Chapter 62
When the door closed behind me, all the strength keeping me going seemed to abandon me, though the dregs that remained were sufficient to drag my battered body to the med-bay.
The doctor on staff took some scans of me, blanched, then tried his hardest to physically throw me into a bacta tank.
I had neither the energy nor the desire to resist, so I had my equipment removed, replaced by a pair of white briefs, and had my broken arm set before I was submerged with a breath mask over my face.
Almost as soon as I hit the warm bacta, my eyelids drooped closed.
Images flashed behind my eyelids as I slept, but my mind was too sluggish to register them as anything but blurs. I thought I saw Ragnos' withered face, but it could easily have been Spindrall. They both smiled like the galaxy's creepiest grandfathers.
When I awoke again, I barely felt more rested than I had when I was placed in the tank. However, the pain that had been wracking my body was dulled to a tolerable level even without Crucitorn.
Opening my eyes, I looked around for the medical personnel, only to find them absent. Given the lack of other patients, I assumed they had retreated to their offices rather than sit around and watch me float in a tube for what was likely several hours.
I glanced down at my arms and gingerly tested them. My right arm immediately moved as I wished, showing that the neurological effects of the lightning damage had been dealt with, though ugly violet scars ran from the palm of my hand up to my forearm.
When I tried the left, it worked, but there was a jolt of pain originating from my elbow. It seemed that bacta could only do so much for a broken arm, though it had obviously accelerated the healing process. I would likely have to avoid using it for a while as everything set back into place, though more bacta treatments would probably reduce it further.
That was an annoyance given that it was my dominant hand, but it wasn't an insurmountable issue. I was just as capable with my right hand as with my left. The only thing I wouldn't be able to do is write. For some reason, that was the only thing I'd never been able to train my right hand to do.
As I floated in the tank, I realized that this was the first time I'd seen my own skin in nearly four days. With the armor and body glove out of the way, I could see the visible effects my alterations had on my body.
At my shoulders, elbows, and wrists, the muscles and connective tissues had warped and bulged grotesquely beneath my skin, which itself had hardened into thick, discolored patches of calloused tissue. A glance further down showed my legs bore similar marks.
While there were no visible signs of my alterations to my heart and lungs, the major arteries carrying oxygen-rich blood away from them glowed dimly beneath my pale flesh and pulsed with each artificially-slowed beat.
Despite the changes, I didn't feel…anything about them. No fear, no anger…nothing. They were just a consequence of my own actions. If they needed to be fixed, I would fix them. If they didn't, who cared?
However, I would need to check and make sure I hadn't accidentally given myself super-cancer after I got back to Korriban. But I sure as hell wouldn't be doing it on this ship.
Satisfied that I was intact enough to be mobile again, I looked around for the release to get out of the tank. I didn't want to stay in here longer than I had to.
After I pulled the release, the tank let out a hiss audible through the bacta right before the hatch opened and the mechanisms lifted me from the tank. Unhitching myself from the harness, I dropped to the floor as my legs momentarily buckled.
Right. Immersion in a bacta tank could leave you feeling drained. Something I probably should have remembered.
Fortunately, strength quickly returned to my limbs and I was able to pull myself back to my feet. My equipment was piled in a corner nearby, still caked with mud. Using telekinesis, I was able to redress myself one handed without too much trouble, though I didn't put my left gauntlet and vambrace back on. The extra weight likely wouldn't have helped my arm any.
I left the helmet and its fried electronics where it was. I'd get a new one later.
A door across the room slid open as the same doctor from before walked in. He didn't look happy to see me out of the tank.
"Have we arrived at Korriban yet?" I asked, preempting whatever he was about to say.
The man's mouth had opened to say something before I interrupted him. He closed it for a moment before answering, a non-verbal sigh in his tone. I guessed he was used to dealing with obstinate patients, "Very nearly, milord. We should be exiting hyperspace any moment now."
