.”

The statement caught Maul off-guard, and he furrowed his brow inquiringly.

“Ahsoka Tano is not a Sith,” Velus repeated. “I’m assuming the crystals only respond to the Sith, correct? Otherwise, Obi-Wan would have been consumed by them, as you put it. They would not have become dormant. So how did Ahsoka wake up the crystals?”

The Zabrak frowned and took a few seconds to answer. “She activated them with her aura. Because she tried to take them when they should not have been disturbed. I am not exactly sure what she did to them, but her own kyber were involved somehow. Kyber tend to resonate to their own kind, and her crystals used to be Sith. They know what it is like to bleed.”

Ahsoka’s brow shot up in surprise at that statement. She had told only a few people about the nature of the crystals in her lightsabers. Maul was certainly not one of them. Once again, she was amazed at the Zabrak’s level of intuition. She was also curious about what he’d said about her kyber being part of the reason the Sith gems awoke. She remembered their sad hum back in Obi-Wan’s home, how they had lamented the state of the bled crystals buried in the sand. She hadn’t realized it then, but now that Maul mentioned it, it dawned on her that her crystals resonated with those kyber because they sympathized with them. They had a shared pain.

“And as soon as they were active again, you arrived to take them.”

“Of course. They are mine.”

“You cast them aside.”

“Out of necessity. The prophecy of the holocrons, however, has been fulfilled at last.”

“I know Tatooine’s way out in the middle of nowhere, but I’ve got news for you: that prophecy was fulfilled a long time ago. If you wanted to claim them, why not do so sooner?” Velus asked. “The Emperor and Vader have been dead for almost eight standard years!”

“Eight years?” the Zabrak murmured, more to himself than anything. “Has it really been that long?” He chuckled softly, but there was something incredibly sad about the sound. “Peace is a lie,” he concluded. Velus waited, but his prisoner provided no further comment. It appeared Maul was finally out of things to say.

“Going by everything you’ve told me so far,” Velus said, “when you took those crystals back into your possession, you accepted your place as a Sith once more. You have, haven’t you?”

Maul said nothing, only smiled.

“All of this could end simply enough if you just relinquish those tenets again. I understand you needed to use the kyber crystals to keep yourself alive after Ahsoka shot you, but that’s no longer the case.”

“Do you expect me to ask for clemency from the New Republic?” Maul sneered. “Or perhaps you are trying to get me to bargain for my freedom? In either case, the answer is no. I will not surrender my hold on those kaiburr. Doing so will change nothing about their state at this point, save perhaps have them call out through the Dark Side more strongly than before. They fell dormant back then because when I suspended my connection to them, there were no other Sith around to claim them, no other adherents of the Dark Side at all in any nearby star system. I told you: the kaiburr cannot see, but they can sense. And they sense a darkness growing in the Force. Your New Republic government will not last. It began to fall apart before it ever got established. You see it too, do you not? That is the reason you drink more than you should, even though it strains your marriage, worries your husband. You can see the end approaching, but no one will listen to you. Poor, pitiful Advisor Velus. So perceptive, but no power to wield with which to act upon what you see –”

“This isn’t about me,” Sinjir interrupted testily. There was a fire burning in his dark eyes, Ahsoka noticed. She was afraid the man would resort to zapping the Nightbrother again.

“It partially is, however, is it not?” Maul replied evenly. Stumped, it was Velus’s turn to fall silent. “You said so yourself, when we began our little chat: you and I are alike in our selfishness. You are no hero, Rath Velus, you never have been, despite the qualities you have which allows you so much potential. It is that inherent self-centered nature of yours that keeps you from truly being someone people look up to. You claim not to care about the New Republic’s downfall, but it worries you, because you care about the people involved. Some of them, anyway. And because you care about them, you wish to keep them safe, but only them. The galaxy be damned.”

“It’s not as though you’re discovering some grand secret of mine,” Velus said, regaining his composure. Ahsoka noticed he subconsciously crossed his arms over his chest defensively, though. “I’m a drunk, egotistical asshole and I only care about things that impact me. Unfortunately, as of late, that list of things and people has grown exponentially. It’s a pain in the ass, for sure, but there it is. If anything threatens those I care about, I will stop at nothing until I destroy it. Right now, that’s looking a lot like a red-and-black striped cretin and his pet rocks.”

This elicited a chortle from the Zabrack, but Maul’s eyes remained cold. “What do you think you can possibly do, boy, against the all-encompassing dark that approaches? What you call torture, I deem child’s play. You know nothing of torment, despair, agony. Would you like me to show you?”

Velus stood a bit straighter; Ahsoka could see his spine stiffen as he narrowed his eyes at the Dathomirian. “Are you threatening me? That would be a mistake.”

Maul chuckled again, a bit more heartily this time, and he shook his head. “No, no, dear boy. I do not need to resort to such measures. I merely mean to teach you a thing or two, so you can understand. I am offering… a demonstration. Interested?”

When Velus didn’t answer, the Zabrak continued. “Aboard the ship I was brought in, you will find a surprise I stowed away. It was meant for my own collection, originally. A memento from Tatooine, if you will. I admit, I was not expecting Lady Tano to resort to such… underhanded tactics in order to defeat me. Perhaps I should have, who knows. She did warn me, after all.”

Velus turned and looked straight at the window, an eyebrow lifted in query.

“What is he talking about?” Sondiv Sella asked apprehensively.

“No clue,” Ahsoka muttered, shaking her head. “I ran full diagnostics on my ship; they found nothing! Even Cham had his people do a thorough search of the shuttle, and they came up empty-handed.”

“He’s lying, then,” Mon Mothma stated.

Ahsoka frowned and stared long and hard at the Zabrak, who was grinning at the advisor before him. That unsettled feeling of dread came rushing back to her suddenly. Something was not right. “What did you do, old man?” she hissed under her breath.

“The T-6 you were brought in has been checked from top to bottom,” Velus was saying. “Nothing has been recovered. I will not be distracted by baseless claims.”

“Oh, your people are just not looking hard enough,” Maul said pleasantly. He could sense the shift in the atmosphere of the conversation, and he seemed to truly revel in it. “Although, you probably should not send people in there. Not unless you want to risk their lives. Droids are more expendable and often more effective than beings; you should send some to search the ship.”

“Enough of this!” Velus growled. “I know you’re lying.”

“I guarantee that I am not.”

“Then what is it you brought from Tatooine?” Velus demanded. “Where is it?”

“If I told you those things, it would not be a surprise now, would it?”

Ahsoka felt her stomach clenching in anger. She reminded herself of what Velus had told Mon Mothma when they first sat down to watch the Zabrak’s interactions with Semler Capel. She repeated them to herself now, in her mind: He is trying to get a rise out of you. Don’t allow it. However, it didn’t do much to help. Her heart was racing, her palms suddenly sweaty. She wiped them down on her pants, then clenched them into fists. She was so upset and apprehensive, she was beginning to feel nauseous. She had felt uneasy knowing that Maul had been aboard and in control of her shuttle for nearly two days. Something had been amiss about the entire thing, but she hadn’t been able to pinpoint what it was. Nothing had appeared out of place, and yet the atmosphere had seemed off-kilter. At her core, she knew something was wrong.

Behind the Togruta, her three companions were talking urgently among themselves.

“He’s lying!” Sondiv was saying. “He has to be!”

“Are you sure everything was checked over?” Adar Tallon insisted. “We cannot take any risks. If he’s telling the truth, then that T-6 may just be a ticking time bomb. We’re fortunate that it’s docked outside of the city limits, but any type of biohazard weapon could still cause quite a bit of devastation.”

“Do you really believe he could have brought a bioweapon aboard‽” exclaimed the chancellor. Skrog. Ahsoka hadn’t thought of that. She turned her attention away from the interrogation to face the other three.

“If Maul brought in some type of device that would release a virus or plague into the populace, my ship’s diagnostics would have picked up on the internal electronic components of it. The Syndulla clan literally ripped pieces of my hull off in order to fix the damage suffered in my skirmish with the Rodians. They searched inside my shuttle as well. No one found anything.”

“He might be trying to get the Defense Fleet to find out where you locked away those crystals,” Sondiv suggested.

“They’re inside a metal case in my quarters, underneath my bed,” the former Padawan informed them.

“If we send personnel to search your vessel, and anyone finds that, they may believe the Zabrak placed it there, with whatever it is he claims he brought onboard,” Mon Mothma said. “Then they would bring it into the facility to investigate further, thus bringing those crystals closer within his grasp.” She looked up at Ahsoka anxiously. “Can he summon them to him, if they are in close enough proximity?”

The Togruta nodded. “I wouldn’t know from what range, however. In my case, my lightsabers must at least be within my field of vision in order for me to pull them towards me with the Force.”

Just then, Velus activated the energy binders on the restraining chair again, causing the Dathomirian to writhe in the seat. Upon witnessing this, Mon Mothma’s eyes grew wide, and she was on her feet in an instant, hand to her breast. “Sinjir!” she exclaimed. Ahsoka had forgotten that the chancellor and admiral hadn’t been present when Velus first commenced his cross-examination of Maul.

“What did you stow away on Ahsoka’s ship‽” the advisor was demanding furiously. “Answer me, bastard!”

“That… tickled,” Maul said instead through gasping laughter.

Mon Mothma appeared livid. Her face was flushed, and her blue-green eyes sparkled indignantly. Ahsoka knew the woman was about to interfere with Velus’s questioning, and although she didn’t like the methods Sinjir was using, she knew another change of interrogator would likely cause the Zabrak to shut down again, perhaps permanently this time. She walked over and stood before the Chandrilan to keep her from marching towards the door.

“Madam, I understand you’re upset. I don’t agree with this anymore than you do, but I do not believe Advisor Velus is acting gratuitously. This is likely the last thing he would want to do.” She then turned toward Tallon, who had risen as well, along with Sondiv Sella. The two men seemed unsure of how to react. “Admiral, would you please open the door for me? Chancellor, you must allow me to assist Advisor Velus now. Maul will not be swayed by physical torment. Perhaps he will speak plainly if I ask.”

“Do you really believe he will talk to you, Ahsoka?” Sondiv asked her.

The Togruta shrugged. “He’s been asking for me, hasn’t he?” She offered a half-smile. “It’s worth a shot.”

While Admiral Tallon set about bypassing the many security implements on the door, Ahsoka took a deep breath and tried to center herself in the Force. However, her emotions were turbulent. She was as upset as Mon Mothma appeared to be, and as angry as Velus was acting. Now that she was about to meet with the Zabrak face-to-face again, she wasn’t sure how she would react. The door controls bleeped in recognition of Adar Tallon’s credentials, and the locks clicked. Ahsoka decided then to move with the flow of the Force, to act upon her instincts. The door opened with a hiss.

“I wonder how much electric current those new legs of yours can take before I burn out the circuitry,” Velus was saying just as the Togruta marched in.

Velus didn’t act as surprised as Officer Capel had been when interrupted. He and the ex-Jedi nodded knowingly at each other, and the man instantly stepped back from the table, folding his hands behind his back, allowing her to take the lead. He did not move to leave the room, however, and Ahsoka was glad for it. His presence was comforting, helped to keep her grounded. It felt good, knowing she had someone there to back her up.

Maul smiled broadly up at her, and he regarded her in an almost fond manner. “Ah, Lady Tano,” he said quietly, “I was beginning to think you had abandoned me.”

“Cut the crap, Maul,” Ahsoka seethed, going around the table. She didn’t realize she was pushing the restraining chair back with the Force until it hit the wall. When it couldn’t go back any further, the former spy leaned in, placing her hands over the metal shackles pinning the Dathomirian’s arms to the chair. She was so angry, she was shaking. “Straight answers, old man. Did you bring something aboard my ship?”

Her ire seemed to have some sort of effect on the Zabrak. His head was tilted back as he stared at her. If his skin weren’t already such a vivid crimson color, she would have sworn his face was flushed. His eyelids fluttered under her glare, and he breathed deeply, as though savoring her rage and her proximity. If she hadn’t been so incensed, Ahsoka might have drawn back. She didn’t care to feed his darkness. When he opened his eyes and looked directly into hers, she saw they were gleaming a brilliant gold: the eyes of a hungry predator. “Yes,” he whispered breathlessly. Damn asshole was really enjoying himself!

“What is it?” she demanded, but Maul only shook his head slightly and clicked his tongue.

“Oh, no, Lady Tano,” he murmured. “I promised your friend a surprise. I will not ruin it.”

The Togruta growled and allowed her aura to press into the Zabrak’s, crushing into him from all sides, constricting him. Maul’s eyes widened momentarily at the sensation, but then the bastard grinned. “You walk dangerously close to the shadows, my Lady,” he told her. “Be careful of where you tread.”

She chose to ignore the comment and instead pressed on: “Where is it, then? You had better answer me.” Her tone was low and dangerous; she felt as though she were barely keeping herself together. Damn the Zabrak and his oppressive darkness! She was sure it was infecting her.

“At the far end of your main cargo area,” the Nightbrother said, “is a large, walk-in freezer. You keep it mostly empty. I had plenty of room to work with.” He paused, observing her reaction. Ahsoka’s grip on the armrests of the restraining chair was so tight, her knuckles and fingernails were white. “I left it in the back.”

“Pray no one gets harmed from this,” Ahsoka growled, shoving herself away from the Dathomirian, “or I will personally undo every single procedure the Rodians did to save your sorry ass.”

She stepped away briskly and walked past Velus and to the door, where she pounded on it with the side of her fist.

“Where are you going?” Velus asked her, stepping up behind her.

“To verify this lowlife’s claims,” she replied while she waited for Adar Tallon to open the door.

“What‽” the man exclaimed.

“You cannot possibly be thinking of going there yourself!” the Zabrak called out from his seat, his tone incredulous.

Ahsoka cast a glare his way, then turned back to Velus. “Listen, it’s my ship, my responsibility. I’m not going to risk anyone getting hurt.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sinjir asked her in a low whisper, though Ahsoka was sure Maul could hear him anyway. “What if it’s some kind of bioweapon?”

“Admiral Tallon seems to think along the same lines. It doesn’t matter.” Just then, the locks clicked, and the door before her opened. Ahsoka made as though to go through it.

“Lady Tano – wait!”

She only stopped and turned to look at the Dathomirian because of the despair she heard in his voice. Maul looked agitated, struggling against the chair’s restraints for the first time since she’d seen him in it.

“Do not be foolish,” he told her as he strained against his bindings. “Let your friends send droids for it!”

“You are the last person whose input I care about!” she shot back, her hand on the entranceway frame in order to keep the door from closing again. Adar Tallon peered into the room over her shoulder, worried and slightly confused.

“Stubborn idiot!” the Zabrak growled. “You could die!”

“Which means you’ll have won our game,” she snapped immediately. “So, well played, I suppose.” She turned back to Velus with a roll of her eyes. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. Just hang tight; I shouldn’t be gone for long.”

“No – stop!” Maul screamed after her, but Ahsoka had already spun on her heel and was making for the second doorway. Fortunately, this next exit didn’t require Admiral Tallon’s clearance credentials in order to open from the inside. She had scarcely stepped into the hallway however, than she heard the Nightbrother yell after her in frustration: “AHSOKA!”

His shout was laced with his Living Force – she felt it as much as she heard the sound. The very walls shuddered – soundproofed as they were, and the lights along the ceiling flickered. The former Jedi frowned slightly, then lifted her chin up determinedly and took off down the hall with long strides. Behind her in the viewing room, she heard some slight commotion as the chancellor and her entourage reacted. Soon, she heard footsteps come up behind her as Velus ran to catch up.

“Hey, Fulcrum,” he called. “Tano, wait up!”

She only obeyed because she was nearing the elevator and realized she probably didn’t have the clearance necessary to operate it. Ahsoka tried to shake off the impatience she was feeling and offered the man a half-hearted grin. “Tano? I thought we were on a first-name basis now.”

“Oh!” Velus seemed embarrassed. He took a few seconds to catch his breath. “Well, I mean, if you’d prefer that I –”

“It’s fine,” the Togruta replied. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“I only referred to you in such an informal manner to get under the old man’s skin. And well, it worked.”

“It did,” Ahsoka agreed. “You did a very good job back there.” She sighed, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension out of them.

“Speaking of the old bastard,” Velus continued, “He asked me to come after you. I think he’s worried.”

“Worried about what I’ll find, I bet,” the ex-Jedi muttered, hands on her hips. “He should be worried. I will make good on my threat, you know.”

“No, I meant that he’s genuinely worried about your wellbeing.”

Ahsoka scoffed and shook her head. “Cut me a break, Sinjir. You don’t mind if I become more informal with you, do you? I feel as though we’ve become pals, dealing with that jerk together.”

“Not at all,” Velus replied, grinning at her. “I guess first-name basis it is. Just don’t refer to me as the Empire's Wrath. When he called me that, I thought I was going to lose my lunch.”

“I told you he could pick at your brain.”

“Yes, well, you and I managed to rattle his, too. Especially just now. We make a good team, dare I say.”

Ahsoka allowed herself a small chuckle. “I agree,” she said. But as she remembered the information they were able to get out of the Zabrak, her mood darkened again. Noticing this, Velus placed a hand on her shoulder. “You alright?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m not. I just… I can’t believe I allowed him to bring something aboard my ship, then brought it all the way here, to the center of the New Republic! If something happens to ruin Chandrila, hurt its people, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Hey, this isn’t your fault,” the dark-haired man told her. “But I do think you should let the Defense Fleet handle it. Tallon is already dispatching a droid team as we speak. I heard him and Mon discussing it as I followed after you. If it’s something biological, we won’t have to worry about droids getting infected. Now, if it’s some type of explosive…”

“Impossible,” Ahsoka said with a shake of her head.

“I doubt that’s the case, too,” Velus agreed. “Everything points to some type of biohazard, if he stowed away anything at all. He could be lying through his teeth.”

“No…” the former Padawan said pensively. “He isn’t lying. He wouldn’t lie. Not to me.”

“You’re pretty sure of that, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Yeah…” Sinjir ran a hand over his scruffy facial hair, deep in thought. “I get that impression, too. Mind if I share an observation with you?”

“Please do.”

“You told me he’s deeply bonded, and I think he is, just not to those crystals.”

Ahsoka raised an eye-ridge inquiringly. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I’d say he cares more about you than he does about those rocks,” the man explained.

The Togruta laughed incredulously, but Velus raised a hand to wave away whatever protests she was about to offer.

“Listen, I’ve been trained to pick up on things like these, okay?” he insisted. “His entire demeanor changed the instant you walked into that room. And he only truly got to talking to me once I mentioned your name. He was waiting for you, I know it. He reiterated as much to Capel, remember? It’s why I immediately began using your first name, because I knew that would get him going. And I was right. He was talking to me, but that information was meant for you to hear. He knew all along you were in the adjacent room. You mentioned yourself that he can sense others through the Force or whatever. I think he’s obsessed.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms in front of her chest as though to shield herself from Velus’s words. She didn’t like the implication, but she also knew better than to argue. So far, this man’s instincts had been proven to be right on the mark. “He wants to kill me,” she stated instead.

“Well,” Sinjir offered, “that’s a kind of obsession. Although I’m not entirely convinced that he really wants you dead. It’s more along the lines of wanting to… collect you, keep you. If that makes any sense at all.”

“Like a trophy, perhaps?”

“Maybe. Either way, it’s unhealthy and dangerous. You should be careful around him.”

“Trust me,” the Togruta said, “I can handle Maul.”

“Yeah? I think that’s the reason he likes you. You’re the only one he deems worthy of a challenge.”

Ahsoka felt her lekku flush, and she frowned. “How do you read all that in a person‽” she asked uncomfortably.

“Innate talent, and lots of training,” Velus replied, grinning. “Most of it involving beatings. Either someone beating the crap out of me, or me beating the crap out of someone else.” Before the situation could become more awkward, the man jerked his head back in the direction of the room where they’d come from. “Alright, let’s go back now,” he said, beginning to retrace his steps while looking over his shoulder at her. When she didn’t move to follow, he paused. “It’ll be better this way, Ahsoka, trust me. Those Defense Fleet droids are probably already halfway to your ship by now. Just pass on the clearance code to Tallon, and he’ll have astromechs fly it here. Then we’ll be able to inspect it safely, in a quarantined section of the citadel away from any organics. They’ll probably provide a live feed of the process as they go along. I know for a fact that Mon will demand one. Tell you what: I’ll even buy you a drink while we wait.”

“You really do have a drinking problem, don’t you?” Ahsoka asked, beginning to follow. “I didn’t even know the DF would sell alcohol in their headquarters.”

“No liquor, unfortunately,” Velus replied. “Just caf. Really terrible caf.”

Chapter Text

As soon as the two of them returned to the observation room, they found Adar Tallon waiting for them at the entrance, keeping it open by leaning against the doorframe.

“What’s your frequency, Admiral?” the Togruta asked him, trying to sound chipper. Her voice sounded strained even to her own montrals. Who was she kidding? She was more wound up than a two-credit chronometer.

“Excuse me?” Tallon asked, confused.

Ahsoka sighed. “Your frequency channel,” she explained. “Sinjir mentioned you’re sending a squad of droids over to my shuttle in order to check things over. They’ll need a clearance code in order to pilot my ship. I need your frequency channel information so I can send it to you through my wrist-com.” She held up her forearm so he could see her gauntlet.

“Oh, of course,” the admiral said, nodding in understanding. “Come on back in, both of you.”

“I’d rather not,” Ahsoka said, hanging back a bit. “I really don’t want to see Maul’s face right now. I’m so angry, I don’t know what I’ll do to him if he sneers in my direction one more time.” She hesitated before admitting: “I almost used the Dark Side of the Force in there. I could feel myself losing control.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about him bothering you for a while,” the admiral said. “The neural collar took a while to kick in, but once he really started trying to get out of that chair, it did its designed job. I believe the HTP it emitted was strong enough to paralyze him. He’s only semi-conscious now, and completely incoherent.”

Something twinged inside the Togruta upon learning about her foe’s state. It wasn’t exactly worry, or guilt, but in any case, it made her sad. Ever observant, Sinjir Velus put a hand on her back sympathetically, then pushed her forward gently, ushering her into the observation room.

Once inside, Ahsoka did her best not to look through the window into the adjacent room. She quickly sent the necessary information to the admiral and only half-listened while Sondiv and Mon Mothma tried to assure her that everything would be handled quickly and professionally, that she had nothing to fear or feel guilty over. However, once Tallon passed the clearance code along to his droid team via a datapad he had clipped to his belt, the ex-Jedi couldn’t help but chance a quick glance the Dathomirian’s way. Maul was slumped over in the containment chair, the energy binders being the only thing keeping him propped up. His muscles were twitching slightly, as though beyond his control: tiny spasms that ran down his shoulders and arms. His eyes were half closed, and he was mumbling. She frowned. She didn’t understand why the Zabrak had to be so impossible; it seemed the only time he was manageable was when hurt or rendered unconscious.

“It’s no use waiting around, cramped up in here,” Adar Tallon said, turning to the chancellor. “We have meeting rooms that are much more accommodating.”

“What about Maul?” Ahsoka asked. “We can’t just leave him in there, unsupervised. I’ve seen how quickly he recovers, and I don’t want to take any risks.”

“Neither do we,” the admiral agreed. “That’s why I’m going to get him transferred into a cell immediately. Don’t worry – we’ll leave personnel on guard.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll remain behind until he’s been properly secured,” the Togruta said.

“I’ll stay with Fulcrum,” Velus offered. “I’ve worked in this complex before, so I know my way around. Just send me the hall and room number, and I’ll get us there. We’ll catch up with you shortly.”

“Very well,” Mon Mothma agreed, rising from her seat along with her other advisor.

Before the three of them exited the room, Sondiv clapped a hand on Velus’s shoulder. “Excellent work in there, Sinjir,” he said quietly. “I’ll beam you the information over as soon as they show us where we’ll be waiting.”

Velus nodded and waited with Ahsoka after that. The ex-Jedi remained quiet, keeping her attention on Maul. Noticing her distraction, Sinjir didn’t try to engage her in conversation. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before DF soldiers arrived to move the captive Zabrak. The pair accompanied the Defense Fleet personnel over to the first cell beside the interrogation rooms. The Dathomirian didn’t resist as he was pushed along in his containment chair and placed in the cell, or as a shock collar was buckled on to rest right beside the neural collar he was already wearing, riding just a bit higher on his neck. The double-implements made his neck stretch out a little and looked highly uncomfortable to the Togruta. All Maul did, however, was mumble a bit and try to open his eyes. Before he was sealed in – restraining chair and all – she turned to the pair of soldiers that had secured him in.

“Is it alright if I try something with him?” she asked. An idea had popped into her head, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner. “It won’t take long,” she assured them.

The two young men looked at one another dubiously, then glanced at Velus, who nodded his approval. Although he was very obviously not part of the military command, the soldiers acquiesced after the advisor assented, seemingly intimidated a bit by him. Ahsoka grinned. Velus really did have quite a reputation, it seemed.

Entering the cell, the Togruta stepped up to the containment chair. Facing it, she grabbed it by the armrests and pulled it towards the cot. She immediately sat down on the thin mattress as soon as she felt the material touch the back of her thighs. She was now opposite the Zabrak, more or less at eye level. Tentatively, she moved her hands back from the shackles on Maul’s forearms and allowed them to rest over his.

His skin was warm and a bit taut over firm bones and muscles. Maul was slightly underweight, muscular in a lean sort of way. This didn’t surprise her, as most residents of Tatooine were often malnourished due to the arid ecosystem of the desert planet. Foodstuffs were mainly imported, expensive and hard to come by. Yet the Zabrak was by no means feeble: she could feel the strength in his steady pulse, recalled the impact of his fists when they had faced off. His fingers twitched the moment her skin came into contact with his, and he mumbled something incomprehensible, his brow furrowing. Ahsoka had to take advantage now that the Dathomirian was not fully conscious and in control of his thoughts. In truth, what she was going to attempt might only work because he was not completely asleep or awake, but rather in a drowsy in-between.

The former Padawan knew she wouldn’t be able to read Maul’s thoughts. Scrying was not something she liked to do, and thus not one of her strong suits. However, like most Force users, she still had a certain level of clairsentience that was much more advanced than a normal person’s. In her case, her ability was strongest in sensing the emotions of others and her environment. Now that the Zabrak was in a semi-conscious state, she knew he would be less guarded against any intrusion into his psyche. Ahsoka hoped she would be able to get a better impression of what Maul had brought along from Tatooine if she reached past his defenses and deciphered his feelings. Touching him wasn’t exactly required, but it facilitated the transfer of information.

“Are you going to look into his mind?” Velus asked from the entrance. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“No, nothing like that,” Ahsoka replied quietly, holding onto the Nightbrother’s hands, and closing her eyes. “Peering into his thoughts is an invasion of privacy and a violation of his identity. Even if he has no issues doing so, I cannot bring myself to do the same. It must’ve been disconcerting for you when he looked into your memories, for example.”

Velus grunted but didn’t reply. “What is it you’re doing then?” he asked instead.

“I’m trying to… understand him,” she answered after a while, but she was only barely paying attention to the man at that point. Her focus was elsewhere. “If I can… feel what he is feeling, was feeling… maybe I can figure out what it is he brought onboard my ship.”

Behind closed eyelids, Ahsoka saw nothing, but that was fine, as she wasn’t expecting any visual cues. She felt Maul’s fingers continue to twitch and spasm in her hands, as though he were trying to pull away from her. There was definitely a sense of panic she was picking up from him. Yes, panic. Overwhelming fear, pain, and anger.

Suddenly, the Togruta was back in the abyss. Everything around her fell away: the feeling of the cot beneath her, the cool, crisp, filtered air of the cell, Velus’s presence. Unlike previously, when she’d been under the effects of the newoongall toxin, this trance came upon her from one moment to the next. There had been no gradual easing into the vision this time. One instance, she had been in the cell, clasping Maul’s hands in her own. The next, she was standing in the darkness. Except this time, she was not alone.

Looming before her, within arm’s reach, but with its back turned to her, was the furred avian-like behemoth who she’d seen battling the krayt dragon. It was hunched over, huddled over something protectively, and chirruping softly. It was very evident to the former Jedi that the creature was in pain. She stepped up to it and placed a hand upon its lower back, trying to comfort it. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to do so. It was obviously a creature of shadow; she could feel the wickedness of the Dark Side surrounding it.

The moment it felt her touch, the chiropteran screeched in alarm and took flight, clutching something in one of its clawed feet. It didn’t go far, just enough to get away from her. Ahsoka went running after it, trying to see what it carried, but by the time she reached the animal again, it had hunkered down and spread its wings out around its legs and lower body. It was purposefully trying to keep its treasure hidden. When she approached it, it turned silver eyes onto her and hissed menacingly.

Maul…?

The creature hissed at her again, snapping its toothed beak.

Away! Away from me!

The former Jedi looked upon the creature carefully. It was trembling slightly, and she got the impression that this wasn’t due to its rage. Keeping her demeanor calm, she gently pushed feelings of serenity towards it, trying to soothe it. Let me help you. I can help you.

Away from me!

Ahsoka noticed the streaks of matted fur down the squat face, saw how tears still seeped out of those tiny silver eyes that squinted now at her disdainfully. She took another step cautiously forward, reached out towards one of the splayed wings tentatively. Before she ever got close enough to touching it, however, the bird-bat recoiled furiously with a shriek and raised its wings high before flapping them down hard against the ground. The motion was accompanied by a strong wave of Dark Side energy that flung the ex-Padawan back several meters. As she landed painfully on her stomach, she heard the winged daemon scream again: AWAY!

Ahsoka moaned aloud, trying to expel the pain out of her body. It took her a moment to realize she was back in the cell, with Velus sitting on the cot beside her, shaking her by the shoulders.

“Hey, hey now! Enough of that! Snap out of it already!”

The Togruta blinked several times as she tried to lift her head. It felt heavy, as though her montrals were suddenly filled with lead and weighing down her skull. By the stars, that hurt.

She realized she was still clasping the Zabrak’s hands in her own, had gripped at them more tightly, even as he now continued to try and wrench them free of her in his half-sleep haze. She was leaning forward into him, her montrals resting on his cybernetic knees. The energy binders keeping him in place were actively buzzing against her horns, which explained the strange ache in her head. She groaned as Sinjir pulled her back into a sitting position and kept her propped up against his side. Still, she refused to relinquish her grip on Maul.

“Old bastard was right,” Velus muttered now, pulling back at her arms, his tone exasperated and worried, “you are a stubborn idiot. Tano – let him go, will you‽”’

With utmost effort, Sinjir managed to loosen Ahsoka’s grasp off of one of the Dathomirian’s hands, although Ahsoka still reached for it absentmindedly, partially dazed herself. Letting go of Maul helped her come back to her senses, though, and after a few seconds, she was able to sit upright on her own. She looked bashfully over at the young advisor.

“Sinjir – I’m sorry about that,” she said sincerely. “Things took a turn I wasn’t expecting.”

“You’re telling me,” the man replied with a frown, but he seemed more concerned than upset. “You both started shaking a bit. I thought you were about to get a seizure. Then you started mumbling, but I couldn’t understand what you were trying to say. And then, well, then you tipped over on top of the guy. He’s been spasming ever since. I mean, look at him!”

Ahsoka finally turned her attention back to Maul and saw that Sinjir was right. The Nightbrother’s earlier occasional twitches had developed into full-blown convulsions. His spine arched against his restraints, and his eyes were rolled back in their sockets. His jaw was clenched, and his lips pulled back into a fierce snarl. He was even frothing a bit. Ahsoka jumped to her feet, alarmed.

“Is it the neural collar, do you think?” she asked, reaching around the Zabrak’s neck to get to the clasp. “Shut it off!”

“We can’t comply with your request, ma’am,” one of the soldiers right outside the cell informed her. It was only then that the Togruta remembered they had been standing there the entire time. Both men were wide-eyed in shock, yet their mouths remained set in a determined line. “That would go against orders from Admiral Tallon.”

Ahsoka was about to protest strongly, but the moment she released Maul’s other hand, the Nightbrother’s body relaxed, and he fell back against the seat with a soft groan. The former Padawan straightened up and stepped away from him, her lekku flushing. She couldn’t understand why he’d had such a visceral physical reaction to her touch, but she felt at fault somehow.

“I’m sure he’ll stay put, and hopefully remain nice and quiet now,” Velus commented, standing up beside her. “We should leave him be.”

Ahsoka hesitated, looking down upon the Zabrak for a time before nodding and leaving the cell. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she mumbled to Velus as the energy shields activated and the shock collar ready light turned on as well.

“Well, technically, he hurt himself,” Sinjir replied, walking away. Ahsoka followed. “I just think he really didn’t want you to do whatever it is you were trying, so when he fought to get away from you, the collar went off.”

The Togruta shook her head, wringing her hands before her. “Yeah, no, nice try,” she told the man. “Still feel like scum.”

“Listen, I know that feeling, alright? One of the reasons I started up on the alcoholism way back in the day. Helped to keep my conscience fuzzy. It isn’t so bad now, but after today…”

“Gonna knock a couple drinks back?” Ahsoka asked. “With your husband, at least? I hadn’t figured you for the married type, to be completely honest with you. Maul wasn’t lying about that, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t lying, the old vermin. He is very good at the mind-reading thing. Speaking of which… did you get anything useful out of him, at least?”

Ahsoka paused. She wasn’t convinced she should try and explain to Sinjir what she’d just seen in her mind. She hadn’t told him or the others about her first vision of the clashing beasts. Not because she wanted to keep anything hidden from them, but rather since she had noticed that all four were having a difficult time understanding some of the simpler tenets of the Force. As things were, Sondiv Sella had expressed that he believed the apparition of Obi-Wan Kenobi was in reality a hallucination she’d had, closer to a premonition through the Force, rather than an actual entity. She didn’t know how to explain her Force visions, let alone express what they meant. She wasn’t completely sure of their significance herself. Instead, she tried to break things down in a simplified version that Sinjir might understand: explaining what she saw without truly describing the bird-bat.

“I was only trying to sense his emotions,” she began carefully, “but I ended up triggering some type of deeper foresight. I’m not sure if it was only happening on my end, or if Maul saw something, too.”

“Wasn’t he there with you, in that vision thing?”

“I’m… not sure,” Ahsoka admitted. “I definitely felt an aura, and I thought it was his, but when I called out his name and tried to reach him through the Force, the presence fled. He wouldn’t let me near him at all.”

“So, no luck, then?”

By this point, they had reached the elevators and Sinjir glanced at his gauntlet before punching in a certain code to activate it, then pressing another button once they stepped inside. The doors closed, and they were soon on their way.

“Well, I did manage to read what he was feeling at the moment but can’t figure out the reason for those emotions.”

“I don’t mean to brag, but I’m rather proficient at picking up on body language and visual cues. It isn’t the same thing as reading emotions, but maybe I can help you figure something out if you’re willing to share the intel.”

The Togruta smiled at Sinjir. “I’m happy to get your input,” she replied. Taking a deep breath, she tried her best to explain. “The first thing I sensed off Maul was fear. That kind of struck me as odd. He was almost in a state of mental panic. And then, this deep feeling of… pain, loss. Before I could get a good read as to what type of loss he was experiencing – loss of a relationship, loss of something treasured, loss of hope – he warped his emotions and hid them behind anger and hate. Almost like a defensive mechanism. I think that is his defensive mechanism. After that, the vision started, and everything was dark in the Force. I could sense someone there, can almost bet my lightsabers that it was Maul, but he kept shunning me, trying to get away from me. There was anger and resentment in that interaction, too.”

She rubbed at her arms, feeling suddenly cold. “I think something terrible happened on Tatooine. Something that hurt him, made him furious. He was… so full of pain and hate. I don’t know… it makes me very sad for the old man.”

Sinjir Velus raised an eyebrow skeptically at her. “Um, something terrible did happen on Tatooine, Ahsoka,” he said. She looked at him inquiringly. “Well, not to be rude, but from his perspective, those emotions you’re describing all fit perfectly with your interaction with him. Panic? Well, we saw he freaked out because he didn’t want you going back to your ship. Pain and loss? Hate? You shot into his chest. That had to be painful. He almost lost his life! And he did lose those kyber crystals he still views as his. I think it’s obvious to say he’s angry at you, furious, as you said. Who knows? I don’t think he hates you, but maybe he’s convinced himself that he does. He definitely hated having you poke around his subconscious, in any case.”

At the man’s words, the former Jedi felt both her face and lekku blush uncomfortably. She felt suddenly foolish for not having reached the same conclusion. It seemed rather apparent, now that Velus mentioned it. However, when she had first sensed the Zabrak’s tumultuous feelings, she had – for some reason – not thought the sentiments were aimed at her. Perhaps she had overlooked the obvious because she couldn’t imagine being on the receiving end of so much hatred. Jeez, Tano, she scolded herself, get it together. Of course Maul detests you.

By this time, they had reached their designated floor, and Ahsoka followed numbly as Velus lead the way down the new corridor. Turning a corner, the Togruta was surprised to find that they had arrived not at a room, where the two of them were supposed to meet with the others, but rather a large, modern mess hall area. There were few people milling about; it was mostly empty of visitors, and those that were there looked like the staff that worked in the place. Puzzled, she turned to the advisor.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“Hey, I told you I’d buy you a drink, didn’t I?” Velus responded with a lopsided grin. “I may be a worthless scoundrel most days, but I keep my word, Lady Tano.”

Ahsoka groaned and rolled her eyes. “Ugh, please, don’t call me that.”

“Is Darth Maul the only one allowed to use that pet name?”

The Togruta scowled. “I’ve never known why he refers to me in that way, but I’m sure he’s being belittling. It’s best we drop the subject; talking about Maul is going to make me sick. You call me that one more time, and I’ll start using the alias he called you.”

“Ew, touché.”

While the former Padawan picked out a table for them to sit, Velus wandered leisurely over to the ordering bar and put in his request with an astromech that was tending it. He had scarcely sat down to join Ahsoka, than the droid rolled up to them, balancing two mugs of steaming hot liquid upon a flat lid on its top.

“Won’t Madam Mothma and Admiral Tallon get worried that we’re taking so long?” Ahsoka asked while Sinjir took a sip of his drink and made a grimace. “They’ll likely become upset if they find out our delay was due to us deciding to grab some hot caf.” She brought her own mug up to her lips and took a cautious taste. No sooner had the dark liquid hit her tongue, than she coughed a bit. Her eyes watered at the extreme bitterness, and the graininess of the fluid almost made her spit it back out. She forced herself to swallow it down. Somehow, though, the awfulness of it all made her feel better. Across the table from her, Velus watched her attentively.

“Well?”

“Wow.” Ahsoka commented after a few seconds. “You weren’t kidding. This stuff is horrible.”

“I think the NRC blew all their budget on the building, so they improvise with mud to make this stuff,” Velus quipped.

“Hm, at least it helps me put my shitty day into proper context,” the Togruta replied, chancing another gulp. It was just as terrible as the first, but it was a bit easier for her to get the liquid down this time.

“How do you mean?”

“I may be having a rough time of it lately, but at least, it’s not as dreadful as this.”

Sinjir laughed. “Hey, maybe that was the plan all along,” he mused. “Boosting people’s morale by subjecting them to the worst we’ve got. Do you think we can get Maul to cooperate with you if we threaten to make him drink this?”

Ahsoka chuckled briefly, but thinking about putting the Zabrak through one more awful thing, after what she’d just caused, made her uncomfortable. Her mood instantly soured worse than her drink, and she frowned thoughtfully.

“You worry about the old man, don’t you?”

The former spy looked up and briefly met Sinjir’s gaze, then shrugged with a helpless wave of her hand. She opened her mouth to object, but knew it was pointless to do so. She may have been able to dismiss Cebb Nereno’s observations on the matter, and deny her own feelings, but Velus had probably read her thoroughly before she ever got a chance to analyze herself. What he had said just now made sense when she heard it. Instead, she took another full swig of the disgusting brew before her. Her eyes watered, and she pretended it was due to the taste. Sinjir didn’t push her with further comments, instead letting her speak again at her own pace.

“Maul is one of the very few people left who are like me,” she tried to explain, staring into her cup. “And I’m not referring to Force sensitivity here. I mean people like Admiral Tallon, even Mon Mothma.”

“Double-veterans,” Sinjir said with a knowing nod. “Survivors of both wars, those who know what life was like before the Empire.”

“I feel like even most of them have moved on from the Clone Wars, from the Galactic Civil War… from Order 66.”

“And you haven’t?”

Ahsoka sighed. “I did what I needed to in order to survive those events, played my part to move things forward and help build a better future. At least, I hope I helped somewhat. But yes, a part of me remains trapped in the past. I hadn’t realized how large a part that was until I saw Maul’s saberstaff on Tatooine. Did you know that he and I were travelling aboard the same Venator-class when Order 66 was activated?”

Sinjir shook his head, eyes solemn. “You mentioned something about detaining this guy on Mandalore, back at the dacha, but I wasn’t sure what you were talking about.”

“What do you know about the Siege of Mandalore?”

Sinjir frowned. “My views on it are a bit skewed, mind you, as I was educated on galactic history through Imperial academies. But the gist of it was that before the Empire’s formation, the Republic was too weak to help neutral worlds during the Clone Wars, like Mandalore. Their ruler at that time, Duchess Satine Kryze, was murdered and her government overthrown, replaced by Prime Minister Almec, who was nothing more than a puppet working with the underground. When the Mandalorian resistance asked the Republic for aid, a military division was sent to help lay siege to the entire planet in hopes of capturing the criminal mastermind who was truly behind the… oooh, I see now. That was Maul, wasn’t it?”

Ahsoka smiled. “Yes, and I was part of the operation that participated in the Siege, although my name won’t be in official records of the conflict. I was no longer a Jedi during that time, and the only reason I was allowed there at all was due to my master’s – Anakin’s – interference. That military division you mentioned was a section of his troops, the 501^st Legion. Officially, he promoted his clone captain to the rank of Commander, and I acted as his advisor. Together, we faced off against and captured Maul. That’s what I was referring to when I told you all about handing the old man over to the Jedi Council.” She paused in her retelling, trying to push past the barrage of negative memories that were washing over her. “We never made it back to Coruscant,” she concluded quietly.

“Imperial records showed that the Tribunal – that Star Destroyer you’re referring to, that you were on – crashed into an uninhabited moon somewhere in the Inner Rim. Officially, there were no survivors. You’re telling me those records were wrong?”

“Yes, they were wrong. Three survived that wreck: Clone Captain Rex, Maul and myself.”

“So, you’ve worked with the old man before?” Sinjir asked. “Is that why you care about what happens to him?”

The Togruta shook her head. “Oh, I didn’t work with Maul during Order 66. We had already captured him, and were taking him back to face the Council, so he was locked up and unarmed when the clones turned on the Jedi. Although I was no longer a member of the Order, that included me. And Maul, for whatever reason. I released him from captivity, but it wasn’t so we could team up. It… bothers me to admit it now, but…” she sighed in frustration. “I used him. The only reason I let him out of that vault was so the clones would be distracted by him while I tried to rescue Rex from himself. I succeeded in getting Rex back, but Maul… well, I can’t even say he betrayed me. I made it perfectly clear to him that I only needed him as a diversion. I even told him that I wasn’t on his side, and in so many words pretty much had him understand I hoped he died in the process. He’s resourceful, though, so of course he didn’t die. And he brought down that Star Destroyer on his own. He made it out alive, and for the most part unscathed, I think. Rex and I only just managed to get out at the last minute. It was horrible, and for a long time afterwards, I resented Maul for the part he played. I suppose it was easier for me to blame him, rather than face reality and accept my share of the responsibility.”

She sat back in her chair, feeling emotionally spent. “The truth is, I don’t fault him for hating me. I told him, back on Tatooine, that I can’t bring myself to hate him, that I can’t really hate anyone, but that isn’t exactly true. For many years after Order 66, I managed to hate myself with no problem.” With that, she drained the rest of the liquid from her mug in one large gulp. “I may need another one of these before the day is over,” she muttered with a shudder.

“If you manage that, I’ll be highly impressed,” Sinjir said. “It’s a rare accomplishment around here; the DF folks will probably put your holo up at the counter or something. I can barely stomach one of these.” With that, the man promptly downed his remaining caf as well, then made to stand. “We should get to the others now. You’re right to assume Mon will worry, especially about you. She’s very fond of you, from what I can see. She’ll have my head for stalling.”

Ahsoka grinned. “I get the impression she’s always threatening to have your head, Sinjir.”

The man returned the grin, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. “Well, yes, but that never fazes me.”

The Togruta stood and followed after Velus, who was already starting to walk back towards the entrance of the mess hall. On their way out, he left his cup with the astromech at the bar. Ahsoka promptly did the same, nodding appreciatively at it as she did so.

Once they were back out in the hallway and walking towards their destination, Sinjir looked at Ahsoka out of the corner of his eye. Hands clasped behind his back in a very formal manner, he said quietly, “Thank you, by the way, for sharing all of that information. I can’t imagine that was easy for you.”

Ahsoka turned to him, surprised. “I should be the one thanking you for listening. And for the caf. As horrid as it was, I do feel better now. I think I needed to get all that gunk off my chest.”

“Well, whenever you need to vent…” Velus shrugged. “Be forewarned, though: I tend to give the worst possible advice. Just ask my husband.”

The former Padawan smiled. “I may just take you up on that,” she mused.

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence: down the hall and through one more elevator ride. Just as they were making their way down another corridor, he turned to her hesitantly, looking suddenly embarrassed a bit. “May I ask you something before we head in with the others?”

“Go ahead.”

“How old are you? Because you mentioned the Siege of Mandalore, and that was so long ago… I mean, I know you were active during the Clone Wars, but I guess I never stopped to put everything into perspective regarding the timeline of it all. You even know Admiral Tallon since back then, and he’s due to retire soon. Mon is from that era, too, and she’d be a grandmother now if Lieda wasn’t such a prude.”

“Sinjir!” Ahsoka laughed, unable to help herself.

“I say that with the utmost affection for the dear girl.”

“I’m 48,” the Togruta replied, her eyes sparkling. “47, technically, but my birthday is less than a standard month away.”

The man stopped short and gawked at her. “You look about the same age as me!” he gasped. “Younger, even!”

Ahsoka looked over her shoulder as she continued down the hall and shrugged, a small smile dancing upon her lips. “Togrutas live about 110 standard years, on average. I’ve met elders who were a bit older than that. We mature at the same rate as humans for the first quarter of our lives, then the aging process seems to slow down greatly. At my age, I’m considered as still being in my prime, so to speak. I’m nearing middle-age, but not quite there yet.”

Sinjir let out a low whistle and shook his head in disbelief as he trotted to catch up to her. “I wasn’t aware of that. The Empire hardly ever allowed any non-Humans into their ranks, and they prohibited personnel from studying non-Human cultures and languages, so I wasn’t ever exposed to many other species as an adult until I began working with the Rebellion.”

Just then, as Ahsoka was walking past a door, Sinjir reached out and touched her arm. “We’re here,” he said, typing a code into the security pad on the door. Fortunately, this entrance was not as high-security as those on the lower levels, and once a series of buttons was pushed, a green light flashed, and the lock clicked. “There you are!” Sondiv’s voice greeted them as the two walked into the room.

It was a decent-sized office, not too spacious, but thankfully not as cramped as the viewing room from before. There was a rectangular table in the center with enough places for ten people to sit around. Mon Mothma, Sondiv Sella and Adar Tallon were all gathered around one end of it, with a portable holo-projector erected on the glossy tabletop. At the moment, it was inactive.

“Ahsoka, Sinjir – we were worried about you!” the chancellor said in a gently chiding manner as her primary advisor and the Togruta picked their seats: Ahsoka taking the spot beside the admiral and Sinjir sitting across from her beside Sondiv. Mon Mothma sat at the head of the table, her hands clasped tightly before her. It felt to Ahsoka as though the very walls of the room itself were holding their breath.

“I apologize, Madam,” Ahsoka offered before the woman could scold her advisor. “I wasn’t feeling too well – tired, mainly – so I asked Sinjir to accompany me to grab some caf, since he knows his way around here. I needed the energy boost.”

“Oh, dear, you should have simply let us know and we would have had beverages brought here,” Mon Mothma said, the mild displeasure on her features replaced by lines of concern.

“The guards paged me to inform us of your attempt to force information out of Maul through telepathy,” Admiral Tallon said with a slight frown. Great, Ahsoka thought, of course they did. “Mon and Sondiv were catching me up on your mission. I understand Maul put you through the wringer more than once in the past few days. You must be exhausted after that ordeal. With that in mind, perhaps you shouldn’t have tried it, Ahsoka. We’ll get that information soon either way. The astromechs already reported back to me, just before the two of you arrived. They have control of your T-6 and are bringing it into one of our quarantine hangars. As soon as they are safely docked, they will commence the sweep.”

“We’ll be connecting to the team via a live holo-feed,” Sondiv added. “So, anything they discover, we’ll find out in real-time.”

“They should be connecting to us any minute now,” the admiral agreed.

The room fell back into its tense silence. They were all apprehensive, but Ahsoka felt that none more so than she. While they waited, the Togruta closed her eyes and attempted to still her emotions, focusing on the beating of her heart, on her breathing, trying to enter a semi-meditative state. It was no use, she told herself, to stress about what was to come. She could do nothing to change it. Instead, she allowed her mind to wander back to the vision she’d had, tried to recall the details of that strange bird-bat creature. She was nearly sure that was the Zabrak. Why he would appear in that manner to her was beyond her comprehension. What had he been holding? What was he hiding from her so vehemently? He seemed protective over it, whatever it was. She had been unable to see anything, save for… hm, now that she forced her memory, she realized she had caught a glimpse of something dangling between those clawed digits. Strips of leather… bits of… bone? Yes, hand-carved beads made of bone, teeth, and horn, hanging on thick, braided threads of tanned animal hide. Some of the beads were painted or dyed in a ruddy pigment that was absurdly familiar. Absurd because she recognized the color: that specific shade of rubicund rust was something she’d only just recently come across, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember where. Tatooine, no doubt, for the image in her mind screamed of the desert planet. However, she very much doubted if the Dathomirian was trying to protect an entire world. Kriff, it just didn’t make any sense.

She was pulled out of her reverie by a series of beeps coming from the holoprojector on the tabletop. She opened her eyes just in time to see the soft blue light emit as the contraption whirred to life. The men at the table leaned forward anxiously while the chancellor remained poised, the only sign betraying her emotional state being the pale white of her nails and knuckles as she gripped her hands more tightly together. Ahsoka heard the warbling trills and whistles as the astromech providing the feed gave out its report in its binary language.

“Affirmative, you may begin,” Admiral Tallon responded, observing the projection intently.

In spite of the blue tones of the hologram, Ahsoka recognized the interior of her ship. The droid was at her cockpit, and now those viewing got a wide shot of the remaining interior as the automaton whirled around and headed towards the hallway, bypassing the med bay and maintenance pit. The wider shot allowed them to see that there were two other droids onboard, both of which were shorter than the one providing the coverage.

“Our team leader here is JJH2-K1,” the admiral commented as said droid relayed instructions to the other two. “His photoreceptors are the most advanced out of the three, so we chose him to provide live feed of the procedure. We are seeing what he’s seeing.”

Mon Mothma nodded thoughtfully. “What about the other two?” she asked. Ahsoka knew the woman was trying to ease her own nerves by understanding all aspects of the mission. Even if the chancellor knew close to nothing about mechanics, she liked to have all facts on hand. Ahsoka had come to understand this about the Chandrilan during her years working for the Rebel Alliance.

“T3-X45 and 4B-81,” Adar Tallon replied. “The T3 is designed after a much older model – from the time of the Old Republic, I believe – but with all modern utilities. It’s a sturdy fella, quite strong for its size. I figured we could use one of these for the mission in case the Zabrak brought anything that would require more power to handle. One can never be too careful.”

“Indeed,” Mon Mothma agreed.

“The smaller one on four wheels is our most important member of the team, however,” the military man continued. “4B units are most commonly used in scientific research. They’re shock absorbent, versatile, with a variety of appendages with which to grasp and collect samples. Their knowledge matrix is the most extensive in the galaxy, so it’ll be able to identify any type of plague, virus, bacteria or fungus that is known – including those considered eradicated by modern medicine.” With that, he finally tore his gaze away from the projection (the droids were already in the T-6’s main cargo room and were headed for the freezer in the back) to look at the ex-Jedi. “Don’t worry, Ahsoka,” he assured her, “whatever Darth Maul brought onboard, the Defense Fleet will handle it.”

“Excellent, that is great to hear,” the chancellor said, her posture relaxing just the tiniest bit.

Ahsoka wished she could feel as confident as Admiral Tallon. She tried to smile at him, but it likely came across more as a pained grimace. She watched, rapt, as the team of astromechs opened the heavy, insulated door of the refrigerated compartment. Vapors wafted out of the entrance as the door fully opened, making it difficult to see what awaited beyond. Undeterred, the three droids entered the freezer unit, completely unperturbed by the drop in temperature within. Through the photoreceptors of JJH2-K1, those in the room made out a rather large bulk in the far end, about the size of a jerba or another similar mount. As the droids came up to it, bleeping and clicking curiously to one another, Ahsoka realized the enormous form seemed to be a make-shift sled of some sort, its cargo covered with several of her grov wool blankets. Much too large to be a simple canister of some biotoxin or virus. The Togruta’s stomach clenched.

After a few inquiring bleeps, the astromechs all appeared to agree on the next step of the process. The two smaller droids each produced a pair of pincers from within their bodies, then rolled forward on opposite ends of the bulk. Facing each other, they took hold of one edge of the blanket closest to the front and, in synchronized movement, peeled it back while the team leader carefully zoomed in and transmitted their findings.

There was an audible gasp from those sitting around the table. Sondiv even scrambled out of his seat, planting his hands on the tabletop and leaning forward as far as he could go in order to ascertain what was before them on the holograph. Ahsoka, for her part, was unable to move. She felt the blood drain from her head and settle into the bottoms of her feet, rooting her in place. No, no, no, this was wrong!

“Skrog, what is that‽” Sinjir muttered, squinting at the projection, as if that would help any. “What the kriff is that‽”

It was a corpse, that much was apparent. Humanoid. Beyond that, the individual was unrecognizable. It was mangled and contorted, as though its final moments had been spent writhing in extreme agony. Throughout its entire body were sharp, bone-like spikes protruding at odd angles, as though blooming outward from within, ripping through light-colored garments made of rough fabric. These thorns were even growing out of the deceased’s masked face: from the gaping mouth hole and bulging, round goggles that were all barely holding together with strips of leather at this point.

“Tusken,” Ahsoka whispered, finally finding her voice. In that same moment, 4B-81 trilled its binary observation to the other two droids, and Adar Tallon translated for them: “You’re right, Ahsoka. 4B has just identified the remains to the best of its abilities, but it says it doesn’t recognize the phenomenon mutilating the body.”

“What kind of sick individual would do this?” the chancellor asked, aghast. The hand she had brought to her mouth was trembling. The woman was obviously very dismayed. Ahsoka would even venture to say she was afraid.

“More importantly, how did he do this?” Sinjir countered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Do we really want to know what’s beneath the rest of it?” Sondiv asked, sitting back down heavily. He looked pale and shaken.

“My guess is: more of the same,” the admiral replied grimly.

Sure enough, as the droids proceeded to uncover the remaining bulk, they discovered that there were two more Tusken bodies accompanying the first corpse. All three were suffering from the same ailment: bony thorns that, through the feed, appeared only in shades of blue, but Ahsoka knew by instinct that ranged in color from dark grays and sepias, darkening at the tips, ripping their bodies apart from the inside out, bloodstains staining their clothing in places, leaving a splotchy mess. It was almost too much for the Togruta to bear.

She was reminded of the labored breathing and dull roar of the reptile in her previous vision. The one Maul had been battling. Or had that been Maul? What if she’d misinterpreted what she’d seen? Or what if the flying behemoth had been the cause of the krayt dragon’s affliction? What did any of it mean? She couldn’t make sense of anything anymore. Her head reeled and she felt nausea beginning to creep up her esophagus.

As she stared at the hologram with watery eyes, her attention was called to one of the corpses in particular. All three Raiders – what she could see of their vestments beneath the layers of thorns – were wearing ornate belts, trinkets added to their regular garb. Ahsoka had seen Tusken Raiders before this particular trip to Tatooine and knew that they rarely embellished their attire. Those that did so were usually elders and chieftains, warriors who had earned the distinction. It was almost a sacred tradition, from what she was aware. Even Maul, when disguised as one of them back on the desert planet, had kept his attire simple and unremarkable. The cadaver that drew her eye had a cord of braided leather wrapping around his right arm, beads of what appeared to be bone or perhaps wood woven in. The thorny outgrowths on this Tusken’s body were ripping the leather apart, ruining the careful artistry. This was too much, too much…! Ahsoka wanted to bury her face in her hands and weep but feared what she would see behind closed eyes if she did.

“Ahsoka.”

The sound of the chancellor’s voice brought the former Padawan back to reality. “I’m sorry, Madam, I wasn’t paying attention,” the Togruta said, turning her gaze from the holographic feed to Mon Mothma’s face.

“That is understandable, my dear,” the older woman said. “I’m sure we are all justifiably rattled by these images. However, it’s important that you answer this: to your knowledge, is there any technique in the Force that could cause what we see before us now? I am not suggesting you are capable of such atrocities, but this is most certainly the handiwork of Darth Maul. I know the Jedi were aware of various practices of the Force and studied them – including dark arts and forbidden forms – even if the techniques themselves were never taught or practiced.”

“The droids are reporting that even after scanning these spikes, they cannot determine if they are a type of fungal growth, a parasite, a plant, or even the result of a bacterial infection,” Adar Tallon explained. “We need to go through any possibility. DNA samples will have to be taken, but in the meanwhile, if there is anything you can do to enlighten us…”

Ahsoka shook her head, at a loss. “I am so sorry,” she began, “but I am as dumbfounded as the rest of you. Nothing I ever studied in the Temple approximates this.” She chanced a glance back at the transmission. The T3 astromech had left the freezer and disappeared from view. Moments later, honks and whistles were heard as it returned, bringing a large containment capsule with it. The droids proceeded to place the first Tusken body within it, being careful to drape the body with its wool blanket before sealing the pod. Once done, the T3 pulled the container from view and left again, presumably to obtain another one. Meanwhile, the little 4B trilled and clicked as it kept scanning the remaining corpses, its screen rapidly fluctuating to various shades as it conducted its analysis.

“Do you think…” Sinjir began thoughtfully, staring intently at the images before them. “Is it possible that this affliction – for lack of a better word – that it was brought on by the kyber crystals?”

Startled, Ahsoka turned to look at him. She noticed that the others had as well. “What makes you suggest that?” Sondiv asked.

“Well, it’s only that this reminds me somewhat of Eadu,” the younger man said. “When I visited there, and the researchers were showing off their progress, they regaled us with presentations about the nature of these crystals. They would go on and on and on… quite tedious, really, but I’m glad now that I paid attention somewhat. Among the things they showed us were images of the kyber extraction going on in Ilum. This reminds me of what they dug up, somewhat.”

“I’ve been to Ilum on several occasions,” Ahsoka said. “It was a sacred place for the Jedi. I obtained my first kyber crystal there, as a youngling. The natural formations on the planet look nothing like this.” She gestured toward the holoprojector.

“Ah, but did you ever go there after the Empire took over that ice rock?” Sinjir countered. Ahsoka shook her head. “The further the excavation into the core of the planet, the crystal formations found started to look more and more like thorny shrubs made of glass, or… bone. Like what’s coming out of these wretched creatures, quite honestly.”

“Do you think Maul used the power within these crystals to transform these Sand People?” Adar Tallon asked anxiously. “Perhaps we should take those crystals in for analysis as well. If you don’t mind, Ahsoka.”

“I doubt putting the kyber through a matter analyzer is going to give us new information,” the Togruta replied. “Bled kyber crystals don’t physiologically change from their original state. Rather, it’s a transformation in the Force. And I’m wary of anyone handling them or trying to take those lightsabers apart. Even if you manage to open up the hilt pieces without damaging the crystals within, they will probably radiate severe heat and Dark Side energy. You all saw how Maul was able to affect his environment a while ago when he screamed. The Force can interfere with the electrical grid of the building. It’s best we leave them be for now.” She took a deep breath and pressed her mouth into a thin line. “I will need to speak with Maul, however.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, my dear?” Mon Mothma asked worriedly. “You trying to peer into this individual’s mind has already exhausted you, and this entire ordeal must have been very taxing overall. Perhaps you should wait until the Defense Fleet completes their study.”

“No,” Ahsoka said decisively. “If those kyber crystals really had something to do with this mutation in the Tusken…” she shuddered. “I must have Maul answer to me. I need to know how he did this.”

In truth, Ahsoka was worried. What Sinjir had mentioned about the kyber had unsettled her, for the possibility that they would somehow be involved in the current situation had not crossed her mind. However, now as she ruminated over the events of the past few days – more specifically, her encounters with the Zabrak on Tatooine – she had to admit that Sinjir’s suggestion was very plausible. She remembered how Maul’s personality had changed, or rather, intensified, while he was using the bled crystals. She recalled their malevolent shrieks in her own mind as they assaulted her psychologically during that first fight against their master. They had their own agency – she had determined as much – and it wouldn’t be too far off, she supposed, that they could cause the symptoms she was seeing now. However, if that were the case: why hadn’t Maul mentioned it when he warned her to relinquish them? He had seemed genuinely panicked when he thought she was going to recover his “surprise” from her shuttle in person. “You could die!” he’d shouted, and he’d even been desperate enough to where he had done something he never had before: call her by her first name. The distress in his attempt to dissuade her from exposing herself to risk had not been present when she’d taken possession of the crystals on Rodia, say. Unless, of course, something had changed during the time she’d been unconscious. His shift in attitude, for one. She shuddered just remembering the vehement hatred that had emanated from him during their second confrontation. In either case, she would get nowhere just sitting there, wondering. She needed to speak with him, and the sooner she did so, the better. She didn’t want to give him time to weave any falsehoods. Although, as she’d told Sinjir, she didn’t think Maul would outright lie to her. Sighing heavily, she rose from her seat.

“Sinjir, would you be so kind as to accompany me back to the detention level?” she asked. Across from her, Velus nodded quickly and stood as well.

“It might be prudent to wait a bit,” Adar Tallon suggested. “At least until the droids complete their mission.”

“Thank you, Admiral, but I’d rather get this over with already,” the Togruta replied. “Your droid team has my permission to do whatever they feel necessary to finish their tasks. If they need to remove all frozen cargo and incinerate it to make sure nothing gets contaminated, they may do so.” She walked around the table and met up with Velus at the entrance.

“I’ll open up my frequency once we get there,” the man said, directing himself to the chancellor and his counterpart. “You’ll be able to hear everything.” With that, he and the former Jedi left the room.

