Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

It was probably a bad idea to go on by myself, but the Wookiee was not subtle at all. Things were already different from canon as I knew it. There had been no queen k'lor'slug and Cormun and some of his squad should have been holding out at the entrance with the help of two Sith instructors.

But maybe that was it. We had no mention of any other Sith deployed here. Or they'd already been eaten by the queen before the soldiers showed up. Whatever the difference was, it happened and now I needed to deal with it.

So here I am, stalking through a dark and creepy, though thankfully not haunted, tomb. Storming the camp right now would be a terrible idea. I had no idea how many looters there were and I had no desire to find out what a blaster wound felt like, much less multiples.

If the looters had at least a modicum of survival instinct, they would have posted sentries, maybe even patrols. My plan for the moment was to capture one to get some information.

I'm not trained in interrogation, so if I can't persuade them then I can just start crushing limbs piece by piece. Starting with the fingers and toes.

I shivered in the cold. In direct opposition to the exterior, the interior of the tomb was bone-chillingly cold. It didn't help that I was wandering around in only a pair of pants-turned-shorts and boots.

Note to self, after interrogation, steal the potential prisoner's clothes.

My walk through the dark hallways was quiet, with my footsteps being the only sound. Panning my glowrod around, I could barely make out a few shapes in the darkness. Closer inspection showed that they were dead k'lor'slugs. The looters seemed to be trying to keep their part of the tomb clear of the monsters.

My nose scrunched up in disgust at the stench. I didn't know if they were decomposing or if they smelled like that normally. Either way, it was bad.

I stuck a finger into the ichor. I'm no expert on the innards of monster centipedes, but this feels fresh. A patrol must have been through recently.

Continuing on, I took the time to really look around me. On the walls above, three frescos depicted scenes from ancient battles. One showed a warrior of great stature, double-bladed sword held up in victory. Another showed two armies clashing before transitioning into one of them walking away, hands in chains.

These murals were likely as old, if not older, than human civilization on Earth. And they were marred by recent scorch marks. I could see square-shaped disturbances in the dust that indicated where statues once stood.

A feeling that I quickly identified as rage started simmering in the back of my mind. My pride as a historian burned at the blatant disregard for history, even one as twisted as the Sith's.

I let the anger stew, but not boil over. It wouldn't help me if I was blinded by it.

Instead, I intended to find something to vent on.

The faint echo of voices came from further in. From what I could hear, there were three distinct tones. At least three targets. Or three plus anyone that was keeping quiet.

I clicked the glowrod completely off as I didn't want to alert the incoming patrol and slipped into the darkness, feeling my way along the wall and following the sound. Eventually, there was a literal light at the end of the tunnel. Creeping to the corner, I peered around to find my guess was correct.

Three men dressed in worn, but sturdy desert gear and armed. Two of them were about average height and build, but the third guy was big and walked like he knew how to use it. The smaller men had blaster rifles and the large man had a vibroblade and a pistol.

Bodybuilder Man seemed to be the one giving orders. So he was the one I needed to "talk" to.

Three on one tended to be terrible odds.

I slowly raised both of my hands and started curling my fingers inwards. Sudden movements stood out more than careful, deliberate ones.

The smaller men started looking uncomfortable, pulling at the collars of their clothes. Gasps for air soon followed as they sank to their knees. Bodybuilder Man turned around to see what was wrong.

I twisted my hands suddenly. Two loud snaps followed as the looters' heads unwillingly rotated one hundred and eighty degrees.

Three on one are indeed terrible odds. But the Force is a hell of an equalizer.

Startled, Bodybuilder Man stumbled back, mouth opened to shout. That wouldn't do at all.

With a thought, the looter's mouth shut with a tooth-jarring snap, causing his yell to come out as a whimper. With a bit of effort, I levitated him half a foot off the ground. Hand held out towards him, I circled the now-sweating man.

