Cathar

[Delta73]

With esteemed majesty and grace, the Best Behavior emerged from hyperspace at the edges of the Cathar system. The ship banked towards the golden planet and after a few terse words from the captain to the local authorities in some hissing howling language that Ca’Aran could only grimace at, they were joined on either side of the ship by a half flight of Z-95 headhunters from the central garrison. Probably just a safety detail, But Delta made sure he still had his blaster slung at his side. It fit with his costume anyway. He was not in armour this time, nor any kind of Black Sun stately uniform like he was used to. All of his old clothes were stored aboard the Marie and would be somewhere else in system, awaiting further orders. So he wore a cobbled together mix of rugged stylish clothes some seven decades out of style. He wore a wide brimmed hat from which dangled the teeth of a Corangi Lion cub from leather strips which was considered big game if you were an ewok.He strode down the ramp in style, hand on his overbig knife and greeting the immigration officials with a chipper backwoods accent. Calling them all “mates” like he was from Nordsikke back on Haruun Kal. He tipped his hat to the lovely black hair cathar he had come to like and passed her the Forged ID she had requested.

“Oy mate pleasur’ to see yah. Gotta show you this knoife later back at the ‘otel!”

[Delta73]

With a cough that was much more meant for the stage than in a spaceport Delta wiped the accent off of his tongue with all the force of a death star laser beam plowing through alderaanian schoolhouses. With one hand he tore the hat from his brow and tossed it underhand back on board the ship where is smacked into the back of a hauling droid. He pressed his forehead firmly into hers in the classic Mandalorian keldabe kiss, then crouched and turned it into a more human kiss. Since it would not do to expose himself as mandalorian to these Cathar that were somehow pissed about a ‘minor genocide’ from some four thousand years ago.

That would be like being mad over Exar Kun and Uliq Kel Droma massacring the Massassi. And literally no one was mad about that. Or even was interested in seeing that brutish species return to the fold of the galactic frontier. But people had to have an identity and the Cathars seemed to embrace full heartedly the victim mentality that plagued so many. So Delta would keep quiet and secretly wish Mandalore Terra would come and finish the job of Cassus Fett, in some kind of Albigensian Crusade.

He let out a low whistle at the EXP-9 and gave her a fierce and loving hug.

“You know I couldn’t have wanted anything different. Thank you so much Ailbasi.”

He held her close as he pulled the last of the wrappings off the mighty weapon and slung it comfortably at his side. His eyes also finding the Chissari that the Cathar girl seemed to be watching.

“What's with blueman group? Do you know him?”

He continued to walk beside her towards the exit of the starport.

[Delta73]

Delta let out a deep breath as the lovely black furred girl went off to talk to whatever the Sith had sent their way. The passion and speed of the relationship between them seemed to have taken his breath away, but now as he watched her walk away he could feel lingering doubts start to spring up like termites out of a akanian wood. He took a breath, than another, and another trying to suppress them but they kept coming.

Why would she even like me? Why would she even care?

It was then that it finally clicked.

He was no longer the soldier pretending to be a criminal. Committing stupid acts of terror to shock the galaxy on a meme, in order to advance the agenda of a sith lord. He wasn’t some good guy that he saw himself as. He hadn’t been for a very long time. Over a hundred years ago he had killed the one woman that loved him for what He was. Now he could blame that on circumstance, on engrained training. But that didn’t take the blaster bolts back, or the fact that he pulled that trigger. He wanted to cry out that evil wasn’t him.

But it all was him. He was disgusting. And as Delta’s hard blue eyes watched the descendant of Dagon conduct her Sithly business, he realized he hated himself. Every single part. He kept silent, his eyes taking in the lot, as his mind raged against itself. All spawned from the idea of love.

