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Chapter Text

Deep within the cave in the Kaamas lands on Alderaan, Jedi Padawan Jaynah Lonestar held her ground, even as the sounds of battle – primarily blaster-fire and the occasional screams of agony – echoed through the tunnel.

Every instinct in her body practically cried out to her to run towards the fighting. Her fellow defenders – two more Padawans, Samus and Ghabi. along with a platoon of soldiers from House Organa – were in combat with some unknown invader. They were in danger. Perhaps they were wounded or even killed.

But Jaynah gritted her teeth and stayed at her post. Master Inul’s instructions had been quite strict: She was to protect the master commlink console hidden within the cave, serving as the final line of defense. They had all known that an attack was possible. The cave, after all, was less than a kilometer from the Palace of House Thul, the Sith Empire’s proxies on Alderaan. House Organa, given their long-standing loyalty to the Republic and friendship with the Jedi order, had setup this hidden encampment with Jedi assistance, using it to conduct operations against the Thuls and their Imperial masters. The console behind Jaynah was essentially the lynchpin of their plans and could not be allowed to fall into enemy hands. It would remain safe so long as it remained undiscovered.

Evidently, that was no longer a possibility.

Jaynah wished Master Inul was with them right now, and not back at Organa Palace, advising the Duke. She had sent Inul the emergency message as soon as the attack had started, but she knew it would be awhile before help arrived. Whatever was going on in the outer chambers of the cave, things did not seem to be going in favor of the defenders. Jaynah glanced around herself, trying to remain calm. The chamber she was in was the end of the lit tunnel. Even if she had wanted to retreat to safety, it wouldn’t be an option for her at this point.

Sensing a dark presence finally approaching her position, Jaynah ignited her brilliant green lightsaber – taking comfort in the light it cast in the dark tunnels - and prepared to do battle.

There is no emotion, there is peace. Jaynah mentally recited the first line of the Jedi Code, as Master Inul had taught her.

Jaynah and her fellow Padawans had known an excursion by House Thul troops was certainly possible. It was likewise a possibility that Imperial commandos – so-called “military advisors” – would be the ones to find them here. It was even possible, if the Organa defenders and their Jedi protectors were very unlucky indeed, that the Sith themselves might attack them here, a thought Jaynah did not relish, and made the hairs on her neck stand on end. Nevertheless, she felt prepared.  

But the creature who rounded the corner and emerged from the tunnel was a nightmare almost beyond description.

It was massive, standing well over two meters tall, so towering that it had to duck its head until it stepped fully into the chamber. It was humanoid, but only barely. Powerful muscles adorned its nearly bare body, as wore only a primitive loincloth. Its skin was dark and scaly, best described as reptilian more than anything else. Its face was twisted; all sharp fangs and red eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the cavern. It carried a massive vibrosword in a single hand, and the weapon dripped with the blood of victims already dispatched.

As a Jedi Padawan, Jaynah was familiar with dozens or even hundreds of species. She had never seen anything remotely like this.

But it wasn’t its appearance that chilled Jaynah’s blood. Trying to gain a sense of the monster through the Force, the creature seemed to resist her attempts.

No. Jaynah realized to her horror. It wasn’t resisting me. It was resisting the Force itself.

Just looking upon it felt so wrong.

It was at that moment the beast let out a roar from its mis-shaped mouth and charged her.

Jaynah had always prided herself on her combat ability with her lightsaber. Inul and her other masters had praised her talent, and she had always been confident that she could defend herself and others. That was largely why she had been chosen to protect the communications array.

She was a Jedi. She wouldn’t give in to fear.

She met the monster’s charge, her lightsaber meeting his vibrosword. She barely blocked his first attack; the creature’s strength was immense, and his blade held up against her saber. Most likely, its alloy was woven with cortosis metal. Again and again, their weapons met. She had initially been hoping that while it clearly held the advantage in strength, that perhaps she held the edge in agility, speed and skill.

That hope was rapidly fading. The monster was at least as quick as she was, and far more vicious.

Jaynah inevitably started to give ground.

The monster was relentless. It had the advantage, and it plainly knew it. It didn’t even need both hands to manipulate the sword it wielded. More, it seemed almost elated at the fight. If its twisted mouth could even form a smile, she suspected it would be grinning. Jaynah felt herself starting to tire, as she expended more and more energy just to hold it off.

Then she felt the cave wall behind her. She had run out of room to fall back.

Jaynah’s stoic resolve only slipped for a fraction of a second from the distraction. But that was all the opening her opponent needed.

Letting out a growl, their weapons locked together, the beast reached out with its enormous free palm, grasping Jaynah’s hands as they clutched her lightsaber hilt. In a single motion, they slammed her hands and her lightsaber against the rocky wall of the cavern.

Jaynah let out a cry as the bones in her right hand shattered, the damaged lightsaber shutting down and falling from her grip. She fell to her knees as the monster let her drop, clutching her wounded fingers gingerly. She glanced upward, watching the creature raise its blade to finish her off. Wounded and exhausted, she was unable to gather the Force to defend herself.

She was finished.  

With the last of her strength, Jaynah managed to turn out the pain and fear of what was about to come.

“There is no death. There is the Force.” She recited the final line of the code, bitterly. She hoped it was so.

Just then, a clear voice called out from the tunnel.

“Khem! No.”

The monster – did the voice call it a Khem? – froze in mid-stroke, its blade mere inches from Jaynah’s lithe neck.       

Its massive head turned to look behind it and it growled in frustration, saying something in a language she didn’t recognize. It was only then that Jaynah managed to look past it and catch a sight of the one who had commanded it to freeze.

She saw a man step into the chamber, one with a slight build and long dark robes that fell to his ankles. His face was concealed by a strange and foreboding skull-mask that enclosed his entire head, complete with a metal face plate and what appeared to be breathing slits around the mouth and nose. It effectively concealed his eyes as well as any other feature. The dark robes he wore covered his entire body but did not appear to restrict his movement. He wore a utility belt around his waist, not unlike Jaynah’s own, with a lightsaber clipped to it.

Even if she didn’t feel him through the Force, she’d know immediately that he was a Sith.   

“You heard me, Khem.” The Sith spoke sternly, his words slightly distorted (and perhaps more menacing) through the mask. “She is defeated. Now stand guard, please, in case one of those Organa commandos turns up behind us.”

Reluctantly, the monster stepped away from Jaynah, letting out a low growl as it passed the Sith. It finally came to a stop several meters away, effectively blocking the cave tunnel. The Sith simply sighed, making his way to where Jaynah was still sitting. Despite the Sith standing directly in front of her, the young Padawan found herself starting to breathe again.

“I must apologize for Khem.” The Sith spoke casually, crossing his arm an offering her a courtly bow, the kind that she had seen used in Organa Palace. “In his defense, he waited literally thousands of years to terrorize and consume Jedi again. Really, he’s quite famished.”

Jaynah glared up at the Sith, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

“You’re going to kill me.”

The Sith made a sound through the mask, and it took Jaynah a second to realize he had clucked his tongue in a ‘tisk tisk’ reproach.

“Use your reason, Padawan. If I had wanted you dead, I would have allowed Khem to finish you off.” The Sith’s tone almost sounded mirthful. No doubt he was mocking her.

Jaynah bit her lip, her brow furrowing.

“Then you’re going to take me prisoner. Interrogate me and torture me for information, then try to turn me to the dark side.” She felt her resolve start to grow as she convinced herself of the situation. She had to show him she wasn’t an easy mark.

“I won’t break.”

“Really, is that what I’m supposed to do?” the Sith tilted his head at her. “I suppose many Sith might attempt such a thing. But I’m not them, and even if I were, I’m on something of a schedule. Appearances to the contrary, my primary purpose here is not to assist House Thul in their local affairs. I was unfortunately compelled to aid them by a rather demanding Moff. All very tedious, you see. Alderaan is a pleasant world to visit, I’m sure, but I’m here on business. Anything that extends my stay on this world longer than necessary is interfering with my goal.”  

Jaynah still wasn’t sure if she could believe anything he said. He was probably trying to manipulate her. The masters had always warned her about that. Still, while he was speaking, he wasn’t causing harm to herself or others. Her hand was still a mess. She’d been trying to use her Jedi training to deal with the injury, but the most she’d managed so far was to ease the pain. She needed more time.

“Then why are you on Alderaan?” she asked.

“Ah, now. That would be telling, Padawan.” He seemed amused. “Suffice to say that which I seek has nothing to do with the Jedi, your Republic or the conflict for Alderaan.”

He was trying to persuade her of his intent. But why?

For the moment, another thought was gnawing at her.

“Did you kill the others?” she finally asked.

“Hmm? Oh, your friends outside.” The Sith glanced back out the tunnel where his monster was still brooding. “Well, I’m afraid Khem got to your Nautolan before I could intervene. Far from sating him, it merely stirred his hunger, hence he sought you out.” He paused and she wondered if he was going to taunt her somehow over Ghabi’s death. Instead he surprised her. “I regret the loss of her life.”

Jaynah’s eyes dropped in sadness. She’d only known Ghabi for a few months, but she’d been a good friend.  

“Regarding the lovely blonde human, she is merely unconscious. She suffered a minor concussion when I Force pushed her into the cavern wall, but I then ensured she would suffer no greater damage. That’s why my dramatic entrance was delayed.”

“As for the Organa troopers, they either fought to the death or fled on foot.” He sighed regretfully. “Apparently, many people have second thoughts about surrendering to a Sith.”

“The Sith have no one to blame but themselves for those ‘second thoughts’.” Jaynah snapped at him impetuously.

The Sith simply tilted his head at her. “Perhaps it is so.”

The admission took Jaynah by surprise. She grew quiet, trying to determine how to proceed from here.

It was the Sith who finally broke the silence.

“You were brave to stand up to Khem for as long as you did.” He said.

