Within the Outer Rim, in the Koobi system, Diomeni's ship was cruising toward Nelvaan, and a clamorous noise of celebration filled the bridge when he received the message. His wrist-comm had toned a sound that indicated a private audience via hologram. Diomeni knew at once who was calling.
"My friends!" He had said, and all had gone quiet, expecting a rousing speech. Diomeni tickled the chin of Dia, the Twi'lek palish-pink woman, and then addressed them all. "Your leader has need of privacy. He is to fall victim to the pressures of bureaucracy." The crew members booed, jeered, bemoaned their leader's misfortune, and begged him to say it wasn't so.
"Never forget my friends," He said, holding his hands out and silencing them, "that I bear the burdens so you don't have to. Now I hasten my departure! The matter is urgent. Don't stop the noise, however. Spread it for the rest!"
It wasn't as well as he would have liked, but it did not tow their hopes and happiness to the depths. Diomeni passed out of the bridge and toward the communication room, pulling Dia for a deep kiss that lasted ten seconds, the palish-pink Twi'lek woman dizzy and the crew cheering. Diomeni fixes his clothes, ties his hair in a ponytail, and goes to the central holo-projector. Keying the command, the holographic form of Darth Sidious appears. The red-haired man is on one knee, bowing reverently, awaiting the first words.
"You took your time," said the Dark Lord of the Sith.
"My apologies," Diomeni said, "What is thy bidding, Lord?"
Darth Sidious was silent momentarily before saying, "A rogue element has entered my design. Young Skywalker is in danger."
"...I understand," Diomeni said, his mind racing with reminders about the dire consequences. "Where?"
"He is being defeated by the Malevolence on Ryloth." Palpatine paused, "I need him alive."
"One way or another," Diomeni looked up, "I am a servant of the future, and the future dictates this man's life be spared to thrive. I will not fail."
"See to it you don't." Diomeni waited for him to end communication, "I called you because communications with Tyrannus are jammed. Is your Siren capable of reaching him?"
Diomeni said, "Let's find out." He stood to his full height. Diomeni emanated a deep, throaty growl, almost reptilian, the sound of an engine clearing any debris to operate smoothly. He sucks in a shaky, asthmatic breath and says, "Awaken. Bring Count Dooku and no one else."
Diomeni's eyes flash open, his deep brown eyes glowing with tiny red dots in the center of his pupils. They blink three times, and when they settle on a steady, pulsating in a stable glow. Then, Diomeni shakes his head.
"I am not a child, my Count. I am hedonistic, not a pup." After a pause, Diomeni chuckled, "Always."
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Dia watched Diomeni burst from the holo-room, returning his new ponytail to the wild locks he preferred. The crew cheered, their course still for the planet Nelvaan, but Diomeni clapped his hands, his expression dead-set.
"Turn us around!" he called out, ceasing the revelry. "We make for Ryloth. Contact General Vorsa; tell him to rendezvous before the planet of his origin. We must be there by the speed of light! NOW!"
The crew scrambled at once, cleaning their stations, setting aside the wine, or filing out of the bridge to spread the news. After watching the crew's activity for a few seconds, Dia walked straight toward Diomeni as he stood before the viewport. Dia heard her shoes— she wore shoes now, instead of treading on bare feet—tapping against the metallic floor. The Twi'lek was coming down from her high, only to feel it return as she reached Diomeni's side. So she never quite took in the appearance of the crew or surroundings of jungle vines and leaves adorned overhead. It was only Diomen the Gift Giver. Nelvaan, a teal planet, began shifting quickly to the top left corner of the viewport until there was nothing but black and stars.
"Three minutes to Hyperspace, my Lord," called out the bridge officer. Diomeni nodded, not turning to the woman next to him. Dia studied his face, and the back of her mind could safely say the word study, not merely ogling. His face appeared decidedly resolute, lacking any eagerness that she could see. Dia wondered if this man was a prince, renouncing his ways for exploration and warfare. Did this make her a princess, she wondered silently, or something more? What more is there?
"Speak, Dia," He said finally. "Here, aboard my ship, all silence themselves for you and not the other way around."
Dia hesitated, then said, "Why are we leaving?" As if remembering how to speak.
"Count Dooku," he scowled, frightening her but relaxing when he smiled at her instead of space, "has tested the Malevolence against Skywalker. And we," he smiled with her, "are picking up the pieces. We are conquerors, lovers, and scavengers."
Dia looked down, "You are not insulted?"
"Of course not. I love my job, but it's still a job, and I am a valuable resource to the Confederacy," he touched her lip. "Until then, war pulls us hitherto and henceforth, and we obey the call."
"But…did not Grievous…?" Dia's voice cut off to shiver slightly at the name of the barbarous General. However, after the siege at Mon Gazza, Grievous almost radiated happiness, petting Tazma and Skota like children. It was only after they loaded the prisoners that Grievous asked(read: ordered) Diomeni to escort a group of Techno Union scientists to the planet of Nelvaan. Diomeni chuckled a slow, building, and monotonous laughter that ended with him gasping loudly for air. Dia shivered then, for the first time since Tatooine, at Diomeni, but abruptly, he surprised her by spinning her around.
"He's always upset," Dioemni said with laughter. "Besides," he continued, "the Techno Union can handle things without us. Verily, their neutrality saves them from prying eyes, and no one knows about Nelvaan.
"Or have you something on your mind?"
Dia thought shortly, thinking between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
"I," she began, "cannot say I am too eager." She tasted the honesty again, unlike her previous tide on Tatooine, and instead like a gentle stream. "I su- suppose I wanted something…glamourous and," she breathed, "exotic."
Diomeni nodded, smiling, "Never you mind, Lover Mine," He pulled her close, "If you waited these many years for a life you never knew you needed, you could stomach more. We ride for the planet of Ice and Fire. One of us will dip in the frozen waters and dry with the searing sun, but my kiss will protect her. Won't it, Dearest Dia?"
Dia, absorbing his words with closed eyes, said, "I think I will." then, his words hit her, "But, why Ryloth?"
"Because," he said, sickeningly slow, "Count Dooku has plans for Ryloth." And it seemed then the subject had ended. "To Ryloth!" he cried, pumping his fist in the air.
"TO RYLOTH!" All nearest to her chorus, "TO RYLOTH!"
"Ride forth, Ialdabaoth!"
"RIDE FORTH, IALDABAOTH!"
Then, she rushes to Diomeni and nearly topples him. He looks thrown off before he laughs aloud.
"Forward, Ialdabaoth." He whispered. The Ialdabaoth was the first ship designed after the Sabaoth. The Sabaoth debuted just hours before the Clone Wars were formally declared, and Chancellor Palpatine's army marched to face them. Diomeni knew that Cavik Toth, an ally chosen by Dooku, would misuse the Sabaoth Squadron, so Diomeni adamantly refused him the use of Ialdabaoth. For where the Sabaoth destroyer ranged from 500 or 600 meters in length, Ialdabaoth belonged to the Prince of Beasts. And this red-haired prince smiles as they finally enter hyperspace. And Nelvaan is spared from the Prince's crusade, left to the mercy of the Techno Union. It would take more time without the Ialdabaoth, but they were primitive. There was nothing to worry about.
