Chapter Text
"I could have run, you know. I could have slipped away during the fight."
"You could have given into your fear. No. That is not your way… Even if you were not a Jedi."
"What are you waiting for then? Let's just get on with it."
She was impatient, almost eager to take him on in a fair duel. But Maul wanted no distractions, and she was right, no witnesses.
No one knew or could tell of the events that took place on Drazkel. Not even his master.
Through victory my chains are broken.
*
The soothing calm of darkness lifted as he opened his eyes in a startled breath. His throat slightly tight with regret, he coughed the sensation away, a hand in an armored glove instinctively clasping at the breastplate of beskar, then he was fully awake. Tense cervicals and a pinch in his spine were a swift reminder of the time that passed, and the condition he was in now that he returned to the present. Booming voices of men and distant music reached his quarters, talking loudly in their celebration of yet another fruitful excursion outside Republic territories. He must have fallen asleep only minutes prior, because it was barely midnight.
Maul's once bright golden eyes scanned the desk before him, noted the flashing light on his handheld amid a mess of flimsi's. He rose from his seat and pressed against the edge of the desk, cracking his cervicals, before accepting the transmission.
"My lord," Gar's voice rose from the speakers. "We secured the last of the quadrants and took custody of Satine's sympathizers."
"Very well, Saxon," he responded approvingly. "And what of Bo Katan?"
He heard the faint inhale coming from his lieutenant. "No sign of her. She may as well have abandoned her men to their fate."
"I would not jump to that conclusion, no matter how satisfying." Maul brought his back up straight, adding more volume to his voice. "Have a minimal perimeter set up along entry points and gather the rest of your men. As for the prisoners, bring them here. Leave no loose ends."
"Of course, my lord."
"Today, Mandalore is completely ours."
He switched off the link and took a few deep breaths before turning to look through the window of his cabin. The Mandalorians were still relaxing noisily after days of fighting on their own planet, against their own kin. But the fires of battle had been doused. Buildings were already being repaired and rebuilt in Sundari. Death Watch warriors patrolled and guarded the plaza as the people cheered and thanked them, fists in the air. He could not hear their exclamations but their pride and satisfaction reached him nonetheless.
He rubbed a finger over his chin. This was victory, but of only one battle in the war. They were not free and their joys were fleeting. Soon, most of them would have to fight and die, or fall to their knees and beg -- as he had done for most of his life.
Cutting short of his ruminations before they dragged him towards painful memories, he took his cloak from over the back of the chair, thought twice and decided to leave the garment there. He wore the black beskar for the most of two months as a protective measure, although now that combat was scarce he kept it on for morale. Checking for his utility belt his gloved hands moved from his lightsaber hilt, then to the newest addition, the smaller one of the darksaber on his right side.
Outside his quarters stood Rook Kast and two of her usual soldiers who seemingly took no part in the festivities. They broke their casual stance to face him at attention when she noticed him in the short hallway of their temporary base of operations.
"My lord, we have finished clearing out the Duchess's suite," said the black haired young woman with eyes of blue that never quite met his own. "The palace is yours if you'll take it."
Distracted by the music and loud conversations, Maul only offered a sneer at the three Mandalorians in front of him. He knew he was being tested as the one who had defeated their leader to take his place.
"Your thoughtfulness is noted," he told Rook, "but you aren't without knowing that I function perfectly with little sleep."
He raised a hairless, tattooed brow at her before she could muster a response. His mouth raised a corner at her confusion.
"Or could it be that your vode would prefer some distance from their new Mand'alor?"
It had been less than a cycle and Maul, alongside Pre Vizsla - - and Savage - - had proven time and time again that he could provide them the resources, and the opportunities for battle and glory that the Death Watch Mandalorians craved. Had they silenced their doubts over his leadership, they still needed to accept him as one of theirs.
Rook Kast stood rigid, unshaken by the provocation as if she had prepared for it.
"Clearly we respect you, my lord. You deserve a proper space to lead us and design your plans for your vision."
Maul said nothing. He welcomed the gesture with a short nod of the chin before advancing to the mess hall which doubled as the main briefing room. Faces of rugged combatants turned to look at him with shock or delight, sometimes both through their alcohol-infused brains, putting a halt to the casual talks. A female slapped a glove hand over the device that silenced the music.
He stood with his hands casually joined behind him, eying the nearby Mandalorians who no longer sat at their tables but stood respectfully with their helmets under their elbows.
His gaze moved to the tall, square-shouldered heavy artillery expert named Darik whose smirk defied him, shifting the scar that ran down the left side of his skull and face.
"Lord Maul," he drawled in his baritone timber, raising a cup. "You honor us with your presence!"
Before he could speak the men and women cheered and rose with their drinks to their native chant Oya! and took a swig of the clear spirit they had brewed themselves.
His cynical mind would have taken this as mockery but aside from a rampant fear and even admiration to be sensed he focused on their shared interest: violence and glory.