[Delta73]

Delta had, for a time watched the interactions of the Sith acolytes and their college aged master. It was strange to him to see their style of interaction, there was no grandeur in it like he was accustomed to seeing with Lord Ar-Pharazon or the Hutt Sheogorath. Both of whom he still considered as friends, for nothing really tied a group together like Terrorism. A pang of regret hit again and Delta turned the rush of emotions into a clenched fist and he distracted himself by looking at the holonet on his datapad, surprised to see that Terra’s group of fundamentalists had turned themselves into a real galactic threat. He sighed when suddenly he heard the voice of Ailbasí, tired and almost pained speak to him about taking her to her quarters.

He glanced up and the colour drained out of his tan visage almost as fast as she had also turned pearl white. He wanted to say something that would make her laugh but instead let the Datapad drop into the front pocket of his many pocketed hunting jacket. With strong hands he reached down and grabbed her under the arms and lifted her like a father would lift a small child.

“You’ll be all right, I getcha whatever you need ok, I’ll even grab several of em.” He had a mission now, a vile mission

With little effort he carried the light weighted sith lord to her room and sat her down on her bed. He grabbed a trashbin and placed it beside the bed in case she would be sick and with a kiss on her forehead and a quick tucking in of blankets he stalked out of the door, down the ramp, and into the spaceport. His ice blue eyes searching unfamiliar signs for any clue that would bring him to a black market. It was easy enough once he saw the first sign containing a small sun surrounded by spikes. The symbol of the Black Sun and its undermarket. Now he could have just gone around the spaceport until he found a victim to kidnap, and as he walked the stairs down into the underbelly of the spaceport he did consider doing such a thing, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was a last bit of maligned conscience, or the knowledge that with enough effort by the local feds any kidnapping could go horribly awry, and having been on the wrong end of such an experience on the bothan homeworld, he was not eager to go toe to toe with an entire civilizations defense force again.

He could get his lover food enough from the underworld, and he had credits enough.

“What are you looking for Blood Prince?” Said a cybernetic Cathar who had long ago sold her soul to the devil that was black sun. She used his formal title as the flag on his identity chip had told her to use.

 

“I am looking for slaves, three of them, on the cusp of adulthood with or without latent force ability. And you can take it off my chit, as well as a thousand for yourself of course.” That stirred a grin from the cathar and as her fingers flew over the datapad, he watched a series of faces pop up and be dismissed in the holographic readout. Every time he lifted his finger the faces stopped  and with a nod he would select one, and the face would continue splashing across the screen. “You have good stock today…”

“Well Kuat and Carida gave us many young and virile specimens to select from. As you would know commander. They aren't broken in though, and outside of manual labour you may need to mindwipe them”

He nearly winced to his own surprise at the thought of thousands of children being tossed headlong into slavery because he had assisted the Sith in their takeover of the coreworlds. Was it worth it? Was any of it worth it? He lifted his finger a final time and was staring into a holographic image of a girl with red hair, maybe fourteen, with a lively sneer on her face. Blue eyes. Kailen’s eyes.

“I’ll take the three, give them all a mixture of Chlordiazepoxide and barbiturates, I want no runners.” But there it was again, a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that lasted until he walked up the ships ramp with three drugged teenagers following him. A dirty business and one that he had caused. But one he had never really been this close to in his life. He held three datapads with the details of each slave and knocked softly on the door of Ailbasí’s quarters. He pushed the kids in front of him so they all collapsed asleep onto the couch on the side of her room. Three teenagers, human, Kuati heritage, two girls, and one boy. All young, all of rich lineage. All as a gift to the Sith.

He stammered for a second as the drugged teenagers snored softly on the couch behind him. “I brought you what I thought you would like. Young, force sensitive, innocent. I brought enough for everyone of your apprentices to have a bite too.” Like some den of vampyres.

Was this a trap he was setting before the two of them? A lesson in depravity? A trap to finish off his own soul? He didn’t know. All he knew was that this was a turning point, and he was along for the ride.