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So, a planet's worth of events happened during this time. Where do I even begin? Not at the beginning, since my journal might already be repetitive. But it's hard to tell what the beginning, middle, and end of this tale, which I've dubbed the Path of Blood. Let's start with why I screamed.
My memories of the event are hazy at best. Everyone glared at Fândyrm(later known as the Malevolence), and my Jedi companions separated from my company to contact reinforcements. I didn't follow them, though I preferred their company over anyone else's.
I continued to glare at the Malevolence, which morphed into squinting. Something was terribly wrong with the ship; I couldn't explain why. I can now, but I'll save this for later.
It showed us its side, which had yet to fire a single weapon, even as we broke the distance but by bit. Typically, some animals reveal their bellies as a sign of submission, while others display a unique way of baring their teeth. Then again, other animals must roll on their backs to fully use all their limbs. Already, something contradictory there because some creatures have no teeth to bear. So, I wondered then: what kind of teeth do you have, Fândyrm? Are you a viper with poison-tipped fangs to sting rather than chew? Will you tear us apart or swallow us whole?
I considered everything I learned about Grievous in those hours, but in the end, they did nothing. It never occurred to me that communications had been jammed, and even if it had, I was powerless. I watched as the circular space on the side of the Malevolence brought the glimmer of a pinkish light. The light expanded, and a ring of purple energy raced toward us.
That's when I screamed.
Believe it or not, I sometimes imagine how I die. I know I will someday, and when I imagined such things, I envisioned explosions, slow motion, my life flashing before my eyes, and potentially what my future could have been if I made one decision slightly different from my own mistakes. So, when the Malevolence's dirty trick raced toward us, I thought I'd go in a blaze, and it would be quick. But instead of slow blazes of memories, my mind asked, wait, why is that beam purple? Isn't that for ion—and that's when the power in our ships cut off. The ship that had once vibrated and hummed with life and tension was sucked out like liquid with a straw.
So, of course, that's when they started shooting.
As we drifted off course, like insects rendered helpless with our wings ripped off, Grievous' ship fired at us with all his cannons. The floor began tiling, and I had to rush for the doors to keep myself from potentially plummeting below, sloping like a hill.
"I know I like to view things from all angles, but this is ridiculous," I remember saying. I sensed something crossing me, and I reached out and clasped Kilian's hand, the old man's face alight with fear.
"Thank you, lad!" he said, and I nearly said something before I reached out with my opposite hand to catch Appo.
"You okay, Appo?" I asked, pulling them up with me as we stalked toward our friends in by the holo-projector.
"Not really," he said. "I want to be angry, but I should probably focus on surviving first."
"Oh, I don't know!" I grunted, "You should try saying something that doesn't match what you mean; it does wonders for me."
We reached the others in time to hear an explosion and turned in time to watch one of our Acclimators burst into a ball of fire. My eyes widened, knowing at last what had taken Master Nune's life. I filed this image in my mind.
"We have no power!" Obi-Wan said as Rex and the others tried to regain control.
"We noticed!" Anakin and Ahsoka said, then looked at each other.
"So did I," I called out, "I just didn't want to say anything. I thought you wouldn't notice."
Before Obi-Wan could complain, we felt our ship rumble and knew immediately to leave. Calls to head for the escape pods rang out, and I made a break for it. But, as if things weren't complicated enough—
"Artoo!" cried Anakin, and I watched him break away from the pods and push troopers aside to find his droid. My mouth fell open, and I turned back and forth from the pods to Anakin, hearing Obi-Wan call me, thinking I said, "Stupid droid," and raced after him. Anakin had reached the dome-headed astromech, propped against the wall next to the doors, and definitely out of power. Anakin heaved the droid up with both arms, and I took the droid's legs and helped him bring it to the pod. We rushed as quickly as we could; Ahsoka had joined us, looking lost and confused and anxious to help in any way.
Anakin made his way to a pod with Appo relieving Anakin of the droid. The ship rocked again; something sparked, and I lost my balance before reaching the pod. When I got up, I saw the door had shut, and Anakin was absent.
A slender pair of arms hugged me, pulling me to my feet, and Ahsoka led me to Obi-Wan. The rumbling of the ship continued, jolting and jostling and nearly jutting us face-first into the wall, but we made it to the pod. Ahsoka thought to return to her Master, but his pod had already flown through space, so she joined us. Ahsoka sat adjacent to me while my Master shut the pod door, and my stomach sank as the force of the launch bounced my insides. The cruiser became farther and farther off as Fândyrm continued to pelt it with hail fire. The ship kept fracturing, pieces scattering under every blast until it finally shattered in a cloud of flames.
I watched, wide-eyed, as just a few minutes ago, we were on that ship. How close I could have been to being reduced to ashes floating aimlessly in space. And I looked at my companions: Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Captain Rex, and two more Clones. Marooned were we and likely doomed.
"Well," I began after the explosion died out, "I can cross 'abandoning ship' off the bucket list."
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"Why aren't we sending the hunters, my Lord?" Grievous asked. Having returned with the siren at his side, Count Dooku gestured out the viewport.
"They will be dealt with," he said, "but not by us. Diomeni comes to collect the souls."
Grievous was not blind to the ironic tone in his voice. Neither did he neglect his request.
"What of—"
"The Techno Union has been safely escorted to Nelvaan. And our attention is required elsewhere. He will carry out my designs for Ryloth. Now, we must make our way to Falleen, posthaste." He scowled, "I would have business with their king."
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Diomeni withheld a yawn, "It's a shame I can't watch the fool brought to his knees. I'm sure Zineva would cherish the moment." he sniffed, "Oh, well. Business before pleasure."
Dia couldn't believe that she was coming back to Ryloth. Once, the ship she was imprisoned in was enveloped in darkness, but now the planet is fully displayed in a way that befits a conqueror. Now, she sees Diomeni, his handsome face eager with a ravenous hunger she had only seen when he, Carmine, and herself had… Her face heated up. Diomeni sensed this and brought his face closer.
"You used to be a slave," he whispered, "And now, you'll be a conqueror. Doesn't that water your mouth…as much as I do?"
Dia leaned into him, less by his words and more by the pure weight of everything. Ryloth, her freedom, the word conqueror in place of her title as a slave—it was all too surreal.
"It will take time, of course," Diomeni smiled, and so did the women, " and there will be pieces you must lift and sift through if you want your fruits, but—"
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"It'll be worth it!" Anakin emphasized.
"With respect, Sir," Appo said, "you should probably conserve your energy or however this Jedi stuff works."
Anakin growled, "My Master and my friends are out there! I can't just sit around, floating in a tin can doing nothing!" Anakin grabbed his forehead, reminding himself not to crush his face with his metallic arm and kicking himself for forgetting that Obi-Wan wasn't his master anymore.
"Lad," Kilian says, standing up, "I realize I speak as a non-Jedi and may be unimaginative with your abilities, but oftentimes, we are reminded of how little control we have over the cosmos. I'm just as angry as you, and I want," Kilian's face darkens, "nothing more than to see the murderer of my crew beaten and broken."
Anakin's mood dropped, his face set to the blackness of space, analyzing every piece of debris floating around. Kilian couldn't see his face, but he imagined it as something like thunder. Perhaps like a cloud brewing or a volcano simmering. Yet, Kilian pressed on.
