Onderon

[Aziza Kalahari]

It had taken a long two weeks for Aziza to arrive at her destination. The voyage necessitated three transport transfers, and stops at twice as many spaceports. There had been nothing she could do about the delays, so she had not let them frustrate her; nevertheless, she was quietly relieved to reach the temperate jungle world. 

 

At least, it's galactic database profile had claimed it was a temperate jungle world. As her final transport approached the surface, all she could see was torn up soil, destroyed jungles, massive chains, and a floating sphere of some sort that defied normal technology. The city of Iziz was ringed in a massive wall; partly defensive, she assumed, casting a critical eye over it, and partly for intimidation factor. The database profile had spoken of a long and bloody history of a strong and proud people; it would therefore necessitate that for this to be the modern seat of the Sith Empire, a heavy hand would be needed. In the center of the city, she spotted an immense palace: her ultimate destination. She doubted not that it would be difficult to gain the audience she had come for, but persistence and patience were not the anathema to her that they were to so many others.

 

Once the ship had landed, she set out, carrying nothing but her small satchel, clothed in a simple black traveling dress, and turned her feet towards her goal: finding the truth behind the rumors of Master Kakuto Ryu's return. 

[Aziza Kalahari]

As Aziza made her way through the compound of the Sith with ease, surprise mingled with a strange sense of what might be termed derision. Long had she heard of the renown of the Sith, how fierce their fervor in battle, how intricate the webs of their plots. But now she found herself in the heart of their Empire, and she wandered unopposed and unchallenged. What was to stop a foe of the Empire from doing the same? Perhaps the Sith had grown confident in their power and could easily ascertain friend from foe by the merest glance, but even if that were true, she knew the potential of simple security checks and forces, and the power of procedure. 

 

The paved road she was walking was lined with statues, and she found her eyes drawn to one in particular. The being appeared to be the same species as Amadeus, tall and pale, though this Sith Lord boasted a jagged scar running through an empty eye socket. Indeed, the being bore the signs of many battles, including a prosthetic arm that wielded a warhammer of immense size.  

 

She pushed on, stopping only to ask servants and passersby if they could direct her to her quarry. Few were able to give her satisfaction, and she ended up mostly turning down streets on a whim. Eventually, her feet carried her to a hospital. Before she could decide whether to enter or turn aside, several figures emerged. First, a short dark-furred Cathar who moved with the lithe grace of a warrior and gave her a nod as she passed. She was followed by several men, mostly haggard-looking soldiers who nevertheless held themselves proudly. The one who appeared to be their captain gave her a nod of acknowledgement, and she nodded in return. 

 

Following them came another man, tall but haggard, with a strange haunted look. He was actively avoiding her gaze, and it took Aziza a moment before she recognized him as the same man whose statue lined the avenue behind her. Puzzled at his evasion, she took a step toward him. "My lord? Are you unwell?"

[Aziza Kalahari]

Panic appeared to set in as the strange man practically stumbled forward to the same statue that had previously caught the attention of Aziza. She observed as he stared at it, then clutched his forehead in apparent pain. He spun back at her and began to pile her with a sudden rash of queries. 

 

"My name is Aziza Kalahari," she replied, her tone gentle but firm. "I was sent here to Onderon by my teacher on a two-fold quest--to verify the rumors of the return of one Sith Lord called Kakuto Ryu, and if they be true, to deliver a message to him." She glanced between the statue and the man. "As for the statue, perhaps the likeness is poor and I am mistaken, but it appears to be you, or at least a relation of yours. Is it not?" The statue lacked a nameplate, and Aziza knew nothing more than what her eyes told her. She was unsure why the man was addressing her in the first place, but she hoped that by speaking with him, she would gain a lead on her quest.

[Aziza Kalahari]

Apparently this man was no Sith after all, though Aziza noted his sudden change of subject away from the statue and on to business. His body language read as confused and nervous, though it was unclear why. She decided to take him at his word, for she had not given him any reason to lie to her. "I am on foot as you see, Mr. Thundersun," she returned politely, "however, I am certain that transport will be easy to acquire. I thank you for your assistance in this matter; you have already helped me accomplish half of my mission in the space of a mere few minutes."

 

She glanced down the street. A few blocks away she had passed an airtaxi stand, and now she spied it again. "Come," she invited, and led the way to the stand. Once there, the airtaxi driver took one look at her companion and immediately ushered the two of them in, a carefully neutral expression on his face designed, Aziza could determine, to hide awe and anxiety. Her suspicions were confirmed: her companion was more than a mere refresher contractor. It was likely instead that he was a Sith Lord. Why he was choosing to hide his identity was a mystery, but not truly her concern. His business was his own, and if he felt that involved hiding from Aziza who he was, then she'd oblige him by asking no further questions. 

[Aziza Kalahari]

"Learn from them," she replied lightly, her eyebrows lifted as her mouth hinted at a smile. It was partially façade--being out in the middle of a marsh with a man who possibly wasn't all there on a strange world was beyond the boundaries of propriety. But she also knew that nothing was gained without risk, and this appeared to be a risk worth taking. She thought for a moment of what Amadeus had told her: that sometimes the Force would point beings down certain paths, and it was up to them to choose to walk on them or not. She wished she knew if this was one of those times. 