[Delta73]

I mean are kids really that different than someone like five years older than them? Delta wanted to yell in regards to his rejected gift. But then the coughing came, wicked and dark as she began to throw up blood in congealed masses on the floor. He stood still for a moment before letting the three datapad fall to the floor beside him in a clatter. He rushed to her side, gingerly holding her shoulders as she shook from the result of her self applicated meds. She continued to shake and Delta could feel the gnawing in the bottom of his stomach roiling up again.

“No feed off me, feed off me!” He tore away his collar exposing his neck to offer a feast of himself. He voice carrying with it the high pitch of a man truly afraid. Someone that was willing to give everything to correct a wrong.  But it was far too late for that, his timing was as forever off. And he could only crouch beside her as she took matters into her own hands to save the lot of them.

He screamed and dove at her as the needle tore home, but again it was too late and all he managed to do was tackle the corpse of the woman he loved to the floor as the convulsions took hold.

“God!”

He was screaming now, his voice hoarse. 

“God damn it.”

His bare hands lightly held her head as the last bit of the force bore through her like a knife, burning away her eyes in a flash of red tinged light. He watched the entire time and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He absorbed every bit of it. She had died to protect him, because of his stupid error. It was his fault. Again.

And with a blink the gnawing in his stomach was streaking up to his brain and Madness began to take its hold.

___________________

Song

___________________

“Why?” Why? He shouted at the heavens, maybe to Dagon, maybe to the scores of demons that watched him from the shadows of the room, their eyes white and red and always staring.

Why? You know why. You were never meant to feel.

The eyes blinked as one and he could see the large unblinking eyes of Tanwen Keyoo, the Kaminoan in charge of his pod, coming from the brown leather couch he had deposited the teenagers on before. The Kaminoian was dead now over a hundred years, but still always in the back of his mind. He looked away from those orbs and looked back down at the Sith lord he still cradled, his fingers seeking a pulse at her neck and finding nothing at all except the tremors that came with a melting nervous system.

You were produced for a purpose. And it was not this. Not love.

He laid the head down on the soft carpeted floor and gave her a light kiss on the forehead before standing. His heart hurt so much it felt like it would also melt away, and the corners of his vision narrowed as he began to cry. Hot tears rolling down his cheeks to splatter onto his torn shirt.

You were produced for War, nothing else. And now you see the consequences of trying to be anything else.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision of the mass of tears and so also wipe away the ghosts that flooded the room.

You should have learned this a hundred years ago. Everything you love is taken away.

“Shut up!” He strode towards the couch, his hands curling into useless fists.

But the demon continued its taunt.

It is not your purpose. You cannot deny your purpose!

“Shut up!” He screamed and reached out to find the slim Kaminoan neck. That at least felt real enough. He squeezed hard, reveling in the panicked movements below his fingers as he strangled the life out of his old pod master. But she continued to speak, even after he felt the larynx give way and the cartilage grind back unrelentingly.  

Do not deny your choices

He let go and struck this time with a closed fist, receiving a squeal of fear and pain in its place. He smiled and struck out at the vision again, loving the feeling of his clenched fist hitting the soft bone and cartilage of the Kaminoian face. The voice was gone but Delta struck again, and again until his fists were coated with thick mucus like blood and chips of bone had cut his knuckles. The thashing below his fists had also stopped, and Delta could only hear his heavy breathing, punctuated by a sob as he continued to blink tears away from his eyes.

Soldier!

A new voice as familiar as the last this time from behind a ‘T’ visor which glowed red, this time from the center of the couch, and Delta could see the yellow hawks on a field of stars on the side of the white helmet. Commander Gilthros. Head of commando team Delta, which had been deployed on Christophsis near the end of the clone wars.

“I said shut up! All of you shut up!”

Delta scrambled for the blaster that Ailbasí had given him at their journeys start. With shaking hands he depressed the trigger, sending a triple blast into the center of the couch. Silencing the clone commander's ghost.

There is a lesson to be learned Ca’Aran. Don't let this madness pass without you learning it.