"But you must keep your heid!" He pressed a hand on his shoulder, Anakin's face in the dim reflection poking out like a phantom, "You need to be angry? Save it for the enemy. If and when they come for us."
Anakin turned around and saw Appo removing his helmet. The cold facsimile face of Jango Fett staring at him.
"I agree with the Admiral, Sir." Appo said, "Let's save it for the enemy. Put a blaster in my hands, and I'll see that the enemies of the Republic are eliminated."
Anakin held their gazes, then sighed. The staleness of the pod still set his nerves crackling with anxiety, and he was nearly sick of it. But he was not alone. This feeling of powerlessness is something he has not missed. And perhaps it's because the company should have pushed him harder to try harder and save everyone. But for now…
"Guess you're right," he said, sitting with Kilian beside him. "I mean, pushing or pulling this pod closer to anyone else? In space?" He chuckled, "Obi-Wan would berate me for such a cavalier idea.
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"This idea is so cavalier," Obi-Wan strained, "but it's better than nothing. Ready!"
Ovi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Zakriahs stood together, heads bowed, arms mimicking a pushing and pulling motion. Rex sat back, watching with interest but also feeling dead weight. The pod hardly vibrated anymore, but he didn't complain as the pod moved with smooth, jutting bursts like a diver propelling himself underwater. However, Rex also had been deprived of anything a Clone could do to help. The three Jedi made no sound as they moved the pod; time passed as Rex continued to call out that there were no signs of life anywhere. It was the least he could do, using his Alpha Class helmet to scan for information. So far, the only bits of information he acquired are Debris, Pipe, Scrap, Dead Trooper, etc. Rex's sinking feeling crept in again, and he could imagine Sho and Dar, the two other Troopers, could relate. The stale air of fear and an enclosed space only festered this feeling.
"Alright, stop," said Obi-Wan, and the two Padawans gasped, immediately plopping down on the ground or the seats.
Zakriahs began to laugh, a breathy staccato with a pig snort. Rex almost chucked at the sound.
"What?" Ahsoka asked.
"Just," Zakriahs said, breathing, "feels like we're pushing our cruiser from the biggest ditch ever."
Ahsoka laughed as well. Rex wanted to laugh. Perhaps he needed to—anything to distract him from the circumambient sight of the graveyards they'd been chasing. Rex had heard that Zakriahs had a friend here, walking into Grievous' trap. He wondered what had happened to him?"
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"What is this little Padawan?" said Diomeni. He observed the boy's unconscious form, held protectively under the female Ithorian Jedi's grip. The Ithorian pointed her lightsaber in front of her, daring Diomeni to come closer, cursing the 'Sith' in her native language.
Diomeni mock-gasped, "And all I have is this!"
He brandished a short lightsaber dagger. It was a sturdy piece of metal meant to be used in close combat or stealthily. It made no sound when it was brandished. Of course, Diomeni had his proper blade, but he was compelled to use Nightsister weaponry. Dioemni swept forward; the Ithorian prepared herself, raised her blade, then sucked in a breath and screamed with her four throats. At once, all of Diomeni's allies were blown away by the power of the stereo scream, enhanced by the Force. Diomeni's form became incorporeal to the Master's eyes.
Multitasking, the Ithorian Master scrutinized her surroundings and spun around, still screaming her bellowing scream. Her scream destroyed everything she faced, including the ships, the droids, and the live soldiers, and it pushed back the escape pod. Her Padawan was still held protectively with one arm, and her other arm swung her blade, making contact with the red-haired man's weapon.
Her screaming stopped, and her breathing was dragging, but Diomeni was pushed back, his short blade holding back the longer lightsaber. The Ithorian shifts her stance, Padawan behind her, blade in front, one foot back, and the other forward. She rarely used Makashi in her Padawan days, but needs must, and this 'must' might protect her Padawan. In this stance, she could perform Shiak, one Mark of Contact, to allow her arm to stab; her footwork helped her attack one side while shielding the Padwan on the other. It wasn't perfect, but all she could think of was protecting her Guilo Mar.
Diomeni held a hand upward, likely signifying no one to attack. Then, he pressed forward, driving the dagger, getting closer to her. This pattern of pushing and retreating continued for a minute; the differences in their skills were transparent; even with his dagger, he was better. Eventually, her cluttered, clumsy stance gave way to an opening: Diomeni's arm flashed to the Padawan's head, and in a flash, Guilo Mar woke up, screaming. He convulsed in his Master's arm, and she seized him immediately, the battle forgotten.
She grabbed his face, asked him what was wrong, and saw the fresh marks on his head—five punctures that resembled a viper's. The Ithorian Jedi heard a hiss, and she saw, within Diomeni's forearm sleeve, a golden snake with a prickly head, almost smiling with its forked tongue lapping up and down.
"The Devil's Witness, or the Karu Viper," Diomeni said, "need only use its fangs as a warning. But if it uses its quills with the bite, it's certain death unless," He held up a finger to silence her curses, "I administer the cure, which I will only do if you surrender to my armada."
The Ithorian Jedi stares at Diomeni, trying to eviscerate him with a glare. But she hears Guilo cough. His face becomes paler than she had ever seen, and she sees his black eyes flooded with tears. Suddenly, the Ithorian Jedi calms herself, rests her vocals, and her eyes set on her Padawan's face before she throws away her lightsaber. Two droids rush over and haul her to her feet, as she says in Ithorse to keep his word.
Diomeni walks over, retrieves an injection from his person, then administers the cure into the Givin boy's neck. Guilo Mar's face eases and stops shrinking with pain. His breathing steadies, and then he's out cold. Diomeni compares the boy's face to an elongated skull; death might be too fitting for his kind.
The Ithorian Jedi relaxes, even as binders are placed on her wrists. Diomeni addresses one of his soldiers, wobbling from the soundwaves. Diomeni surveyed the damage caused all around and smacked his lips. Soldiers and engineers quickly regained their bearings, and one approached Diomeni.
Diomeni said, "Get the cleanup crew down here fixing everything as quickly as possible. We must have this hangar pristine. And inform the detention center to prepare two more cells."
"What?" said the soldier, wiggling his finger in his ear.
Diomeni said with slight exasperation, "I said get to work."
"WHAT?"
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"I said there's a ship coming toward us."
Ahsoka shuffled closer to the viewport, a glare settling on her face as a gray Separatist ship advanced on them. Zakriahs had mumbled something about a ship before he shouted in the confined space. The pod's occupants all resembled rabbits clustered at the viewport as the light of the stars and the sun waned away with the growing shadow of the ship.
"It looks like a bident," said Zakriahs, "Like all it's missing is the spear attached."
To Ahsoka's eyes, this destroyer was an immense and heavily armored warship. Ahsoka's studies of ships with her Master led her to suspect the Seps designed them for capital ship warfare. The Togruta could see that it was armed with at least four or six capital ship turrets, with its hull approximating a Munificent-class star frigate and maybe ten or eleven heavy anti-starfighter laser turrets assembled across its hull—the hull itself resembled a two-pronged bident, as Zakriahs said. Ahsoka could see two identical ships flanking it, but they were smaller.