"Good." I said simply and started making my way to the door.
"Milord?" I turned to look at him, "At least allow me to fetch you a sling for your arm."
I thought about it for a moment. Walking around with my arm in a sling would be as good as announcing that I was weakened…but at the same time, I didn't want my injury getting worse while it was still healing. It didn't take long for pragmatism to win out over self-image.
I nodded my assent and the doctor darted out of the room.
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My return to Korriban was quiet, lacking any sort of fanfare. I didn't see Darth Mindfuck or talk to anyone. I just got onto the shuttle and waited.
When I touched down at the academy's exterior landing pad, Iren was waiting for me. He didn't say anything, just wordlessly directed me to follow him. While I would have preferred to seek out my bed, I suspected that he wouldn't have bothered if it wasn't important.
As we walked, the thrum of Korriban's power echoed in the back of my mind. Involuntarily, I let out a sigh of relief. After three days on Corbos, I hadn't realized that I would miss it.
But now that I was back? It was comforting in a way.
"You have changed." Iren said abruptly as we stepped into the academy itself.
"Have I?" I asked, "I don't feel any different."
"It is in your walk. The way you hold yourself. Your presence." The Overseer fell silent for a moment before continuing, "To you, I suppose it would have been a subtle change. Or perhaps you were too caught up in the events of the past several days to notice."
I didn't really have an answer for that, so I kept my peace.
"I believe that a visual demonstration would prove more effective than attempting to explain." His gaze panned the corridor ahead. He pointed a hand forward, "Continue walking forwards and do not stop."
I shrugged and did as he said, curious to see what he was talking about.
My boots lightly tapped on the floor as I moved forward. Just as I passed the first intersection, another body abrupty appeared to my right. We both paused.
During that moment, I was able to get a good look at them. A Sith Pureblood, male. Nobody I knew or recognized. Based on his robes and lack of a lightsaber, he was likely another acolyte.
Purebloods were notoriously proud of their power, though it was a well-earned pride considering that most of them were born with a strong Force connection. As such, I was surprised by what happened next.
Yellow eyes met my own and I saw his widen slightly. And then he moved around me before quickly disappearing down the other corridor.
The Sith hadn't even glanced at my face or my scars.
I was a former slave, dressed in ratty, mud-splattered armor with my left arm in a sling. And he had moved around me instead of forcing me to move.
When Iren silently joined me, I asked, "What the hell just happened?"
"You are marked beyond the simple brand on your face." My confusion must have shown on my face, as he elaborated soon after, "When beings of great power perish, it sends out a ripple in the Force. For most, this does not reach beyond their immediate vicinity. However, Leviathans are potent creatures. The cry of ten thousand souls echoed all the way here to Korriban and possibly as far as Dromund Kaas. That same death knell also marked you. It clings to you like a miasma." He gestured to the hallway the Pureblood had left down, "That acolyte did not know what it was that he was perceiving, but he instinctively knew that its owner was not to be trifled with."
That was…interesting? It would definitely make keeping a low profile difficult if I couldn't suppress it. Had I been assigned the task with the knowledge that it would happen?
"Now, you will only see that manner of reaction among your lessers. More powerful Sith will merely see it as a challenge. A threat to be eliminated rather than something to avoid."
I narrowed my eyes slightly in the bald Sith's direction. Perhaps it was my paranoia talking, but Iren was being a little too free with advice, especially compared to his previous devotion to neutrality, "So why are you telling me this instead of leaving me to discover it on my own?"
"Because I am no fool." Iren explained bluntly, "I realized the direction your path would lead the moment you showed that camera footage to me. I merely underestimated the scale of the tasks you would be expected to undertake. Placing my support behind a soon-to-be highly-placed apprentice seemed the wisest course, especially in light of recent developments."
I turned to look at him fully, "You know who he is?"
The Overseer scoffed, "Of course I do. Or at least what little he allows to be known about himself. You have attracted the attention of Darth Rictus, a lord of the Dark Council and the master of the Sphere of Mysteries."