 

She pushed away her musings and continued, her tone graceful and warm. "The Sith are naturally untrustworthy, but not, I hope, unpredictable. There's an old saying where I am from that essentially posits that you can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest; I would imagine that in an order infamous for violence and power-grabbing, you can generally trust its members to be infamous of the same. Indeed, in my brief experience I have already seen infighting. It's a shame, but I suppose a natural consequence of the desires the Orders' members have."

 

She glanced over at him. "And you? How long have you worked for them? Are you involved otherwise beyond installing refreshers?"

[Aziza Kalahari]

She shrugged. "It's a risk, of course. All things worth pursuing require risk. I know not if I am up to the challenge or not, but I will try. And if I die trying, then I prove that I was weak. Perhaps that will be little comfort for the dead, but never have I felt comfortable simply being. Always I wish to strive to be more than I was before." She stepped in something that squelched. Wrinkling her nose, she hopped up onto the same fallen log Ryu was on and scraped her boot against it. "On my planet, I had risen as high as I could. I had power, wealth, and prestige. But I was stagnating. I had reached the top and found I had no where else to climb. So when I discovered I was Force-sensitive, there was no hesitation in me." 

 

She observed the leeches on his legs and hopped back down into the quagmire, choosing her steps more carefully to avoid attracting the same pests as they continued. "Some would call it foolishness, but I could not bear staying still and wasting away. A ceiling of transparisteel is a torment, for it allows you to see how far you may yet climb while utterly preventing you from reaching those lofty heights."

 

Aziza shrugged again. "I suppose that is a roundabout answer to your question: I am willing to risk everything to bind myself in service to the Sith because I believe that through them, I can shatter that transparisteel ceiling and become more than I could have dreamed of becoming if I had stayed on Carajam."

 

Her lips quirked. "And you? What path led you to refresher repair? What choices led you to become who you are today? What risks have you taken, and were they worth it?"

[Aziza Kalahari]

The man's tone suddenly grew mocking, and Aziza's eyebrows registered her surprise. "You misunderstand me, sir. Let me put it another way. The Sith have a code, the first line of which states that peace is a lie, there is only passion. I've spent long meditating on that phrase, and come to see that no matter what I may or may not have had back home, I was living in a state of passivity, of peace. It is unacceptable for me to live a lie." She wanted to continue, but the repairman jumped back in. Her polite smile grew cold, but she said no more.

 

As they came in sight of a low building, the man suddenly spun around, dropping into a casually defensive pose. Aziza subconsciously adopted a similar one, her training in Teras Kasi kicking in instinctually as the man raised his arms--and then revealed he was the man she had come to Onderon to find. A flicker of annoyance shot through her for him taking her on a wild nerf chase through the jungle, but was quickly replaced by curiosity. Why had he felt the need to hide his identity from her, a complete stranger?

 

But his words answered her unspoken question, and a ripple of disgust ran through her. Amadeus had warned her that the Sith Order was full of betrayal and infighting despite the Dark Lord's firm rule; clearly, that was what Ryu had expected, although what he had done to deserve assassination was unclear to Aziza. "Kill you? Why would I--?" she sighed. "Never mind. No, my Lord Ryu, I am exactly who I have said that I am." She inclined a head towards him respectfully, though she didn't take her eyes off him. "I bear a message for you from Lord Amadeus. I know not what he wants of or from you, only that the message was to be delivered to you or, failing your appearance, to the Dark Lord."

 

She met his gaze and paused, choosing her words carefully, knowing not what this unpredictable man would do next. "I expect to be remade. Other than that, you're right, I am not prepared. But sometimes you have to leap off a cliff without knowing if there is a repulsorfield at the bottom. If that makes me a fool, well," she shrugged, "I suppose I will fail."

 

Her hand drifted to the pouch slung diagonally across her shoulder. "May I present you with the datapad from Lord Amadeus?"

[Aziza Kalahari]

He didn't understand, and Aziza wasn't going to try to explain further. Clearly his experience had not been hers, and it was an impossible distance to relate from. She was about to attempt to change the subject when he accepted the datapad and read it, then chucked it back at her with scorn. 

 

A dagger of pain, sharp and unexpected, pierced her heart at his words, and she was caught so off-guard that she fumbled the datapad and barely recovered it before it plummeted into the bog. Amadeus doesn't want to teach me any longer? Had she done something wrong, something to offend him? Had she failed to meet his expectations, and he had tried to pawn her off on this Ryu without doing her the courtesy of explaining why? She had learned so much from him, and grown so much, even over the course of only a few weeks, and to be discarded like an old garment hurt--more than she wanted to admit or would have expected. It wasn't as if they had really known each other very well. But she had respected him, and this felt like a small betrayal. Betrayal is the way of the Sith, a voice whispered deep in her soul. 

 

She raised her chin. Ryu had settled more deliberately into a fighting stance, and he told her in no uncertain terms that he wouldn't train her. Well, she wasn't surprised. He didn't see how the power she had wielded on Carajam was insignificant compared to the power that Amadeus had shown her how to unlock within her, and how the only thing that mattered to her now was gaining more of it. "I will not give up just because you say so," she replied, her voice hard, her posture tensing as she raised her own arms into a defensive position. "I will learn the power you wield, and strive to one day be your equal."

 

She held the tension for a moment, then released it deliberately, letting her arms drift back down to her sides. "If you refuse to teach me, I'll find someone else who will."

 

She started to turn away, but unsure how he would react, she kept herself vigilant in case his reaction was to throw the punch he appeared to be readying.