"Maybe they're friendly," said Zakriahs. Immediately, a starfighter zoomed by, and another hovered in front of them, shining lights in their faces. The occupants covered their eyes as the fighter waited two solid minutes before it turned its back to them and fired a line. Then, as the ship flew higher and higher, they pulled their pod with them.
"Zak," Ahsoka said, "can I call you Zak?"
"No."
"Zak," Ahsoka said, brow twitching, "are you actually serious right now?"
"Yeah," Zak stuttered, crossing his arms, "What? D- do you just judge people and things based on their appearance? Pfft, close-minded!"
"Oh, you—I—" She threw up her hands, Rex dodging one of her hands, "Don't turn this on me. We're addressing the stupid thing you said! I mean, what part of this looks friendly?"
"The part where they didn't just blow us up on sight," Zakriahs said, oh-so-condescendingly.
Ahsoka's eye twitched again, "What? You don't think that we're being taken as prisoners where they'll…" Her mind drifted to her Master, wherever he could be out there. She didn't think he was dead but had no way of ascertaining this for certain.
"Yeah," Zakriahs said, "Fill your mind with horrors of what-ifs. That'll do well to your psyche."
"Zakriahs…" said Obi-Wan warningly.
"I'm just saying, the last thing we need is for everyone to go insane with fear!" Zakriahs defended.
"Yeah," Ahsoka said, trying to stem her temper, "maybe you should focus more on yourself."
"Oh, well, that wouldn't be very Jedi of me now, would it?!" Zakriahs said with wild eyes.
Before Rex could stop her, Ahsoka said, "You're not a Jedi!"
"Neither are you!" said Zakriahs, his voice as raised as hers.
"I'm more of a Jedi than you!"
"You don't even know me!"
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"And at this point, I don't think I want to!"
"You're missing out then!"
Ahsoka laughed, "You're not going to let me have the last word, are you?"
"Nope," said Zakriahs petulantly, "after all, I—"
"HEY!"
The Padawans turned to Rex, who nodded to Obi-Wan.
"Thank you, Rex," said Obi-Wan, grasping both Padawans' shoulders. "Look, I know you're both stressed and have no true outlet for it, but," his face became pointed, "Surprisingly, this isn't helping us. Now, I need you both to take a deep breath and relax. Clear your mind off the anxieties."
The Padawans glared at each other before it withered away as they each took a deep breath. Ahsoka felt all her fears toward her Master, her annoyance at this boy, and the unknown ships, and they did not disappear but ebbed away. Wash away bit by bit as waves to do a stone with a stone. Now, Ahsoka opened her eyes and locked them with Zakriahs' blue, and she could tell he felt as ashamed as her, being so petty. They were in this together, and she could tell he was just as scared as her. She remembered Rex's words on Christophsis, Anakin's words on Tatooine, and Zakriahs' words on Coruscant.
And then, Zakriahs opened his mouth:
"Not my fault she's hyper-fixated on a stupid thing I said."
Ahsoka's temper flared again, "Oh, shut up, Zakriahs!"
"You shut up!" He shouted, "Let me get away with my stupid sayings!"
"Oh," Ahsoka bristled, "so you admit it was stupid."
"Yeah, but you did it at the worst tempo and messed up the beat by a wide margin."
A beat.
"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!"
"It means we found our man," said Diomeni, grinning as the Ialdabaoth came closer and closer to a pod. Anakin Skywalker was there. After all the searching and scouring of pods, they'd found the one that mattered.
Dia shifted in place, "But I don't understand. You speak as though this is a rescue…"
Diomeni turned to her, tall and dark-eyed, "My Lover, I am not simply teaching you how to command armies or," he laughed, "how to rip a fool's hair out with naught but a weak grip." He approached her with open and inviting arms. "I will show you how to make the stars tremble in your name."
She slid into his embrace as she stared at his deep, brown eyes—almost pitch darkness, but enough to find her reflection.
"Times have changed," He said, and for the first time since she met him, he looked grave, "and if we want any of our dreams to come true…" He gazed into her soul. It was the only way to describe it. He found something within her that made him smile, and his charismatic demeanor returned. "So, trust me when I say I'm playing a tall game worth tall prizes."
Dia's face meets his for a kiss. They remain like that for some time. Eventually, they separate when Diomeni receives the report that Anakin Skywalker has been found. Diomeni sets Dia down, her face almost hypnotized by the intoxication, but she listens closely. Dia listens to Diomeni sending a discreet order to turn off all security cameras; she hears the order to prepare a cell for the Repulic's star child; and she hears the man leave her alone in the room with the holo-projector.
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"Meeya, my darling," He said to the holographic form of Kara Meeya, "I knew I could count on you for this. The Togruta girl didn't give you trouble, did she?"
"None, Diomeni," she said, holding the girl's lightsaber.
"Excellent," he said, "Remind me to treat you to something lovely, my dear."
"Of course, sir." And she blinked out of sight.
The plan was simple: find Skywalker and turn all factors in his favor so he could heroically escape the clutches of Diomeni. Ensure that security was flexible so the Jedi could wriggle their way out of the trap. What happened next was in Sidious' hands. All Diomeni needed to do now was to put on a good show, rile the man up, and curse him as he descended further into space, back to the Republic. It couldn't be restricted to Skywalker, though. It was a risky move, but too many heads would turn if only all footage with the Chosen One were corrupted. Besides, the Ialdabaoth could benefit from an upgrade. True, the discovery of the Malevolence this early was unprecedented and could have been forestalled, but the fallout from Skywalker's find was Dooku's headache, not Diomeni's.
Though Diomeni held no interest in the haul of potential servants earned from this conspiracy, he decided there wouldn't be any harm in taking a peak. The trip was never dull, even though it could have been, but his soldiers were raucous and exuberant in their jobs. One or two Clone Troopers died along the way, and as fate would have it, Diomeni found Ahsoka Tano kicking one of the guards. Diomeni smacks his lips as he watches her from several meters down the corridor.
Diomeni smiled when they finally contained her and brought her to her cell. The red-haired man continued his trip down the halls, passing by the guards and patting them on their shoulders. He wondered, then and there, why not see what characters he'd find? Perhaps Skywalker's new Padawan, given to him for reasons that continue to elude him, or possibly Master Kenobi should be graced with a visit; years had passed since Diomeni fought those two. Such as it was Kenobi had replaced Skywalker with a new Padawan. He had heard a report of an overly friendly Padawan from his men, so Diomeni figured, why not see how much fear this child was hiding? The tall Diomeni walked through the detention level, past cells with Clones, past Ahsoka Tano's cell, and next to hers was the Padawan of Obi-Wan. Perhaps Tano or Kenobi should come last before he meets Skywalker. Nothing significant could come from this.
Diomeni watched as the doors slid open. At once, Diomeni paused, taken aback at the boy balancing on his head. The boy fell back to his seat, the binders looking awkward on him as he lay on the bed, trying to appear casual. His green eyes scan Diomeni, the silence uncomfortable and unknown. Then, the boy says, "Aren't you a little tall to be an Anzati?"
Diomeni's head twitches, "What?"
The boy nods, "Anzati. You are an Anzati since you look too human to be Rattataki but have a full head of red hair, which appears undyed and naturally lush." He shrugs, cringing slightly, "And pardon me, but is it wise to have a snake crawling through your sleeve?"