Their walk back the way they’d come was quiet at first. Ahsoka could sense a deep anger brewing in Sinjir’s aura. It was also evident in the long, firm strides he took, in the way his fists were clenched tightly at his sides, in the tense swing of his arms.

“Slow down there, Sinjir,” she said as they walked along. “Old man’s not going anywhere.”

“He’s filth,” Velus muttered in reply. They entered the elevator, and he punched the code for their destination. Then, as they descended, he added, changing the subject: “We’ll probably be made to wait a bit until Tallon’s permission goes through. Hopefully, he’ll notify the guards we’re okay to enter while we head over there.”

“I’m sure he did,” Ahsoka said. Keeping her tone calm and gentle, she continued, “I know you’re upset. Believe me, I am too, but it isn’t wise to confront Maul with anger. Users of the Dark Side are fueled by strong emotions. And you’ve seen how easily he’s able to infiltrate your mind. Keep cool and alert.”

“Says the person who Force-slammed his containment chair into a wall,” Sinjir quipped sarcastically.

The former Padawan grimaced. “I may not be the best person to dole out advice, huh?” she asked. “Maul just really seems to know what buttons to push.”

They did end up waiting for a few minutes inside the elevator while the detention block personnel contacted Admiral Tallon. Apparently, he hadn’t had the chance to contact them beforehand, but Ahsoka understood he was exceedingly busy with the droids’ current mission. While they stood by, the Togruta turned to the advisor and said quietly, “We also need to entertain the possibility that Maul had nothing to do with this.”

Sinjir turned to her and gawked incredulously. “You can’t possibly believe that!” he finally said with a shake of his head. “Ahsoka – the bastard practically boasted about it! He told me this was a demonstration from the Sith, remember?”

She sighed. “I’ve come to doubt anything that comes out of that cretin’s mouth,” she said simply. She didn’t know how to express to the man that Obi-Wan’s words kept nagging at her psyche. He wouldn’t understand.

“Listen, Ahsoka, I know you’re fond of the old rat, but –”

“Whoa, there! I’m what now?”

“You tried to tell me about it earlier, mentioned how you felt bad because you unleashed him or whatever during Order 66, but come on, we know there’s more to it than that.”

“There really isn’t,” she said crossly.

“Deny it all you want,” Velus said, shrugging. “Don’t forget: I was trained to see these things, to study people’s body language. And yours, well, it practically screams concern. Annoyance and anger, too, when you’re around him. Mistrust. But I think you see him as some type of kin, or an equal. He may be obsessed with your death, but I feel there’s an attachment on your end, too. Tell me you weren’t happy to see him again on Tatooine.”

“I wasn’t happy…” Ahsoka protested as the elevator doors finally opened, but she knew the man had a point. Relief was probably a better word to describe it, once she got past the initial shock. She’d found someone else! Someone like her, from her past, at that. Someone like… like… an equal. Damn it, Sinjir! Guy was sharp, she couldn’t argue that. This was not the first time that day he had forced her to self-reflect.

“Don’t let your feelings warp your perception of the bastard,” Velus said as they began walking down the hall accompanied by the same pair of soldiers from before. He tapped the side of his temple while looking at her significantly. “Keep cool and alert, she said.”

The Togruta allowed herself a small laugh. “Okay, okay! I got it.”

“He’s as bad as they come.”

As they reached the end of the long hallway and got to the assigned cell, Ahsoka could see that the Zabrak was now fully awake. He was still strapped to the restraining chair, which had been positioned facing out in the center of the room. He looked stiff and uncomfortable sitting there, unable to move much at all. However, he managed to grin at both her and Velus as they approached. “Ah, the Dream Team has returned,” he called out to them derisively. “Judging by your expressions, I take it you have unwrapped your presents?”

“Filthy monster,” Sinjir spat, glaring daggers at the Dathomirian. “You’re truly sick.”

“Do you understand now, boy?” Maul asked in his smooth cadence. “Do you honestly think there is anything in your arsenal that could ever come close to inflicting the amount of torment those three felt as life was ripped from their bodies? Can you ever do to me what was done to the Tusken? Now that you have seen their cadavers twisted and mangled beyond recognition, now do you understand the might and cruelty of the Dark Side? Do you know how they begged? Begged and wept and pleaded for mercy as their bodies bloomed like flowers of death, their blood soaking the desert sands –”

“Stop!” Sinjir yelled, covering his ears with both fists. “Shut the fuck up, you disgusting animal!”

Ahsoka had kept her expression guarded up until that point, wrapping her Life Force about herself tightly, maintaining a firm control over her emotions in order to quell any outburst that might threaten to come over her. She had wanted to maintain the hope that Maul and his kyber had not been the cause of whatever was afflicting the Tusken corpses, but that seemed less and less likely the more she listened to him taunt Velus. At the man’s reaction, the Nightbrother laughed. He seemed to be enjoying himself very much. She was sure he was no longer bored, anyway.

“Why?” she asked now, speaking directly to Maul. She felt so at a loss. Cutting his laughter short, he turned his gaze upon her, a slightly puzzled look coming over his face. “Why did you do it?” the Togruta insisted, her voice pained. “What did those Tusken do to you? What could they have possibly done to deserve that end? Answer me, damnit!”

Maul observed her thoughtfully for a moment before he replied. When he finally did, Ahsoka heard just the tiniest hint of sadness in his voice, but perhaps Velus was right, and it was merely her own emotional state tainting her perspective. “They crossed my path,” the Zabrak said quietly. He sighed and closed his eyes, as though ruminating over something. “And now,” he added, “so have you.”

The ex-spy felt the blood run cold in her veins, turning her conflicted emotions to ice. Staring down her foe, she stepped up to the energy shielding separating them, close enough to make the proximity alarm buzz louder in warning. She paid it no heed.

“Listen up, scumbag,” she hissed, “and commit my words to memory: I am not afraid of your idle threats. I will find a way to stop you and your kyber. If it kills me, so be it, but I’ll make sure you come along for the ride.”

The Zabrak grinned, a dangerous glint in his golden eyes. “You’re going to need that strength of spirit, Lady Tano,” he replied. “You do not yet understand what is to come.”

“Bring it, asshole,” she seethed, baring her fangs.

Sinjir walked up behind her and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, calling her attention back to him. “I think we’ve heard enough,” he murmured. His voice sounded heavy, tired. Defeated. Nowhere near the sarcastic wit or crisp attitude that he had so far demonstrated. It was enough of a stark change to make the Togruta step back and shift her focus away from Maul. She wanted to ask Velus if he was alright, but the man was already walking away from her, stopping only to speak quietly to the guards. After a few seconds of conversation with them, Sinjir motioned for her to follow him and headed back towards the elevator. Glaring one final time at the imprisoned Dathomirian, Ahsoka began to walk after Sinjir without another word.

“By the way,” the Zabrak called out to her, his voice taking on its usual mocking tone, “I will be needing them back.” Ahsoka paused and glanced over her shoulder, an eye-ridge lifted questioningly. “My hearts, I mean.”

This time, the former Padawan didn’t allow her anger to surface. Instead, she walked back over to the cell and stared at the Nightbrother coolly. It was enough to make him uneasy, she saw with satisfaction, for he squirmed a bit in his seat. “Don’t worry,” she said coldly, keeping her tone as steady as her gaze. “When the New Republic’s done with you, I’ll come back here personally and shove them up your exhaust port.”

She didn’t wait around for a reply from him, although her montrals still registered his quiet chuckle as she walked away. The sound bounced around inside her head, sent a shudder of revulsion down her spine. How can he derive amusement from any of this? she wondered. Sinjir is right. Maul really is a sick monster.

She almost ended up walking right into Sinjir as he waited for her at the elevator doors. “Mon and Sondiv will be meeting us outside the entrance, where we’ll take the HL back to the dacha,” he informed her. He had resorted back to his brisk, no-nonsense attitude, but his demeanor was a bit more dimmed than usual. Ahsoka was sure something was really bothering him, but he didn’t know how to express it. Or perhaps he just wasn’t comfortable enough to share his vulnerabilities around her. She didn’t blame him. After all, they’d only just met in person that same day. Still, as they stepped inside the lift, the Togruta ventured to ask: “How are you holding up? Maul really shook you up this time, didn’t he? I’m sorry. Perhaps I should have spoken to him alone.”

Sinjir shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s just…” he sighed in frustration, running his hand through his thick, dark hair. “It’s been a while, I suppose, since I’ve witnessed true evil. Not even during my training at the Viper’s Nest, and mind you, I was tortured there.”

The former Padawan said nothing, allowing her companion to speak freely. Instead, she nodded encouragingly. “I’m from Sevenmoon, by the way,” he said abruptly. “Don’t blame you if you don’t know where that is. Whoever named things back home had no imagination.”

Ahsoka smiled. “It’s part of the Velusian system, sure,” she said. At Sinjir’s slightly surprised reaction, the Togruta shrugged. “It’s not as obscure as you think. Especially since negotiations for the Empire’s surrender were hashed out in Velusia a few years back. Were you there at that time?”

“No,” the man replied. “I was in another star system completely, hunting down Imperial fugitives. What I would have been, had I not deserted my post. I shouldn’t be too surprised you know about Velusia’s significance, though Mon kept that meeting with Amedda quiet until after the Concordance was signed.” He sighed. “Anyway, my home is the last moon numbered by the hicks populating the other rocks orbiting Velumia. Heck, even the Vilimians had the sense to name all their moons, and they have thirteen to deal with! Not that it matters, in the end. To the Empire, I suppose we were all only numbers, all worthless hicks, fodder for their machine.”

The ex-Jedi listened attentively. She couldn’t understand what Sinjir’s current topic had to do with Maul or the Tusken, but she could tell the man was likely meandering in his conversation because what he was thinking about was too distressing for him to address outright.

“Velusia is by far the most beautiful of the planets in that system, and the only habitable world, in fact. Lavender skies and crystalline oceans, offset by random, rocky islets with soil as black as tar. My grandmother took me to visit there once, as a child. She explained that our family name came from the sun, and Velusia was named after it as well, because it was the pride of our star system.”

By now, the elevator had reached its destination, and Ahsoka and Sinjir walked out into the vast lobby. Sinjir continued their conversation quietly as they walked. “That was the first time I ever saw another sentient non-Human species. I found the Aquar mesmerizing. All those glittery scales, hair as green as seaweed, large eyes. I thought they looked thoughtful and wise. They looked so different from anyone I’d met, yet there was a familiarity about them that I couldn’t deny. My grandmother told me they evolved from Humankind, but I don’t know if that’s true.”

Stepping outside, the Togruta realized the sun was quickly setting, casting everything in a golden-orange glow. The armored hovervan was waiting for them, but there was no sign of the chancellor or her secondary advisor yet. Ahsoka assumed they were busy, as well as the admiral, making sure the Tusken corpses and her shuttle were kept properly quarantined in order to avoid risk of contagion. Sinjir stopped and stared at the HL-38, his expression dark despite the ambient light.

“When the Empire took over the Velusian system, they essentially enslaved the Aquar,” he said. “They came to be treated as second-class citizens on their own planet, forced to ravage their oceans for its underwater ores and marine life. They even stopped calling themselves Aquar in public, replacing the term with simply ‘Velusians.’ I suppose they thought it was a more inclusive term, and that Humans would be more accepting of them. They began removing the webbing between their fingers through cosmetic surgery. Some dyed their hair black or brown in order to blend in with the Imperial presence that had come to their world. They would cover up as much as they could, so people couldn’t see their scales. It was sad. It was disgusting. And you know what? It didn’t work.

"When the Alliance to Restore the Republic began to gain power in earnest, many Velusians were killed, accused of sympathizing with the Rebels. They were tortured – in public, mind you, in front of jeering crowds of Humans and near-Humans alike – by Stormtroopers equipped with riot-control batons or even electro-whips. He asked me,” – the former Padawan didn’t have to wonder who Sinjir was referring to – “if I’d ever seen evil capable of inflicting the kind of torment that would make someone writhe like a helpless animal, mindless with pain. I have. I was a part of that system for many years, Ahsoka. I once even broke a poor bloke’s finger because he was teaching himself the Ithorian language. If I hadn’t done that, his punishment would have been far worse, sure, but that doesn’t mean that what I did was right. The Empire was systematically cruel. It was evil because the one who founded it was pure malice. I may not know anything about the Force, or believe in it much, really, but I do know evil. It was in the Emperor’s eyes, in the actions he expected of us, his subordinates. And it was prevalent in Vader, his enforcer. This guy, Maul, he is touched by that malevolence as well. There is no question in my mind that he was apprenticed to Palpatine. He’s as sinister as the Emperor was. The way he spoke just now, the way he described what he did – he reminded me so much of Palpatine. It makes me want to hurl that caf we had earlier. Only reason I’m fighting to keep it in is because it tasted really bad on the way down. I don’t want to taste whatever comes back up.”

Not really knowing what to say to that entire outburst – this was obviously something that Sinjir had carried with him for years – Ahsoka simply turned to him and wrapped her arms around him. It was surprisingly not as awkward as she’d thought it’d be, and Sinjir actually returned the gesture, leaning a bit into her and allowing himself to rest his head against her lek. When the Togruta rubbed at his back soothingly, the man shuddered, and she heard him choke back a bit. “That damn brew’s really trying to make its way back out,” he muttered as he pulled away from her, but Ahsoka noticed the shine in his eyes as he turned his back to her and tried to blink back unshed tears.

Before the situation could become uncomfortable, they noticed Mon Mothma and Sondiv approaching them, escorted by the same two soldiers who had transported them to the citadel. All were in a somber mood, and aside from simple greetings, they all boarded the transport in relative silence. The ride back was just as gloomy, with everyone lost in their own thoughts. Ahsoka didn’t even take much notice of how long the trip took.

The sky was noticeably darker when they reached the dacha, and Lieda was waiting for them with anxious eyes and comforting embraces. Soon afterward, both advisors took their leave, heading back into the capital where they lived in apartments. Sinjir declined the offer from the Defense Fleet soldiers in having them drive him into the city, with Sondiv insisting that he would take his companion home instead. “He just wants to show off his JG-10,” Velus said fondly with a roll of his eyes. Before the two men left, Ahsoka took Sinjir aside to speak with him by the front entrance. Squeezing both his hands firmly, she looked him squarely in the eyes and said, “Tonight, when you get home, I want you to cuddle with your husband. And no alcohol.”

“Is this one of those famous Jedi mind-tricks I’ve heard about?” Sinjir asked with a small grin.

“I’m not sure one would work on you; you’re too clever for your own good,” she said, returning the smile. “But I’ll try one if I have to.”

“No need,” the man told her, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. “I solemnly swear to not get plastered. And to make out with Conder.”

Ahsoka laughed. “I sure hope that’s your husband’s name,” she called out as Sinjir walked off the porch and towards Sondiv, who was already waiting for his companion in a sleek, glossy luxury landspeeder. Velus merely shrugged and winked, then slid into the passenger side of the vehicle. Both he and Sondiv waved at her as the hovercraft sped off.

After she went back inside, she declined the chancellor’s offer for dinner, asking if instead she could take some tea in her room so she could begin to type up the summary report the High Command would require the following morning.

“I nearly forgot about that,” Mon Mothma said with a heavy sigh. “Oh, my dear, I feel so sorry for asking that of you to begin with. Today has simply been horrendously taxing on all of us, and I’m assuming especially more so for you.”

“It really is no trouble, Madam,” she replied. “I will treat it as a meditative exercise. It will certainly help me clear my mind of unnecessary emotional burden.”

Therefore, after Lieda took a word-processing datapad to her room, accompanied by the NL-6 droid she had referred to previously as Nellie, who carried a tray with tea and biscuits, Ahsoka sat down to work. She finished much sooner than she had expected, purposefully keeping any opinions out of the writing. She also didn’t mention the visions she’d received through the Force, as she felt it best to stick to actual events. If need be, she would discuss them with Luke at a later time. He was the only one who could help her understand their meaning a bit better, in any case.

Once she was done, she removed her headdress and her belt – lightsabers and all – and placed them on the wooden table beside the bed. She picked out the simplest nightdress from the wardrobe Lieda had shown her before leaving the room and headed for the refresher. She hadn’t used the toilet since she’d arrived on Chandrila and – even though she hadn’t eaten much all day – needed to relieve herself. She also made use of the washing station, although that may not have been the appropriate word for the amenities. There were both a shower stall and a soaking tub, as well as a separate drying station. Ahsoka chose to forgo the bath, for she was unused to such things, and felt it unnecessary opulence. Even the shower stall was much too large and almost too complicated for her to operate: with an array of buttons and levers for various temperatures, water pressure and even therapeutic hydro-massages. There was even an oral hygiene station stocked with prepackaged, disposable instruments installed in the shower, which the Togruta was grateful to use.

She didn’t take long to wash up, and after she had dried off completely, using both the automatic fans of the drying station as well as soft towels provided to dab sensitive areas and places the warm gusts of air couldn’t get to, such as under her lekku, Ahsoka slipped the sleeping gown on. The fabric was made of soft plant fibers and felt light and airy upon her skin. She quickly picked her dirty clothes from off the floor and folded them neatly on a small table by the door. The towels she hung on hooks right above this table, allowing them to dry.

With all her tasks done for the day, she returned to the bedroom that had once belonged to another Togruta and, switching off the lights, sank into the bed, trying to imagine the type of person Auxi Kray Korbin had been. What would she have thought of what was occurring now? How would she have advised the chancellor to proceed regarding Maul? Ahsoka wished she had someone wise to talk to at the moment. Someone who could offer comfort and guidance, but she doubted there was anyone she could turn to just then. She didn’t even feel like trying to contact Obi-Wan. She didn’t blame the Jedi Master for what had happened since she’d listened to his advice and gone to Tatooine, but his evasive words as well as the manner in which he had referred to the Zabrak the last time they spoke was annoying her. How, how could Obi-Wan possibly feel there had been a point to honoring anything about Maul? How could he still claim the Dathomirian was no longer a Sith? The damn title of Darth didn’t matter if he was still as steeped in the Dark Side as ever. Maul still acted like a Sith Lord. That much was evident to her after seeing those poor, wretched Tusken. Remembering Master Kenobi’s words of compassion towards his foe made the Togruta bristle. Did he not know what the Zabrak was capable of? How could he not? He had likely been on the receiving end of Maul’s wrathful machinations more so than anyone else. Yet still he had felt sympathy for him, and she realized she was upset because she had been eager to believe Obi-Wan’s words. So ready to find some form of good in the Nightbrother. She briefly wondered if, wherever he was, Obi-Wan was disappointed, too.

Sighing, she reached for the belt on her dresser and unclipped her sabers from it. She pulled the hilts up to her chest and cradled them gently in her hands, allowing the kyber crystals within to feel her pain and sorrow. She could always be herself with them, at least. As she did whenever she was upset, Ahsoka slid both her weapons under her pillow before lying down and slipping under the covers. She turned on her side, her heart feeling heavy.

She briefly thought of Sinjir Velus, hoped he had found reassurance in the arms of his husband. Mon Mothma still had her daughter, which made Ahsoka glad. Sondiv, too, had a family, she assumed. Everyone had had a hard day, but they had someone to turn to and share their problems with, alleviating their incumbrances. As her mind began to wander, her last thoughts were of Maul, the hate-filled renegade Dark Sider who had nothing save for his lust for power and his rage. He was alone in that cell, just as she was alone in a room meant for someone else. Neither of them had a home, neither had family. She didn’t want to end up like him.

I have Rex, she told herself, although she knew that she shouldn’t hitch her sense of security on a single person. Attachments were dangerous, after all. She tried to recenter her perspective and thought instead: I have friends, people who care for me. And I have the Force. The Force is with me, so I have no fear. She didn’t quite believe that last part, so she made herself repeat it aloud: “I fear nothing,” she whispered, “because all is as the Force wills it.”

Her words sounded hollow and devoid of truth, even to her own montrals. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she curled up into herself, ending up in the fetal position. As a last resort to keep her despair at bay, she pushed her hands under her pillow and grasped her weapons. Her kyber, sensing her uncertainty, instantly began a soft song in a hum only she could hear. She did have someone to share her burden with after all. The ex-Jedi finally drifted off to sleep, with the gentle energy of the kyber’s light soothing her tired spirit.

Chapter Text

The Togruta awoke before the sunrise without the need of an alarm. Outside, she could hear birds begin their soft chirping and fluttering in anticipation of a new day. She wished she could feel as hopeful as they sounded. She hadn’t rested well the night before, dreams of tangled thorns and splattered blood torturing her sleep. The quiet chuckle of the Nightbrother haunting her memories. She knew that everyone else in the house was likely still asleep, that she had a while yet to remain in the bed, warm under the covers. However, she found the idea rather pointless; she could not relax.

She got out of bed and did some stretching exercises to get the stiffness out of her body. Ahsoka had seemingly had such a fitful night, that she had kept her muscles tense while she slept, curled up into herself. Even her lekku felt sore. They twitched uncomfortably now as she rolled her shoulders and tugged on them lightly, getting the blood flowing back into them. Afterwards, she made her way back to the refresher and used the commode again, following up with another toothbrushing and washing her face. The cold water felt good on her skin and finished waking her up. Now that she was fully alert, she returned to the room and switched the lights on, walking over to the wooden dresser and opening the doors wide.

Auxi Kray Korbin’s wardrobe was… substantial, to say the least. Not as vast and regal as her friend Padmé Amidala’s, but much larger than Ahsoka’s own, and with a greater array of styles and colors. Most of them were definitely traditional attire from Shili, embroidered with ornate metal beads and pearls, as well as accented with adornments of animal bones and teeth. The clinking sound which the robes and tunics made as Ahsoka ran her hands over them brought to mind the warm eyes and gentle hands of a grandmother she’d had in another life, long ago, before the Jedi. It made her a little sad that she could no longer remember the old matriarch’s face.

There were long gowns and skirts that when worn, she was sure would trail along the floor, and some that had colorful tassels along the hem that were meant to imitate turu-grass. Still more of the other garments were lined with fur, and there was a large assortment of leather Togruta sashes, more than what the former Padawan knew what to do with.

What there wasn’t much of were leggings, which Ahsoka lamented, as it was her preferred attire. However, after some extensive rummaging, she was able to find a pair of loose-fitting, calf-length pants made of soft, pale-yellow fabric. She combined these with a spring green tunic made of what appeared to be Bardottan silk. This garment had a matching frock with belled sleeves that was open at the front and reached down to the floor, allowing full view of the chemise beneath. The over-dress was made of that same type of silk as well as satin in a darker forest green color. Both the tunic and dress were heavily embroidered with golden thread, complimenting the light yellow of the pants.  On her feet she wore simple, dark brown, leather moccasins (well, as simple as Auxi Korbin had worn) that came up to just past her ankles and were embroidered with a similar pattern as the over-dress. They were, surprisingly, a near-perfect fit. Once Ahsoka got the entire getup on, she felt awkward and stuffy, but it was the simplest outfit she managed to put together.

She completed the ensemble by wearing a headdress made of polished mythra which came with lekku bracers and a woven netting that draped over her head-tails. It even had a matching belt, to which she was able to attach her lightsabers. She had considered wearing nothing on her head at all, or perhaps the original headdress she had been wearing the day before, but when she tried both options, she felt the look clashed horribly in either instance.

Now fully dressed (over dressed, in her opinion), Ahsoka took up the datapad and looked over the report, making sure it had been sent to the appropriate list of contacts, which she had been provided by the chancellor the night before. Seeing that everything was in order, she decided to head down to the first floor, perhaps take a walk beside the lake to calm her frayed nerves. However, once she made it to the living room, she was surprised to find the chancellor already there, sitting quietly and going over information on a handheld datapad. Nellie, the service droid, stood by the armrest of the lounger where Mon Mothma sat, holding a platter with a thermal steeping pot and delicate, buttery pastries perched on top. Both the Chandrilan and her automaton servant turned in her direction as Ahsoka lingered in the doorway.

“Ahsoka, you look lovely!” Mon Mothma said, beaming at her. The older woman’s eyes misted over slightly as she gazed at the Togruta’s choice of outfit. “I never thought those clothes would see the light of day again. That top was one of Auxi’s favorites, although I don’t recall ever seeing her wearing those pants. She preferred long skirts, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. She felt they looked more regal, which she claimed was warranted for a person of her position. She didn’t want to look shabby standing at my side.” The woman sighed. “She felt that her looking her best would help elevate my own status somehow.” The chancellor shook her head with a nostalgic smile, then patted the seat next to her. “But please, do sit with me. I was just going over the report you sent last night. The High Command received it, and informed me this morning that with this information, formal charges will be brought upon Darth Maul today.”

Ahsoka gulped. Hearing Maul’s name disconcerted her, more so when his Sith title was added in. She knew the consequences for his actions on the Tusken would be dire, understood that he deserved whatever the New Republic doled out as punishment, yet she was worried. How would it all affect the kyber? Would Maul still be able to control them from a distance, perhaps use them to cause havoc? Moreover, would he be able to repeat what he’d done to the Sand People by channeling the Dark Side through the bled crystals? In her haste to follow Velus the day before to make sure he was alright, Ahsoka had not taken the opportunity to demand of the Zabrak how exactly he had inflicted such horrors upon the felled warriors. Numbly, she walked over to the couch and perched at the edge of the seat, her body unable – or unwilling – to unwind.

Mon Mothma motioned for Nellie to bring the tray over to the Togruta. Obediently, the droid did so in a smooth, poised manner, producing a spare cup from an internal compartment and pouring some of the steaming liquid into it and handing it to Ahsoka – who took it politely – all the while still balancing the platter in one hand. Although she didn’t have much of an appetite, the former Padawan selected a small, triangular pastry from the offered pile, not wanting to offend either the chancellor or the automaton. Taking the pastie in a linen napkin, she nibbled at one corner of it and marveled at the light, crisp, buttery texture which almost immediately began to dissolve in her mouth, leaving behind a creamy, zesty aftertaste. When paired with a sip of the tea from her cup, the effect washed wonderfully down her throat and eased the knot in her stomach. With a soft sigh, Ahsoka allowed herself to sink into the velveted cushions of the sofa.

“Thank you, Madam, Nellie,” she said, addressing both with a polite nod. Nellie returned the gesture – another smooth motion. “A pleasure to serve our guest,” the droid replied, returning to her place beside the chancellor. Her voice was very feminine and pleasant, with warm undertones not common in the voice-boxes of most droids.

“I know this has been a very stressful time for you, my dear,” Mon Mothma said quietly. “Rest assured, however: justice will be carried out. All of this will be over soon.”

Ahsoka said nothing, busying herself with her tea and pastry instead. How many times in the past week plus had she told herself the same thing? Things will be over soon. Only to be proven wrong all those times? Whether Maul at long last saw consequences for his heinous actions didn’t solve her original problem with the kyber crystals. It almost seemed bizarre to her now, after all that had occurred, to remind herself that all she had gone to Tatooine for had been to recover a dangerous artefact. It all seemed so long ago, that fateful walk into her sleeping quarters and seeing Obi-Wan, who delivered his warning. Her life had taken such a turn since then. The chancellor was right: she was stressed. Exhausted too, because of it, but also – and it took considerable effort to admit this – she felt better somehow, more in-tune with the Force. As if, despite her crippling loneliness and anguish, this was where she was meant to be in that moment. This was what she was meant to be doing. It was such a contradicting sensation, that she found it best to keep quiet. No use trying to explain that to anyone when she didn’t really understand her feelings herself.

The Togruta and the Chandrilan spent the following hour in each other’s company, quietly sipping their tea and discussing little. With the blushing sunrise Lieda joined them, her gentle aura adding to the cozy ambience of the room. Ahsoka enjoyed sitting with the two women, appreciating the glimpse into what appeared to be a peaceful and loving homelife. She made a conscious effort to soak the ambience in, knowing that what was to come would be anything but pleasant.

The three shared breakfast together – Mon Mothma making sure that Ahsoka ate properly this time – before Nellie entered the dining room to let them know that the Defense Fleet had sent another armored vehicle for them, in order to take them back to headquarters. The two advisors, they were informed by the soldiers escorting them, would meet them at the citadel. Lieda hugged both her mother and Ahsoka before they left, making the chancellor promise to contact her at her office in the capitol once things became resolved.

Once back at the military base, Mon Mothma and Ahsoka were escorted to an office similar to the one they’d been in the day before. The seating configuration, however, was different, with ten hover-chairs lined up along one side of a long marble-topped rectangular table, facing the doorway. Three extra chairs had been brought in and placed along one of the walls, perpendicular to the others, and discreetly out of the way. Adar Tallon, Sondiv and Sinjir were already there, standing by the table, steaming mugs of caf – the HQ’s own horrid special blend, from what the Togruta could smell – in their hands. Before eight of the empty chairs, holo-projectors were placed before the seats, all active. One only, placed at the far end, showed a hovering placard over the empty seat which read ‘Present’ in Aurebesh – presumably Si-Flachitt’s spot – and another was already transmitting the image of Ahsoka’s good friend, Hera Syndulla, onto one of the seats. The Twi’lek appeared cross and apprehensive. Ahsoka couldn’t blame her. There was bad history and bad blood between her and the renegade Zabrak they were all meeting over. Before the long table, floating in the center of the room, was a spherical holo-recorder – currently also activated – which Ahsoka was certain was used to transmit their images to the others in their respective locations.

“Early, as always,” Admiral Tallon remarked as the chancellor and the former Padawan walked in. “The others will be joining us shortly.”

“Solo is running fashionably late, as usual,” Hera remarked from her place, her lekku twitching irately. “Or so he said.”

“Well, at least he’s letting us know in advance this time,” a voice warbled over another one of the projectors as the image of a Mon Calamari in formal military uniform appeared in one of the seats. Ahsoka smiled at Admiral Gial Ackbar. It had been a while since she had seen his face. Just like Adar Tallon, the Fleet Admiral and previous leader of the Rebellion was due to retire soon.

“Well, we only have a few minutes more, so let’s all take our seats,” Admiral Tallon encouraged, heading over to his position at the table and sitting down. Mon Mothma took the spot beside him, ending up relatively at the center of the seating arrangement, with both admirals on either side of her. Sondiv led Ahsoka to one of the three chairs placed off to the side, where Sinjir Velus had already made himself comfortable. The ex-spy took the seat closest to the doorway; the entire setup felt claustrophobic to her (the clothes weren’t helping any, either), and she wanted to be among the first out of that room when the meeting was over.

About two minutes before 0800, the remaining holoprojectors began to crackle with sound and light as the missing members of the New Republic High Command joined the meeting: Admiral Ho’ror’te, Generals Airen Cracken, Yda Ria, and Luke Skywalker. As promised, General Han Solo’s seat remained vacant and his holoprojector merely kept blinking the ready signal.

Ahsoka’s heart leapt in her chest at the sight of her friend and fellow Force-user. Although Luke was a relatively new acquaintance of hers compared to the others, his presence at the gathering brought along a sense of security and relief for the Togruta. He reminded her much of both his parents: strong, wise beyond his years, compassionate, yet no one’s fool. He was as confident and brave as his father; from his mother, he inherited his love of democratic peace and a strong sense of justice. She smiled affectionately at him when she saw him, and when their eyes met – albeit through holographic form – Luke’s eyes crinkled and he grinned at her in that boyish way that served to remind her of how very young he still was, despite his overwhelming responsibilities within the new government, and in spite of his immense power in the Force. Scarcely over thirty, and already a Jedi Master and founder of a new Order. Ahsoka was so proud.

She worried about him, too. She couldn’t bear to think of how Maul’s toxic aura could affect the young man. She wanted the Zabrak nowhere near him, or his sister. She had no words to describe how precious Anakin’s children were to her. Not only were they bright beacons in the galaxy – all the more dazzling when they were together: they seemed to balance the Force just by inhabiting the same space – but they were, along with Rex, the closest thing the former Jedi had to a family. She’d be damned if she ever let Maul or any other dark, twisted being harm them.

Once all eight present leaders of the High Command were officially accounted for, they briefly discussed Ahsoka’s report: mainly to ensure all had received and understood the gravity of the situation, and proper action taken accordingly.

“Time is of the essence,” Admiral Ackbar stated, looking around at them all. “We know Darth Maul is resourceful. He has been evading capture since the time of the Clone Wars. His actions and dealings within the criminal underground have often resulted in the pain and detriment of dozens of star systems. Now that we have him in custody at last, we cannot allow him to slip through our grasp. Adar already told us of how he’s attempting to use any legal loopholes to evade consequences with the law. This is why we must act quickly. I propose we handle this matter internally through a military tribunal. I know this is not your preferred choice of action, Madam Chancellor,” he added before Mon Mothma began to protest, “but now you have seen the atrocities this monster is capable of. A military process will be quicker, and we will be able to bypass some of the Rights of Sentience afforded to galactic civilians if he is tried as a military terrorist threat.”

At this, the Chandrilan shook her head, an indignant blush overtaking her porcelain features. “Admiral, I must –”

“Object?” interrupted Airen Cracken, turning his steely gaze onto the woman. “Despite the evidence presented to us? What more do you need to see, Mon? More of those grotesque sculptures of death? Because he will provide them, I assure you.”

“I say we bypass the entire political theatre and put the bastard before a firing squad,” grumbled Hera to uncomfortable silence. “We know it’s what he deserves.” Despite the tension in the room, no one objected to the Twi’lek’s comment.

“Let’s also not let our personal opinions get the better of us,” warned Tallon, turning to face Hera. “Your input is valuable in this case, General Syndulla, as you’re one of the few among us who have dealt with this criminal firsthand. However – and though I understand your feelings are justified – try to keep a level head. The decisions we make here determine how our new government is seen by the rest of the galaxy.”

“Furthermore, if you wish to try the criminal Darth Maul as a terrorist threat, we will need more proof than what we have currently,” Mon Mothma said to the gathered military leaders.

“What do you think of all of this, Skywalker?” General Cracken asked Luke. “You’ve kept pretty mum about this. Our culprit is a Force user. That’s right up your alley.”

The young Jedi leaned back in his seat, his features pensive. “To begin with, I’d say the firing squad option is out of the question.”

“I know the Jedi are altruistic by nature,” Ho’ror’te mused, “but I wouldn’t put the death penalty off the table just yet.”

“You misunderstand,” Luke clarified. “It’s not that I have qualms about ending his life. I would prefer to avoid doling out death as punishment as a general rule, of course, but I understand that sometimes, in order to safeguard many more lives, the life of one individual must be extinguished. However, in this case, I think Darth Maul is more valuable to us alive.” With that, he looked meaningfully over at Airen Cracken, who nodded silently. Before anyone could ask for a clarification, the man added, “Besides, as a Force-user, I can attest that a firing squad simply won’t work. And although I wasn’t too familiar with who Darth Maul was until fairly recently, from what I have learned of his life these past few months, he tends to survive situations no one else would. I have never met him, but I can feel the Force is strong within him. As unfortunate as that may be.”

Ahsoka’s brow shot up in surprise. She hadn’t been aware that Luke had been looking into Maul’s past. In the last few months? Why hadn’t he told her? Surely, he knew she’d had past encounters with the former Sith Lord. He was friendly with Hera, and Ahsoka was certain the Twi’lek general would have made mention of it. She felt a bit slighted but decided to push past it for the moment. She could always speak to Luke about it privately at a later time. She also knew better than to interrupt. On their way to the citadel, Mon Mothma had quietly reminded the former Padawan that she was to be present at the meeting as a formality only, as a guest and possible witness, if anything regarding her report required clarification. She was not to be involved in the decision-making process.

“In either case, we have drafted out formal charges based on the evidence we currently have, thanks to Agent Fulcrum,” Admiral Ackbar said, nodding in the Togruta’s direction. “For now, those will have to suffice. Have the suspect brought in so the charges may be read to him, as is his right. Once he makes his plea, we will be able to determine whether to proceed civilly or militarily.”

Ahsoka swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in her throat. Her palms were suddenly sweaty. For some reason, she hadn’t thought the Zabrak would be brought before the High Command, although she knew protocol demanded it. As he had reminded Semler Capel the day before, if he wasn’t properly charged with anything after a standard day, he would be allowed to go free. The ex-Jedi really didn’t want to see him again any time soon. That was beyond her control now, it seemed.

Adar Tallon pressed a button on his handheld datapad, presumably sending the order to have Maul summoned. It was a scant few minutes that went by before the entrance opened and Warrant Officer Semler Capel walked in – a bit pale, but stony-faced – followed by two DF soldiers who were escorting the Dathomirian, still bound to his restraining hover-chair. As soon as they situated the Zabrak in the center of the room, the two guards made a prompt exit.

“Brave girl,” Sinjir murmured at Ahsoka’s right hand side, cocking an eyebrow in the direction of the military woman.

Maul’s golden orbs swept lazily over the room, his expression aloof, but once he caught sight of the Togruta, he instantly perked up. It took all of Ahsoka’s willpower not to squirm under his gaze as he took his time to stare at her, scrutinizing her attire from bottom to top. When he finally stopped his ogling, he met her eyes with his own, a dangerous gleam dancing within them. He grinned crookedly at her and tilted his head slightly in a mocking obeisance.

“You look mesmerizingly regal this morning, Lady Tano,” he called out to her, his sneer widening. “A true dignitary. I am flattered. This is the second time you dress up for me. I must say, I like this outfit better than your secret agent attire.”

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes into the most disdainful glare she could muster. “I do nothing for your sake,” she bit out acidly through clenched teeth, but her lekku were flashing their stripes more darkly than before. Her response only received a low chuckle from the Zabrak in return. Damn him!

“Your attention should be geared towards the front, criminal,” Mon Mothma cut in. Ahsoka was surprised by the iciness in the Chandrilan’s voice. The woman meant business.

Maul turned to the chancellor casually, his expression becoming grave. His eyes, however, remained contemptuous and mocking. “Of course, I apologize,” he jeered. “Where are my manners? Good morning. You look lovely as well, Madam Mothma. Still playing politics, I see.”

The Chandrilan’s ivory skin flushed a bit as well, and Ahsoka saw the woman’s eyes flash in anger, but she was saved from responding by Hera, who growled from her place three seats over, “I’m growing tired of hearing this imbecile ridicule those I respect. Can we gag him?”

“Unfortunately, the suspect needs to be able to speak in order to enter a plea after the charges are read,” Officer Capel replied. She was standing at rest, hands clasped tightly behind her back. Her job must have been exceedingly stressful, Ahsoka mused. Sinjir was right: it was brave of her to have agreed to continue to work with the Nightbrother. Stars only knew the difficult time he must have given her since before they arrived at the impromptu meeting.

“Ah, Hera Syndulla,” the Dathomirian said, his smooth tenor taking on a hard edge that was impossible to ignore. “I would offer you a good morning as well, except I do not know what time of day it is wherever you are currently… and frankly, I have never wished good things for you before, so why start now?”

“You have been brought here, Zabrak, in order to receive formal charges for your crimes, not to partake in repartee with the panel,” Admiral Ackbar said sternly. “You may speak only when spoken to directly, and after the charges have been made, to enter your plea. Until then, any other words out of your mouth will be added to your criminal record as disruption of a legal procedure.”

“Understood, Mon Calamari,” Maul replied with a scornful smirk.

Ahsoka felt her stomach clench tightly into a knot. Things were not starting well, and she did not feel they would get better anytime soon.

“Now, then, let us begin the procedure,” Adar Tallon stated, bringing up his datapad before him. “Protocol dictates the charges can be read by Chancellor Mothma, although she has allowed High Command to carry out this task instead. Before we begin, do you have any questions about the proceedings at all?”

“Questions relevant to the proceedings only, if you please,” Admiral Ackbar clarified.

Maul glanced up at Semler Capel, who uneasily cleared her throat and said, “I want to remind the panel that according to Article 527 of the NRCC, an individual cannot be accused of crimes committed under Imperial rule, as it bypasses statutory limitations. Furthermore, according to the Imperial Instruments of Surrender,” the woman winced as she said the words, obviously disgusted with herself, “civilian functionaries active during Imperial rule were to be granted conditional pardons. Therefore, any accusations brought forth today must only pertain to current evidence provided.”

“I see you have done your homework, Officer Capel,” Adar Tallon said, his expression somewhere between grudging admiration and deep disappointment.

The woman came to attention upon being addressed by her superior, her alabastrine skin blushing profusely. “With all due respect, Admiral, I am merely repeating what my… client has instructed me to.” Ahsoka noticed how the soldier addressed Maul as her client with difficulty.

“Is that so?” Admiral Tallon asked.

“Yes, sir. He requested copies of all New Republic legal documents, including the Charter of the New Republic, Defense Fleet Military Code, Articles of Membership, Defense Declarations, the most recent revision of the Rights of Sentience, and the Common Charter. He even wanted to review the Galactic Concordance and the Debble Agreement.”

“That is quite a lot of reading,” Admiral Tallon told the Zabrak, slightly amused. “Did you manage to get through it all?”

“Of course,” Maul replied, looking coy. “I even had time for a quick nap.”

“Well, we’ll see how much of that information you were able to retain,” the man replied crisply. Ahsoka admired the way the admiral refused to lose his composure. “Let’s begin. Admiral Ackbar, as the highest-ranking officer present, will now read your charges.”

The Mon Calamari cleared his throat and began. “You are indeed correct to state that this government cannot hold you accountable for any deeds which occurred during the time of the Empire and the Galactic Republic before it. The exception being, of course, in the case of an intergalactic terrorist threat, which this body holds any member of the ancient Order of the Sith to be. We have sufficient evidence that this includes you.”

Semler Capel shifted uncomfortably in place and interjected: “My client has requested that the evidence be presented before he makes his plea. He has not confessed to belonging to that sect anymore.”

Hera scoffed, and Sinjir Velus started up, leaning forward in his seat. “That’s a lie!” he exclaimed loudly. “Bastard admitted to being a Sith to me just yesterday!”

“Advisor Rath Velus, please maintain your composure,” Adar Tallon said sternly.

“As for the supposed confession,” the warrant officer continued, her frown betraying her sentiments about the entire thing, “after I left the interrogation room, the recording implements were deactivated, and therefore there is no evidence of it. According to the Common Charter, this becomes a case of hearsay, and is inadmissible.”

“There were witnesses in the viewing room!” Sondiv Sella blurted out, which earned him a frown and another warning from Admiral Tallon.

Not missing a beat, Semler Capel stated simply: “Biased witnesses.” She looked helplessly up at the panel and offered up a half-shrug. At her side, Maul turned to look at Sinjir, whose mouth hung open a bit in furious disbelief. Meeting the advisor’s gaze, the Zabrak winked. Velus growled, and made as though to rise from his seat, but both Ahsoka and Sondiv reached over and held him back.

“You are clever, boy,” Maul called out to Sinjir. “But not that clever.”

“You will cease to antagonize those in this room,” Admiral Ackbar snapped, “or we will give an order to have you muzzled until the moment arrives for you to enter your plea.”

“Evidence does not need to be presented as of yet, for this is not a trial, merely a formality to establish charges,” Mon Mothma said coldly. “Please proceed, Admiral.” She nodded at Gial Ackbar encouragingly.

Ahsoka held her breath tensely as the Mon Calamari began to read Maul’s formal accusation. Due to the circumstances of his capture, all the New Republic was able to charge the Zabrak with for the moment was the murder of the three Tusken. Once Admiral Ackbar had finished, Officer Capel stepped forward once more. “Before the accused enters his plea, I must state – for the record – that these charges, as presented, would need to move forward in a civilian criminal court, not a military tribunal. A single instance of a triple homicide, though heinous, does not constitute grounds for the suspect to be treated as a terrorist entity.” She looked down at Maul, who nodded approvingly at her. This seemed to greatly disturb the woman, for she appeared both dismayed and disdainful towards her assigned client. Ahsoka could see that the warrant officer wanted to melt into the floor and disappear, possibly be anywhere else rather than before a panel of the top members in her chain-of-command, defending someone she obviously disliked. The former Padawan felt immense sympathy for the soldier.

“That being said,” Semler Capel continued, swallowing hard as though to keep bile from coming out of her mouth, “Mister Maul has decided not to enter a plea. This is in accordance with Article 8, Section 15 of the Rights of Sentience, where any being, regardless of species, is entitled to not self-incriminate.”

Beside Ahsoka, Sinjir Velus groaned loudly, leaning back in his seat, and running both hands through his hair. Another seat over, Sondiv Sella had buried his face in his hands. Hera Syndulla slammed her fists down on whatever table was in front of her, back wherever she was, the sound clearly heard through her holoprojector. “Bastard!” she hissed, clearly enraged.

“He can’t just not enter a plea!” General Ria protested.

“Unfortunately, he can,” the chancellor said quietly, her expression crestfallen. Ahsoka wasn’t sure what it all meant, but this was obviously very bad news, and not something that the High Command had been expecting. Maul, for his part, looked very smug with himself.

“This almost certainly means his case will need to be moved to the Republic Tribunal,” Sinjir muttered quietly to the Togruta.

“Isn’t that what Mon Mothma wanted?” she asked in a whisper.

“Civilian trial means civilian prison complex,” the man replied under his breath, and suddenly Ahsoka understood why everyone except the Zabrak seemed desolate about the idea.

“We can add charges, then,” Airen Cracken stated suddenly, his mouth twisted into a frown. Ahsoka could tell that the man was livid.

“General…” Luke said quietly in warning, the first time he had spoken at all since the Nightbrother had been brought in.

“You had better come up with them quickly, then,” Maul said languidly. “It has been almost a standard day since my, erm… formal arrest.”

Standing next to him, Officer Capel bowed her head, defeated. “You have less than four hours,” she informed them when she finally looked back up, shoulders sagging. “After that time, Mister Maul has the right to either post bail or be relocated to a civilian reformatory.”

“Not a chance!” Hera seethed, half-rising from her seat.

“What else can you possibly accuse me of, I ask?” Maul inquired solemnly. “To be considered a terrorist, you must have evidence that I have inflicted pain and suffering to further a religious or political agenda, and that I have done so recently. Me trying to kill you and your crew back during your days as scrappy rebels does not count, my dear. That was merely business.”

“Then what about the other bodies‽” Airen Cracken demanded angrily.

“What other bodies?” Mon Mothma asked in surprise.

“General, that is classified information,” Luke cut in sternly, sitting up a bit straighter.

Mon Mothma and the others turned to look at the two men in confusion and growing indignation.

“Have you been keeping information from the chancellery?” the woman asked incredulously. Ahsoka felt both Sondiv and Sinjir tense up beside her, and Admiral Tallon, too, looked increasingly angry.

To everyone’s surprise, Airen Cracken took things casually in stride. “Don’t look too surprised, Mon,” he told the Chandrilan. “You signed the decree that established Alpha Blue and gave them their own charter, separate from the DFMC and outside the parameters of the New Republic Charter, even. The only reason Drayson isn’t here joining the discussion is because he’s not on any official records.”

“Drayson?” Yda Ria asked, shocked. “As in: Hiram Drayson? He’s alive‽”

“Alive and on active duty,” the silver-haired general replied dryly. “And you all must forgive those of us who were in the know of Drayson’s current assignment. We were going to bring these findings forward, of course, once our joint investigation completed. But now, with this new evidence…” he gestured towards Maul with one hand. “I think it’s time we close our case.”

The chancellor sighed, leaning wearily back into her seat, whatever semblance of collected control gone. She looked completely at a loss, which was exactly how Ahsoka felt at the moment. More bodies? How many more?

“You are aware of this clandestine investigation as well, I take it, Skywalker?” Adar Tallon asked tiredly, looking down towards the far end of the table, where the sandy-haired young man sat.

“Yes,” Luke replied simply. “So is General Solo. The three of us have been helping Alpha Blue with their covert missions for some time. Han’s past as a smuggler, Airen’s work with Shadow Ops, and my connection to the Force have awarded us three honorary memberships of a kind.”

Admiral Ackbar shook his head in disbelief, but then he turned to the others. “We have all been aware of the existence of this extra intelligence agency, although the details of their personnel and methods remains a mystery for the most part. The time to demand accountability is not now.” Then he turned to address the two generals: “If you have any evidence which you think will help us lock the criminal before us away, I ask that you both speak freely, with as much detail as you know.”

“Indeed,” Maul murmured from his seat, his attention rapt. Ahsoka noticed the Dathomirian had taken a keen interest in Luke from the moment the young man’s last name was uttered.

“I don’t think we should discuss the topic while he is in here,” Luke said simply, leaning back in his seat and staring at the Nightbrother thoughtfully.

“I don’t see why not,” General Cracken countered with a shrug. “We’re going to have to charge him with those cases as well, either way.” Turning to face the Zabrak before them, he added, “I’m sure he’s responsible for all of it.”

“Please, do tell me how I am responsible,” Maul said, grinning. “I find it fascinating when others relate events of past glory and conquest.”

“You’re repulsive,” spat Hera.

Airen Cracken’s green eyes narrowed to slits. “There are five other instances we know of where the corpses recovered bear this same phenomenon. Multiple bodies were retrieved in each site.” Ahsoka felt lightheaded, the blood draining from her face. By instinct, her hand shot out, seeking something to grab on to. She found Sinjir’s hand, who clasped hers firmly in his own. She could feel him shaking slightly, and glancing over, she saw how he looked just as pale and ashen as she was sure she appeared as well. He was grabbing onto her hand tightly, and with his other, he had reached over for Sondiv’s. The three remained that way, trying desperately to find whatever solace they could in each other. “They have been popping up randomly over the last few months,” Cracken was saying. “The earliest case seems to be a bit over a year ago but was only just discovered about two weeks back. We have been working with Alpha Blue to find a connection between all of these instances, but until now, could find none. Now I know what that link is: it’s him. It’s Darth Maul. He carried out all these massacres, in the name of the Sith.”

“What makes you say so?” the chancellor asked, a tightness in her voice as she tried to keep it steady.

“The phenomenon is the same throughout: several bodies, as many as seven, in the most recent case, where the corpses have been mutilated beyond recognition by these thorny outgrowths. Yet in all these occasions, the spikes are not what kills the victims. It’s lightsaber burns.”

“Hm, as was the case with the Tusken,” Adar Tallon said pensively. “The droids have completed autopsies and scans during the night,” he explained to the others. “You’re correct, Airen. All three of these warriors were killed by a lightsaber.”

Semler Capel looked stricken, but she took a deep breath and interrupted: “I would not be carrying out my duty if I didn’t point out that not only Sith use lightsabers.” She cringed as she said the words. “Although they are rare weapons, we have two present now who wield them: Ahsoka Tano and General Skywalker.”

“Don’t you dare imply that Ahsoka had anything to do with this!” Hera hissed, her lekku twitching in anger. “I have transmissions from her shuttle over the past year where she and Sabine Wren have been travelling the Outer Rim and beyond, searching for Ezra Bridger. I am able to provide the coordinates I received from those transmissions, complete with timestamps.”

“That won’t be necessary, General Syndulla, although I thank you for the offer,” Mon Mothma replied gently. “I too, can vouch for Ahsoka Tano, as I’m sure most of us here can. Her character and integrity have never come into question. We must be thorough in our charges, however, and Officer Capel was merely pointing out facts about the weapon used to commit these crimes.” She turned back to the head of the New Republic Intelligence. “Now, General Cracken, you mentioned that you are convinced that the Zabrak Darth Maul is responsible for these atrocities. You claimed he was the link between these cases. Can you please elaborate?”

“Before now, Darth Maul has been presumed dead,” the general said, “He disappeared from galactic records over a decade ago, in the early years of the Civil War. We knew nearly from the start that these attacks were connected somehow, for all of the occasions – save for one – have taken place in the underground, whether in syndicate strongholds or their controlled territories in the Outer Rim. The first case we came across was an abandoned pirate ship floating along the Entralla Route, nearly at the Mid Rim. They were likely trying to get to Ord Mantell. We needed to clear it out due to the possible hazard it posed to hyperspace traffic. These pirates worked regularly for the Black Sun syndicate, helping them move cargo for their sentient trafficking operation. Everyone onboard: the pirates and enslaved alike, were slaughtered. Only the small four-person crew that wore the actual insignia of the cartel were suffering from this strange ailment. We were only able to determine that they were Falleen after we conducted DNA testing.”

Airen Cracken continued: “We were later alerted to a shootout between the Crimson Dawn and a rival faction in the outskirts of Canto Bight. By the time Alpha Blue arrived, more corpses were discovered. The poor devils that went up against Crimson Dawn had been decimated in the shootout, but it was apparent that the Crimson Dawn wasn’t allowed time to savor their victory. All their goons were slain, cut down like animals by lightsabers… except for who we’re assuming were the top two. They were overgrown with these thorns, and we have yet to identify their remains. Human, both of them.”

Despite her shock and dismay, Ahsoka was beginning to see a pattern, and she understood why General Cracken believed Maul was responsible for all of the occurrences. She was starting to believe it herself, despite the fact he’d told her previously that he had been on Tatooine for years. There was nothing the Nightbrother said that she could trust, it seemed.

“It was the same with the other two instances,” the general was saying. “Dead Pykes in an abandoned asteroid base in the Kessel sector. All cut down with lightsabers, save for four, who were unrecognizable. Their crates of spice were left intact, undisturbed. We even discovered these things growing through beskar armor, on a couple of Mandalorian mercenaries bearing the symbol of the defunct Death Watch. Theirs were the only bodies who we determined were not killed by lightsabers, for beskar withstands the energy of the blade. In a sense, it was far worse that they were not put out of their misery.”

“Through the beskar‽” Admiral Ackbar exclaimed. “What under the everlasting ocean are these spines made of? Have you determined it?”

“No,” Airen Cracken said with a shake of his head. “It is an extremely resilient substance; we were unable to break or blast through it. Yet when exposed to direct flame, it disintegrates into ash almost instantly. None of the scans or analysis were able to identify it. This made the autopsies difficult, as the droids were forced to cut around them. All we have been able to determine is that the infection begins at the bone, and branches outward.”

For a moment, all were silent. Maul appeared excited in Ahsoka’s view. His eyes shone brightly, an almost eager expression upon his face. Watching his giddy reaction made her stomach turn. A dangerous Sith artefact, indeed, and she had almost let him get away! If the New Republic wasn’t careful, he still could get away. She felt sick, just sick.

“You mentioned one other instance, not within the seedy world of piracy and cartels,” Admiral Ho’ror’te finally spoke, sounding weary. “What was it?”

“Dathomir,” General Cracken said, and Ahsoka instantly noticed a shift in the Zabrak’s aura. It flared dangerously, and glancing over at him, she saw his features had taken on a murderous mien. His golden eyes narrowed into slits, and he had subconsciously bared his canines in a vicious snarl. Just the mention of his home world had incensed the Nightbrother to no end. Whatever Airen Cracken was about to reveal was clearly personal to Maul.

“All those factions mentioned earlier had once been a part of the Shadow Collective, the criminal alliance created and headed by Darth Maul,” the general stated. “This was rather evident to us, yet there was still the possibility that whoever had done this was merely working to eliminate old rivals. Any syndicate could have been responsible. I want to remind everyone again, that up until a little over a week ago, Darth Maul has been believed to be dead.” He paused, looking over cautiously at Luke. “Skywalker was the one who discovered the bodies in the swamps.”

Maul’s ire was very palpable in the Force; it was so dense, it made Ahsoka want to choke on the very air around her. The Zabrak himself was having a difficult time breathing properly as well, she could see. His lips were parted slightly, and his breath hissed out between clenched teeth.

“And what, exactly, were you doing on my planet, moisture boy?” he rumbled, glowering hatefully at the young Jedi Master.

Luke turned and regarded the Nightbrother serenely with clear blue eyes, unperturbed by the insult. “I received a vision in the Force,” he answered simply, and Ahsoka knew he was speaking directly to Maul, specifically to him, and the rest of the people in the room – including her – were just ornaments in the backdrop who happened to witness the exchange. “A mother, wailing in anger and despair, pain. Her children were slain, her children were mutilated. She has been weeping for a long time, but I don’t need to tell you this. You’ve seen this vision, too. I had to go to her.”

Ahsoka could see that it was taking all of the Zabrak’s self-control not to attempt to break free and wreak havoc in the room. The veins along his neck were popping out, and his fists were clenched so tightly she was sure he’d cut his own palms. The most telling of all were his eyes, golden-red and ferocious. They were practically glowing, and she felt his power swelling in the Dark Side. Even though Luke was not really in the room, she was certain he could feel it, too. However, the Jedi Master remained impassive. “Dathomir called to me. I knew precisely where to steer my X-wing. The Night Clan villages have been abandoned for a long time now, yet someone had been there, disturbing the dead. The rancor native to the area must have taken up to living in the particular Nightsister settlement I was drawn to. I found the remains of at least twenty. It was crude work, hasty, much messier than the other cases we’ve found. And this was the instance where the most bodies showed this phenomenon, a total of seven. As I reported to Alpha Blue, I believe this was the first perpetration of these massacres. The hand was unpracticed, and there was no real reason to attack animals, if not to train. I had R2 do a thorough scan of the area and of the bodies, although from the state of decomposition, I knew they had been there a while. With the information R2 gathered, we know these rancors were killed approximately fifteen standard months ago.”

“And this added a wrench into our entire theory about this being mere infighting among the syndicates,” General Cracken concluded. “While it is true that the Crimson Dawn used to have a base of operations there, it too, has been abandoned for almost two decades, and the village where Skywalker discovered the remains is on the other side of the planet.” He turned to fix the Dathomirian in place with a glare. “Now, with the information brought to us by former Fulcrum Agent Tano, the final piece of our puzzle fell into place. The question regarding who could possibly wish to eradicate these cartels is answered as soon as we place Darth Maul back into the equation. Who else but the infamous Shadow would benefit from destroying the Shadow Collective? It would erase any trace that he ever existed, and he can begin to operate out of the darkness once more, unchallenged, unperturbed.” Cold-faced, he then turned to Warrant Officer Capel, who looked pallid and nauseous. “Are these cases enough evidence for you, soldier?”

“Charge him with the lot,” Hera growled, her delicate nostrils flaring. “All of those cases together definitely form a pattern of terror across the Outer Rim. And whether or not he admits to being Sith, the bodies having been mutilated in that way is proof enough that it was done in a ritualistic manner, like a cult would do. That fits the definition of a terrorist entity to me.”

Among the murmurs of assent, the remaining active holoprojector finally sparked to life, and a slightly unkempt Han Solo hastily took his place among the others. He looked frazzled and upset. “What did I miss?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Nearly everything, Solo,” the Twi’lek informed him, a bit annoyed.

“Skywalker and I just finished briefing everyone on the Alpha Blue case files we’ve been helping with,” Airen clarified.

“Yes, and we were about to officially add them to the charges against Darth Maul,” Admiral Ackbar said while Adar Tallon made annotations to his datapad, presumably hastily including the new information.

“Yeah, well, I hate to spoil everyone’s fun, but you can’t do that,” the Corellian said with a heavy sigh.

“Why in chaos not?” demanded General Ria, turning to face the late arrival.

“Well, because he’s not our guy.”

“What‽”

“Luke, we’ve got another one.”

The room went deathly silent as everyone’s attention – Maul’s as well – fixated onto the scruffy-looking General.

“Another case?” asked the chancellor hesitantly, as though dreading the answer.

“That’s right,” Han replied, leaning back into his seat. “It’s why I’m late, and why Si-Flachitt voted present only. That issue zhe’s dealing with in Baxel was an uproar caused by some pirate members of the Sovereign Latitudes. They were spooked senseless, enough to where they looked for the first New Republic military outpost and turned themselves in.”

“Turned themselves in? For what?” General Cracken asked in confusion.

“Anything we wanted to ring them up for, they said,” Han said with a shrug. “They were running from someone, or some thing, according to their own testimony. They would rather be in custody than remain unprotected in Wild Space. They said whatever’s out there is something even Maracavanya can’t offer defense against.” He ran a hand over his face tiredly. “Si-Flachitt’s men finally got them to admit that they had been spying on the Hutts, hoping to encroach on their territories now that they’re weaker due to Jabba’s death. They witnessed a slaughter on Teth and were almost killed themselves. Si-Flachitt forced them to lead zher troops back into the jungles of that planet and found dead bounty hunters. Same as the others, killed by lightsabers, and… Gorga the Hutt, from what they could tell, ripped open by thorns.”

After a pause, Ho’ror’te began hesitantly, “This doesn’t mean that Darth Maul is not responsible for –”

“I’m telling you – he isn’t,” the Corellian interrupted. “Listen, I’ve had my run-ins with Crimson Dawn back in the day, and I’m the last guy who wants to clear this bastard of wrongdoing. But these bodies were still fresh when Si-Flachitt got to them, two standard days old at the most, and they were found five days ago. Do you know where this asshole was a week ago?”

Mon Mothma sighed. “Undergoing intensive surgery, according to Ahsoka’s report.”

“Right,” General Solo replied. “Either that, or unconscious in her custody, anyway. There’s also the witness testimony we got off those pirates. This is the first time we get any survivors of these types of attacks. When you get a chance, kid,” – he looked meaningfully over to Luke – “I’d say you stop by, give these rogues a visit. You might be able to do that mumbo-jumbo Force thing you’re good at and get a better visual than what they described. They mentioned three humanoids, all robed in black, but that’s where the similarities ended. They described one as being over three meters tall and lanky. Then there was a short one that looked weak, but moved fast, and what they assumed was their leader, some bulky, lumpy-looking thing. They said when it touched the Hutt, those thorns began to sprout out of him, and that Gorga screamed and choked on his own blood. They said it looked like an interrogation. The thorns were a means of torture, which we had already guessed by now.”

“Did the pirates see any lightsabers?” Luke asked.

“No, but like I said: by the time Si-Flachitt and zher men arrived, the bodies they found all had lightsaber burns, even Gorga. If there had been any visual confirmation of lightsabers, kid, they would’ve called you in instead of me. The only reason Si-Flachitt reached out to me was because zhe was hoping that as a former scoundrel myself, I might have a clue as to what that infection was. They’d hoped I had run across it before, or at least heard of it. Which I had, but only recently.”

“Well, what does all of this mean, then?” Yda Ria asked. “If he did not kill the Tusken, didn’t kill all the others, why did he stow the corpses away on Agent Tano’s shuttle? And, more importantly, who did commit these crimes?” Like the other members of the High Command, like Ahsoka and Sondiv and Sinjir, like Officer Capel, she looked completely at a loss. The only two people in the room who appeared collected and assured were the new Jedi Master and the former Sith. They stared at each other intently: Luke with the calm assurance of his power in the Light, Maul with contempt and slight disgust.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “I believe General Cracken is partially correct. Darth Maul is the connecting fiber between all these cases.”

“Did he have help?” Hera asked. “Do you think he’s training others in the Dark Side?”

At this, the Zabrak scoffed softly, and his lips twitched into a half-grin. However, he said nothing.

“I meant to say that I think he’s what is driving these attacks, but not in the way you’re thinking, General Syndulla.”

“Tell me then, please. Because I see no other explanation.”

Directing his gaze briefly over to the Dathomirian, the young man returned his attention to the others on the panel before offering simply: “He is being hunted.”