Much to her own surprise and embarrassment, Jaynah felt her cheeks turn red at the compliment. She bit her lip again, not trusting herself not to say something foolish.

“Yet you didn’t come when you heard the fighting.” He observed.

Jaynah turned away in shame. Rationally, given how easily she had been defeated, she doubted her presence with the others would have been enough to turn the tide. This Sith was obviously very powerful to command the monster who had defeated her, and to dispatch so many soldiers alongside two trained Jedi Padawans. Even though she knew she shouldn’t have felt any need to justify herself to him, she couldn’t quite restrain herself.

I had orders.” She said finally, stung by her failure. “To stay and protect the commlink at all cost.”

“Ah.” The Sith reflected. “I appreciate the sense of prioritization, but strategically, it seems a poor move. Any force strong enough to fight through the other defenders would surely be enough to overwhelm you, no matter how bravely you fought.” He sighed. “Well, don’t worry, Padawan. In my time, I’ve received foolish orders, too.”

Jaynah’s cheeks went red again, this time in anger. “Master Inul is not foolish!” she stammered. “She’s one the wisest masters in the Jedi Order!”

The Sith tilted his head again.

“One of the wisest masters in the Jedi Order commanded three young Padawans to defend a position virtually guaranteed to be attacked, supported by only a handful of Organa troopers.” He reflected, in a tone that managed to avoid sounding insulting. “All while knowing full well that there were Sith, Mandalorians and other Imperial troops nearby who might be called upon to lead the attack on said position. Even the Thuls knew full well about this cave; they simply lacked the resolve to attack directly.”   

He paused, letting his words sink in.

“In your master’s defense, I suppose there’s no way she could have predicted that a sole Sith acolyte would have a dashade shadow assassin at his command.”

Jaynah had, by now, turned away again. The Jedi had always taught her to process information free of emotions, and she was having difficulty rejecting his words out of hand. Her mind had noted what he had called Khem; a ‘dashade shadow assassin’. She’d never heard of one of those. Maybe if she saw Tython again, she could look them up in the Jedi Archives.

For the moment, she had greater concerns.

“Did you really help Samus?” she asked quietly, still concerned for her friend.

The Sith nodded.

“She’ll have a bruise on the back of her head for a few days, but otherwise she’ll be fine. I gave her a mild sedative after healing her. Nothing nefarious, I assure you. I simply didn’t want her interrupting me before I left.”

Jaynah blinked.

“You … healed her?”

“I did.”  

“Why?” Jaynah stammered. “How?”

The Sith tilted his head again. She imagined he had an amused expression on his face behind his mask.

“Well, first as to the ‘why’, I healed her because her death or permanent damage would not have served my purpose, as I see it.” He sounded very much like one of Jaynah’s early teachers on Tython, patiently explaining an abstract philosophical concept. “As to the ‘how’, well, I must admit that the dark side is sorely lacking in healing abilities. But I do not limit myself to those skills taught by my order. In my travels, I have learned all knowledge is worth having.”

Jaynah tried to wrap her mind around what he was saying.

“But I didn’t think Sith could use light side abilities.” She protested.

“Oh?” he asked. “Does that mean Jedi never call upon dark side abilities?”

“Of course they don’t!” she exclaimed defensively.

The Sith didn’t say anything to that, just continuing to look down at her. Jaynah wondered if he was raising an eyebrow at her beneath his mask or making some other incredulous expression. She suddenly wished she could see his face so she could at least try to read his expressions.

She felt young and foolish. Blast him.

“I mean, I know some Jedi have… stumbled from the path…”

“Exactly.” The Sith opened his hands wide, as if pleased she had arrived at the point. “They made a choice to use an ability not normally endorsed by their Order. Usually while in a state of emotional distress. Likewise, I can generally only make use of healing abilities when in a state of relative calm.”

Jaynah reflected on that.

“Don’t your Masters object?” she finally asked.

“Well, my current Master is, perhaps, more open-minded and results-oriented than some. But the simpler explanation, my dear Padawan, is that people can’t object to something as long as they don’t know about it.”

“Oh.” Jaynah was certain that this was the strangest conversation she’d ever had. If she lived to see tomorrow, she’d have to meditate on this to process everything.

The Sith meanwhile, dropped to a knee, allowing her to look at him levelly.

“Here. Give me your hand.” He reached out an open palm.

Jaynah’s defenses suddenly raised again as she pulled away from him, wrapping her broken hand into her robes.

“Why?” she asked defensively, distrust apparent in her eyes.

The Sith paused at that, letting out a slow sigh.

“Because there is nothing I could do to harm you if you gave me your hand that I can’t do to you without it.” He finally said. “So really, you have nothing to lose.”

She tried to find some fault with his reasoning but couldn’t. She was wounded, weaponless and outnumbered. It galled her, but she wasn’t in a position to stop him from doing anything he chose to do.

Slowly, she reached out her broken hand.

He took it into his hands with surprising gentleness, slowly, tenderly extending the broken fingers.

Then he began. Jaynah could feel his concentration as the Force slowly emanated from him, jump-starting her own natural healing process.

Within a minute, it was done.

“Here. Try it now.” He said, releasing her hand.

Slowly, Jaynah took her hand back, testing it and flexing her fingers. It was still sore but was certainly mended.

“I… thank you.” She finally said.

“You are welcome.” He replied. “Would you like to stand?”

Jaynah was suddenly quite aware that she’d spent several minutes now sitting on the floor of a rather dirty cave. She felt self-conscious.  

“Yes. I would.”

He rose to his feet, then offered her his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she accepted it, and he helped her up.

The Sith released her hand, and she swallowed nervously.

“What now?”

“Well. Are you going to try and interfere with my business with that commlink console?”

Jaynah shifted her feet. She felt stiff and was trying to resist the urge to stretch. She wondered if he was teasing her.

“You know I can’t stop you.” She said quietly. It hurt to admit that out loud.

“That’s not what I asked you.” He replied.

She looked up at him, now almost sure he was teasing her.

“I won’t.”

“Thank you.” He bowed at the waist, then turned towards the console.

Here it was. He had turned his back to Jaynah.

She considered striking out at him through the Force. She didn’t think for even a moment that she could beat him; much less the dashade still standing nearby. But maybe she could stop him from retrieving the data he wanted from the commlink, perhaps by damaging the console. It would go badly for her in the end, she was sure. Death or worse. But she didn’t feat that end anymore. Perhaps she could salvage Organa’s efforts to defeat House Thul on this day.

But she’d promised she wouldn’t interfere, so she didn’t. He proceeded to copy the data.

“To be completely honest with you, Padawan, I’ve found working with House Thul rather distasteful myself.” He spoke candidly even as he worked the machine. “Jorad – their supposed leader and Lord – lacks the intelligence or courage to even deal with the problems in his own backyard, much less bring peace and stability to an entire war-torn planet. He requires constant hand-holding just to keep afloat.” He clucked his tongue reproachingly again. “Still, all of us are asked to do things we find distasteful, yes? Especially in times of war.”  

With the information downloaded to a datapad, he turned towards her. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “I think I know what you mean.”

“Well then, that appears to be that.”

She couldn’t let the burning question go unasked.

“Why did you tell me all of this? Why are you being kind to me?”

The Sith tilted his head again.

“For two reasons, really.”

“First, I would like for you to convey a message to your masters. As I told you, my business on Alderaan concerns neither the Jedi nor the Republic. I have no interest in the struggle for this world. I was drawn into this minor operation against my will, and I plan to avoid all this going forward.”

“Please tell them all of this going forward. Please tell them I don’t care about your Order or the conflict between the dark and the light. I simply wish to go about my business in the galaxy. As long as they don’t interfere with me, I will attempt to not interfere with them.”

She nodded slowly. “I’ll deliver the message… there was a second reason?”

He tilted his head.

“Honestly, I never get a chance to actually speak to a Jedi. Usually its all lightsabers and lightning storms and Khem trying to eat people. It was enlightening to actually speak to one of you without all of that unpleasantness.”

“I… okay.” She finally answered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for listening to me prattle.”

“Just… one more question?” she finally asked.

He made a sound that she suspected was a chuckle through the mask. “Alright.”

“Why do you serve the Empire?”

He tilted his head. “Why do you oppose it?”

“Well, because it makes war.” She offered.

“As does the Republic.”

“Because it seeks to destroy everything we value, our way of life.”

“Based on our history recordings, the Republic has successfully driven the Sith and their empire to the brink of destruction on multiple occasions over thousands of years.”

“Then because the Sith are slaves of the dark side.”

“And the Jedi are slaves to the light.”

She felt frustration building up. She knew the Sith Empire was wrong, but she had a hard time forming arguments to that effect at this moment.

“Because the Empire enslaves alien species.” She finally offered.

That gave him pause. He said nothing for a long moment, then he finally reached up behind his mask and carefully undid a latch.

He took the mask off.

Beneath it, a blue face looked back at her, with red eyes and jet-black hair. He was heavily scarred, with lacerations criss-crossing across his cheeks; clearly this was a man who had faced considerable abuse and even torture in his time. She was surprised at how young he appeared; he was only a year or two older than she was. She had the strange thought that he was rather good-looking, despite his scars. (She quickly banished that thought.) Still, the face was somehow rather friendly and pleasant.  

He smiled at her.

“You’re a Chiss.” She said in surprise.  

“So I am.” He answered. “My own people exiled my family and I when I was a child, through no fault of our own. My mother was taken from me, and later my sister. The Empire branded me a slave, its true. But no Jedi arrived to free me from my servitude, or from the pains fate had in store for me.”

“It was the Sith who freed me, my dear Padawan. The Sith offered me the chance at the power to seek my own destiny. Whether that chance proves to be an illusion or no, a Sith is what I am. The dark side gives me strength, it’s true. But I have my own goals, my own dreams, my own ambitions. And my actions are taken according to my own choice.”

“When I meet my end, as we all must, I will do so as a free man.”