Diomeni blinks; his confused and unbelieving eyes are replaced with curiosity, and a smile graces his lips. He holds his hand out as the golden snake with wavy green lines and quill-covered crowned head. The Devil's Witness doesn't hiss, as if it, too, is impressed by this apparent foresight.
Diomeni lets it wrap around his neck, "Evidently, you don't know me."
The boy scoffs, "Is it evident that I only want to know you as the beast who attacked Skywalker on Tatooine?"
Diomeni's eyes shoot daggers at the boy, "I am far more than a mere beast."
"Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that."
Diomeni's brown eyes narrow as the boy rolls his green. "I'd advise you to guard your tongue, boy, or I'll give you something to fear."
Against all odds, fear doesn't cross his face, and the boy rolls his eyes yet again. "Can we agree that I probably shouldn't waste my youth and your long years on pleasantries? Say what you have to say and get out of my room."
"Your room?" Diomeni asks condescendingly but also bewildered. The Witness hisses.
"I'm only repeating what your men said. This is my cell, and it's a type of room; ergo, mine. It's not rocket science."
This logic seemed to make perfect sense to the boy. Diomeni stared at him, rehashing these words in his mind as he tried to comprehend whether the boy was playing him, an idiot or insane. Then again, if a Padawan is acting this confidently and fear isn't secreting from him like sweat from the sun, he must know who he is already.
"...You're right; I should get to my point." He mockingly bowed, "My name is Diomeni."
"Mmhm."
A pause.
"...Well?" Diomeni prompted.
Zakriahs' eyes shift, "...Mmhm, sir?"
Diomeni closes his eyes, inhales through his nose, "...And I'm here with an offer—"
"No."
"Ah!" Diomeni wags a finger, approaching the boy, "Never speaketh too soon! Think carefully before—"
"No."
Diomeni's hands twitched, "I won't be spoken to with such impudence."
"Well…" Zakriahs says, seemingly blind to the tall man just centimeters away from grabbing his throat, "You will, but you'd rather not."
A hand pulls the boy from his collar, lifting him to the wall. The boy gasps as Diomeni explodes, their faces within life-draining distance. Diomeni's eyes are chilled blue, and in the shuddering burst of anger, the boy thought he saw shades of red and green and human tan boil and bubble on the sides of his gray face. The Witness hisses violently, its teeth, and quills a hair's length away from the boy's eyes.
"DO NOT!" Diomeni screamed, then stopped. He held the boy before him, the boy shaking with excitement and… curiosity transiently floating around the room. Diomeni closed his eyes, wiped the droplets of his spittle off the boy's cheeks, and put him down but kept his hand clasped around the cuff of his tunic. Diomeni opens his eyes, brown now, as they stare into green—no, hazel eyes with green flecks. The boy's emotions are behind a wall again, but Diomeni has frequently seen the glint of impish amusement coupled with a mouth of fear. They were present on this boy, whose mouth struggled for a smile.
Diomeni slowly and softly reiterates, "Do not…test me."
"Or what? You'll surgically graft parts of my body to two other victims."
Now, Diomeni is stunned into silence again. He views this boy with a start and nearly loosens his grip. There is fear in his eyes, but now, there is satisfaction and, perhaps, a sense of ecsis— as though a random curio has made its way back into his mind and led him to the worst place possible.
"...It was you." The boy whispers, "From the second you walked in, I knew it was you."
Diomeni releases him, allows him to stand in the center of his cell, and walks around him. Diomeni sees his age, his physique, his guard. Diomeni has seen the strong weathered by time or stagnation before they fell to his might; the boy reminded him of those men, once strong, now idle. But then, how long has it been since someone angered him so…?
Diomeni says conversationally, "As far as I know, no one except those in my circle knows that it was I who punished those hunters. How did you discover this?"
"Punish?" He repeats quietly, incredulously, and angrily, "Punish!?"
Diomeni rolls his eyes, "Oh, you daren't waste any righteous Jedi rage on me, boy. I'm immune to such nonsense."
Diomeni lets the statement sit for a minute; the boy must absorb this. The boy's face appears exposed, broken, and weathered from time, but as the seconds tick, the youth's face seems to repair itself, from different emotions refilling the cracks of his mind. Finally, he appears to Diomeni, resolved and resolute, and the foundations planted deep.
He said, "I had wondered for so long what kind of monster would do such a vile, contemptible thing. I imagined it was someone with a twisted sense of humor, creative, arrogant, and has a message they want the whole galaxy to hear."
"Impressive." That is my image.
"Fine," the boy says with a sigh, "As you say, no burst of righteous Jedi indignation. All I'll say is this: you better kill me now. Because as I grow older, I grow wiser and stronger and faster. As discipline sets in my mind and body, I dedicate my time as a soldier to bringing you down. If you don't kill me now, I will make you regret it."
Diomeni smiled without a trace of condescension. He softly puts a hand on the boy's neck, then pushes him back into his seat with the other.
"You remind me of myself when I was your age, just thirteen, and already, you have convictions set in stone."
"I'm fifteen."
"I don't care, so here's my piece:" Diomeni stands at his full height, vanquishing all emotion from his face and voice until, by this boy's eyes, a corpse full of hunger and lust speaks to him, their faces millimeters apart. "If, by some bittersweet misfortune, you survive what comes next… I will await you, little warrior. But I must warn you, I am beyond a simple beast. You wish to extinguish a flame with a simple water pouch. You hope to pull out the roots of a great forest. You hope to destroy mine, which is the kingdom, the power, the lust, the glory, all for a few hunters you don't even know. I tell you, boy, you must be stronger and faster than even Anakin Skywalker. He doesn't need to fathom what I will bring to this war, and you tell me you will be wise? How can a faceless Padawan ever hope to try?"
Diomeni had used specific words to see what could goad him. Even the Witness tickled his rattled tail to tickle the boy's face. The boy smacked it away, and now, he sensed an underlying anger. But as soon as it sparked, it was tempered and replaced with a cool chill as the boy tilted his head to Diomeni.
"Thank you, Mister Diomeni." The boy said scathingly, "You've given me much to think about. As I've been surrendered to the mercy of complete boredom, I'll just imagine. Can you stop that?"
"Whatever comfort you think you'll find," Diomeni says, "is not worth the pain. Trust me on that."
"You expect me to think there's no hope."
"Oh, there's plenty of hope," Diomeni smiled, "Just none for you."
The cell shut behind him. Enough distractions; it was time for the only one that mattered.
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I waited ten seconds after I was sure the man, Diomeni, walked away. Then another 10. I lost count of how many seconds or minutes had passed. Then, I shuddered and touched my neck. I looked at my hands; they trembled, and I struggled to make fists. I shook them harshly as though any lingering dark side energy could have contaminated me. That wasn't how it worked, but…
He knew how to get me.
I knew I would meet someone like him. After Anakin fought him, it was only a matter of time. But to be that close, and for him to…
He's a genius. He knew how to get me. He's…arrogant.
I took in a breath, chanting softly of peace and serenity. I'm doing that a lot these days, but if it helps against pestilence, plagues, and parasites, it helps. I shake my hand, grip the sleeve of my tunic, and out falls the silver rod. It's a small lightsaber-type weapon with a smaller emitter next to the main one.