At his words, Ahsoka felt herself growing woozy. A myriad of memories: snippets of conversations past crashed into each other in her head all at once. What Luke said made sense, it made so much sense! By the stars, how could she not have seen it before‽

There are other adherents to the Dark Side than those of Sidious’s lineage.

...awakened the beasts…

...coming forward from the shadows…

...others are bound to answer…                                                                       

The dragon and the daemon, locked in an eternal battle within a never-ending abyss.

You’ve slept enough. Wake up, child.

Ahsoka clutched at Sinjir’s hand with all her might to keep herself grounded, to keep from tumbling into a spiraling madness of her own making. Suddenly, through the whirlwind of troubled thoughts, she felt the bright star that was Luke Skywalker touch her aura, and she heard his voice in her mind, clear and pure as the bells inside a music sphere.

Do not feel guilty for jumping to conclusions, Ahsoka. He manipulated you, manipulated everyone. He wanted us to presume him culpable. Be at peace with the role you’ve played.

The Togruta let her breath out slowly and opened her eyes, only then realizing she’d shut them as tightly as she was gripping Sinjir Velus’s hand. She turned her gaze to the young Jedi Master gratefully, but he was not looking at her. Rather, his attention was fixated upon the Nightbrother, who by this time, was grinning wickedly.

“How long have you known?” Luke demanded with an authority that came only with the awareness of one’s own power.

“Longer than you have,” Maul responded with arrogance earned only by acknowledging one’s own strength.

Ahsoka really wanted to kick his kriffing teeth in.

“M-madam Chancellor…” stuttered Semler Capel, looking a far cry from the crisp military woman she’d been the day before. “How do we proceed with the charges?”

Pale and shaken, but refusing to break down, Mon Mothma gathered herself up in her seat. “As things stand, we can’t. Without evidence, there can be no charges. For now,” she added coldly, glaring scornfully at the Zabrak, who merely smiled at the Chandrilan. “Have the guards remove the suspect back to his cell. We have a little over three hours before he must be released, and I will make damned sure he is kept in custody during that entire time.”

Semler Capel bowed curtly before tapping instructions into her gauntlet’s communicator. Seconds later, the doors opened, and the two DF soldiers who had escorted the prisoner in walked over and, using a control remote, began to steer the containment chair out. Officer Capel followed along behind them. Maul looked over his shoulder at her and smirked. “Do you see, my dear?” he said, loudly enough for the entire room to hear, “I told you I was innocent of all charges.”

The warrant officer blushed, and she pursed her lips irately, her hands clenching into fists at her side as she walked along. The moment the door slid shut behind them, the panel of commanders erupted into angry clamoring.

“So that’s it‽” Hera Syndulla fumed. “Three hours‽ That’s all we get him for‽”

“Impossible, there must be something we can do!” Ho’ror’te despaired.

“I don’t like this anymore than the rest of you,” Admiral Ackbar said tiredly, “but we must abide by the law.”

“But he is twisting the laws to his favor!” Yda Ria countered, bristling. “He is no victim in this!”

“We cannot let word of this get out,” General Cracken added, his expression dark. “Not about this meeting, not about these cases, certainly not about Darth Maul’s existence.”

“How do you expect us to keep this quiet, Airen?” Admiral Tallon demanded. “Are we supposed to incarcerate without evidence, or do you merely want him detained indefinitely? I know your boys in Intelligence do things a little unconventionally, but we are not the Empire. We’re not just going to snuff out the Zabrak, even if he is a Sith.”

“I believe,” Luke cut in, and although his tone was quiet and calm, everyone immediately hushed to listen to the Jedi Master, “that unorthodoxy is exactly what is needed in this case.”

“Luke!” Mon Mothma gasped, incredulous.

“My dear boy, you cannot be serious!” Gial Ackbar added, sounding concerned.

Luke chuckled. “Please, I’m not agreeing with General Cracken’s implication that we execute Darth Maul without a trial, or even that we incarcerate him at all. As I said at the beginning of this meeting, he’s far more valuable to us alive.”

“You’re suggesting we let him go free, kid?” Han asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not necessarily, although, with the information we have before us, we have no legal recourse to detain him any further. Once those three hours are up, we’re done.” The young man sat back in his seat thoughtfully. “Quite honestly, I’m not sure what I mean. I just know that I feel as though the Force has drawn him to us at this precise moment for a reason. I don’t think we’re going to lose him back into the shadows of oblivion just yet.” He shrugged. “There are… methods in the Force, where one might bind a person against their will, but it is dangerous, and very taxing. Ancient Jedi scripts make mention of these techniques that were used in ages past to subdue and control wayward Force users, those who might pose a threat. However, it was done as a last resort, and always by the entire Council of Masters. I’m not sure it can be done by just one person, and there is no record of it ever being attempted on a Sith. Maul is strong and well trained. If I try this, he might be able to resist, even if I had help from other Force-sensitives. However, at the moment, I don’t see what else we could try.”

“No, you can’t!” Ahsoka blurted out from her seat, her anxiety getting the better of her, making her forget her role within the meeting. “Luke, you cannot come near him! Not while he still controls those kyber crystals! Obi-Wan said you and Leia aren’t ready to fight off their influence.” She took a shaky breath, and was about to continue, despite knowing it wasn’t her place, but just then, Adar Tallon’s datapad bleeped and he activated its tiny holoprojector to receive the transmission.

It was Semler Capel, looking agitated. “Sir, I am sorry to intrude on your meeting,” the young woman began as soon as the communication went through, not even waiting to be addressed by her superior first. “Mister Maul has requested that he be released from the restraining chair, and his neural and shock collars and cuffs removed. As he is no longer legally under arrest, and merely detained, according to Article 12, Section 56, Subsection 18 of the NRPC –”

“Yes, soldier, I know what his rights are,” Admiral Tallon snapped irately. “I will allow it, but he remains inside that cell.” He promptly terminated the call and tapped a series of commands onto the datapad.

“Oh, Adar, we shouldn’t!” Mon Mothma fretted.

“No choice, Mon, you know this,” he muttered. “I’m sending an armed squad down there and placing the entire level on high alert.”

“That won’t be enough,” Ahsoka stated, rising to her feet. “I’ve seen what Maul is capable of. If he wants to escape, he will.”

“Legally, we must abide by his request, and there is little more I can do than to –”

“Let me accompany the men you’re sending down there,” the Togruta interrupted firmly. “I’ve subdued him before. I can do so again. At the very least, he might hesitate to do anything brash if I’m there.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Luke countered. “I doubt he will try to break free, Admiral. He knows that all he needs to do at this point is wait out the chronometer.”

“I’d still feel more at ease if I kept an eye on him myself,” Ahsoka insisted, her hands subconsciously having moved to rest upon her lightsaber hilts. “If my presence is no longer required here, I would very much like permission to go to the detainment level.”

Admiral Tallon sighed and nodded. “You have my permission, Ahsoka, unless anyone else has objections to this?” To the uncomfortable silence, he added, “To be quite honest, I, myself, will feel more at ease once you’re down there as well. I’ll send someone over to escort you.”

“No need for that,” Sinjir interjected. “I’ll take her.” He stood up beside the former spy and placed a hand at her elbow protectively. Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Please, do be careful, both of you,” Mon Mothma urged.

Nodding, the two of them exited the room while the panel continued their discussion.

“I can’t believe he played us all like this!” Sinjir grumbled as they walked along. “Why would he even want us to think he was guilty‽”

“Actually,” Ahsoka began, her brow furrowing. She had been giving the same question a lot of thought since Han Solo interrupted the meeting with the absolving information. “Maul never actually admitted to killing the Tusken. He just allowed us to believe he was responsible.” She huffed out a breath in frustration. “Stars! He is just like Obi-Wan! Think back to what he said, Sinjir.”

They walked on in silence as the man ruminated things over. After a few seconds, he stopped dead in his tracks, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. “Bastard!” he exclaimed loudly. “Damn it, you’re right.”

“This has always been a game to him, from the moment we faced off on Tatooine,” the former Jedi said heavily, shoulders sagging. “And that may have been my fault. I invited him to play.”

“Oh, don’t go blaming yourself, Ahsoka,” Velus told her, moving to catch up. “From the little I’ve known you for, I’ve already noticed that’s a bad habit you have that you need to get rid of. The sooner, the better. You can’t take responsibility for the actions others take. Certainly not for a scumbag like Darth Maul.”

“He asked me to leave him behind on Tatooine, after I shot him, you know,” the Togruta countered. “He told me to leave the planet and forget I ever ran into him.”

“Yeah, sure, knowing you would never do that,” Sinjir replied, rolling his eyes. “He’s not an idiot, Ahsoka. Plus, you’re the one who told me he was good at reading minds. It never occurred to you that he’s been doing the same to you this entire time?”

“I’m not sure…” she said doubtfully. “I never felt him try to pry into my mind, and besides, there are ways to shield oneself from intrusion or mental attacks, using the Force. It’s one of the most basic methods taught by the Jedi, from the moment we’re younglings assigned to a creche clan. I’ve kept my mental shields up since I was a Padawan. It’s become second-nature to me.”

“I didn’t feel so much as a nudge when he looked into my thoughts,” Sinjir said, shrugging. “He might just be really good at it. Either way, I don’t think you should feel responsible for anything that asshole’s done since you’ve captured him. Everything he’s said and done until now has been because he wanted to.”

Ahsoka sighed and tilted her head back to look at the fluorescent lights of the ceiling as they walked along. “You’re right. I know you are. It’s only that… being around Maul makes me feel like everything around me is veering out of control. It’s my instinct, I guess, to take responsibility for what’s happening. As though, if I’m responsible for it, maybe there’s something I can do to fix it. Am I making sense?”

“I doubt there’s anything anyone can do to fix that walking disaster,” Sinjir quipped, frowning. “Ugh! And to think: he was able to not only get life-saving surgery but upgrades to his prosthetics at the expense of the Mothmas, it really makes my blood –”

Something seemed to click inside the advisor’s head as he ranted. Once again, he stopped short, just before they reached the elevator, and slapped a hand onto his forehead with a loud groan. The Togruta stopped as well, looking back at him curiously over her shoulder. When Sinjir uncovered his face, he was grinning broadly, his eyes sparkling triumphantly. “Ahsoka!” he exclaimed, stepping up to her. He took her hands in his and squeezed them. “That’s it! I know how we nail the bastard! I need to get ahold of Mon!”

Puzzled, the ex-Jedi said nothing as Sinjir activated his bracer comm. “Damn it, woman!” he muttered after a few seconds. “I forget she turns off her frequency when she’s in these meetings. You’d think she’d know I’d only contact her if it was important. Ah, well, let me try Sondiv…”

“What is it…?” Ahsoka asked, but Sinjir merely raised a finger to silence her as the tiny holoprojector on his gauntlet activated, revealing the worried face of Sondiv Sella. “Sinjir, what’s wrong?” the older man asked.

“Sondiv – Rights of Sentience! They prevent the sentient slave trade!”

“What?”

“It outlaws slavery! But there’s a loophole. I know the clause by heart: we Imps used to recite it all the damn time before the Emperor just did away with the Rights completely.”

“What are you talking about‽”

“Just shut up and listen, damnit!” Sinjir growled. “Indentured servitude. The RoS stipulate that no one person can own another, regardless of species, so long as they’re sentient, correct?”

“Right…” Sondiv nodded, but he sounded just as flummoxed as Ahsoka felt.

 “The Senate enacted Resolution 54.325, which reinforces the Rights of Sentience. It states, and I quote: ‘Be it enacted by the present assembly, that neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as punishment for a convicted crime, shall exist.’ However, Clause 26 was kept in place, and that states that a debtor can pledge their personal services as security for debt, so long as the value of those services is reasonably assessed and applied toward the liquidation of the debt, and the length and nature of those services are limited and defined.” He paused to catch his breath, exhilarated. “Sondiv – Mon paid for this creep’s surgery out of her family’s estate. He owes her, big time. She can demand repayment, and it doesn’t matter that he didn’t agree to her help directly, since that falls under the Emergency Life Provision Act, where medics and third parties can make decisions for the wellbeing of unconscious or incapacitated patients, even against their will. He can choose to pay her with labor, or he rots in a cell. Either way, she owns his tin-can of an ass.”

As Sinjir Velus’s words washed over them, Sondiv and Ahsoka broke out into identical grins. “Sinjir, you rascal! You’ve done it!” Sondiv Sella whooped enthusiastically. From where she stood, Ahsoka could hear other voices, distant and distorted, start up in the background of the holograph. “The panel heard you, loud and clear. Oh, Sinjir, if this works… I think Mon’s going to buy you an entire case of lachrymead!”

Sinjir chuckled. “Well, it hasn’t worked yet, and in either case, I would be satisfied with a mug of the HQ’s mess hall caf. I think I’m starting to take a liking to that stuff.” With that, he terminated the communication.

“Have you, now?” Ahsoka teased.

“No, not really,” Sinjir admitted as the two stepped into the elevator. “But I actually am trying to keep off the booze.”

Chapter Text

As they waited in the elevator for the guards to come fetch them once they’d reached the detainment level, Sinjir turned to the former Jedi and said, “When we go in there, it’ll be best if we keep our distance. We’re not here to engage with him, just to make sure he doesn’t try anything sneaky. I don’t want him picking up on what we’re planning to do. You may have mental shields in place or whatnot, but I don’t know the first thing about doing something like that. Can a normal person even do that?”

Ahsoka smiled. “Yes, believe it or not. Closing off your mind from outside intrusion isn’t a Force thing. Reading minds is. There used to be various religions throughout the galaxy – many now defunct, thanks to the Empire – that believed in the universal tenants of the Force in some way or another, and most of their adherents were not Force-sensitive themselves. Even so, they would learn techniques similar to the ones the Jedi practiced, including setting up mind shields. If we had the time, I’d teach you.”

“Ah, if it involves closing my eyes for longer than two minutes, I’ll probably fall asleep. I get bored easily.” The man shrugged.

Just then, a pair of guards finally arrived to escort them into the detention level. Ahsoka was a little taken aback to see that an entire squad of DF soldiers was now standing at attention all along the hallway, two before each holding room, stoic-faced and tense. At the far end, before Maul’s cell, stood twice as many soldiers, all holding blasters. Semler Capel was standing with them, her arms across her chest, facing the energy shields. Even though Ahsoka couldn’t see him from where she and Sinjir stood, she could tell that the military woman was currently engaged in a dour conversation with the Zabrak.

Ahsoka and Sinjir only walked about a quarter of the way down the hallway and remained there, with the advisor hesitant to go any further. They did not speak to one another, or to the soldiers, yet Semler Capel turned to them pointedly after a few seconds, then began to make her way over to them. It was obvious to the Togruta that she had been alerted to their presence by Maul.

“Officer,” Sinjir said with a curt nod as she stepped up to the pair.

“Advisor,” the woman replied coldly. She had obviously not forgiven him for his public dismissal of her (and consequently, her humiliation) the day before. Then, turning towards the former Padawan, she offered a small nod and said, “Mister Maul told me you would come down if he had his restraints removed.” She paused. “I wish you’d proved him wrong.”

“Is he being an insufferable jerk?” Ahsoka asked.

“Does he know any other way to be?”

The Togruta smirked. “Not in my experience.”

“You were always aware he would find a way to wriggle out of the charges, weren’t you?” Sinjir asked Capel in accusatory tones. “You knew what he was planning, and you didn’t even alert Tallon.”

The officer turned to the man, anger flashing in her gray eyes. “I certainly was not!” she exclaimed, blushing slightly. “The manner in which you are implying that I would willingly aid a criminal – because he is one, whether the New Republic is able to prove it or not – is offensive and unacceptable! He pretty much built his defense on his own; I was merely his mouthpiece. He was very specific in what he instructed me to do before the High Command. Was I supposed to deny him? I know the parameters of my duty, Advisor Velus. You, on the other hand, very obviously do not.” She put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin defiantly. “If you had followed protocol and kept the holo-recorder running, we wouldn’t be in this mess! It’s been your actions that will allow this creep to get away!”

Sinjir’s dark eyes narrowed, but Ahsoka stepped between the two before an argument could ensue. “Now is not the time for this,” she said sternly. “Besides, let’s not kid ourselves, okay? Maul would have never said as much as he did if that recorder had been active. If there is one thing I know about him, it’s that he’s a master at manipulation. None of us ever stood a chance in butting wits against him.”

“I think we can all agree on that,” Sinjir muttered with a frown. “That’s why I think it best if we keep a safe distance from the bastard. I don’t want him poking around my brain again.”

At this comment, Semler Capel’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you think physical range is a factor?” she asked dryly. “That’s cute.”

Sinjir said nothing, but pouted, a worried line creasing his forehead. The soldier continued, “Do you want to know how he presented himself to me? He was humming a tune I had heard that morning on the HoloNet as I was getting ready for work, before I even knew this assignment was available. When I walked into the interrogation room, he was already halfway through the chorus. The guards told me he’d been at it since before I reached the detention level. It’s a new song by Melodic Order, debuted yesterday, in fact, so I doubt there was a way he could have heard it before. Even the soldiers keeping watch over him didn’t know the tune. After our introductions, and I pointed out that he was a lowlife who was finally getting what he deserved, he responded with: ‘I’m flawed and I’m broken, it’s true, my dear.’ That is a direct lyric from the song.” She shuddered. “Whatever you think you’ll be able to keep from him by standing all the way over here, I can guarantee he already knows.”

As though to buttress her point, from the far end of the hallway, the Zabrak began to hum loudly, presumably the tune Capel had been talking about. The young woman blushed more deeply still and covered her face with her hands. She looked as though she were about to cry. Sympathetically, Sinjir immediately stepped around Ahsoka and put a hand on the warrant officer’s shoulder. “Hey, there, it’s alright,” he said.

“I can’t stand him…!” the military woman mumbled. “Stars, I can’t take much more of this!”

Ahsoka felt herself bristle in anger, and resolutely, she closed her eyes and focused her aura in the direction of the Nightbrother, pushing against his Living Force with her own, gently but firmly shoving against his presence until he shut up. The humming stopped, thankfully, but was soon followed by a soft chuckle.

“Sinjir, maybe you should take Officer Capel upstairs to that mess hall, get her something hot to drink,” the ex-Jedi suggested, looking at the man meaningfully.

Semler Capel shook her head. “I’m not abandoning my post. My place is here, however much longer this farce lasts.”

Ahsoka smiled kindly at her. “This is not dereliction of duty, Officer Capel. You’re not leaving Maul alone to his own devices. I will stay here. And, seeing as how I have mental shields in place and you two do not, I think I have a better chance at resisting psychic intrusion. Take a small break. It’ll do you good. You won’t be of any help if you burn out.”

Sinjir nodded encouragingly while the woman looked between him and the Togruta. Finally, the soldier acquiesced. “We’ll be gone no longer than five minutes,” she promised.

“You can take longer, if you wish,” Ahsoka replied. “I’ll be fine here with Gramps.”

Before the military woman could argue, Sinjir promptly turned away, back towards the elevator and said, “We’ll be back in ten.” Then, looking casually over his shoulder, he called, a bit sternly, “Come along, Officer Capel. Don’t make me order you around again.” He grinned to show that he was only joking.

Semler Capel threw her head back jauntily and replied, “You actually have no authority to do so, Advisor Velus.” However, her gray eyes were sparkling, and she followed quickly after the man. Ahsoka was glad to see the two seemed to have reached some type of unspoken, mutual understanding. She didn’t think they would ever come to be friends, per se, but at least they respected one another, and the underlying tense hostility between them was quickly dissipating. She smiled at their retreating forms as the pair reached the elevator.

Just then, her thoughts were brought back to the situation at hand by a strange sensation in her brain. Like a nudge, something pushing against her consciousness. It took her a few seconds to recognize the phenomenon. Someone was trying to get past her mental shields, and were doing so in a very obvious manner, almost as though purposefully trying to get her attention rather than actually trying to break through to read her mind. Back in the Grand Temple, the Jedi Masters would sometimes visit the creche clans and test the younglings’ quickly developing abilities in this way, just to see if they were mastering the proper skills at an appropriate rate. This, however, was no mentor trying to test his student. Ahsoka frowned and spun on her heel, walking briskly over to the far end of the hallway, where the most soldiers congregated before the final cell.

“What‽” she asked the Zabrak testily as she came up to the energy shielding, hands on her hips. On the other side, inside the cell, Maul chuckled again.

“I was getting lonely,” he told her, grinning to reveal his canines. “And when I get lonely, I get bored.” There was a definite threat in his implication.

Ahsoka was disturbed to see the Dathomirian out of his restraints. As he had requested, he had been let out of his containment chair and was now standing on his own two cybernetic feet – even the shackles around his ankles were gone. Worse still, both the neural and shock collars were nowhere to be seen, which meant there was little to stop the Zabrak from ripping the jailcell to pieces, save for his own self-restraint.

The Togruta tried not to let her unease show, however, and she cocked an eye-ridge with a tilt of her head. “You’d rather be back in a sand-pit somewhere?” she said nonchalantly. “The New Republic might be able to arrange something for you, so you don’t get homesick.”

“For your information, Lady Tano, my dwelling on Tatooine was a rather comfortable cavern. It had all the necessary amenities: sand, rocks, more sand, boulders, but, best of all: no light.”

“A fitting abode for a Sith,” Ahsoka replied, having caught on to the connotation.

“Ah, no,” Maul stated. “The Sith, like the Jedi, preferred more solid, artificial structures. You know, temples and the like.” Still grinning at her, he kept his hands clasped behind his back and leaned back on his heels a bit.

“Did you really call me over just to chat about buildings?” the Togruta asked, annoyance slipping through her tone of voice.

The Nightbrother shrugged. “It seems to be a neutral enough topic of conversation.”

“And why do you want to talk to me at all?”

He blinked at her in surprise. “Did I not just tell you? I was getting restless, being here all on my lonesome.”

“Aren’t all these fine gentlemen enough company for you?” Ahsoka asked, gesturing around her at the armed guards. The DF soldiers nearest to her looked uncomfortable as she made mention of them, possibly wary of her drawing Maul’s attention to them. However, the Zabrak merely glanced at them briefly, his expression aloof and uncaring. “I will not even dignify that with an answer,” he muttered, turning away from her, and beginning to walk the length of the cell.

Ahsoka observed her foe quietly as he moved around the small room. She could discern that something was bothering him: he wasn’t pacing in order to look for weaknesses in the structure, as she had done the day before. He was genuinely anxious. She wondered if it had something to do with the information Han Solo had brought forward. Now that she knew Maul wasn’t responsible for the atrocities committed on the Tusken or on any of the other cases that had been discussed, she felt a sense of relief, yet also, intrigue. She supposed the Dark Side renegade was tense about the entire thing. If what Luke had said was true, and Maul was being pursued, it would make sense for him to be troubled. As she had during her vision in the Force, the Togruta felt a sudden urge to comfort him. How strange, she mused. Just moments ago, she had thought him capable of the most odious of massacres. Ahsoka Tano, you are a fickle creature, she scolded herself. Make up your damn mind.

“Your new friend, Advisor Rath Velus,” the Dathomirian finally spoke up. “He was feeling particularly elated a moment ago. I could tell he had a ‘Eureka!’ moment, and he has done a very poor job trying to suppress it.”

“Capel told us of how you’re able to prod people’s minds from a good distance away, so quit pretending you don’t know what Sinjir’s idea was to keep you locked up.”

Maul paused in his pacing and turned to her briefly, a smirk temporarily appearing upon his lips. “Oh, you are slow, Lady Tano. He does not want me incarcerated at all. Neither does Skywalker. But I will tell you this now: I will not be made into a slave to anyone, for however long or short a period this High Command decides. I only ever served one master, and that experience was enough to last me a lifetime. And I most certainly refuse to be indebted to her.”

“You mean Chancellor Mothma?”

“Huh, so she is the chancellor now,” the Zabrak growled, and Ahsoka was a bit taken aback by the frustration in his tone. Maul stopped his march around the cell to look scornfully at her. “Leave it to you to befriend the most quixotically ignorant noblewoman in the galaxy!”

Ahsoka felt her lekku flush at the comment, and her aura spiked angrily; she didn’t even try to hide it from the imprisoned Nightbrother. “Madam Mothma has lost much thanks to the Empire and your master, perhaps more than most. The fact she never forgot her vision and hope for a better future doesn’t make her ignorant, and her views on the state of the galaxy certainly aren’t romanticized.”

To this, the Dathomirian merely scoffed. “She has not wanted to consider the death penalty for me, has she?” When Ahsoka didn’t answer, Maul raised an eye-ridge skeptically. “Do you see what I mean? At least Hera Syndulla has the sense to demand that the New Republic treat me as a terrorist threat. She probably wants my head on a pike, and would have it carried out, too, Rights of Sentience be damned! Yet, Mon – that damn woman does not even have the spine to try and eliminate me as a menace, even after I –”

At this, he stopped himself short, and Ahsoka noticed with surprise that he looked a slightly deeper shade of crimson than before. Was Maul blushing‽ She didn’t get the opportunity to verify, for the Zabrak turned his back on her and skulked away, towards the commode along the opposite wall. His hands were gripped tightly at his back. Ahsoka’s shock was quickly turning into curiosity. Had Maul just referred to the chancellor by her first name? How exactly did the two know each other, anyway? She recalled how uncomfortable the Chandrilan had been when she spoke of the renegade Dark Sider when they’d discussed him, back at the dacha. This was a new development that certainly had now piqued the Togruta’s interest. “Of all the people you must know in high places,” the Zabrak was muttering at the wall, “why did you seek out her aid‽”

Ahsoka smiled, her fangs poking out from between her lips. Whatever the reason was, she decided she rather liked seeing the Nightbrother uncomfortable. “Well,” she said with a casual shrug, “at the moment, there is no one in the galaxy with more clout than Mon Mothma.” When he turned around to look at her with a deadpan stare, the former Padawan’s smirk grew. “Consider yourself lucky,” the Togruta continued, “it’s thanks to that noblewoman that you’re alive and able to complain about it now. You owe your life to the chancellor, old man.”

“And this predicament to you, Lady Tano,” he snarled, narrowing his eyes.

The former Jedi sighed exaggeratedly and rolled her eyes. “I will not argue semantics now,” she said sardonically. She knew she was doing nothing to endear herself to the Dathomirian, for his scowl only deepened and his breath escaped in a quiet hiss. He reminded her so much of that furred avian behemoth from her Force trance, it was almost comical. Yet recalling her vision of the creature only served to remind her of the last time she had seen it: hunkering away from her, in pain, trying in vain to ward off her attempts to reach it while it…

… mourned.

As the notion dawned on her, Ahsoka’s mirth quickly fizzled out. She studied the Nightbrother with different eyes. She realized that he was barely keeping himself together – through anger, of course – but he was distressed. He did a fantastic job of wrapping up his emotions with spite, but underneath that hatred, just as she had registered from the chiropteran that seemed to be his embodiment in the Force, Maul was in pain. He was hurt, and he was afraid. Something in her chest tightened up, making it uncomfortable to breathe. Subconsciously, she removed her hands from her hips and hugged herself around her midsection instead.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, the words tumbling out clumsily from her lips. For mocking you while you’re at your worst, for believing the worst about you, for being so dense and distrustful that I didn’t even realize it couldn’t have been you who killed all those people. They were murdered with lightsabers. Yours had been buried in the sand for years. I’m the one who dug it up, damnit! There was so much she wanted to say but couldn’t articulate adequately. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about all this, just because of who you are.”

Just as his animalistic avatar had done in her vision, the Zabrak’s Living Force flared darkly, and even though he didn’t change his posture whatsoever, Ahsoka felt him cringe away from her. “There is no need for apologies,” he muttered at last. “I wanted you to presume my guilt.”

“Why?” a voice demanded from behind the Togruta, making her jump a little. She had been so engrossed in her own inner turmoil, that she hadn’t realized Sinjir and Capel had returned from their small break. The advisor was standing directly at Ahsoka’s back, arms crossed over his chest, with the military woman at his side. Apparently, the warrant officer had convinced him that there was no use in not interacting with Maul and might even work to the Zabrak’s benefit. “I don’t get it,” Sinjir continued. “Why did you allow us to believe you killed the Sand People? What did you gain from that?”

Maul didn’t reply, merely turning to scowl at the new arrivals. He seemed irate that his conversation with Ahsoka had been interrupted. The ex-Padawan looked thoughtfully at her foe. Although, her conviction that he was her enemy was beginning to waver a bit. She still didn’t trust him, but she knew giving in to her preconceptions might play to his advantage, as it had up until Luke’s keen insight shattered whatever plan the Nightbrother had. Keeping that in mind, she asked herself: what had been Maul’s intent? Sinjir’s question bounced around in her brain: “What did you gain from that?”

“Information,” she answered in Maul’s stead, and noticed how the Zabrak instantly stiffened. Keeping her gaze locked onto his, Ahsoka approached the cell, once more coming as close to the energy shielding as possible without getting zapped back. An idea was growing in her mind, and judging by the Dathomirian’s reaction, she knew it was accurate. “Because he doesn’t know who did this.” She paused, reaching out to the Zabrak with her aura and allowing it to wash over his, almost in an inviting manner. “You don’t, do you?”

Maul’s hands finally unclasped themselves from behind him and he allowed his arms to fall to his sides as he stepped up to the Togruta until the only thing keeping them from reaching out and throttling one another was the dual force fields of the cell’s entrance. He stared intently at her, and this time, when she felt him nudge against her mental shields, she knew he was actually trying to peer into her thoughts. However, Ahsoka’s mind was strong, as was her power in the Force. He wouldn’t get through her defenses so easily. She returned the favor by prodding at his own barriers, trying to get a read on what he was truly feeling in that instant. Beyond that armor of anger – which certainly was strong at the moment – the former Jedi sensed the Dark Sider’s frustration. When she spoke again, it was barely above a whisper, only meant for him to hear. “You don’t know who the dragon is.”

The Nightbrother’s brow scrunched up in confusion at her words. “Dragon…?” he asked, murmuring himself. His golden-red eyes searched her own, and after a few seconds, she saw a spark of recognition light up in them, and he involuntarily took one step back, as though to keep her from noticing.

At that moment, one of the Defense Fleet soldiers walked up to the group, the rank on his uniform designating him as a sergeant. Clearly the person in charge of the squad currently guarding the entire level.

“Agent Tano,” the man said crisply while standing at attention. Ahsoka reluctantly tore her gaze from the imprisoned Zabrak and turned to face the soldier. “High Command is requesting an audience with you.”

The Togruta frowned. “Admiral Tallon wanted us down here,” she said, stepping away from the cell. “I was assured our presence upstairs was no longer required.”

“I do not know the current status of their meeting, ma’am,” the sergeant replied. “But you don’t have to go back to the conference room if you feel you are better situated here. There is holo equipment in the interrogation room next door you can use.”

“Yes, I’d much rather do that,” she said. Turning to Sinjir and Capel, she said to them, “I won’t be long, I hope. In the meantime, think dirty thoughts or go over the lyrics of annoying, repetitive songs. That ought to keep the old man out of your heads.” Seeing Maul’s expression of disgust verified that such a thing might work, at least superficially. This was a trick the Clone Troopers had devised after their time serving under Jedi generals. If a skilled psychic – which she surmised the Zabrak to be, judging from Capel’s description – wanted to get beyond this gimmick, it was of course possible. However, it would force Maul to exert more effort, and Sinjir and Capel would be sure to feel the violation. She grinned at the imprisoned Dathomirian and winked playfully before turning her back on him and following after the sergeant.

Behind her, she felt an odd sensation which she realized was Maul closing himself off from the Cosmic Force. “Mister Maul, if you didn’t know who committed these crimes, why didn’t you just say so?” the warrant officer asked as Ahsoka was led to the rooms from the day before. She didn’t get to hear Maul’s response, for the door slid shut behind her. The sergeant used his credentials to open up the interrogation room as well and led her in. The Togruta recognized the simplistic setting from the day before: the lone metal table bolted to the floor. Pushing buttons just beneath the tabletop, as Sinjir had done previously, the soldier accompanying her activated a panel which caused a small holoprojector to come out of a slot on the surface. He input coordinates which he got off his gauntlet into the control panel, and soon the ready light came on the projector before it whirred to life with a clear blue light.

A miniature version of the High Command panel appeared before Ahsoka on the durasteel tabletop. The Togruta leaned forward, placing the heels of her hands against the edge. The sergeant tapped her shoulder lightly and indicated up to the holo-recorder above the window. “They’ll receive your image and audio from up there,” he informed her. At her nod of understanding, the man bobbed his head politely and exited the room. “We will leave the doors unlocked for your convenience,” he called over his shoulder.

“Sure, thank you,” Ahsoka replied.

As soon as the door closed behind the man, she turned her attention back to the people on the holograph. “How may I be of assistance?” she asked politely, trying to keep her slight annoyance from showing. She had to admit, Maul wasn’t the only one who was irate at being pulled away from that conversation. She knew she had been so close to perhaps gaining some insight into the recent string of murders, if only she’d been allowed some more time alone with the renegade Dark Sider.

“Ahsoka,” the chancellor began, her tone calm but her expression slightly worried. “The High Command has reviewed the clause Sinjir brought forward. From what we have been able to review rapidly in the past few moments, everything seems to confirm his suspicions: we can use this information to force Darth Maul into a form of temporary servantship. That is, of course, so long as he agrees to it. The Rights of Sentience protect him from doing anything against his will. The other option he has will be to remain in custody, which none of us here believe he will want.”

“He already suspects as much,” Ahsoka replied, frowning slightly. “From his reaction to the entire ploy, I don’t think he has something in mind just now to counteract it, although I’m sure he’ll look into legal means in order to do so.”

“That doesn’t concern us for the moment being,” the Chandrilan replied. “We are simply relieved to be able to keep him in holding for a while longer. Even if only for a few more days, that will be time enough to get our best legal experts on this case in order to make sure he cannot worm his way out of custody.” The woman turned to look down the table at Luke. “However, General Skywalker brought up the problem that will face us as soon as Darth Maul agrees to our terms, and that will be keeping him secured and on a tight leash while not actually imprisoned.”

“If you’re still contemplating the idea of binding him through the Force, Luke, I am strongly advising against it,” the former Jedi said matter-of-factly. “Those ancient techniques haven’t been employed since the times of the High Republic, probably, if not before. I don’t care how many midichlorians course through your veins, you’re just not ready to attempt something like that!”

Despite the fuzzy image caused by the double-hologram, the Togruta saw the man shake his head. “There’s no need for you to worry about that,” he said. “As I mentioned before, it was only a suggestion, and not something I would try unless I had no other choice. My idea is a different one, although I don’t think you will like it either. Hera has already voiced her objection to this.”

“And I will do so again,” the Twi’lek reiterated, obviously cross. Her arms were folded over her chest, and she bounced her crossed leg impatiently. The rest of the panel remained uncomfortably silent.

Ahsoka raised an eye-ridge. “Well?” she demanded. “We’re not going to get anywhere close to resolving this mess unless you tell me what you have planned, kiddo.”

Luke cleared his throat. It was the first time since he joined the meeting that Ahsoka saw the Jedi Master look uncomfortable. “I was hoping you would take him.”

Ahsoka stared at the projection before her for a few seconds, stunned into silence. No, she couldn’t have heard that correctly. What did Luke even mean by that‽

“Would you mind repeating that again?” the Togruta said at last. “Call me crazy, but it almost sounded like you wanted me to –”

“Keep Maul in custody yourself, yes.”

Ahsoka blinked a few times and stepped back from the table, placing her hands on her hips. She didn’t know how to respond to that. “Why‽” she finally asked.

“It’s a terrible idea, Skywalker, and it isn’t fair to Ahsoka!” Hera blurted out angrily before the young man could answer. “Just because she’s defeated this piece of space-sludge a couple of times doesn’t mean she should get saddled with the burden of babysitting the carking Sith!” She coughed quietly into her fist, then said, “Excuse my language, everyone. Although, not really.”

“He deserves every insult you can conjure up, General Syndulla,” Yda Ria said approvingly. “And although I agree with your assessment at the lack of fairness of the situation, I really do see no other way out of this. Force users are in short supply these days, and the Zabrak does need to be kept closely guarded. Who better suited to do this than one who matches him in skill and ability?”

Ahsoka sighed heavily as the seriousness of the conversation began to register in her mind. “You… are serious about this?”

“Very,” Luke replied. Then he added, a bit meekly. “I’m sorry, Ahsoka. I would never ask this of you if there was another option.”

“There are other options!” Hera protested. “As leaders within the galactic military structure, we should never ask someone else to handle what we are not willing to do ourselves!” She glared daggers at the Jedi Master, her implication evident.

“Hey, now!” Han Solo cut in, raising a hand defensively. “You know full well the kid’s status on this board is different from the rest of us! He may hold the same rank as we do, Syndulla, but he is no more in command of military forces than my wife is! Their rank is more of an… honorary title.”

“Be that as it may,” the Twi’lek replied tersely, “his opinion holds as much weight as any of ours, perhaps more so, due to his power in the Force. He can’t place Ahsoka in this kind of danger, because he knows the type of dangers she will face! If he really means to reform the Jedi, then he should be the one to deal with the Sith.”

“So, you want him to – what? – drag this evil wizard guy around while he’s zooming about the galaxy, trying to rebuild an ancient magical order or whatever?” Solo countered. “Look, none of us want to put Tano in harm's way, but if you want Luke to handle the Sith instead of your friend, then rather than her being in danger, you’ll instead be exposing a bunch of kids – including both yours and mine.”

At the Corellian’s stern words, Hera fell silent. Her frustration, however, was still evident in her delicate features. The way her brow creased, and her bottom lip pushed out a bit as she pouted reminded Ahsoka a lot of her son, whom the Togruta had grown quite fond of since meeting. The thought of Maul ever coming anywhere near the boy made her stomach twist up.

“Please,” she said, cutting into the tense atmosphere, “we shouldn’t be fighting amongst ourselves. That serves no one, save for Maul and whoever is behind these attacks.”

“It’s only because of these killings that I don’t want to keep Darth Maul in one place,” Luke explained. “These events have all occurred in places or to people that were significant in his dealings with the underground. Now that there’s been one more instance discovered on Tatooine, it means that whoever is behind this is getting pretty close to catching up to him. We need to keep that from happening at all costs.”

“But, why?” Ahsoka asked. “If the true culprit of these atrocities comes forward to attack Maul, won’t they be easier to apprehend?”

“There are too many variables we cannot predict,” Admiral Ackbar interjected. “For all we know, young Skywalker is wrong, and the perpetrator isn’t looking for a confrontation with the Sith, but rather an alliance.”

“By destroying his past associates?” the Togruta asked with a skeptic tilt of her head. “Seems unlikely.”

“From the way all of these scenarios have been staged,” General Cracken spoke up, “I’m not sure whoever is behind this was killing in order to erase the Zabrak’s existence, or even to send him a message in warning. The lackeys were obviously killed first, and quickly. Only whoever were in charge of these respective groups were then subjected to the torture method via those thorns. Which means they were after information, likely about Darth Maul’s whereabouts. Once they obtained the intel they needed, they finished off their victims in order to not leave witnesses. What they plan to do with the Zabrak once they find him is anyone’s guess.”

“They attacked and massacred animals on his native planet, and at the site of one of his people’s abandoned settlements. I still think my theory is the most plausible, in that they wish to bring him harm,” Luke countered. “Followers of the Dark Side make for poor allies to anyone, even each other. Whoever these individuals are, they probably see Darth Maul as another obstacle to overcome. However, in the off chance that they do wish to join with him, it would still be a bad idea to have that meeting of powers occur. If we can draw them out into the forefront without them ever finding him, we may have a chance to stop them before they grow too powerful.”

“So, you need Maul as bait,” Ahsoka said with a frown. As much as she disliked the Dathomirian, she didn’t agree with the current implication. The plan reminded her a bit too much of how she herself had used Maul for her own ends decades before; it made her uncomfortable. Over thirty years had passed since the Tribunal fell out of hyperspace, ripping itself apart, and she still hadn’t made peace with her role in all of it. She had been unfair to Maul then. She didn’t want to partake in that type of scenario again.

“That is a cruel way of phrasing things, my dear,” Admiral Ho’ror’te mused, “but accurate, nonetheless. I wish it were not so. This is an evil, perhaps, but a necessary evil.”

Ahsoka scoffed, her blue eyes flashing in anger. She crossed her arms across her chest and stepped back from the table, feeling insulted. “I’ve tried this tactic before, Admiral,” she said stonily, staring at the holoprojection. “It backfired on me then. It will do so again. This is going to blow up in your faces. I am sorry, but I won’t be a part of it.”

“There is no one else we can turn to in this instance,” the chancellor implored, her expression pained. “You asked our government to help you, Ahsoka, and we have done our best to do so. We are still trying to do so. When you reached out to me, you told me that you couldn’t do this alone. Now things have spiraled beyond our control – this is so much larger than merely apprehending a wanted criminal. This is something that in the past, the Jedi Council would have handled, but that institute is long gone. You and the Skywalkers are the only people who might even have a chance at making this work.”

“We are not getting Leia involved in this,” Han cut in gruffly. “Our family needs her.”

Ahsoka’s stance relaxed a bit, and she chewed on her bottom lip. She was beginning to feel guilty, torn between her desire to help and protect those she cared for, and her old feelings of remorse for a foe she failed with her actions in the past. Mon Mothma was right – she had been the one to dump her problem on the New Republic. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t known the scope of what that dilemma would snowball into at the time. The chancellor had been there for her when she needed it. How could she claim self-righteousness and refuse to return the favor? Over Maul? He had tried to kill her without hesitation on Tatooine. She had a brand-new burn scar on her right thigh to prove it, courtesy of his lightsaber.

And now that she thought about it: what about his weapon? What about those kyber crystals? She still needed to figure out a way to nullify their dark power. She wasn’t sure what her original plan had been once she got him to Chandrila. She had merely hoped that he would be locked up while she found a way to either work with him to purge the kyber or discover how to do so herself. Would being directly in charge of the Nightbrother be that different? It might actually work in her favor, having to be around Maul all the time, keeping him in check. Perhaps with time, she might even be able to strike up a deal with him regarding those bled gems. As she deliberated over this, she replayed Obi-Wan’s words in her mind: “You will find an artefact that is of great interest to these Dark Ones… They will seek out its power to fuel their cause.”

Hm, there was that, too. And hadn’t Maul hinted at this as well? Back on Tatooine, he had said that the crystals were a beacon to Dark Side acolytes, and even recently, when speaking to Sinjir, he had suggested that they constantly emanated dark energy. What if the reason he was being hunted, as Luke put it, was not necessarily to get to him, but rather to his kyber crystals? She felt that the truth lay somewhere in between, for Luke and Cracken had mentioned that the murders began over a standard year ago, when Maul’s cleaved saberstaff had still been buried in the sand, dormant.

Another thing Obi-Wan had mentioned to her was the belief he held that the Skywalker twins should not be allowed around the kyber crystals; at least, not yet. Han Solo’s insistence that his wife not be brought into the current situation had served to remind the Togruta of the old Jedi Master’s concern. If Ahsoka refused the current plan – she didn’t know the details of it yet but understood she would have a much more active role in regard to Maul’s captivity – she would essentially be forcing Anakin’s children to step in and take control instead. Them being around the Zabrak meant they would be in closer proximity to those Sith crystals and their corrupting influence, for she was certain that she would not be able to separate them from their master any time soon. What if Maul purposefully used them to hurt the siblings? She would never forgive him, but above all else, she would never forgive herself.

“Ahsoka?” Mon Mothma’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She hadn’t realized she had been silent for the past several minutes until she heard the chancellor’s voice. “Please reconsider, dear. Although, of course, we will never make you do something against your will.”

The ex-Padawan sighed and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of her nose tiredly. They were right. Luke and Mon were, Ho’ror’te and Ackbar and Solo, all of them. As much as she wanted to side with Hera, the more she ruminated over the situation, the more difficult it became to deny her continued involvement. Still, she didn’t want to repeat her mistakes from her youth. The years had been hard on her, on everyone who survived the Empire, but they had toughened her up, and made her wiser, allowing her to recognize her errors.

“Fine,” she said at last. “You have my full cooperation. I’ll do as you ask.” The Togruta turned and looked sharply up at the holo-recorder mounted above the viewing window, wanting to make sure the entire panel would see her face. “On one condition.”

“Anything, my dear,” Mon Mothma replied instantly. The others murmured in agreement.

“That’s exactly it,” Ahsoka stated. “I want everything.” To the ensuing confused silence, she elaborated, “Your best equipment, intel, clearance, funds, credentials – all of it. Including whatever files Alpha Blue has on these cases. If you want me to be in charge of Maul’s welfare and be able to keep him secured, I need whatever is available in my arsenal. I won’t fail in handling him, as I did before.” I won’t fail him, either, she added mentally, but knew better than to say aloud.

“She’s right,” Hera agreed. “I can supply one of my battle cruisers with the most recent military weaponry and technology. We should also provide Ahsoka with a security detail to help her wrangle the Sith if he gets out of hand. It is the least we can offer, after what we are asking her to do.”

“I appreciate your concern as well as your offer, Hera, but I think it will be best if I remain with my T-6. It’ll be a little difficult keeping Maul’s presence hidden – which is what we’re trying to do, if I interpreted your words correctly – if I’m travelling around with him in a fully armed New Republic naval vessel.” She shrugged. “I could do with upgraded shields, though. Your clan did a wonderful job in fixing the damage my shuttle took while in Tyrius, but I think it’s due for renovations. At the very least, it will need concussion shielding and a revamped radar tracking system.”

“All of this goes without saying, Ahsoka,” Admiral Tallon agreed. “As soon as we resolve this, I will personally make sure we get a team of astromechs working on your shuttle’s systems and hull.”

“As for the information you want from Alpha Blue,” Airen Cracken added, “that is unfortunately beyond our capacity to provide, even as the leaders of the military. That branch operates outside of the normal charter. However, I’ll get in touch with Drayson immediately after we’re done here. I have a feeling he will be quite interested in recruiting you into his organization. That may just be the quickest, most effective way to keep this Sith fellow tightly monitored.”

“In either case, this means you will need to officially come out of retirement, Agent Tano,” Admiral Ackbar added. “If we are to provide you with all the things you requested and require, you will need to be on the New Republic’s payroll.”

The Togruta sighed again. She had rather enjoyed being a freelancer for the past few years. She was able to make her own decisions, go as she pleased. For a moment, her thoughts drifted back to her friend Sabine Wren, and the sad smile the young Mandalorian had given her when they’d parted ways. It seemed she had reached that point of no return Sabine had mentioned. With this new undertaking, Ahsoka was unsure of when she would see the young woman or Ezra Bridger again. Well, there was no point in lamenting herself over any of it. She had to trust in the will of the Force, and she held to hope that she would eventually be reunited with her friends once more. “I’ll provide you with my most current identification records and credentials,” she said with a nod, “as well as any records you need from my dealings as far back as I have them. I keep travel log records for 13 standard months, as well as cargo invoices and the like. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it to you.”

Once they got the basics out of the way, the High Command dismissed her, allowing her to return to the others in the hallway. They told her that they would only take a few moments to draft up the new charges and plea bargain for Maul, and that she and the others would be summoned back to the meeting room shortly. Ahsoka bowed curtly and walked out of the room, unsure of whether to inform Sinjir and Capel about the most recent developments. Although the panel had not expressly prohibited her from doing so, she was uneasy about being the one to break the news to them within earshot of the Zabrak.

“Are you alright?” Velus asked as soon as she approached him, trying to maintain an aloof appearance. Apparently, she wasn’t very good at it. From a few meters’ distance, within his cell, Ahsoka could feel Maul’s gaze upon her. He was obviously curious, and she even felt anxiety spike in his aura, as though he had forgotten to keep his emotions guarded.

“Not really,” she muttered in reply. “Things aren’t going to resolve themselves in a way I would like, but I suppose I should have been expecting something like this to develop. I don’t want to go into details now,” she arched an eye-ridge in the Dathomirian’s direction, “but I’m sure you suspect where this is heading. Maybe you even saw it coming before I did, and perhaps I should have seen it sooner, as well. I think I didn’t because of my own wishful thinking. In either case, we’ll all be called back to the meeting room soon, including Maul. The High Command will make the details known then.”

Sinjir hummed in assent and nodded sympathetically. He tilted his head in the direction of the occupied cell. “He’s been a lot quieter since you left. He even sat down for a bit, but he didn’t stay down for long. Even if you hadn’t told Semler and I about that little trick, I think he would have dismissed us anyway. It’s like he’s turning things over in his head. He’s thinking, trying to find a way out of this. It’s a bit creepy, how smart he is. Do you think he’ll actually manage to beat the system?”

Ahsoka looked thoughtfully over at the Nightbrother. He was no longer looking at her, and instead had his back to them, hands clasped behind his back, as usual, his face tilted up at the ceiling. He was holding himself very still, but his Life Force was swirling erratically around him. It seemed as though he hadn’t managed to keep himself cut off from the Cosmic Force for too long. The stress of the entire ordeal must’ve really been digging at him, then. Perhaps more so because of what Ahsoka had mentioned to him before leaving to speak with the High Command. “I’m not sure that’s what he’s focused on right now,” she murmured quietly.

The Togruta calmly walked up to the energy shielding of the cell. Sinjir remained behind, still a bit hesitant to approach the Zabrak after his past interactions with him. Semler Capel was hanging back as well, speaking quietly to the sergeant who had escorted Ahsoka to the interrogation room. The pair eyed her warily as the former Jedi stood directly behind Maul, the dual shields stopping her from getting any closer. As she had done on Tatooine, Ahsoka gently unfurled her own aura and reached out to the Nightbrother, pushing softly against his defenses, almost like a caress. His shoulders immediately hunched up around his ears and he growled softly. He didn’t turn to look at her, so she couldn’t see his face, but she knew a snarl had taken over his features. It didn’t matter. If she was to be keeping him by her side for the foreseeable future – a type of personal warden, she supposed – then it was best if she tried to make peace with him starting immediately. Their relationship was already sure to be a tenuous one to begin with.

“You okay, old man?” she whispered.

“Do not pretend to care,” he grumbled roughly. His annoyance was half-hearted at best, however, and she didn’t register his trademark anger taking over his aura this time. His attitude was strangely reminiscent of how he had been soon after she shot him: pained and frustrated, yet grudgingly patient and passive. Lacking hatred or malevolent intent, and beyond it all, tired. He was still wounded, she realized. Perhaps not in any physical sense that could be detected, but he was hurting. She could sense his pain through the Force. That word came to mind again: mourning.

In her memory, she heard the furred avian daemon chirruping morosely as it cradled something in its clawed feet, huddling down over it while it kept its back to her defensively. Exactly as Maul was standing now. And just like in her vision, Ahsoka couldn’t reach him. She might never be able to, she realized, even if the energy shields weren’t there. It made her sad to know that the Zabrak chose to carry his burdens alone. She got the impression that it was all he knew how to do. He shuttered himself off, even from the Force, seeing any approach as an assault. Perhaps his experiences had only reinforced this notion. She wanted to change that but didn’t know how.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated lamely. She didn’t know what else to say. All she knew was that she was sorry. For all of it, even the parts she’d had no control over, which did feel like everything, at this point.

The growl in his voice was more pronounced than before when he replied, “I already told you that you should not apologize. I do not need it, and do not care to hear one from you.”

“Well,” Ahsoka said, trying her best not to act defensively, although she did feel a bit hurt, “if you won’t accept my apology, then at least accept my condolences.”

At this, the Nightbrother remained absolutely still. Even his turbulent Life Force quietened, as though shocked. Like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on him, freezing him in place. Ahsoka knew he hadn’t been expecting her to catch on. “I don’t know who is behind all of this, or what they want with you,” she said, keeping her voice soft and kind, “but I understand that they’ve hurt you. I’m sorry they killed your friends.”

She half-expected the Zabrak to wrap himself in dark anger immediately, as it seemed to be his go-to tactic when he felt threatened in some way. Instead, he shuddered, almost shrank into himself a bit before he caught himself and straightened up. He was silent for a long time after that, refusing to turn and look at her. “The Tusken were not my friends,” he finally answered bitterly. “Save your pity, part-timer. I want nothing from you.”

Maul had only ever referred to her in such a manner once before, back when they ran into one another on Malachor. He had been churlish and condescending then. He was cold and dismissive now. Ahsoka was a little surprised that this time his words had some bite. He had actually hurt her feelings. She didn’t know what to make of that.

Fortunately, before she could dwell on any of it further, the sergeant commanding the guard squad barked an order to his men. Ahsoka hadn’t been paying attention to them at all, but she realized quickly that the High Command had called for all of them to report back to the meeting room. The soldiers closest to Maul’s cell instantly brought their weapons up to the ready position, aiming their barrels straight at the Dathomirian while Semler Capel stepped up to the entranceway controls and lowered the shields.

“Please come quietly, Mister Maul,” she said, trying not to look uncomfortable. However, Ahsoka could tell the woman was afraid. “Things will only become worse for you if you act difficult now.”

The Zabrak made no move to obey. Ahsoka wasn’t even sure he’d heard the officer, so she prodded his defenses again through the Force, not so gently this time. “Maul,” she said pointedly, arms crossed across her chest. Without a word, the Dathomirian turned and approached the warrant officer, purposefully not looking at the former Jedi. “Lead the way, my dear,” he said quietly, gesturing down the hallway with one hand before returning it to his back. Semler Capel blushed a little and appeared uncertain, but she glanced at the Defense Fleet soldiers and nodded. The squad formed ranks around her and the Zabrak and they all began to move down the hallway in this manner: the woman leading Maul, with one line of soldiers on each side of them. Sinjir and Ahsoka took up the rear and followed.

Ahsoka was a bit surprised at the Nightbrother’s sudden change in attitude. She had almost been sure he would have made some snide remark to the blonde or any of the other soldiers. He had acted nearly amicable with her, before she left to speak with High Command. She knew this shift had something to do with what she had mentioned to him before leaving. He had seemed nonplussed at first when she mentioned the dragon, but then she had seen something akin to realization appear in his eyes seconds later. She was beginning to worry; perhaps it would have been best if she hadn’t said anything. As much as she didn’t like a mocking, condescending Maul, she liked a brooding one even less. It didn’t bode well.

Rather than crowd everyone into the elevator – sizeable as it was – Ahsoka accompanied Capel, Maul, the sergeant and three DF soldiers on the first lift. Sinjir remained behind to take the next one up along with the remaining squad. He didn’t look comfortable with the notion of staying behind, but he understood the Togruta’s reasoning and didn’t argue.

Once they were all back in the conference room, Capel stood with Maul in the center before the panel while Ahsoka and Sinjir returned to their original seats. The sergeant and another soldier remained inside the room, with the remainder of the squad standing guard just outside the door. No one looked at ease upon seeing the Zabrak standing before them, unrestrained. He should have been belligerent, or at the very least, amused by everyone’s somber and slightly fearful expressions, Ahsoka thought. Yet instead, he just seemed irritable and tired, and showed no indication whatsoever of wanting to speak out of turn.

The High Command wasted no time getting straight to the point, with Admiral Ackbar reading out the civil suit the chancellor was filing against Maul for repayment of services. Because it was such a large amount of money, if she wished to press charges for theft – in the case that he refused to return the funds by the time she allocated – they would go through, and he would be incarcerated immediately.

“The plaintiff has stated that she wishes for the credit to be deposited into a special account before this standard business day ends,” the Mon Calamari read off his datapad. Ahsoka felt her face and lekku burn a bit. She knew exactly what Mon Mothma was doing. On the off-chance that Maul had funds somewhere, stashed away, she wanted that money immediately, knowing it most likely came from unsavory places, and more importantly, illegal ones. By giving Maul such a short deadline, it would prevent the former kingpin from trying to erase the cyber trail that would lead back to his underground dealings. Meaning, the New Republic would have proof of the Zabrak’s criminality and could pursue further legal action. Maul was smart; he was bound to know this, which ensured he would not try that tactic. Mon Mothma really was pinning him between a rock and a hard place. Ahsoka didn’t see how Maul could possibly wriggle out of this one.

Then came the plea deal, which Ahsoka had also been eager to learn the details of. In a nutshell, the High Command wanted Maul to work for them in an unofficial capacity. They wanted him as a liaison between the New Republic government and the underground in an effort to stymie the burgeoning growth of new syndicates and gangs throughout the galaxy since the fall of the Empire.

“As much as we hate to admit this,” Admiral Tallon explained, “unchecked criminal activity was at an all-time low during the early years of Palpatine’s rule, and we can’t credit all of that to the Empire’s harsh trade policies. We are aware of the role the Shadow Collective played in maintaining order, especially in areas beyond the Mid Rim. We know that was your doing, as a means to undermine your former master’s plans. Even the Empire was never able to penetrate the far reaches of the Outer Rim and Wild Space, where cartels such as the Crimson Dawn were most powerful. Part of the reason we are so sure about your hand in all this is because that stronghold began to crumble around 8 BBY, when even the spy networks of the Rebellion lost track of you. Some of us have believed you dead since then.”

“As have most of those syndicates you mentioned,” the Zabrak replied curtly. “I will be of little to no use to you in the manner you wish.”

“I doubt that is true,” Airen Cracken cut in. “As the mere mention of your epithet was enough to make a Rodian warlord quaver in his ill-gotten throne.”

Ahsoka saw that Maul wanted to snap back with a response, but he held his tongue. Instead, he merely frowned and glared at the panel.

“Our proposal is simple enough,” Admiral Ackbar continued. “You help the New Republic wrestle control of the Outer Rim and beyond from the underground, and for every sector that is secured, we determine the amount of credit satisfied in your debt to the Mothmas. You would remain free, so long as you keep a tracer upon your person at all times. And just to make sure you do not attempt anything underhanded, or to slip back into the criminal world, Ahsoka Tano will be accompanying you wherever you go.”

At this, Maul scoffed, which quickly evolved into a chortle.

“Your other option is to deny this temporary servitude – which is your right – but you will remain incarcerated for an indeterminate amount of time. Perhaps even the rest of your life, if the judicial system so determines based on the amount you owe.”

“What do you decide?” Adar Tallon asked impassively.

“Yes, please,” Maul said with a grin, to which several members of the panel heaved a sigh of relief. “I accept your proposal.” Only the chancellor’s advisors, Ahsoka, Hera Syndulla, and Semler Capel looked apprehensive at his agreement.

“Very well,” Admiral Ackbar said. “We will submit the proper documentation to –”

“May I be sent back to my cell now?” the Dathomirian interrupted.

“There should be no reason to,” Admiral Tallon began hesitantly. “Once we are finished here, we can find some other place to accommodate you after we have you fitted with your monitoring device.”

“Oh, but that will not be necessary,” Maul said dismissively.

“Mister Maul, you said –” began his counsel, standing at his side.

“What I said was that I accepted their proposal,” he stated calmly, looking at the woman with a small smile. “And I do accept. The second one.” He turned back to look at the panel of commanders before him, the fire in his eyes replaced by ice. “I will take incarceration, thank you. So, may I be dismissed now? I grew so used to that charming little space, that I rather miss it already. It must be the ambient lighting.” To the stunned silence in the room, he added, “Do not believe me such a fool as to not understand what your true intentions are.”

He glared at Luke’s hologram specifically. “All of the mysterious murders connected to me took place in the Outer Rim. You said yourselves that the closest they ever got to the Core was that stranded pirate ship along Entralla. They never made it to the Mid Rim. You want me out there in Wild Space, not to secure any sector from criminals, but to draw out this new threat. We all know they are focused on me. It makes sense that they will follow wherever I go, which means that by having me in the furthest reaches of civilization, you keep them away from the Core Worlds while you figure out how to engage them.”

“Oh, I am sorry if you got the impression that we were trying to hide that detail from you,” Airen Cracken said sarcastically. “I thought that went without saying.”

“You are lowlife scum that isn’t worth our resources,” Hera cut in acidly. “I would gladly sacrifice your pitiful existence for the chance at capturing these evildoers.”

“I can see that,” Maul replied. “You seem to have no qualms in sacrificing your dear friend, either.”

At this, Ahsoka saw Hera blush deeply, evident despite the hue of her holoprojection. “I can fend for myself,” the Togruta said tersely, her hands moving down to grip her saber hilts. She didn’t need the Zabrak making Hera feel any worse than she was sure the Twi’lek already did. Hera was staunchly against the enterprise, after all, and precisely because she valued Ahsoka’s wellbeing.

The Nightbrother ignored her comment, keeping his attention fixated on the panel. “I would rather remain in that small cell and wait. We all know those hunting me will reach Chandrila soon. If they have been looking so fervently for me, they will find a way to reach me, no matter how tight you think your security is in this fortress. Nothing you have can stand in the way of the Dark Side. It will happen soon.” He smiled, but his expression remained frigid. “Did you know that the scent of gore was still fresh in the air when I found the Tusken? I missed the kill by hours. These acolytes know where I am. It is only a matter of time before you will begin to see these thorns blooming all over Hanna City. And I, for one, welcome it.”

“Do you know what they want with you?” Luke asked suddenly, his blue eyes intense.

“If I do, I am certainly not telling any of you.”

“I suspect I have an inkling as to what they might be after,” the Jedi Master said. “If your plan is to wait for your doom in one place, sacrificing hundreds in the process, I suggest you rethink your strategy.”

“You are leaving me with but two choices in this matter, Skywalker. I am simply choosing that which works best to my advantage.”

“And what is the alternative you suggest?” Ho’ror’te asked, his brow feathers raised inquiringly while he interlaced long fingers attentively.

“The same thing I advised Lady Tano when we met in the desert: continue on with your lives, pretend you never saw me.”

“You want us to set you free‽” General Ria scoffed. “That’s rich.”

“Force wielders should deal with matters of the Force. And this is a matter between those who walk in the Dark. You cannot interfere. The most beneficial action you can take – for the sake of your government and people – is to let me slip back into obscurity, where I can deal with this threat to me unhindered.”

“Who are they?” demanded Luke. “You know something about them; I can sense it.”

Ahsoka was sure Maul wouldn’t answer. He stared long and hard at the sandy-haired young man, his mouth set firmly into a scowl. However, after a few seconds, he bit out with a growl: “Usurpers. Carrion feeders deluded into believing they are predators. Soon, I will render them into nothing but dust and ash.”

“Under no circumstances are we granting you unconditional freedom,” Mon Mothma stated flatly. “Whether we have the evidence currently or not, there are crimes you must answer to. We will not rest until justice is brought upon you.”

“Justice?” Maul echoed sarcastically. “What is ‘justice,’ if not vengeance in civil trappings? What you are seeking is retribution for the ills I have caused you, Madam Mothma. Do not pretend you would not take pleasure in knowing I was sacrificed for the sake of this political house of cards you have endeavored to construct.”