With that, he moved to put the mask back on, securing it tightly around his head. Jaynah was left in stunned silence.

“Neither of us can be sure whose reinforcements will get here the fastest. I would suggest that I leave here first, then you wait two minutes before following.” His voice was once more filtered through the mask. He paused then withdrew a stim-pack from his belt. “This should be enough to get your friend on her feet, at least. You can use her lightsaber in case you are attacked before Organa comes for you.”

“Thank you.” She offered sincerely.   

“You are welcome.”

He turned to depart. The dashade, looking terribly bored by this point, moved to follow him.

“Wait!” Jaynah called out.

The Sith turned and regarded her.

“I… I don’t even know your name.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “My name among the Chiss I’ve long since abandoned. I call myself ‘Ozibamnu’ now.” he paused. “You may call me ‘Ozi’, if you wish. That is what the pirate who pilots my ship insists on calling me.”

Jaynah thought for a moment.

“Thank you, again. Ozi.” She finally said, giving him the bow of a Jedi Padawan. “My name is Jaynah. Jaynah Lonestar.”

He bowed in turn.

“Jaynah. That is a lovely name.”

Jaynah felt some of the pink returning to her cheeks.

“May the Force be with you, Ozi.” She said finally.

“And may the Force serve you well, Jaynah.” He answered.

With that, they parted company.

END

Chapter Text

Author’s Notes : I am not conforming to the norms of Chiss aging in my head-canons. For the record, Ashara is 21, here, while Ozibaumnu is 22.

“My lord… may I ask you a personal question?”

Ashara Zavros, Jedi Padawan, spoke even as she continued to trudge a few steps behind her ostensible master, Lord Kallig, across the icy plains of Hoth. The two were heading back to their shuttle at Dorn Base after successfully seeking out the Force ghost of the ancient Sith Lord Horak-Mul and persuading him to allow himself to be bound to Kallig. All this with the ultimate goal of challenging Darth Thanaton, who had been hounding Kallig, Ashara, and their crew for as long as Ashara had been with them.

Hoth was barely habitable; it was essentially a freezing orb of snow and ice floating in space. Fortunately, both Ashara and Kallig were well-dressed for the frosty climate, wearing heavy cloaks over their normal robes and thermal garments beneath. Kallig – with the customary generosity she’d come to expect from him – had even provided her with thermal sleeves for her lekku and montrals. She couldn’t imagine where he had come by the garments that seemed to fit her perfectly and were clearly designed for a Togruta like herself. (Perhaps he had met a synthweaver in all his travels?) Regardless she was grateful for the protection and touched by his attentiveness.

The cold had proven to be too much for their speeders, so they’d ultimately been forced to park them a few kilometers short of the base and were now heading the rest of the way on foot.

(Tauntauns would have been more practical, Ashara knew. But the smelly, hairy beasts bothered her and even Lord Kallig hadn’t been keen on them.)

Kallig paused in his step and turned towards Ashara. He was still wearing his black and silver skull-mask, one Ashara now knew was the legacy of the infamous Kallig bloodline. The mask gave him a foreboding look, an appearance that he’d carefully cultivated, he’d later confided to Ashara. Allies and enemies alike responded more promptly – and more predictably – to the mask than to the Sith Lord’s actual face. Most who encountered him knew him only by his growing reputation; the man beneath – a relatively young Chiss – was ‘unimportant’ in the grand scheme of things, he’d claimed.

(This was especially important, Ashara noted, considering Chiss serving in the Sith Empire often faced considerable prejudices, even those among the Sith.)

Ashara, personally, much preferred him without the mask.

“Only if you promise to remember that you don’t have to call me ‘my lord’ when we’re in private, Ashara.” Kallig’s tone was gently teasing, and she could almost feel his slight smile behind it. “Call me Ozibaumnu, or you could even follow Andronikus’ lead and call me ‘Ozi’, if you like. Its only in front of others that we need to worry about titles and formality.” He gave her a casual shrug. “Such things are quite important among the Sith and Imperials.”

She was touched by his consideration, but she didn’t fail to observe that although he nominally served the Sith Empire and was a Sith himself, he didn’t personally identify himself as an Imperial.

That is an important distinction. Ashara observed, filing that nugget of information away for later.

“Okay. Ozibaumnu.” she gave him a hopeful smile. “I was just wondering… what does a Sith Lord who isn’t committed to the dark side do for fun?”

He’d turned towards her fully now, his head tilting to the side. He had shown her a great deal of patience thus far, arguably far more than her old Jedi masters had. Ashara couldn’t imagine asking that kind of question to Master Ryen or Master Ocera. Indeed, it wouldn’t have ever occurred to her to do so.

But Lord Kallig was different. Different than the Jedi. Different than Elios Maliss, that Sith acolyte on Taris, and different from ever other Sith she’d met since then. Different than how she ever imagined a Sith Lord ever could be.

Different from anyone who Ashara had ever met, really.

“Fun, hmm?” he queried.

“Yeah. Fun. You know. For recreation. For enjoyment. Just… you know… fun.” She emphasized. How could she explain the concept of fun to someone who she was starting to suspect had never experienced it?

Lord Kallig seemed to be chewing something over. He finally reached up and undid the clasp on his mask, pulling it up and over his head.

Ashara had seen only two examples of Chiss in person before she’d met Ozibaumnu, and both had been allied with the Imperial military, seen from a distance. After she’d joined the Sith’s crew, she recalled finding his red eyes unnerving at first, but she had become much more comfortable with them over time. The stark contrast of the red against his dark blue skin was rather exotic. His face was heavily scarred; Ashara knew the marks were from his years as a slave but had never pressed him on the details. (She imagined the stories must have been horrifying.) Still, she privately admitted to herself that his high cheek bones and raven widow’s peak hair were not unattractive. When she’d first met him, of course, he had been wearing his Kallig mask and from the way he talked, she’d imagined him being … well, much older than he was. Later, when he’d revealed his actual face back on his ship, it was only then she realized first that he was Chiss and second that he was only a year or two older than she was.

Ozibaumnu often seemed a completely different man to Ashara in private. Or without the mask. Or when she thought of him as ‘Ozibaumnu’ and not ‘Lord Kallig’. She was only now starting to understand that he needed to put on the show of being a ‘dark and imperious’ figure to discourage other Sith and Imperials from targeting him or his crew. This was the culture of the Sith Empire as it existed, and it was a culture that Ashara hoped Kallig would someday overturn.

Now free of the mask, the Sith Lord exhaled slowly into the cold, icy air, his breath visible in a small puffy cloud. Ashara recalled that Chiss were naturally adapted to colder climates. Indeed, they’d seen dozens of Imperial-aligned Chiss on Hoth during their time here. Far more than she’d ever seen before. She’d privately wondered why he hadn’t revealed himself as one of them. Shouldn’t he welcome the presence of his own species, after spending so long in the Empire?

“Well, I don’t really know.” He finally said. “I have vague memories of… playing with my elder sister when I was very little.”

His voice grew wistful for the briefest of moments, and Ashara, feeling charmed at the thought of Ozibaumnu as a small child, started to smile.

“I suppose that must have been fun.”

The feeling wouldn’t last.

“When we were separated, however, well, that’s when the Sarnovas bought me.” She could hear the sting of bitterness and pain in his voice. “I had… duties and lessons. I suppose I may have enjoyed some of those more than others. I read extensively in their library when I could find time. And I found great relief with the biochemistry lab, but that was primarily to manage Lady Sarnova’s gardens. I’ve kept that up, as you’ve seen on the ship. I’m even proficient enough now to produce custom stim-packs, and I do find the challenge relaxing.” He paused. “But I don’t think I would call it ‘fun’, exactly. It’s just something engaging I do to keep myself mentally sharp.”   

Ashara felt her heart start to break hearing about the life that Ozibaumnu had led. It was entirely unfair and put the difficulties of her own life into context. The young Sith Lord had turned away from her now, looking off into the distance at one of Hoth’s moons. Though there was still daylight out, night would be falling quite soon. Still, she was hesitant to interrupt him, enjoying this level of openness. There was time.

“It couldn’t have been so different for you, could it?” the Sith Lord asked, turning his head towards her slightly. “The Jedi aren’t exactly known for providing their padawans with a spirited and carefree upbringing.”

Ashara bit her lip at that. She had enjoyed her time as a Jedi, no matter how frustrated she’d grown when she felt like her Masters had been holding her back.

“Well, we were given some free time each day.” She finally said. “To learn or relax however we chose. A few of us watched holovids. Some of the others meditated or studied records on loan from the Jedi Archives. I liked sparring with the others, but none of them could really keep up with me so I usually went exploring outside the enclave where I might run into rakghouls or bogstalkers or some other local predator. I didn’t seek conflict with any of them, but I didn’t back down when they attacked, either.” Her lips twisted into a guilty smile.

“None of them could stop me.” She knew her pride was a weakness, but she couldn’t quite help it. “I guess… I guess it was fun. For me, anyway.”

Ozibaumnu chuckled.

“I believe you. I’ve seen your power and skills first-hand.” He gave her a grin. “You’re a remarkably talented warrior.”

Ashara blushed in embarrassment at the compliment, looking away self-consciously.

“Uhm. Thank you.” She offered lamely. Why did it bother her so much, him seeing her flustered?

Seeming to sense the sudden awkwardness, Ozibaumnu turned away again. Ashara liked that about him. He respected her boundaries and didn’t push when she was uncomfortable with something. He seemed to ‘get’ her in a way other people didn’t.

“Anyway, after I… ‘left’ the Sarnovas’ service, I began my Sith training. I knew full well I was already well behind the other students, and that my Chiss heritage would make me a target for a great many of the acolytes and overseers. I had to work twice as hard and to watch my back. The others took enjoyment from tormenting others or in the failures of one of our fellows. That’s… not something that interested me. So I suppose I didn’t really get to do anything for its own satisfaction.”