I inspect it: the blade is lined with engravings. They are tiny, but they tell a story. The lined figures with exaggerated physical features show a figure with red hair, Diomeni, with raised arms. He stands on the right, and on the left are figures in gold bowing beneath a dais. And there were red figures, crude and wildly conceived, but many resembled different alien species, like a salad of bloodied figures screaming into the air. Behind the red figures, to the left of the rod, were black figures, standing straight with male and female physical traits. They held their hands in reverence as if calling out for the red-haired figure.
"Wow," I said, "what an ego."
I shifted the rod in my hand and found the part I was looking for. I flicked the switch, and a red blade materialized…which was barely a meter long, less like a sword and more like a dagger.
"...There's a joke about compensation here somewhere…but I have too much class." I said, "But it's there…"
So then, I had two options: either I use the tiny blade as effectively as possible to rescue Anakin or Obi-Wan so they could get us out of here, or wait for a guard, and potentially Diomeni, to take this chance out of my hands and condemn me to a life of slavery. One involved a hypothetical defeat, and the other was a certainty. I walked up to the door and shut the blade off. I closed my eyes, feeling my hand across the metal convex door for any weak points.
"What did he say?" I murmured, "Size matters not, says Yoda, but that's only in passing. No, what I need is to find the tiniest chink; the piece of pieces no one thinks about and gets shocked to remember it exists. People have a point, animals have it, and buildings can topple by the tiniest hair. And it's all thanks to the—"
I opened my eyes. Near the right side of the convex metal door, just outside on what could be my left when I break out, the terminal lies next to the door, undamaged. But with this short blade, if angled in the right direction and shoved enough times, I could stab it from behind, frying the circuits and opening the door. I smiled. How I loved finding S—
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"—hatter your face!" Ahsoka growled. The guards, wearing masks that covered their jaws and resembled creatures like akul beasts and taidoras, restrained Ahsoka immediately after this threat. The wrist binders on her dug into her, stinging her and somehow making her hands feel heavier. Ahsoka retched and grunted at the feeling, and the black-garbed guards grabbed her and threw her into the cell, where they promptly laughed and shut the door behind her. Ahsoka bared her teeth and kicked the door after them.
Ahsoka gripped her fists but then slumped and walked to the bench that would serve as her bed. She observed the wrist binders that resembled some mish-mash between branches and metallic bones. As soon as the binders snapped on her, Ahsoka could feel something pierce her skin. And every time she tried to use the Force or attack, they would only laugh as her hands dragged her down.
In any case, the solitude gave her pause. There were droids on this ship, but there were also plenty of organics. These figures were all dressed in two different looks fused together: half-technician jumpsuits with black armor that could be plastoid and half-stylish thugs with long coats, cargo pants, and plastoid boots. But other soldiers were crowding around Ahsoka's pod after they had been brought on board. They had pried open the pod, and Rex managed to shoot at least twenty of them before they overtook him. They all appeared to wear skin-tight candle wax, some with a deep-red hue; others were black with horns resembling Devaronians, while others were hornless with huge head swelling spots. Some were scarlet with long dreads that resembled Kiffar. Some were green, yellowish-green, blue, yellow, and each of them in one way or the other resembled a Duros, Trandoshan, Human, a lumbering Talz, a Rodian— and there were so many of them that Ahsoka decided not to think of them.
Ahsoka, Rex, Zakriahs, and Obi-Wan stood their ground, but the combined swarm of those…whatever they were, the black soldiers, and the droids firing and killing the other two Troopers. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan pushed a few of the candle-waxed people back, but as Obi-Wan stabbed one in the chest, another vaulted over the dead one, forcing the Jedi master to accelerate. Ahsoka was using every trick she knew in what others saw as a flurry of orange and green; the Togruta girl could sense the desperation of the waxed creatures, the lack of fear, the anger. Ahsoka used cho mok, severing the limbs off of them, yet some continued to crawl toward her. By this point, Ahsoka passed them off as Separatist monsters and employed new, more aggressive tactics against these animals. Sai tok, the act of maiming the body in half, was used, and as they circled her, she could see Obi-Wan doing the same.
The creatures were quickly swarming Rex; every time he blasted eight of grappled five, another one took its place. A blast nicked Rex in his shoulder, yet he continued to fight. He retaliated, blasting the droids off the high rails and sending them falling. Eventually, several hands wrestled Rex to the ground. Rex shot one or two, but in the end, the wax-covered creatures grabbed him by his arms and his legs and pushed him to the ground, savagely beating him with wild, uncoordinated blows.
Ahsoka screamed Rex's name and pushed the creatures away with a great Force-push. She sliced through the growing crowd of bodies, and black soldiers began pulling out vibro-blades against her. Ahsoka blocked two blades and pushed these two soldiers away. She couldn't see Obi-Wan, Rex, or Zakriahs. She kept fighting; she had to! The jaw of an akul beast suddenly took over her line of sight, and Ahsoka found herself fighting tooth and nail against a new vibro-blade. The girl thought she could see montrals, taller than hers, until she felt a cut graze her leg, causing her to yelp. A creature grabbed her; she stabbed it. Then, two creatures—animals— pressed black cylinders to her neck and lightsaber arm. Ahsoka's head jerked up, her body twitching violently under the combined shocks. And she was on her knees.
"STAINS!" a voice shouted. And the creatures all halted. "THEIR WEAPONS!" And they moved again.
The multicolored creatures, now identified as Stains, growled and, with no proper organization, retrieved the weapons from Ahsoka and her friends. That's when Ahsoka got a closer look at their faces: they each resembled the porcelain face of a man or woman with robust, angular features. They all growled and spat at each other; if one 'Stain' got too close to one, the other would punch or scratch them in retaliation. Ahsoka involuntarily stepped back as a green one with Trandoshan characteristics yanked her blade out and stabbed one resembling a Duros through the face. The others screamed as they raced toward the one with her lightsaber, and Ahsoka's eyes widened as they each fought to grab it.
The Commander, whose coat resembled a Jedi's robe made of a coarser and durable material that didn't drape over his legs, whistled through his mask of sharp teeth, curved in a smile almost like a Nexu. The woman with an akul beast jaw mask, a dark blue belly beneath a black tank top, and distinct Togruta features, including tall montrals and bruised and scarred lekku, stepped forth and unleashed a visceral roar. The Stains stopped quarreling, quivered under the woman in black clothes with green highlights, and returned to a semblance of organization. This was the woman Ahsoka fought.
The Stains stood ready. The Commander nodded to the Togruta. Then, Ahsoka felt the Togruta's eyes on her. She snapped her fingers, and two Stains grabbed Ahsoka by her arms, placing her restraints on her. Ahsoka cringed as she felt pricks, and her mind halted to a tranquil unease. Her head felt looser than before, but she could see Rex and Obi-Wan being dragged in the same manner as her. The Stains were stripping Rex of his armor, and she could see the other two Clones being dragged against the floor, limp and unresponsive. Ahsoka could sense they were dead.
"Hey!" Rex shouted as his helmet was yanked off, "Where are you taking them?"
"Clones," said the Togruta as she walked toward Ahsoka. "The Prince of Beasts needs Clones." Her voice was deep and potent, with a mid-rim accent; any trace of her native dialect was as lost as Ahsoka's.