For the first time since she’d known her, Ahsoka saw the Chandrilan allow true emotion to show through her usually serene features. The chancellor’s eyes sparked in anger, and she frowned, her skin flushing to a deep pink the likes of which the Togruta had never seen on her. Her Life Force – muted though it was compared to those with Force sensitivity – ignited strongly nonetheless, to where the ex-Jedi felt it crackle around the chancellor’s form like fireworks. She opened her mouth to answer, but the Zabrak didn’t allow her the opportunity, reiterating harshly: “I will not be subjected to the machinations of a governmental structure that is ready to crumble, becoming cannon fodder in a battle that cannot be won. If bodies are to fall, let them be those of your citizenry instead.”

“Selfish vermin,” Mon Mothma managed through clenched teeth. “You always did only look out for yourself.”

Maul smiled coldly up at her. “You know me best, Madam,” he said, his golden eyes glinting.

Before the situation between the two could get any worse, Luke addressed the Dathomirian again. “There is one thing I would like you to consider before you make your final decision,” he said. “One person, I should say.”

The Nightbrother raised an eye-ridge at the young general. “Oh?” he asked with disinterest. “Who would that be? You, Master Jedi?”

“Ahsoka Tano.”

At his words, Maul’s other brow shot up. He seemed genuinely surprised, which was precisely how the Togruta felt. She too, turned to Luke questioningly.

“Whoever is hunting you is killing everyone in their way. The path that leads to you is littered with tortured bodies overgrown with these thorns. Before these acolytes get to you, they will reach her first.”

If the Togruta hadn’t been hyper-focused on her friend, she might have caught the Zabrak’s furtive glance her way. As it were, she still didn’t quite understand what Luke was getting at. She had already figured out that she would be in danger, whether she travelled around with Maul or not. She was not likely to remain on the sidelines, watching the galaxy burn and be ravaged by this new threat. If there was something she was ready for, it was a fight. She was not afraid, nor did she know why Maul should care if she got involved in the conflict.

“She carries your kyber crystals,” the Jedi Master continued. “From the previous testimony you offered Advisor Velus as well as Ahsoka’s own, we know they are emitting an energy signature through the Dark Side even though they are bound to you. Meaning you are now much easier to find. Or rather, she is.”

“That is easily solved,” Maul replied off-handedly, although the slight crease along his forehead betrayed his sentiments. He was uneasy; Ahsoka could see as much. He turned to look at her and said, “The kaiburr belong with me. As I cautioned you before, Lady Tano, it would be in your best interest if you returned them.”

The former Padawan kept her gaze steady. In your best interest, maybe, she had told him on Tatooine. She held to the same belief now. “Pound sand, old man,” she growled.

“Still not interested in giving me a fighting chance? You are cruel.”

Ahsoka scoffed. “You are more than capable without a weapon,” she replied coolly. She turned back to Luke, met his gaze, and understood. She nodded to him slightly, remembering the words hissed by the bird-bat: My prey.

“There’s no need for you to worry over me, General Skywalker,” she told the young man, although they both knew she was really addressing the Zabrak. “I can handle my own. In fact, even if Gramps here won’t work with your plan, I’m still on board. Chances are, ever since the bled kyber awakened, these Dark Side users probably believe Maul activated them on purpose, and that he’s in possession of them now. The best course of action is to take them as far away from the Core Worlds as possible, based on the population levels alone. If I take the crystals with me, those hunters will give chase. By the time they realize I’m not Maul, you will have had ample time to take him far from Chandrila, to another undisclosed, secure location.”

“You seem to have forgotten that I have reclaimed those crystals,” Maul snapped. “The kaiburr are connected to me now. Neither they nor I will allow you to put much distance between us.”

“Then you had better come along, old man,” Ahsoka said flippantly. “I am not staying anywhere near the Core.”

“I will not agree to this inane plan!” the Dathomirian stated resolutely. “You may be the type to eagerly become the sacrificial happabore for the sake of a code of honor that has long been proven to be impractical, but I do not share the ethos of the defunct Jedi. I will not allow –”

“You won’t allow?” Airen Cracken sneered. “What power do you think you have in these negotiations?”

Maul let out a low growl, and the lights in the room, along with the holoprojections of the military commanders, flickered precariously as the Nightbrother flexed his aura. Ahsoka felt his anger rising through the Force but recognized that there was an underlying reason for his ire. Something was preoccupying him; there was a sense of desperation that was feeding his temper. From what felt like a great distance away, the Togruta felt a source of pressure in the Force, and she heard her purified kyber crystals start to hum sadly in recognition. Maul’s bled gems were beginning to resonate. She didn’t know where exactly her shuttle was docked within the gargantuan citadel, but the fact that she could feel the crystals’ power reverberating through the Cosmic Force was not a good sign. Because the Zabrak had taken control over them again, his emotional state was intertwined with their power. They responded to his distress, calling out to him, yearning to be near him. His despair became theirs as well.

Breathing deeply, Ahsoka did the first thing that came naturally to her – she reached down and wrapped her fingers around the hilts of her lightsabers, encouraging her crystals to commune with Maul’s. This idea would have never occurred to her if the Nightbrother hadn’t mentioned during his testimony that Ahsoka’s purified kyber had been crucial in waking the bled gems. He had insinuated that her kyber and his were kindred and had a strange understanding of each other. Perhaps she could use this to her advantage. Because her bond with her own crystals was so strong, all the former Jedi had to do was suggest that her kyber try and assuage the anxiety the Sith crystals were reverberating with, to quell their dark power.

They responded immediately, their song intensifying until Ahsoka could hear it ringing in her montrals as surely as if her crystals had suddenly developed mouths and were chaunting aloud. The ex-Padawan closed her eyes serenely, felt her kyber’s energy reach out through the Cosmic Force until their pure light touched their counterparts. The bled Sith gems resisted the contact at first, but Ahsoka insisted, keeping her own aura calm and soothing. Her crystals resonated with her will, washing over the tension caused by the scarlet kyber until their furious buzzing began to subside. Ahsoka was so lost in her meditation exercise that she didn’t pay attention to the goings on of the proceedings.

Apparently, Maul hadn’t either.

When she opened her eyes at last, it was to Admiral Tallon’s exasperated chastising of the Zabrak, demanding if he was even listening to them. But Maul’s attention was focused completely on her. He was staring at her, pupils dilated, and jaw gone slightly slack. His expression didn’t denote surprise so much as… wonder. He was transfixed. She realized that, of course, he must have felt her interaction with his crystals, and was probably as puzzled as she should have felt, did she not have complete faith in the will of the Force. Turning her gaze from him to the panel, she caught Luke observing her, too. The young Jedi Master looked into her eyes and smiled knowingly at her. Ahsoka felt a blush come over her lekku and cheeks at her friend’s approval. It was as though there were a warm, glowing web linking her to both Force users, despite the fact that Luke was not even physically nearby.

“Agent Tano, are you sure you are willing to go through with this?” Admiral Ackbar asked, interrupting that strange moment in the Force. Whatever connection she had been feeling to Luke and Maul dissipated quickly as she focused on the present conversation. “The situation will be harrowing, especially so if you insist on undertaking it alone.”

“I’m ready to depart as soon as my shuttle is,” she answered promptly.

“Stubborn idiot,” snarled the Nightbrother, eyes narrowing.

“So you’ve said,” Ahsoka replied with a shrug, then grinned at him. “Part of my charm.” She looked back to the commanders, her features becoming serious as she addressed them. “We need to proceed with your plan as scheduled, and the sooner, the better. There is one thing Maul is right about, and that is that these Dark Side hunters are close. They may already be in Bromea, for all we know. I would need to depart before the day is up if I am to lead them away from the capital. Even so, the Defense Fleet should take all precautions, perhaps setting up a protective grid around the planet, at least until we know for a fact that the danger has passed, and these acolytes are focused on me. If, as Maul stated, the bled kyber resist being separated from him, that might even work in my favor. My guess is that they will call out to him through the Force, and whoever is seeking him are likely to feel that energy, too. That will definitely get their attention.”

“The kaiburr will not merely call to me, as you put it, Lady Tano,” the Zabrak snapped at her, glowering. “They will fight you more strongly with every klick you put between us. You’ll be lucky to get within a parsec of Chandrila before the pain in your skull causes you to lose control of your ship and crash.”

“I’ve handled the headaches you’ve given me just fine until now, old man,” Ahsoka grumbled. However, she hadn’t forgotten about the splitting, searing pain that had gone through her brain when she’d first handled Maul’s weapon. That ache had radiated down from her head to infect her entire body. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she also knew she had survived that interaction. With the help of her crystals, she could do so again. She faced the panel determinedly. “I’ll manage somehow. Don’t worry about me. Just make sure you safeguard Maul. Whoever is behind this murder spree will make their way to him eventually.”

“You cannot simply allow her to leave!” the Zabrak hissed at the military leaders. He had unclasped his hands from behind his back and now had them balled into fists at his side.

“Agent Tano has the right to decide her own path,” Adar Tallon retorted. “Just as you do.”

“Besides,” General Cracken added dismissively, “Ahsoka Tano is not employed by the New Republic. Her service with the Rebellion ended long ago. She is free to do as she pleases.” Ahsoka knew this wasn’t entirely true, as the High Command had planned to have her take up active duty within the military structure. All of it hinged on whether Maul agreed to the plan or not, of course. She wasn’t sure how his refusal would change things regarding her status. She had to assume that the New Republic didn’t really have a need for her services if she wasn’t in charge of handling the Dathomirian.

“While we are on the subject of safeguards,” Hera added with a thoughtful tilt of her head. “We should probably do something about the Gauntlet. Is it still currently stationed in Hanna City?”

“No,” Mon Mothma said with a shake of her head. “All of the Kom’rk-class starfighters were transferred to Hosnian Prime to be used for training at the academy. As much as I appreciate Lady Kryze’s gift to the New Republic, there was no need for me to have a personal fleet of Mandalorian vessels at my disposal.”

“You should recall it from service, then,” the Twi’lek stated. “We don’t know how much information these mysterious attackers have obtained on Darth Maul, but if they’ve already tracked him all the way to Tatooine, they must have learned that his old ship was taken into service by the Rebellion. Although it’s gotten a new paint scheme since then, I’m afraid that they will locate it, nevertheless. That entire flight crew might be in danger.”

Ahsoka noticed Maul’s eyes widen as he realized which starfighter Hera was referring to. His prized flagship, formerly known as the Nightbrother. From what Sabine had told her, Ezra and Chopper had confiscated the vessel after Maul had gone to Tatooine seeking Obi-Wan. By taking it with them, they had essentially stranded the Zabrak on the desert world.

“Hm, you may be right, General Syndulla,” the chancellor replied. “We must take all precautions.”

“Such a shame,” Hera sighed, “as it’s a fine vessel, but perhaps, for the safety of all involved, it’s best if it is scrapped for parts.” Ahsoka could see that in reality, Hera didn’t think it was much of a loss at all. She got the distinct impression that her friend was bringing the Mandalorian craft up on purpose, in order to antagonize the Dathomirian. And, well, it worked.

“That ship belongs to me,” Maul growled, taking a step forward. The moment he did, the two DF soldiers brought their blasters up and aimed straight at his head.

“Not a step further!” the sergeant warned. Poor man did his best to keep his voice steady, but Ahsoka noticed the strain. Maul didn’t so much as glance in the pair’s direction, keeping his attention focused on the High Command.

“The Nightbrother was stolen from me by that brat, Ezra Bridger,” he rumbled, lips pulled back into a snarl. “One more thing the Rebellion took illegitimately, I am sure. It should be returned to me at once!”

“According to the Mandalorians, it was you who illegally seized that vessel,” Mon Mothma corrected, “when you forcefully took over the Death Watch.”

“I assumed leadership as per their own customs,” Maul snapped. “And only after my brother and I were betrayed by Vizsla first.”

“Regardless of how the situation came about,” Gial Ackbar retorted, “it is the winners who decide how history is written, as you well know. And by all accounts, you lost Mandalore during the Siege. That ship, as well as the entire fleet previously belonging to the Death Watch became property of the new governance of the planet. Currently, that is Clan Kryze. It was Lady Bo-Katan, their leader, who gifted these ships to the New Republic after the signing of the Concordance. You have no claim over the starfighter.”

“However, perhaps we can reach an understanding,” the Chandrilan added, leaning forward in her seat. Everyone looked to her curiously. An idea had obviously formed in the chancellor’s mind, and they were all eager to hear it. Maul frowned, but he too, appeared interested despite himself. “If you reconsider working for me,” she began, “I can arrange things to where the Mandalorian vessel is included in the bargain.”

The Zabrak scoffed and rolled his eyes. He was obviously not convinced. “If what you stated is true regarding the current status of that starfighter, I presume that it is not your personal property, Madam, but rather that of the New Republic. I do not believe you corrupt to where you would confiscate government property merely to tantalize a lowly felon.”

“I don’t have to resort to using my position of power with the government in order to secure the ship,” Mon Mothma replied, a small smile dancing upon her lips. “I am a very wealthy individual, as you should know by now, having seen the price of the treatment I was able to afford for you.”

“Hm,” Maul grunted, begrudgingly impressed. “What will happen to the ship in the meantime?”

“General Syndulla is right,” Adar Tallon answered. “That starfighter must be pulled from active duty. If the chancellor purchases it, it can be stored in a secure facility until the time she determines.”

“And during this time…” the renegade Dark Sider reasoned, “I assume it will be in a private garage, with the tightest security available?”

“Correct,” the Chandrilan replied.

“And there will be a surcharge for every day it is there, which will then be added to the amount I owe you, Madam?”

Mon Mothma smiled again, a bit more broadly this time. “Exactly,” she said. “You can accept these new provisos and hope to one day reclaim your freedom and your ship, or you may choose to carry out whatever sentence will be handed down to you in court. Do as we ask, and you have the possibility of one day having the Gauntlet back in your possession. Refuse, and I will have it sent to Korad or Bracca before the week is up.”

The Zabrak growled deeply, obviously frustrated. Ahsoka felt his aura shimmer again, but he made sure to keep it contained this time. “You drive a hard bargain, Madam Mothma,” he said in the end, glaring up at the chancellor. “I accept your terms.” He bit out the words, as though it cost him dearly to utter them.

Ahsoka’s brow shot up in surprise. Maul had been so adamant in his refusal, that she had been sure nothing could make him change his mind. She wondered what could possibly be so special about that vessel that he would decide to comply. She was sure that with all the credit he likely had stashed in the black market – there was no way she believed he didn’t have wealth deposited throughout the galaxy – he could have afforded to buy any damn ship he wanted. She knew the only reason he couldn’t pay off the chancellor directly was because that money likely had blood all over it, and the New Republic would be able to prove it.

The rest of the panel, too, seemed shocked by this turn of events. However, they wasted no time in sealing the deal: likely afraid Maul would change his mind again. Admiral Ackbar finished going over the official terms of the plea, but by that point, the Dathomirian seemed bored and uninterested, standing back while allowing Semler Capel to step up to the table and handle the legalese with the High Command. Admiral Tallon made changes to the information in his datapad for what seemed to Ahsoka like the hundredth time. Poor man – she didn’t envy his job one bit. When they were done, Maul was sent away, escorted by the armed soldiers in order to get his information registered. It was decided he would require a preliminary physical examination to be put on record along with the medical file Ahsoka had obtained from the Rodians. He was also to be fitted with a monitoring device before being handed over to the Togruta.

Before walking out of the room, Maul beckoned her over, and Ahsoka, feeling slightly on edge, complied, nonetheless.

“Never do that again,” he hissed at her under his breath as she approached him.

“Oh?” She was genuinely puzzled. His tone and expression made her apprehensive, so she crossed her arms over her chest defensively.

“Interfere with the kaiburr,” he clarified with a growl.

“What’s the matter, Gramps?” she jeered. “Afraid I can control them better than you?”

“Fool,” he spat. “I hope you know our game is still on. I will be trying to kill you at every opportunity, Lady Tano.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

He flashed his canines at her with a wicked grin, then he was gone, ushered away by the soldiers and Officer Capel, who looked warily at them both before following after Maul. She looked absolutely exhausted, which was understandable, based on everything the young soldier had been through. Ahsoka watched them go with a heavy sigh. She was certain that she was going to end up looking just like Semler Capel before long.

If she survived this ordeal.

Chapter Text

It was nearly lunchtime when the meeting finally concluded. Like the Zabrak, Ahsoka was also required to file paperwork with Admiral Tallon so the High Command could send her information over to the NRI, who would then pass on her credentials to Alpha Blue and await word from their director, Admiral Hiram Drayson. If General Cracken was correct in his earlier assessment, the most likely thing was that Ahsoka would be asked to join their ranks. She hoped that turned out to be the case: a clandestine branch of the government where she could operate anonymously was as good an outcome as she could hope for. Especially considering that she would have Maul tagging along. Before taking his leave, Luke Skywalker informed the Togruta that he would be getting in touch with her soon.

Once the conference was over and all of the holoprojectors had terminated their connections, the five remaining present decided to eat together. Mon Mothma didn’t quite feel up to eating in the mess hall, as she didn’t want the military personnel to see her so exhausted and disheveled, but she didn’t want to remain in the meeting room, either. Admiral Tallon solved the problem by inviting the chancellor and the others to his office, which, although simple in adornment, was still large enough to accommodate all of them.

The meal was decent and filling, though it was nothing extraordinary, as the chancellor refused to have anything special prepared just because of who she was. They would eat whatever the soldiers on duty were having that day, she insisted. All were quiet while they ate, with Mon Mothma casting worried looks in Ahsoka’s direction constantly, and Adar Tallon apologizing profusely for the position they had placed her in. “If that cretin hurts you or puts you in any kind of danger, I will never be able to face General Koon when I cross over,” he muttered, even though Ahsoka assured him several times that she would be alright. The Togruta had reached over and squeezed the older man’s hand: it was weathered, yet strong, just as she imagined Master Plo’s would have been if he were still alive.

They finished their meal, then the chancellor and her advisors took their leave. Mon Mothma said she needed to inform her daughter of the outcome of the negotiations. “She will not like this turn of events,” the older woman sighed. “Neither do I, but there is nothing to be done about it now.” Before she, Sondiv and Sinjir took an armored transport back towards the capital, the Chandrilan made Ahsoka promise that she would stop by the dacha before she left in order to have dinner with them, as well as to pick up the wardrobe she had been gifted. The Togruta agreed to do so, and asked Mon Mothma to assure Lieda that she would be fine.

Afterwards, the former spy accompanied Admiral Tallon to the mechanic hangars where her T-6 shuttle had been moved. There was a crew of astromechs already working on her hull: replacing the durasteel plating with a much stronger duramentium shell. Ahsoka was shocked.

“The body itself will now be enclosed in duramentium. The wings we will cover with hybrid plexisteel. It’s just as strong as durasteel, but lighter. And, as you know –”

“Is more resilient to laser fire,” Ahsoka concluded in awe. She turned to the admiral bashfully. “I know I stated that I needed all available resources, but this –” she gestured at all the welding the various automatons were performing, “this is too much! These materials are expensive, difficult to come by, especially now that worlds are still trying to rebuild after the Empire ravaged them.”

“Ahsoka,” Adar Tallon placed a hand on the Togruta’s shoulder and squeezed. “My dear, you are going to need all of it. Even if you had not asked for anything from us at all, we would have still gone through with these modifications. These implementations are not only for your protection, although that is my primary concern. Remember who is travelling with you from now on. Even though no one outside High Command can know this, your ship is now essentially a mobile prison.”

At the admiral’s words, the ex-Jedi felt her stomach clench. She didn’t like the thought of her shuttle becoming some sort of vault. She had never truly seen it as a home, per se, but knowing what its new purpose would be made it feel rather claustrophobic. Especially knowing that the person she would be locked inside with was out for her blood. She tried to swallow down the sense of doom that was blossoming in her stomach. It was just as the chancellor had stated: there was nothing to be done about it anymore. This was the best course of action. Possibly the only course of action available to any of them.

Admiral Tallon excused himself so he could go check up on how things were proceeding on Maul’s end. Ahsoka absentmindedly listened as he promised to keep an eye on the modifications on her ship. He asked her if she wished to go wait somewhere else until the upgrades were complete, perhaps take a tour of the capital, but Ahsoka refused. She had things to sort out inside her shuttle in order to make accommodations for the Zabrak who would be joining her before the day was up. The naval commander told her to make use of any of the astromechs milling about if she required any help. Ahsoka merely nodded. Then, setting her shoulders determinedly, she boarded her T-6.

She was a little surprised to see more astromechs inside her shuttle. Two were working in the med-bay area, and three others were welding something in her cockpit. They had removed the extra passenger chairs behind the captain and copilot’s seats in order to make room for an extra cabinet. The frames for the large sliding doors that separated the small command room of the shuttle from the med-bay and maintenance pit had also been removed. Ahsoka didn’t mind, as she had gotten rid of the doors long ago anyway to make the shuttle seem more spacious, but she was curious. When she asked the nearest droid as to what the internal modifications were about, they answered her in binary that the door frame was going to be replaced with a double layer of energy shielding, similar to what was available in the detention cells. The Togruta understood the implication immediately: energy shields couldn’t be cut through with a lightsaber the way solid doors could. They were being put in place so Maul wouldn’t try to mutiny and take control of the ship. The cabinet they were installing in place of one of the passenger seats housed the power source for the shields, and the astromech welding inside the cockpit was installing the controls for said shielding. Ahsoka sighed. Already, her small shuttle was beginning to feel more oppressive.

The droids in the medical bay were upgrading and expanding the area, having brought in a bigger cabinet to replace the small one where she kept basic first aid (mainly bacta patches and stim serum vials, really). They were stocking the shelves inside with large, clunky-looking instruments. Ahsoka recognized a defibrillator unit, but many of the others were unfamiliar to her. Noticing her consternation, one of the astromechs assured her that knowledge of how to use the devices had been installed into her ship’s A.I., so there was no need for her to worry. Hopefully, she would never have to resort to using them, the droid beeped, but the instruments would come in handy in case of a medical emergency, and now the shuttle was equipped to handle even minor surgical procedures. Ahsoka knew all of these changes were meant to reassure her, but instead, it all only served to make her sense of apprehension grow. She walked away from the working astromechs feeling slightly dizzy. It was all so overwhelming…!

The Togruta began to walk down the hallway towards her quarters but paused when she reached the entrance. The bled kyber crystals were in there. His kyber crystals. There was no point in denying that. Their hateful resonance had dimmed considerably since the meeting that morning, but she could still feel their power pulsing through the Cosmic Force. They were subdued and resentful, almost as they had been when she first encountered them in Obi-Wan’s home. Stars, that seemed so long ago now! She didn’t want to provoke them with her presence, but she also felt the need to get away from all the hubbub taking place around her and think. She needed to think. About many things, mainly what to do with those damned red stones and their stupid master. Great. Now she was resorting to name calling, like a spoiled youngling. She wanted to scream her frustration, but instead, she spun on her heel and headed for the tiny storage room across the corridor.

She stepped inside and let the door slide shut behind her before taking several deep breaths. She tried to focus her attention on something – anything – in the room rather than her racing thoughts. Her gaze settled upon a battered, old rucksack hastily shoved on one of the shelves: Maul’s duffel bag from Tatooine. That’s right, she had put it away in the tiny storage room because leaving it in her quarters had made her uneasy. It seemed she couldn’t go anywhere in her shuttle that wasn’t marred by the Dark Sider’s presence. Going into the back cargo area was out of the question for now: it would surely remind her of the Tusken corpses he had stowed away in her freezer. Despite the fact that Admiral Tallon had assured her that the entire back area had been thoroughly disinfected and sanitized, she wouldn’t be able to get the images she saw in that holo-feed out of her head anytime soon. Ugh, was she going to have to resort to climbing into one of the partial decks at the end of the hallway in order to get some peace‽ No, that wouldn’t work either, because she’d had to hide in one of those in order to ambush the Rodians when they took Maul. Dank farrik! It all looped back around to the old man. Ahsoka growled in annoyance and leaned back against the door.

But well, now that she was there, she supposed she should do some rearranging. Maul had obviously been in the small storage compartment. That’s likely where he got those grov wool blankets. She should at least take stock of what she had onboard. She brought her gauntlet up and made sure it was synched to her ship’s mainframe, then began doing inventory.

Doing so helped ease her nerves, as well as made the time go by more quickly. Once she was finished in the small room, she went over to the back cargo area after all. Might as well, she told herself wearily. When she walked in, she was met by the same astromechs who had been working on the front end of her ship earlier. Now all five of them were busy moving metal crates from the wall on the right-hand side of the entrance to the opposite one.

“What are you doing?” she asked the team, trying to sound polite, rather than irate, which was how she felt. How was she supposed to take accurate account of what she had, if they had rearranged all her supply crates? One of the droids beeped and whistled their explanation: they were clearing out that area so they could install shielding similar to the one they’d finished setting up to close off the cockpit. They were going to make a cell, see? As per the admiral’s orders.

“Admiral Tallon instructed you to turn my cargo area into a detention block‽” Yes, that was correct, but she didn’t need to worry. They would be installing everything necessary for the upkeep of the prisoner, including a sleeping cot, small commode, and a lavatory bin where he could clean himself up. Ahsoka felt a bit queasy.

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “Stop, all of you!” She was shaking and had to take a few more deep breaths in order to steady her voice before she continued: “I am not keeping Maul caged up like an animal. I understand the High Command’s concern for my wellbeing, but none of this is necessary. I’ll make accommodations elsewhere.”

The automatons stopped in their work and cautioned her that they would need to inform Admiral Tallon of her decision.

“That’s fine,” she said. “I’ll explain things to the admiral later. But well, since you all are moving things around already, and you just reminded me that I will be needing to settle Maul in somewhere, come help me over here instead.”

The droid crew obediently followed her back down the corridor and to the small storage room. Ahsoka opened the door and looked inside. Yes, if all the shelves were taken out, the room would be suitable to house a person and their basic amenities. That is, after all, what its original purpose was.

Ahsoka and the astromechs spent the next several hours removing everything from the small cargo space and relocating the supplies into crates in the larger area of the back. Once it was cleared out completely, she had the automatons paint over the interior walls, covering the stark, bare durasteel into a more welcoming, warm, creamy off-white. She doubted the Zabrak would appreciate the light color scheme, but the Togruta was determined to make his living space as un-dank as possible. The droids also changed out the bulbs embedded in the ceiling, from bright fluorescents to LEDs that illuminated the room softly with a golden glow.

Once everything dried (it didn’t take too long, as the five droids all ejected fans from their tops and each one faced a wall and the ceiling to quicken the process), Ahsoka had that cot brought in and welded to the wall opposite the door. She added extra padding to the mattress by piling several grov wool blankets underneath the thin, flimsy thing that came with the cot. She took two more blankets and used one to form a pillow, then draped the other over the bed. While she was busy doing this, she had the astromechs drag in an empty metal crate and place it beside the entrance. This would have to do until she was able to purchase a table and chair for the Dathomirian. She would have used another blanket as a tablecloth, but she ran out. She wasn’t sure why she’d had so many linens in the first place. The final thing she did was take the Dathomirian’s duffel bag and place it on the floor, at the foot of the bed. Once everything was done, she stepped back to the doorway and surveyed their handiwork. She was amazed at how much more ample the space seemed now, and how small touches could transform the ambience entirely. The room looked livable in now, inviting, even. Maul was sure to hate his new quarters. It was perfect.

With the most pressing arrangement complete, Ahsoka thanked the astromech team for their help, then sent them on their way. She contacted Admiral Tallon and let him know of the changes she made to his original plan. She made her displeasure quite clear, and the older man smiled apologetically. He at least had the decency to look abashed.

“I was only trying to look out for you, Ahsoka,” he said. “Darth Maul is dangerous. He already tried to kill you twice just on this mission of yours. I cannot trust him, and I don’t like the idea of you travelling alone with him.”

Ahsoka’s expression softened. “I appreciate your concern, Admiral. But I cannot live in a constant state of heightened awareness around Maul. It will drive me insane. What he and I are about to undertake is perilous as it is. To have to constantly be looking over my shoulder whenever I’m around him… it will be too much. Locking him up as though he were a beast – granted, he sure can act the part – will get me nowhere with him in the long run. Let me try things my way. I promise you that I will take every precaution.”

While she was on the call with Tallon, he received another transmission. He patched it through to where Ahsoka would be able to participate in the conversation. It was Airen Cracken with news from the elusive Admiral Drayson. He wanted to notify them that his counterpart in the NRI had agreed to recruit Ahsoka. Her background check had gone through flawlessly, and as she had been highly recommended by pretty much every military commander who had been on the panel and the chancellor, she had been inducted immediately.

To her and Admiral Tallon’s surprise, the director of Alpha Blue had also officially made Maul a member. Adar Tallon went so far as to comment that he had assumed the Nightbrother would be under the direct employment of the chancellery, since his debt was to Mon Mothma. General Cracken explained that this was more of a formality in order to get the Zabrak’s medical record on file. He wouldn’t have the same special clearance that Ahsoka would have, but he was officially on their payroll. This would also make it easier to keep track of his debt to the chancellor, with whatever wages he earned going towards paying it off.

He could also choose to withdraw some funds from his account, of course, the silver-haired general clarified, for his basic necessities, such as food and hygiene products. All of this, he said, had already been explained to the Dathomirian. Cracken assured them that he would provide Ahsoka instructions somehow on how she was to proceed. He said she and Maul would have to report to Alpha Blue’s base of operations by noon of the following day. “I will see you there myself,” he added. “I look forward to meeting you in person. Welcome aboard, Agent Tano.”

Once Ahsoka terminated the call with the two military leaders, she contacted Mon Mothma to let her know of the update, as well as to ask for what the best time would be for her to meet at her lakeside home in order to gather the things she had left there in the morning, along with the clothes that had been gifted to her. The older woman was eager to have her over, she said, and would make arrangements to have Ahsoka escorted to her home by the DF. Her daughter, she explained, wanted to see her as well, as the younger Mothma was quite worried. The ex-Padawan insisted that it was no problem and could get to the dacha herself. She borrowed a military AV-21 and drove herself by inputting the coordinates to the chancellor’s residence into the navicomp. It felt good to feel the wind whipping around her face, and she made sure to savor the fleeting moment of freedom while she could.

And so, the former Jedi had an early dinner with the two women and – to her delighted surprise – Sondiv Sella, Sinjir Velus and their respective families. Sondiv, as Ahsoka had guessed, was a married man as well, and a new father. His wife, Senator Yarin Arlo of Hosnian Prime, was a tall, proud woman with handsome features, and their infant daughter, Korr, was a tiny bundle in her father’s arms who didn’t fuss at all and seemed fascinated by the Togruta’s colorful lekku. Ahsoka could tell that Sondiv was deeply in love with the two ladies in his life. It made her happy to know he had such a fulfilling homelife. He was a good man; he deserved this bliss.

She also got to meet Conder Kyl, Sinjir’s husband. The large man dwarfed Sinjir’s smaller frame, and his hair was light compared to his husband’s dark tresses. He, too, looked like a scoundrel though, in spite of him wearing what Ahsoka could only assume was his best outfit. He and Sinjir looked like scruffy, polar opposites of one another, but nonetheless, they fit. She quickly came to like Conder’s laugh. It complemented well with Sondiv’s, actually, and once either of the two men started chuckling, everyone else was soon to follow. This happened often during the dinner, and Ahsoka was glad to see that not only were Mon Mothma’s advisors part of her work team, but that they genuinely cared for one another, and their families got along great. Lieda and Yarin gossiped like school girlfriends, and everyone took turns cooing over and holding little Korrie.

Ahsoka had asked everyone not to worry about her upcoming venture with Maul, and they all avoided the subject at her behest, for she didn’t want her time with them tarnished by remembering what was to come afterwards. She kept her visit rather short, for there was still one more stop she had to make before returning to the military base. After Conder, Sinjir and Sondiv helped her load the crates with Auxi Korbin’s wardrobe into the speeder, the Togruta took her leave, receiving hugs and well-wishes from everyone.

“Keep in touch, please,” Mon Mothma urged, squeezing Ahsoka’s hands.

“I will, Madam.”

“Please do, Ahsoka. Mother and I will be thinking of you always.”

“I won’t forget, Lieda.”

Conder hung around the driver’s side of the speeder, and once she climbed in, he said quietly with a smile, leaning over and holding out his hand. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you. I’m not sure what you did to Sinjir, but whatever it was, has helped him out a lot. I’ve never seen him as stressed, yet so sure of himself. He’s finally processing his traumas in a healthy way. I’ll never be able to thank you enough. And, well, we just may run into one another sometime. I’ve never worked directly with Alpha Blue, but with what Sinjir told me is happening, that might change. Not sure if he informed you, but I’m Chief of Cyberware over at the Digital Warfare Department.”

“Hm, he didn’t tell me, though that is good to know,” Ahsoka said, taking the man’s hand and shaking it. “All he mentioned was that you two made out a lot.” Conder blushed and she giggled, which prompted Sinjir to call out from the porch: “Hey! Are you two flirting over there‽ Don’t try to steal my man, Tano!”

“He’s all yours, Sinjir!” she replied with a laugh. Then she turned back to Conder and said, “I’ll leave my contact information with the chancellor. If I ever require your services, my good sir, I’ll have her pass it on.”

“Aw, you don’t have to. What kind of department chief would I be if I can’t even slice into your frequency?”

“Well, no one’s ever been able to hack into the Fulcrum network in all these years, but you’re welcome to try.”

“Challenge accepted!”

“I’ll hear from you soon, then. Take care of Sinjir. He’s a bit of a cynic, but he deserves a good man like you.”

Soon, she was speeding off, back towards the capital. She hadn’t been to Hanna City many times before, but there was one place she knew how to get to by heart. Even if she hadn’t known the address, she would have found the apartment. The bled kyber crystals weren’t the only things sending out a beacon.

She parked the AV-21 in a temporary docking bay on Embassy Row, paid the hourly fee, and walked up to the tower made of polished durasteel, with spacious balconies and large transparisteel windows. When the gatewatcher droid poked its photoreceptor out of the slot in the doorframe to inquire who she was, and who she was looking for, the Togruta replied promptly: “My name is Ahsoka Tano. I’m here to see Senator Organa.”

Almost immediately afterwards, she was allowed in, and a service droid up front ushered her towards an elevator.

“The room’s coordinates have already been entered for you, miss,” the automaton said with a bow as she stepped inside. “Please enjoy your stay.”

The building was fairly new, with the most technologically advanced amenities. It was evident even in the lift she took. It was similar to the one the Rodians had, to where it would take the passenger directly to the flat dictated. There was no walking down hallways in this edifice.

When Ahsoka reached her destination, she had to wait scarcely a few seconds before the doors slid open and a petite young woman was suddenly in her arms, squeezing her tightly with a muffled squeal. The former Padawan felt her heart and Life Force sing and her eyes misted over a bit as she held Leia with as much vigor as she was being hugged. Ever since first meeting the Alderaanian princess during the time of the Rebellion, Ahsoka had recognized something in the girl. There was a grace and strength to her that was immediately familiar, along with a fierce attitude and sarcastic wit. It was until much later that Ahsoka realized she was seeing Padmé and Anakin shining through their daughter. Bail and Breha’s influence was also evident in Leia’s mannerisms: the princess was the culmination of four of the strongest, most just people Ahsoka had ever known. It was only after the passing of Master Yoda that the Togruta became aware of Leia’s power in the Force. She wasn’t sure why, exactly, but shortly after she felt the old Grandmaster pass into the Netherworld, both Luke and Leia’s Living Force blossomed fantastically. She was able to feel it all the way in the World Between Worlds. Ahsoka suspected the Jedi had conducted some type of suppression technique on the twins’ auras in order to keep them hidden from the Emperor. Ever since that power within Anakin’s children developed, Ahsoka had felt a deep connection to the two of them, and they to her. They seemed to recognize one another as belonging to the same descendance of Jedi Masters, for their knowledge had all been forged by the same guiding hands, passed down from generations. A type of lineage, she supposed. It was the closest thing the Jedi had had to forming familial bonds between one generation and the next. The fact that the siblings were the biological offspring of the man who had not only been her teacher, but more akin to an older brother, only served to reinforce that connection between them. Anakin’s children were her kin. It was as simple as that.

Leia looked up at the Togruta now, big brown eyes wide and shining. Neither of them could stop smiling. “I’ve missed you!” was all the princess – now a senator for the New Republic – could say. It was all that needed to be said. “I’ve missed you too, Skygirl,” Ahsoka murmured, touching her face and hair gently.

“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced,” the ex-Jedi said as they entered the Solos’ spacious apartment. The décor was simple, but tasteful, with a mostly modern look. However, Ahsoka recognized a few Alderaanian artisanal pieces, as well as some from Naboo.

“I should be cross with you,” Leia said, placing her hands on her hips with a playful pout. “You arrived since yesterday.”

Ahsoka smiled apologetically. “Things are complicated,” she explained sheepishly.

“I know,” the senator sighed, then motioned for the Togruta to take a seat on one of the two sofas in the living room. Leia sat beside her as soon as Ahsoka settled into the soft cushions and reached over to take her hands. “Luke already informed me about what happened. I can’t believe there’s still another Sith, and that he’s been running about all this time.” She shuddered.

“Well…” Ahsoka shrugged. “I wouldn’t say he was ‘running around.’ From what I gathered, I’m pretty sure Maul remained on Tatooine all this time. Since before Yavin.”

“To think he was living so close to my brother…” Leia looked down at their hands, still intertwined. “If Master Kenobi hadn’t been there, too, Darth Maul might have killed him!”

“No, I don’t think he would have,” Ahsoka said thoughtfully. “After speaking with him and listening to what he had to say to Sinjir Velus, I get the impression he’s the superstitious type. He would have kept away from Luke because he felt there was a prophecy involving your brother that had to be fulfilled. Not to mention, I really don’t think he saw himself as a Sith Lord anymore.”

“What about now?”

The Togruta leaned back and looked up wearily at the ceiling, then shrugged heavily. “Your guess is as good as mine. He is fully steeped in the Dark Side. There’s no question in my mind about that. And with this new threat that’s emerging, my fear is he will use everything in his arsenal to fight back. That very well may lead him down the path to taking up the Emperor’s mantle. He was Sidious’s first apprentice, after all.”

“Luke told me what he asked of you, what the New Republic is assigning you to do. It’s been making me want to yank out my hair, Ahsoka! You’re going to be put in so much danger because of this! Although,” she paused to look earnestly at the former Padawan and smiled, albeit a bit sadly, “there is no one else who I think can handle something of this magnitude. I can feel the Force flowing around you, protecting you. I know Luke would have never asked this of anyone else.”

Ahsoka returned the smile. “And I would not have accepted such a task from anyone else,” she said. That was the honest truth. Anakin’s children could ask her to walk right off a cliff, and she would do so blindly. So strong was her faith in them.

They also elicited strong feelings of protection in the Togruta. Even though Ahsoka had never had children of her own, and didn’t plan to, her motherly instincts definitely rushed to the forefront when it came to Luke and Leia. It had been those feelings that had prompted the ex-Jedi to visit the young woman now. She straightened back up, scooting to where she perched at the edge of the seat. “There’s another reason I came to see you, other than a casual visit.”

“I know.”

“Luke told you of the reason I went to Tatooine in the first place.”

“Yes, and he told me what you found, other than the Sith. The items that started this entire mess to begin with.” Leia squeezed Ahsoka’s hands gently before withdrawing her own and bringing them into her lap, where she clasped them together hard, knuckles white. “He didn’t have to warn me that you were bringing the crystals here. I have felt them even before you arrived yesterday. Their siren’s call is… alluring, in a horrible, nauseating way.”

Ahsoka’s brow shot up, but her expression quickly turned from one of surprise to concern. Alluring? Could this be the beckoning Maul spoke of? She had certainly not felt drawn to them, ever. Quite the opposite; the bled kyber rejected her aura, and she felt repulsed by them in turn. Being around them constantly had caused her –

“Jaina’s been complaining about headaches since yesterday, too,” Leia continued. “I’ve had to sacrifice some of my millaflowers to brew some tea for the poor dear. It helps her with the pain, and I would much rather have her take something natural than give her analgesics.”

“Jaina can sense them, too?” Ahsoka’s heart clutched in her chest for a moment before resuming its patter at a slightly quickened rate. She should have known, as Leia’s daughter had inherited the famous Skywalker strength in the Force. Power flowed through the little girl’s veins, and she had shown telekinetic aptitude since before she could read. The Togruta sighed. “I promise you, I will get these blasted crystals as far from your family as I possibly can.” She looked the young woman squarely in the eyes. “Those things, however, are not the only risk to you right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure how much detail Luke went into with you, but if you know that I’ve been assigned to keep watch over Maul, you must know the reason why. You know about these murders.”

“Yes,” Leia replied, her smooth brow creasing slightly in a frown. “And I was upset with Luke and Han for keeping me in the dark about all this. Months‽ This has been going on for months, and neither bothered to confide in me!”

Ahsoka smiled sardonically. “Oh, I know how you feel. I need to have a stern chat with your brother later on as well. I understand they were all working in secrecy, but since the matter involves Maul…” She shook her head, trying to displace the negative feelings of betrayal that she had felt ripple through her when she had first realized Luke hadn’t trusted her enough to seek her advice. “That can be left for another time, though. What has me concerned are these mysterious hunters. They’re obviously Force-sensitive, and if they’ve been slowly catching up to Maul’s trail, that will eventually bring them to Chandrila. I know you’re not their goal, but if they are adherents of the Dark Side – which is nearly guaranteed – they may seek you out in order to hurt you or your children. You aren’t safe here anymore. Contact your husband. Have him send Chewbacca for you, or rendezvous with him somewhere. The important thing is for you to stay away from Hanna City for a while.”

“Do you think they will attack the citizenry?” Leia asked anxiously, her brown eyes wide.

“I hope not,” the Togruta replied. “And from what Airen Cracken described, they haven’t yet ventured to act out in the open. I think that means the general public of the capital will be safe, but you are not a regular member of society. Aside from your position as a senator, they are likely to sense your presence through the Cosmic Force. I don’t want to risk them lashing out at you and your family in retaliation when they realize Maul is no longer here.”

“I’m not entirely helpless, you know,” Leia replied a bit haughtily. “My brother did train me and even knighted me as a Jedi.”

“Just for you to promptly surrender the lightsaber you crafted and enter the political sphere instead.”

For a moment, Leia seemed at a loss for words. She finally looked down at her lap and mumbled, “I couldn’t risk that vision coming true, Ahsoka. At the time, I didn’t even know I would have a son. I was so relieved when Jaina was born, and I saw she was a girl. I thought perhaps I had been too hasty in rejecting my brother’s offer to help him rebuild the Jedi Order. But by then, my life in politics had offered Han and I stability that we desperately needed, that Jaina would need to grow and develop. Now that I have Ben, there is no doubt in my mind that I made the right choice.” She raised her eyes back to meet Ahsoka’s, and there was a fierce determination that was all too reminiscent of Anakin’s stubbornness. “That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to protect my family. I will fight for them until my death.”

“I don’t doubt that, Skygirl,” the ex-Padawan said gently. “Not for one second. But don’t take your chances. If you can avoid that danger altogether, please do so. You just said so yourself: you know that sometimes it is better to walk away from the sword and live to fight another day. In fact, please don’t think that I’m judging you at all for not accepting your brother’s offer. I, too, once refused a Skywalker and left the Jedi Order. This might be another instance where it would be better to step back from the frontlines. Do it for your little ones.”

“Speaking of little ones…” Leia said, looking past the Togruta and down the hallway. There, standing uncertainly, stood Han and Leia’s seven-year-old daughter, her dark brown hair tousled and her eyes still puffy from sleep. “Come here, sweetheart,” her mother called, holding out her hand, and the child did so immediately, not hesitating at all. When she was standing beside her, Leia said: “Jaina, this is my friend, Ahsoka Tano. She came to see you when you were a baby. Do you recognize her from the holos?”

The little girl nodded, her brown eyes blown wide as she stared at the Togruta’s colorful skin and striking montrals and lekku. Ahsoka smiled. “May I hug you, dearest?” she asked politely. Once again, there was no hesitation from the child. With another bob of her head, she walked over instantly and leaned into the embrace once Ahsoka put her arms around her. “You smell nice,” the girl said, her small fingers playing with the netting of the headpiece Ahsoka had forgotten she was still wearing. “Mama says you are our family. Is that because you are a princess, too?”

“You are dressed rather formally today!” Leia chuckled as Ahsoka blushed.

“These aren’t my clothes,” the Togruta tried to explain as she finally let go of the little girl. (She really didn’t want to; she could hold this child forever.) “I mean, they are now, but they weren’t originally. This isn’t really the style I –”

Leia only laughed more merrily, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “I know, dear Ahsoka. I actually knew Auxi Korbin, and I remember her wearing that top. I think it was her favorite. It looks good on you, though.” Her expression dimmed a little as she added: “Auxi was great. I think you two would have really hit it off. Mon mentioned once how she had some of her extra clothes stored in her home. Did she push the entire wardrobe onto you?”

Before Ahsoka could answer, a rustling was heard from the direction of the hallway, followed by a soft whimper.

“Ben’s awake!” Jaina chirped, running over. “Come on, Ben!” the women heard her say. “Come and meet Princess Ahsoka Tano!”

At that, even Ahsoka had to giggle. Leia’s children were so sweet.

“No!” the toddler stated. Leia sighed and looked askance at the Togruta. “That’s his new favorite word,” she explained.

“Terrible twos?”

“You know it.”

Leia got up from her seat and went into the hallway, returning seconds later carrying a small, slender boy with raven hair who hid his face in the crook of his mother’s neck the moment he caught sight of the Togruta. “He’s shy,” Leia said apologetically as she took her seat once more.

“Hm, or he may just be strong in the Force,” Ahsoka mused. “When they’re that little, sometimes the auras of others can be overwhelming for them. He’ll become more sociable as he learns to control his abilities.”

“Do you really think that could be it? Jaina started showing signs of Force affinity early on, but Ben seems too young still.”

“Uncle Luke taught me how to make a ball float!” the girl interrupted, obviously proud. “Can I show you?” Jaina had returned to the room as well and hovered before her family’s houseguest, still captivated by the visitor. She now looked up at the Togruta eagerly.

“Sure,” Ahsoka replied cheerfully. “Why don’t you go get it while I talk to your Mommy?”

The little girl perked up immediately. “I’ll be right back!” she squealed, running out of the room. She shouted back over her shoulder: “Don’t leave yet, okay?”

The Togruta smiled, then she turned back to her friend. “The Force flows strongly through both of your children,” she said. “I can feel it, and I know you can, too. It’s something you inherited from Anakin and will probably carry on in your bloodline through several generations. For better or worse.” She leaned forward and reached out a hand to the little boy, facing up, extending her aura gently along with it. Ben reacted, peeking over to her before allowing a tiny smile to form upon his lips. He finally pulled away from the safe embrace of his mother and reached out tentatively to put his small hand into Ahsoka’s palm. “Hello, Ben,” Ahsoka said, keeping her voice calm and serene. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” the toddler replied bashfully, barely audible. Leia was smiling broadly. She looked both content and relieved.

As the former Jedi held the boy’s hand, she could sense his innate power flowing around him. It was still raw and uncontrolled, which was to be expected of one so young, but neutral. The child had no affinity yet to either dark or light. This was rare, she knew, and could be dangerous if he was not taught correctly. Most younglings naturally gravitated to the Light Side of the Force, as they were pure and innocent, free of the troubled emotions that fueled the Dark Side. Because of this, a Force-sensitive child tended to shun the darkness. It was why Jaina was experiencing headaches due to the bled crystal’s influence, she was sure. A child such as Ben Solo, however, wouldn’t know to avoid the perils of the Dark Side and could inadvertently become influenced by it. That, coupled with the Skywalker lineage, could prove troublesome if not handled adequately. She was therefore glad he was in the most capable hands possible: Luke and Leia would surely know how to guide him. “You’re going to be quite the powerhouse when you’re older, aren’t you?” Ahsoka murmured.

“No!” he replied, then giggled. Favorite word, indeed.

“Princess Ahsoka, look!” Jaina exclaimed, walking back into the room. She was being careful, holding her arms out before her, a silver music sphere hovering just above her fingers. With his momentary connection to the Togruta broken by the sudden interruption, Ben quickly withdrew his hand from hers and hugged his mother immediately, his face once again hidden in her hair. He began to whimper.

Leia sighed and got up. Ahsoka took her cue and stood as well. “I need to put him to bed again,” she said, her expression worried. “He hasn’t been sleeping well at all. He’s been having nightmares, I think.”

“It’s the crystals,” Ahsoka said grimly.

“Look! Look!” Jaina insisted, now standing in front of the former Padawan. Ahsoka squatted before her and stroked the girl’s hair. “You’re amazing, sweet star,” she told the child.

Jaina’s eyes brightened and she grinned. “You wanna see something else?” she asked slyly.

“Well, of course!”

The girl closed her eyes tightly, scrunching up her entire face. Very slowly, the ball hovering before her began to twirl, then break apart, revealing the mechanism inside. As it kept turning, a soft lullaby began to play in twinkling sounds, like glass bells. In Leia’s arms, Ben quit sniffling and relaxed, letting out a happy sigh. Ahsoka understood the boy, for she felt it too: despite her young age, Jaina’s aura was radiating outward from her core. It was bright and soothing, and fiercely protective. In her own way, the girl was watching over her little brother. When Ahsoka looked up at Leia, she saw the young woman’s eyes brimming with unshed tears of pride and love. She nodded silently at the Togruta, and Ahsoka knew that Leia would be leaving Chandrila with her children after all. She smiled, immensely relieved.

After Jaina’s demonstration, Ahsoka straightened back up. “I should head out now,” she said.

“Aw!” Jaina whined. “You just got here! And I was getting to know you!”

Her mother laughed. “Now, Jaina, don’t be rude. Ahsoka has to go on a very important trip.”

“How come?” asked the girl.

“Well,” began Ahsoka patiently. “Do you know how your head has been hurting a bit lately?” The child nodded, pouting at the memory. “The reason you’re getting that pain is because there are some magic stones nearby. Unfortunately, they’re not very nice. They make my head hurt, too. So, I’m going to be taking them far away from here, where they won’t be able to hurt you anymore, and Ben will be able to sleep again.”

“Yes,” Leia agreed, “and just to make sure we all feel better, we are going on a vacation trip to see your father.”

“We’re going to go see Daddy‽” Jaina jumped up and down excitedly, clutching her music ball to her chest, making it jingle. “Yay!”

“Daddy, yay!” Ben echoed, his voice muffled and sleepy against his mother’s neck.

“But, wait…” Jaina ceased her exuberant display and tilted her head thoughtfully. “Why do you have to take them if they hurt you? Are they evil? Will you break them, or are you going to throw them away?”

Ahsoka paused, trying to think of a good explanation for the little girl. “I’m not sure I would call them evil,” she said at last. “They’re just… lost. They have been in pain for a long, long time. They hurt people around them because they don’t know any better.”

“Like a stray tooka? There is a big one outside that is really mean. It growls at us and won’t let me pet it, even though I feed it sometimes. But it’s always dirty, and it’s missing an eye. I get worried because I think it’s sick. Do you think the magic stones are sick, too?”

“Maybe,” the Togruta replied. “I definitely think people have always been mean to them, and that’s why hurting people is all they know how to do. And I don’t plan on breaking them. That wouldn’t help them at all, and maybe they’ll just try to break me instead. I’m going to try and make them feel better somehow. Maybe all he needs is a friend.” She shrugged.

“Is there a boy inside the magic stones?” Jaina asked, and Ahsoka blushed slightly, realizing her slip of the tongue. Thankfully, she was saved from answering by Leia, who chided gently: “Alright, dearest, those are enough questions for now. We shouldn’t delay Ahsoka any longer. Her mission is very important. Why don’t you go pack some clothes and toys for our trip?”

“Okay!” said the girl, and turned to run out of the room. However, she stopped herself short and then returned to Ahsoka, wrapping her arms around the Togruta’s legs. “I liked meeting you, Princess Ahsoka, and I’m glad you are our family. I’ll miss you!”

Heart thumping, Ahsoka leaned down and buried her face in the child’s tresses, breathing in her scent. Jaina Solo smelled like the millaflowers her mother apparently owned. Perhaps Leia was also putting some of the dried petals in the girl’s pillow. “I’ll miss you too, sweet star,” she whispered, returning the embrace. “But I know we will see each other again.”

When the child had disappeared back down the hallway, Leia walked the ex-Jedi to the door and summoned the elevator. She reached out to offer a side-hug (as she was still balancing her son against her chest), which Ahsoka gladly accepted. “Be careful out there,” the senator warned, her brown eyes solemn.

“You, too, my Skygirl. Keep these little ones safe, and may the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you.”

Her trip back to HQ was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. On the one hand, Ahsoka loved seeing the Skywalker twins. The chances she got to meet with them in person were few and far between, so she cherished every moment in their company. Being around them helped her feel centered; her priorities always became clear to her when in their presence. Likely because they knew their place in the grander sense, and would make appropriate choices, even if they didn’t like them personally. Such as the decision Luke had made when he asked Ahsoka to officially become Maul’s warden, and Leia accepting the Togruta’s suggestion that she leave Chandrila. Now, Ahsoka supposed it was her turn to accept the direction in which the Force seemed to be guiding her. Sure, easier said than done.

She tried to let the wind rushing past her face blow away her disquiet. She hadn’t the slightest clue as to how this new phase with Maul was supposed to work. The High Command obviously had some type of scenario in mind where Ahsoka was essentially a prison guard, dragging the Zabrak around the cosmos and forcing him to comply with the rules of the deal he’d made. She wasn’t really going to help him in any way. She was just holding his leash.

The problem was that, although she had agreed to the plan, Ahsoka didn’t really like it. She had enough on her plate, trying to figure out how to deactivate those bled kyber crystals without having to babysit the Dathomirian. And it wouldn’t be such a problem, she supposed, if she really were just supposed to be childminding the old man. No, the New Republic wanted her to oppress him, keep a tight rein on him. The implication being that she was to be guard, jury, and executioner if need be. She had never had to take on such a role before. When she had still been a member of the Jedi Order, she had helped capture Separatists during the Clone Wars, of course, brought criminals to justice, but it had never been her job to then keep them secured. The Coruscant Security Forces dealt with those things, or the Temple Guards, even the clones, if necessary. Even after the Siege of Mandalore when she had captured Maul, she had never had a say in what ultimately happened to him. That information had never been revealed to her, and she hadn’t even been tasked with keeping watch over the vault he was in. She had been a soldier, not a guardsman. A fighter, not a keeper. The thought of becoming one now went against everything she had ever known, and she didn’t know the first place to start. That was the reason why she had robustly rejected the idea of quite literally keeping the Zabrak in a cell. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, even if it meant putting herself at greater risk.

Then, of course, there was the issue of Maul himself. He was, after all, the other half of the new equation she now found herself a part of. Ahsoka knew he was only going along with the chancellor’s plan until he could figure out a way to betray those parameters, possibly escape back into the underground. He likely would try to kill her and reclaim the bled crystals at the first opportunity. Regardless of what Sinjir believed, Ahsoka was certain that the Nightbrother wanted her dead. Maybe not necessarily out of hate, but merely to claim another trophy. Everything was a game to him, and he was eager to play. She had seen it in the dangerous glint of his golden eyes as he’d been led back out of the meeting that morning. Living in close proximity to him would be an exhausting venture, to say the least.

Yet, as she had in the early predawn hours that same day (had it really only been hours ago?), Ahsoka felt a strange calm in the Force. This is where you’re meant to be, it seemed to say. She realized that her apprehension and stress were completely self-imposed. If she allowed herself to relax and pay attention to the flowing energy web of life around her, she could feel a sense of relief, almost, pulsing from the Cosmic Force into her aura. And, if she were willing to admit it, it was accompanied by… glee? Excitement? Enthusiasm. She wanted to remain around Maul, and that is what probably disturbed her most. She couldn’t understand her own feelings. Had she maybe been just as bored as he had? Somehow that didn’t seem right. Ahsoka knew she had enjoyed Sabine’s company, would prefer travelling with the Mandalorian over the Zabrak, and she wanted to find Ezra. She had made the young man a promise when he was just a boy, and she aimed to keep it. But having Maul tag along in that scenario didn’t seem to bother her as much as it should. As she arrived at the gates of the citadel and was allowed inside, she subconsciously reached down and touched the hilts of her lightsabers. “You’re going to have to help me navigate through all this mess,” she whispered to her purified crystals. She would need their aid in understanding the cryptic messages the Force was throwing her way. In response, she felt their soft hum as they sang to her soothingly.

Everything will be alright, child, she heard a voice in her mind as a shadow passed over her briefly. Ahsoka had just finished docking the borrowed speeder where a DF soldier had signaled her to, and she looked up at the sky for the source of the shadow. High in the sky, above the reach of the gargantuan walls of the fortress, the Togruta made out the silhouette of a convor flying overhead. It circled around once, then headed away in the direction of the Silver Sea with a single cry. Ahsoka smiled. “Okay, Morai,” she said aloud. “I hear you.”

She supposed there was no delaying the inevitable. She climbed out of the AV-21 and stretched, then headed into the building, activating her gauntlet’s communicator, and contacting Admiral Tallon on the frequency he’d given her before she had headed out to see the chancellor. He answered almost immediately and sent a droid to take her items from the speeder, then had a soldier escort her to the hangar where her shuttle was waiting for her. The entire body of the T-6 had been repainted in its original color scheme of white and red in order to conceal the fact that it had been modified extensively. The naval commander was there, waiting for her, in order to inform her that he had just sent for the Zabrak that was to accompany her for the foreseeable future. Maul’s end of things had gone by smoothly, he told her, with the Dathomirian cooperating without much fuss. The man seemed genuinely surprised by this. He also handed the Togruta a datapad as the automaton accompanying her boarded her ship with the crates she had gotten from Mon Mothma.

“Your orders from Drayson,” he explained. “You should look them over as soon as you’re able. Definitely before take-off. It includes the coordinates of where you are to meet up with Alpha Blue. Since their agency is not on any official records, their HQ is a mystery, even to us. Airen tells me it’s not even on a planet, but that instead, it’s a mobile unit. He wouldn’t specify beyond that, so I’m guessing they run their operation out of a flagship, or maybe a space station. In either case, all your communications with them will be through that datapad for now, at least until they give you new equipment. Maul has been assigned one as well.” Ahsoka nodded silently.

“There’s one more thing,” the admiral said. “The three Tusken bodies were incinerated; I hope you don’t mind.”

Ahsoka looked at the man quizzically. “Why would I –”

“You’ll be taking the ashes with you.”

The Togruta swallowed hard. “Alpha Blue requested the remains for further analysis?”

“No,” Adar Tallon replied, looking a bit awkward and slightly puzzled. “Drayson decided that with the analysis we’re sending over to them – the report is also in your datapad for you to provide when you meet up with Alpha Blue – they should be able to get all the information they require. We were actually going to dispose of the ashes with our Biowaste Disposal Unit, but um, Darth Maul insisted on keeping them.”

“What‽” Ahsoka exclaimed. “Why? And why would you go along with it?”

“He was very insistent,” the admiral said. “In fact, he asked us about what we planned to do with the bodies first. It was obviously something he had been thinking about thoroughly. He said they belonged back on Tatooine, among the sands.” The man shrugged. “I don’t see the harm in it, really, as they’re only ashes now, and we scanned whatever was left to make sure there was nothing hazardous about them.”

“Admiral, I know Maul and I will likely be heading back to the Outer Rim again, but I’m not sure that means we will set foot on Tatooine any time soon, if ever.”

“I know, and I explained that to him, but as I said, he insisted. He actually threatened to take them by force, if need be, and well, you weren’t here to help us control him. I had to appease him somehow. Maybe Drayson will be able to take them from him. I didn’t want to risk a confrontation without you around.”

The former Padawan sighed. “Yes, I understand. I’m sorry the Defense Fleet has been placed in such a compromised position. That was never my intent when I brought Maul to Chandrila.”

“No need to apologize, Ahsoka. You are a part of the New Republic forces now. We always have each other’s backs.” He smiled.

Just then, the clacking of boots was heard approaching as Semler Capel and two armed soldiers escorted the Zabrak to them. Maul was carrying a military pack over one shoulder and had a camtono under the other arm, presumably containing the Tusken ashes. He was wearing a military-issued outfit in a dull, dark blue. The only difference between his attire and that of the soldiers with him was that Maul’s uniform was plain, with no rank or distinguishing adornments, and that the pants were shorter and had been secured around his knees, giving his prosthetics the appearance of boots. Ahsoka was surprised by how natural it looked on him: despite his striking skin and tattoos, he could very well pass as a real member of the Fleet.

“A bit jarring, isn’t it?” Adar Tallon muttered under his breath beside her. “It’s the way he carries himself, I think. He may be a criminal, but he’s a warrior. That much is evident.”

Ahsoka only hummed in reply, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t as though she could argue the point. She also didn’t want to admit that Maul actually looked good in uniform. When the group reached the pair standing outside the ship, Officer Capel and the soldiers came to attention before the admiral and saluted. Tallon returned the salute in acknowledgement and nodded at Maul.

“Well,” the older man said, turning to the Togruta, “I guess this is it.” He straightened up and offered her a salute. “Welcome back to active duty… Commander Tano.”

The ex-Jedi blushed slightly, although instinctively, she had already come to attention and saluted the admiral back. “I’m not sure I’ll be keeping that rank,” she said, a little abashed. “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Admiral. May the Force be with you.” As she was saying this, she heard the droid that had walked with her make its way down the boarding ramp. It approached her and addressed her in binary, letting her know that the crates had been secured in the cargo area of the shuttle. Ahsoka nodded, then faced the Zabrak and jerked a thumb over her shoulder, signaling towards the entrance. “We’d better get a move on,” she said curtly. “We need to report in by noon tomorrow.”

Maul said nothing, only showing that he understood by obeying her implied command. He didn’t so much as look at the blonde who had served as his defense counsel before taking quick strides up the gangplank. He walked with purpose, his expression grim. Ahsoka watched him go for a couple of seconds, then turned to the others and shrugged, offering a half-hearted grin. She, too, turned to leave. Tallon’s words echoed in her mind: This is it. Yes, she supposed it was. Just as she was reaching the top of the ramp, Semler Capel called out (completely unprofessionally): “Good luck!” Those were the last words she heard as the entrance to her T-6 slid shut.

Ahsoka wanted to lean tiredly against the door but reminded herself to stay alert. She didn’t want to show weakness in front of Maul. The Zabrak was standing beside the doorway, waiting for her. He was looking at the obvious changes that had occurred to the interior since he had last been onboard. Namely, the energy shields now separating the cockpit from the larger, more advanced-looking med-bay. Ahsoka was sure he knew why those implements had been put in place. The corner of his mouth hitched up a bit in amusement.