The voice caused him to drop the blaster and fall to his knees beside his deceased lover. He stared at his hands, not having the courage to look up at the last ghost of the clone wars. One that had been exorcised by Qaela, but had come back nonetheless. She had always come back. He took a deep breath and he began to quench the rage and sickness that swirled through his body.   

“There is always a lesson, Kailen.”

But this one has purpose. You see before you the consequences of your actions. Redemption is still but a heartbeat away. You need only make the choice. Leave it behind. 

The tears dried and he took another deep breath. His eyes focused on the blaster laying beside him. So very tempting. But He had things to do, and it wasn't time for that yet. Another breath. And the voices were silent.

"But..."

Another breath. This one cold and without the sobbing of tears.

"Then I wouldn't be the Blood Prince."

Another breath.

"And who would I be without that? I retired clone trooper with no purpose? Kriff that my lady." 

Ca'Aran please

"If I can serve the Sith then I will. Someday I'll join you in hell. What's more death to add to the weight of my sins? I have given up redemption long ago." 

But silence only greeted him. 

___________________

He looked up at the mess on the couch and retched.

[Delta73]

When the retching had finished Delta looked up with bloodshot dry eyes and blinked at the Mess on the couch. Firstly it was a damned waste of good hard won credits to kill two slaves like that, and secondly it was a pretty damn fine mess he had made. He growled softly and went about the business of cleaning up the bodies scattered in his ex-lovers room. First, he dragged the body of the brunette kuati slave girl to the bathroom, and tossed her into the lavish bathtub, next came the kuati boy who he had riddled with blaster bolts, then finally the body of his lover. Whom he kissed and placed gingerly into the tub ontop the pile of human bodies. He had left the still drugged redhead slave girl who had reminded him of Kailen laying in the puddle of blood on the couch. Sleeping soundly on a mix of barbiturates and Chlordiazepoxides, and having not seen at all the fate of her fellow slaves.

He sighed, said a prayer, turned on the overhead exhaust fan in the bathroom, kissed the face of Ailbasí again, then tossed a thermite grenade on top of her and shut the door behind him. The bodies flashed into flame and sparks and he walked back into her bedroom. Ignoring the distant fire alarms that echoed down the way from the cockpit. At least she had been buried like some great warrior with a few sacrifices to keep her company. Smoke that smelled distinctly like cooking bacon bagan to billow out from underneath the durasteel door’s seems and Delta kicked a towel into the slit below the door and looked over at the sleeping teenager.

“So back on the old grind eh?” As he fished out his datapad to look at the news again, but he froze when slender arms wrapped themselves around him and a voice whispered in his ear that was definitely not familiar in any way. In instinct he simply dropped his shoulders several inches to break her grasp and with a shove threw the lady against the duraloid paneled wall. Placing his slugthrower right below her ample left breast. His face an inch away from hers and his voice was a very deadly growl.  

“And who the kriff are you?”

[Delta73]

With a twirl the slug thrower seated itself back into the kydex holster and Delta let the girl drop from where he was pinning her against the wall. He hooked a thumb to where the towel was struggling to keep the smoke out from her bedroom and shrugged.

“I didn’t much think to rescue it, thermite’s probably not melted it into scrap yet if you want to check. Sorry about the mess, can’t say I was expecting you back so very soon.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead that was now very much without the bristly fur of a Cathar.

“Welcome back dear, I look forward to whatever body you swipe into next.” He winked and stepped back, brushing his bloody knuckles on his jacket.

[Delta73]

As the Lady Sith went to check on her unruley pack of Sithies, Delta stood awkwardly in her bedroom. His crystal blue eyes slowly jumping from poster to poster which had been plastered on the walls. Random bands that were obscure enough to be cool to college aged kids/ His eyes eventually drifted back to where the red haired slave girl was just waking up from a barbituated daze.