He paused and Ashara could have sworn she could feel his mind sort through its memories.

“Since then, well, first I was performing missions for Zash and then since her… transformation, I’ve had to deal with Thanaton. My companions – prior to meeting you, that is – have been a Dashade shadow-killer whose hobbies include ruthlessly devouring Force-users, and Andronikus, who enjoys acts of piracy and games of pazaak. And I can only play so much pazaak. It’s a reasonably engaging pastime, but not something I enjoy in and of itself.”

Ashara had been listening to him talk about his life when inspiration struck her. Noting that his back was still turned to her, she crouched down and put her plan in motion.

“But I’m afraid I’m not very experienced with the concept of ‘fun’. Not in a long time, anyway.”   

He seemed to ponder that reality for a long moment.

“Oh, Ozibaumnu?” Ashara finally asked innocently.

“Yes, Ashara?” he attentively turned back in her direction.

The snowball struck Ozibaumnu square in the chest, crumbling on impact, but nevertheless leaving the Sith Lord covered in a good amount of snow as his startled eyes widened.

Ashara covered her mouth with her hands to smother her laughter, eyes wide with mirth as the Chiss blinked and looked down at himself.

“I’m so sorry!” she cried out, still desperately trying to stifle her giggles, and out of breath. “It’s just… you didn’t know what ‘fun’ was and you were just standing there… and I wanted to show you… I’m sorry!”

She closed her eyes, trying to recompose herself with her Jedi training and utterly failing. Honestly, she was still a little shocked by her own conduct. She’d never in a million years have even thought about throwing a snowball at any of her old Jedi Masters. Plus, she genuinely liked and respected Ozibaumnu. He was intelligent and knowledgeable treated her with respect and kindness and offered her as much freedom as he could. He’d let her express herself and her abilities in ways she’d never been able to before, and as a result she felt she was becoming more proficient at lightsaber dueling with every encounter and was growing far more refined with the Force overall. And what was more he spoke with her, not at her. About the Force, the Empire, the Republic, the Jedi, the Sith… everything. She’d enjoyed it, more than she’d like to admit.

It felt like no one was holding her back anymore. Instead, Ozibaumnu was helping her move forward.

She really should be kinder towards him for all he’d done for her. More respectful. She lowered her hands from her face and sighed, trying to prepare a more sincere – and heartfelt – apology.     

And that was the moment Ashara felt the snowball hitting her in the face.

The Togruta sputtered as her hands brushed away the snow, looking up in disbelief at her assailant.  

Ozibaumnu, the Lord Kallig, Heir to Tulak Hord and the Great Dragon of the Cult of the Screaming Blade, was grinning mischievously at her in an expression Ashara had never seen on his face before. His hand was extended outward, palm-side down. A few inches beneath it she saw a new snowball being formed in mid-air, just out of the reach of his hand, and immediately realized that while she’d been distracted trying to smother her laughter, he’d sculpted the first snowball and had flung it at her just by using the Force.

Now he was plainly getting ready to send another her way.

It was so playful it was almost charming.

She was so startled and then entranced at the sight that she barely had time to duck her head from the second snowball as it flung itself towards her, letting out an ‘eek’ as it narrowly sailed over her montrals.  

She glanced back at him. Ozibaumnu continued grinning and promptly reached out and started forming a third snowball.

Ashara felt a surge of adrenaline as her natural competitive instincts took over. If he was going to throw snowballs at her, she’d defend herself in kind.

She kicked out at the still-forming snowball, then reached down towards the snow to form her own. Ashara knew she couldn’t match Ozibaumnu’s telekinesis or other outstanding Force powers, but she didn’t think he was her equal in physical prowess. She found herself smirking as she hurled her half-made snowball back at him.

The Sith Lord deftly dodged the projectile by deftly turning his body, in an elegant display of an economy of motion. The minimal amount of effort had been expended. Then with a widening grin and a gesture of his hand, the snow all around them started to rise from the ground.

Realizing the danger, Ashara took off, calling upon her Force speed to embark on a dead run away from him almost faster than the eye could follow. She’d realized immediately what Lord Kallig – Ozibaumnu, she reminded herself – was trying to do. She’d just have to be fast enough to overcome it. As she pushed herself, the ground behind her rose in a veritable tidal wave of snow, getting larger and larger as it pursued. Just when it threatened to overtake her, she adjusted her trajectory, evading its path.

The Jedi padawan had been the best combatant in her class on Taris. Maybe one of the best in all the Jedi order. She knew that as powerful as she was, she couldn’t face Ozibaumnu directly like this.

But even as the wave of snow turned and pursued her, she had a plan.

Ashara continued to alter her direction, ever so slightly.

Ozibaumnu was incredibly powerful and intelligent, but if she timed it perfectly, it was just possible she could find the angle to take him unawares. She risked a glance over her shoulder at him and was rewarded with the sight of a still grinning Sith Lord, reaching out with his hands as he guided the ever-growing wave of snow. By now, it was nearly ten meters high and twice as wide. Despite the cold and the speed she was running at, Ashara could feel the perspiration start to build on her brow as she continued to run, still adjusting her angle.

She had never run so fast in her life, but at the same time, it was so exciting.

The shape centered on the Chiss Sith Lord was nearly complete; Ashara was like the free tip of a compass while the wave behind her was drawing the circle.

Just before she reached her starting point – and perhaps seconds away from being overtaken by the wave of snow – she turned her route completely towards him at a hard ninety degree angle and leapt, launching herself towards him with the strength of the Force in a remarkable display of athleticism.

He'd turned towards her, his red, pupil-less eyes wide as they caught hers. She’d have missed the reaction without her Force sensitivity focused so acutely on him. For a fraction of a second, she was certain that her plan had failed, and he would respond with a Force Wave, throwing her back and into a nearby snowbank. Or perhaps he might even lash out with his Force Lightning, which Ashara was certain she could not resist or defend against. Not at this point.  

But the expression on Ozibaumnu’s face was not a grin any longer. Nor was it anger or even shock. His eyes wide as he looked at her with the most serene expression. He looked at peace, with his lips slightly parted as he watched the oncoming Togruta soaring towards him.

This observation registered in Ashara’s mind at the very instant she collided with him, sending both Force users tumbling to the ground in a heap. The Force wave of snow, no longer under the guidance of its master, simply collapsed just short of them, sending up a flurry of flakes.

When the dust settled, Ashara, still breathing heavily, sat up and looked down at Ozibaumnu. He was laying on his back while Ashara was effectively straddling him. The wind had obviously been knocked out at him, but his eyes were still open, and looking up at her.

Ashara swallowed, catching her breath as the feeling of awkwardness set in. “Uhm. You okay?”

He blinked but didn’t turn away. Instead, he just nodded up at her, his eyes still wide and strangely focused.  

Ashara smiled, relived. Then realizing she’d succeeded in her plan, the smile widened into a grin.

“I got you.” she beamed in triumph. It had been the first time she’d bested him in any kind of training.

Ozibaumnu’s didn’t react in the slightest, nor did he move free himself or to push her off of him. In fact, he was only barely breathing as he continued to gaze up at her.

“You’re beautiful.”

The words startled Ashara, as her jaw dropped and her cheeks flushed. He’d always been friendly to her, and they’d even bantered a handful of times. But he’d never said anything to her like that before.

These past several weeks had been a whirlwind for the young Togruta. She’d seen her old masters slain, then had allied with the Sith who’d killed them. She’s left Taris behind, and since then had seen how the growing war between the Republic and the Empire was impacting worlds like Quesh and Hoth. She’d made friends – or at least acquaintances – wish a Sith Lord, a pirate, and a Dashade shadow-killer who was sometimes possessed by a Sith. She had learned new things about herself, experiencing things she’d never imagined and she suspected that her journey of self-discovery was only just beginning. That there were many more lessons ahead.

And as she looked down at his handsome face and felt butterflies in her belly, she wondered if this were one of them.   

The Chiss was still looking up at her, entranced, breathing heavily with his mouth agape. Ashara found herself starting to lean down towards his lips, getting closer and closer…

It was at that point the silence was shattered by a voice that could be heard calling out in the distance.

“My lord!”

Alarmed, Ashara turned towards the sudden intrusion, her hands reflexively going for the lightsabers she kept clipped to her belt.

Rapidly approaching the two from about fifty meters away was a squad of Imperial soldiers, clad in the Empire’s finest cold-weather gear. They were led by an eager man wearing sergeant stripes on his armor, his eyes wide in alarm.

Suddenly very self-conscious of the fact that she was effectively straddling the Sith Lord to whom she owed her allegiance in the middle of a plain of snow, Ashara scrambled to her feet, hastily brushing the snow off her robes. She turned away as her cheeks burned in embarrassment, looking down at her feet. She could only imagine how ridiculous she looked at this moment.    

The soldiers came to a stop a few meters away, the sergeant suddenly uncertain. Each of the squadmates appeared to be surveying the lay of the land.  

“Forgive me, my lord. Dorn Base had a report of a sudden snowstorm… phenomena in this zone. We were concerned you’d been stranded.”  

Ashara remembered that Captain Yudrass of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force now commanded Dorn Base, largely on Lord Kallig’s recommendation. Perhaps these men were here at Yudrass’ request?

Ozibaumnu had, by now, risen to his feet, his back to the soldiers. Ashara watched as the Sith Lord carefully refastened his skull-mask around his head before finally turning to face the sergeant.

“Not at all, sergeant.” Lord Kallig said, his voice once again slightly distorted by the mask. Nevertheless, his tone was clear, firm and commanding. “My apprentice and I were simply enjoying an impromptu training session. But I am most grateful for your concern.”

“Ah.” The sergeant blinked, glancing at Ashara with a nervous look in his eyes and then back to Kallig before swallowing. “Of course, my lord. My apologies. My men and I will return to our patrols.”