For a moment, the two just stood there, silent. Ahsoka really didn’t know what to say. Welcome aboard? That was dumb. Maul likely knew the entire layout of her shuttle already. He had, after all, planned on keeping it. Thus, she supposed a tour was out of the question. However, she had to tell him something. She didn’t want to begin their journey on the wrong foot. Remembering what she had asked of her kyber crystals earlier that day, she took a deep breath and tried to listen to them, hoping they would provide her with some insight as to how to begin things amicably. She didn’t want a prisoner, didn’t want an enemy. For the moment, she just wanted their departure to go smoothly, and whatever the future would hold for them, hoped they would get along peacefully. That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? Her crystals hummed, and from the direction of her quarters, she felt the bled kyber resonate in response. They seemed grudgingly accepting of her presence now, and calmer. Perhaps their dark essence was reassured because Maul was near them again. She noticed that against all logic, her own unease was comforted by his being there as well.

“So,” she began at last, keeping her tone light and friendly, “it’s official now. Admiral Tallon told me you’re going to be assigned to this shuttle’s staff, so I guess this means we’re a crew.” As soon as she said the words, her lekku stripes darkened just a tad, and her aura warmed as though she were standing outside on a sunny day. A crew… she rather liked the sound of that but wasn’t ready to admit that out loud just yet. She held out her hand towards the Dathomirian politely, keeping her gaze steady. She hoped he would take it.

Maul looked at her coolly, his stare indecipherable and his aura closed off. For a second, Ahsoka thought he would ignore her hand altogether, uncomfortably aware that she had refused his offer to work together back in the day. She wondered if he held grudges from over thirty years ago. Seeing how he expressed himself recently about Obi-Wan Kenobi, she wouldn’t doubt it.

However, Maul only took a couple of seconds’ hesitation before reaching out and clasping her hand. The handshake didn’t last long, as he seemed to have no desire to maintain contact with her any more than was necessary. With a stoic expression, he answered, “For now.”

Great, the Togruta thought as the warm feeling she’d had instantly shriveled up into a cold lump that settled in the pit of her stomach. Day one.

Chapter Text

Pain.

For as far back as he could remember, pain had been his constant companion. It took many forms over the years: a lacerating tongue that gouged at his back, shattered tender bones, and ripped through sinew. Electric, horrid laughter that crackled around him as it tore wails and screams from his tortured body. A searing blade that sliced asunder, young and ardent. A gaunt, gnawing fiend that rendered him delirious, making him lose his grip on reality. An aching phantom that plagued him where a part of him should be, chasing him, haunting him, never allowing him any respite. Two empty eye holes that wept tears of green mist, staring at him from the chests of his only remaining kin. A haggard gasp in the dark, choked with soot and dust and memory of a glory long past. Yes, pain was ever-morphing, ever-present. Along with Lady Vengeance, good, old, reliable Pain had never left his side. The feel of it assaulting Maul’s broken body was as welcome as the embrace of a lover, and possibly the closest thing the Zabrak had ever known to such a caress.

Over time, however, Pain had lessened its presence in Maul’s existence, and, thanks to Vader, had taken Vengeance along with it, leaving the Zabrak feeling lonely and out-of-place. Adrift. He had been stranded on Tatooine for over a decade, longer than even Malachor or Lotho Minor, but that didn’t make the barren dustball his home. He was a Dathomirian, after all, and like all natives to the scarlet planet, he longed to return, even though he knew in his core that there was nothing left there for him anymore. There were nights when he could no longer stand the stillness, and in his restlessness, would howl at the trio of moons that peeked in through the hole in the ceiling of his cave. Other times, Pain would come and visit, but it was a gentler creature now that would be satisfied with merely nibbling at his heartstrings. On those nights, Maul would lean back against the rough stone walls of his den and savor the company. Sometimes, he would even close his eyes and sing in a language he had thought he’d lost at infancy. He no longer cared that the words held no meaning for him; they felt familiar on his tongue, and across the cosmos, he knew his motherworld could hear him. He could feel her through the shadows of the Force. It was she who kept sending Pain to him, making sure the last of the Nightbrothers never forgot her.

Months had gone by – horrid, interminable cycles that blurred together, just as the landscape did – without Pain dropping by to say hello. Vengeance, he knew to be long dead. She lost her allure as he aged, although granted, it took her a while. There had been a moment in his life when Maul was certain she would be young and radiant for all eternity. But she began to shrivel up into an ancient, useless crone after he found Kenobi in the desert. Once the old hermit cleaved his saberstaff perfectly in two – as the bastard had once done to him – Maul had allowed that severance to permeate down into his very existence, and he cut himself off from the Cosmic Force as surely as if Kenobi had dealt him a killing blow. There were times when he thought that perhaps the Jedi had.

Because once Maul let him go, he realized he’d also let go of his master. He couldn’t desire revenge against one without the other. Both men were intertwined in his psyche. They were almost the same person, so tethered were they to one another by the Zabrak’s hate. Sidious had led Maul to Kenobi, after all, and did so with the intent of having the Jedi murder him, as they had done to so many other Sith in ages past. The Zabrak had only ever been a sacrificial offering upon the altar of his master’s ego. A nameless tool. Strange, how at one point, he had been proud of that fact.

But yes, Pain had receded to be a casual acquaintance that rarely showed itself anymore, leaving the Zabrak feeling empty inside. He had even grown used to the far away shrieking of Dathomir: she had begun agonizing a bit over a standard year prior, and there were times when Maul couldn’t sleep due to her wailing. He hadn’t been sure what was causing it, but his motherworld was angry, he knew. Since there was nothing he could do about it, he did his best to shut her out.

Over time, he also began to sense a growing power in the Force: a swelling of the Dark Side. Mismatched eyes stared at him from the shadows when he slept, labored breathing in his ear, trying to whisper to him, seeking his counsel. Maul ignored that, too, even as he sensed the black anger from whoever it was trying to communicate with him grow and mutate into hatred.

He could have left, he supposed, heeding the call of his home world, or fleeing from that who sought him out. He had the abilities to make a name for himself on the desert planet, but names had long ceased to matter to the Zabrak. He could have amassed a fortune: especially after the death of Jabba, when the community the gangster had built was scrambling for their next strongman. Yes, he could have sucked what wealth and power Tatooine had to offer and abandoned the desolate desertscape in search of more profitable places in the galaxy. In the end, it came down to Maul not wanting to leave the Jundland Wastes. Hate it as he might, the Nightbrother was bound there now. Kenobi’s presence may have faded years ago – the Dathomirian had actually felt the old Jedi disappear into the Netherworld and knew instinctively that Vader had cut him down – but there were other things connecting him to the desert now, aside from memories.

There was Q’Rek’rohr, for one. That pesky Um’Ghorfah who insisted on inserting himself into Maul’s life, teaching him the language and culture of the Sand People, making a place among his tribe for the Zabrak. The young lad tried to chase Pain away by allowing Maul somewhere to belong, but Pain was a stubborn thing, and would find a way to remain by the Dathomirian’s side, occasionally popping up to remind him with a sinister whisper that the Tusken were not his people, that his people were dead, and that he had died as a Nightbrother long before Tyranus and Sidious had eradicated the clans of Dathomir. He only looked like a Nightbrother, but he had forever been stripped of his culture by the cruel hand of a master who had never wanted him. The Tusken tribe only tolerated his presence among them due to fear of what he truly was: a daimon of the desert. Unnatural and intimidating. Even Q’Rek’rohr would avoid his golden gaze. The young warrior had commented once that the Skybrothers – what the Sand People called the dual suns overhead – lived in the Zabrak’s eyes. Um’Ghorfah dreaded and venerated the Brothers and considered Maul their living avatar. They gave him a wide berth. Overall, Maul’s life had become a passive routine that was unbearably dull.

Then Ahsoka Tano showed up on Tatooine and ruined everything.

He hadn’t felt her presence immediately. His connection to the Force had returned over time, but he avoided use of his powers and was generally disinterested in mystical matters. This held true even after Kenobi started showing up in his cavern occasionally to haunt him with his eerie blue glow and translucent stare. Maul ignored him, even as the visits from the phantasm increased, and its appearance became markedly distressed. Maul had been patiently waiting to die; his only lament being that he would be swallowed by the sands and become a part of another world that was not his own. If that were to be the case, he would much rather have disintegrated in the lava pits of Mustafar, ending his wretchedness where his torment had truly begun. He didn’t need Kenobi pestering after him, as though to warn him, just as he didn’t need Q’Rek’rohr idolizing him. The thing he needed least of all was for Vader’s Padawan to arrive and activate his abandoned kaiburr. That cursed brat just didn’t know when to leave things well enough alone.

Although… she was not a brat anymore, he had to admit. She had long ago blossomed into a full-blooded gladiator queen, proud and just: regal in her demeanor, powerful in her strikes. That was the reason he had referred to her as a Lady when he had last seen her on Malachor, for that was what she had become: a true warrioress, and he knew no higher title to offer her than that given to female Sith. The blood that coursed through the Togruta’s veins was purer and more valuable than that of the most ancient nobility in the galaxy. How he would have loved to be the one to spill that blood, cut her down, suck her last breath from her dying lips…! It was what she deserved, after all, for refusing his outstretched hand and selfishly keeping her power to herself when he had needed an ally the most.

When he followed the shriek of his bled crystals to Kenobi’s derelict hut and discovered her there after nearly twenty years, he had almost choked on his own sand-ridden spit. (The blasted particles got into everything!) He had never expected to see her again, had rarely even thought of her at all, save for moments when he grew tired of nursing his old grievances against Sidious and Kenobi, or hating the fiend who ended them both, effectively stealing his lifelong goal for comeuppance: Vader. Only during those fleeting times when he wanted a new face to detest, did he see her in his mind’s eye. He’d focus on that crooked smirk, that distrusting squint, that glow of blades always so readily ignited in her steady hands, forming an impenetrable barrier between them, never allowing him near… and he would feel his hearts patter and blood boil in his veins. How dare she disbelieve in him still, even after he had been proven right…!

And yet, even in those moments of indulgent disdain towards Lady Tano, he would not delude himself into believing that he would one day confront her once more. She was the one ghost of his past he was content to let remain in the dust of his memory.

Except there she had stood, tall and resplendent as ever. He had been so floored by her visage that for a moment, he had convinced himself that she must be another specter of the Netherworld, as Kenobi had become. After all, hadn’t he felt her disappear completely from the Cosmic Force soon after he escaped Malachor? She had died then, at the hand of her master. He had been certain of it! Surely, she must have ascended into a different plane of existence, taken on a new form. That was the only reason he could fathom as to how she had appeared before him like a goddess, descended to interact with mere mortals.

Then her actions made it clear to him that she was no mirage, that Ahsoka Tano lived, and that although she had grown her power even further since the last time they’d met, she was still the same haughty, delusional plebeian she had always been. A paladin of the Light. How predictable.

Not quite, as it turned out. Even though he managed to disarm her and recover what was rightfully his by attacking her weakness – her sentimentality – she had recovered more rapidly than he could have imagined, then counteracted by shooting him in the chest, something so lowly and uncouth that it hadn’t even occurred to him, despite the fact that the weapon she used was his own. Even in such an unrefined strategy, she was impressive. He couldn’t deny her worth as an adversary.

She nearly ruined that fine moment where she had once more conquered him by bestowing her pity upon him. If he hadn’t been trying to not drown in his own blood and bile, he would have spit in her face. For all her potential, she always disappointed him.

Pain had certainly returned with vehemence then. It remained by his side all through that dreadful night, nurturing Maul’s power in the Dark Side as the Zabrak forced his body to keep functioning. Every beat of his hearts was agony – he even wished one of them would stop pulsing for a moment in order to lessen the torment of them throbbing against his shattered chest – but that same pain fed him, kept him going. He had hoped Lady Tano would at least remain next to him so he could try and ignore the return of his faithful companion, but he wore out her sympathy rather quickly, and, as she had back during all their previous encounters, she turned away, left him behind. The only ones he had for company were his kaiburr, whispering sinister encouragement in his psyche, and a couple of bloodthirsty invertebrates who crawled upon him, attracted by his death-scent. All three increased Pain’s hold over him, and he had been unable to stop the moans that escaped his parched lips. The Dathomirian determined there and then that he would hate Ahsoka Tano, but he couldn’t muster up the strength to do it.

The hours that followed had been interminable. Maul allowed himself to slip deeper into the Dark Side, losing a bit of his mind in the process. When his strength began to fail, and the Force spit him back into cognizance, he was surprised to see that the Togruta had shifted her attitude towards him. She had seemed genuinely sorry, and even though she never apologized (thankfully!), there was a guilty look about her. He had wanted to chastise her then. Please do not ruin this moment, he wanted to say, not after I finally found someone worth my interest, but it was all he could do just to keep breathing. He didn’t want her compassion wrecking his fun. He planned to kill her, after all, and decimating a foe who looked upon him with so much kindness and worry stripped all pleasure from what he was positive would be his eventual victory.

Sure, or so he told himself. Yet he found himself immediately accepting of this change, almost eagerly at that. The instant Ahsoka Tano had shown some glimpse of amicability, he had latched on to it like a needy orphaned youngling. It had made him quite disgusted with himself.

Pain remained by his side to remind him not to let his guard down around the Togruta, however. Maul was given the sharp sting of betrayal when he heard Lady Tano contact her real friends and explain her intentions towards him. She was using him. Well, obviously she was. She had told him as much, but in his moribund state, he had allowed himself to forget, allowed himself to hope. What he had been hoping for, he hadn’t really been sure, only that he had liked the way she had teased him, enjoyed that fleeting moment they had shared where the two genuinely smiled at one another. No one had ever smiled at him in that manner since he became an adult (save for ignorant children that he had then promptly cut down). In the past, the closest things he had gotten were nervous grimaces posing as smiles, or mocking, cold, cruel sneers that were more akin to snarls. Her gentle grin, mischievous yet kind, had tricked him, made a fool of him again. She had strung him along, just as she had on Mandalore. He had loathed himself for allowing it.

Once they’d arrived on Rodia, he hadn’t had time to brood over the myriad of ways he would torture the Togruta before snuffing her life out completely. In the swamp world of hunters, he knew he would find no allies. He needed to rely on Ahsoka Tano, trust her to keep him alive. Well, he didn’t trust her at all, but he knew she required something of him still, so she would do her part, or so he hoped. There was that pesky concept again.

Well, she had kept up her end, and done so a bit too well. He hadn’t been sure of how he would manage to remain cognizant if an anesthetic were administered, but Lady Tano had worked something out with the bog lizards to where they didn’t sedate him, instead injecting him with a horrid fluid that paralyzed him completely. He was unable to move, or even react, but was awake nonetheless for the entire punishing surgical procedure. And pain… faithful Pain, ever constant, ever present. Maul had felt the droids stitching his tissues back together, setting his organs into their correct place, breaking and remaking his fractured bones. Then came an entirely new agony as the medical automatons dismantled his prosthetics and inserted new apparatuses into old lesions, removing precious scar tissue that he had earned decades before, replacing it with cyborganic fusions that his body protested against. He felt the metal connecting into the bone marrow of his vertebrae, pinching against what was left of his spinal cord. It was possibly the worst sensation he had ever experienced, more horrendous even than surviving Naboo. He hadn’t thought that was possible. Perhaps all his torturous existence up until then had been in preparation for that precise moment.

The bacta helped, eventually, although it burned and chilled simultaneously as the liquid went to work accelerating the healing process. Wounds were supposed to mend slowly, in due time, leaving behind their permanent marks upon the skin, yet advancements in technology had procured the miracle fluid that was bacta. Most people experienced relief the moment the ointment was administered, for it contained a small amount of analgesic. Those that were in a grave enough condition where they would require absolute submersion were already blissfully unconscious. Not so with Maul. He felt his tissues rapidly repairing themselves and realized that there was a reason wounds should be allowed to take their time. It allowed the ache to be dispersed over a period, spread thin. The itching, painful agony was made all the worse because he couldn’t even writhe in discomfort.

But all subsided in time, although he couldn’t ascertain how long it took. The only thing that remained was the paralysis, and that was likely worse, for without Pain to distract him, he became acutely aware of his inability to move. He was far too paranoid to allow his mind to drift off to sleep. No, he couldn’t bring his mind to stillness. Not until after he heard Ahsoka Tano’s voice – distorted into an unnatural, androgynous monotone, but he recognized it, nonetheless – speaking softly to him.

“Hey, old man. Can you hear me?” How in chaos was he supposed to answer? However, he knew she hadn’t been expecting him to, and likely just hadn’t known how to initiate the conversation. The Togruta had proceeded to explain their precarious situation with the Rodian government. She tried to offer reassurance, and he couldn’t fathom why. Perhaps she had been speaking more to herself at that point, he figured, except that the next sentence she uttered was: “I’m sorry.”

An apology? No, no, stop ruining our animosity, curse you! He wished he could say he ignored everything she said after that, but it was quite the opposite. His brain – trained by his master from a young age at echoic memorization – hung onto every word. Long after she was interrupted by one of the blasted droids and he had felt the medical pod he was in begin to move, he replayed her words in his mind, over and over. The part of her apology that struck him the most was not where she lamented shooting him, but rather how she wished they had never run into each other again. That was the one thing he could agree with, but something inside him despaired at the notion anyway. His past always came back to haunt him eventually, no matter how much he ran. Perhaps the problem was that he wasn’t trying to get too far from it. And now that his old life had sent Lady Tano to remind him of the potential that had been wasted between them, he savored it. He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d been craving the life he used to lead. His black hearts had leapt at the opportunity to have her wound them once more. He’d missed her terribly – missed what she represented: a challenge. That struggle, that never-ending fight is what he thrived on. He had merely been existing up until that point.

He had still been conscious when the Togruta covered him with something soft and warm. He had never been one to like soft things much, or warmth either, for that matter. Both those things were comfortable, and comfort made the mind complacent and the body weak, or so he had been taught. There was nothing to be gained from such ways. As though to prove the point, shortly afterwards, his mind slipped away, and he lost track of what occurred around him. He must have fallen asleep, for the next thing he knew, he was roused by the monotone of Ahsoka Tano’s mask and her hand upon his arm. Something had gone awry, it seemed, and that something must have been big. For although his eyes had been closed the entire time, he had been able to register a red haze that meant an external light source was shining upon his eyelids. That vermillion blur was now gone, replaced by pitch blackness, and he could no longer hear the whirr of the ship’s engines.

So, this was his present situation. There was no power in the shuttle. Well, naturally, the Rodians had done something to intercept their departure. He was not surprised in the least, and even without the half-Jedi’s assurances that she would find a way to keep him with her (he was not supposed to be content with the notion, yet he would have smiled like an idiot if he’d been able – good thing he wasn’t), he felt no fear. He didn’t even think to reach out to his bled kaiburr; even though his body was relaxed and in complete rest, his mind was exhausted, and he couldn’t gather up the energy. He didn’t even want to bother. Ahsoka Tano was a capable fighter, and he believed her when she told him that she would get him back if the Rodians took him once more.

Which they did, of course, not long after he felt her walk away. Even though he couldn’t see, through the Cosmic Force, he sensed the reptilians’ auras. Six in total. He could smell them, too. The potent musk they emitted was pungent and vinegary: if he remembered his Rodian physiology correctly, that meant they were tense, apprehensive. Soon, that scent would change into the saline smell of surprise and fear once the Togruta got involved. If he had his way, he would make sure that odor fermented to become the sulfurous aroma of unbridled terror.

He was loaded onto some type of gurney and moved. Since he had been trained to map out his surroundings without use of his sight or even the Force, relying instead on his sense of direction and sound, Maul was able to figure out the general layout of the place he was taken to. He determined it could be a building with corridors – such as a space station – but most likely another ship. Larger than Ahsoka Tano’s shuttle, but not as big as a yacht or a freighter. After being taken down one level (he could tell by the slight change in pressure as the elevator descended), he was put into a containment field. Fortunately, these Rodians hadn’t thought to use carbonite freezing instead. Idiots.

The Zabrak wasn’t able to hear much through the buzz of the field generator, and the electric current addled his already tired brain. He might have drifted off to sleep again, if it weren’t for the damned swamp lizards periodically prodding him with something sharp. Not enough to break his skin, but annoying and uncomfortable, nonetheless. Apparently, that was not sufficient fun for the Rodians, for after a moment, he felt the telltale debilitating surge of power from the amped-up electromagnetic field coursing from his wrists and spine up to his brain. It only lasted a few seconds the first time. Then, it came again and didn’t cease. Maul felt as though he were being cooked alive. If it weren’t for the fact that he was well acquainted with pain, he might have lost his mind.

When the torment finally did end, the entire contraption was shut down seconds later. Without the magnetic field keeping him aloft, he collapsed heavily, only to be caught before he hit the ground. Ahsoka Tano had kept her word once more: her arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders as she lowered him carefully. Against his will, Maul’s head drooped forward, stopped by the soft flesh of the Togruta’s lek. His face was so close to her neck, that he could breathe in her scent: slightly sweet and briny, like flowers growing along a coastline. He appreciated the smell of her sweat; it was a welcome change from the noxious odors emitted by the Rodians. “It’s okay,” she told him, “I’ve got you, old man.”

But of course, things were not okay. The former Jedi was ambushed, nearly killed, were it not for the timely arrival of that medic kid who had assisted her when they’d arrived on Rodia. Maul recognized his voice from the ambulance, that stutter that had seemed to him a bit too practiced. Nereno. He had sensed a brooding darkness in the young Rodian’s aura since he met him, hidden beneath his bashful demeanor. At the time, he had been far too weak to voice his opinion, however. Besides, Maul didn’t necessarily find that internal anger to be a bad thing, only unhealthy that the boy kept it hidden. He had potential, despite his lack of Force ability.

The problem was that the kid promptly grew into that potential and turned his ire against Lady Tano. From what the Dathomirian understood of what was going on around him, Nereno had injected the Togruta with the same toxin that was currently paralyzing him.

Oh, no. No, no, no. That wouldn’t do at all. No one touched Ahsoka Tano. A lady of her caliber would not be taken down by some frustrated brat who was too weak to change his situation. As he listened to the boy’s tirade against both his planet’s dictatorial government and the New Republic for their complacency, the Dark Sider determined that he would need to end Cebb Nereno. The youth was justifiably angry, but delusional, and misdirected his rage towards the Togruta. She had her faults, certainly, among them being her stupid sense of compassion that allowed her to lower her guard because she’d thought the medic was nice, and he was sure she likely felt sorry for the lad even in her current state. However, Nereno’s grievances with the Rebellion – now the New Republic Coalition – had nothing to do with Ahsoka Tano. Not that Maul could ascertain. She was innocent.

The Zabrak understood that innocents died all the time. He’d killed quite a few in his day. However, this situation was different, because he knew Ahsoka Tano would have done all within her power to help the Rodian people. Cebb Nereno was attacking the wrong person.

Not to mention, killing Lady Tano was his job. He would allow the honor to go to no one else.

The issue was getting his own body to move. He had been desperately trying to do so, to no avail since the Rodian medic had begun rambling about his brother. Now Nereno had killed two other Rodians – the ones who had been assigned to guard the Dathomirian – and there was no one left in the room for him to target save for the Togruta.

Maul didn’t know what to do. During the entire ordeal – since the former Jedi had arrived to rescue him, really – the Nightbrother had sensed the kaiburr screaming for him. He hadn’t been able to respond properly; something about that neurotoxin was interfering with his connection to the crystals, and the effect was probably exacerbated due to his exhaustion. The only reason the Zabrak had been able to tap into their power during his surgeries was because of the excruciating amount of pain he had been in, which served to strengthen his tether to the Dark Side. Afterward, it had simply been easier to let the kaiburr be and wait for the substance in his blood to run its course. That had obviously been a mistake, as it turned out.

Maul heard an impact and knew that Cebb Nereno had struck the paralyzed Togruta. He was now beyond enraged, yet there was also something else stirring in his breast, a sensation he hadn’t felt since he had last faced his master in battle: despair. He had always been so sure of his abilities; certain he would be able to face and defeat whatever challenge he came across. Yet this… curse these bog lizards! What in chaos had they put in his body‽ Lady Tano – that imp was going to claim her life, rob him of the opportunity to clash with her in combat once more, take what was rightfully his!

Help me…

It was Ahsoka Tano’s voice. What? Had he imagined this? But no, he was sure he had heard her. She had sounded far away, then further ebbing into silence. He got the impression she wasn’t really talking to him. Rather, she was trying to reach someone else through the Force. Her voice came and went, like ocean tides.

Allow me to… awaken…

She was using something as an amplifier. It must be her kyber crystals; there was nothing else. Just as he had been able to use his kaiburr to tap into the Dark Side, she surely was using her own to send out a signal. Foolish Jedi! Who was she expecting would answer her call?

To his shock, someone did. Well, something. The angry shriek of the kaiburr stilled for a moment, as if they were listening attentively to her words. Maul realized they were interfering with whatever she was attempting to do, filtering out her words so he only heard portions of her speech. So he only heard what they wanted him to hear. Almost as though they were using her words to speak to him. Strange. They had never employed that method before. Usually, they just –

What are you waiting for?

An invitation? She just offered one.

                 Will you abandon her the way you did us, your most loyal servants?

Of course, you will.                                                                 

This weakness is the reason why you never surpassed your master. And because of your failure, the succession of Sith was broken.

Failure.                            

                                        How disappointing.

“You’re just an Inquisitor by another name,” Cebb Nereno told the half-Jedi resolutely.

Oh, the irony.

Would you like to hear her last words?

Stop.

Will you beg us for mercy as you did from your brother’s murderer while the corpse still lay warm?

Stop it!

The power has always been there for you to grab, yet you never do so. Now some worthless animal will take the life of YOUR foe… all because you didn’t do so when you had the chance. Pathetic.

Please, don’t do this, Cebb!

Listen to her. Like all weaklings, she pleads in her final moments.          

Begs someone who isn’t you.

Just lie there and allow another to steal your prize.

NO.

The Nightbrother felt something snap inside his brain, like breaking a bone in order to reset it properly. He gnashed his teeth at the sensation, and instantly marveled at how he was able to do so. His skin felt thick and stiff as old bantha leather that had been left out in the suns. Before the ability to move could leave him, he opened his eyes and called to his crystals, demanding that they heel.

Your power is mine, bastards. Do not forget who your master is.

So long as YOU do not… Master.

With a victorious cry, they instantly fed him their dark power, and he stood fluidly. Sparks were raining down from the ceiling. Cebb Nereno either had terrible aim, or the burst of rage from the Nightbrother had caused a telekinetic ripple through the room. It seemed like the latter was the case, for the Rodian was dumbfounded, holding out his weapon at arm’s length and gawking at it like the idiot he was.

Maul wasted no time getting his bearings. Ahsoka Tano was on the floor, propped up against a metal crate in a sitting position before Nereno. The medic, in turn, was standing directly in front of Maul, with his back turned to him. Perhaps the Rodian could feel the ominous waves of dark energy emitting from the Zabrak’s kaiburr, or maybe some basic reptilian instinct caused him to know that something was awry, but whatever the case, Cebb Nereno began to back away from the Togruta on stumbling legs, didn’t stop until he ran into Maul, who stood as still and firm as a wall. It was all he could do to contain his rage.

Then, like releasing tension from a spring, the Dathomirian let loose his aura, enhancing his reflexes. Before the Rodian could realize what was happening to him, Maul had gripped him firmly by his antennae and the spiky quills on his head, then yanked his head back to rest against his chest. Simultaneously, he had reached over and put his hand over the one Nereno was using to hold his blaster rifle and forced the medic to tilt the barrel up until the bayonet on the end of it was up against the Rodian’s chin. It all happened so quickly; he didn’t even give the boy the opportunity to gasp or cry out.

“You should have done as the lady said, kid,” he snarled at Nereno. “Never listen to me.”

A wave of grief hit him then, and he distinctly heard Ahsoka Tano’s voice ring in his head: Don’t do it! However, he ignored her sorrow and her words. In a matter of seconds, it was done. Cebb Nereno was dead, his head skewered on the pike of his own weapon, the muscle spasms that shivered through his body as his nervous system died out causing the Rodian to pull the trigger and shoot himself in the head. Green blood splattered onto Maul, and some primal impulse within the Nightbrother reveled in the sensation. Like Rodians, Zabraks were hunters by nature, and his Dathomirian half had only enhanced those instincts in the species. He felt quite satisfied with himself.

The one who was obviously not pleased in the slightest was Ahsoka Tano. Although her position on the floor had not changed at all, he could feel her eyes upon him and her Living Force quiver around her. She was disgusted. Well, of course she was, what with her Jedi morality and all. What a strange creature. He would never be able to understand such nonsensical compassion.

For a moment, he stared at her. She had moved. There was nothing in her posture to indicate so, but he knew it somehow. He had the sudden urge to rip off the metal mask she was wearing, just to make sure. He knew it was an absurd thought; she shouldn’t be able to so much as sneeze in her condition, if in fact, Nereno had injected her with the same substance used on him. Yet he was certain that was the case. The half-Jedi was moving, ever so slightly, blinking slowly, trying to focus her mind. He could feel it. She tingled in the back of his brain, like an itch. It took him a moment to realize his kaiburr were resonating, but they weren’t alone. The Togruta’s crystals were softly responding: a gentle buzz of communication was occurring between all four gems. From what he could discern, Lady Tano’s kyber were syphoning power from his and feeding it to her Living Force, warding off the effects of the toxin.

Maul took in a deep breath and focused, shutting himself off from the Cosmic Force a bit, just enough to where the kaiburr felt his aura drain away. Yes, he was threatening them, and they knew it.

Enough of that, he growled mentally at the pair of bled stones as he began to walk cautiously towards Ahsoka Tano. Go back to sleep. I will summon you only when needed.

Yes… Master.

As you wish.

Good. Now he was able to focus completely on the situation at hand. Maul stood before the paralyzed Togruta and shook his head, tsking derisively. “Oh, look at you! You disappoint me, Lady Tano.” He waved a hand in the direction of the felled Rodian. “Bested by that scrawny brat? He was not even Force-sensitive!”

Even though he knew she could hear him, there really was no fun in taunting a foe who could not respond in any way. Instead, he squatted next to her and grabbed her head, not being all that careful. The mask was a fascinating contraption, very high-tech. It was smooth, silver with a matte finish. Impervium, by the looks of it. There was a pattern that went down the face in vertical double-stripes, and – taking the square photoreceptor screens of the eyes into account – was strikingly similar to the former Jedi’s natural facial markings. A bit vain, aren’t you? he wanted to ask, but understood his foe enough to realize that wasn’t the case. He knew who she was, after all, who she had been. Nereno had even called her by the alias she had used under the Rebel Alliance: Fulcrum. As with everything about Ahsoka Tano, he was sure the design on the mask was meant as a code to others, possibly her allies.

He began to fiddle with the surface of the face cover, trying to figure out how it worked. There were no buttons anywhere, or any sensors that he could see. Perhaps the entire surface was receptive to touch. Hm… if that were so, where would he install the controls to work the thing? It would need to be somewhere out of the way, where it was unlikely that anything would come in contact with the surface, yet also where it wouldn’t be awkward to reach. After a pause, he traced his thumb along the edge, by her right temple. His hand lingered there, and he pressed down.

Nothing happened.

Well, that didn’t mean he wasn’t onto something. From what he had observed, Ahsoka Tano was right-handed. It made sense that the controls of her mask would be on her dominant side. But perhaps maintained contact with the surface wasn’t the answer. Maul tapped the area twice, saw dim blue lights flicker in the photoreceptor screens. Ah, that was it. He continued to pat the same spot until he heard the click of the locking mechanisms release the straps that went around the Togruta’s head. Satisfied, he reached around to the back of her skull and unfastened the clasps.

Maul glanced over the inner workings of the mask first: the intricate wiring and circuitry were interesting, and he might like to study them further when time permitted. However, time was something he didn’t have to spare at the moment. He turned his attention back to the Togruta.

He was immediately struck by how beautiful she was. He had always known this but had never found himself in such close proximity to her where they weren’t trying to kill each other. She was simply majestic, worthy of his respect. He had to take a second to remind himself that she had also earned his resentment. However, for the moment being, he allowed himself the luxury of admiring her features. He almost didn’t dare touch her.

Gently, he cupped her face in his hand and tilted it up. Her eyes were half-closed, her features artificially relaxed by the toxin in her body. She couldn’t even blink. He knew the sensation, had only recovered from the effects of it himself instants before. Although he had just criticized the Togruta for falling to the Rodian’s ploy due to her empathetic tendencies, he couldn’t help but feel for her now. It frustrated him. He wanted to take pleasure in her predicament, or at least be indifferent to her plight, but instead, he felt a burning flame of rage begin to roar in his breast. She deserved it, he told himself. That and more, for what she had put him through. Not only since he’d confronted her on Tatooine. She was his enemy. He would do well not to forget.

His features hardened as he remembered how those graceful lips had turned up into a scornful smirk when she spoke to him, how she bared her fangs at him, how she bit him like an animal. That is what she saw him as, most likely. The only reason she wasn’t snapping at him now was because she couldn’t. The Zabrak let out his breath forcefully and it was his turn to bare his canines at her with an angry grin. Yes, she deserved this, and before everything was said and done, he would make sure she got far worse.

“Not very pleasant, is it?” he asked her quietly, knowing she couldn’t answer. “It would be so easy to kill you now…” To prove his point, he allowed his hand to slide down and grab hold of her throat. He maintained a firm hold but couldn’t bring himself to squeeze even a little. It was frustrating, for her life was there for him to take. “You took a gamble, Lady Tano,” he told her, “and played our game well, but you have lost. You set everything up for my perfect escape. I can defeat these lizards easily, leave your corpse among theirs, take your ship and disappear. No one would ever be the wiser as to what occurred here.”

It was true, and yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to go through with it. He thought of Nereno, and how the boy was able to take down a warrior such as Ahsoka Tano without much fuss. If the Dathomirian hadn’t interceded when he had, she would be dead. Another corpse, as he had just told her. He wanted her to understand – needed her to see her failings. Only then could she learn and have a real opportunity at facing up against him. “As always, empathy trumps your reason,” he explained. He knew she could hear him, but he hoped she was listening. “This is why Jedi die so easily. Compassion weakens one’s convictions, you know. You lost control of everything the moment you chose to spare my life.”

He finally let her go and watched in frustration as her head flopped forward and down onto her chest. She had no motor function whatsoever. His master had taught him that when an enemy was in that state, the moment was perfect to strike. “Never show mercy, never hesitate, and take every opportunity,” Darth Sidious would say. He would know, for he had taken advantage of just such an opening to kill his own master in his sleep. He had told Maul of the incident soon after he bestowed the Zabrak with the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. Were he alive, Sidious would have commanded that he cut Ahsoka Tano down because she was immobilized and entirely vulnerable. Just as he had been. And when she had seen him in such a state, she had covered him with a blanket, tried to make him comfortable. Took care of him. Maul wouldn’t ever forgive her the transgression of having such an impact on him.

He couldn’t kill her yet. No, not like this. He was not Cebb Nereno, using cowardly methods to conquer his enemies. Maul was a true hunter. And this entire ordeal with Ahsoka Tano had only served to whet his appetite for a real fight. He recalled their powerful clash outside Kenobi’s hut and felt his hearts clutch in his chest. Looking upon her still form, he let his breath out in a hiss, partially annoyed with himself. “Yet, I am as arrogant as your kind is foolishly benevolent. I never did things the easy way.” Wasn’t that the truth! He grunted as he shifted his stance, preparing to stand. It made him acutely aware of his new prosthetics, reminding him that the same conceit he referred to had cost him his lower half. “My boredom is your salvation, Lady Tano,” he muttered, trying to convince himself that this was the only reason he would spare her life. “For now.”

He leaned in and rested his shoulder against her chest, then slipped an arm beneath her thighs and hoisted her up. Getting to his feet, he shifted her weight and then tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her in the same way as he had back on Tatooine. She was heavier than her lithe movements made her appear, but he found that satisfying somehow. It meant she was strong: her slender body composed of nearly pure muscle, not a bit of her physique wasted on soft, subcutaneous fat. Once she was mobile again, she’d prove a worthy adversary, and would provide an interesting challenge. For the moment, he didn’t mind her heft, as he was strong enough to carry at least three times her weight even without the use of the Force, and though he was mentally exhausted, his body was well-rested after his time in the bacta tank. Still, he would rather bear most of her weight on his back in order to keep one arm free. He wasn’t sure how many bounty hunters still lurked aboard the two ships. It was most likely that Ahsoka Tano had subdued the entire aircrew, but he would rather err on the side of caution.

Maul moved quickly throughout the ship, replaying the route he had mapped out in his mind when he was brought onboard. He fortunately ran into no interference on the way to the boarding tube, and the only Rodians he saw were two bounty hunters who had been tied up and left on the floor of the T-6. In the darkness of the shuttle, he made his way to the med-bay and set the Togruta down. Again, none too gently.

“I suggest you try and sleep,” he said. “I do not know how quickly the toxin will run its course through your body, but it is apt to be a while before you can move.” He shrugged. “Quite frankly, I have lost track of time myself.”

He turned to walk away from her, but then stopped himself and returned to her side. “Ah, yes. I almost forgot.” He remembered watching the former Rebel spymaster attentively as she had hidden his halved weapon pieces into the fabric sleeve covering her rear lek. He now slid his hand inside it and gingerly retrieved the two segments of his hilt. Their heft in his hands felt good, and he grinned. Finally, they were back where they belonged. He took one half in his other hand and brought it down to his side, while he held the other in front of Ahsoka Tano’s face, just before her half-closed eyelids. He wanted to make sure she could see what he was about to do.

He pushed the activation button and there was a slight crackle at the severed end as a scarlet blade of energy emerged from the other side, strong and unwavering. He felt the kaiburr inside roar in approval, a vibration that went up the Zabrak’s arm and into his core.

“I am willing to bet you thought this did not work anymore,” he told her with a smirk. “Worry not. We will get our proper duel yet. In the meantime, make sure you get enough rest. You are going to need it, before all is said and done.” Chuckling to himself, Maul shut down the saber hilt and took it in his other hand, leaving him free to reach over to the Togruta and slip his hand under her leather aegis. Even if he hadn’t seen her put her own lightsabers there, he could sense the kyber crystals inside. “It is best if I hold on to these for you,” he added smugly as he took them, grinning widely. He hoped she could get just a taste of the despair he’d felt when she had refused to let him plummet to his death on Mandalore.

Not satisfied, he put all of the weapons upon the small table beside the slab Lady Tano lay upon and secured her tightly in place – a bit more than was necessary – with the restraining straps. He turned once more to leave and almost tripped on something that was tangled up around his metal feet. Glancing down, he realized it was the pair of blankets the ex-Jedi had tucked around him hours earlier. He paused, a sense of frustration coming over him. Curse her and her pity! He didn’t need it, just as he hadn’t needed to be swaddled like a child! There was simply no point to her actions…!

Hastily, he reached down and picked them both up, the texture of the fibers on his fingers making him recall that same sensation on his exposed torso. He could almost feel the gentle pat on his shoulder and hear Ahsoka Tano’s voice as she quietly murmured through her mask: “There you go, Gramps.”

Oh, curse her a million times!

He tossed one of the blankets over her form and balled the other one up roughly before shoving it under her head. His hearts were hammering uncomfortably in his chest and he glared at her for a moment. What was this disgusting feeling? Is this what the blasted Jedi referred to as compassion? Better not to make a habit out of it. Already, he could feel something inside him tremble slightly, like a burgeoning weakness.

Before leaving, he carefully brushed tattooed fingers down her eyelids, closing them completely. It made him feel more at ease to know she could not see him. He was safe from her in the darkness. Then, he leaned over her, bringing his lips close to her montrals and catching a whiff of her flowery scent again. The trembling inside him intensified, but he shoved it aside. Perhaps he was merely eager to fight her again. The thought certainly made his senses awaken in anticipation.

“I will share a secret with you, if I may,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “There really was not much to do in a desert world, other than die of thirst and collect sand in my gears. I have enjoyed this little venture of ours. Such a shame it will end soon with your death.” He sighed, the thought of it all ending suddenly killing his eagerness, leaving him feeling somewhat desolate. “I have… missed you, Lady Tano.”

He took up the weapons again and walked away from her, unable to stand that forlorn emotion gripping at his being. Why had he even told her such a thing? It was the truth, but a truth he hadn’t been planning on revealing. He realized that his existence on Tatooine thus far had been dull, for the most part, and although he had tried to move beyond his gilded past, nothing had been able to satisfy his craving for the infinite struggle that was the amassment of power. Ahsoka Tano showing up when she did had awakened that yearning. She was a tether to his past, after all.

There was one thing he had been taught to do in order to cope when his emotions went astray. Sith were not like the foolish Jedi, who denied their sentiments completely. Rather, Maul had been taught to control them fully. He could not master the Dark Side, after all, if he did not first master himself. And because the Sith fueled their power by their passions, whenever the rare occasion came about where he felt something he could not quite explain or control, he had been trained to warp the feeling instead into another, more easily manageable state of mind.

In the Zabrak’s case, that had always been anger.

As he came up to the pair of unconscious, bound Rodians in the shuttle’s hallway, he allowed his desolation to transform into ire, then ignited one of his hilt halves and with a casual flick of his wrist, took the poor bastards’ heads clean off. They never even regained consciousness.

It was a lowly thing, he knew, to take the life of an adversary in such a manner. Cowardly. It was something he couldn’t bring himself to do to Ahsoka Tano just moments before, but this was different, he told himself. These were merely grunts, unworthy of his time. Despite the shriek of approval coming from the kaiburr, Maul’s anger quickly dissipated. That had been no challenge at all. He was merely harvesting Life Force for the Netherworld. However, he didn’t have the time to waste on insignificant lackeys. He had larger prey in mind.

He used his connection to the Cosmic Force in order to quickly locate the remaining Rodians. Ahsoka Tano, he saw, had killed one in the cockpit. All others were stunned or knocked unconscious, save for the three that Cebb Nereno had killed. Maul promptly decapitated the entire aircrew, even those who were already dead. Once that was done, he gathered up all the heads – he even went back to the T-6 for the two in the corridor – and brought them to the cockpit. He also took the two dead Rodians’ bodies and their blaster rifles from the Togruta’s ship and carried them back to the bounty hunters’ vessel. He dumped them both off at the entrance to the airlock of the assault boat, then  took the bayonet off one of the weapons and used it to meticulously stab the corpses along their carotid arteries so they could bleed out, as lightsaber cuts were instantly cauterized and produced no gore. For what he was about to do, Maul required a mess.

He took the green blood that was flowing out of the cadavers and smeared it onto himself in broad swaths that distorted his tattoos. He had studied Rodian culture in his youth and knew it well. By doing this ritual, he was claiming not only the lives of the bounty hunters but displaying his obvious superiority. It would also send a signal to others of the species that he was not quite done. The blood of felled enemies served as warpaint, and the Nightbrother was definitely gearing up for battle.

He took the disembodied heads and arranged them on the main control board of the ship, lining them up neatly in a row so they could all be seen when the communication holoprojector was activated. He then took some gear from the Rodian corpses and attached them to a utility belt, which he donned. The lightsabers, he secured to it as well. Ahsoka Tano’s two weapons on his left, his own on his right, for ease of access. Before taking command of the assault boat and relaying a signal to the Rodian Home Fleet, he sat back in the main pilot’s chair and admired his handiwork. When he was ready, he took one of the halves of his saberstaff in his hand – the one that had served as the top portion of his weapon when it had been disguised as a cane, as the handle had become the most recognizable aspect of his saberstaff to those in the underground – and adjusted his stance. Just as he had been about to reach out and activate the holoprojector, he felt Ahsoka Tano’s aura touch his own.

Hers was not a hostile attempt at reaching him. On the contrary, it was humble and gentle, and just a tad curious. Irately, he growled and shoved back against her presence with his Life Force, like trying to brush off an insect. However, her energy flowed back to him again instantly, a bit more forcefully this time, carrying a lingering sadness. This time, he even heard her voice as clearly as though she were standing beside him.

I have wronged you. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. Please, don’t make this worse.

Maul cringed despite himself, and he scowled. She sounded much too cognizant for someone who was paralyzed and mentally stunned by some neurolysin. Was it possible that her Togruta physiology, coupled with her power in the Force, had allowed her to overcome the effects of the toxin? Impossible! Yet, he was made uneasy enough by the psychic intrusion to where he pushed himself up from the seat and looked around, his golden eyes scanning the doorway.

However, the moment he got to his feet, he felt her presence depart abruptly. A fluke, then. Or perhaps she had exhausted herself in her attempt. He closed his eyes for a second and focused. Yes, he could still sense her Living Force from the direction of her ship, so she was alive. That was all he needed to know at the moment. Whatever that strange connection had been, it would have to wait. He had pressing matters to attend to.

He retook his seat and flipped on the main communication channel. As he suspected, he saw that the vessel automatically connected to the RHF network back on Rodia.

«Karstag One, Report.» A voice crackled over the transceiver in Rodese as soon as the link was established. «Was the mission successful? Has the asset been secured?»

«Oh, I am feeling quite secure at the moment,» Maul replied with a smirk. He purposefully used the native tongue of the bounty hunters. He wanted them to know they would not be able to hide behind their dialect, as he was sure they’d done when dealing with Ahsoka Tano.

A few seconds of stunned silence went by where the Dathomirian could hear the choked-off, shallow breathing of the operator on the other end. He was certain the poor bastard had no idea as to how to proceed, so he decided to make things easier for him. «Patch me through to your worthless leader,» the Zabrak growled. «You will do so now; I will accept no excuses or delays. You will provide visual confirmation. I want to see Navik the Red’s expression when he realizes who he set his people up against.» He pressed the button that activated the holo-recorder of the cockpit. Now he knew the Rodians could see him fully. There was a squeak from the operator as the RHF received his holo transmission, then the line went dead.

Maul relaxed. In spite of the initial reaction from the Rodian, he was sure he would receive an audience with the dictator anyway, possibly within the next few seconds. He knew Navik’s kind, had dealt with filth like him before, and conquered them all. Cretins like the Grand Protector were mainly bluster: they initially established themselves through intimidation and terror, but once they had attained power, usually became dependent on their immediate lackeys. It was the Goa Ato that served as the enforcers for Navik, they who were truly feared among the populace, if only the oppressed masses took the time to mull over their situation. Without the Rodian Bounty Hunter’s Guild, Navik had nothing. And from what Maul had gathered while paralyzed, Cebb Nereno had already eliminated the Guild Master. There was no reason for the Zabrak not to take credit for the kill, though.

As he had expected, the transceiver didn’t stay silent for long. The holoprojector on the control board activated and the image appeared of a wiry, older Rodian with a long, narrow face and a slender snout that reached past his chin. Even through the faded blue hues of the hologram, Maul made out the distinct birthmark that ran across the dictator’s face, inspiring his alias. Navik eyed the Zabrak now with fierce charcoal eyes.

«You are brazen, attacking the Rodian Home Fleet while in Tyrius,» the Grand Protector said at last. His voice was gravelly and harsh, as though the warlord always spoke in a growl. Maul was not intimidated.

«It is you who has stepped outside your bounds,» the Dark Sider replied. «I have forgiven your pitiful attempts upon my life in the past, Navik of Chattza Clan, but this time, you have gone too far.»

It was a delicate act, Maul knew, dealing with warlords and strongmen. There would be a back-and-forth of words, each allowing the other side to build up their prowess and might, trying to intimidate without resorting to actual violence. He sighed. He was starkly reminded of the lack of his brother in such instances. Just as Navik had his Goa Ato, Maul’s enforcer had been Savage Opress, and a damn good one he’d been, at that. It was rather tedious that now the Zabrak had to play both roles in negotiations such as this, although his rise through the underground ranks were proof that he made do just fine on his own. Time to see if the Rodian dictator could say the same, standing alone without his martinet. «Look around,» the Dathomirian drawled, leaning back into the pilot’s seat, and gesturing around extravagantly with his left hand. «How your mightiest have fallen before me. Not all the Supreme Hunters of Rodia have been able to detain me, nor will they ever. Your Guild Master’s head rests here among the others: an adornment I put together especially for you. I hope it is to your liking.»

Navik’s bulbous eyes widened further as he took in the detail of the carnage, his snout twitching to the side as he tried to keep it from flapping. Maul could almost taste the briny pheromones through the transceiver. «What is it that you want?» he demanded in the end, his voice tight. Good. Maul was glad the dictator had been able to move beyond his desire for posturing and got straight to the point.

«I am a humble man,» the Zabrak said casually. «What I desire is merely what I am owed. You put a price on my head, Navik.» He leaned forward with a snarl, golden eyes narrowing dangerously. «I want it liquidated.»

The Rodian faltered. «I am afraid I do not follow,» he said, but Maul knew he was lying. It seemed Navik the Red couldn’t help himself; he had to try his word game.

«Fulcrum was savvy enough to keep my identity secret,» the Nightbrother growled impatiently. «How many did you tell of my existence?»

«None, save for the top members of the RHF and the Guild. You have my word. I wanted to await confirmation of your capture before proceeding.»

«With an auction, I presume?»

The Rodian refused to answer, the silence between them growing uncomfortably long. Finally, the dictator spoke, blinking slowly as he considered his words. «You have now done more than I ever could to oust your continued survival. By engaging with a direct emissary from the New Republic, half the galaxy will come to know you are still alive, Kuvik.»

«Fulcrum… has been dealt with,» Maul said with a shrug. To prove his point, he reached down to the left side of the seat and produced Ahsoka Tano’s impervium mask, which he had confiscated earlier when he’d returned to the lower deck to collect the Rodians’ heads. It was now smeared with green blood, as everything else aboard was. The Zabrak brought the cover up to his own face and pretended to put it on (though it was far too small for him, of course, as the Togruta had a much more delicate cranial structure than he did, despite her montrals), peeking over the top of it maliciously at the warlord. «The dead do not speak, Navik of Chattza Clan. If what you say is the truth, and you have kept the information of my survival contained within your planet, I have already eliminated many of those in the know, both from your pathetic Home Fleet and your Bounty Hunter’s Guild. I will soon deal with the New Republic, including your senate representative.»

«Dor Wieedo knows nothing!» the dictator gasped, this time unable to stop his snout from flapping noticeably. Maul understood why Navik would want to protect the senator. Not for any true sentiments of comradery or allegiance, but merely because with the Goa Ato Master eliminated, his list of loyal servants grew thin.

«Do not lie to me, kwazel, for I have not survived this long by being a fool!» the Zabrak roared. He had long lost the practice of insulting rivals using petty names, but he made an exception this time. Rodians were known to compare those they thought inferior to themselves to the native fauna, and Maul took real pleasure in calling Navik a mindless slug. «Your senator is very involved in this entire scheme, for who else would be the direct contact between Fulcrum and the New Republic? If you wish for this Dor Wieedo to keep his pathetic hide on his body, silence him, or I will.»

«He will keep quiet,» Navik immediately responded, a slight quiver in his quills. «I will make sure of it.»

«He had better,» the Dathomirian snapped, then went on to add: «Now, who in the New Republic was involved with Fulcrum? That spy organization used to exist under the Rebel Alliance, not the New Republic Coalition.»

«I… I do not know,» the Rodian stammered uneasily. «Wieedo was contacted by Sinjir Rath Velus, the primary advisor to the chancellor, which leads me to believe this was being kept quiet on all levels, even militarily.» Almost as an afterthought, the warlord added, «The funds that were deposited into my account with the Banking Clan didn’t even come from the Treasury. The chancellor funded the operation herself.»

«From one personal trust to another, I assume?» Maul frowned thoughtfully. He wanted to ask if the rumors on Tatooine were true, that the New Republic was now headed by none other than Mon Mothma, lead Rebel strategist and disgraced Imperial Senator. His former master had put a hefty bounty on her head, during the early days of the Empire, which to the Zabrak meant Sidious had feared her. He turned out to be right in doing so, it seemed. However, Maul didn’t want to ask too many questions of the Rodian, for in doing so, he would be acknowledging his degree of ignorance on current galactic matters. He had to appear omnipotent in front of the dictator in order to intimidate. «There must be no trace left that I have ever been in Tyrius, let alone Rodia,» he said instead. «As I am sure the account where you had the credit deposited into was not a governmental one, you are to return those funds immediately.»

The warlord scowled, his black eyes at last igniting with something akin to real fury. «The cost of your treatment was astronomical!» the Rodian growled. «Our best medical technology and facilities were provided, services that even I have not made use of. The deficit to our Treasury cannot be –»

«You never meant for the wealth you received to go to the planet’s government, let alone its people,» the Dathomirian interrupted off-handedly. «As always, you were going to utilize Rodia’s resources for your own personal gain. Return the money, Navik. This is not a cordial request. Then again…» he added with a cold smirk, «if part of your grievance is that you never got to enjoy the full range of services your surgical droids offer, I can make it so you require their intervention if you refuse me.»

After a moment, the Rodian sat back in his chair with a defeated sigh, steeping his long fingers before his face. «And with this, are we even?» he asked dryly.

Maul chuckled, allowing his shoulders to shake noticeably, and shook his head. «Of course not. As I told you before: I want what I am owed. An attempt on my life is not repaid merely by silence and money.»

Navik snarled. «I ask again, then: what do you want?» he demanded tersely.

«Simply what your own culture demands: a life for a life,» the Nightbrother replied, his grin widening.

«You have, under your own admittance, slaughtered my best bounty hunters, including Master Phex Crupp, leader of the Goa Ato. Are you not sated?»

«Do you not know who I am?» the renegade Dark Sider whispered, eyes gleaming ominously.

«Kuvik,» the Rodian replied, calling the Zabrak by the Rodese word for shadow. «The one bounty I have yet been unable to claim.»

The Dathomirian stood to his full height and brought his halved hilt before him, making sure the holoprojector caught the image of the curved emitter clearly before igniting the blade. He knew the dictator would recognize the Inquisitorius design. «And did it ever occur to you that Emperor Palpatine never stopped hunting me because he feared me, because I was his equal, a monster of his own making?» He observed with satisfaction as the warlord’s ebon eyes filled with dread and he cowered in his seat. «Know this, Navik the Red of Chattza Clan, for I will say this only once. Consider yourself privileged to be among the few living to know that I am Darth Maul, Dark Lord of the Sith, last bearer of the lineage of Bane, and Keeper of the Rule of Two.» He knew most of what he’d said made no sense whatsoever to the reptilian sentient, but it didn’t matter. The important thing was that Navik, like all self-respecting Rodians, understood the importance of titles, and with his close ties to the Empire and the Inquisitors, was likely at least somewhat familiar with the Sith. The Zabrak could tell that he had gotten his point across, for the warlord bowed his head and trembled, unable to maintain eye contact any longer. «The life of one Sith Lord is worth more than the measly existence of an entire star system,» the Dathomirian went on contemptuously, withdrawing his blade and clipping the hilt to his belt. «I could eradicate every single Rodian in the galaxy, and still, it will not be enough for your transgressions against me.»

Navik tried to speak, but only a sound approximating a squeak escaped his snout. In the end, he croaked out, «Keep the ship, please, only just…» his voice trailed away, as though already guessing what the Zabrak’s response would be.

Maul laughed harshly. «It says much about you, kwazel, that you see more value in a vessel than in the lives of your people. How many starships is Chattza worth?»

The Rodian’s head snapped up, terror in his eyes. «P-please… my Lord…! Please spare my clan! There are women and children –»

«As I am sure there have been in the countless clans you’ve slaughtered over the years,» Maul said stonily. Internally, he was quite pleased at the dictator’s shift in attitude. Now Navik was acting as what he truly was: a slimy ghest, opportunistic and violent in his youth, now rendered weak by years of wealth and power. He had no way to stand against Maul, and they were both aware of it. The Zabrak sighed. Despite the entertainment he was receiving at the behest of the warlord, he didn’t have the time or energy to spare required to conquer an entire planet of warriors. He had tried that before, and things hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped. Even with Ahsoka Tano incapacitated this time around, another siege was the last thing he needed. He didn’t want to rule over anyone or anything anymore, really. Been there, done that. «I do not need this ship,» he said at last. «I have secured Fulcrum’s shuttle, which will do nicely for now, until I can upgrade to something more inconspicuous. And as I mentioned, I am not a fool. I have no use for a vessel that is registered under your government’s jurisdiction and can therefore be traced. What do I want? Well, I repeat my previous assessment: a life for a life. And since mine is worth more than most, I will take an entire Rodian clan as payment, and I would appreciate your haste in providing it.»

Navik stared at him blankly for a few seconds, his snout agape. «A-any clan…?» he ventured to ask at last.

Maul sighed dramatically, walking over to the row of heads upon the dashboard. «Well, since you have asked…» he said, allowing his voice to trail off. «According to the rules of your people’s wargames, one clan must hunt another in a specific manner approved by both. I am a clan unto myself, for I am all that is left of my kind.»

«The Sith?» Navik asked.

«Sure,» the Zabrak replied, although he had been referring to the extinct Night Clans of Dathomir. Still, he doubted the Rodian would know anything about that. «By you sending these hunters after me,» he gestured at the disembodied heads before him, «you essentially set several clans against one at once. And since I conquered them all in battle…» he shrugged. «They are now mine.»

«But you claimed to only want one!» Navik couldn’t stop himself from crying out.

«Yes, fine,» the Dark Sider said, rolling his eyes. «But I get to choose which one, and when I do, you will bring the entirety of the clan to me here, in a sizeable craft to hold them all. This vessel will be unregistered and unmarked. Those who are not currently on the planet will be notified of my new ownership of them and will thereafter be released from Tyrius. I will find a way to track them down and gather them to me. These Rodians will forever after belong to me. The Rodian government, including whoever succeeds you eventually, will not be allowed to go after them. You are never to include this clan in future wargames, nor will any bounties be placed upon them. If I discover you have broken the terms of this verbal contract, I will personally dismantle everything you have ever fought for. Furthermore, I will hunt down all in your lineage and murder them before your eyes. You, I will leave for last. You will suffer greatly, Navik the Red of Chattza Clan, if you dare to defy me. Am I understood?»

The Rodian dictator trembled and sputtered, his antenna and quills quivering. Maul knew he wanted to refuse but was far too terrified to do so. In the end, he merely nodded, then sank deeper into his seat, covering his face with his hands. Not satisfied, the Zabrak pressed him: «Say it,» he growled.

«I understand, my Lord,» Navik groaned from behind his fingers. «It will be done exactly as you’ve instructed.»

«Very good,» the Dathomirian said smoothly, highly pleased with himself. It was satisfying to know he was still a master at intimidation. He walked all along the row of severed heads, as though contemplating each one thoughtfully. In truth, there was only one clan he had been interested in from the get-go, and he eventually stopped before Cebb Nereno’s head and picked it up. «This one was scrawny and weak,» he said with a smirk. «Did not even put up a fight. His people should be easy to control. I will take whatever clan this kid belonged to.»

Navik peeked at Maul from between his fingers, and immediately afterwards, his hands dropped down in surprise. The warlord’s features went from dread to shock and finally, elation. «Nereno was onboard‽» he gasped, his black eyes lighting up. «He had no clearance to get offworld!» He hooted softly to himself, then got his giddiness under control once he caught sight of Maul’s skeptical expression. «The Nereno clan is small, nearly extinct,» the dictator offered weakly. Of course, the Zabrak already knew this, having listened to the despairing rantings of the young medic before the fool turned his ire on the Togruta. However, he found it gratifying that Navik would be so forthcoming about the clan’s situation. He was obviously so afraid of Maul, that he didn’t want the Dathomirian to think he was purposefully offering him defective goods. «You may want to choose another clan, my Lord.»

«I am a person of my word,» Maul said dismissively. «The Force led me to pick this one, and I aim to keep my end of the contract. Nereno, you said? Bring them all to me.»

«Two females,» Navik restated. «Just so you understand what I mean by extinct.»

«Yes, and I am sure you are the reason for their genocide,» the Zabrak replied. «I stand by my choice.»

«If you insist,» the Rodian said, shrugging.

«You seem to enjoy enslaving your own kind,» Maul told him. «Be glad that I am leaving more of them for you to keep. Now, I await the arrival of my payment. I will even allow you to bypass the requirement of bringing them aboard an unmarked ship, since I can accommodate two more passengers on the shuttle. Oh, and I did see that there is another RHF vessel hovering just beside this one. Instruct the crew that they are not to interfere in any manner or attempt to engage either this ship or my new shuttle. If they do, I will kill them all. Since you value your fleet ships so much, I suggest you make them understand how undesirable the situation would be if you were to lose another craft.»

Without waiting for a reply, he terminated the communication, then returned to the pilot’s chair and sat down heavily. He was far more tired than he wanted to admit. Idly, he glanced down at Cebb Nereno’s head on his lap, then hastily closed the dead Rodian’s eyelids. The large, blue orbs of the young medic were dulled in death, and he looked peaceful in an eerie sort of way. His struggle was over. Maul felt a slight spasm in his chest as he thought over the things the young reptilian sentient had expressed. He had been right to be angry, and his effort to save and provide for his tiny clan reminded the Dathomirian of how he’d lost his own people. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to save the Night Clans of his home world – at the time when it happened, he hadn’t even been back on Dathomir, and when he found the decimated villages, he never tried to gather survivors of the immediate aftermath, so focused had he been on seeking personal revenge on Kenobi – and he probably wouldn’t be able to keep the Nerenos from dying out either, but at least he could remove the last two members of that clan from under the oppressive thumb of Chattza. He owed it to the kid, or so he felt, for Cebb Nereno had taken his advice and died for it, acting in desperation because he had something to fight for. Someone to protect. What would he have done, if he’d had the opportunity to oppose the Separatists’ droid army for the off-chance that he could save even one of his kin, let alone two? Absentmindedly, the Zabrak ran his hand softly over the young medic’s quills in an affectionate gesture. When he realized what he was doing, he stood abruptly, cradling the severed head in his arms, and headed back to the T-6.

The small shuttle was still dark, and the ambience inside had grown colder still. Maul didn’t mind either thing. Dathomirians had excellent night vision, and Zabraks in general were quite hardy against atmospheric conditions. He wasn’t bothered at all. Still, he supposed it was best if, while he waited for the Rodians to arrive, he made sure the small ship was still fully operational. He left Cebb Nereno’s head atop the small countertop beside the med-bay slab where Ahsoka Tano lay and leisurely walked to the cockpit. He was in no hurry. If, as he suspected, the Togruta had tried to exit Tyrius the same way she had entered it, Maul had about an hour and a half of wait time before the RHF reached them where they were currently. He had plenty of time to prepare for their arrival.

To his relief and satisfaction, the T-6’s systems started up without much issue. Apparently, before getting herself incapacitated, Lady Tano had managed to activate the Rodian ship’s inductive coupling and transfer power to her vessel. From the initial readouts, Maul could see that the bounty hunters had hit her with an ion blast, but nothing seemed permanently damaged.

Once he got the matrix back online, however, the Zabrak was unable to get the ship’s controls to respond. Everything was encrypted. He cursed under his breath. Well, of course. His foe was a former spymaster, after all. Guessing that the half-Jedi probably carried her clearance codes on her person (it’s what he would have done, in any case), he returned to the med-bay and stared at her for a moment. He hesitated, unsure if the Togruta was still cognizant. Ultimately though, he reached out for her gauntleted arm: he had seen that it had a small holoprojector, which meant it was probably connected wirelessly to her ship’s motherboard.