I stumbled as he said those words, but Iren kept walking. I was forced to jog to catch up.
"Given your personal history, it is understandable that you did not recognize him. Darth Rictus only attained his seat shortly before the Treaty of Coruscant after Darth Ekkage was killed by the Republic. At the time, you would have been in the slave camp on Apatros." He allowed a wan smile to show, "As an Overseer, I should be honored that one of my charges has caught the eye of one so high in the Empire. But involving a Lord of such a lofty position comes with its own complications."
What he left unsaid but was blatantly obvious was that Darth Rictus likely had a hand in his predecessor's forced vacation, though I knew that the job hadn't been finished and Ekkage was imprisoned on Belsavis. But he also implied that the Sith Lord was likely still establishing his position among the Council.
Darth Rictus was a name that I recognized but didn't know much about other than the fact that he was the chronologically oldest member of the Dark Council. At best, he had only ever been given brief mentions. That left me at an extreme disadvantage when dealing with him. So far, I only knew that he was much better than me at the mental powers, which he had demonstrated rather liberally.
I needed to find out more if I was to survive him. But if he was as cagey with his secrets as Iren was implying, that would be…difficult.
Iren's office was relatively close to the side entrance of the academy and it soon became obvious that we were heading there. He kept his peace until the door shut securely behind us.
After seating himself behind his desk, the Overseer continued where he left off, "I am aware of Darth Rictus' intolerance towards aliens, a view shared by many traditionalist Sith. With that in mind, I have no doubt that I know what final task he has assigned you. It is a waste of potential, but it is all but suicidal to go against the orders of a Dark Lord."
"It is…unfortunate." I said carefully, choosing the remain standing rather than seat myself in one of the open chairs, "Gaarurra has proven useful over the past year. But I know he wouldn't advance far in the Empire, limiting his usefulness after I left the academy. Nevertheless, I feel he will be of use in the meantime. The others are inconsequential."
Especially Olia. She'd never join me willingly. And having one such as her at my back was just asking for a knife in it.
Iren leveled a steady gaze at me, studying my face for a long moment, "You may yet survive your future Master. But first, you will require a true weapon." He gestured to the proto-saber on my belt, "That…antique you found on Corbos will break on the first blade it touches."
Not that it worked anymore anyways. The lightning bolt that had fried my helmet had destroyed the already-corroded circuitry in the lightsaber.
The Overseer reached into a drawer behind his desk and retrieved an object. The sound of metal clicking against metal broke the still air.
"I trust that you recognize it?" Iren commented, a hint of a wry smile pulling the corners of his mouth upwards.
"I do." I confirmed, my eyes locked onto the object, "But isn't that…?"
"Overseer Miral's lightsaber? Yes. However, after you returned it, she was…relieved of her position for her failure." He gestured to it, "Take it."
Slowly, I raised my hand, opening my fingers just in time to feel metal slap into my palm as I drew it towards me. It was cool to the touch. It was a simple silver cylinder with a short stubby emitter shroud at the top and a black ridged handgrip at the bottom.
Holding it away from myself, I pressed the activation switch.
Pssshhew
As the red blade extended, the harsh buzz of energy filled the air.
"Normally, an acolyte is not granted their first lightsaber until they have completed their fourth trial. However, your circumstances are far from normal. As you defeated Castor, who in turn defeated Miral, that lightsaber is yours by right of conquest."
I saw blood on the floor and heard Castor screaming.
I shoved the sensations aside.
"In the right hands, it is an elegant, precise weapon." Iren commented, either unknowing or uncaring of my brief episode, "I trust you will make better use of it than its previous owners."
"I will by surviving." I promised vaguely, extinguishing the blade and clipping it to my belt.
With a wave of his hand, I was dismissed.
As I exited the room and the door closed behind me, a shadow detached itself from the wall and fell in behind me.
