III: Korriban

Enough money had been siphoned from her parents’ accounts so that she could live easy for at least a year.  Then she would have to figure out what to do to draw in a steady stream of credits.  For now, Saffra was content to spend indiscriminately and do whatever she wanted to do with no one holding her back and telling her to moderate herself.

She gambled at the most expensive casinos she could find and bought whatever caught her eye.  She also indulged in whatever drink appeared to be the most pricey on wine lists at restaurants and bars.  Seeing that she didn’t have to uphold a certain face for Heyx or her parents, and that she was no longer—and would never—be with child, she downed as much liquor as she could hold.  It helped to assuage the ache of betrayal and loss that still enveloped her.  It also made her feel really good for a while, until she passed out and woke up a quivering mess, crawling her way to the refresher to empty her guts and curl up on the cold floor for several hours.

Saffra had managed to make her way back to the lavish bed after the hangover’s hold lessened, burrowing her head into one of the thick pillows and riding out the rest of the uncomfortable symptoms of excess drinking for the better part of the day.  She had one eye on the far side of the room where the blinds didn’t quite keep out the light that felt as if it was stabbing needles into the back of her head.

She had some thinking to do.  

Her funds were quickly diminishing.  Authorities on Anzat were on a manhunt for whoever had killed her parents.  The staff were the first suspects of course, but evidence would point to her soon.  Well, she was safely tucked away in the Outer Rim on a Hutt-run world; nobody would be looking for her there, so she was shielded from repercussions for now.  

That still left the problem of money.  

Saffra had sold a good deal of her wardrobe and jewelry already.  She was down to a handful of clothes that would grow lesser if she couldn’t figure out something quick.  She knew she wouldn’t stoop to go crawling back to Heyx.  He could bork himself for all she cared.

Her fingers petted at the soft sheets as she watched dust motes dance in thin shafts of light from the slatted blinds, staring past the mess of hair tousled on her head.

There was another option.  She had been considering it for a while now.  When she wasn’t partying and reveling in her freedom, Saffra had been doing some digging into Force sensitives, particularly Sith.  It was rumored that there were still some living on Korriban.  With the strength she has sapped from both of her parents, she calculated she was strong enough to confront one or two, challenge them to a fight and go out with a bang.  It was better than drinking herself to oblivion or winding up a vagrant in the gutters.

No one would care if she suddenly and permanently disappeared.  Her sister was too preoccupied with her family.  Her parents were dead by her own hands.  Her former husband was probably already cozying up to another woman who would do a better job at being his perfect wife.  It had been fun being free for a while, but she was only reminded again and again that nobody was there for her.  She could try to find a man who might love her, but at this point she was convinced she would inevitably be twisted and used to suit his needs, whatever those might be.  She didn’t want another fancy collar around her neck for the rest of her life.

Saffra swallowed past a thick lump in her throat, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes.  She had done a lot of crying while recovering from her wild nights.

It was probably a stupid way to go, but she preferred a fight over simply putting a blaster to her forehead or leaping off a cliff.  She would give herself two more days, then she would find a way to Korriban and be done with it.

—

Even before she set foot on the planet, Saffra could tell it was a dark place in the Force. She had the droid that had piloted her around from Anzat to the farthest corners of the civilized galaxy set her small ship on the outskirts of what looked to be The Valley of the Dark Lords.  At least, she guessed it was that based on the information she had scrounged.  Everything seemed to be dead and abandoned, but she could sense strong presences that said otherwise.  

Saffra lurched up from her seat, steadying herself with a hand on a bulkhead before making her way to the ramp.  Some “liquid courage” had been administered during the trip, leaving her feeling bolder than she would have on her own, but also tipsy.  The droid, a silver thing that was designed to appear pleasing to the eye, regarded her with a tilt of the head.

“How long will you be, Mistress?  If I might be so bold, this planet does not appear very safe.”

“I’ll be fine,” Saffra lied. “But if I’m not back within the hour, leave.  Don’t return.”

The droid’s photoreceptors stared back at her for a few long moments before it dipped its head, settling back in the pilot’s seat.  Saffra smacked the button to lower the ramp, moving down it at a halting pace.  She didn’t want to fall off the edge and make a fool of herself for the residents of the world she knew were more than likely watching.