Technically, the gesture was completely unnecessary. I could accomplish the same just by thinking hard. Rather, it was a bit of self-hypnosis to subconsciously associate the gesture with the action to lessen the amount of concentration required to maintain the action, allowing me to multi-task more easily.

"Well hello, my new large friend," I grinned, "You and I are going to have a chat so I can make some more friends. But first…"

I knelt and examined the corpses, trying to see if one was my size. Nodding, I quickly relieved one of their shirt and pants before emptying the contents of their bags into my own.

They only had food, water, and a few assorted bits of gear, the latter of which I'd sort through later. Any artifacts that were collected were probably held back at their camp anyways.

"An apt display," An aged voice commented as I slung their blaster rifles over my shoulders. It was a scratchy ancient thing, like the sound of an old scroll unfurling, "Unrefined, but acceptable for a mere acolyte."

I whirled around to face the source of the voice, only barely maintaining my grip on the looter. In the light of the glowrods, I could only just make out the form of an emaciated figure emerging from back the way I came.

But in the gloom, a pair of glowing yellow-orange eyes stood out brightly from a dark brown hood.

I was preparing to attack before I remembered there was supposed to be someone else in the tombs. I inclined my head in a short bow, "My lord."

I did not take my eyes off him. While he may be a hunched over old man that looked like a stiff breeze would do him in, I knew full well that he could probably kill me with the slightest twitch. One did not live comfortably in the monster infested tomb without being very capable of wrecking your shit. The fact that he's both Sith and old set off a lot of red flags as well.

Spindrall examined my face before glancing at my prisoner. Those sulfurous eyes came back to me as the ancient robed man's face split into a malevolent smile, "You are wary…Good. You may live longer than most."

He seemed to search for something before continuing, "How is it an acolyte only recently arrived to the sands of Korriban knows of this old hermit enough to react with fear?"

Crap.

"Overseer Iren mentioned that you might be in the area," I replied before wincing internally. Attempting to lie to an old Sith Lord was a poor idea to begin with.

An unamused look was the response, "If you are going to lie to my face, boy, at least have the decency to do it well."

"I apologize, my lord. I merely did not want to seem as though I were stooping to rumormongering. I learned of your presence here from another acolyte," The best part was that it's technically true. I knew he was somewhere in here from Lord Kallig's time as an acolyte.

Either he believed me or he just didn't care, because Spindrall merely stared before turning around, "Follow me."

"My lord?"

"I wish to watch you work," He answered, "I do have a vested interest in your task, after all. I ordered it because the looters were disturbing my meditations."

I left the question "well why didn't you take care of it yourself" unasked. I liked living, after all.

...

Spindrall's "chamber" was the burial chamber, with Ajunta Pal's sarcophagus right in the middle of the room and dimly lit by candles. I bet he'd be pissed if he were still floating around.

Something was cooking over a small fire in the corner. There were only two things to eat in this tomb. I didn't want to think much about either possibility.

Skullface and the other acolytes weren't here. Either Kallig already passed through here or the failed acolytes hadn't arrived yet.

A familiar bark got my attention. I blinked, "Gaarurra? What are you doing here?"

Lo and behold, my furry acquaintance and our newly-found paraplegic friend were off to one side of the room. Neither were anymore damaged than the last time I saw them. Cormun was somewhat covered now as the remains of my old shirt had been turned into an improvised loincloth.

"I found the beast and the broken soldier before I came upon you," the old Sith replied. The Wookiee growled, but did nothing else. His self-preservation instincts must be going nuts right now. Spindrall turned to face me again, "Sound will not travel far from this room. Do as you will."

There was only a slight pause before Bodybuilder Man was sent hurtling into a wall. Dropping my other acquisitions on the floor, I walked over and crouched next to his slumped over form.

"As I was saying earlier, we're going to have a chat," I began, "Whether that chat is friendly or not is up to you, my large friend."