"We have come a long way to get where we are now. From outcasts, betrayed and shamed by those who wear your emblem and your name. But they have no more claims to make. You are now home."
He paused as he heard the faint hum of engines outside the building, and took a few steps towards the main entrance.
"I may have orchestrated a divide, a revolution even. And many lives were lost. You were turned against your brothers and sisters." He let a sneer stretch his face as he focused on each one of them. A weight pressed on his chest as he briefly pondered what he, too, had recently lost. "Now the time has come to rebuild and mend the corruption that tore at your people for far too long."
They shouted with ferocious cheer, helmets and weapons raised in the air. Fists clashing against beskar plates.
At that moment, Gar Saxon and his men entered, followed by a group of a dozen prisoners, all Mandalorian civilians and law enforcers.
"Oya! Oya! Oya!"
Grinning with elation, Maul raised the darksaber, and spoke with the might of his warriors.
"Today, Mandalore is whole once again! You are reborn, united in strength and honor. This battle was yours, Mando'ade! "
The room and walls shook under their thunderous roars and chants, joined immediately by Gar and even Rook was fiercely brandishing her blaster. They all began heartily reciting their war song, the one Maul had heard several times before deployments and for other celebrations. They used their boots and armor to drum the invigorating beat, a testament to the energy and power of the people Maul chose to be taken into.
He was offered a cup of their local spirit and held it up to toast with the man in front of him before taking a sip of the strong liquor. He wasn't one to dull his senses with chemicals or otherwise, preferring to embrace the harsh reality, to savor the pain and anguish. But that night was not about him.
Saxon, who held his horned helmet under his left arm, extended a hand at Maul. His pale face held back a wide grin when they clasped elbows. Maul remembered, Pre Vizsla explained that handshake to him before. No brother left behind.
"Bo Katan doesn't know what she's missing from turning her back on us."
The young man grabbed a drink while Maul looked up at the concrete ceiling. He kept his voice low but strong enough to weigh his insight. The group of prisoners was lined up along the wall on the opposite side, with rifles pointed at them. Maul was sure they all paid attention to what he had to say about their leader.
"She is a dangerous enemy to have," he put down his drink upon the nearest table, then folded his arms across his chest. "But her delusions will eventually cause her downfall. People when divided are harmless against an invading force."
His eyes trailed towards the captured men and women. He heard Gar's amused tone.
"Shall we make examples out of them, my lord?"
Maul gave him a thoughtful look before walking towards them. The first thing he noticed was their age, either too old or too young, then one with an injured arm hung by a sling, and the rest were fighting to keep a straight face when their knees or hands trembled. They all looked into Maul's eyes, something he was certain they would remember for a long time, should they live.
The oldest of the group looked down at his belt, then studied his face. His hair was a mess of salt and pepper strands mixed in with dried out blood. But he had the strong jawline of a fighter, the shoulders of one who had known wars, very much unlike the average newer generations of Mandalorians grown under Satine's rule.
Maul stopped his pacing and held the darksaber again, but waited before activating its blade. He theatrically looked at the sharply crafted hilt in his gloved hand, blinked over his gold irises. The old man no longer looked at him, keeping his aged face unperturbed.
Someone coughed.
"Aruetii."
Silence filled the hall and the word, although softly spoken, caught the attention of the men of the Death Watch. All faces and T-visors turned to bear witness to the scene.
Maul noted who had said the word -- "outsider, traitor" -- and decided to ignore the blond haired woman. For now. She was already primed for a volley of blaster fire if she would add anything impertinent.
"I will not waste our time on pointless lectures," he told them with a snarl of disgust. "Assuming you have all received word of my methods. After all, we have been at odds with each other for-" He interrupted himself, and looked to the closest Mandalorian who had his face concealed. His paint of specific red and black markings were those of Jav Fen, field medic and comms expert. "How long has it been? Two months?"
"Two and a half months, my lord," spoke Jav through his transmitter.
"Two and a half," Maul repeated somberly, taking a few more steps in front of the prisoners whose anxiety rose with every hit of his heavy heels against the floor. He lifted his glowing eyes to them. "That's a long time. And I know you are alive today because you did what you had to do to survive. The last line of defense. The hardiest, bravest men and women ready to fight and die for Duchess Satine--"
"For Mandalore!"
The injured man had screamed in protest, teeth clenched in pain as he fought to keep his back straight against the wall.
"You will stay silent in the presence of Lord Maul," warned Gar, his pistol ready but he kept it at his side.
"You will be first," Maul said, directing the still inactive darksaber, to which Jav and another, a female that went by the name of Dren, grabbed the prisoner and made him kneel in front of their leader. Maul switched the activation so that the blade angled towards the tired man's neck. "Make your choice, Mandalorian."
Sweat was dripping over his brow, his gray eyes blinked as they darted from Maul, the dark electrified blade, then the hand pressed against his shoulder to finally Jav. They exchanged a look but the medic said nothing.