Her path was a weaving one as she wandered further into the Valley, ominous statues weathered by centuries hunching over her from either side.  Buildings with harsh, geometric shapes stood strong, albeit empty.  Saffra stopped in front of one that looked to be more important than the rest, tottering slightly in place before swinging about to face another statue that glared at her.  She tilted her head to the side and sneered back at it.

“Don’t tell me you’re all dead,” she sniffed, then raised her voice. “Or are you all too cowardly to face me?”

There was no response, no shifting in the shadows as her voice echoed in the dead city.  Saffra steadied herself, planting her feet far apart before lifting her hands, calling upon the Force to wrench at the massive statue and cause it to topple over as she threw her hands down.  Hairline cracks formed in the statue before it slammed to the ground, breaking up in fragments and creating dust clouds.  Saffra waited for someone to emerge and retaliate against her for desecrating hallowed grounds.  When no one was forthcoming, she moved onto the next statue, felling that one too.

She managed to work up a slight sweat with the second statue, it being bigger than the first.  While she panted and did her best to remain upright, a chill went down her spine.  She heard the voice before she sensed the speaker.  The voice was one that belonged to someone who was used to commanding people, with a trickle of amusement intermixed.

“You do realize that it’s rude to go stomping around a person’s home and destroying their belongings, don’t you?”

Saffra whirled to face the speaker, finding an Arkanian man in dark robes, face covered in tattoos standing not but a few feet away.  She tripped backwards.  She hadn’t expected for the Sith to manifest himself seemingly out of nowhere.  The man cocked his head to the side with a wry smile.

“Are you quite done?”

Saffra didn’t like his tone.  It smacked too much of her father.  Baring her teeth with a snarl, she threw her arms out at him to Force push him into one of the somber statues at his back.  The man remained rooted to the spot, his robes flapping in the telekinetic wind.  Saffra’s stance crumbled slightly when she saw that she hadn’t even budged him an inch.  The Sith blinked at her with his white on white eyes, then lifted a hand.

    With a flinch, she expected him to unleash his own display of the Force on her, but instead of finding herself flying through the air, she saw movement all around.  Saffra staggered in a wobbling circle as she saw several other Sith of varying shapes and sizes emerge.  

    “She’s rather strong in the Force,” remarked a red-skinned Togruta woman who looked to be nearing middle age.  The lines on her face said she didn’t smile all that much.

    “Anzati,” a Shistavanen with white fur growled. “Don’t trust ‘em.  We should kill her before she tries sucking our brains out.”

    “She’s not experienced enough to get away with that,” a Chagrian chuckled.

Saffra couldn’t tell if she was trembling from fear, rage, or the alcohol she had consumed.  She felt her fingernails pressing into her palms so hard she was sure that she was drawing blood as she looked between the speakers.  There they went again, dictating her life for her.

    “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” she barked.

The Sith collectively glanced at her before resuming their conversation.

“Lord Kamak,” the Togruta mused, turning her steely eyes towards the Arkanian. “We should be done with her.  She’s of no use to us.”

The Arkanian was rubbing his chin, eyes hooded, not watching Saffra.  She picked out one of the bigger shards from the second fallen statue, focusing hard on it.

“I suppose–”

Saffra Force threw the shard at the Arkanian, the one who seemed to be in charge.  If she could take him out, she’d at least have the recognition of having killed a Sith Lord.  The shard sailed directly for his head before it came to a halt inches away, dust sifting off.  When Saffra pulled her focus away from the shard, she saw the man’s white eyes staring at her past it.  She wobbled then lunged at him, veering hard sideways and overcorrecting as she ran at him, intent on drawing whatever Soup out of his head she could get at before she would be killed in the act.  He raised a hand casually.

The Sith Lord hurled her with such a force that her body snapped back like a limp doll.  Saffra hit the wall of the building she had previously been looking over, feeling it splinter behind her before she slid down and thumped onto the ground.  Her brain felt like it was rattling within her skull even after she landed.  She struggled to get herself to her feet, sweeping an arm out to push back at her opponents.  A few grunted as they were caught in the Force wave that arced out from her.  One managed to dodge it, planting himself firmly in the ground and letting the wave roll past him, coming straight at her.  It had to be the Sith Lord.