Kallig gave a slight nod, effectively dismissing the soldiers. The sergeant gave the order and the men turned westward, back in the general direction of Dorn base.

Finally alone again, Kallig turned to Ashara, his face once again unreadable beneath his mask.    

“That was fun.” He said simply.

Ashara bit her lip at that, and she realized only then that she’d been holding her breath in the presence of the soldiers who had ‘caught’ them. She exhaled, finally smiling softly at him.

“Yes, it was.” She answered quietly.

He gave a nod of his head and she found herself hoping he was smiling beneath the mask.

“Well then. We should get back to it.”

Without another word, the Sith Lord began trekking through the snow, once more headed towards the base.

Ashara watched him for a second, her smile turning into a grin. Then she followed, eager to catch up.

Author’s Notes: Some of my younger readers may not be entirely familiar with how people used to draw precise circles. Now you know. 😉

The Ashara Zavros romance in the SI story can be troubling if not approached from the correct direction. One of my goals with this particular character to explore that romance while avoiding the pitfalls.  

I love the idea of the Sith Inquisitor or the Sith Warrior going through most of the game interacting with Sith and Imperials who are unaware you are not human or Pureblood. Its like they can pull the mask off at any time and say “What did you say about Mirialans again?”

Ozi is not a big fan of the Chiss Ascendancy. They sent his family into exile and to the Empire, and then did nothing after his mother was killed and he and his sister were enslaved. So he’s not a creature of sentiment with respect to his own species. But he was more accommodating with Yudrass, an NPC on Hoth who I found memorable. This might be the beginning of a reconciliation. Frankly, its too soon to say.

Finally – I was originally going to name this piece ‘Snowballs’ but opted to change it to avoid any entendre issues. (Some of y’all have dirty minds.)

Chapter Text

Author’s Notes : Trigger warnings for implied mentions of childhood trauma and abuse. The following chapter takes place sometime between the Belsavis and Voss campaigns during the class story, with mild A.U. head-canons.

Ozibaumnu, the man who had styled himself as Lord Kallig, felt his eyes shoot open in a cold sweat.  

The dreams were getting worse.

No. Not dreams. The Chiss Sith Lord corrected himself. Nightmares.

The technique he had learned from the Holocron that Talos had recovered from Thanaton’s sanctum on Dromund Kaas was accomplishing its intended purpose: It was holding the worst of the ghosts’ interference – he adamantly refused to classify their behavior as hauntings – at bay. But the technique drew upon the dark side in a far more insidious way than he’d ever applied before, and the side-effects were starting to drain his resolve. Fragments of his memories – the worst of his memories – were plaguing his sleep.

Anniann Sarnova. Zash. Padawan Lonestar from Alderaan.

… and the others.

It was less damaging to his mind – to his mental health – than the ghosts were.

But at this moment the dreams were preventing him from getting a good night's sleep. Even with the use of the custom-made depressants he’d formulated in his lab.

The so-called Mother Machine on Belsavis had repaired the damage the ghosts had inflicted to his body. Force willing, that dreaded Rakatan creation would never plague the galaxy again.

But Ozibaumnu’s mind still needed to be healed. And this lead he and his crew were pursuing on Voss appeared to be his best hope.

In the meantime…

He considered heading to his botany lab but rejected the thought almost as quickly. In the months since he’d begun living on this ship, his personal quarters had become a kind of sanctum, one he sorely needed right now. He could have read reports or manuals on his datapad, but these were unlikely to contain information that would comfort him given his present state of mind.

Meditation, then.  

He crossed his legs and closed his eyes. The air on his ship was artificially recycled, and he would have preferred a garden on some green world where the war hadn’t yet touched.

But this would do.

Perhaps.

His mind had just begun processing when he heard the chime at the door to his chambers.

Swallowing, Ozibaumnu rose to his feet hastily, throwing on his bathrobe.

He knew who it was, of course, before he even pressed the button and the door slid open.

Ashara Zavros was at the entryway, an expression of concern on her face as she stood there in her pajama tank top and shorts. Ozibaumnu recalled that he had set the ship’s climate controls to accommodate the Togruta Jedi, even though he himself (and most of his crew) preferred cooler temperatures. But she had obviously come straight from bed and looked rather cold to him, a reaction that made him uneasy for her well-being.

He must have been distracted by her appearance, as she started to speak before he could.

“My Lord, is everything alright? I felt a disturbance…” Ashara’s voice trailed off as she regarded him.  

Ozibaumnu understood what must have happened to have woken the Jedi from her slumber. He refused to acknowledge the why of it, but he couldn’t deny the bond that he’d formed with the former Padawan since she’d joined his crew.

A Force bond.  

“It was just a bad dream, Ashara.” He managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Its nothing for you to worry about.”

She wasn’t listening.

Disoriented as he was, it took Ozibaumnu a moment to realize what had drawn her attention. In his haste to don a robe, he’d left his bare chest exposed.

Ashara was staring.

“Your scars…” she whispered, reaching out a hand towards him.

As her fingertips touched his torso, Ozibaumnu felt like an electric charge was suddenly coursing through him.

Ashara was gently tracing his scars – a lingering reminder of Ivatho Sarnova’s shock whip – and his body had frozen up with tension. Indeed, he had surprised himself by not flinching at the contact.

He detested being touched.

His rational mind knew that this condition was a result of his experiences as a slave of the Sarnovas years ago on Ziost.

Psychologically, however, that understanding did not make it any easier.

On Korriban, where he had attempted to keep a low profile, he’d once slaughtered three Sith acolytes who had attempted to grab him in one of the tombs once. To this day, he could acutely recall the smells of ozone, dust and burned flesh.

But at this moment, feeling Ashara’s touch… it was like nothing he could remember experiencing. It felt kind. Compassionate. Gentle. Comforting.

Good.

Just like Ashara.

His rational mind informed him that Ashara was the first person he’d allowed to touch him in years.

The rest of him did not care.

Ozibaumnu realized he wasn’t breathing.

Her fingers caressed down his abdomen, seemingly fascinated, neither the Togrutan Jedi nor the Chiss Sith spoke, and she looked up.

Their eyes met. Ashara’s lovely blues meeting Ozibaumnu’s pupiless, haunted reds.

His rational mind started speaking to him again.

We’re nearly the same age. He reminded himself.

He discarded the thought as useless.

Finally, Ashara swallowed and withdrew her hand, suddenly looking very self-conscious.

Ozibaumnu swallowed in turn as he closed the robe, resecuring it around him with a knot.  

He hadn’t expected Ashara to be accepting of his scars, much less to be drawn to them. Indeed, he’d expected her to be repelled. Months before, he had only revealed his scarred face to her when she’d joined his crew out of practical necessity. She had never seen his body before, and now...  

Not the first time I’ve underestimated her.

As for the rest of him, his build was slight. He was hardly one of the so-called ‘Sith warriors’ brutes he’d seen on Korriban. But his muscle was lean and trained to parry an opponent’s attacks.

Ashara bit her lip. She withdrew her hand and it reached behind her, grasping her left arm. Her body turned slightly. Her soft eyes looked up at his again.    

“Can I… do anything to help, my lord?” she asked.

Those simple words. Offering so much compassion.

But promising so much more.

The display was obvious, even to someone like Ozibaumnu, who’d never experienced what others would call a true relationship. Indeed, He’d experienced nothing of ‘romance’ at all, really, outside of Aniann’s deprivations.  

He nevertheless understood her gesture.

But he also understood something about Ashara. A truth he almost – almost – missed.

She didn’t understand what she was offering to him.

She’d been a Jedi. Sheltered from the ways of the galaxy at their Taris enclave. She couldn’t truly appreciate what any of this would mean for either of them if he allowed her into his quarters this evening.

And another thought whittled at his mind.

Was she looking at his scars? Or at him? Was this affection or pity?

I am my scars. He reminded himself. Thus, it did not matter what she thought she was seeing.

“No. Thank you, Ashara.” He managed another smile. “And please, call me ‘Ozibaumnu’ when we’re in private.”

There was a moment of disappointment that passed over Ashara’s eyes, but she nodded and smiled in acceptance.

“Of course. Ozibaumnu.” His name – a collection of syllables which often sounded ridiculous even to his own ears – sounded as sweet as Alderaanian honey when it came from her lips.

The Sith Lord forced himself to nod.

“Get some sleep, alright? I suspect we’ll both need to be at our best on Voss.”

“I will. Thank you.” Her smiled widened into a grin. “You too, alright?”

Ozibaumnu felt his heart miss a beat.

“I’ll try.” He lied.

Ashara, looking relieved, turned and headed back to her quarters. He watched until he lost sight of her.

As the door to his quarters closed, Ozibaumnu exhaled.

He knew he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight.

Tomorrow, they would arrive on Voss. With any luck, he would find this ritual that would allow him to heal his own tormented mind.

And if the Force was kind, he would find it before he went insane.

As he returned to his mediations, he once again considered the ‘problem’ of Ashara Zavros. She was not his apprentice – not really – but she was under his protection due to consequences of his actions.  

I may not be able to deny how I feel. He conceded to himself. But I can control my own actions.

I will not allow my darkness to touch her.

Author’s Notes: This chapter was originally intended to include the full accounting of Ozibaumnu’s dream. The outline for that became darker and darker until I finally had to cut it all entirely if I was going to be honest with it.

I ignore Chiss aging customs. Adults are adults, children are children, etcetera, etcetera.

While her story arc has some shortcomings, Ashara is one of my favorite companions. I literally have WIPs planned in three different legacies that include her as a prominent character.

Regarding the Sith Inquisitor crew – Ozibaumnu is Chiss, who naturally prefer the cold. (Though Ozi less than others.) Khem is naturally adapted to the cold, while Talos is on Hoth when we meet him. Andronikos got sick of the heat on Tatooine and wouldn’t mind a cooler climate. Xalek isn’t here yet, but he is adapted to the cold of Ilum. Nevertheless, Ozibaumnu keeps the ship about five degrees warmer than he and the others would prefer, because it’s to Ashara’s preference.