"Kara Meeya," the woman said in Togruti, looking down at Ahsoka, "And you?"
Ahsoka managed to say, "None of your business!"
Kara Meeya shook her head, her black eyes peering through the mask and crown, resembling a metallic helmet's remains.
"Just trying to show kindness," she said, no trace of humor. Obi-Wan stood up then, ignoring the shoves from the Stains and the uncomfortable position.
"So," he grunted," It appears we are your prisoners. What happens next?" The Togruta woman walked toward him.
"Well," Kara Meeya said, maintaining eye contact, "Now, is the part where we remove your restraints, give you a nice planet, and let you go on your busy what the hell do you think is next?"
"Yeah, Master!" said Zakriahs, face bruised and lifted by the back of his arms, "You said 'prisoners,' and you wonder what's next? That's like saying, "Oh! A frozen planet! I wonder if I'll freeze!'"
"Now, Zakriahs," Obi-Wan said, face tight, "as you said, appearances can be deceiving."
"Precisely my line of thinking," Kara Meeya said, eyeing the pair, "Increase the pressure on Kenobi's binders."
At once, Obi-Wan recoiled and appeared more withered than before. Zakriahs chuckled nervously.
"See that, Master?" he said, "They're giving you special attention."
"Lucky me," Obi-Wan groaned out.
"Him too," Kara said, pointing to Zakriahs.
"What?!" Zakriahs shrieked, "But I was being nice!"
"And I don't trust nice."
"Oh, that says a lot about…" Zakriahs' words began to slip as he matched Obi-Wan's slumped position.
"Well, Padawan," said Obi-Wan as they carried him away like a drunk, "How does it feel to receive special attention?"
"Shut up, Master…you're a prisoner…" Zakriahs slurred as his captors dragged him similarly.
"Did you have to put up with this Jedi nonsense, Alpha?" Rex murmured as he was dragged likewise.
Most humanoids laughed while the droids looked at each other in confusion and shrugged. The Stains only purred as if fearing the noise. Kara shook her head as she pulled the girl up to her feet.
"Bahko…nah neh nakra," Ahsoka said in Togruti, weakly.¹
Kara scowled. "Nah," she shook her head, "Mi svhau nah neh nakra, tazi tungu." She shoved her to two male guards, dressed like her but with jackets lined with red highlights, "Yeh ba'ehtu sa'togru va sa och du e'dai."²
The Commander laughs and brushes past her as he joins the woman.
"What was that about?" she heard him ask.
"Nothing important," Kara had replied.
And the guards had left Ahsoka here, alone with her thoughts; so engrossed was she that she didn't hear the sounds outside her door until Zakriahs walked in.
----------------------------------------
I destroyed the lock, and the door opened immediately. Ahsoka was lying on her back on the only piece of furniture that wouldn't fool anyone into thinking it was a room, and her eyes widened as I walked to her. I observed her as she asked me questions, appearing no worse for wear, a little bruised, but otherwise still good.
"Did they hurt you?" she asked, giving me pause. I smiled at her.
"Only my pride is wounded," I said, and she scoffed.
"I know the feeling."
I brought out the fire-sword. I'm pretty sure this is a fire-sword, not a lightsaber—cruder and perhaps more brutal but efficient. I sense her question before she asks.
"Later," I said and carefully pulled her arms to me. Slowly, I brought the blade to the binders, and they snapped off with a spark. I grasped her hands gently, "This might hurt a bit."
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Ahsoka watches as Zakriahs brings his hands to hers, then hesitates. They shake slightly, but eventually, he slides his palms over hers, and she looks up. His face is contrite and uncomfortable, but he's clearly trying to be warm and comforting.
"Um," he begins, "so, this might hurt a bit. It's going to leave you a bit dizzy and woozy."
Ahsoka exhales, then puffs her chin, "Go ahead."
Zakriahs inhaled and slowly brought the blade to the binders. Ahsoka noticed the stains of red blood drying on his wrists. Ahsoka felt a sort of thin bump in her wrists, and she cringed as the binders clattered on the ground and something warm trickled down her hands. Zakriahs picked up the binders and showed their tiny hook-like needles that barely looked long enough to have felt as they did.
"These must be," He said softly, "some kind of neuromuscular agent that taps deep into the brain."
Ahsoka groaned, massaging her wrists, "Sounds and feels inhumane. Sounds very Separatist."
She tried to walk forward, and before her legs gave out, Zakriahs caught her and carefully guided her to the seat.
"Hey," he said, "what'd I say about woozy and dizzy?"
"I don't know," she groaned, stretching slightly at the numbing vibrations from her arms traveling through her body, "Something about…rhythm and stuff."
"I wasn't delirious after I cut mine," Zakriahs said, slapping his face so as not to go cross-eyed, "Or maybe that's just you."
Ahsoka laughed again as Zakriahs' hands glowed blue over her wrists. She felt ease seep in as the action instantly closed the tiny pricks lining her wrists, and her energy returned to her.
"Force healing?" she said softly, suddenly bashful from this kind of attention, "Zak, it was just a flesh wound."
"Stop calling me Zak," he pouted, "and this is more me making sure I don't have a drunk Padawan ogling over every bright light in front of her."
And like that, the good feeling left.
"Has anyone ever told you your bedside manner is terrible?"
Zakriahs hummed but remained silent. Ahsoka blinked when she realized she was getting the last word. She opened her mouth to tell him when she looked over his shoulder.
"ZAK, LOOKOUT!"
Zakriahs felt himself being pushed out of harm's way and instantly reacted by holding onto Ahsoka before she separated him from her. As a result, Ahsoka's use of Force-push caused them to fly to the right of the cell, and a guard slammed his face into the spot where they were. Ahsoka and Zakriahs separated to see the guard push himself off the wall, groaning and soothing his uncovered human nose.
Another guard stepped in, his skin darker than his counterpart, but both wearing drooping, beak-like jaw masks.
"See, man," the guard at the door said, "this right here is why you don't jump into somebody like you got wings! Cause you're not a real bird!"
The first guard growled, "Oh, go to hell…"
"Don't you 'go to hell' me!"
Ahsoka and Zakriahs stood up as the two continued to argue, looked at each other, and then back to their would-be captors.
Zakriahs said, "Do you two need a room?"
Ahsoka smirked, "Cause we'll be happy to give you this one!"
The first guard looked at them, "Oh, you two think you're frackin' cute!" Then unsheathed a metal sword sparking with electricity.
Ahsoka and Zakriahs flinched when they saw the other guard do the same.
"You guys have vibro-swords!" Zakriahs exclaimed, "That's so cool!"
The second guard leaped toward them, bringing his weapon down, and separating the Padawans. Zakriahs slammed his back against the corner while Ahsoka found herself closer to the seat. Ahsoka's senses flared, and she weaved past the second guard's stab, feeling the blade's electricity send shivers around her body.
The guard's blade found itself jabbed into the wall, and Ahsoka used her agility and small size to jump on his shoulders and slam her foot into his face. The guard fell to the ground, and Ahsoka used this mobility as a turbolift descending. She grasped the blade from the wall, swiftly pulling it free and flipping backward.
The guard got up and saw Ahsoka rushing toward him. Ahsoka pointed it in his face, dangerously close to his eyes. The girl's breath shook suddenly, but she found her voice.