Saffra clawed her nails into the dirt, running on all fours, trying to get to her feet.  She felt like an animal cornered in a trap.  Something knocked her flat onto her stomach, teeth cracking together as her jaw bounced off the ground.  She scrambled once more to escape, limbs flailing when she was hoisted up in the air without a hand touching her body.  An invisible grip clenched around her neck.  Saffra’s hands went to her throat as she tried to breathe.

The Arkanian had a hand held out, his fingers formed into a claw that he turned over so that Saffra faced him as she struggled in the air, feet kicking at nothing.  He was watching her the way a scientist might look at a specimen on a slide.

“Now that,” he said with a little click of the tongue. “Was very foolish, Little One.”

The rest of the Sith converged around him.  Saffra couldn’t help but compare them to students while a teacher put a subject on display for dissection.  Well, stang.  Hopefully they would make it quick and not draw it out longer than need be.

    “If you will allow me, I’ll do the honors,” the Shistavanen volunteered.

As she choked, Saffra felt tears spilling out.  She would have preferred to die defiantly with a cold glare at her killers.  A combination of depression and too much booze in her system arrested those plans.  Instead, she tried to fix the Sith Lord with a pleading expression.  

    Make it quick.  End the suffering.

He tilted his head back with an intrigued lift of his brows.

    “Ah.  Interesting.”

He made a motion with his hand, dropping Saffra.  She was unconscious before she touched the ground.

—

    Saffra didn’t expect to awaken.  She had thought she had gone on to an eternal sleep when she had kicked the nest of Sith.  Her head still rang, her body felt battered, but she was alive.  Part of her was glad for it.  She cracked open her eyes, trying to lift her head.  The ringing and aching grew worse.  She was able to glimpse a room hewn from rock, orbs casting yellow, dim lighting.

    “I wouldn’t move if I were you,” said an unfamiliar voice.  It sounded like a woman who had to be a hundred years old, or more.  A palm gently eased her head back down on a firm pillow. “Rest.”

    The voice grew muffled as the speaker turned away.

“Send for Lord Kamak,” it said.

    Saffra tried opening her eyes again, found it too difficult.

“Where–am I?” she asked, her voice a croak.

    “Safe,” the voice said. “For now.”

There was shuffling, more low voices, footsteps in the room.  Saffra squinted to the side.  The hooded speaker who had been tending to her stood up and moved back, allowing for a taller individual to take her place.  The newcomer had pale skin, white hair and eyes.  Lord Kamak.

    “You didn’t kill me,” Saffra said.

Lord Kamak smiled.  His face looked surprisingly pleasant when he did so.  He sat himself by her cot with a fluid movement.

    “You have potential.  I don’t go striking down people who are strong in the Force and can have that strength forged.”

    “I tried to kill you,” she countered.

“Yes,” Lord Kamak agreed. “It was clumsy and predictable.  You would have never succeeded, but you have the makings of a good Sith.”

    He tapped a finger on her collarbone.

“Not only with the amount of Force you have in there, but that bitterness too.  We can teach you to harness it and use it as a weapon.  I sensed that you were betrayed, that you have great sadness inside.  Those are tools for people like us.  You don’t have to let it control you when you can control it, and make those who made you suffer pay for what they did to you.”

    Saffra smiled at the Arkanian with a touch of sarcasm.

“And how do I know that I can trust you?”

    Lord Kamak leaned back, mirroring her smile.

“You have nowhere else to run to, Little One.  And we can provide you with something you want: power.  Power so that no one will be able to stab you in the back ever again”–he lifted his hands, palms up–”The decision is yours.  If you would prefer not to train in our ways, then you are more than welcome to leave and wander the galaxy alone, letting that raw talent go to waste.  All I will say is that it would be a pity if you departed from us.”

    Saffra considered the Sith Lord’s words.  He was saying all the right things.  She did want power enough to ensure she was never used by anyone else, but it could all be a sham.  She didn’t know how the Sith operated other than the myths and histories she had been taught as a child.

    Her hand slid onto her stomach.  It wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to go.  She couldn’t think of any man on Anzat who would take her as a wife after what she had done.  She would never be a mother.  That door was firmly sealed to her.

    Why not accept his offer then?

“All right,” she heard herself say. “Teach me.”