It was a bit strange to see a man that large cower in front of me, but then I did just shadow-kill his two buddies in only a few seconds. He seemed to find some small well of courage as he glared at me in response, "You're just going to kill me anyway. There's no point!"

"True. You aren't going to get off this planet alive no matter what you say," I admitted. The whole "why threaten to shoot him when you're just going to throw him out of the plane" argument comes to mind. But I have an answer, "What's the point then? The point is that if you talk now I don't have to get creative.

The point is that there will be a difference in how you die. Quick and painless. Or in horrible agony as I pop your extremities and limbs off bit by bit, one at a time. Then I move onto the face, starting with the eyes."

I paused, tapping my chin in thought, "Or I can still pop your limbs off, but then leave you out for the k'lor'slugs and go find someone more willing to talk," Shrugging, I continued, "Are they really worth that much to you that you'd endure excruciating pain for them?"

All of which I said with a cheerful smile.

Now, I don't like torture. Too inefficient and they'll say anything to make it stop. If I actually have to resort to it, then I've failed on some level. But the threat of torture on the other hand…

Suffice it to say, he broke down quickly without me having to touch him. No honor among thieves when pain is on the line, it seemed. Through the blubbering, I learned there were about thirty of them total and armed to the teeth. Twenty-seven now. Still, I assumed he'd lie to spite us, so I mentally doubled that number. Better to be over-prepared than under-prepared.

They did have a cache of artifacts, but it was directly under their boss's supervision. That was fine, we were planning to kill them all anyways. They had enough of a haul that they'd require transportation to get it all out. That was when I learned they had speeders nearby and a smuggler ready to take them off world. I filed that last little tidbit away for later.

"Thank you for your contribution to the Sith census," I replied glibly. I savored the look of brief confusion on his face before snapping his neck with a jerk of my wrist.

"There you have it," Spindrall remarked with a nod of approval, "You know your enemy. All you need do now is crush them."

"Thank you for the use of this chamber, Lord Spindrall," I gave a short bow before turning to my companion, "Gaarurra, take your pick of the gear. We'll hit the camp when you're ready."

I quickly stripped myself of the tattered clothing I arrived in before dressing myself in the clothing I scavenged earlier. My sense of modesty had died months ago and I was freezing.

I also took Bodybuilder Man's belt, shirt, and pistol. While I would probably ditch the rifle I already had before I reached the academy, the pistol could be more easily concealed for a later advantage.

I twisted the shirt into an improvised hood.

Gaarurra claimed the man's vibroblade and one of the rifles, which I did not contest. Not only was he a lot bigger than me, he'd be better able to keep people and monsters from killing me.

Blaster packs and other miscellaneous gear we split evenly between ourselves. Gaarurra gently hefted Cormun onto his back. We'd find someplace to hide him on the way.

"A question before you go, acolyte," the Sith Lord's cracked voice wheezed. I turned to hear it, "Why do you spare the soldier? He will only slow you down."

I thought about it for a minute. The old me would have just claimed it was the humane thing to do. But I wasn't that man anymore. I had a different answer.

"Because his perseverance impressed me. True, his squad failed to accomplish the objective they set out to do, but he held on long enough through horrific injuries to warn the next group of the dangers ahead to increase their chance of success."

I looked Spindrall in the eye as I continued, "I wish to see that kind of tenacity and dedication nurtured," I allowed a smile tinged with a hint of malice and lowered my voice so that Gaarurra wouldn't hear.

"And if he decides to use said dedication in my service…well, all the better."

Spindrall's dry chuckling echoed in the chamber, "Acceptable reasoning," He gestured to a small mat off to the side, "Leave the soldier here. As I said, he will only slow you down. I will ensure that he does not perish as you complete your tasks."

"Thank you, my lord," I nodded my head towards Gaarurra, who placed Cormun back down.

As we left, I thought I heard Spindrall say, "Far be it from me to curb the ambition of a Sith…"

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The first book has been completed on Patreon, alongside the second book. You can visit Patreon if you want to read in Advance.

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