"Surrender," she said, hoping her words sounded more confident than she felt. The guard noticed this, however, and when Ahsoka turned to the sound of Zakriahs yelping, he acted.
While Ahsoka's contest went on, Zakriahs had been defending himself from the onslaught of the guard. To Zakriahs' mind, he viewed the birds(jailbirds, ha!) as something else entirely. He willed the Force within him, his hazel eyes with green flecks scanning the guard, and focused.
The guard brought the sword down to stab the boy; Zakriahs motioned a slap and Force-pushed the blade's trajectory to the right, and when it hit the wall, Zakriahs pushed himself up to kick the man's belly. Then his face. Zakriahs punched it afterward.
"Tch," Zakriahs frowned, watching the guard stumble.
Mask not much for protection; more for show. Doesn't take prison guards seriously? Real soldiers worse? No, later! Weak spots: eyes and arms. Throat? Evaluating.
Zakriahs slammed his left hand into the guard's throat and was treated to the sound of him choking.
Vocal chords paralyzed—no risk of detection. Wait. What if he already called for help? Later.
Zakriahs grappled the man, and struggled to bring him down. So Zakriahs dropped to the floor, slammed his fist into the man's kneecap, breaking it, then he stood and grappled him to the floor. The boy then kicked his foot in the air and slammed his booted heel into the guard's face, a satisfying crunch following. Zakriahs jumped in the air, pumping his fist with a whoo!
That's when Ahsoka looked away. Ahsoka's enemy grabbed the weapon, ignoring the shocks of the vibro-blade and yanking it out of Ahsoka's hand. Ahsoka dodged a kick from the guard, but his second connected, sending her tumbling. The guard turned to Zakriahs and swung his sword overhead, which Zakriahs avoided. Zakriahs ducked and weaved, and he sensed a kick coming in, so Zakriahs tested himself. The high kick came, and Zakriahs grabbed the guard's foot, hopping to be elevated. He put himself in the guard's sight and kicked the man in his face.
The guard collapsed and struggled to regain his senses. In the seconds it took for the man to get up, Zakriahs had noticed a critical pattern in the man's attacks. Zakriahs smiled knowingly, but it disappeared for a neutral expression. With the Force, the weapon came to him, and Zakriahs held it knowingly over the unconscious guard's head. The other guard saw this and visibly bristled. He breathed hard like a reek, huffing and puffing and snarling, baring his teeth covered by a mask. Zakriahs touched the unconscious guard's head with the tip of his blade, stopping the other guard dead in his tracks. The guard looked at Zakriahs, looking sad and drooping with his downward beak mask.
"You wouldn't," the guard said, shaking his head, "You're just a kid!"
Zakriahs said nothing. The guard looked down at his partner and then at the Padawan. His legs appeared incapable of holding still. Then, the guard felt an invisible force shove him off his feet, sending him flying toward Zakriahs. Zakriahs slid under the guard and kicked him under his groin, then as the guard crumpled on the floor, Zakriahs' hands pushed him to flip backward. On his way, he saw Ahsoka Tano flying overhead like trained acrobats; as if in slow motion, they smiled at each other as they were millimeters apart before Zakriahs landed on the guard's back while Ahsoka landed a hard kick into the back of his head.
Zakriahs and Ahsoka waited a few moments to see if he would wake up, and when his high-pitched squeal died down, they relaxed. Both Padawans took a deep breath and then looked at each other. They shuffled their feet like awkward teenagers, ignoring that they were still on top of the guard's body. Then, Ahsoka offered her hand to Zakriahs. After a moment, the boy accepted it with both hands, dropping the vibro-blade.
"Nice!" Zakriahs smiled.
"Not bad yourself," Ahsoka smirked, "for someone who lost to me."
Zakriahs' face became blank. Then, with an inhale and closed eyes, he smiled, "Yeah," and for the first time since Christophsis sounded abashed and inelegant, "I guess I still got it."
"When you say that," Ahsoka chuckled, "you sound older than Yoda."
His eyes flashed playfully, "Hey, I resent—" Then, he slapped his forehead, "Aaah, damn, I'm an idiot!" At her glance, he said, "I probably should have interrogated that guy while I held his buddy hostage."
"Oh…" Ahsoka said thoughtfully before her face set, and she led Zakriahs off the unconscious guard like a dirty rug. She pulled him by his forearm and locked eyes with him.
"Well, you know what I say we should do?"
Zakriahs said, "Are you speaking literally or philosophically?"
Ahsoka blinked, "...Literally?"
Zakriahs shook his head, "I don't know."
Ahsoka shook hers, "Well, I say we—wait, what's philosophically?"
Zakriahs shrugged, "Save the Master and Knight, our men, get off the ship, warn the Republic of Fandyrm, and get out of dodge."
Ahsoka blinked, "Huh. Okay, I guess that was philosophical." She looked straight at Zakriahs, "Look, Zakriahs, I can't remember why we were arguing, and frankly, I don't care right now. How about we just work together and save our friends?"
Zakriahs thought about these words. Then, he said:
"I never liked the name 'Frank,'"
"Oh, for crying out loud—"
"Yeah," Zakriahs exclaimed, "of course! Besides, our Masters will work together a lot, so the least we could do for their sanity is pretend that you're not the team mascot."
After a moment, Ahsoka laughed, "Yeah, and the least I can do is pretend you're not an airheaded weirdo with hair like a thornbush."
"Yeah," Zakriahs said, his smile strained. "And the least I can do is pretend you're not so short you have to scream for me to hear you."
They scowled at each other. Even without the Force, they could tell neither was too serious. The Padawans shared a quick laugh. Now, Ahsoka and Zakriahs, not exactly well-known friends but far from antagonistic or distant strangers, were finally comfortable in each other's presence.
"You wanna get out of here?" Ahsoka asked.
"Yeah," Zakriahs said, pulling the vibro-blades toward them. He offered one to Ahsoka, who eagerly accepted. Afterward, the two Padawans peered out the cell door, wary but ready for what came next.
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Ahsoka and I were not ready for what came next. We ran away immediately.
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Omake 3
Zakriahs typed on his datapad, recounting the events onboard Diomeni's Ialdabaoth. His mind went back to Ahsoka's wrists and put his thoughts down:
I hesitated upon the sight of Ahsoka's wrists. It wasn't the sight of blood; I wasn't squeamish at the sight. And I nearly choked having her that close to me. She was putting trust in me, despite how inexperienced—
He shook his head.
Her trust in me was likely well-founded, considering how skilled I was—
He knitted his brows.
She trusted me, and maybe I was afraid—
Zakriahs put a hand to his face.
I was afraid of failing—
Delete.
—of not being good enough—
Delete delete. Zakriahs blew out air and decided to test himself:
This closeness reminded me of—
Zakriahs slammed the datapad to the ground. He put his hands into his face. His whispers ranged from noises that sounded like growls to groans, words that sounded like emotion and fear, before a mantra of be strong, be strong, be strong echoed for nearly a minute or two. Finally, Zakriahs inhaled, exhaled, and pulled the datapad back to him with the Force. He stared at the screen, noticed no cracks, then continued with his memoirs:
I grasped her hands gently, "This might hurt a bit." Ahsoka nodded, and I got to work.