The straps he had applied to her made it difficult to get a good look at the gantlet, so he removed the one that pinned her arm against her torso. Maul frowned, still doubtful whether Ahsoka Tano was aware of him grabbing at her paralyzed body. He wanted to mentally prod her consciousness to make sure but decided against it in the end. He wasn’t too keen on hearing her voice so clearly in his mind again. The notion made him uncomfortable, for not since Sidious had someone been able to do so. Before her death, even Talzin had only spoken to him from the Spirit Realm when Maul reached out to her in meditation. Still, the Zabrak decided to swallow his discomfort and pull the Togruta’s arm to him, turning it slightly as he did so in order to get a better view of the small computer screen embedded into it. He made sure to not touch any part of her hand, even though she was wearing gloves, for he felt he was already abusing her personhood. He remembered being in her state: how terrifyingly vulnerable he had felt both during the grueling hours of surgeries and afterwards, when all was still. In those moments, Lady Tano had only ever tried to reassure him, make him feel at ease. He didn’t want to repay her by –

Wait, why was he even thinking about being fair to his enemy? To reciprocate her kindness? What in chaos was wrong with him‽ No sooner had he managed to bypass her vessel’s clearance codes through the gauntlet, than the Dathomirian hastily strapped her arm down again, even more tightly than before, convincing himself that doing so brought him grim satisfaction. She deserved what she got, he reminded himself.

Once the T-6 was up and running, Maul returned to the Rodian ship, then walked down the hallway to the elevator and took the lift down. Once there, he retrieved Ahsoka Tano’s blaster – which she had dropped in the scuffle – and holstered it. He had to make certain he left nothing behind that could be traced to either the Togruta or himself. He also took Cebb Nereno’s body, picking up the slender corpse in his arms and carrying it against his chest. He got back to the shuttle and realized he had nowhere to put the young medic save for the floor. Placing the body on the deck of the med-bay, next to the table where the Togruta was strapped down, Maul decided to look around the small vessel and find something appropriate in which to wrap the corpse. He did not plan on hiding Nereno’s death from his clan when they arrived – quite the opposite: he needed them to understand that he had killed their kin – but there was no reason to treat the boy’s body with disrespect. If anything, had things unfolded differently, Maul would have spared the kid, most likely. Such a shame that he hadn’t been Force-sensitive. He could have taught the boy a thing or two.

Maul kept his rummaging to the immediate area of the cockpit and med-bay. He discovered a small, recessed maintenance pit along the wall. His gaderffii was leaning against it, along with his cycler rifle and a small rucksack he had noticed the Togruta carrying around on Tatooine. Curious, he opened up the cleansing tank embedded into the wall and peeked inside. There were some clothes within – presumably Ahsoka Tano’s – as well as the pale travelling cloak she had been wearing when he found her outside Kenobi’s hut and, most importantly, the old leather tarp she had used to transport him in after she shot him. He took this out of the tank and looked it over, assessing its usability. The washing cycle had ruined the hide, leaving it cracked and stiff. It had also shrunken a bit, he was sure. Still, it remained large enough for what he required of it.

He returned to the med-bay with the tarp and spread the material on the floor, smoothing it out as much as possible. As he did so, he noticed faded splotches on the leather – his own blood, proof of his near-death experience at the hands of Ahsoka Tano. A bit poetic, he supposed, that now the medic’s flesh would mingle with his in some way. During life, Cebb Nereno had been Maul’s kindred by their dark rage and now they were bound through death, connected by blood. Some part of Maul would always remain with the young Rodian. He sighed. When in chaos had he become such a sentimental old coot?

The Zabrak carefully transferred the body onto the material, then walked over to the cabinet where the head still rested and took it over to the tarp on the floor. He arranged the boy’s skull back onto his neck as best he could before folding the leather around the cadaver. Muttering to himself, Maul returned to the cabinet and pulled open the drawers just beneath the countertop. Inside, he found gauze and bandage tape. He took the adhesive material to the covered body and shoddily fastened the tarp closed. He knew it wouldn’t hold well, for the stiffness in the material made it quite unmanageable and inflexible. Any rough movement was likely to cause the leather to unfurl, revealing its grotesque contents. Ah, well. There was nothing else Maul could do; at least, not with the time on hand.

With the remaining hour or so he had before the Rodians arrived, the Nightbrother took to exploring Ahsoka Tano’s ship. No, no, no, no, he corrected himself. This is my ship now. Yes, he would keep it once he eliminated her, leaving one room the way she had it now, as a tribute of sorts. He smirked to himself as he walked the length of the shuttle and examined each section, contemplating which of the rooms would be the one to remain the same. The circuit room? Ha, the refresher.

He was somewhat disappointed, but not at all surprised, to see that the Togruta kept her surroundings neat and austere. Typical Jedi humility on display. How dreary. Even his cavern back on Tatooine had more of a homely touch than her quarters. The only thing that stood out at all in her room was a mural that had been painted onto the inside of the door.

It was an abstract piece in a flurry of brilliant colors that Maul found garish and difficult to stare at for long. In the center of that glittery mess was the symbol for the Rebel Alliance, modified to include the Togruta’s facial markings, and near the very top, the silhouette of some type of bird. Judging by its shape, Maul assumed it was probably a convor. These figures were the only things to be done in simple white, outlined in dark blue, reminiscent of Ahsoka Tano’s montrals and lekku.

Overall, Maul found it quite hideous, yet familiar as well, and not only because of what the mural was meant to represent. He had seen similar creations before yet couldn’t quite ascertain from where. It uncomfortably brought Mandalore to mind. Ugh, once he revamped this entire ship, that painting would be the first thing to go. Although… seeing as how it was the only thing personalized in the entire shuttle, perhaps he would keep it. With severe modifications, of course. A new color scheme was definitely in order, at the very least.

Maul had only just finished his entire self-provided tour when the proximity sensors of the T-6 began to go off. A larger vessel was approaching. Ah, the Rodians had arrived! He returned to the assault boat via the boarding tube and entered the cockpit, opening the communication channel. The moment he hailed the approaching vessel, the voice of an unknown pilot responded: «K-Karstag One, this is Svaper Four. We… w-we are approaching your position now.»

«Is Navik onboard?»

«N-no, negative, my Lord. Sir. My Lord.» Poor bastard didn’t seem to know how to address him properly, and he was obviously terrified. «B-but, your, um, cargo is here, as promised.»

«Ah, so your leader is a coward, just as I thought. A coward, but a wise one. Very well, proceed to dock. As this vessel is currently already attached to Fulcrum’s ship via a boarding tube, you will be using the top hatch to connect, I assume?»

«Yes, my Lord. We will begin docking at once. Please, um, stand by. Sir.»

A few minutes later, the entire assault boat shuddered as the magnetic docking clamps from the new arrival attached themselves to the hull. Soon afterwards, he heard scratching sounds from above as another tube was lowered onto where he presumed the top airlock was. It sounded as though it was coming from the main corridor. Maul left the cockpit to wait in the hallway, where he quickly found the top hatch in the ceiling. Seconds later, it opened with a groan and a ladder extended down and stopped about a meter from the floor.

There was a pause, then a gruff voice growled, «Get moving!», and that was how Maul first met what remained of the Nereno clan. A pair of slender legs with smallish feet (for a Rodian, anyway) that trembled visibly with each step descended first. The girl was so afraid, she missed the final rung altogether and stumbled to the ground. The rest of her was as thin as her legs, and catching sight of the Zabrak’s metal prosthetics, she turned her head up to stare at him with large, violet eyes. Her snout was flapping, and her antennae pressed flat against her head in fear. Her smell was quite salty. Maul looked down at her impassively and didn’t offer to help her up.

Then, seeing another set of legs beginning to climb down the ladder (these were much shorter and covered in a long tunic), the young female scrambled to stand and help the older Rodian down. No sooner were the two standing inside the assault boat, than a few tattered bags were tossed down after them. Maul regarded the pair quietly while the females managed to catch some, then picked the others up. There were only a total of four rucksacks, and none looked very full. The girl took three of them while the older woman shouldered the smallest one. The Zabrak waited a few seconds, but no one else came down to join them, so he approached the ladder and called up: «Wait five minutes before sending anyone to take command of your ship,» he instructed. «Whosoever descends down before that time will be cut down. Understood?»

«Sir! I mean, yes, my Lord!»

These Rodians were comical in their terror. If he weren’t pressed for time, he would have greatly enjoyed toying with them. As it were, he felt the urge to depart soon. Although his kaiburr were silent for the moment, he could sense them reverberating slightly, as though holding their breath. They were anticipating something, making Maul want to avoid remaining in one place for too long. He turned to the women and said nothing to them, merely jerking his head in the direction he wanted them to follow him in. Without a word, and with trembling frames, they followed. He led them to the boarding tube that led to Lady Tano’s – no, his  – ship and gestured silently that they should board it while he remained at the entrance to the assault boat.

«Wh-what about… Cebb?» asked the girl, hesitating. Her voice was shaking almost as badly as she was. The middle-aged woman accompanying her clutched her arm tightly as though to silence her; Maul noticed the furtive glance in the direction of the beheaded corpses on the floor and the way her suctioned digits dug into the fabric of the girl’s sleeve. It appeared as though Navik was not only cowardly, but exceedingly cruel. He obviously failed to inform the Nerenos of the boy’s fate. Well, Maul was never the type to have good bedside manners. He merely replied curtly: «The kid is in there,» and nodded in the direction of the open airlock before walking away, back towards the cockpit. Those two would figure things out soon enough.

Back in the control room, the Zabrak deactivated the power flow from the assault boat to the T-6 and did a complete memory wipe of the travel logs. There was probably a way for the RHF to recover some of the files, but there wasn’t much he could do about that, other than blow up the ship. Still, from what he had seen of Ahsoka Tano’s shuttle, it had no weapons, and probably no concussion shielding. Setting the assault boat to self-destruct required more in-depth knowledge of the controls than he had, and in either case, he wanted to avoid getting caught in the blast radius. Erasing all data about the recent activity of the ship would have to do. With that done, and time just about up, Maul left the cockpit. Noticing Lady Tano’s impervium mask still on the control panel beside the pilot’s seat, he took it with him and returned to stand beside the boarding tunnel. From the other end of it, he could hear the sounds of soft sobbing, as though someone (probably the girl) were trying to stifle their weeping. The women had found Cebb Nereno’s body, he was sure.

He didn’t give them much thought, as just then, heavy footsteps were heard on the drop-down ladder. Maul observed the hulking Rodian quietly as he descended, noticed the bounty hunter freeze in terror upon seeing him standing there still. The Dathomirian raised an eye-ridge in amusement, then nodded his allowance of the Rodian to continue on down. This one was obviously a member of the Goa Ato, for he was heavily armored and fully armed, a variety of demolition and tactical gear strapped to his belts and a blaster slung over his back. Once he was aboard the assault boat, the Rodian immediately walked over to Maul and knelt, keeping his head bowed.

«As soon as you see the airlock close behind me,» the Zabrak instructed, «head over to the cockpit and disengage the boarding clamps and tunnel. Do not attempt to fire upon my vessel, regardless of the orders you received. Were you ever told the story of how a Sith Lord once ripped a starship in two with the Force?»

Shuddering, the bounty hunter shook his head, still not looking up.

«Do not test its veracity. I can guarantee that regardless of what you try, you will taste death long before I do.»

Without waiting for the Rodian to get back to his feet, Maul turned away and walked purposefully down the boarding ramp and into the T-6, shutting the hatch behind him and locking it in place. He headed for the cockpit.

Unsurprisingly, on the way, he found the two Nereno women huddled on the floor beside the bundled corpse of their kin. The young girl had thrown herself quite dramatically over the body and was burying her face in the folds of the stiff leather, her shoulders shaking. The older one sat beside them silently, running her spindly fingers through the girl’s quills, gently soothing her. Her face was a mask, as emotionless as Ahsoka Tano’s Fulcrum face cover, and she stared off into space, lost in thought. Maul figured she was in shock. As he walked past them, she turned bulbous eyes the color of thinekk tree saplings onto him. Her gaze was blank as her face, devoid of accusation or question. This was the look of a woman used to great suffering. Maul ignored the pair and entered the flight cabin.

He hadn’t even sat down yet when the entire shuttle shuddered: as instructed, the Rodian in the assault boat had released the magnetic clamps from around the body of the small conveyance ship and was retracting the boarding tube. He immediately placed the impervium face cover on the copilot’s seat beside him. No sooner was the T-6 free, than the Zabrak slid smoothly into the captain’s chair and took the controls, igniting the three engines. He kept the vessel on standby until the larger craft moved to join the other two. Maul watched intently as the three RHF ships – he recognized the last arrival as being of the same type as the assault boat, and the other that had been hovering nearby was an LPS – moved into a tight linear formation and circled around past his viewing window and back the way they had come. Once he lost visual, he kept a keen eye on the shuttle’s proximity scanners and radar. When they got far enough to target the T-6, Maul gunned the engines and wove in among the floating debris, quickly increasing both distance and obstacles between the small ship and the vessels. The Rodians never tried to attack. Frankly, the Dark Side user had been expecting some type of underhandedness from Navik’s people and was a bit surprised that this had not been the case. His suspicions drifted to the two Nerenos behind him and he frowned. He would cross-examine them, of course, but not yet. He still needed to get clear of the Tyrius Scrapyard first.

When the debris began to thin out, Maul slowed to a stop and stood, walking over to the women. They were still in the exact positions as they had been when he’d seen them earlier, except the girl’s shoulders were no longer quivering.

«Where did you place the things which you were carrying?» he demanded brusquely, glaring down at them.

At the sound of his voice, the young girl flinched, and she looked up, cringing away from him with a gasp. The old woman merely blinked slowly, not looking up at all, and pointed listlessly towards an empty area of the ship, close to the normal boarding ramp. She didn’t even appear surprised that he was speaking to them in flawless Rodese. Well, he supposed she had already heard him use their native tongue, or perhaps she was in too deep a shock to register how extraordinary it was for a non-Rodian to use their language so well, with no trace of an accent. Due to the structure of their snouts compared to the mouths of most sentients, the language of the warrior reptilians was difficult to duplicate for others.

Maul glanced in the direction the female pointed, ascertaining that there were, in fact, four rucksacks piled up against a corner there, out of the way. «Empty them of their contents and spread everything out on the floor,» he commanded. «Do it quickly, or I’ll eject the entire lot into space.»

The older Rodian made to move, but the girl was already scrambling to her feet, scuttling over to do as instructed. She was trembling from quill to foot, still sobbing silently, but she did not hesitate, and her movements were determined as she diligently did what she was told. By the time her elder clansperson reached her, the young woman had dumped all of it out. Working together, the two Nerenos didn’t take long in neatly placing everything in orderly rows.

Mainly they carried what Maul assumed were their basic necessities, or at least everything they deemed of value. It wasn’t much, and the Zabrak was keenly aware of their embarrassment and discomfort at having to put their meager belongings on display. Not caring in the slightest for their feelings, the Dathomirian walked between the items, lifting each one with the Force, examining them, then letting them drop back to the floor haphazardly. There were a few articles of clothing, faded and worn, soft and aged. Among these were a few sets of male attire, which he was sure fit Cebb Nereno. The poor wenches had likely thought they were to meet up with him and thought of providing for the boy as well. He supposed he could still allow them to dress the corpse once they reached Tatooine, although he saw little point or sense in the practice of cleaning and adorning the dead.

The Tusken did this – most sentient cultures did, actually, including his natal one – and it always befuddled the Zabrak. Dolling up a cadaver would never change the fact that the person was dead. He thought of his kin, lying on the ground with two smoking holes in their chests, left to wither into dust where they fell. They had both deserved a better death, certainly a better life than what they got, but the Force was a cruel enigma, punishing and malevolent, often for no reason. Would he have felt a sense of closure or taken comfort if he had been allowed to lay them to rest properly?

He turned a pair of shoes upside down to check that nothing was hidden inside, then let them fall. Hm… he wondered. Strange, that he had never given Savage and Talzin’s lack of a funeral much thought before. He wasn’t even sure what had happened to his brother’s corpse, as Sidious had dragged him, screaming in agony, to the Spire immediately after, leaving the dead behind. Events thereafter had occurred much too quickly for Maul to have fully felt the weight of loss, and with Talzin sacrificing herself soon after, the ache had just blurred together, which the Nightbrother had quickly transformed into searing rage.

He had been so mentally exhausted and wounded by the time the Siege of Mandalore came about, that when he had asked Ahsoka Tano to let him plummet to his death, he had meant it with all his hearts. He would not have tried to stop his fall, so eager had he been for the final embrace of Pain, leading him to the darkness of oblivion… yet the stupid brat had denied him even that. She thought she was saving him with her mercy. What a fool. And now look at where they had both ended up.

Battered.

Tired.

Alone.

Battered by a lifetime of fighting: their bodies spent, cut, broken, and mended over a thousand times. Tired: weary, jaded, their minds and spirits far more expended than even their physical forms. And alone, yes, so very alone, even when surrounded by the masses, for no one understood their struggles, their experiences. No one would ever understand him, Maul realized, the way Ahsoka Tano could. And she drove him insane because although she was capable of sympathizing with his pain and strife, she always refused him.

Absently, he levitated another object to his face, only to be brought to the present task at hand by the sound of the Nerenos gasping apprehensively. He focused on the item before him with a frown. It was a bundle of fabric, and as Maul unfurled the material, allowing it to flutter to the floor, he saw that inside was a crystalline pitcher, multifaceted and sparkling. His immediate impression was that it was intended to imitate the Rodian eye in its design. It was beautiful craftsmanship, but Maul had no use for beauty. To the Nerenos, however, it was obviously valuable. Perhaps the only thing of value they possessed. As he turned it over in the air, flipping it upside down as he had with the shoes, the older Rodian moved forward until she was standing right before him, her hands outstretched carefully beneath the amphora. When she spoke, her voice trembled, but her posture did not.

«Please...» she said hoarsely, «do not drop this.»

Oh. Well, yes, he had been allowing everything else to clatter to the ground when he was done. If he did so with this thing, it was sure to shatter.

«Nabba…!» began the girl, clutching her hands before her and twisting them anxiously.

Maul turned and stared at the old one. Now that he heard the girl utter it, he realized that he hadn’t even bothered to ask for their names. He had felt no need to, as he already knew who they were. This older Rodian was Nabba, the matriarch of the Nerenos and mother of the boy he’d slain. The young girl was R’ekzi, who married into the clan and was now considered another offspring of the old woman, as per the Rodian tradition. The kid had mentioned them both in his tirade to Lady Tano. A tribe composed of two widows without male offspring. It was no wonder Navik thought them useless. The Zabrak spun the receptacle slowly once more, watching it catch the light of the fluorescents before lowering it gently into the aged hands of the older woman. Sure, he was cruel, but seldomly without reason. And perhaps more than most, he understood the importance of heirlooms. In the end, relics were all he had left to show of his own life, after all. Wordlessly, he returned to his meticulous inspections.

After he was done with the entire lot (it didn’t take long, as they had very few possessions – even their wardrobes were scant) the Zabrak at last turned to the pair and glowered at them. He was unsure if he should demand that they strip naked so he could inspect their trappings, but he supposed they had undergone enough humiliation. So instead, he asked gruffly: «Were you asked or forced to hold anything on your person? Show me all you are carrying, including whatever you have hidden from Navik’s men. You will not be able to keep secrets from me.»

After glancing at one another briefly, R’ekzi stepped up beside her mother-in-law, pulling a small pouch out of her shirt. The middle-aged Rodian did likewise after setting the vase down carefully on the floor. The Dathomirian was not surprised in the least. Here, then, is what these two truly valued.

The young girl offered Maul her leather reticule first, and as soon as he took it, she hugged herself around her middle and huddled against her kin, turning to hide her face against Nabba’s cheek. The Zabrak opened the drawstring bag and emptied out the contents onto his palm. A crudely sculpted droplet made of azurite hung from a simple braided cord. It wasn’t as impressive as the pitcher, and surely not as valuable either. Whoever had made it was not a very skilled stone carver. Why would anyone hide it so desperately? Azurite wasn’t even all that expensive. Out of slight curiosity, Maul allowed his mental shields to come down temporarily, and gleaned off the young Rodian’s immediate thoughts.

They were both still very young, when Able Nereno declared his love for her. He was R’ekzi’s childhood friend, and the two were always together, even after Navik branded the Nerenos as traitors and it became dangerous to associate with them. Her clan was outwardly loyal to Chattza – as many other tribes had become – out of fear. Fear that they would end up like the Nerenos: defiant yet broken. Or worse: eradicated and banished like the Tetsu. But love made R’ekzi fearless, and she had accepted Able’s proposal immediately, married him despite her family’s disapproval. The Nerenos were poor: Able didn’t have enough funds or the smithing skills to make her a proper torc, so instead he had fashioned a pendant using a shard of pretty blue stone. R’ekzi had found it along the riverbank where they played as children, actually, and had given it to him when she had first asked him to be her best friend. It was the same blue as his eyes. She hadn’t even known he’d kept it for all those years and had been moved to tears when he offered it back to her, carved into a droplet of rain, because her name meant “gentle showers”. How could she refuse him? He was perfect, the only one for her.

Maul raised an eye-ridge. Ugh, females and their sentiments. He instantly closed himself off again, not caring to catch a glimpse of whatever the mother must be reminiscing over. He returned the pendant to the girl but kept the pouch. «Wear it, if it means that much to you,» he growled. She looked at him, confused and nervous, but she eagerly took back the necklace. «Never hide what is important to you,» he clarified. «In either case, I have no use for trinkets.»

Next, he took the pouch from the older one and looked inside. Here was something interesting… With a frown, he took out the round black gadget. A tracer? This was precisely what he had been dreading. Ah, no matter. The important thing was that he’d found it on time and could destroy it. However, rather than crush it right there and then, he decided it would be more beneficial if he simply ejected the thing out into space and let the RHF think he’d stalled there for a while. By the time they realized the truth, he’d be back in Tatoo for sure.

However, when he made his way over to the main entrance, where he had seen a small trash compactor-ejector compartment built into the wall, Nabba followed him, and when he opened the small hatch to drop in the electronic device, she gasped and grabbed at his hand, closing his fingers around the object so he would not let it fall. Maul glared at her. She was daring; he had to acknowledge that much.

«No, please!» she cried, refusing to let go of his hand, even as he jerked away from her. «My sons!»

The Zabrak’s immediate anger became tainted by confusion. Was she perhaps doing Navik’s bidding for the sake of her offspring, the same way Cebb Nereno thought he was helping his family by attacking Ahsoka Tano? Fools, the entire lot of them! Perhaps he would eject the old woman into space as well. He did not have the patience to reeducate her. Although, he knew the hysterics that would follow if he did so. Also, hadn’t he been trying to save the damned clan‽ It was all too complicated, and perhaps he was not meant for such deeds.

He still hadn’t decided what to do – was too much in a state of shock at how the middle-aged Rodian had the audacity to touch him, let alone hold him back – when he realized that the older woman was prying his fingers open now, gently guiding his movements, so the contraption lay flat on his palm. She pressed her thumb into its center, and the gizmo immediately lit up with a dim glow shortly before an image appeared above it. Oh, a portable holoprojector.

It was a simple device, so the holo it projected was static, but in full color. It portrayed two Rodians – boys, by the looks of it, early adolescence – standing together, the older, taller one casually embracing the other. Despite the difference in age from the picture compared to the present, Maul immediately recognized Cebb Nereno. He must have been prepubescent in that image, but his light green scales and large blue eyes were the same. The boy was looking up at the taller one, who appeared to be at least five years older, but not yet an adult himself. This, then, must be Able, the older brother. His skin was a deeper, bluer tinge than his brother – like his Nabba – but their eyes were the same deep azure color. The two boys were not looking at the holo-recorder that captured their image at all. Instead, they were grinning at each other, clearly enjoying one another’s company. Cebb was reaching up to hold his brother’s hand. It was obvious by that image alone that he adored and admired his older sibling.

Maul felt a bit foolish for not having recognized the device for what it was; perhaps he needed to ease off the paranoia. He allowed the older Rodian to take it back, and she stared at the projection lovingly. She turned her green eyes from them to the Zabrak.

«My name is Neyomi Nereno. My daughter is R’ekzi, and these are my sons, Able and Cebb,» she said, her voice steady in spite of her grief. She waited patiently for his response.

«I am acquainted with your clan, and your youngest son,» Maul responded, nodding slightly. «I am the one who ended his life.»

Instinctively, the Rodian withdrew from the Nightbrother, and she deactivated the small projector, bringing it close against her breast. From where she stood, R’ekzi gasped and brought her hands up to her face. Maul was sure the two had already suspected as much but hearing him coldly declare himself the murderer of Cebb Nereno obviously hurt. For a second, the older female’s eyes flashed in anger, and a small waft of acrid pheromones reached Maul’s nose. Ah, the bitter scent of rage. This is where the boy got his spirit from.

Despite her aged and worn appearance, Neyomi Nereno had a fire to her still, and an inner strength the likes of which were very rare indeed. It was no wonder she led her clan, small as they were. Navik had made a grave mistake, eradicating the men instead. In that moment, the Zabrak realized the real threat to the dictator came from the small, middle-aged Rodian before him. He wasn’t sure how she would do it, but he knew this Nabba would bring about the downfall of Chattza. Excellent. Finally, she spoke, and when she did, she bit out the words with difficulty, yet not once did she waver.

«Navik murdered my son,» she stated. «He poisoned Cebb slowly over the years. You did not end his life. You only ended his suffering.»

With that, she turned on her heel and quickly returned to R’ekzi, who had gone back to weeping silently to herself. Not waiting for his instruction, Neyomi began to hurriedly gather up their things and put them back inside their haversacks. Numbly, the girl followed her lead. Maul watched them silently for a while, unsure of what to do. Neyomi’s response had actually rendered him speechless. The quickness with which she had accepted her son’s fate while reaching the conclusion of what led to his demise shocked him.

By contrast, it had taken him decades to realize that Kenobi wasn’t so much to blame for their fateful clash, but rather Darth Sidious, who had toyed with all of them, setting them on their miserable paths. Even after he had recognized as much, he had been unable to move beyond his personal hatred for the Jedi Master, enough to where he sought him out in the ends of the galaxy for one final showdown. He would have gone through with the entire thing, too, consequences be damned, if it hadn’t been for that cursed vision he got as he ignited his saberstaff just before initiating the fight. Neyomi Nereno was a much wiser person than he, for sure. She controlled her anger, rather than allow it to blind her. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be the death of Navik the Red.

In the end, he shook himself out of his musings and headed back to the cockpit. As he passed by the two Rodians, he called to them over his shoulder, «When you are finished with that, you will join me and secure yourselves in. We are almost clear of Tyrius and will enter hyperspace shortly.»

It didn’t take them too long to finish picking up their things, and the two Nerenos obediently entered the cockpit soon after and sat down quietly in the pair of passenger seats behind the captain’s chair and copilot’s. He heard them snap on their safety belts just as the last chunks of floating debris ended up out of range of the shuttle’s sensors. Without a word, Maul punched in the coordinates for Tatoo and activated the hyperdrive. Distant stars became streaks of light as they at last left Tyrius and the oppressive rule of Navik behind.

After a few tense seconds of silence, the Dathomirian unbuckled himself and turned in his seat, observing the two females. They needed to clear things up between them if they were to be of any use, but neither of the women appeared keen on initiating conversation. In fact, both were looking down somberly at their laps. It would be up to him, then. «Is there anything you wish to know?» he demanded brusquely. Again, bedside manner was not his forte.

To his surprise, it was the girl, R’ekzi, who spoke first. «Why?» she asked, turning her violet orbs onto him. He raised an eye-ridge skeptically. «Why did you kill Cebb? He… he was a good kid.» Her voice broke down at the end, and she pressed her snout shut tightly to keep herself from starting to sob once again.

«He was a good kid who did a very stupid thing,» Maul replied, eyes narrowing dangerously. His gaze moved past the Rodian females and came to rest upon the still form of the Togruta lying in the med-bay. R’ekzi followed his stare, then looked back at him inquiringly. «He tried to kill her,» the Zabrak clarified, frowning darkly. «He almost did.»

«No!» the young Rodian exclaimed, shaking her head. «Cebb would never! He was the gentlest soul I’ve ever met! He wouldn’t hurt anyone!»

«You think I am lying.»

«Yes!»

«Then ask yourself this: what purpose would it serve me to lie? I do not care to make a good impression on the two of you. If I wanted you to think well of me, I would have merely lied about his death altogether and told you that the Goa Ato eliminated him. Let me assure you: your dear Cebb was not as sweet and innocent as you believed him to be. He attempted to kill Lady Tano, and the moment he turned his weapon on her is the moment he forfeited his life!»

When the two Rodians cringed away from him, Maul realized his voice had grown in intensity and ferocity with each phrase he uttered, so by the end he was growling at a near-roar. More dangerous still, his Living Force was beginning to push outward, sending reverberations throughout the ship when he spoke. If he didn’t get himself under control, he might damage the ship or hurt the females. The Zabrak’s nostrils flared as he let out a frustrated breath. He couldn’t help reliving those desperate moments when he could hear and sense what was occurring around him but could do nothing to stop it. The sound of Cebb Nereno striking the Togruta made his blood boil. He wanted to kill the boy all over again.

Instead, he got to his feet and left the cockpit, heading over to the med-bay. Once there, he stood beside Ahsoka Tano’s still form – on the opposite side from where Nereno’s body lay, lest he kick the corpse across the ship – and stared down at her. She looked so still and perfect, her breathing barely noticeable. Would she look like this after he killed her? The thought made his stomach clench uncomfortably, and he became slightly nauseous. He gripped the edge of the metal table in order to steady himself.

So lost was he in his dark mood, that he didn’t notice when Neyomi left her seat and came to stand beside him. He only realized she was there at all when she reached out tentatively and placed a hand over the Togruta’s armored chest.

«Who is she?» the Rodian asked quietly.

Maul blinked, once more shocked at the audacity of the short reptilian. He turned to look at her with a mixture of amazement and grudging admiration, with just a tad bit of annoyance. Neyomi didn’t flinch away from him this time and met his disapproving gaze steadily. «She must be special,» the older woman continued, «to be worth the life of my son.»

Maul scoffed. Lady Tano was worth a thousand Cebb Nerenos (although she would be the first one to object to such a statement). Yes, she was special. Unique. More importantly…

«She is my –» Equal, he almost said, but caught himself in time. «My dearest enemy,» he concluded with a sinister grin. «Her life is mine to claim.»

«Why haven’t you already?» Her voice was cold.

«You come from a race of predators,» Maul replied. «I should not have to explain the tenets of the hunt.»

«You are waiting for her to recover so you can offer her a fair fight,» Neyomi stated with a nod. «Did you offer such fairness to my Cebb?»

The Nightbrother growled. He had no need to justify his actions to anyone, let alone a wasted, old, lizard slave woman. «Your Cebb acted without honor himself,» he snarled, baring teeth. «He used a toxin to paralyze Lady Tano before attacking her.»

«No!» cried R’ekzi from the cockpit, rising from her seat. «He wouldn’t do something like that! Cebb would never!»

«He did, and he would have blasted a hole through her chest if I had not killed him where he stood,» Maul retorted. «You asked me who this is,» he gestured towards the bound Togruta. «She is Lady Ahsoka Tano. Her name must mean nothing to you, but perhaps you are better acquainted with her alias. She was, during the time of the Civil War, known throughout the galaxy as Fulcrum. Although she was not the only one to hold the title, she was the first. She essentially formed the spy network that was crucial to the survival of the Rebel Alliance.»

Neyomi’s antennae stood erect in surprise, and she ran a long-fingered hand over her snout nervously. Back in the cockpit, R’ekzi sank back down into the chair, her hands to her face again. «Oh, no…» she moaned. «Cebb… little brother, what did you do‽ What was he thinking‽»

«He wasn’t thinking,» the older female muttered. «That was always his problem. My poor boy…» Her shoulders drooped and she sighed deeply. Maul felt his anger evaporate a bit. She looked so tired and broken.

«Cebb hated the Rebellion almost as much as he hated Navik,» R’ekzi mumbled from her seat. The skin of her face which Maul saw from behind slender fingers was pallid. «He believed they stole his brother, sacrificed Able for nothing.»

«I never could get him to see beyond his pain and resentment,» her mother-in-law agreed, lids lowering in sorrow. «I lost him to Navik long ago. I was not able to reach him again.» Her entire body shuddered as she said this. «Oh, my poor boy...» she whispered once more. «He was so lost…!»

«Perhaps,» Maul said, shrugging, «but he was thinking. His mind was only on the two of you.» With that, he headed back to the cockpit and sat heavily in the captain’s chair. His brain was so spent that he knew he wouldn’t be able to remain alert for long. Save for the scant few minutes when he’d dozed off after Lady Tano tucked blankets around him (remembering made him squirm in place, overly warm all of a sudden), when had been the last time he’d actually slept? Before he ran into the half-Jedi on Tatooine, for sure.

Neyomi followed after him and took the seat directly behind him, across from R’ekzi. She leaned forward, as though expecting him to continue. Maul looked at the pair tiredly out of the corner of his eye. For a while, he let the silence fester between them before finally straightening up in the chair and turning back around to look at the two fully.

«It was your son who initiated the slaughter onboard,» he told the older female. Beside her, the young widow straightened up in her seat, her violet eyes growing wide. Neyomi remained impassive, calmly staring back at him without a word. «He killed the one named Crupp as well as two other members of the Goa Ato. He was trying to stage things so that no one could take the credit for my capture save for him. He wanted to eliminate Lady Tano because she would try and stop him, then he planned to hand me over to your government in order to get closer to Navik, who he would then kill at the first opportunity,» Maul continued. «For you. He was trying to free you both. He was a good son.»

Upon hearing this, Neyomi finally showed a flitter of emotion upon her tired face. Her eyes gleamed, and she blinked before casting her eyes down at her lap, unable to meet his fiery stare. «I had two good sons,» she finally said, her voice trembling slightly – the only indication of the emotional turmoil going on inside her. «One lived in a dream.» With this, she glanced at the young girl sitting across from her and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently. «The other walked in a nightmare.» The middle-aged reptilian finally turned her large green eyes back to Maul’s and held his gaze, unflinching. «Both broke their mother’s heart.»

At her words, it was he who almost looked away from the pair. Something about the way the matriarch spoke, the frailty and fierce determination that were somehow both evident in her voice moved him, reminded him of the powerful warrior witch who had been capable of ruling the galaxy… and yet had crumpled so easily for his sake. Strong, yet vulnerable. Proud and dignified. So very mortal.

«Yes,» he mused, forcing himself to meet her eyes. «Sons… we tend to do that.»

After that conversation, the tension between them eased off a bit. Maul allowed the Nerenos to cleanse and prepare their fallen kin’s body for burial. Back on Rodia, it was the tradition to put weights upon the corpses and sink them into the bogs. He explained to the two females that where they were headed, there were no bodies of water to lay the boy to rest: the sands would have to do, unless they wished for a funeral pyre. Both women immediately refused, aghast that a body would be burned. It severed the cycle of life, Neyomi explained, for if her son’s body was not allowed to decompose and become food for other creatures and microbes, he would be forever trapped in his death state, unable to move on to the afterlife. This was her main concern with the death of her eldest son. She, R’ekzi, and Cebb had offered up many prayers, she said, in hopes that Able’s remains were put to rest properly by the Rebel Alliance, as they understood that incineration was the common way of dealing with the dead in space. When the Alderaanian princess had reached Rodia to inform them of his passing, she had not brought an urn with her, so Neyomi held to hope that Able’s body had been allowed to decay somewhere.

While they washed and dressed Cebb Nereno’s corpse – Maul told them to use whatever supplies were available on the shuttle’s med-bay or storage rooms – the Dathomirian headed for the refresher. He needed to wash off all that green blood. The stale, fungal stench of Rodian death was something he had already grown used to, but the dried gore on his skin was slightly sticky and uncomfortable.

He was pleasantly surprised to see that Ahsoka Tano had modified her washing stall to include running water. In conveyance shuttles such as the T-6, sonics were usually the only option. The detergent that emerged along with the jets of water had a slight floral scent, which explained why the Togruta smelled like blossoms opening up along a coastline somewhere. Recalling her aroma made his hearts race, and he hastened to finish his shower, for his skin was beginning to feel overly warm despite the fact he had set the water settings to cold. As soon as he got rid of Lady Tano, he would need to change out whatever soap she was using in this thing.

Once he was completely dry – it took a while for his prosthetics to stop dripping – the Zabrak returned to the cockpit and began inspecting his new legs. He was satisfied to see that during his absence, the Nerenos had wiped down the captain’s chair, so there was no trace of old blood on the back of the seat, and he was able to recline comfortably and put a leg up in order to see the workings better. These new cybernetic limbs were much more advanced than his previous set, feeling both lighter, yet stronger. There was nothing rusted or corroded about them, and when he flexed his joints, they moved in smooth silence. He still felt something strange occurring to his insides where flesh met metal, but overall, this was a definite improvement. He was able to easily find the embedded buttons along his waistline that opened compartments and revealed intricate wiring. He was completely engrossed in taking himself apart, to where he nearly forgot about the two Rodian females. He happened to glance around at one point and saw the pair staring at him from their seats, snouts agape. When in chaos had they even reentered the cockpit?

Neyomi hastily informed him that they were done preparing her son’s body and made a point not to mention his cybernetics. They likely thought he would be uncomfortable speaking about it (he wasn’t), and Maul also caught a flickering thought from them – even through his mental shields – that they had thought he had been wearing some type of armor over his lower half, and seeing that he was, in fact, a cyborg, terrified them further than what they had already been. He realized he hadn’t told the women anything at all about himself, not even his name. What should he have them call him? “Maul” sounded strange in Rodese, since the “L” sound was not commonly heard, unless in combination with another consonant, such as the case with Able Nereno’s name. He assumed Navik had informed the two that they were now his property, but the thought of them calling him “Master” was unsettling for him. That word had long since lost its appeal. He decided to ask them directly.

«Are either of you aware of who I am, or why you are here?»

The question seemed to catch them off-guard, for the two Rodians looked at each other before turning back to him.

«We were told that our clan now belonged to the Shadow,» Neyomi replied. «We were not told why.»

«We have heard of the Shadow, of course,» R’ekzi added nervously. «Every clan who has ever lost a Supreme Hunter off-world during a mission for the Inquisitors were told their kin was taken by the Shadow, but I always thought it was a figure of speech. We… did not know you were a real person.» The young girl sounded awed and frightened.

Maul couldn’t help but grin a little. To learn that he had become some type of cryptid in Rodian culture was nothing short of amusing.

«Well, as you can see, I am no myth,» he said wryly. «That does not mean that the claims about me have been exaggerated. Navik the Red knows this well. There is little chance he would have allowed any other foreigner to lay claim to a clan of Rodia.»

«Are we in your thrall, then?» Neyomi asked pointedly.

«You are,» Maul declared, arcing an eye-ridge. «Although you will find me unlike any slaver you may have heard of.» He got to his feet, towering over their small frames. «There will be time enough to discuss such things further once we reach our destination. For now, you should rest wherever you can make yourselves comfortable. Perhaps make use of the refresher now that you can. I need to look over Lady Tano and see what a medical scan can tell me about her condition.»

«Would you like us to help?» R’ekzi inquired, surprising him. When he turned his attention to her, the girl’s snout twitched uncomfortably, and her antennae quivered a tiny bit. However, she kept her gaze steady, as Neyomi had done. She was learning fast. «It’s only that… well, both Able and Cebb worked in the medical field. Cebb actually had been working at Emergency Services for a few years now and was very knowledgeable. He assisted the medical droids. He probably used a sedative commonly used on Rodians to incapacitate your Fulcrum. This ship’s matrix might not have information on such things. Navik has kept Rodia off the galactic grid when it comes to pretty much everything. Nabba and I may not know too much, but we might prove more useful than the A.I.»

Maul frowned thoughtfully, then assented silently with a curt nod before heading to the med-bay, the two Rodians in tow. He rather liked the way R’ekzi had referred to Lady Tano as his. She would be – and he hoped it was soon – once he took her life. There was nothing that could bind two people together more than death. The most personal relationship was that between a killer and his victim. Only that Ahsoka Tano was no victim: she was a survivor, like him. Fighting her to the death would be the ultimate conquest… for whoever emerged the victor. He knew she was very capable of killing him; she had proven as much by blasting that hole in his chest and knowing this only made him anticipate the showdown even more.

The three of them stood around the table where the Togruta lay, with Maul directly beside her head on her left-hand side. He activated the medical bay’s artificial intelligence and waited impatiently for the green light to finish sweeping over the half-Jedi’s still form. Once the initial diagnostics completed, the medical hologram emerged: the image of a 2-1B surgical droid, but an older model.

“Status,” the Zabrak growled to it in Basic, for he was sure the damn thing would not understand Rodese.

“The patient has been identified as Captain Ahsoka Tano, Togruta, age: 47 standard years,” the A.I. began. “Brain activity is reduced, denoting a state of unconsciousness. No major lesions or abrasions are detected. There is a small injection site on her rear lek, near the base of the skull. There are signs of ecchymosis and swelling along the left arm near the shoulder, likely caused by blunt force trauma. Restraining straps have been applied to the patient, but are not necessary, nor are they recommended, as they are currently tightened too much and are restricting proper blood flow. The reason for her current soporose state is unknown. A blood sample would need to be taken in order to detect any sedative. Other than this, her condition is stable. All organs and tissues appear to be working normally. Without further information, recommended action is to allow her body to recuperate on its own, although a bacta ointment or infused patch may be applied to the left arm to hasten the healing process.”

“Understood,” Maul replied. “Deactivate.”

As soon as the hologram dissipated, he turned to the two females beside him. «Did you both understand, or do I need to translate?»

«Most Rodians are fluent in Galactic Basic Standard,» Neyomi said dignifiedly, raising up her chin, «although not all of us like to speak it. It is a tactless language. Basic is correct!»

«I do not care what your speaking preferences are,» the Dathomirian snapped, «so long as I do not have to repeat information. Keep in mind, though, that where we are going, very few speak your native tongue, so you may as well get accustomed to using Basic.»

“We understand, Lord Kuvik,” R’ekzi cut in at once, trying to appease him. Well, he did like the way she addressed him, so if she was trying to placate him, it worked. He also noticed the girl had hardly any trace of accent when she spoke in the common tongue. There was no lisp to be heard, in either case. In the back of his mind, he recalled Cebb Nereno mentioning that the young widow had wanted to work in Equator City to help out her clan financially. It made sense that she would have perfected her speech to make herself more presentable and pleasant to foreigners. She was a smart one, for sure.

The young Rodian approached the Togruta, coming close up beside Maul. The slightly briny, sulphureous smell of her fear pheromones had dispersed long ago, leaving behind only her natural musk, which was a tad earthy and sweet. Not too bad for a Rodian. Still, he preferred Lady Tano’s fragrance. Kark, why was he thinking of such things‽ Gently, R’ekzi reached out and lifted one of the Togruta’s eyelids, allowing the fluorescents in the ceiling to shine directly into her eye. “Her eyes are not dilated,” she observed quietly, “but they also do not contract with the light. Do you see?” She turned to the Zabrak to make sure he looked as well. “If Cebb had used a normal anesthetic, her eyes would be dilated wide, big.” She made motions with her other hand over her own eye, as though making it wider. “My husband taught me about the effects of common tranquilizers on most sentient species.”

«Newoongall,» Neyomi murmured, rubbing at her snout. «He must have used newoongall toxin.» She shook her head disapprovingly and shuddered.

«What is that?» the Nightbrother asked. «I do remember Nereno mentioning a toxin. Something about a bioweapons program Navik was working on.»

“Newoongall are giant beasts, invertebrates,” R’ekzi explained. “They are only found in the swamp caverns of Rodia. They produce a type of venom that paralyzes their prey. It is not a sedative; the person under its effects can still feel everything.”

“Ah,” Maul nodded. Definitely the stuff used on him, then. “How long do its effects last?”

“Two standard days for an adult male Rodian,” R’ekzi said immediately. “But I do not know anything about her species. It may take longer before she can move, or less time. It is impossible to tell. Although there is still the possibility that Cebb used something else on her.”

«No, there is no doubt that this person was paralyzed by newoongall venom, if her eyes do not respond to the changing light source,» the middle-aged Rodian mused. «That toxin paralyzes completely. Not only can the individual not move their muscles, but their organs usually do not respond to outside stimuli either. The Goa Ato subjected my poor child to it, then tortured him, just to see if his brain still registered pain in that state.» Her long, slender hands balled into tight fists at her sides.

Maul grunted and looked away, uncomfortably aware of how similar it was turning out that Cebb Nereno had been to him. Noticing his reaction, R’ekzi placed a hand lightly on his forearm. “We heard the soldiers who brought us here mention that you were being held captive by the Goa Ato before you killed everyone onboard. Did they do this to you as well?” she asked gently.

The Zabrak immediately jerked his arm away and bared his teeth slightly with a quiet growl. How he detested pity! Instantly, the young widow’s antennae flattened against her head, and she recoiled. A short burst of acrid odor wafted around the med-bay as she stammered, «I… I am sorry, Lord Kuvik. I did not m-mean to offend you.» She looked damn near ready to start weeping again, having even fallen back on using Rodese. Neyomi stepped up beside her daughter instantly and wrapped a frail arm protectively around the girl, her quills bristling slightly. Oh-ho, this one was getting brazen! He briefly considered shoving the older female back with the Force in order to remind her of her place, but something about the way she glared up at him reminded him of how Talzin squared off against two Sith Lords and a cyborg in order to protect her child, so he decided to let the two Rodians be. He walked past them, heading back toward the cockpit, and called over his shoulder: «Tend to Lady Tano’s arm. I am sure you have already made yourselves familiar with the supply cabinets, so you should have no problem finding bacta ointment. Once you are done, strip her of her weapons belt and bind her back down as tightly as I did.»

“Oh! But…” R’ekzi started, still frightened, but also anxious, “Lord Kuvik… the medical computer said she was being restrained much too tightly, a-and that… this is restricting… blood flow…” The girl’s voice tapered down to a near-whisper under his fierce glare.

Maul stood in the entranceway to the cockpit, glowering at the pair of Rodians. His mood had fouled quickly with that single gossamer touch. R’ekzi Nereno was young, stupid, and naïve; he was likely to outlive her, especially if she continued in that vein of debilitating compassion. The feel of her hand on his arm had reminded him of the Togruta gently squeezing his shoulder, the soft pressure she applied when carefully cleaning his face, her arms wrapping protectively around his shoulders before he hit the ground… Useless, the two of them!

“Ahsoka Tano is a Force-wielder, as I am,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will take no chance of her getting free of her tethers. Do as I command. When you are done, do not disturb me.”

Not waiting for a reply, the Zabrak entered the cockpit and resettled into the captain’s chair. It was not too uncomfortable a seat, but he did not like that it couldn’t swivel around to give him a full view of the goings-on behind him. One more thing he would be changing once he got the chance. He considered entering a meditative state, but his temperament was too irritated, his thoughts much too dark for him to focus. His mind was also much too tired. He checked the navigational computer one final time to make sure they remained on course with no problems, then reclined the back of the chair as far as it would go and closed his eyes.

He could hear the quiet murmurings of Neyomi comforting her daughter as they went about their business. Soon, that became background noise along with the hum of the hyperdrive and the dulled rumblings of the shuttle as the aged vessel sped along. Hm… it sounds as though the hull has been damaged some. That was his last fleeting thought as sleep took him.

Two dark, robed figures stood before the Nightbrother, both towering above him in spite of the enhanced stature offered to him by his prosthetics. In the gloom of the Dark Side, he could not make out their faces beneath their hoods, but he knew them well, as he had dreamt of them before. Yes, he was dreaming now. Maul had been trained well since infancy to distinguish between this and the waking world.

One of the individuals nodded slightly to him as he approached them. The other remained arrogant and proud, looking down on him with ferocious golden-orange eyes. Eyes of the Sith.

“What do you want now?” the Zabrak demanded of his kaiburr, glaring up at them.

“You plan to stop in Tatooine,” the taller of the two said in a raspy, slightly nasal, masculine voice, his elongated skull bobbing as he spoke. “Don’t.”

Maul frowned. “Do not presume to order me around, bastard,” he growled, baring his canines.

“I am merely advising, which is my duty as your humble servant,” he replied. For a karking rock, he was very good at sarcasm. “You should not return to the desert planet, my Master.”

“Why?”

“You have been found,” the other spoke up for the first time. Its voice was also male, but at a metallic tenor, was much higher pitched for an individual of his size. This one spoke very little, but when he did, he always got to the point. Maul liked that about him, despite his belligerent attitude half the time. The Dathomirian smirked. The kaiburr didn’t have to clarify who had discovered him. He had a good guess, and in either case, it made very little difference if he was wrong. A fight was a fight.

“We have been secluded on Tatooine for over a decade,” Maul stated. “If someone has arrived seeking me only now, I am certain you two had something to do with it.”

“The Jedi’s touch was foul,” the first explained.

“Unworthy,” the second added, his disgust apparent.

“Your whereabouts and status were unknown to us, so we had to seek another.”

“And that other is on Tatooine now? Looking to unite with you?” Maul sneered. “It does not matter. We are going back either way. There were other things, besides the two of you, hidden deep within the desert sands that I must now recover. In any case, I do not run. And when the time comes for a confrontation, you will help me defeat the interloper, understand?”

“My master broke his chains,” the second kaiburr hissed, his orange eyes glowing ominously. “I am now free to serve whomever I wish. And I only follow the hand of the strongest Sith Lord.”

The Zabrak reached out, black links of mist that glowed a sickly green forming around his forearm and snaking out to encircle both individuals’ necks. Maul grabbed these tethers in his fist and yanked down hard, his eyes now glowing in the same eerie verdant color. The two kaiburr groaned and writhed, collapsing to the floor, choking.

“Are you referring to these chains?” he demanded with a growl as emerald vapor wisped around his aura.

“M-magick…!” sputtered the first kaiburr weakly.

“You will aid me, or I will render you into nothing but dust,” the Nightbrother snarled, extending his power over the chains, tightening them. “And if I destroy you, so too does the essence of your original masters dissolve forever. The succession of Sith will be broken due to your failure to obey. How… disappointing.”

“You are… the strongest…” the second kaiburr moaned in agony. “I will… follow you… Lord Maul…”

The Zabrak grinned harshly, pulling on the lyams, and dragging both figures forward until they were completely prone on the ground. “Then say it.”

“Master!” cried the first kaiburr, trembling.

“… Master…” the second echoed with difficulty.

Maul stared down at the two impassively. “Never forget,” he spat before releasing them.

He woke up with a scowl on his face. Ugh, those two were such a pain in the ass.

He glanced over at the navicomputer and saw that there were only a few more minutes to go before they were to exit hyperspace. Stretching, he sat up and looked around the cockpit. Neyomi and R’ekzi were not there. Rather, he could see them beyond, on the floor of the med-bay, sleeping while curled up against Cebb Nereno’s wrapped body. They looked almost too peaceful to disturb, but Maul was not considerate by nature. He walked over to them and nudged them with a foot.

«We are about to reenter realspace,» he told them. «Get back to your seats and secure yourselves.»

No sooner had he said this, than the T-6 began chiming its own warning that they were nearing the end of their route. The two Rodians scrambled to their feet and hurriedly returned to the cockpit, the Zabrak following after them leisurely. He took the controls in time to see the stars fall back into place outside the viewing window, clumps of debris just a few hundred meters before them.

“Are we back in Tyrius‽” R’ekzi yelped. “Why have we returned here?”

“Pay attention, kid,” Maul grumbled in return. “Your solar system is not the only one that ejects waste at its outskirts. This is the Tatoo system. You can see the dual suns from here.” He pointed out the window, slightly to the right. Behind him, the women gasped.

«Two suns!» Neyomi murmured, aghast. «How can such a system be habitable?»

The Zabrak grunted. “It barely is,” he muttered. He gunned the engines, and the entire shuttle shuddered a bit as it lunged forward.

Maul was able to maneuver around the floating debris field without difficulty. In less than an hour, they were clear, and he had added new coordinates and started up the hyperdrive once more. The jump was a short one; they were sure to reach Tatooine soon.

Once they arrived at their destination, the Zabrak circled the shuttle around, heading for the first quadrant of the planet. He flew them deep into the Jundland Wastes, where unfortunately the late afternoon suns were bearing down with all their power. Nights were short on Tatooine, but the days seemed interminable. Twenty-six hours of sunlight during the dry season – Dry season, hah, the Dathomirian thought to himself wryly. It is always dry.  – and only two less when the axis of the planet tilted the quadrant away from the reach of the largest of Tatoo’s suns. He landed the shuttle with the wings parallel to the ground, far from any discernible settlement. He got up from his seat and stepped up to the Nerenos, unholstering Ahsoka Tano’s blaster as he did so. Their eyes grew wide, and Neyomi immediately stood to stand between him and her daughter.

Torn between annoyance and amusement, the Zabrak raised an eye-ridge before handing the middle-aged Rodian the weapon. She blinked in surprise.

“I have urgent matters to attend to,” he informed the matriarch. “I do not know how long I will be gone. Until then, look after the ship.”

«I understand,» she said quietly, taking the blaster and nodding. At least she had the decency to look abashed.

Maul regarded her skeptically. “Can you even shoot?”

Indignant, Neyomi looked up, holding her small frame up proudly. «Bé’Kuvik, I am a Rodian,» she answered. «Naturally, I can shoot!»

For a moment, the Nightbrother remained silent, unsure of how to react at the petite reptilian addressing him as though he were a child. He was probably older than she was! However, he doubted whether the Nerenos had much experience with Zabraks or any other humanoids. He supposed it was normal for her to assume he was younger than her, but even if that were the case, he was her owner now. She should not be referring to him using a childish epithet. In the back of his mind, he understood that Neyomi was doing so purposefully, to show him that she would not bow or bend before him. She likely preferred death to slavery. He was certain that this had been her exact attitude on Rodia. He could deal with her passive insubordination in two ways: he could use violence and fear to quickly put her back in her place, or he could ignore it, allowing that attitude to develop further, probably causing problems down the line. He almost did the first, for her stubborn irreverence reminded him of his kaiburr, and those two he dominated by displaying his power over them, but in the case of the Rodian, he realized he liked that fighting spirit. The Dark Side thrived on conflict, after all.

Leaning forward, he reached over and ruffled the matriarch’s quills roughly – a gesture elders also reserved for their younger kin. When a lower member of a clan did this to a family leader, it was considered highly disrespectful. He wasn’t one to appreciate physical contact much, but for the chance to chastise and offend Neyomi, he made an exception.

“See to it you do not miss, Nabba,” he jeered before walking past her and over to the maintenance pit area of the shuttle. Her shocked gasp was followed by a low hooting sound as the older Rodian chuckled.

Maul picked up the cycler rifle leaning against the wall and inspected it. His ammunition was gone – likely still lying in the dust of Kenobi’s hut, if scavengers hadn’t plundered it already – but he had more stashed away. Returning to the Nerenos, he handed the heavier weapon to R’ekzi, who had already stood as well.

“This rifle has a strong recoil, and only three rounds left in the chamber, so try not to use it,” he informed the girl. “Certainly not inside the ship. However, if you two get attacked, let off a warning shot with this, as it makes quite a bit of noise. The only ones who may bother you out here are Jawas or the Tusken, and they both recognize the sound and respect the cycler.” He walked towards the entrance of the ship and paused before the main door, his hand hovering over the controls that would open it and lower the boarding ramp. “I will likely be gone for a few hours,” he said. “Nothing had better happen to Lady Tano while I am gone.”

“What do we do if she wakes up?” R’ekzi asked.

“Do not let her speak. She will use a mind-trick on you to make you do her bidding,” he instructed sternly. “Better still: knock her back out. Togruta’s montrals – those horns on her head – are highly sensitive to sound. A sharp blow to one of them should do the trick, or at least discombobulate her some. Although I doubt she will regain consciousness soon.”

He activated the door controls and was greeted by a strong burst of hot, arid, desert air. His skin prickled in response. He certainly hadn’t missed the climate! Sensing the shift in temperature, the Rodians fidgeted where they stood, hands rubbing at their snouts immediately.

«Are you going out there with no protection?» Neyomi asked nervously. Maul glanced down at his own form and realized he was still completely unclothed. He shrugged. He’d been through worse, and his Zabrak skin was rather hardy against the elements. However, he wasn’t looking forward to putting his hide to the test against Tatooine’s twin suns. The clothes he’d been wearing were gone, though, and he didn’t think Ahsoka Tano had anything suitable for him to wear on her ship. Unless…

Pointing to the maintenance pit, he said, “Inside the cleansing tank embedded in the wall is a cloak that might be useful.” He grimaced as he said the words, not keen on donning the pale garment. Well, of course the Togruta had worn white. How very Jedi of her. But, well, he could think of nothing else to use. Those woolen blankets covering Lady Tano were soft but much too warm. If he threw one over himself to traverse the desert, he’d roast himself alive for sure.

R’ekzi handed the rifle to the matriarch and hurried over to where he had gestured. She was at his side moments later, the travelling cloak in one hand while she hauled the gaffi stick along in the other. The weapon was definitely much too heavy for the girl. “You might need this,” she explained bashfully, handing both over.

Maul grunted. He hadn’t even considered taking the gaderffii, seeing as how he had both his and Ahsoka Tano’s lightsabers secured to his utility belt, but he took it anyway. Feeling the familiar heft in his hands was comforting somehow, seemed to center him in the moment. Besides, if he ran into any Tusken, they were unlikely to recognize him without his normal attire, but they would surely know his weapon. It was probably a better idea, also, to avoid drawing one of his crimson blades.

With a curt nod at the two females, the Dathomirian exited the ship and descended quickly down the ramp, tossing on the cowl with a single fluid motion from his arm. He glanced at the suns overhead to orient himself: although he knew the coordinates which he had landed in from the navicomputer, he had grown accustomed to relying more on the natural world to survive the desert ecosystem. Technology could only get one so far. Satisfied, he put the over-sized hood up over his head and turned to his right-hand side, walking westward. He carried his bludgeon across his shoulders and draped his wrists casually over the top of it on either side. This allowed the robe to flap open as he walked, giving him protection from the sun while allowing some ventilation. Never once did he look back.

Judging from the position of the suns, Maul deduced that he had a bit over nine standard hours left of full daylight. If he kept up a brisk clip, he should be able to reach his hide-out well before dark. Time to see how well those new legs could hold up, he supposed. Once he went around a bend in the canyon where he’d docked and lost sight of the shuttle, he set off at a near-trot.

The locals would say that jogging in the sand was suicide, especially with no moisturizer mask or even water, but Maul relished the discomfort his body began to experience almost immediately. His lips became parched, his skin shriveled, and even his eyes seemed to dry up, making it painful to blink. Still, he stubbornly pushed forward at a steady pace. He had spent years training in the heat – since his youth – and this experience was reminiscent of that time. It was almost nostalgic, really. Tatooine had nothing on Mustafar. At least the air was breathable, dry as it was. The number of hours he’d spent choking, his eyes watering due to the sulfurous, barely-sustainable atmosphere of the volcanic planet he’d been raised on were innumerable. Sidious would always send him out to train in the lava falls and hot gas geysers without breathing gear. He had claimed it was to toughen up Maul’s body, but the Zabrak had always gotten the impression that his master simply liked to see his suffering: skin blistering, coughing up mouthfuls of blood as he dragged himself back to the fortress after hours outside. But well, at least it made conditions like those on Tatooine delightful by comparison.

It took him about four standard hours and a quarter to finally catch sight of the Roiya Rift. His lungs and trachea felt as though they were made of sandpaper by then. He was very much looking forward to returning to his cave and retrieving his waterskin. However, he was not yet past the semicircle of jagged boulders that stuck out of the sandy ground marking the entrance into the labyrinth, than he felt the ardent buzzing of his kaiburr.

Master!

I know. I feel it.

The Nightbrother stopped and brought the gaderffii forward, holding it steadily in front of himself. He ran an already-dry tongue over cracked lips, inhaled deeply while tilting his head slightly back. Oh, yes. Now he could also smell it. Death lingered in the air. He recalled what his bled crystals had warned him of in his dream: You have been found.

Well, as Maul had informed them, he did not run. Squaring his shoulders, he began to walk purposefully onward, staying alert while also keeping his aura muted in the Force, so as to avoid detection by any possible Force-user.

Outside the Rift, there had been no trace of intrusion, but that was natural, as the desert winds quickly blew any tracks away. However, once he entered the canyons proper, the Zabrak made out the distinct neat line of bantha tracks on the ground, leading deeper into the maze-like, natural stone formation.

The Roiya Rift was an important ancestral land mass for the Sand People, so he was not surprised to see evidence of their presence in the slightest. Young males loved to hunt and play non-lethal wargames among the ravine, honing their tracking skills and learning to read the sky, which was the only thing visible once deep inside. The winding canyons were littered with caverns throughout, which in turn formed passageways that connected different sections. Only the Tusken tribes knew their way through the formation, and not a single living soul – not even the wisest chieftain or Storyteller – had explored all the myriad of tunnels and secret grottos inside. No one, that is, except Maul.

Located about 50 klicks north of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s old home, the Zabrak had come across the massive labyrinth soon after the blasted hermitic Jedi Master had severed his saberstaff in two. There had been a temporary Tusken settlement set up just outside the entrance, around the sharp rocks he had just passed now known as the Teeth: Maul had been drawn to the area at the time by the dim light of dying campfires. He had – ironically – raided the Raiders while most of the encampment slept, taking a knife, some rope and a robe that fit him a bit too tightly. He’d had to incapacitate a young Tusken – still dressed in the genderless garb of the tribe’s children – who had seen him, before the brat roused the entire camp. After that, the Dathomirian had fled into the Rift and found a cave to hide in until the following morning.

As soon as the suns rose, he had observed the Sand People sending their young into the maze with their bantha calves. This was how he had learned of the ritual known as the bloodrite: where Tusken of a certain age entered the Rift and hunted their first prey, officially making them adults and full members of their tribe. Well, those who managed to emerge from the canyons alive after a preset amount of time, that is. Over the years, he realized that not all the desert nomads would send their offspring into the Rift. Some merely sent them out into the desert for their bloodrite, and Maul had been lucky indeed that this particular tribe used the stone formation for their coming-of-age rituals.

He had learned much from observing those young Um’Ghorfah stalk and catch their targets. He had been pleased to see them all survive their first hunt and return to their camp, bringing in assorted live prey. Slowly but surely, since then, Maul had gradually become ingrained into their culture and way of living. Although he seldom interacted with the group after that, he grew fond of them over time, watching them live out their lives from afar.