“Ta.” He held out a reassuring hand to stop her from getting up.

“You need actual rest, not some drugged up stupor.”

She nodded softly and rubbed at her eyes, but didn’t try to speak, and instead laid back onto the leather couch and was fastly asleep before Delta could warn her about the blood she had stuck her bare feet into. He shrugged and sat down on Ailbasi’s bed, staring at the carpet and wondering what would befall him next.

It was in that state that the reincarnated Sith lord found him some time later. Still staring at the carpet, but he smiled widely at her and patted beside him. Inviting her to sit.

“We have all done things we regret. I’ve killed hundreds of thousands. You ate a sith lord. You know, normal couple things. It’s fine with me Ailbasí. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pulled her into a fierce hug. “What comes next for us?”

[Delta73]

Ca’Aran smiled and pulled the woman closer enveloping her in a hug.

“If you have to body jump all the time that seems like a hassle, luckily I have an immense line of credit.” He stuck his tongue out at her and kissed her on the furless forehead. Then he looked up to the slave who was still sleeping on the couch. He gently woke her and informed her of the mission he had set out for her and gave her a thousand credit chip. She rushed out with a nod and Delta turned back to Ailbasi.

“Black Sun is changing away from what it once was. Myself, Mindan, Jacen, Omega, and Kayal made Black Sun into a powerful military force. One that would be reckoned with. We withstood the Sith assault at Coruscant and in the peace time we made ourselves unbeatable. Now our alliances have shifted, the Sith rule the Galaxy, and I am the only one of the Princes left.”

He drew her again into a sad hug.

“So the Black Sun must change to survive. Otherwise…”

He sat down and steepled his fingers in front of him.

“We become a threat to the Sith, and we will be stabbed in the back.”

He laughed softly.

“So we must give up arms and return to what we once were. A Criminal Syndicate. And such a syndicate does not need a Prince of Blood. So I will also retire, lest I am put down in the eventual power struggle. If I get out now, I can secure my assets and money, but that also leaves me aimless and drifting. I imagine I’ll eventually eat the end of my pistol. But that’s a while out.”

He smiled, though his eyes did not reflect it.

“So, what do you want to do?”

[Delta73]

I bared my heart for this?

But his anger had piqued and so he lost it.

“You died for me?” His voice trembled as his voice rose into a roar. “No you died because you were too much a coward to face what a Sith really is! You’ll gladly serve a dark lord that condones worse than simply feeding on some children’s blood. Do you think the aftermath of Onderon or Kuat was bloodless? Children, imperials Jedi alike died in droves to the Sith but you couldn’t even think about coming face to face with what you really are?”

But he was screaming at the closing door. So he added the weight of a thrown datapad after it. Where it smashed into expensive electronic bits on the bulkhead.

She definitely deserved better than a mass murderer, Sith associate, aimless homicidal maniac like him. So he punched the bulkhead instead. Letting the pain from his knuckles slowly overcome the rage and pain of his heart. Until he stood, knuckles bleeding and seething. 

[Delta73]

“No need to carry those damned clothes anymore girl.”

Came the voice of the erstwhile Blood Prince to the slavegirl who had spent the past three hours rushing from shoppe to shop in the Catharan Downtown malls trying to find clothes for her master’s now departed mistress. With a sigh he stood and scanned the sky with his blue eyes. Searching for the speck that would be the Corvette Marie, finishing its downburn to pick him up. His comm had been ringing off the charts about the Dark Sun citadel being under Jedi siege, and it was time to spring the trap they had set some many months before. He laughed when he heard the slap of expensive clothes hitting the permacrete and he could hear the slave kicking them angrily into the gutters. And he winced on the laugh, perhaps an old injury, or the toxic fumes from burning his old lover with thermite. He coughed again, spat, then pulled the girl to her feet and walked her to where the Marie had settled down on its landing skiffs.

Soon they were both gone. Enroute to the next fight.

As that was all he seemed to be good for.