(No need to read anything into that. Honest.)

Aniann Sarnova is sort of a ‘mirror universe’ experiment for me. In the Sarnova Legacy story, she and her husband gave birth to a daughter named Deviah who would grow up to become the Empire’s Wrath, and later the Commander of the Eternal Alliance. Although her story in that iteration does not end with a happy ending, she and Ivatho do become loving parents to their only child and raise her with principles that will serve her well when she grows up. In effect, Aniann in the Sarnova Legacy is the best version of herself. This iteration of the character, in the Nas Legacy, is likewise the worst version of herself. (As does Ivatho, who is mentioned here.) The contrast interests me as a character study. I’ll get into that some other time.

Chapter Text

Author’s Notes : The following story takes place during the Battle of Corellia during the class stories. Warnings for references to torture and abuse.

Broken bones mended. Damaged muscle tissue knit. Skin healed.

Slowly, the pain faded.

Nas’ash’dia – the woman known as Cipher Nine to virtually all who had met her – took her hand back, rubbing her wrist and fingers gingerly, grateful that in mere moments, the injuries she’d suffered at the hands of the Star Cabal had been healed. As far as she could tell, there had been no nerve damage.

She was still sore from being bound for so long, though by now it was mostly from the many hours she’d spent hanging from the ceiling by her wrists.

(Her mental state of health? Best not think about that right now.)

Nothing Hunter’s goons had done to her had been much a surprise to someone of her training and experience. She knew anyone employed by the Star Cabal would be reasonably skilled, and under Hunter’s direction, they would make everything they did to her as personal as possible.

She had thought when Keeper had pitched this plan that she’d been prepared for this. That everything she’d survived up to this point – from her childhood to her training to Jadus’ betrayal to Kothe and the Castellan restraints to the dissolution of Imperial Intelligence – would have somehow left her immune to anymore pain.

She’d been wrong.

Flexing her fingers, she finally looked back down at her unanticipated physician.

Her brother smiled up at her as he rose to his feet.

She glanced at the skull-mask he had set aside when he’d revealed himself. To most Imperials, that mask was Lord Kallig.

But the man standing before her right now was Laeso.        

Her little brother was a Sith. A Sith Lord, no less. But one who could heal others as opposed to using the dark side exclusively to cause harm and suffering.

Laeso – Nas’laeso'ucu – who called himself Lord Kallig, even if that name was a lie, studied her carefully.

“Better?” he finally asked her.

He’d done more to repair her damaged body in two minutes than even Doctor Lokin could have accomplished in his sick bay over two days.

“Yes.” Her voice was surprisingly soft, sounding alien to her own ears. She stood up. “Thank you.”

The reunited siblings were standing in the ruins of what had once been a cantina near Axial Park on Corellia.

In the distance, they could hear the thunder of artillery raining down on the city, as well as the occasional sounds of blaster fire. From her training, she could judge the closest of it was approximately four blocks away.   

Nas’ash’dia had not seen her brother in fifteen years.

No one besides Kaliyo and Vector knew her as anything other than Cipher Nine, and if the Minister’s plan to bring Intelligence together for one last (rogue) operation failed, its possible no one else ever would, either.

He called himself ‘Ozibaumnu’ now. She imagined there was a meaning behind the name, but that could wait.

He was four years her junior. When last they’d met, she could still pull him into her arms, the top of his head coming up to her chin. Now? He had at least three inches on her.

She knew that other Imperials – Sith and otherwise – recognized him as a young up-and-coming Sith Lord involved in a feud with Darth Thanaton, though she had never connected that identity with her brother until mere minutes ago. The courtesy reports she’d received from Intelligence -prior to its dissolution – hadn’t alarmed her interest. Indeed, she doubted many people even knew that the infamous ‘Lord Kallig’ was a Chiss.

“I thought you were dead.” she finally told him, sadly.

“I feared you were worse.” he answered, gazing down at her with those eyes of his that were still brimming with intelligence, even all these years later, but this time tinged with pain and guilt.

Nas’ash’dia swallowed and nodded. She knew perfectly well how things went for most alien slaves in the Sith Empire. Particularly female slaves.

“You call yourself…” she paused for a moment. “’Ozibaumnu’ these days?”

The name meant nothing to her. It didn’t translate into Cheunh, the language of the Chiss. But it was the only alias she’d heard attributed to Lord Kallig.

Her brother closed his eyes and exhaled.

“I didn’t want to remember, Ash.” he finally answered, using her familial name. “Not the things that happened back then. Not even my name.”

Nas’ash’dia reached out and took him by the hand.

Laeso flinched at the contact on reflex, his eyes opening in alarm before he suddenly forced himself to relax, awkwardly allowing her to take the hand.

She released it immediately, worried at his response.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, crestfallen. “You… don’t like being touched, do you?”

He shook his head, looking away from her.

“No.”

She felt a knot clench in her stomach. She’d seen the crisscrossed scars covering much of his face, almost but not quite making him unrecognizable. She could only imagine how the rest of him looked beneath his robes and armor.

“Do I want to know why?”

Laeso looked up at her, a pained looked in his eyes.

“No.”

Nas’ash’dia bit her lip, her fists clenching in anger. She was relieved that she’d brought Vector with her on this mission. To allow anyone else to see her this way...

“I’m sorry.” She stifled a sob. “I should have been there to stop them.”

She felt a tear fall from her cheek. Dammit.

“I promised our mother that I would protect you. When she left for Korriban.”

“Not your fault.” His tone was hard and firm. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

He looked away again awkwardly.

“I tried to look you up after I joined Imperial Intelligence.” She offered lamely. “I couldn’t find you in any of the records.”

“I had changed my name by then.” He was still looking away. “And the Sarnovas had moved me back to Ziost with them.”

Her head dropped, a mixture of regret and anger simmering over her.

“I’ll tell you what happened.” He offered. “When this is all over. When there’s time.”

Nas’ash’dia blinked and nodded, reaching up and drying her eyes.

“We both will.” She promised him. “We’ll tell each other everything.”

He turned towards her again, his expression easing into a smile. Something caught his eye behind her, however, as he looked past her, his eyes refocusing on something.

“Your companion.” Laeso asked. “He’s a Killik Joiner, isn’t he?”

Nas’ash’dia turned behind her and regarded Vector, maintaining a respectful distance, opposite the young Togrutan woman who had been accompanying her brother. The two were nominally keeping watch for danger while awkwardly keeping an eye on each other and the two Chiss siblings with furtive glances.

Nas’ash’dia’s face brightened with a smile as she regarded the man she’d given her heart to.

“He is.” she heard the emotion in her own voice. She knew it was a potential weakness; a vulnerability an enemy could exploit against her.

But with Laeso, her brother, she did not care. 

He had obviously picked something up in her eyes and manner.

“Does he… take care of you?”

Had she been less trained, Nas’ash’dia might have missed the firm tone of protectiveness in Laeso’s voice.

Her little brother was worried about the man in her life.

The absurdity of the situation was adorable, and she couldn’t keep her smile from spreading into a grin as she turned back to him.

“Yes.” she giggled. “He does.”

Shavit. She hadn’t giggled except as a cover since she’d been a child.

When since she’d been with him.

Laeso nodded at her answer, apparently content for the moment.

“Good.” Was his only response.

A sone turned over in Nas’ash’dia’s mind. Something about the questions siblings should ask each other.

“That Togruta you brought with you. Her lightsabers were blue.”

He raised an appraising eyebrow. Ash recognized the mannerism immediately; he’d inherited that expression from their mother, from whenever one of her children had said something dubious to her. He wouldn’t respond to her further until she expanded on her unspoken question.

Nas’ash’dia finally pressed.

“Is she a Jedi?” there was just an ounce of venom in her tone at the word.

She almost missed the shift in his eyes. Humans often considered Chiss faces difficult to read. Nas’ash’dia disagreed, of course, but she couldn’t question that her brother had learned to keep his face impassive.

Just not from her.

“She’s still making up her mind about that.”

Nas’ash’dia chewed that over. She couldn’t help but think about Ardun Kothe, and everything that had passed between them.

“Do you trust her?”

Like a switch had been flipped, her brother’s face softened. The pretext of subterfuge faded away and the corners of his lips quirked upwards in the slightest trace of a boyish grin.

“Yes.”

Nas’ash’dia’s heart nearly melted at the expression on her brother’s face charmed. She would talk to this Togrutan not-quite-a-Jedi - Laeso had called her Ashara - later. But for the moment, whatever was going on between them, she made him happy.

Today, that was enough.

She smiled up at him.

“I saw how she looks at you. And I saw the look on your face when I mentioned her.”

He chuckled. Again, not an expression that seemed to come naturally for him.

“They did train you well, didn’t they?”

“They do. But I’ve always been able to read you.” Nas’ash’dia smirked.

They had been separated for fifteen years. But in this moment, the two siblings saw each other.

But the moment was fleeting. They were both needed elsewhere.

“We don’t have the time to talk properly right now.” It was Nas’ash’dia – who called herself Cipher Nine - who broke the silence.

Laeso nodded sharply.

“The data you’ve given me on Thanaton’s forces will be an immense help.” He offered with genuine gratitude. “Thank you.”

She beamed.

“You’re welcome.”

The Empire can’t hold onto Corellia.

Nas’ash’dia knew this perfectly well. The planetary government may have been cajoled by the Sith, but the people had not, and the popular will of the people was where Corellia’s strength lay, not in its leaders. What had been won by hook or by crook would be lost in fire and blood. Thousands of Imperial soldiers were dying for nothing. Alone, the Empire might - at great expense - have eventually been able to subjugate the planet, but they would have had to fight to hold onto it forever, and they wouldn’t net the profit of a single starfighter when the butcher’s bill was calculated. Meanwhile, the full might of the Republic was coming into this fight, and they’d learned far too much of war from the Empire.