The Ga’Rohr Tribe, in turn, respected the Zabrak, occasionally sharing their foodstuffs and supplies with him, although these were usually left for him at the entrance of the Roiya, beside the Teeth. Like all the Sand People, they were nomads, so there were portions of the year where Maul didn’t see them at all. Such was the case during the dry season, when most Tusken tribes headed towards and gathered in the Needles, a formation of stone spires that reached into the cloudless heavens and offered protection from the sandstorms that the planet was famous for.

That time of year had ended but a few weeks past, and Maul had been watching the approaching campfires from his favored vantage point high up in the canyons as the Ga’Rohr slowly made their way ever closer to the Roiya night after night. He had been anticipating their distant company, yearned to hear their yowling voices echo through the ravines as they sang to their five gods to the beat of hand drums, thankful that they had survived another season.

The Zabrak had taken to offering them gifts of his own when they finally set up their camp at the Teeth before continuing on further south towards the Gafsa: usually the large carcass of some dangerous animal such as a wraid, or maybe a couple of razorbacks. He would leave the kill in the same place as they left him supplies, and the entire clan took the offerings with celebration and festivities. They had come to see the Nightbrother as a desert spirit of sorts and felt that the fresh carcasses he left were blessings, and a sign that he bestowed prosperity upon them for another year.

As Maul moved deeper into the shadow of the canyons, the oppressive afternoon suns were soon a distant memory. The gorge was dim, as the sunlight was blocked out by the towering walls of stone. The wind whistled eerily inside these parts. The Tusken believed this to be the morose wailing of spirits of those who had gotten lost in its winding depths and never emerged. The Dathomirian usually brushed these superstitions aside, but now, as a chill settled over his bones and unease gnawed at his entrails (what he still had left of them), he understood why the Sand People held that belief. He realized that there was no sound other than the wind whispering about in the Roiya this day: even the fauna seemed to be unnaturally still. A part of him wanted to slap his chest loudly and make the grunting call that the Tusken did to call their bantha, knowing that the animals would instantly bray in response, even if they were in a riding formation. However, he decided against it and instead imitated the rest of the wildlife, keeping quiet. He had learned long ago that the natural world usually knew best.

The Zabrak followed the bantha tracks well into the Rift, noticing that these Tusken had entered far deeper into the labyrinth than any had dared before in a long time. Ever since Maul had taken up residence there, the Sand People kept a respectful distance, essentially surrendering the land to him. Only one warrior of the Ga’Rohr had been comfortable enough to visit the Nightbrother occasionally and knew where to find him. Maul realized now that the path these prints were making deviated off the main course known by the Tusken and led straight to his hidden lair. He quickened his pace. Q’Rek’rohr would never look for him during this time of year unless the situation was dire. Not when his people were still over a week away from reaching the northwestern end of the Roiya. The young Tusken would not risk K’orli making such a strenuous trip on her own.

As Maul rounded a corner in the canyons, he finally heard a sound other than the wind: gentle fluttering, the soft, lazy flapping of leathery wings. The stench of blood was now much more pronounced. Dread making his twin hearts clutch, the Zabrak almost broke into a run, his thirst and weariness forgotten. It took all of his self-discipline not to rush in headlong toward the source of noise. He didn’t need to see what it was; he already knew the sound by memory. Shifting his gaderffii onto his right hand, he reached across with his left and unhooked one half of his saberstaff from his belt and ignited the blade. The kaiburr inside trembled in anticipation. Maul could almost picture the bastard salivating in his mind’s eye.

The sight that greeted him around the next twist in the labyrinth was not what he had been expecting. Oh, no. It was far worse.

Over twenty bodies were strewn about the place, along with the scattered remains of slaughtered bantha. An entire Tusken hunting group? What in chaos were they doing so far into the Rift? The sound he’d heard was coming from urusai – reptavian carrion feeders that lived in the cliff outcroppings. They had descended to feast upon the bantha corpses and had gorged themselves into a stupor, hardly moving, save for the slow flailing of a wing as they tried unsuccessfully to digest their food faster. The gore that drew them to the area was gratuitous, unnecessary. It was a message, clearly.

The Zabrak walked among the massacre, golden eyes scanning every crevice, analyzing every shadow, his body wound up tightly with apprehension. He was angry, as furious as he had been when he’d seen the desolate wasteland that Dathomir had become after the Separatists invaded his homeland. It had happened again. Fuck!

A deep hatred boiled inside his being, fought to claw its way out of his throat with a ferocious howl. Taking ragged breaths, the Nightbrother relived the aftermath of his people’s genocide, shutting down his carmine blade and bringing his weapons to his chest, grasped in tight fists. He ground his teeth and sucked in as deep a breath as he could. That Force scream was going to burst out of him whether he wanted it to or not.

Stop. Master, STOP.

No! Let your ire ring forth throughout the Jundland. Let all HEAR your rage! They must know that we will take our VENGEANCE!

The carnage is fresh. Whoever is responsible may still be here!

I do not run!

We do not run!

Use your anger WISELY. They await your next move. They know where you are and are trying to provoke you! Fury is a powerful weapon. Do not squander it.

You are a HUNTER. You do not hide!

You ARE a hunter, my Master. A true hunter seeks his prey carefully and does not foolishly give away his location. Breathe, absorb the evidence. Then find your enemy and DECIMATE HIM.

Maul swallowed down the pained and angry shriek, letting it fester in his stomach. That’s right. He was not a child anymore, prone to tantrums. Screaming had never helped him against Sidious. It would not help him now. With trembling hands, he lowered his weapons, reattached the lightsaber hilt to his belt. He had no need for it now. And, in either case, if his secret enemy yet remained in the Rift, and Maul faced him, he would enjoy eviscerating him more with the hooked end of his gaderffii. Have the fiend taste the wrath of the Tusken. Whoever had done this did not deserve the clean, cauterized death of a…

… lightsaber strike.

There! And… that one, too! A severed arm, a bisected torso… all of them. Every single Tusken warrior littered about the ground had been cut with precise strikes that left no blood. If he paid attention, beneath the scent of gore was the bitter smell of burnt fabric, hair, and leather. Even the bantha had been cut down by sabers! The blood he detected in the air came from the holes which the urusai had made in the carcasses as they feasted. Maul’s strength faltered for a second, and his right arm came down limply, his gaffi stick touching the ground. For a moment, he allowed the complete weight of loss to fall upon his tired shoulders. Then, regaining control of himself, he felt his anger bloom forth again, and he aimed it towards new culprits.

“Your call was answered, bastards,” he seethed aloud, allowing his kaiburr to feel his ire. “Are you satisfied?”

You invited this tragedy, my Master. In our abandon, we had no other choice.

How was I to follow the strongest if you fled from us like a coward?

The Zabrak almost did scream, in that moment. Instead, he muttered a draining curse used by the defunct Nightsisters and reveled in the whimpering that only he could hear as his crystals agonized. He then resumed his walking among the dead, reconnecting to the Cosmic Force in order to gather up the body parts and move them with his mind. He piled up the dead banthas first, kicking the urusai violently out of the way. Many of them hissed and squawked, but none tried to fight him off, much too full to really move. Afterward, he began placing the dead Tusken atop their animals, one at a time.

It was while he was in the process of doing this that he saw the shrub. It was a short, elongated thing, growing a few meters away from the carnage, down the ravine a-ways, close to where the path narrowed, and the light didn’t reach at all. Strange. Maul knew the area so well, that he could navigate his way through the labyrinth with his eyes closed. No bushes or plants had ever grown in that spot before. Leaving his task unfinished, he approached the flora. It had large thorns, like a cacta bush, but no branches that he could discern. In fact, it looked like just a giant heap of bristles on the ground.

“By the Fanged God…” he muttered once he was near enough to discern a real shape in the dimness.

Three more bodies, yet unlike the others, which had been dismembered and desecrated, something far worse had been done to these. They were Tusken, like the rest, but their forms were twisted grotesquely, as though their final moments had been spent writhing in the utmost agony and torment. The reason for that torture? Those thorns, those dark barbs that were protruding from fabric and leather, breaking through skin and disfiguring flesh. What was left of the clothes they wore were stained with blood where the spikes cut the skin. It was unlike anything Maul had ever witnessed before. He knew of nothing – not in the ancient spells of the Night Clans nor the primordial teachings of the Sith nor any other Dark Side cult he had studied in his suffered life – that could do this. What he was seeing was simply… foreign. His eidetic memory could offer him nothing. Not knowing what else to do, he extended his Living Force over the corpses in order to move them out of the gloom and into a bit more sunlight.

Nothing happened.

Maul blinked, involuntarily taking a step back. Something instinctive stirred in his being, and he shuddered. This… he knew this…

Setting his jaw, the Zabrak tried again. And as before, nothing happened. Not a damned thing. His hearts suddenly beating furiously, he whirled around and focused on the first thing he saw: a bloated urusai, sleeping where he had drop-kicked it earlier. Reaching an arm out to it, he exhaled, using his frustration to fuel his power and levitate the creature. It squirmed and skreiched and flopped uselessly in the air before the Dathomirian threw it as hard as he could muster against the stone wall. He heard a sickening crack where the animal’s spine broke and it fell, dead before it hit the ground. So, that proved he had not lost his telekinesis. He removed one of his halved saberstaff pieces again, but did not ignite it, instead bringing it up to his face.

Bastards! What is this‽

You ask questions to which you already know the answer… Master.

He hissed, pointing the severed hilt directly at the nearest cadaver. Snarling, he extended his Living Force out once more, this time channeling it through the kaiburr in order to augment it.

Nothing. The body of the Tusken did not budge. When he focused even harder, all he was able to make happen was that the ground around the corpse rumbled and moaned, threatening a quake. Inside the weapon, he could feel the heat of the kaiburr as it strained in vain.

All in vain.

It has begun, as you foresaw.

Maul cursed in an ancient tongue forgotten by all but him and holstered the lightsaber. He wasn’t about to leave the wretched, deformed Tusken behind. Still, he did not want to touch them, that same primal part of his brain fearing contagion of some sort. Instead, he hooked the curved end of his gaderffii around the ankle of the nearest body and dragged it along behind him, over to the rest of the pile of bodies, where he could see better.

Trl’Urr’Rohr. The Ga’Rohr chieftain’s braided, colorful belt was unmistakable, in spite of it being mere shreds now that snaked through the dark thorns. Maul’s chest heaved. Trl’Urr’Rohr was a good leader, brave, strong, and wise. He had led his tribe for many years, since before the Zabrak became stranded on the desert planet and had formed many alliances with neighboring clans. He was a fierce warrior who didn’t shy from battle but was a peacemaker at heart. Maul had respected the Um’Ghorfah, and it boiled his blood to see what he had been rendered to.

He had been in such an ire-induced haze, that he hadn’t really paid attention to the identity of the warrior group. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Stiffly, he made his way back to the other corpses and hauled them over to the pile in similar fashion. The second of the trio, he did not recognize, although judging by his decorated garb, Maul deduced that he was one of the prominent warriors of his tribe. The Zabrak had learned that although the Tusken had no written language – they considered such a thing blasphemous – they had different ways of conveying information, other than the spoken word. One such manner was through color and patterns. The belt worn by this particular Raider denoted that he belonged to another group, not the Ga’Rohr. Joroshe, by the looks of it.

The Joroshe were a highly spiritual tribe that mainly inhabited the southern portion of the Jundland Wastes. It was rare to see one of them so far north, although he knew the clan was allied to the Ga’Rohr. Trl’Urr’Rohr and old Yekvak often sought the council of their Spirit Guides. If one of their decorated warriors was in the group, other members of the hunting party must also belong to that clan.

The third cadaver he did recognize, and once he brought the body over to the others and realized who it was, the Nightbrother fell to his knees in defeat. He had been expecting this since realizing the Tusken had gone deep into the Roiya Rift, to the areas only he knew about, but that didn’t make things easier to accept once the evidence was in plain sight.

Q’Rek’rohr.

Oh, foolish boy! Foolish, precious, idiot boy! His boy. Ironic, that after decades of searching, he had finally found a willing apprentice in a child of a race that could never produce Force-sensitives. Q’Rek’rohr: nephew of the chieftain, youngest of the O’Tal, the first koro’skt born to the Ga’Rohr and a rarity even among these prophets, and the most gifted fighter of his tribe in generations… Maul had rescued the young warrior years ago, then nursed him back to health and trained him in the art of Teräs Käsi. In return, the young Um’Ghorfah had become his fiercely loyal companion, advocating for him before his tribe and assuring that the Nightbrother would always be seen as a friend and ally to the Tusken. Even after returning to his people, as was his given place, Q’Rek’rohr never stopped visiting his savior and mentor. Maul learned as much from the lad as the boy did from him. Calling him a friend was not an accurate description. Q’Rek’rohr was his little brother.

Now, seeing the tattered remains of his protégé, the leather armbraid that he had made for the young Um’Ghorfah by hand now stretched and torn by those cursed thorns, Maul understood what must have happened. The Tusken had entered the Roiya in pursuit of someone. Someone they deemed a threat. This was not him, of course, as they had always left him alone and there was a mutual respect between him and the Sand People. Whoever it was, the Joroshe had felt they posed a strong enough threat that even he, the supposed supernatural avatar of their Skybrothers, could not fend off alone. They must have sought out the Ga’Rohr because they knew of the close bond that existed between Q’Rek’rohr and himself, that the lad would know where to find him and offer warning. He could envision how the entire group hastily came together and set off at full gallop towards the Roiya Rift, hoping to reach him before the intruder did.

Except the trespasser – curse the asshole a thousand times – had proven to be much more than the Tusken had bargained for. And, worst of all, Maul hadn’t been there. Had he been, perhaps he could have stopped the massacre from happening. Yet he had been whisked away against his will, abandoning these people after his kaiburr lured danger and death to them. Curse the whoreson, whoever he was! To chaos with him! And with Ahsoka Tano as well! Had she only returned his crystals willingly, had she only not shown up in the desert at all…! Whenever she turned up in his life, ruin followed. She was a bane, a portent of doom. A brilliant, beautiful herald of destruction and misery. Just as he was – minus the beauty – to everyone around him, anyone who held out a hand in kindness. The proof was right in front of him, piled up in a heap of death. These people had been trying to help him and look at what he had done…!

But no, the self-loathing would have to wait. His kaiburr was right: he had to remain focused and alert. He would hate himself later. (He was sure his bled crystals would love to help him out with that.) At the moment, he had a fiend to hunt.

First, though, he needed to return to his den, gather up supplies. There was the real possibility that whoever had killed the Sand People had found his hide-out and was waiting for him there. The Zabrak reached out with his aura but felt no sentient life in the ravine. That meant nothing. A skilled Force user should be able to hide their signature. Which he himself did now. It might put him at a disadvantage momentarily, since he would not be able to detect his foe’s Living Force or enhance his reaction time, but it was a risk he was willing to take. He had full faith in the more practical abilities he had been taught from his youth. He had, after all, been trained as an infiltrator and assassin for his master. In fact, Sidious had prohibited him from tapping into the Force at all until he was disciplined enough to torture and kill a Force user without it. Maul had been an adolescent then. He was so much wiser and seasoned now.

The Zabrak rose to his feet and headed over to the northern wall of the ravine. He usually scaled the surface carefully, making sure to find adequate natural footholds in the stone, leaving no trace of his presence. There was no time for such things now. Gripping his gaderffii tightly in his right hand, he took a running start and got a few meters up the wall, then swung the gaffi stick up over his head so the spiked end embedded itself into the surface. The Dathomirian used this to stick himself onto the cliff face and, grabbing the handle now with both hands, pulled himself up while simultaneously jettisoning himself off with his legs and leaping up a few more meters, bringing up the Tusken mace again and repeating the cycle. Bits of stone clattered down in his wake, and the entire gorge shuddered and echoed with the impacts of his climb.

In this manner, he soon reached a narrow outcropping in the stone that he was able to walk along if he hugged the wall. This led to a fissure in the rockface and the Zabrak squeezed through. There were other ways to reach his lair, of course, but this was the quickest, most direct route. He remained pressed between stone on both sides, his gaderffii scraping along, making the Roiya sing in metallic tones. Maul knew he was making far too much noise but didn’t care. There were so many caverns and passages in the Rift, that sound was distorted, and it was impossible to ascertain from which direction it came.

When he reached an apparent dead end, he had to climb up the wall again for some distance, bracing himself by pressing his back against the encroaching rockface and his hands and feet against the opposite one. This sideways crawl continued for a couple of meters before the walls opened up to reveal a steep drop. Without hesitation, the Zabrak let himself fall,  landing inside an area that was pitch black. He wouldn’t have been able to see his own hand if he reached up to grab his nose, but he was so familiarized with the area, that he knew exactly where to step to make his way.

Up ahead, a faint light began to illuminate portions of the tunnel, and Maul knew he was almost home free. This brightness was coming from a hole in the ceiling of his secret grotto. It allowed only enough of the suns’ rays to filter down to where the Nightbrother was able to make out the dim outline of his surroundings. At night, it was splendidly dark, except on the occasions when the moons were full. At the moment, judging by the time of day, the Zabrak knew the inside would be decently lit, at least, for his superior night vision.

Well before he reached the entrance, Maul took a deep, silent breath and held it, willing his pulse to decelerate. Only after his body stilled and his mind cooled did he continue forward, this time inching bit by bit without a sound. He was quite pleased and impressed once more with his new prosthetics. His old legs would have thundered along, regardless of how carefully he moved. Tightening his grip on his Tusken cudgel, he stepped into his abode.

There was no one inside, but there had been. Although Maul lived a simple life on Tatooine and therefore had very few commodities, whatever meager belongings he did own were strewn about the place, as though someone had flung them around in a fit of rage. Fabric was ripped, packs of dried foodstuffs shredded and stomped upon. The stash of candles he kept at Q’Rek’rohr’s insistence had also been destroyed, reduced to nothing but puddles of sand slug wax. Some of this same blue substance had been smudged onto the cavern walls, ruining the careful tribal patterns he and the young Tusken warrior had painted there years before. At first glance, the slashing smears appeared to be abstract, but Maul’s keen observations allowed him to recognize that these were no random stains, done for the sake of vandalism. This was archaic writing.

It was a good thing Maul had been educated in various forms of calligraphy, including dead scripts that had fallen out of use for thousands of years. The scrawls on his cavern walls were messy, with the blue wax dripping down before cooling into a fixed place. Not to mention, the position of the letters in relation to one another were incorrect. Still, he was able to read it anyway. Following the writing from left to right, if he started at the entrance of the den and followed the large lettering around the room, it stated:

DARITHA DARR TAH. WUN DARITHA. WUN DARR TAH.

Rakata. An ancient tongue. Used in the ages before the Old Galactic Republic came into being. Not many knew it, although it had spawned several of the modern languages of the galaxy, thanks to the Infinite Empire which had conquered most of the sentient species that inhabited space back then. It was known only to a few Force sects, the majority adhering to the Dark Side. After Sidious rose to power, Maul was sure nearly all of those factions had been eradicated, so the knowledge was lost. Among the Force cults who knew the tongue and used it in their rituals was the one he was raised in: the Sith. In fact, the message smeared around the lair was clearly meant for a Sith.

THE IMMORTAL EMPEROR. ONE EMPEROR. ONE IMMORTAL BEING.

The Zabrak scoffed. The arrogance of this prick, whoever he was. (A true sign that he was dealing with a Dark Side acolyte like himself.) Of course, that was just the literal translation. Rakata was a complex tongue that could hold many meanings in a single phrase. He would have to mull over the myriad of interpretations at another time, however. From his survey of the damage, the Dathomirian had ascertained that this foolish intruder had not discovered his true sanctum. The items in here were replaceable and meaningless.

Maul squatted down, then leapt straight up into the air, reaching up with his gaderffii as he did so and snagging the hooked end over the lip of the opening in the ceiling. With a grunt, he hauled himself through it. He was now standing on a higher platform of rock, bathed in full sunlight. From there, he walked a few paces and began scaling up the cliffside again. A few minutes of climbing and squeezing through more stone formations led him to his most special hideaway: a narrow fissure in the stone that snaked around before opening up to reveal the abandoned nest of a canyon krayt dragon. Well, abandoned wasn’t quite the correct term. Maul had killed the animal years before. Its remains were still inside, for the most part, save for a few scales and teeth he had gifted to Q’Rek’rohr and the Ga’Rohr.

In this den, the Zabrak would need a source of light to retrieve his hidden treasures. He set his gaffi stick down and removed one of Ahsoka Tano’s lightsabers from his belt. He felt a bit uneasy handling her weapons, but the hilts of his own were too long – even severed in two as they were – and he had limited space. The half-Jedi’s sabers would be better suited for this task.

The handgrip of her weapon was small and slightly curved, and in a departure from most saber designs – including his – the profile was rectangular rather than cylindrical. He could see how such a hilt was better suited for her slender hands, could almost feel her firm grasp around the handle as his own fingers clasped it now. Knowing that he was touching something of hers that was so personal made his skin prickle, not entirely in an unpleasant way. His digits fumbled a bit as he activated the blade.

The white beam of energy was pure and strong, befitting of the Togruta. Maul felt the hum of the kyber crystal inside reverberate through the hilt and up his arm, then settle in his bones, pulsate in his hearts. There was a slight resistance in the gem, accompanied by a sad yearning.

“Ah, you miss her,” he murmured, observing the shortened blade – a shoto. “You have gone through loss before, I see. Well, do not fear. You will be reunited with Lady Tano soon.” Upon saying the words, it dawned on him that he too, wished to return to her side. This new danger that had emerged did not only pose a threat to him, Maul realized. He had already come so close to losing the former spymaster to the Rodians; he would not lose her to whoever this asshole was. The pleasure of her death was his.

Using the shoto saber as a light source, the Zabrak walked deep into the cave, as far as it would go, until he came upon the desiccated remains of the large reptile, half-buried in rubble. It had been a magnificent creature in life: fast and bold and wicked. Fiercely territorial, it had defended its keep until its last shuddering breath that caused the cave-in and had crushed the Dathomirian’s leg. It had taken Maul weeks to repair it fully, and even so, the damage done to the delicate circuitry inside was something he was never able to completely mend.

The skull of the dragon was large – it could have eaten a full-grown bantha in two bites – and the Nightbrother now used the force to tilt the head back, opening the skeletal jaw. He crawled in, keeping the lightsaber straight out in front of him rather than to his side, so as to not accidentally sever any of the bones that kept the compressed rockslide from caving into the carcass. By dying in the manner that it had, the krayt dragon had accidentally provided the Dark Sider with the perfect place to stash away his prized items. The Zabrak had first hollowed out the carcass, removing all organs, fat, and major tissues, then rubbed down the insides with salted sands from the Dreviad Wastes and finally, stuffed it with dried poonten grass and herbs. He had changed out the straw every week until the animal dried out, transforming it into what it was now: his personal hidden vault.

The remains that made up the long neck of the animal was narrow and pressed close to the ground. Maul had to drag himself forward on his stomach, the glow of the white saber bobbing erratically and casting sharp shadows that danced upon the old bones. When he reached the cavity of the chest and stomach, he was able to get up into a crouch and look around.

Over the years, Maul had accumulated little, but the items he kept here were precious to him beyond measure. There was the krayt dragon’s pearl, of course. On several occasions, he had considered gifting it to the Ga’Rohr, but could not bring himself to part with it. The sphere – nearly the size of his fist – seemed to speak to him with a unique resonance, akin to kyber crystals, even though that should have been impossible. The Zabrak often found himself talking to it as he would a living person. Perhaps it was just the endless solitude driving him insane, for he found himself seeking out the pearl most often when Q’Rek’rohr and his tribe were away from the area, riding out the storm season in the Needles.

Aside from the pearl, he still had some scales which he had ripped off the hide of the creature, wrapped carefully in old fabric, and placed in a leather bag. Some of these he had given away, as tokens of his respect. A few he had sold in Bestine in exchange for parts and tools needed for the maintenance of his legs. This equipment he found now in a small sporran, which he quickly attached to his belt, letting it dangle down his front.

There was also an old spacer’s strongbox with a broken lock. Maul had found it buried in the sand, empty of its contents. He had decided to keep it, despite its condition, because he figured he was security enough against theft. Inside, he had placed several books – some of which he’d bought in the markets of Bestine or Artnthout, others which he had crafted himself – all about various religions and philosophies of the galaxy. There was wisdom in these old tomes, and knowledge was something he felt held more value than meryx. If his seeker had actually found these, Maul would have truly worried. Many of the primordial texts were spellbooks and therimoires: manuals for dark rituals and unnatural practices. There was a smaller wooden coffer beside the strongbox where he kept the quills and ink he’d made to jot down annotations and observations in some of the blank flimsiplast leatherbound books he kept. Both of these cases, he put inside the leather rucksack with the dragon scales.

Maul had also kept a few outfits stashed away inside the belly of the canyon krayt. They weren’t extraordinary by any means – he never embellished his attire the way the O’Tal did, even though Q’Rek’rohr had insisted that he should – but they were his best. He had taken great care not to stain or tear the fabric and would only wear them on the rare occasions when he was invited to a tribal celebration. Seeing as how the bastard intruder had ransacked his den and apparently ripped up his day-to-day attire, now these clothes were all the Zabrak had left to wear. He considered changing into a set now, or at least slip a tunic on under the white robe, but he didn’t have the emotional fortitude. Not yet. Not when the bodies of the people who had taken him in still lay out there, at the foot of the ravine, unburied like felled beasts.

Once he packed the clothing into the duffel bag along with ammunition packs for his cycler rifle and bundles of dried herbs and roots used in medicines and teas, there was only one more thing left to take.

When he reached over and pulled the bundle of worn fabric toward himself, his entire arm was noticeably trembling. Dwang, old man, get a grip on yourself. Great, now he was even starting to sound like Ahsoka Tano when carrying on his internal monologue.

Although he knew what was wrapped so meticulously inside that swath of cloth, he couldn’t help but open up the folds and peer inside. He didn’t want to risk leaving any part of this set behind. He had to look, no matter how much misery it now caused him to do so.

There were two alasl, one nestled inside the other. Q’Rek’rohr had made them for him, silly child, risking life and limb to obtain the calcified clay required to make them. Alasl bowls were rare, for they were exceedingly difficult to create, requiring scalding water continuously poured upon the terracotta while the craftsman worked the material. Once treated and baked, the clay hardened up to the likeness of karnite and became impermeable to any type of moisture, regardless of the liquid’s properties, temperature or duration submerged. For this reason, strangers to the Tusken culture thought they were carved from some type of stone. These holy earthenware dishes could only be fashioned by those deemed sacred themselves. As a koro’skt, Q’Rek’rohr had been given permission by the other O’Tal to go through with the task and gift the finished product to whomever he wished. As he was a born prophet, the tribe leaders never questioned the young warrior.

Maul had. The Dathomirian had been vehemently against the idea, claiming to not need such frivolities, although the true reason was that he had been worried for his student. Q’Rek’rohr had travelled south of the Wound on his own, with only his bantha to accompany him, and was gone for several months. Upon his return, he proudly showed that he had created four alasl: one for Yekvak, one for his mother, and the remaining two for the Zabrak. The young Tusken had even carved a set of ladles to go with the bowls, decorating them with the same tribal designs he and Maul had painted on the walls of the hidden cave. The Nightbrother had accepted them with humility, deeply moved. No one before – save perhaps for his training squad from Orsis or Savage – had ever gifted him anything without expecting something in return, let alone an item that had required sweat and skill to procure. Now these ceremonial bowls were all he had left of the Um’Ghorfah. He took extreme care to rewrap the items meticulously before tucking them in among his clothing, providing as much padding around them as he could. With all his belongings inside the rucksack, the Zabrak closed up the leather bag, then shut down the lightsaber and holstered it. He no longer had need of a light source.

He pushed the heavy leather bag before him as he bellycrawled his way back out of the dragon’s mummified remains, once more using the Force to lift the skull and worm his way out. He was filthy and sweaty, but that was alright. That just meant he was on Tatooine, kept him from deluding himself that everything was just a dream. No, this was a living nightmare.

He had a bit of a rough time getting back out of the fissure, as he was much bulkier now that he was taking his pack, and it was more difficult to wield his gaderffii after he recovered it due to the extra weight of his duffel bag. Once he managed, he bypassed reentering his other den altogether, impatient to descend and tend to the dead. He didn’t want the cursed urusai starting up their gluttonous gore-fest again.

When he reached the scene of the massacre, he paused, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t very well leave the bodies where he’d piled them up. The Sand People deserved more respect from him than that, especially since he was sure they’d given up their lives for his sake. In the end, he decided he would move them closer to the entrance of the Roiya, where their remains were guaranteed to be found by passing tribes. And as he didn’t know what in chaos those blasted thorns were, he would take the three afflicted bodies with him, back to the ship. It was a sacrilege not to allow them to be found by their kin and their skulls removed for the urtya shrines, but the real desecration had been to end their lives in such a torturous and deforming way. Maul needed to know what those things were made of, so hate it as he might, a biomass scan was in order. If the Togruta didn’t have that feature installed into her medical computer, he would find a way to get one done elsewhere. Perhaps he would have to pay Qi’Ra a visit after all. If that meant he would be putting her and the rest of the Crimson Dawn Syndicate at risk of this new menace, so be it. There was no real loyalty among cartels, and he knew his ex-lieutenant would not hesitate to do the same to him, were their roles reversed.

He began by carrying the unaffected corpses out by twos: one body slung over each shoulder. He walked them all the way to the entrance of the Rift, just where the shadow of the canyon began in earnest, and laid them down, side by side. Ten trips later, he was exhausted and had removed Lady Tano’s cloak, leaving it draped over his rucksack and gaffi stick, which he had left along the walls of the gorge a short distance from the opening of the labyrinth. All of the Tusken had been successfully moved. Now all he needed was the bantha corpses. It was believed among the Sand People that a rider and his mount should remain together from birth to death. Some tribes even downed bantha whose owner had died, just so the two could be put to rest together.

Despite his crippling exhaustion – likely caused by dehydration and the onslaught of heat stress – the Dathomirian continued in his labor by levitating the animals along using the Force. He couldn’t allow the riders to be separated from their bulls. For this, he was unable to move more than one creature per trip, so when the last bantha was lowered into the circle he’d formed with their cadavers around the dead Tusken, Maul allowed himself to collapse against one of the herbivore’s woolly carcasses. Twenty-one steeds in total, and nineteen warriors. Whew, he was getting dizzy with the strain.

The Zabrak blinked a few times and stood back up unsteadily. He counted again. Yes, twenty-one bantha corpses and nineteen Um’Ghorfah. He still hadn’t figured out a way to move the three others entangled in briers, so once he added those to his total count… there was a bantha missing. But… how had he missed one? Surely the urusai hadn’t consumed it all by the time he’d arrived. He would have, at the very least, discovered the bloodied bones. Maul growled. The intruder. The thought that the culprit of the carnage had kept a steed and was now using it to move freely around Tatooine was making his aura roil and rage. Banthas were so loyal to their Tusken partners, however, that he couldn’t fathom how the cursed bastard would have ever successfully tamed one. Even if he tried to subjugate one of the animals using the Force, he would likely fail. Not all Force wielders could connect with fauna and flora. If this one was able to do so…

His thoughts were interrupted by a desolate sound echoing in the canyon: a morose braying. Maul instantly latched his attention onto the noise. It was coming from deep inside the Roiya, back in the direction from where he’d come. There were still about three hours left of daylight, give or take a few minutes, but inside the labyrinth of stone, shadows elongated rapidly, and dusk descended within the gorge much quicker than the rest of the desert. Already, a nocturnal gloom had taken over much of the landscape, with the Skybrothers chasing one another towards a new sunset on the other end of the maze.

The low bellowing came again, and without hesitation, the Dathomirian walked into the Rift once more, stumbling towards the source. He was certain that this was the missing bantha. He soon reached the bodies of the thorned corpses, but now the gorge was silent. Maul felt drained; perhaps he had imagined the entire thing. But, no… there it was again. A lonely bleating moan, further on the same path. It was definitely a bantha calling to its herd. He tried to keep his focus and scanned the ground, at last making out the prints in the dirt, leading away haphazardly rather than in the practiced lines the animals were trained to walk in. The creature had departed in a blind run, surely terrified. Almost in a daze, he chased both sound bouncing off the rockface and trail as the light grew ever fainter.

He eventually tracked the animal to a dead end. It was much smaller in size than the other banthas, with delicate haunches and softer-looking fur. Its face was slenderer and its curved horns much thinner and smoother than was typical for a bull. That was because it wasn’t a bull. This bantha was a cow. Maul’s breath caught in his throat and when he tried to speak, all that emerged was a choking sound. Only one Tusken warrior in the Northern Jundland wastes rode a female mount.

Upon hearing the noise which the Dathomirian made, the animal turned and looked at him, then stomped her feet, startled. She huffed loudly and brayed, running back and forth along the rockface opposite him, unsure of how to best get away. In her desperation, she began foaming at the mouth, and she butted her graceful horns against the walls of the canyon as though trying to break it down. When Maul made towards her, the bantha’s agitation only grew. Her bleats became bellows of panic, and for a moment, the Zabrak thought she was going to charge at him. He sighed in frustration. Stupid animal!

“K’orli…” he rasped, extending an arm, and holding out his hand palm down in a soothing gesture. Oh, fate was being a cruel bitch this day.

The bantha paid no heed, her eyes wild, head swaying from side to side. She didn’t recognize him. Well, of course she would not. During all the times that Q’Rek’rohr had come around to visit, the Nightbrother had always been dressed as a Tusken. He never removed his garments anymore unless he was in absolute solitude, as was their custom. And the single time K’orli saw his face exposed, she had been but a juvenile calf, not yet fully grown. He wasn’t sure how long a bantha’s memory was, but he did know that to her, he must look absolutely horrifying at the moment.

He began making a low rumbling sound in his chest, almost like a growl, except softer and continuous. Some instinct made him carry on the deep purr in an attempt to placate the beast of burden. The bantha’s ears perked up and she blinked, her eyes dilating. She ceased her stomping soon after but remained nervous and wouldn’t let Maul approach her.

The Zabrak kept up the reverberating drone for a minute, then began to strike his chest with an open palm at a steady beat while grunting, calling the animal to him. K’orli stomped – this time out of uncertainty – shaking her head a bit. When Maul said her name, the bantha took a few cautious steps toward him, ears swiveled to the front, alert. As soon as she was close enough to get a whiff of his musk, the cow’s scent spiracles flared, and she let out a surprised bray as she finally identified who he was.

Then she was upon him, butting her head hard into his torso, nearly knocking Maul off his cybernetic feet. She moaned loudly and nuzzled him, her entire frame trembling in simultaneous terror and relief. The Dathomirian’s arms instantly encircled the animal’s neck, his hands burying themselves into her long wool. He kept grunting Tusken reassuringly at her, bringing down his mental shields fully and allowing the bantha’s Living Force to connect with his.

Startled screams, sudden movement. Danger! The comforting weight of her rider was gone. She saw him leaping, light and quick as the wind. She tried to follow his movements but lost him in the fray. Bodies tossed around, the sound of wood and metal hitting stone, ringing in the canyons.

Monstrous shadowy predators with glowing eyes. Then, from the black forms…

A flash of red, brilliant as blood. The smell of charred flesh. She trampled around with the other banthas, but in their confusion and panic, they were all rather useless. Where was her rider? The bulls around her roared dully. Soon, she could smell burning hair as well, and the bulls began to fall.

Grunts and screams, choked off cries. A bright red tongue of blood-lightning made for her, nicked her rear leg as she tried to escape. Pain, searing, blinding. She stumbled, braying loudly, groaning in her terror, spittle flying from her mouth and soaking her beard. Death was so near. Death! Death!

An angry roar. Her rider! He came up behind the shadow creature and swung his weapon in a powerful downward swipe. The monster crumpled up against her flank with a shriek, its blood staining her wool. The scent was repulsive and alien to her. The thing pushed itself off her and shoved away from itself with magic wind that did its bidding. Her rider was flung backwards but twisted his body in midair and landed gracefully. Having caught their attention, the two other shadow forms began to move towards him, cutting down everything in their wake, their red rods of light raised and reflecting off Q’Rek’rohr’s goggles and gaderffii.

“ARRU!” her rider shouted at her, his voice despairing. “K’ORLI – ARRU!”

She knew the command well, as he had trained her from a tender age to flee when the situation became too dangerous. She never failed to obey without question. In the end, he always came back to her. Her rider always found her.

She bolted as fast as her limp allowed her to, only to have her path blocked by one of the black predators. This one had two red tongues emerging from covered forelimbs. She froze, terrified. Something about this creature kept her from trying to move forward, or even around him. She didn’t dare turn her back and run the other way either. It was as though she were hypnotized.

Mismatched eyes from within the black mass locked her into place: one a milky yellow, pale and sickly as the desert moons before a night sandstorm, the other a fiery orange that glowed like the embers of dying campfires. They regarded her for what seemed an eternity, judging her. The bantha’s innards trembled and shook, rousing the feeble life growing in her womb until it, too, squirmed its discomfort. Those horrid eyes blinked, then the creature turned and walked around her, making for her rider. K’orli bleated morosely. At her core, she knew she would never see her beloved Tusken ever again.

As she limped away, the last sound she heard was an interminable scream of pain as the monsters ripped her rider apart. He had told her to flee, and she would obey. She would always follow his voice.

Maul’s entire body shuddered, and he allowed himself to collapse against the bantha, his fingers tangling up in the wool of her mane to keep himself upright. The feral scream he had suppressed for so long broke apart inside him, shattered as his hearts seemed to be. It escaped his lips in short, angry, growling sobs instead which he tried to swallow back down in vain. When his vision swam out of focus, he hid his face in the animal’s neck and shut his eyes tightly.

He only allowed himself a few seconds of anguish, however, before his mind instantly went over the information he’d learned from the bantha’s memories with a critical eye. She had seen three individuals, meaning the problem was greater than Maul had first anticipated. He had truly been expecting a single power-hungry bastard, not a group. And… ruby blades. K’orli didn’t know it, of course, but what she had seen were lightsabers, and the scarlet variety meant only one thing: bled kyber.

In turn, bleeding crystals were only ever used by two groups in modern history: the Sith Lords and the Empire’s Inquisitorius. Both tied to his former master. That message painted on the walls of his den was beginning to make a lot more sense. Could the culprits of the massacre and the ones seeking him out be Inquisitors? Somehow, that didn’t seem right. The Empire’s Red Blades had disappeared before the Battle of Yavin, having fulfilled their purpose, for the most part.

As leader of the Crimson Dawn with wealth and power at his disposition, Maul had kept an extensive file on these Dark Side acolytes and had personally slain several of the program’s members. He had made note of all their deaths, including the ones slain by the Rebellion and those felled by Vader himself. However, due to his stint on Malachor, he had eventually lost his place in the higher echelons of the underground and therefore the resources required to continue keeping tabs on them. There were perhaps four whose demise he never fully verified. He supposed it could be possible that a surviving few had resurfaced.

Or someone wanted him to believe that was the case.

The three attackers he had seen in the bantha’s memories were well coordinated, not even needing to speak to each other at all during the attack. The idiot Inquisitors were bickering half the time, and getting their asses handed to them the other half. They could not work as a team to save their lives, and when going up against him, it often had cost them their lives. Like all adherents to the Dark Side, they had been selfish, arrogant, and greedy, each wanting to take glory for themselves, ignoring their own obvious shortcomings. They would never trust each other to work together so seamlessly. The only reason they had served Vader and Sidious as long as they had was because they were afraid of them. (Who hadn’t been afraid of those two?) Yet now that both Sith Lords were dead, he doubted whether any ex-Inquisitor would still pledge loyalty to the Emperor. Sidious had forced them into servitude; he had practically enslaved them. That scrawl on Maul's cavern was not in reference to his former master.

Then there was the one who had stopped K’orli from leaving. Something about the way it moved, and those strange, incompatible eyes… Both its orbs looked organic, so Maul didn’t think he was dealing with a cyborg like himself. But as he began to rifle through the mental catalogue he’d formed on various species throughout the years, not a single one came to mind that had such dimorphic optical sensors. There were species with multiple eyeballs, and sometimes those varied in size, function, or even color, but the differences were never to the extent which he had seen through the bantha’s memories. He would certainly have remembered any Inquisitor with a feature as distinct as that.

Not to mention: it let K’orli go in the end. From what he gathered, the bantha had become distressed to the point where her unborn calf began to move inside her. Huh. He hadn’t even known the cow was pregnant. She hadn’t been, the last time Q’Rek’rohr had visited, which meant she must have found a mate during the dry storm season. The Nightbrother walked around the bantha’s side, running his hands along her belly, pressing gently. There was no discernable bump yet, but her mammary glands were swollen. She was pregnant, alright.

What bull had she taken as a mate? He briefly wondered how Q’Rek’rohr had felt about it. As a koro’skt, the young warrior was exempt from the regular roles within Tusken society, and so was his cow. Sand People did everything with their companion bantha, including marriage, but because Q’Rek’rohr and K’orli were opposite genders, the boy would never be able to pair up with a woman of his tribe, for female Tusken all had cows, males had bulls. If the banthas could not form a mating couple between them, the riders could not either. Yet K’orli had obviously found a loophole somehow. Perhaps Q’Rek’rohr had found a koro’skt from another tribe: a female Tusken with a bull bantha. It was rare, but not unheard of. Had his brother married during his time in the Needles? Maul felt his chest tighten, unsure of what to feel. He would have been so proud of the Um’Ghorfah if his death weren’t currently tainting his emotions with misery. He tried to push any such thoughts out of his mind.

The relevant thing was that whoever these attackers were, they clearly understood the significance of banthas in the Tusken culture. The one with odd eyes had, at least. Obviously, it had let the animal go because she was a pregnant female. Tusken Raiders were vicious, when need be, but they would never hurt a bantha, even if it was going on a wild rampage. They would simply get out of the way and let the animal tire itself out or even kill itself by stampeding over a cliff. The only time some tribes would make an exception was when the rider died before his bantha, and they wanted to lay the animal to rest with its Tusken so their bones could always be together, thus completing their journey of life as a pair. Even so, not all tribes took this stance. The Ga’Rohr did not, merely letting the beasts of burden wander off into the desert to die of sorrow, which most did, sometimes within hours.

Even though the attack had been carried out without mercy for the Tusken, K’orli had been spared when the other banthas had not because she was a sacred cow, special amongst her tribe. And now, she was carrying new life. A skilled Force user was surely to feel the unborn calf’s developing aura emanating from its mother’s womb. Whoever this ugly-eyed bastard was, it had known the laws of the Raiders, and, more importantly, respected and adhered to them. Maul frowned, and leaning against K’orli’s flank, he muttered to himself: “Ghorfa.” He knew that should make no sense, as Tusken physiology simply didn’t allow for the birth of Force-sensitives. They had a distinctly low count of midichlorians in their genetic makeup. Yet there was no doubt in the Dathomirian’s mind that the Tusken hunting party had been slain by one of their own, or rather, someone like him: an off-worlder who had been miraculously embraced by the usually distrustful Sand People. There was simply no other explanation for K’orli’s survival. The thought of it only served to enrage him further.

Another thing occurred to him as he rested against the side of the poor beast. One of the attackers had hurt her, then been maimed by her Tusken. Blood had splattered on her.

Shit. The fiend’s gore must still be on her.

Maul moved to K’orli’s wounded hind leg, and she brayed in pain but didn’t move away as he passed his hands carefully over it, trying to ascertain the amount of damage she had taken. Fortunately, it was only a surface injury, with her shaggy fur protecting her flesh for the most part. And although her cut was cauterized, the Zabrak’s hand did come across a spot caked with blood when he checked the wool around the area. He knelt beside the bantha in order to get a closer look. Once he found the clump of knotted fur, since the fluid had clotted and dried onto the wool and he couldn’t see it well in the fading light, Maul stuck a bit of the bantha’s matted hair into his mouth and suckled on it.

The taste of blood made the Nightbrother’s stomach rumble, and he realized he was famished, not having eaten anything since before Ahsoka Tano showed up on Tatooine. The ex-Jedi had actually ruined his dinner, for he had been out hunting when he sensed the angry reaction of the kaiburr to her Living Force. He’d left his catch behind – a plump faybo – when he ventured to Kenobi’s old hut to investigate, allowing a local bonegnawer he’d semi-tamed to keep the kill. However, now Maul muscled past his hunger, trying to focus on the specific flavors of the cruor in his mouth. He’d eaten quite a few different sentients during his time on Lotho Minor, and although he wasn’t fond of remembering that portion of his life, he could still discern different species by how their flesh tasted.

Umbaran. Well, wasn’t this interesting… A pasty-skinned, pale-eyed Umbaran would surely roast almost instantly on Tatooine, unless wearing protective gear. Their optic nerves, certainly, wouldn’t be able to handle the bright sunlight reflected off the desert sands. Most importantly: there had never been anyone in the ranks of the Inquisitorius who hailed from Umbara, although there had been at least one member of that species he was familiar with who had been loyal to Sidious.

The Zabrak straightened up. This was something he would need to mull over someplace else, not out in the open. For now, he needed to get out of the Roiya Rift, off of Tatooine for good. Still, when he tried to get back up on his feet, he found that he had no energy left to do so. The desert had taken its toll on him, and his gruesome discovery of the Tusken slayings had shoved any thoughts of attending to his own basic needs completely out of his psyche. That was coming back to bite him in the ass now. His weary mind beginning to drift into unconsciousness, the Zabrak started pawing absentmindedly at the bantha’s saddle, hoping to find something – anything – edible. But K’orli wasn’t carrying waterskins this time. In their haste to reach the Roiya Rift, the Ga’Rohr had likely failed to equip their bantha properly. No hubba gourds that he could see, either. Tired and dazed, Maul settled himself into a sitting position on the ground, leaning into the cow with a heavy sigh. As though sensing his condition, K’orli turned her face to look at him and lowed softly, extending her long, prehensile tongue in order to reach him, and began licking at his temple. Maul could sense the animal’s concern. In her current situation, he was the only thing she had left for protection and comfort, at least until she made it back to her tribe.

As he distractedly patted the bantha’s side, his hand happened to brush against her udders again, and he got an idea. Bantha had long gestation periods – about 30 standard months – yet they began producing milk since the onset of their pregnancy. It was believed that this was due to the symbiotic relationship the animals shared with Sand People. Tusken women usually waited until their cows were expecting young before mating repeatedly with their husbands until they became pregnant as well. They did this so they could share the experience of creating new life along with their animals. And since Um’Ghorfah had shorter gravidity cycles than bantha, their offspring were always born first. A bantha’s milk was shared between the young, for Tusken females did not lactate, but were mammals whose children required milk to survive. Maul grabbed one of the beast’s teats and squeezed a little while pulling down, and sure enough, a small amount of creamy blue liquid dripped onto his palm. K’orli brayed at the new sensation, obviously not accustomed to it, but she held still and allowed it. This might have been due to her gentle disposition, or perhaps some instinct in her had awakened, and she somehow knew it was natural.

The Zabrak leaned back onto the floor until he was right underneath the cow. Aiming the mamilla, he began squirting short streams of fluid into his mouth, being careful not to actually latch on to the animal. Milking a bantha was a completely acceptable practice among Tusken, but they believed that the cow’s young should be the only ones to actually take their mother’s nipple.

K’orli’s milk was still a bit runny, due to the early stages of her pregnancy, but it was slightly sweet and fortifying, nonetheless. The gentle beast continued licking at him, her extremely long tongue finding and lapping at Maul’s elbow. She began making the soft grunting sounds mother banthas made to their calves while nursing them. As the warm liquid went down his esophagus, the Dathomirian’s innards rumbled appreciatively. However, after only a few gulps, his stomach clenched painfully, and he felt his organs seize up where they merged with his new cybernetics. Perhaps the bantha milk was still too rich for him to consume so soon after surgery. Maul groaned and rolled over on the dirt, curling up into a ball until the spasms passed. When he was finally able to sit up, his entire trunk was sore. Still, at least he no longer felt as though he were about to pass out.

After a few minutes, during which the bantha went on grooming him affectionately, the Nightbrother got to his feet. The light in the canyon had dimmed considerably. It would be pitch dark in the Roiya soon. Rubbing K’orli’s side appreciatively, Maul grunted the Tusken word that indicated he was about to mount and patted her shoulder, then grabbed ahold of one of her spiraling horns and hauled himself atop her saddle. He wasn’t all too comfortable with riding the poor animal, seeing as how she was wounded, and his prosthetics made him heavier than what she was used to carrying, but the Zabrak knew he needed to recuperate and save his strength as much as possible. He was beginning to believe more and more that whoever had killed the Tusken had long ago left the Rift, but could still be on the planet, perhaps still even be in the Jundland Wastes. A confrontation was still possible, and he was not in the best shape to face off against anyone at the moment. In fact, Maul was sure he would have trouble fending off a squad of squill or even a lone sandtusker. He needed sanctuary where he could recuperate, undisturbed, for a few hours. Gently squeezing K’orli’s neck with his ankles, the Dathomirian urged the bantha forward, steering her in the correct direction by applying slight pressure on her shoulders the way Q’Rek’rohr had taught him years ago. The bantha responded immediately, lumbering slowly forward, keeping quiet as all Tusken steeds knew to do while in formation.

In this manner, they soon reached the site of the massacre. Maul’s shoulders sagged as he caught sight of the three mangled corpses still lying there. The only thing he was grateful for was that the urusai had dispersed and left them alone. Apparently, even the carrion feeders were wary of coming near the strange bristles. He quickly dismounted and went to the bodies, pushing back against K’orli’s head because she kept trying to go to her rider. She moaned and lowed loudly several times, but eventually stopped her attempts at reaching Q’Rek’rohr when the Dark Sider used the Force to lightly shove her back a few paces.

“Urr gaghgt oru’gu,” he grunted at her while signing, although he wasn’t sure how much banthas could actually understand real language. He conveyed his intent to her through the Force: I am not leaving them here.

The Zabrak approached the cow and removed her leather saddle and riding mats, taking them over to the thorned cadavers. Spreading out the material and layering it, Maul studied how in the world he was supposed to move these Tusken without touching them. For a fleeting second, his thoughts returned to Ahsoka Tano. He wondered if she had felt as hopelessly inadequate as he did right now when she needed to move his prone form onto that leather tarp. Well, at least she had been able to use the Force, in the end, although she had been a bit clumsy about it. Maul didn’t have that option available, and he couldn’t touch them either, or rather, he wasn’t comfortable doing so. Not until he found out what in chaos those cursed growths were made of.

In the end, since he had left his gaderffii back near the entrance to the Roiya, Maul was left with no choice but to use only his prosthetics to move the three bodies. He didn’t really kick them, but he nudged them along with his feet, rolling them over and over until he got them onto the saddle material. K’orli moaned when he did this to Q’Rek’rohr, and the Zabrak too, felt horrible about it. To have to treat the people who had respected him with such disregard for their bodies – especially knowing how much Tusken venerated their dead – was a new low for him. He tried to get it done as quickly as possible.

Once he was finished, he took the thick rope used to secure the saddle in place and tied up his gruesome bundle with it. There was some length of cord left over, sticking out of the parcel and Maul tied one end of it to the bantha’s under-harness. She would have to drag the dead along. When everything was set, he guided K’orli out of the labyrinth, walking beside her head and occasionally rubbing her forehead soothingly.

Back at the entrance of the Rift, he left the bantha beside the Teeth while he returned to the heap of corpses he’d made earlier. The suns had finally set, and the frigid, crisp night nipped at his skin. However, the Zabrak ignored the cold, letting his anger at the injustice of it all consume him and fuel the power of his Living Force, heating up his core. Then, with tremendous effort, he brought down a rockslide upon the bodies, carefully covering the corpses completely so urusai wouldn’t continue feasting on them. He made sure to leave the heads of the Tusken exposed, however. Hopefully, their clans would find them and be able to identify the remains, eventually taking their heads to rest upon their family altars. It made him miserable to think he had no way of telling the Tusken what had occurred. Ironically, the tribes were likely to think he had killed the hunting party. They were a superstitious people and had held him in a type of awed reverence tinged with fear. With these dark thoughts, the Zabrak returned to K’orli and leaned against her side, feeling wretched.

After a few seconds, Maul realized he had been absentmindedly weaving his fingers through the animal’s woolly mane, which got him thinking. Despite having no written language, Tusken communicated in various ways, like in the ornamentations worn by O’Tal such as Trl’Urr’Rohr, his nephew and the Joroshe warrior. Yes, colors and patterns. Maul had earned his own motif as well, bestowed upon him by old Yekvak when Q’Rek’rohr introduced the Zabrak to his clan. In fact, it was displayed in the intricate knotwork on the young warrior’s sleeve: the armbraid had been fashioned by Maul himself, as a gift when the boy took his rightful place among the leaders of the Ga’Rohr. The decorative leather weave told a story of survival and perseverance, one that the Um’Ghorfah had worn proudly. It also displayed the special knot created especially for Maul to show that he had taught the boy and remained an important part of his life.

Deftly, he started to make a simple braid in the bantha’s wool, then began to twist and loop until he formed a rough approximation of his brand. He didn’t have time to perfect it, and in either case, the Dathomirian’s design was unique enough to where it was easily recognizable. Knots were reserved for their utmost special tribe members – such as ancestors – or deities and mythical beings. Maul was considered both. Even Q’Rek’rohr didn’t have an individual motif, instead placing two – one that represented his tribe, the other that was reserved for all koro’skt – next to each other when representing himself in the sacred weavespeak.

Maul kept his message plain, using the limited number of knots and braids available to get his point across. Not all Tusken could decipher weavespeak – that honor was usually reserved for high-ranking O’Tal, and even so, most were only taught a handful of patterns – but a seasoned Storyteller would be able to understand the entire thing. And among the various Sacred Orators of the Jundland, Yekvak was considered among the wisest. If the Ga’Rohr came across the braidstory, Yekvak would see to it that they understood what had occurred.

The Dathomirian began the woven code using his knotted sigil to identify himself as the creator of the note. There were no verbs or adjectives in weavespeak, so it was tricky business, communicating in this manner. He made three of the loops that represented foreigners and used a twisted variety which the Tusken used to symbolize the Demon Outlander: a supernatural being that had wiped out an entire village decades past. He added the figures for death, blood, sorrow. Then: anger, war. He paused, nearing the end of K’orli’s long strand of wool. How could he explain to them that he was leaving in order to seek retribution? Ah, hunt. The elegant hoop that signified the sky, then transforming it into the tight square knot that meant to search for or stalk. Another tie meaning anger, then blood again. Finally, justice. Despite their warlike culture, the Tusken had no concept of revenge. To them, seeking comeuppance was merely a way of rebalancing the natural order. There was no hate, only righteousness. One sought reprisal because that was fair. They were taking back what was theirs: be that water, territory, or another’s life. He ended the braidstory with his special knot again, then made an ending bind to hold it in place. He pushed his face into the bantha’s mane and bit through her fur where the message began. Zabraks didn’t have fangs, but their incisors were quite sharp, so he cut the braid loose easily. Gentle K’orli held still for the entire ordeal, as though understanding the importance of what he was doing.

With his message complete, Maul walked back into the Roiya and carefully draped the bantha braid atop the burial mound, making sure to pin it in place with some of the stones. He hoped whoever found it would understand and find some type of solace. For him, there would be no relief. His was the hatred the Tusken were not allowed to feel, and he would bring their brand of torment to the bastard perpetrators before snuffing out their pathetic lives.

When he had finished, he gathered up his duffel bag and weapon, then threw on Ahsoka Tano’s white robe over everything. He was completely drained – physically, mentally, emotionally – but he paid his misery no heed. Not even Pain, who was desperately trying to get his attention, could make him lose his focus now. Maul set himself the goal of returning to the T-6 before daybreak, and he would devote his thoughts only to that task now. K’orli followed along, never resisting, even though they were walking in the opposite direction from the Ga’Rohr’s temporary camp. The bantha moved slowly, encumbered by both her burden and her injury. The going back was surely to take a few more hours than he had taken to arrive at the Roiya. Just as he had when he’d left the shuttle hours earlier, Maul did not look over his shoulder a single time. Nostalgia and longing had no place here. There was nothing left within the Roiya that he cared about anyway.

About six hours later, the sky was beginning to change its hue in the east to a light grey, with a dim lavender smudging along the horizon like a bruise. He had perhaps two more hours before the first sun began to rise. In the distance, the Zabrak could make out the silhouette of the conveyance shuttle, a part of him surprised that the two Rodians inside had not simply flown off. They were either truly frightened of him, or they didn’t know how to pilot the damn thing. Perhaps both.

When he reached it, he saw that the boarding ramp on the ship was raised, so the Zabrak left his pack and weapon with the bantha standing beside them, instructing her to stay put while he walked around to the front of the shuttle. He leapt up onto one of the wings, right beside the cockpit and plainly visible from the inside. Impatiently, he pounded on the viewing window with the side of his fist. Inside, he caught sight of a dozing R’ekzi scrambling to her feet, violet eyes opening wide and reaching for the cycler rifle. As soon as she saw it was only him, her features relaxed and he lost her from view as the young girl made her way to the main entrance. Below, K’orli brayed and stomped in alarm as the boarding ramp was lowered. Maul jumped down from his perch and went to her in time to see Neyomi standing at the top of the ramp, peering out suspiciously with Ahsoka Tano’s blaster at the ready.

«This ship has a rear cargo area,» he called up to her before she could say anything. «It has its own boarding ramp. Go lower it. I will meet you there.»

By the time he led the bantha around to the back part of the T-6, the secondary access platform was lowering with a hiss. R’ekzi exited the shuttle as soon as the ramp touched the sand, and she approached him, staring at the bantha in awe and a bit of fear. The cow stomped nervously upon catching a whiff of the Rodian’s pheromones, the reptilian scent triggering the beast’s instincts. He supposed the girl did smell a bit like a scyk, only a cleaner, more pleasant version. He patted the bantha’s head and grunted at her reassuringly. Then, after walking around and untying the rope from K’orli’s harness, he approached the Rodian and handed her the tether.

“Haul this onboard and leave it beside the ramp on the ground. Do so without touching the bulk, and do not attempt to unwrap it or look inside. Understood?”

R’ekzi nodded solemnly and lowered her eyelids while bowing her head as a sign of respect. “Yes, Lord Kuvik,” she murmured.

“Get your Nabba to help you. It is a heavy load,” he added as he turned back to face the cow.

He regarded the bantha for a while, stroking her wool, then began to take the harness off of her. He couldn’t do much more for the poor beast. The leg would be sore for a few days but would mend on its own. She had been fortunate not to sustain a deeper cut.

He was sad to see her go and wished he had been able to take her back to the Ga’Rohr personally. However, he knew bantha had an excellent sense of direction; she would find her people, especially if they went out looking for the hunting party that never returned. She would likely be in greater danger if he insisted on getting her back to camp himself. There was also a cowardly part of him that did not want to face the Tusken tribe. He would never be able to stand tall before A’Rek’rohr and K’urur again.

K’orli shook herself once she was free of the harness, and she turned to lick at him again. Maul rubbed her forehead, then lightly butted his spiked head to her curved horns. The scraping of bone against bone made his skull hum, filling a tiny part of the vast emptiness he felt inside. The bantha seemed to enjoy it as well, and she bobbed her head up and down in order to scratch their horns together some more. With a final pat on the beast’s shoulder, Maul stepped away, grunting his farewell to her in Tusken and telling her to return to camp. The cow looked at him and lowed once – very softly – before turning away. Harness in hand, the Zabrak scooped up his duffel bag and gaffi stick, then walked quickly up the boarding ramp, needing to get away from the animal before his emotions overtook him.

Back onboard, Neyomi and R’ekzi were waiting for him, standing beside the leather bulk. He ignored them, pushing the controls to raise the ramp, then dropping the harness on the floor and walking out of the room briskly, heading to the cockpit. He dumped his bag on the copilot seat and removed the cloak. When he turned back towards the med-bay, he saw Neyomi already standing behind him. Sneaky old wench. She held out her hand.

«I will wash that for you, Bé’Kuvik,» she said casually. «You are getting sand everywhere.»

Maul only grunted in reply, then handed her the hooded cape and headed to where the paralyzed Togruta lay. He felt the need to be near her for some reason. He leaned against the table and observed her quietly. If only she were awake, she could help him figure out…

No. She would never help him. When would he learn, damn it‽ Ahsoka Tano would never be interested in an alliance. She was disdainful and selfish and thought it beneath her to aid a Dark Sider such as himself. How many times had she refused his hand? How many times had he reached for her in vain? That unattainable mote of light, supercilious and pure and –

“Kenobi’s arrogance,” he muttered, pushing himself away from the table in disgust.

“She hasn’t stirred, Lord Kuvik,” R’ekzi said quietly, and it was only until the girl spoke that he realized she had entered the med-bay as well. He was going to have to outfit the two Rodians with bells on their damned feet or something.

“Good,” he growled, walking past the girl. He walked down the hall and opened the first door he came across on the left-hand side. This was that small supply room he had discovered when exploring the ship. Inside, on the shelves, were more of the thick woolen blankets Ahsoka Tano was currently covered in. He took three of them, then made for the rear cargo area once more. R’ekzi followed closely behind.

“Can I help you in any way?” she asked timidly. She was taking her role as a slave rather seriously, Maul observed. Even his Mandalorian Death Watch soldiers had not been so subservient. He got the impression that the young widow was trying to make up for her mother-in-law’s feisty attitude. R’ekzi was likely afraid he would kill Neyomi if she didn’t counterbalance the older female. When he didn’t answer, and just walked back to the leatherbound large bulk instead, she pressed on. “My Lord?”

“No,” he finally replied, squatting down and carefully undoing the long rope he had used to keep the saddle material closed. “Go pester your Nabba.”

«I am right here, Bé’Kuvik,» announced the older Rodian, walking into the room. She had a rag in one hand, and a small bucket in the other. Chaos only knew where she got them from. Apparently the two women had made themselves quite familiar with the shuttle while he was gone. «I have already wiped up the sand you tracked in back there,» she tilted her head to indicate the direction from where she’d come from, «but now I need to clean up here. That includes your legs. You are leaving a trail every time you take a step.» Well, she had certainly gotten over her intimidation due to his cybernetics quickly.

“That can wait,” Maul snapped impatiently. “Leave me so I can deal with this first.”

The matriarch flapped her snout and her antennae twitched irately. «If you keep marching around like that, you will fill this entire room with sand, and my burden will be doubled! Is that so important that you cannot let me finish my task?»

The Zabrak stood up and took one corner of the leather saddle in his hand, then threw it back with flourish, exposing the three mangled corpses. Beside him, R’ekzi shrieked, bringing her hands up to her face and taking several steps back. Maul heard a clatter behind him as Neyomi dropped the bucket in shock. He turned back to the pair and asked wryly, “I do not know, why do you not tell me?”

The two Rodians stared, speechless, their skin growing pale, which made their scales stand out in mottled patches. The scent of reptilian fear pheromones soon reached the Dathomirian.