Ardun Kothe’s ruthlessness had been proof of that.

For her own part, Nas’ash’dia no longer cared. This planet, the Republic, the Empire, they could all burn. Even the Chiss Ascendency, spared the rigors of war save the sending of soldiers to die in a conflict that didn’t concern them (including her father), held no sentiment to her any longer. Saganu may have promised her that she could join House Miurani someday, but whatever consideration she held for him (and their time together had been a comfort) did not extend to the rest of her species.

After all, they had been the ones who had exiled her family in the first place.

From what Laeso had told her, this battle - and even this war - was all merely a distraction. A sideshow to greater events.

Or an opportunity. She thought to herself, considering the plans of Thanaton or even the Star Cabal. With so many pieces in play, anyone could make a power grab. And plenty of people seemed to be doing just that.

Meanwhile, she and her brother had only this moment.

Nas’ash’dia stepped towards him, mere centimeters away. She reached up a hand to touch him but stopped herself, remembering his earlier reaction. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

This time, however, the awkward moment was broken by Laeso who reached out and embraced his sister.

Nas’ash’dia sighed in contentment as she clung to his lean body fiercely. She’d waited fifteen years to hug her brother; she was determined to enjoy it for as long as she could. But for all of that, she couldn’t forget her anger at all of those who had separated them.

“I’m going to make them all pay.” she whispered to him. “The Sith. The Empire. The Republic. Everyone who ever wronged us. As soon as I’m done with the Star Cabal.”

She could feel him smiling as he pulled her closer.

“Just live.” he whispered back. “That is what mother would have wanted. She may not have survived Korriban, but she raised two children who grew up to be survivors.”

He pulled back enough for her to see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I’m not losing you again after I finally found you.”

She bit her lip to stop herself from saying something that would compromise herself. If she started down that path, she’d never stop crying. Instead, she went with a jab.

“You Sith do spend a lot of time fighting each other, don’t you?” she gave him a teasing look.

Much to her surprise, he regarded the question with a contemplative air.

“We do.” he finally answered. “I’ve noted that for some time.”

His eyes narrowed with a resolve that startled her.

“A lot of things will change before I’m done.”

His words – and his tone – impressed her. She realized he wasn’t speaking of his upcoming duel with Thanaton, but well beyond.

She remembered what Thanaton, Zhorrid and the rest of the Dark Council had done to her, even after she had saved every one of them. She thought about that idiot, Lord Razer, a bloodthirsty tyrant getting himself killed in a pointless duel with a Jedi when he should have been commanding his forces. She remembered the Sith Lord who had slain the son of Karrels Javis in some petty dispute, forcing her to terminate a cultivated asset who could have benefited the Empire for years.

Above all, she remembered Jadus. How he had tormented her just to make a point, and how he had killed thousands upon thousands of Imperials - and threatened to kill millons more - in a hopeless grab for the Emperor’s power and authority.

She smiled.

“I’ll look forward to seeing that.”

She gently squeezed his arm, as she had when they’d been children.

“When did you become such an adult?”

He didn’t answer, just smiling.

As the two turned to go their separate ways, she felt more herself. For the first time in years.

To the galaxy, she was Cipher Nine.

Here, now, she was Nas’ash’dia.

And she would survive to see that record corrected.

Author’s Notes : This chapter references an earlier work of mine featuring Nas’ash’dia - “Pieces”.

I continue to maintain that Sith do not (normally) have the ability to heal others. Yes, during gameplay, we see Scourge and Lana heal the player character with “dark side energies”, but we see every companion do something similar. This is supported by most E.U. content.

In case it wasn’t obvious, Ozi’s mask is the ‘Mask of Kallig’ from the game.

The Sarnovas mentioned as part of Ozi’s backstory are A.U. versions of the parents of Deviah Sarnova in my Sarnova Legacy. I speak about them on my Tumblr.

The next chapter - whenever I get to it - will be another downer, I fear.

Chapter Text

Author’s Notes : The following story takes place in my Nas Legacy as part of my Monsters and Masks series. Content warnings for original character death, some blood/gore and bigotry towards non-humans. Lots of angst, here, folks. 

Nas'haes'uhme – Shaesu to those few in the Empire who deigned to address her by her own name – collapsed upon the rocky ground of Korriban, her vibro-blade falling out of her hand.

She knew it was over for her.

The stab wound to her torso was already bleeding out, and her attackers were unlikely to give her any respite. Her strength was fading rapidly with her limbs barely responding to her commands. She certainly couldn’t muster the strength to stand, much less defend herself.

Haes – her proper given name as a Chiss – had come to this accursed world in the hopes of earning a place amongst the Sith. She ’d been aware that the odds had been against her; she was starting out several years older than the average Sith Acolyte at the academy and besides that she faced considerable discrimination from her ‘fellow pupils’, virtually all of whom were human or Pureblooded Sith. It had immediately made her a target. Even the former Jedi who had been broken and turned to the dark side held an advantage over her in experience if not philosophy.

Of course, had matters gone otherwise, Haes would never have chosen to come to Korriban for Sith training at all.

Two years ago, after the death of her husband (killed by fighting in someone else’s war, she didn’t need to remind herself), Haes had been exiled from the Chiss Ascendancy when her Force sensitivity had been revealed to the authorities. With few connections outside of her own people, the Sith Empire was the only viable place she could go. And as a Force-sensitive, Sith training was the only real path open to her.

Above her stood her attackers, glaring down at their victim. Hanik, a human, and Mathiren, a Sith Pureblood. The two acolytes had ambushed her as she’d stepped outside of the tomb, the ancient tablet she’d recovered laying shattered where she’d dropped it.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that these two would have chanced such a cowardly move out here, so far from the relative safety of the Sith Academy. With their modest individual abilities, they’d have known they couldn’t have taken her on their own in a straight-up fight, certainly not without alerting the Overseers.

They had provoked and even bullied her many times these last few months, and for reasons that were understandable to the Sith mindset. After all, she was alone. A minority of one, without natural friends or allies. She could count on one hand the number of Acolytes on Korriban who were not either human or pureblooded.

And if she was not the first Chiss to ever step down upon this cursed rock, she would have been astonished.

As she felt her breath start to go shallow, her thoughts naturally turned to her children. They’d been the only reason why she had pushed herself even this far.

She wondered what the Empire, and indeed the galaxy itself, would do to them without her being alive to protect them.

She had been heart-broken when she’d left them with the Nedecca family on Dromund Kaas while she’d headed off to Korriban.

She was not entirely fond of the couple, who had served in the Imperial Military alongside her husband before he’d been killed in the fighting against the Republic. But they were the closest thing she had to friends in the Empire. They were also not unambitious; if Haes had succeeded in her goal of becoming a Sith and eventually a Sith Lord, they knew they’d be well-rewarded for their aid. For them, fostering a pair of ‘alien children’ had been worth the bother.

But now, in light of her failure to survive and advance, she didn’t think they would do much to protect them, even if they could. They were a practical couple. Besides, they had their own daughter to consider, a few years older than her own children, just last season entering the Imperial Academy on Ziost. 

They would not risk either their own lives or their daughter’s future by defying the Sith for a pair of non-human children who were not their own.

She was worried for Nas’ash’dia, of course. It had been months since she’d seen the last holo of Ash. At twelve years old, Haes was leaving her lovely daughter behind at the precipice of womanhood. But she also knew her clever daughter was a survivor; if any non-human child could survive being orphaned in the Sith Empire, then Nas’ash’dia could.

But loath though she was to play favorites, she felt greater concern for Nas'laeso'ucu.

Where his sister was highly intelligent and resourceful, her son Laeso was brilliant. Even as a small child back on Copero, his curiosity and intellect were far beyond Haes’ ability to comprehend, as he would devour book after book. Even then, she and her husband had privately spoken about the limitless future their son had before him. No endeavor would be outside his potential. Now at eight years old, his intellect intimidated the Nedeccas, who observed this young Chiss boy easily pass every test their teaching droid could put to him.

But his intelligence was not what worried Haes. No. She’d gone to great lengths to conceal that Laeso was Force-sensitive.

If his abilities were discovered with her death, he’d follow his mother’s path to Korriban soon enough, likely with the same destiny.

If his abilities were not discovered, his fate might be even grimmer. The Sith of Korriban were usually at least quick. She couldn’t imagine how long a frail child such as Laeso would survive mining ore on some distant slave mine facility.

Haes felt a tear trail down her cheek.

“Hey, she’s still breathing.” Hanik jeered, the insult snapping her consciousness back to reality. “Think this alien schutta is asking for more?”

The anger flared within Haes’ chest, refocusing her thoughts. The building rage was not for herself, but for her children. Her magnificent children who she would never see again and who would almost certainly suffer greatly in her absence. As her teeth gritted in fury, her finger reached out.

Behind Hannik, Haes’ vibroblade lifted off the ground…

The Sith Acolyte screamed out as the weapon impaled him through the back, jutting out of his chest. Blood sprayed out over the rocks, much of it raining down on her.

She smiled at the sensation, the hot, fresh blood of her slain enemy warming her even as the last of her strength and rage was exhausted. Her blade clattered to the ground.

Alarmed at his companion’s sudden demise, Mathiren frantically raised his blade to finish her off.

Haes could only reflect on her legacy.

She’d worn a mask for years to protect her children, desperately attempting to become something she wasn’t.

In these final moments of her life, she was, in fact, a Sith.

As the blade swung down and her life came to an end, Haes could only hope her children would learn to survive by wearing their own masks, without becoming monsters.

Fifteen years later…

The assembled members of the Dark Council of the Sith Empire – ostensibly the twelve most powerful Sith in the galaxy – stood in their council chamber on the top floor of the Sith Academy of Korriban.