«What… wh-what is that‽» Neyomi finally stammered, green eyes bright with terror. «Are those bodies‽ What happened to them‽»

«This is what you two will become if you insist on defying my orders!» Maul barked harshly, reaching out a hand quickly as though to grab at them, then making a fist instead. It was a cruel tactic, he knew, but it worked. R’ekzi yelped and ran to her Nabba, who patted her gently and ushered the girl from the room. The Zabrak could hear the young widow sobbing as the two walked away down the hall. Moments later, Neyomi returned, holding her head up defiantly as ever. Her quills, however, were quaking, and she still had quite the salty smell about her. Keeping her wary eyes on him, she picked up the fallen pail and hastily mopped up the water with her rag. Before leaving again, she said to him, «You take carnage with you wherever you go, Kuvik. You should be careful. Soon, there will be no one left for you to hunt.»

Maul looked at her coldly for a second before turning his back on her and focusing on the gore before him. He heard her leave but didn’t pay attention. In the stark fluorescents of the cargo bay, he was able to see the extent of damage in greater detail. The Tusken must have suffered greatly before expiring. In spite of the long trek where they had been dragged for hours through the sands, their bodies were still frozen stiff in the same position as they’d been when he’d found them. That meant their muscles had been clenched tightly in agony during their final moments. It made what was left of his insides writhe in anger and pain, seeing the three proud warriors reduced to those disgusting mutated sculptures. Death, he figured, had been the only mercy shown to them. It was a kindness he vowed he would never show to their aggressors. He would disembowel them and watch them crawl around like maggots. Yes, he would take carnage along with him. Neyomi had no idea.

For now, he carefully extended the woolen blankets over the three Tusken, grunting a quiet funerary prayer at the head of each one before covering them completely. Each one got their own sheet, and he arranged them carefully and respectfully, tucking them beneath each body while trying not to touch the cursed thorns. By the time he got to Q’Rek’rohr, his hands were trembling. He was unsure if it was due to sorrow, anger, or just plain exhaustion. How many brothers had he lost now? Most were gone before he even got to meet them. And just as it had occurred those previous times, the Zabrak had no time to mourn, no time to grasp the entirety of his loss. That would come later, when all was death and quiet. Until then…

«Let our anger burn with the might of the Skybrothers,» he grunted in Tusken, covering the misshapen mess that had once been the face of his student. He got back up to his feet and grabbed the edge of the leather saddle mat, pulling it towards the large freezer unit that was installed beside the loading platform. He hated to treat the bodies as though they were pieces of meat for later consumption, but he had to keep them preserved somehow, at least until he was able to get thorough scans or autopsies done on them.

When he returned to the cockpit moments later, the two Rodian females were sitting in their passenger seats, sullen and silent. As usual, Maul paid them no heed, instead slipping into the captain’s chair, and flipping on the control board, preparing for takeoff. Outside, the sky was still dim, and he wanted to take advantage of the twilit hours as much as he could. Shadows offered secrecy.

However, as the triple engines roared to life, his proximity scanners picked up an object in the way of the shuttle. The Dathomirian frowned, squinting out of the viewing window, trying to make out what it was. He knew he hadn’t landed beside any large boulder that would make liftoff difficult.

It was K’orli. The bantha was braying loudly and lowing – he could see her bleating mouth through the transparisteel even though he couldn’t hear her over the roar of the engines. She was obviously distressed, stomping and tossing her head, her long, furred tail swishing around on the sand. She paced around the shuttle, walking from the front over to the back part, between the two areas where she had seen a ramp lowered. Maul sighed in frustration. Damned animal needed to get out of the way! He would end up hitting her with the hull if she didn’t leave, or maybe roll her with the hot air generated by the engines. Either way, the ship would get damaged, and the cow might die. The cow Q’Rek’rohr had loved so much he had sacrificed his life for. Kark.

Maul stood and, leaving the engines running, returned to the cargo bay. He lowered the large ramp and walked out into the cold predawn, grunting loudly in Tusken, telling the bantha to leave. For his efforts, the animal instead came immediately to him, headbutting his torso anxiously and trying to lick his face. She bellowed and moaned, her eyes wild with terror. She was afraid of the ship, yet would not depart, even after the Zabrak tried to push her away with the Force. This time, she refused to stay back, and stubbornly came to him, seeking the comfort he represented.

Exasperated, the Dark Sider lowered his mental shields fully once more, reached out with his aura and touched the bantha’s Living Force. He sent her the order again: Go! Find your home. Yet the animal only bellowed in protest and stomped her feet. Through the tenuous emotional link which he’d established with her, he sensed her anguish and at last understood the reason for it. She did not want to be parted from her beloved rider. He sighed.

Death! Maul told her. Your rider is dead. Go to his people. They will look after you.

K’orli bleated and swayed, refusing to move. In the end, he hardened his intent and gave the bantha an ultimatum: Go away. Whether to return to your tribe or to seek death so you may join your rider. Away with you… or come with me. Follow into the belly of the unknown and you will never see your tribe again. Choose your path, K’orli, and find your home.

With that, he severed his psychic connection to the beast and walked back up the ramp. He was sure the bantha wouldn’t dare follow: he had sensed her terror of the ship, for she thought it was some type of gigantic monster that had consumed him and her rider. The engines, she believed were its glowing eyes and the sound they made, its thunderous roar. However, the Zabrak hadn’t even reached the top of the platform, than when he was nudged the rest of the way onboard, stumbling forward. Miraculously, K’orli had followed him. She was quaking in fear, but she moved eagerly onward, lowing anxiously. Well, this was something he certainly had not been expecting. Having the bantha along complicated things, but deep down, he was glad to have her company.

After he got her settled in – he moved some metal crates around with the Force to form a type of stabling with them to help the beast feel secure and keep her from trampling about – he at last returned to the cockpit. The two Rodians had been unable to resist their curiosity and had observed his actions with the animal from the entrance to the cargo room. Neither dared question his decision to bring K’orli along, however, merely following him back to the main cabin and taking their seats. With everything finally cleared for takeoff, Maul maneuvered the shuttle around and lifted off. From the rear cargo bay, the bantha bellowed loudly in terror at the unfamiliar motion.

“Lord Kuvik, that animal is frightened,” R’ekzi said, her voice still humbled from their previous interaction.

“I am aware.”

“Can I… would it be alright if I go to it? Perhaps having company will help to soothe it.” She didn’t have to add that she was also uncomfortable being in his presence now and wanted an excuse to get away. He could sense that clearly. He shrugged.

“You may,” he replied curtly, pretending to be engrossed in the navigation panel. “But keep your distance at first until the bantha gets used to your scent. In these parts, the only reptiles around are predatory beasts, and your smell will trigger a defense mechanism.”

“Bantha…” R’ekzi repeated thoughtfully, trying out the word. “Is that its name?”

“That is the species,” Maul replied, then turned to look at her pointedly. “Her name is K’orli.”

R’ekzi looked at him blankly for a few seconds, then blinked. “I… cannot pronounce that,” she said abashedly, and the Zabrak realized he had spoken the animal’s name in the Tusken manner, which to the Rodian must have sounded like a grunting cough.

“You may call her bantha for now; she will understand,” he suggested, turning back to look out the viewing window.

He didn’t speak for the remainder of the trip. It was a short flight, so he and Neyomi didn’t have to put up with the awkward silence for too long. He took them south until he caught sight of a raised ridge. He landed a couple of klicks away from it, keeping a respectful distance. Killing the engines, Maul stood and stretched.

«Come,» he said to the middle-aged Rodian, walking over to the med-bay. He squatted down beside the bundle that was Cebb Nereno. «Did you finish preparing him?» Maul asked Neyomi as she stepped up next to him.

«We did,» she answered, her voice quiet. The Zabrak could see that only her pride was keeping her from breaking down.

«Good,» he stated with a nod. «This is where we will leave him.»

The Rodian looked surprised. «Why here, so far from any sign of life? Is this, then, where we are to live now?»

«No,» he replied as he checked over the tarp to make sure it had been properly sealed and secured. «But if you were expecting a graveyard, on Tatooine, this is as close to one as you are likely to get.» Done with his inspection, the Dathomirian stood, towering above the petite matriarch. «Now, go get your daughter. Find something from wherever you can to cover up with. Leave no part of your skin exposed. And do so quickly; we will be going soon. The morning must not find us here.»

With that, he left her to it while he returned to the cockpit. He opened up the rucksack he’d placed on the copilot’s seat and took out one of his Tusken outfits. By the time he was finished putting on the tunic, short pants, and headscarf, the two Rodian females had dressed as well, presumably from the garments they had brought along. Their colorful hooded ponchos still made them look distinctly foreign, but at least their faces and arms were covered. They’d even put on gloves. Maul nodded his approval while he secured the utility belt over his clothes, making sure all four lightsabers remained in place tightly.

«Are you ready?» he asked them, taking up his gaderffii. The pair nodded. «Lower the front entrance platform and leave it open,» he instructed to the younger female. R’ekzi hurried to obey. While she did that, Maul extended his Living Force over the bundled corpse and levitated it, guiding it before him towards the door. Neyomi followed closely behind him, and together all three left the shuttle. Once outside, the Zabrak took his Tusken weapon to the foot of the ramp, raised it high into the air, then slammed it down into the sand as hard as he could, embedding the curved traang deep into the ground, so only the speared end remained visible. The women stared, obviously puzzled, but said nothing.

«This will keep the natives from attempting to destroy, damage or pilfer anything,» he explained with a shrug. «They know my weapon.»

He didn’t offer further explanation than that. Instead, he walked forward until he was standing directly before the hovering body of Cebb Nereno and extended his arms out beneath it while releasing his Force-hold. The wrapped cadaver landed gracefully in his arms, and the Zabrak brought the boy close up against his torso. He began to walk briskly toward the elevated rim in the distance, the females quietly following.

They walked in silence for the first klick or so, and then Neyomi spoke. «Where are we going? How much further will we walk?»

Maul nodded in the direction of the stone crest. «That formation there is known by the natives as the Hunt’s Rising. It marks the center of a great chasm known as the Wound, which is the natural border between the North and Southern Jundland Wastes. We will put your son to rest there.»

«Why didn’t we land closer?»

“Nabba…” R’ekzi muttered nervously, but Maul did not mind the questions. Talking helped ease the tension that had thickened around them since he’d brought the dead Tusken onboard.

«The Wound is a sacred place,» the Zabrak answered simply. «Had I landed any nearer, the Sand People would have attacked the ship, for they consider the presence of Outlanders blasphemous.»

«These Sand People… they are aggressive?» Neyomi asked. «Are they the ones you killed?»

Maul grunted. He was about to retort with a denial, explaining that he had found the dead Tusken, but he supposed that, yes, he had killed them, in a way. Had they not died for his sake? «They will not attack us, if that is what you fear,» he said instead. «Tusken are mainly diurnal, so should still be resting in their camps. If, by chance, daybreak catches us still in the area, we are covered up enough to where we would not offend those we do come across. In any case, most of the tribes of these parts are familiar with me. They will not interfere with my business.»

«Because they fear you.»

A pause while the Dathomirian considered her words. At last, he nodded. «Because they fear me.»

Neyomi grunted. «With good reason, from what I have seen,» she muttered.

«You should follow their example,» the Zabrak growled, his mood darkening. He was no longer keen on talking. Fortunately, by that point they were quite close to the Hunt’s Rising and could therefore make out the silhouettes of domed tents clustered into small groups. Maul led the females around the campsites and warned them into silence with a hiss, not getting too close so the guard massiffs would not be alerted to their presence by the Rodian’s strong scent.

Soon, they were in the deep shadow of the Hunt’s Rising, and Maul climbed quickly to its top, not waiting for the females or even bothering to check if they were keeping up with him. That violet light on the eastern edge of the horizon was expanding upwards, threatening to blush into the rosy color of a new dawn. They didn’t have much time left.

Upon reaching the summit, the Zabrak looked down into the chasm on the other side of it. The Wound was a magnificent natural wonder, and although he would not venture so far south often, the times he had come to that place had always felt special. It truly was sacred land.

Panting and huffing, the pair of Rodian women clambered up the ridge and moved to stand beside him. After taking a moment to catch their breath, Neyomi whispered, «What now?»

Maul turned to the two and held Cebb Nereno’s body out to them a bit. «Now you say your goodbyes, or whatever it is your people do.»

R’ekzi was sobbing softly at once, reaching over to wrap both arms around her dead brother’s body and burying her face in the leather tarp. The Dark Sider felt a bit strange, as he was still carrying the boy, so that meant the young widow was leaning in close to him as well. It almost felt as though he were sharing an embrace that was clearly not meant for him. The only way for him to get out of it would be to drop the body, but that would only make things even more awkward. Neyomi saved him from further discomfort by approaching next and gently touching R’ekzi’s back. The girl took that as her cue to pull away, allowing the matriarch enough space to bid her final farewell to her youngest son.

The older Rodian placed her slender hand upon the leather covering her child and closed her eyes, murmuring a blessing of departure in her native tongue. Maul felt a knot form in his throat as the head of the Nereno clan asked her son to be strong, to find his brother in the Beyond and at last know peace. The Dark Sider did not believe in the concept of peace, but a part of him wished it were attainable, if at least the illusion of it. There were those who struggled and fought for their entire lives, all for naught. These wretched creatures who were so like him deserved to rest at the end of the arduous journey that was life.

When Neyomi was done, she pressed her tapering snout to the leather, and for the first time since he had met her, Maul saw the Rodian break down. Her shoulders shook and her antennae and quills trembled as the mother finally relinquished her son and stepped away. R’ekzi took the older woman in her arms, and the two stood there, quietly shivering and clutching one another for dear life. Maul adjusted his grip on the boy’s body and stepped over to the edge of the cliff. He stared at the deep gorge below, that empty black abyss that swallowed all. He felt the urge to throw himself into that endless blackness along with Nereno’s corpse.

«According to the Tusken, the Wound has no bottom,» he said solemnly, and the females stifled their sniffling in order to listen. «Legend says that it is a direct entrance into the Spirit Realm, so they bring their most blessed dead and drop them in, allowing them to bypass the Trials of Afterlife and reach the Beyond sooner. Only their wisest chieftains, their most decorated warriors gain this honor. Or, very rarely, a worthy enemy.» He brought his arms down, allowing his Living Force to keep the body aloft once more. «Your son is one of a handful of people who has come close to ending my life. He has earned the privilege of passing through the Wound, for he was far more skilled than any coward the Goa Ato produced. It is a shame he set his sights on what is mine. Had he succeeded in his ploy, I have no doubt that he would have brought Navik to his knees.»

«He will succeed,» Neyomi stated resolutely from behind him, a steely determination hardening her voice. «I will see to it.»

Maul floated the wrapped corpse so that it hovered directly in the middle of the chasm, then let it fall. They never heard an impact.

After a few moments of silence, where only the wind was heard moaning softly in the canyon, the Zabrak took a deep breath and reached out toward the abyss. He’d had an ulterior motive for choosing the Wound as Nereno’s final resting place. It was time to take back what he’d once surrendered.

Although he had been carefully suppressing his Force signature during most of his tenure on Tatooine, now was not the time to be discreet. As his kaiburr had pointed out, he had already been found. Maul fully allowed his tether to the Dark Side to deepen, felt the struggle as he wrestled with the turbulent resistance that was the Cosmic Force. Just as he had done to his crystals, the Dathomirian now took control of the Dark Side energy around him, drawing from the power of all the negative emotions around him: Neyomi’s bitter sorrow, R’ekzi’s fear, even the unease of distant Tusken who had experienced troubled dreams during the night. All of these things, Maul called to him before making them part of his own will. Then, with all of the strength that provided, he called down into the chasm, summoning what he had left there over a decade prior.

There was no response, even after he touched his saberstaff hilt pieces and the kaiburr within added their might to his. Had the Dark Side hunters perhaps beaten him to it? Had they taken his treasure as their own?

No. Like the kaiburr, the item he was seeking was stubborn and malicious. Persuading it – even commanding it – would do no good. He would need to coerce it.

Maul twisted the fingers of his outreached hand into hooked claws, then extended and curled certain digits in a particular order, like a puppeteer manipulating its marionette. The Jedi Order never taught incantations, for they didn’t believe in such tactics. They foolishly thought the Force would act through them in the best possible manner. What idiots. Did they not realize that by treading on the footsteps of others who had come before reinforced the path? How else were roads made in the wilderness, if not by following what others had done previously? Such was the case with spells and magick. The Sith were not the only ones who appreciated this. However, they were the most skilled and knowledgeable in that regard.

“Shokkai, chwûa kintik…” the Nightbrother stated with conviction, the gold of his irises flashing brilliantly with the power of the Dark Side whirling around him. In response, from deep within the Wound, a howling wind started up, as though answering his call. Behind him, the two Rodians gasped and huddled ever closer to one another, while along the scattered campsites, the ruckus of startled massiffs began to rouse the Tusken earlier than usual. Far, far below, much further than should have been possible, Maul felt a darkness stirring. He continued with his chant.

“Noctysska osûjontû! Shokkai, chwûa kintik! Nuya shokkai!”

The howling wind rose to a near-shriek, and deep in the shadow of the ravine, a miniature scarlet dot appeared. Yes! It was still there! The Zabrak repeated the incantation over and over again until the carmine orb began to glow and grow. The sphere of red light grew larger and larger as it ascended from the depths. Finally, it emerged completely from the canyon’s shadow and was hovering in plain sight. Inside the ball of light, a pyramidal shape could be seen, slowly twirling in place. Maul moved his hand, so his palm faced up, then beckoned the Sith holocron to him. “Siqsai, Noctysska osûjontû,” he said, his voice booming through the Force and the gorge. “Nuya siqsai!”

The artefact zoomed over to him and settled on his palm. Maul felt white hot streaks of lightning run up his arm and invade his brain, momentarily blinding him. Oh, the agony of the Dark Side! From the holocron, a cold feminine giggle resounded that only he could hear. The Dathomirian closed his eyes as his fingers curled up around the miniature pyramid, then he brought the object close up to his chest. After allowing his body to adjust to the onslaught of power from the artefact, Maul tucked the holocron into the sporran he still had attached to his belt. The glow ebbed and the howling of the wind died down into an eerie silence. In the campsites dotting the edge of the Wound, startled grunts and cries from the Tusken who witnessed the occurred were hastily choked off, as though the Sand People were afraid that he would turn his attention onto them. They needn’t have worried; he had obtained what he had been looking for.

Maul was exhausted. Such was the price one paid for tapping into the Dark Side using ancient spells. With a heavy sigh, he rolled his shoulders and turned back to the Rodians. «We are leaving,» he said brusquely as he walked past them, heading back down the ridge.

They reached the shuttle just as the sky was turning a rosy pink tinged with gold. Maul recovered his gaderffii while the females boarded, then followed soon after and raised the ramp. He was tired, but eager to get away from the Jundland Wastes. Because he had used such a large amount of Force energy to summon the Sith holocron, he knew that he would become easier to track. The sooner he left the desert planet, the better.

Just inside the entrance, Neyomi was carefully shaking out her poncho into the small bucket she had been carrying around earlier. The sound of sand particles hitting the bottom of the pail was strangely soothing. She had R’ekzi’s colorful garment slung over one of her arms, apparently having made the girl remove it before entering so she wouldn’t track sand all over the place. Maul grunted. The Rodian was in for a rude awakening. There was never a way to fully get rid of the sands of Tatooine. As he walked past her, he purposefully stomped his cybernetic legs, so the fine sediment fell out of all the crevices, leaving a messy trail. He headed for the refresher.

«You are a cruel master, Kuvik!» the matriarch called after him, sounding more annoyed than fearful.

«See to it you never forget!» he hollered back good-naturedly just before the door slid shut behind him. He removed his sporran and placed it on the sink, then stripped down, letting his sand-encrusted garments remain on the floor where they fell. Then he went over and sat down heavily on the commode, although he had little use for one, all things considered. All he actually required was a waste disposal unit, like the ones found in most med-bays. However, he supposed that he would make the Rodians uncomfortable if he fiddled with his innards in front of them. He smirked to remember their awed and terrified expressions when he’d opened up his compartments in the cockpit hours earlier.

The Zabrak pressed the button that opened up his abdominal cavity and reached inside to feel around. Ahsoka Tano was not vain, so the small refresher only had a tiny face mirror over the sink for practical uses, like inspecting one’s teeth after brushing. He wished she had something bigger so he could explore angles of his inner workings that he could not see from his current position. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he reached out with his Living Force and brought the mirror to him. Thankfully, he saw that it had been kept in place by a strong magnet, rather than welded or pasted onto the wall. Holding the looking glass directly before his lower abdomen, Maul was able to finally find what he sought: his waste canisters.

Gingerly, he traced the first connection hose to its corresponding shut-off valve and closed the flow, then repeated the process with the other. Afterwards, he disconnected the hoses and removed his canisters. Even these containment cylinders were different from his previous set, shiny and new, and slightly bigger. He couldn’t find a way to open them, for they had no lid. Instead, they had GSB instructions engraved in tiny Aurebesh characters located beside a small button. According to the message, they required a standard biodegradable medical waste packet to be attached where the hose used to go. One packet should be sufficient for both canisters, it read. Great. Well, he hadn’t explored the T-6 sufficiently enough where he would know where to find such packs. He didn’t even know if Ahsoka Tano carried anything like that aboard at all, even though they were standard issue in most med-bays. Before going all the way back out to check, he decided to look inside the small cabinet located just beneath the sink. Effectively, he found a box of waste packets there. Most ships required that these packets be fitted into the tubing of the actual commodes, and they could be changed out as they filled up, then either ejected into space, or incinerated in the waste disposal unit of the med-bay. Won over by his curiosity, the Zabrak inserted the nozzle of a new packet into the first canister, then pressed the button.

With a small hiss, the cylindrical metal container emptied out its contents into the silver pouch, with the button popping back out on its own when the process was complete. Huh. Interesting. Much less messy than his old phials. He never even saw the half-digested pulp he was used to dealing with before.

In that manner, Maul was able to quickly go through the process with the second canister and replaced them both inside his abdominal compartment. After reconnecting their hoses and opening up the valves again, he placed the waste packet on the floor beside the commode, where it wouldn’t be in the way. He then levitated the sporran from where he’d left it draped over the sink and brought it to him. He took out the holocron and looked it over carefully. At the moment, it was inactive, so the small pyramid lay cold in his hands, yet he could see that it was still in good condition, despite the years it spent abandoned in the Wound. Taking up the mirror again, he pushed the Sith device inside himself, nestling it carefully into the empty space in front of the waste containers. He was especially cautious to not have it disturb the delicate wiring and tubing that ran through everything, instead tucking those in around it. That also served to secure the holocron in place so it wouldn’t move around when he walked. He wanted to make sure no one would be able to take the artefact from him unless he was dead. Satisfied with his handiwork, the Nightbrother finally closed up his prosthetics and left the refresher.

«You left a mess in there, didn’t you?» Neyomi asked crossly when he ran into her in the cockpit.

«Of course,» he replied with a shrug. Then, looking around the room, he asked, «Where is your daughter? Tell her to come back to her seat. We are departing now.»

«R’ekzi is in the cargo bay with that animal. What is it called? The bantha.»

«You two really should learn to pronounce her name. It is K’orli. Make the hard ‘K’ sound as though you have mucus stuck in your throat.»

Neyomi didn’t answer, but her antennae flapped, peeved. She left the cockpit and went down the hallway, calling for her daughter-in-law. The two returned a moment later, with the young widow reporting that the cow was still anxious, but not as terrified as before.

“Maybe you should go to her, Lord Kuvik,” she suggested meekly as she sat down and buckled in, still not daring to meet his eyes since the incident in the cargo bay. “I think your presence placates her.”

“That will have to wait,” Maul grumbled. “She will get used to her new environment eventually. She knows she has no alternative. After all, she made the decision to board the ship.”

«I do not see why you gave your animal such a strange name,» Neyomi interjected while the Zabrak ignited the engines. «It is impossible to pronounce and sounds barbaric!»

“I did not name her,” Maul replied quietly, steering the ship up quickly towards the stratosphere before turning in a wide arc and heading west, escaping the punishing suns. “And it may seem crude to your ears, but to her tribe, it is considered an endearing name. It means ‘Little Blessing’ in the Tusken tongue.”

“Hoo, that is a pretty name!” R’ekzi exclaimed. “It is very sweet. She must be loved.”

Maul thought of Q’Rek’rohr patiently brushing K’orli’s long mane and cleaning her teeth. There was no way to explain to the women how deep the bond was that Um’Ghorfah had with their animals. The only reason he understood it at all was because back on Dathomir, the Nightbrothers had followed a similar tradition. However, Maul did not want to remember his bane back spiderling. Her death still haunted him occasionally: his first great loss. Now, Q’Rek’rohr’s demise would torment him as well.

“She was loved. Still is, I am sure,” he said aloud, although he refused to turn and look at the females. Instead, he kept his attention focused on the navicomp. “Her tribe will miss her very much.”

Once he set the appropriate coordinates, the Zabrak set the shuttle to autopilot. They soon felt a slight shift in pressure as the T-6 broke the sound barrier. From the rear cargo room, K’orli brayed, alarmed. Maul sighed. He supposed he should go tend to the cow. Q’Rek’rohr would have never left her side, but now he was gone, and she had no one.

“I will be with her for a while,” he told the two Rodians as he stood. “The trip should take about four hours, perhaps a bit more. Take some time to rest. Or, better yet, learn the bantha’s name. Practice it. She deserves as much, and in any case, you three will be together for a long time from now on.”

«Kuvik...» Neyomi began to protest.

“Learn it, Neyomi,” Maul cut her off sternly. “It is K’orli. Kguh-orr-lii. You had better be able to recite it when we land.”

R’ekzi quickly interjected, as usual, in order to keep him and her matriarch from growing their argument. “We will do our best, Lord Kuvik,” she said. As he walked out of the cockpit and headed down the corridor, he heard Neyomi grumble (she purposefully did so loudly enough to where he would hear her): «Bah! If I try to make that sound for four hours, I will have coughed up a lung before we land!»

Maul stepped into the cargo bay quietly and let the door slide shut behind him without saying a word. From between her metal crates, the bantha lifted her long tongue and opened her scent spiracles, then lowed softly once she recognized his smell, calling to him. The Zabrak went to her immediately but didn’t remove the heavy boxes from around her. He needed her to stay in place during the entirety of the trip. He climbed over the crates instead, then dropped in beside her. K’orli was instantly nuzzling his torso, doing her best to lick his face. Maul could sense her fear and heartbreak. He helplessly scratched between her horns and spoke to her in Tusken, grunting in deep tones. He too, was unsure of what the immediate future held. He too, was shattered inside.

The cow finally settled herself onto the ground with a huff, and Maul sat down beside her and leaned against her belly. The unborn calf moved beneath its mother’s skin, seeking the pressure of his body, curious. K’orli lowed again and licked at him, wrapping her long tail around him. The Zabrak buried his face in her wool and took a deep breath. Most Near-Humans disliked the odor given off by banthas, for it was strong and overbearing. However, Maul didn’t particularly mind. He’d certainly experienced worse. Over time, he had grown accustomed to the pungent bovine smell of banthas. Sand People and their camps always smelled this way, and at the moment, the Dathomirian reveled in the familiar musk. The cow, too, seemingly appreciated his company, for her breathing steadied, as did her heartbeat. To the sound of  the rumbling engines and the warm breath of the animal, the Zabrak fell asleep.

He awoke on his own a few hours later. The engines were still running, which meant they hadn’t reached their destination yet. Maul stretched and stood, but K’orli remained prone, only snorting quietly when she felt him leave. Poor beast was exhausted.

He returned to the front cabin to find Neyomi and R’ekzi asleep in their seats, curled up uncomfortably. The clothes he had left on the refresher floor had been picked up and washed, then placed on top of the copilot seat beside his rucksack. His gaderffii, too, had been placed on the chair. He folded the headscarf into a tight, neat rectangle and placed it back inside his duffel bag, then took the tunic and pants with him and headed for the refresher again. Just because he didn’t mind K’orli’s odor didn’t mean he wanted to smell like her. He gave the navigational computer display a quick glance and saw that they had about a quarter of an hour before they reached the designated coordinates. That was enough time. He never took long to wash up, not liking to waste even a minute.

After a quick shower, he dressed and rinsed out his mouth, then went to the med-bay to check on the Togruta. Her condition remained the same. A part of him was beginning to get concerned – it would be a cruel twist of fate if her paralysis was permanent, for that would mean that once again, he would be robbed of the chance to take on an old foe – but he knew it was still much too early to tell. R’ekzi had mentioned that the effects of the toxin lasted about two standard days in an adult male. It hadn’t been two days yet, had it? No, not quite. The longer rotation period of Tatooine made him lose track of Galactic Standard Time, but he was pretty certain that scarcely more than a day had gone by since Cebb Nereno injected Lady Tano with the dreadful substance.

When he turned back to the cockpit, he discovered Neyomi sitting up in her seat, looking over at him curiously. It looked as though she were about to say something but thought better of it and instead only shook her head sadly. Just then, the navicomp’s arrival notification chimed, waking R’ekzi, so the Zabrak returned to his seat and took the controls.

They were now on the second quadrant of Tatooine, on the opposite side of the planet. Thus, rather than it being late morning, it was approaching evening once more. Other than that, the terrain looked quite similar as the rest of the karking dust ball. At the foot of some cliffs in the distance, a small cluster of buildings surrounded by a perimeter of synstone walls was visible. The two Rodians stretched their necks in order to peer out the viewing window better.

“Is that your base?” asked R’ekzi in wonder.

Maul grunted. “No,” he replied, maneuvering the ship closer. “That is a town.”

«A town‽» Neyomi exclaimed incredulously. «That hardly qualifies as such! There must be less than twenty buildings down there!»

“Precisely why I chose it,” the Dathomirian replied. “That, and it is quite isolated from other parts of civilization. Only Jawas – one of the two native sentient species here – ever show up occasionally in order to trade with the locals. It does not even have its own starport.”

«Why do you need to stay so far from populated areas? Do you have many enemies?»

“I do have plenty of foes, but I am not the one who needs to keep hidden,” Maul scoffed, landing beyond the outskirts of the small village, just out of sight of the structures and wall. “You do.”

“What do you mean?” asked R’ekzi.

“I do not trust Navik to keep his word,” the Zabrak stated flatly. “The moment he realizes that I am not with you both, he will search for you in order to kill you.”

“You mean… you won’t stay with us? Why?” The girl sounded torn between relief and dismay.

“I just told you: I have several enemies scattered throughout the galaxy.” I don’t need anyone else being put in harm’s way because of me. “I do not need the two of you being a hindrance.” With that, he killed the engines and unbuckled himself. “And do not get any clever ideas,” he snarled, glaring at them as he stood. “Your clan is still my property. All of you. I may not be around constantly, but you are to act as though I am, for you will never know when I am to return. You live at my behest. Now, it is best if you find someplace to stay before nightfall, so grab your things and meet me outside. Use the rear cargo door.”

While the Rodians hurried to obey, Maul turned back to his rucksack. He ended up emptying out most of the contents before he reached the leatherbound pack of dragon scales he had at the bottom. After a moment’s consideration, he also removed the ammunition packs and krayt dragon’s pearl and put them aside. Then, he replaced everything else neatly, being mindful of the alasl bowls. His sturdy gaderffii, he squeezed into the bag, along the side, leaving the traang sticking out of the flap. He had rediscovered Lady Tano’s impervium face cover when he’d moved his duffel bag to remove the contents, and he now placed it carefully on top of the leather sack. Finally, he took up the scales and pearl and headed for the rear cargo bay.

Once in the large room, he at last shifted the metal crates away from K’orli, who had awakened during the landing and was huffing uncomfortably. The moment she was able to move about, she went to the Zabrak and headbutted him affectionately. He scratched her forehead in return, then walked over beside the lowered loading ramp and picked up the bantha’s harness.

“Ru, ru!” he grunted. The animal followed obediently. The instant she was outside on the sandy ground, K’orli lowed, obviously pleased, then trampled around in a circle and swished her long tail. Neyomi and R’ekzi watched her antics with slightly amused and puzzled expressions.

“Have you learned how to pronounce her name yet?” he asked the two. The young widow stepped forward with a nod, her antennae twitching nervously.

“Well, I have practiced to the best of my abilities, Lord Kuvik,” she said shyly. “K’orli.”

She was still having a bit of a problem rolling the “r” sound, but she got close enough to where the beast paused her stomping and turned to look at the Rodian. Maul glanced at the matriarch expectantly. Neyomi sighed, clearly embarrassed. She looked at the ground, then finally crossed her arms in front of her chest and mumbled: “K’orli.”

Her pronunciation was actually a bit better than her daughter-in-law’s, much to Maul’s surprise. The bantha appreciated it, clearly, for she lowed once more in pleasure and took a few cautious steps toward the pair. The Zabrak grunted softly at the animal and led her by a horn to the two females.

“K’orli will be staying in your care,” he told them, his tone solemn. “She is pregnant. You are never to sell her or her calf, regardless of the amount offered to you. You are not to kill her or her offspring for their meat, skin, or bones. Howsoever you choose to lead your lives from this point on, you are to provide them with the best possible life you can offer until they pass of old age. If I ever discover that you have done otherwise, I will make you wish you had remained under Navik’s oppression.”

«There is no need for you to threaten us, Kuvik,» Neyomi retorted. «We know you care greatly for your pet.»

Maul rolled his eyes. “She is not my pet, Nabba,” he grumbled. “She was never anyone’s pet. She had a rider, a partner who dedicated his life to her until the end. He was her family, but now he is gone. By the traditions of the Tusken, she should be left to die. Except that she carries new life, and her rider would have killed anyone who would even dare suggest that she be cast away. Take her with you, care for her, and she in turn will help provide for you. On this planet, bantha dairy products and wool fetch decent prices. She will not stop lactating once her calf is grown if you continue to milk her.” He looked at the animal fondly then leaned his head and scratched his horns against hers. “Watch over her well,” he said sadly, allowing the weight of his misery to sink into his bones for a moment, “for she is all there is left of my hearts.”

He felt a bit silly immediately after and didn’t think the two Nerenos would understand how he could hold a non-sentient creature in such high esteem. However, Neyomi walked up to him and looked up into his eyes with a serious expression, then surprised him by taking one of his hands – the one not busy carrying the remains of the krayt dragon – in both of hers. Maul didn’t really feel comfortable with others touching him, usually, but strangely, the middle-aged matriarch’s slender hands didn’t make him feel awkward as much. «The heart is a fascinating thing,» she told him, pulling his hand forward so she cradled it against her chest. «It can take on so much pain, so many wounds that never heal. They never do. Yet, it also grows. The heart swells so much that the cuts it took on in the past become miniscule, bearable. I do not know what has happened to you in your past, but I do know that someday, your heart will grow beyond the pain and anger you carry, just as mine will grow beyond the death of my youngest son. Able’s death already allowed my heart to double in size, because he did not leave me alone: I gained a daughter. Cebb’s death at your hands earned our freedom. I will at last be free to mourn for my children as I was never allowed to do on Rodia. Do not look at me like that, Bé’Kuvik. This Nabba knows what she speaks of. You are still young. In time, you will learn; you will grow.»

The Zabrak didn’t know what to say to any of that, so he merely shook his head. He didn’t agree with Neyomi at all. What did she know, anyway? And what did she mean, by calling him young? He knew he was older than she was; he had to be! Yet he didn’t jerk his hand away, as he would have in any other instance. What the matriarch offered didn’t feel like compassion or pity, those disgusting things. She merely seemed to be imparting her wisdom onto him, sharing her learned experiences so that he might take note. Once again, Maul was reminded of his own mother.

Abruptly, he shoved the items tucked under his arm to her. When she noticed her matriarch struggling with the weight, R’ekzi walked over and took them from her.

“Lord Kuvik… what is this?” the girl asked in wonder, staring at the smooth, fist-sized sphere atop the leather bundles.

“Krayt dragon pearl,” he muttered with a slight frown. “That is your contingency plan, should your lives ever take a turn for the worse financially.” He sighed before explaining further. “It is extremely rare to find, can only be obtained on this planet, and will fetch a high amount of money. A pearl of this size alone is probably worth more than  the entirety of Mos Doba.”

“Mos Doba?”

“This town.”

“Oh!”

“Use it only as a last resort, for it will also draw a large amount of attention if you try to sell it. The items inside the leather wrap are scales from the same animal. Use those instead. They are also valuable, used as currency, but will not make heads turn as much. Krayt dragons shed their skins every few years, so finding scales buried in the sand or in an abandoned den is not too uncommon. There are enough scales inside that parcel to keep all three of you for a few years if you budget wisely.”

“Th… thank you, Lord Kuvik!”

Maul scoffed. “Do not thank me, kid,” he growled. “This is not charity. I am merely investing in my own stock. I fully expect you both to make good use of all this.” He began to slip the harness on the bantha. There was no saddle anymore, but at least with the leather yoke, the animal would be easier to lead. He doubted she would be as sweet and docile with the Rodians at first as she was with him. He only wished the cow would not become obstinate once she realized he was going to leave her. “One more thing –” he began, but Neyomi cut him off.

«Yes, we will clean up whatever mess the creature made on your ship before we leave,» she said in a chiding manner.

“What?” the Zabrak exclaimed. “No, that is not what I was going to say. Did you bring the firearms with you?”

The Nerenos looked at one another before shaking their heads.

“You will need them,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Mos Doba is a relatively peaceful settlement. Syndicates and slavers do not have a strong presence here because of the town’s small size, as well as its ties to the New Republic. However, you will still be seen as weak, easy pickings. Two females, foreigners who do not know the culture. Once people see you have krayt scales, they may even try to rob you, or take K’orli by force. If anyone threatens the bantha, drop them where they stand. That is a direct command.”

“But…” R’ekzi began nervously, “won’t you need the weapons? You told us you have many enemies!”

Maul grinned. “Do you really believe I need a blaster to kill someone?” He jerked his horned head back up in the direction of the ship. “I do not know where you last left those firearms, so go get them yourselves. That smaller pack I gave you holds projectiles for the cycler rifle. If you run out, you should be able to get more from the Jawas when they make their rounds, although they do not stop by often.”

R’ekzi placed the packs in her arms inside one of her rucksacks, then followed her Nabba back into the ship. In the meantime, Maul lowered his mental shields and connected his aura to K’orli’s once more, possibly for the final time. He projected his intent to her, which made her bray and stomp unhappily. However, he continued to scratch her forehead and speak to her soothingly in Tusken, assuring her that life would be better for her with the two females. He allowed her to feel his sorrow and reluctance to leave her as well, so she could see that he was not doing this to simply get rid of her. He wanted her to understand that he was doing what he thought was best for her, for Q’Rek’rohr’s sake.

Huh. Those Rodians were taking much too long. Did they even remember where they had stowed the weapons away? Somehow, he didn’t think that was the reason for their delay. Sure enough, once they finally descended with firearms in hand, Neyomi informed him rather haughtily that she and her daughter had cleaned up the rear cargo bay so “it should no longer stink like the animal.”

“That is rich, coming from a Rodian,” he grunted.

«What is that supposed to mean‽» the matriarch demanded crossly.

“Can bantha be bathed?” R’ekzi interrupted, trying to placate things, as usual. “I do not know how to look after an animal of this kind at all.”

Maul blinked, taken aback. “Bantha are popular domesticated livestock on Tatooine,” he said at last. “Their feed is readily available in most stores and markets. The Tusken would clean their animals with sand treated with powdered roots and herbs to keep them free of parasites, although the type of plants they used are not easily accessible to settlers. Maybe the Jawas will be able to get you some bantha powder, but they will overcharge you, for sure. I’m sure the locals can offer you advice on how to tend to her, in any case. I would not waste water washing K’orli. I don’t know how it will affect her wool, and water is scarce all over the planet. People will not take kindly to you using it on a cow. Most locals don’t even use water to bathe themselves. Better get used to the smell.”

He looked up at the dimming skyline. “We had better get going,” he said, taking up some of the Rodians’ leather bags from the floor and securing them to the bantha’s harness. R’ekzi took his cue and did the same with the rest of the bags, attaching them to the other side of the beast’s yoke. K’orli allowed the girl close, sticking out her long tongue in order to sniff at her curiously. Maul began to move away, leading K’orli by her harness and walking towards the small town. “Mos Doba closes its gates at the first sunset.”

After they had walked along in comfortable silence for a while, Neyomi spoke up. “Did we land some distance away from this place because those people would also attack your ship?”

“No,” Maul replied. “But they would remember it. And they would remember seeing someone like me. I cannot have either of you linked to me in any way.” He grinned a little. “Also, your GSB is quite good, Neyomi. I am glad you are finally using it.”

“Bah!” the Rodian grunted in annoyance, although the Zabrak could tell she was secretly pleased by the compliment. “It is a clumsy language. Why do you not want those in town to see you, if you claim they are decent folk? Is it to keep us safe?” If she was trying to get under his skin, it was working.

Now it was his turn to scoff. “Do not think so highly of yourself, Nabba,” he grumbled. “Navik knows I took Fulcrum’s ship. It is an older model, from around the time of the Clone Wars. Most outdated shuttles of this type have already been taken out of commission, scrapped for parts by either the Empire or, now, the New Republic. Until I can get something better, I will need to travel around in that vessel. The last thing I need is for my enemies to know what my last known location was.”

“And the New Republic is your enemy?”

“They will be, soon.”

“Why?”

The Zabrak sighed impatiently, rolling his eyes. “You do not get the type of reputation where even warlord dictators fear you by abiding within the parameters of intergalactic law.”

“So, you are a criminal.”

“Depends on which side you ask,” he muttered. “Labels mean nothing to me, anyway. So long as I get what I want.”

“And what is that? What is it that you want?”

“At the moment? I want you to shut up.”

To his surprise, R’ekzi giggled as she walked along on the other side of K’orli. She quickly stifled it out and apologized to her matriarch in Rodese, although Maul didn’t think the girl sounded genuinely sorry.

Soon, the ground began to slope up towards the canyons. Maul stopped and patted the bantha’s shoulder, then turned back. “Just beyond this ridge, you will see the walls of Mos Doba,” he called over his shoulder with a wave of his hand. “Do what you will with your lives, so long as you abide by what I told you regarding K’orli and her offspring. I will find out if you do not.”

“What‽ Are you leaving, just like that‽” Neyomi sounded truly shocked. Perhaps she had been thinking he would accompany them longer, although he had made it perfectly clear that he would not venture into town. What a delusional wench.

“Yes, just like that.” He kept walking and didn’t turn back, even after K’orli lowed sadly.

He had scarcely walked a few meters, than he heard R’ekzi call after him: “Do not worry, Lord Kuvik! We will live good lives, all of us!”

Hah, as though he would worry about some useless smelly reptilians who couldn’t even use the Force! He would have yelled back as much, too, if his pharynx wasn’t suddenly closing up on him. Maul cleared his throat. Damn arid climate! He was not going to miss this planet, or the trio he had just parted ways with. No, he had much more important things to deal with than dwell on mawkishness.

For one, it appeared as though Lady Vengeance was alive and well, after all. She was waiting for his next move. True, she did not have the same youthful allure as before, but what she had lost in glamour, she had gained in patience and cunning. Ah, yes… The three Dark Side acolytes who hunted him would find more than they had bargained for. He would exchange this gentle trio for that one which sought him. The anticipation made his empty hearts patter. What fun he would have…!

But first… there was still something to do before he could set any plan in motion. Someone he needed out of the way.

There was still the faint scent of Rodian pheromones lingering in the air when he boarded the shuttle. K’orli’s heady musk, the two females had managed to get rid of. A part of him wished they hadn’t. He adjusted the metal crates up along the wall using the Force, then brought up the loading ramp and went back to the cabin. He wasted no time starting up the ship and flying off. He headed west, chasing the setting suns. Ironically, that meant he ended up in the Eastern Dune Sea, although he landed just at its borders. He wasn’t trying to get back into the first quadrant of the planet. This area was quite secluded: much more so than even the Jundland Wastes. Maul had spent years on the desert world and had therefore explored nearly the entire dustball. Although he had travelled a couple of hundred klicks westward, Mos Doba still remained the nearest settlement in the vast area. He hoped the Nerenos would fare better in their new lives than he had in his so far.

Ugh. Why was he even thinking about those two? No, no, that wouldn’t do. He landed in a relatively flat area of terrain, with gently sloping hills of sand rolling out endlessly in the distance. Beyond those dunes, was a raised ridge, and after that, some caves. Inside those were some ancient ruins which he had come across years back. From what he had deduced, they were tens of thousands of years old, built by the long-defunct Infinite Empire. Heh. Not so infinite, he supposed. Now, the once-mighty structures were little more than shattered pillars and crumbled pieces of stone. Still, they contained a dark power about them, and it infected the entire area. Maul had theorized that this was the reason why no one ever settled the area of the far Eastern Dune Sea. For the moment, that meant it was an excellent place to hide his aura among the shadows of the Dark Side.

He spent the hours of growing dusk wandering about the sands, gathering what small pieces of dried wood and shrub he could. He found a tumbleweed which he kept for kindling, then discovered a small valley nestled between tall dunes in which to build his bonfire. He carefully arranged the wood and brush; then, before igniting it, headed back toward the T-6, which was just on the other side of the tallest of the dunes to the north. Nighttime was quickly approaching, and with that, came the cold. Not that he minded all that much, but he had gotten so accustomed to wearing several layers of clothing, as the Tusken did, that he felt awkward and uncomfortable without a robe now. Exposed. So, he returned to the cockpit, grabbed a cloak from his duffel bag, and walked back out into the growing gloom, pulling on his tunic’s hood as he made his way back to his small mound of tinder. He used Lady Tano’s shoto lightsaber to ignite the brushwood, then slowly nursed it by adding bits of the tumbleweed. The bonfire grew in strength and size just in time for night to fully fall upon the desertscape.

He idly picked up the Togruta’s small silver saber hilt from his lap and looked it over in the flickering light. It was good craftsmanship: delicate, yet sturdy. Minimal embellishment, with just enough of a design to denote elegance. The grip had been rubbed smooth and shiny in places where the half-Jedi’s hands fit snugly. Running his fingers over the hilt made an ache start up in his chest. Whenever Ahsoka Tano came into his life, she always flipped everything on its head, ruined his plans, destroyed his existence. Ah, he had truly missed her.

Master…

Ugh. What do you want?

This is not about what WE want. You need to ask YOURSELF that question and think for a moment before answering.

Shove off.

You do not plan on killing her, do you?

What is it to you, bastards?

Do not waver in your convictions now. You MUST kill the Togruta!

Shove. Off.

You already came so close to losing the right to claim her life because of your hesitation! Do not squander this second opportunity!

She IS beautiful, isn’t she?

What?

Her beauty. It draws you in. I can sense it. You would not be the first Sith to be swayed in this manner. My master, too, held one in high regard because of her allure. And she was beautiful, as well. But remember this: beauty is effervescent. It fades with time. And only weak creatures are beautiful, for they have not been tempered by pain and suffering. This Jedi will be your undoing if you are not careful. My master understood the dangers of beauty. The distraction and attachment it caused. He broke his chains. So, too, should you.

Perhaps all those years you spent in isolation caused hairline fissures in your structure, idiot. You are insane. I am not attached to Ahsoka Tano.

Aren’t you?

Are you not?

Then prove it.

Kill her!

Silence!

The Zabrak closed his fist around the shortened saber hilt, and he shut his eyes tightly, but that did nothing to lessen the dreadful whispers of the kaiburr in his head. The crux of it all was that the sinister crystals were right. Not in the inane insinuation that he was somehow fond of Lady Tano, but rather in that he wasn’t set in his intent to kill her. In the beginning, he had been. He had spent hours agonizing near death due to her actions, and in that time had dredged up all the bitter feelings she inspired in him. But when her comportment towards him had changed, he had found it all too easy and comfortable to let those negative emotions go. Subconsciously, he rubbed at his forearm – the same arm the Togruta had bit and made bleed. Yet it was not this sensation he remembered at the moment. Rather, it was the firm pressure of her hand as she gently squeezed his arm in reassurance. “You and these blasted crystals aren’t going anywhere but with me,” she had said, and his black hearts had swelled with something approaching pride. Because she was like him, he knew, had recognized it from the moment he’d met her, and it was this kinship that bound him to her, made him desire to be by her side in whatever capacity. He knew it would never be as friends, so as foes worked just as well for him.

You will never be able to defeat what has come if she lives, my Master. Always, she will be in your way. She will try and stop you. Get rid of her now!

Did I not just tell you to shut up‽

Do you plan on leaving her here, in the desert? She will find a way off this planet. Then, just when you need the interference the least, she will show up and insert herself into your business once more. Only this time, if she becomes involved in what we are to embark upon, she will not survive. If you refuse to take her life now, she WILL die nonetheless at the hands of these shadowed usurpers.

Usurpers?

You know what they are. The message was clear.

One Immortal Emperor? This is who we face off against?

Come now, Master. You are smarter than this.

Hm… Maul leaned back on the sand and looked up at the sky, thoughtful. Rakata had many meanings. Aside from the literal translation, which interpretation made most sense? The clue was in the last phrase: “WUN DARR TAH.” One immortal being? Hardly. If he broke down each individual word and translated them without the grammatical context that they formed together… Fist. Victory. Death. One. Conquest. Two. The fist conquers death. One defeats two?

Oh, kark.

“This is a call to war,” the Dathomirian breathed, eyes growing wide. “The message was not left by a Sith adherent, or anyone who followed that philosophy in modern times. These are… Dark Jedi!”

Indeed. Ancient words from an ancient civilization that crumbled away for good reason.

They set themselves against the Rule of Two, against the Rule of Bane.

One defeats Two. Victory through conquest and death of one’s enemies. ONE’s enemies. They want to destroy the Sith and return to the time when the Dark Jedi gave rise to an empire. A new emperor.

It was simply too much. Maul brought his legs up and slouched forward, draping his forearms over his knees. He then put his head down on his arms and laughed. It began as a soft chuckle, then grew in intensity until he was cackling at the absurdity of it all.

You are the last of the Banites. The only one who can oppose them fully.

“Now why,” he asked aloud, “would I ever want to do that?”

For once, the kaiburr were silent. After what seemed an eternity, one of the crystals spoke to his mind:

You have witnessed what they are capable of. To find you.

And for that, I plan on making them pay. But I have no reason to detain this larger dark cult from rising from the ashes of the Empire. The chaos they will bring to the galaxy will serve my purposes.

Even as they begin to spread these thorns…?

They know not what powers they are meddling with.

Now it was the Zabrak’s turn to remain silent. Ah, yes. Those pesky things. They had almost slipped his mind.

It has begun, my Master. Just as you foresaw.

You know what approaches.

You have known since you were but a small boy, carelessly wandering the wilderness of Dathomir.

Maul raised his head, resting his chin on his forearms. An old feeling of dread crept up his spine, oozing into his chest and pooling in what was left of his innards. Oh, how he remembered that vision…! He had forgotten much of his early childhood on his motherworld, but this one memory had stubbornly remained. That nightmare that had haunted his dreams, plagued him interminably, incessantly, night after night, despite his mother’s best efforts of casting it away with potions she made him drink and spells she cast over him. One day, the dream had simply stopped, only for him to show up and spirit him away from his home, never to return. Sidious had changed everything, and Maul had never deciphered what that vision had meant. Until he had seen the exact sight again when he beheld the torture of the three Tusken.

You know what this all means.

You know what is to come.

“The end of the Force,” the Nightbrother whispered with a shudder, huddling into himself.

He remembered his frustration at being unable to move the three felled warriors, that feeling of helplessness that came over him when his Living Force did nothing, had no effect. Those thorns were unnatural, foreign, and only a taste of what would soon befall the entire galaxy.

The Jedi misread their prophecy. The Chosen One was no savior, but rather a harbinger of a new era that should never have been allowed to come about!

The Force STRIVES for balance. Do you know why?

Because the Force is chaos. The Force is turmoil and strife. It is eternal struggle.

And so it must remain, for the moment balance arrives, all will stagnate. Peace is a lie! It weakens the Cosmic Force, as all lose purpose. And now, since balance has been achieved…

All that is left is the Abyss, the Void, the Lack. The end of the Force.

It is too late for the galaxy, too late for your Jedi. She will be swallowed whole by the maw of oblivion along with every other Force user in existence. Her agony will be never-ending. Kill her!

Kill her in mercy, if you must. As you once did for the Nautolan girl. Kill her now, or witness her suffering in the future that is to come. You cannot save yourself from the destiny of torment that awaits you, but perhaps you can spare her. If you hold her in any worth as a foe, end her affliction before it begins.

She has not been trained in the art of pain. She will not be able to withstand the coming torture the way you can.

Maul gripped at his skull, digging his fingers into the sensitive scalp around the base of his horns. Beyond the awful whispers of his kaiburr, he registered something else: a soft, harmonious buzzing, like a hum. It was coming from the lightsaber hilt still in his lap and the other longer one attached to his utility belt on his left hip. Ahsoka Tano’s crystals were vibrating gently, as though trying to console him. He didn’t need to hear it. He didn’t need any of it. Not these purified crystals, and certainly not his bled kaiburr. “SHUT UP!!!” he roared, eyes squeezed shut. “To chaos with all of you!”

With a hiss, he pulled his Living Force into himself, muting his connection to the cosmic thread that united all life. It was never a comfortable thing to do, and it was difficult for him to maintain for long periods of time, but he knew no other way to get his kaiburr to be silent. He needed them out of his psyche, needed a clear head. He would have to decide what to do with Ahsoka Tano for himself and would need to do it soon.

Once more, he reminded himself of all the times she had opposed him, had slighted him, hurt his pride. The kaiburr were right, of course. He should kill her. It was what she deserved. She was a complication he did not need at the moment. He almost flung the shoto saber into the fire in disgust, but instead he grabbed it and clipped it back onto his belt.

Onto the subject of complications, why did the blasted kaiburr have to bring up Kilindi‽ Hers hadn’t been a mercy killing, although in the years immediately following, he would convince himself that it had been. Had he refused to take her life, he reasoned, she would have met a far worse fate. However, the truth was that he had killed his best friend because he had been ordered to by his master, and at that time, a command from Sidious had been all that was required for him to follow without hesitation. So blind was his loyalty to his master, so desperate his devotion. He had been so ignorant, such a fool. Now, the Sith crystals were trying to warp his old sentiments and perceptions in order to draw a parallel between the past and present situations, but he would not have it. There was simply nothing to compare between the Nautolan and the Togruta.

For one, Kilindi Matako had actually been his friend – his first true friend, and certainly, the dearest one. Even so many decades after her death, he occasionally revisited the memories of his time with her, Icarus, and Daleen at Orsis. She represented a time in his life when, despite the harsh upbringing and crippling demands placed upon him by his master, Maul had discovered the wonders of youthful bonding. True, it was all stripped away before long – as everything else Sidious had a hand in – but the Zabrak cherished those moments well into adulthood, nursing the broken friendship in his mind despite the sorrow and guilt it caused him to remember.

Ahsoka Tano, on the other hand, had never been his friend. He hadn’t even been looking for amity when he had first come across her. The Dark Sider had simply felt doom approaching and been desperate to circumvent it. Yet something changed after he met her through the mind’s eye of the clone lieutenant he had captured. Aside from recognizing her potential as an ally in the Force, he had seen another castaway, another left by the wayside of destiny. She had been instantly cemented in his psyche as more than what mere camaraderie could provide. No, she was not his friend. She was his equal.

There had been another: a honey-skinned and golden-eyed boy, who in his youth had taught him to feel sympathy for someone outside himself, yet it was in Kilindi that he first recognized the sentiment for what it was. Never before had he felt indignant for the sake of someone else until he saw her eyes flash in pained anger at being mocked. He had never so fiercely desired to protect someone until he saw the jagged scars crisscrossing her back, ruining her smooth amphibious skin. Sidious may have taught him how to be strong and survive, but together with the little brother he only ever met in his psyche, Kilindi Matako had taught him how to live and, yes, care. He would have never recognized his kinship to Lady Tano if the Nautolan slave girl had not entered his life.

Yet when he had tentatively offered everything which he had learned from Kilindi in that outstretched hand, the former Padawan did worse than slap it away: she accepted. For a few fleeting seconds, the cursed brat had allowed him to feel the warmth and calm of her alliance. Then, she had snatched it all away again, leaving him floundering, alone.

Chaos take him, he wanted to hate her so much! But it was impossible, he realized. He had been damned from the moment he had looked into her eyes all those years ago, on Mandalore. Because in them, he had seen himself, what he perhaps could have been, had his life gone differently. She was so fierce and determined, yet there was a vulnerability to her, a vestigial frailty left over from a troubled childhood that had been cut short before its time. Yet, in spite of her past suffering, her aura remained so bright and pure, it was almost painful to look at. He had been sucked into the deep blue of her orbs, as though the very Force itself resided within, calling him home.

Only he had no home. It was all a lie.

He had thought he could help bring about a new order and stand proudly at his master’s side, but instead, he had been used and discarded.

He had thought he could build his own empire in the criminal world alongside his brother, with their mother to guide them, but both his kin – and with them, all that was left of his culture – were lost in the power struggle against the Sith.

He had believed in the young Togruta child soldier, hoped audaciously that she would stand by him, aid him. Together, he had been so certain they could have conquered anything. Yet three times she had refused him, turned him away like a mongrel, unworthy of even the tiniest sliver of pity. “I am not rooting for you,” she had told him disdainfully, and those words had cut him far more than he would ever admit.

Later on in life, he had thought he could absorb arcane knowledge, steal from the Sith as they had from him, and use what he learned against them. Instead, he had ended up stranded and lost for years on Malachor, only just clawing his way out of those ruins by the untimely arrival of the trio of Light Side adherents… including her. Lady Tano. Oh, his lovely, reluctant muse…! The more she spurned him, the more she spurred him on, driving him to better himself so he might one day crush her. After their battle, when he had felt her essence disappear… he had felt both liberated and forsaken. But even from that last blow she dealt him by vanishing, he had moved on.

He had shifted his attention onto Ezra Bridger, the young, hot-headed, naïve teenager accompanying Tano and Jarrus at the Sith temple. In the boy, he had sensed potential, and since he had been unable to sway Ahsoka Tano to his cause years before, he thought perhaps he would fare better with the child from Lothal. He didn’t view Ezra as an equal, but perhaps that had been his mistake in setting his sights on the Togruta: if he could mold the boy, he might not gain a powerful ally, but rather an apprentice.

Only he had failed in that, too. No one wanted him. Not those of the Dark Side, like his master; not adherents of the Light, such as Ezra and Lady Tano. It was part of the reason he had shut it all out after his brief non-duel with Kenobi. He had grown tired of the Force manipulating and ejecting him in equal measures. If the old Jedi Master’s destiny was to bring about the end of the Sith, let him do so. Let the Sith end and the Jedi fade into nothing. Let it all crumble to dust while he lived out the rest of his meaningless life scrounging a meager existence for himself, but at least in the company of other half-civilized, barbaric people who didn’t spit upon his countenance.

But now, it was all eroding away. The Force was fading. Maul just hadn’t expected that it would occur while he yet lived. He certainly hadn’t ever dreamed it would bring ruin to the primitive people who had taken him in. Curse the Force! Curse it over a thousand times! Why couldn’t it let him be‽ Why, oh why had she shown up to mark the end of everything‽ The Dark Side was having one last laugh at his expense. His magnificent Lady of Light, so cold, so cruel, so pure and strong and… wrong as ever! She had awakened the bled kaiburr, and in doing so, brought their curse down upon those who deserved it the least. He had tried to forget the Sith he used to be, but she had arrived to remind him that he was still a tainted beast of the shadows, undeserving of any kindness. By the Fanged God, he so desperately wanted to hate her!

Maul wasn’t sure how much time passed in this manner, with him stewing in his own dark thoughts. There was no hope, no hope left at all, for hope was for the ignorant, the unknowing. Unfortunately for him, he had been born with the malison of foresight. His premonitions and precognitions were never off their mark. He had wanted nothing to do with the Force anymore, but one could not outrun something that existed all around infinitely. But now that the Force was losing its potency in the galaxy, the Zabrak felt desolate and barren, rather than the elation he figured he should feel. The thought of Ahsoka Tano losing her power in the Light as the all-encompassing darkness loomed in the horizon flitted across his mind, and he shuddered. She would try to fight what approached, they all would, but in the end, they would fail, and they would suffer. The kaiburr were right in that regard, at least. She would suffer so much.

Well, it was what she deserved, right? To chaos with the Force, so to chaos with her, too, hm? As he stared intently at the flames before him, he caught sight of a bluish flicker out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t bother turning to look at Kenobi. Karking old git could shove himself back into the Nether. He was sure the apparition would be just as apprehensive as he had seemed recently. Huh. Ahsoka Tano had implied that it was Kenobi who had urged her to go to Tatooine and find the kaiburr. Even from wherever he was at, the blasted Jedi was still trying to meddle in things that did not concern him. Maul’s misery seemed to begin and end with Kenobi and his lovely grand-Padawan. That entire lineage was the bane of his existence. Maul focused further until his Living Force was completely severed from his surroundings, and the eerie blue light faded from his perception. Kenobi was gone. Good riddance to that.

He thought of Q’Rek’rohr’s grunting laughter whenever the Tusken made his little jokes, teasing the Nightbrother. Then, the sound warped into an endless guttural howl of pain as the young warrior was tortured to death. Those thorns afflicting the O’Tal had been meant for him, instead – he knew it. These dark acolytes had been tracking him for years. Maul recognized those mismatched orbs K’orli had seen; they had peered at him from his own inner darkness. However, he was sure that they were only able to find him now because of the awakening of the kaiburr. And who had stirred them from their dormancy? Who had set everything in motion?

The soft crunch of footsteps on sand made him glance up. Ah, there she was. Her silhouette was stark against the light of the three moons as Ahsoka Tano paused at the top of the tallest sandbank. Holy Ones of Mortis – she was beautiful. He would never be able to strike her down. Not on his own. He idly ran his fingers over his severed weapon, then brought his hands forward to clasp them together tightly in order to keep them from trembling. Already, as she approached him cautiously, he could feel himself falling apart. He averted his stare from her advancing form and glowered resolutely into the bonfire. Of two things he was certain: one of them would not survive this night. Neither would survive the plague that was to come.

“Maul?” Her voice was quiet, tentative. He did not want to look at her. Still, if this was to be the last moments they spent together, he would make the battle count. He would kill Ahsoka Tano, then raze entire star systems to decimate the threat that loomed. He did not think he could win, in the end, but he would give them one hell of a fight. At the very least, he would destroy the three messengers who had answered the call of the kaiburr.

The Zabrak at last raised his gaze and glared up at the Togruta. One final dance, my Lady. There was something oddly comforting in that thought. He allowed his aura to briefly flicker into the Cosmic Force in order to sense hers. Then, speaking to fate as much as to the half-Jedi before him, he growled, “You certainly took your time.”