Perilous as the existence of any Sith could be, the death of one who sat upon the Dark Council was still considered a remarkable event, even when it was the second such death they had witnessed in less than an hour.

By necessity, this Council meeting had already been well short of a full dozen in physical attendance.

Three of their number – Darth Decimus, Darth Acharon and Darth Hadra – the heads of the Spheres of Military Strategy, Biotic Science and Technology, respectively – were appearing by holoprojection as they’d been committed to overseeing the Empire’s flagging efforts on Corellia.

Three more Councilors – Darth Rictus, the oldest serving member of the Council who commanded the Sphere of Mysteries, Darth Zhorrid, the youngest Councilor who nominally presided over the Sphere of Imperial Intelligence and Darth Aruk who led the Sphere of Sith Philosophy – were entirely absent. Rictus was occupied investigating rumors into the whereabouts of the rogue Sith Lord Darth Jadus, himself a former Councilor and the father of Darth Zhorrid. Zhorrid’s own absence was no great surprise, given the Council’s recent dissolution of the Empire’s once-feared Imperial Intelligence service. No doubt, the young Sith was desperately trying to cling to her crumbling power base. Meanwhile, Aruk was absent while dealing with some dissident conspiracy on the capital world of Dromund Kaas.

A seventh Dark Lord – Darth Baras, who had taken control of the Sphere of Military Offense after Darth Vengean’s fall – had been killed in this very chamber earlier in this session by his former Apprentice in a private duel. That Apprentice had in turn successfully claimed the title of the Emperor’s Wrath before departing.

Finally, an eighth – Darth Thanaton, who had represented the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge for less than a year – now lay freshly dead on the floor.

That left a mere four Dark Lords of the Sith physically present to mark Thanaton’s passing, and to stand witness for what was now to come.

It may have been Darth Mortis who had delivered the death blow to Thanaton in a mercy-killing to preserve the dignity of the Council, but no one could deny the potency of the strange, masked Sith who had just bested their former colleague in a Force duel with a brilliant display. His build was slight and his lineage was unclear; there had supposedly been a ‘Lord Kallig’ many centuries ago in the days of Tulak Hord, but that was ancient history, and the name representing little more than a footnote in the modern Sith Empire.

Nevertheless, despite his unassuming posture and his much-maligned origins, the upstart projected an air of power about them, and not simply because they had just witnessed him crushing one of their number. Thanaton’s time on the Council may have been relatively brief and more than a few found him tedious, but none would have questioned his personal power when he’d succeeded Darth Arctis some months ago.

Off to the side stood the newcomer’s two seconds; a Dashade shadow-assassin and a Kaleeshi Sith Apprentice. Strictly speaking, protocol demanded that the peculiar duo should have remained outside the council chambers, along with their master. None had been properly invited into the chamber. But as it was apparent that Thanaton’s followers guarding the door had failed in that simple task of security (as they had been repeatedly outmaneuvered over the last several weeks during the Kaggath between the two Sith), no one on the Council had bothered to force their eviction. As they had not actively interfered in the fight with Thanaton, to the assembled Dark Lords, they were irrelevant.

The masked Sith Lord paused at that, regarding Mortis, then turning towards the seat in consideration. Finally, he turned back to address all the assembled members of the Council.

“My lords, I’m… I’m truly honored.” He finally spoke; his voice was clear through the filter of the mask, though it was rather lighter than one might have expected from a young Sith Lord who had dared so much.

“I was not expecting this at all.”

The words were humble.

None of the Sith present believed they were sincere, but such was to be expected.

Such considerations were, once again, irrelevant. The strong had overcome the weak. The corrupt had been cleansed.

The ways of the Sith had been preserved, as Thanaton had insisted.

“You just killed a Dark Council member in fair combat.” Darth Marr, the head of the Sphere of Military Defense, pointed out, his iconic masked face looking up from Thanaton’s fallen form.

“What did you expect?”

The deliberations were not without protest.

“He’s only a lord!” Darth Ravage, who ruled the Sphere of Expansion and Diplomacy, was incredulous. “You can’t put a lord on the Dark Council!”

“Quiet, Ravage!” Marr snapped at his junior Councilor. “He’s earned his place.”

The young Sith Lord who had been the subject of the argument tilted his head at the exchange, as if carefully considering something. Finally, his hands reached up behind his head as he unclasped the skull-mask he was wearing, letting it fall away.

A collective gasp could be heard from several members of the Council, including those observing by holo. Ravage visibly gaped while Darth Vowrawn, the head of the Empire’s Sphere of Production and Logistics, chuckled to himself at the revelation. Only Marr and Mortis maintained something approaching a professional decorum, standing in a stoic silence.

The face before them was young; this was no surprise. Everyone knew that Thanaton’s opponent in the Kaggath was an upstart. The face was likewise heavily scarred; the defects crisscrossed him from old injuries. That was also not a surprise; Thanaton himself had protested that this interloper had once been a slave before becoming Zash’s apprentice, and more than a few slaves in the Empire bore such scars.

No. What had startled many of the Councilors was the fact that the face looking back at them was blue with glowing red eyes that regarded each of them with a cool intellect that might have unsettled the Emperor himself.

Incredibly, this newest addition to the Dark Council was a Chiss.

“Are we really going to allow this… this alien filth to sit on the Dark Council?”

If Ravage had been incredulous before, he was now fast becoming apoplectic, looking around the room to his assembled fellows.

“Without even consulting with the Emperor whom we are sworn to serve?” he spat.

“Enough, Ravage.” Darth Marr waved a dismissive hand.

Ravage’s ploy had been obvious. The Emperor, it was well known, rarely took an active role in day-to-day Council matters, even to name a replacement. It could be months – if not longer – before he made his will known.

For a Sith like Darth Marr, who had lived long enough to observe Thanaton’s rise from slave to apprentice of a disgraced master to Sith Lord to Dark Lord of the Sith, such a gap in the Empire’s leadership structure would be unacceptable.  

He turned and acknowledged the latest addition to the Dark Council.

”As I have said, he has earned to right to that seat.”

Minutes later, the newly appointed Dark Councilor of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge made his exit from the chambers, Khem Val and Xalek in tow. The Kalesshi held the discarded Kallig mask in his hands, carrying it reverently.

He had worn many names while walking along the path that had led him to this point.

He was departing from this planet – a planet that had forged him in so many ways – as Darth Imperious of the Empire’s Dark Council. In and of itself, this name meant nothing to him, aside from the authority that had come with it. He accepted that it now referred to him by anyone within the Sith Empire.

Prior to this, he had been commonly known as Lord Kallig. This name had been inadvertently stolen; the consequence of a delusional ancient Force ghost misidentifying him at the Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas. Nevertheless, he accepted that the name had granted him a degree of credibility within the Empire. Regardless, as was now the case with his Dark Councilor title, that name personally meant nothing to him.

For most of his life, he had been called ‘Ozibaumnu’. That name’s origins had been meaningless from the first moment he’d uttered it; a series of barely coherent syllables muttered on the day he’d been sold into slavery as a child. It had nevertheless come to symbolize a breaking with his past, from before he had worn a slave collar. For that small circle of people he now called friends – Ashara, Andronikos and Talos – from them, he would continue to accept that name. From anyone else, it would now be as meaningless in effect as well as in fact.

But none of those names had ever really been his.

His name was Nas'laeso'ucu. Son of Nas'haes'uhme. Brother to Nas’ash’dia.

And regardless of whether he ever used that name aloud, he would never wear a mask again.

END

Author’s Notes : Just in case it wasn’t obvious, several lines of dialogue in this piece were pulled directly from the end of the Sith Inquisitor story on Korriban.

Ozibaumnu’s name originally had a different, more Chiss-appropriate origin. Unfortunately, I lost the notes on that, and when I reread the Chiss naming conventions article, I realized that it didn’t make sense. This is my best effort to reconcile all of those continuity issues. On a related note, ‘Shaesu’ is pronounced ‘Shay-sue’, while ‘Laeso’ is pronounced ‘Lay-sue’ and Nas’ash’dia is pronounced ‘Nazz-osh-dee-ah’, even though her personal name is usually pronounced ‘Ash’. (Yeah, I know Chiss names are weird.)

This story was originally two separate chapters, with Shaesu’s titled What We Leave Behind . The combination of the two seemed to work. (I do love before-and-after stories.)

As stated elsewhere, I’m ignoring Chiss aging rules. As far as I’m concerned, they are approximately the same standard as humans.

Now for the elephant in the room I inserted near the end – yup. Ozibaumnu is NOT the actual descendant of Lord Kallig. I may address this in future stories, but it’s been an idea I’ve been turning over in my head for a long time.

The referenced daughter of the Nedecca family later becomes a Major in the Imperial Army and an NPC in the game. She shows up on Corellia in the Imperial Agent storyline, serving as an aid to Lord Razer. As you might imagine, her reunion with Nas’ash’dia was rather awkward.

I always thought it was hilarious that Darth Ravage was heading the Empire’s “Sphere of Expansion and Diplomacy”, considering he’s one of the least diplomatic Sith in the entire game. On that note, tracking the Dark Council members and their assignment Spheres is a pet-project of mine.

The reasons for the Ascendancy to join forces with an Empire (that usually doesn’t see Chiss as people much less equals) are convoluted and I hope to explore those in the future. But it seemed to make sense that the children of an exile and failed Sith acolyte would be pressed into slavery, rather than being sent back to their people.

I’ve written about Nas’ash’dia elsewhere. It is strange to me that she predated Ozi – and is in fact the Outlander in my Nas Legacy – and yet I’m more comfortable writing about her brilliant but traumatized brother. More about Ash in the future, I hope.

People continuing to fight after being shot or stabbed in the chest is a pet peeve of mine. In real life, that (almost) never happens. The strength just drains right out of you. I try to adhere to reality here with Shaesu.

Thank you for reading, and may the Force be with you.