Losing patience, Maul took a step aside to position himself in line with the kneeling man's neck. He mechanically gave the weapon a twirl before lifting it with both hands. He despised the creature that reeked of fear below him, he hated taking a life in such a way, there was no challenge, no satisfaction. Maul did not have the privilege of a face covering to hide his displeasure.
"Any last words?" threateningly asked Jav who was closest to the prisoner.
There was a shift in the man's breathing, a quiet solace on his exhausted face before he closed his wet lids.
The kill was swift and painless. The cauterized section left a wift of burnt flesh at the Mandalorians' feet when Dren and Jarik carried away the lifeless body.
Creasing his brow, Maul shut his eyes for a few seconds, straightening his back. He no longer heard silence but the looming whispers in the Force. He knew it was the Dark Side calling him, tempting him with rage, hatred. With the hundreds if not thousands of lives that had ended as a consequence of his existence, the call of the void never weakened. Maul was raised for battle and constant movement, never to dwell on his actions.
Things changed. He was leading a group of ruthless men who responded positively to acts of honor. And if he was to gain their trust and loyalty, he needed to use all of the tools in his arsenal.
He had heard whisperings in his back, at a different time but in very similar circumstances. At least he's not making us kill them. Not anymore.
The prisoners were dismissed to the hold and Maul took time to collect his thoughts.
We don't have to be enemies.
He wanted to answer the soft voice in his mind: "I know," but kept quiet, knowing well how much of an insane man he already appeared to be. Still distracted, he made no objection for the festivities to continue. He only gave a moment's consideration to move his quarters to the VIP chambers up in the tower.
There was always the Scimitar.
Gar returned to him with an expectative look, closely followed by Rook.
"That ought to calm them down until tomorrow. My lord, a word?"
"Do speak freely, Saxon." Maul followed him, noted his tight jaw muscles over his collar. "Something troubles you."
A light scoff escaped the man's nostrils as he shot a weary look over his shoulder down the hallway. Rook quietly walked behind them.
"It's the civilians," Saxon spoke between his teeth. "They want to see their true leader."
Maul stopped and clasped his hands in his back, rolling his eyes down then at Kast. "Isn't that why we have Almec?"
Gar almost made another sarcastic sound, then pointed a gloved index at his helmet design. "They're not naive, and they're sick of politicians."
"You already know my answer and you would not waste my time with this," Maul formulated at the Death Watch commander, "unless you already had an idea in mind. So out with it."
"Join us for lunch tomorrow," Gar said, lifting a brow at the suggestion. "Get some face time with the locals."
He took a sharp inhale and studied his two officers sparing no signals of his state of mind.
"Yes, I am sure I have a disposition for face time with families, posing for pictures, then appearing on every news source of the HoloNet. Thus exposing ourselves to the Republic…" He let his rumblings trail off, seeing the two drop their shoulders in defeat. He softened his expression and focused on Rook for a moment. "We just ended a civil war in your homeworld, you finally have peace. I would not be eager to throw that away so easily."
Another man would have used the respite to recuperate and reunite with his kin, to rest from the fatigue of war and bloodshed. But the war was only beginning. Maul knew this calm after the storm was an illusion, and he was being ignored by the enemy. One much more powerful than some underground crime lord.
Fear would have driven him to run and hide, instead he stood within the highest tower of Sundari, eyes lost on the horizon of the cityscape. From where he stood, not one individual could be identified through the bay window. The interior of the suite was sober yet refined, fitting for a high profile diplomat. With several rooms and all of their necessities at his disposal, he could lead what remained of the Shadow Collective from there and never have to reveal himself.
Maul rumbled with irritation at the thought. Working from the shadows was not in his nature. He relished taking his men out to combat, to face death itself, to spill blood and spread fear upon their adversaries. The aggression fueled him, and for the first time since Savage, he found a semblance of kinship.
The soft voice threatened to pull him from his ruminations again, but he shut it down. He caught himself unconsciously rubbing the activation switch of the comlink encased in his gauntlet.
The line was secured and especially encrypted. It was safe to contact anyone, anywhere.
He cussed at himself. No distractions.
*
"We don't have to be enemies. We don't have to fight."
He faced her with determined steps hoping she would lose her footing and fall backwards into the void. But Eldra Kaitis kept talking.
By the Force, she liked to talk.
"You don't have to give yourself over so completely to this… Darkness."
Containing a roar of frustration, he stopped himself, finding it all too easy to shove her to her death if he let his anger take control of him. That was not the way he wanted to face her. It was not the time.
"If you believe that," Maul retorted through his clenched teeth, "you are not the Jedi I thought you were."
What she said next was a blur, and in his mind, Maul only found confirmation that he had found the right adversary to confirm his skills and ability to take upon himself the revenge of all the Sith. But Eldra never relented with her provocations. Insulting his dignity as his master's apprentice, getting under his skin.
As more bounty hunters arrived on Drezkal to hunt them down, her strength did not waiver and she proved herself perfectly capable in combat. He had observed her wield that lightsaber, as she had been watching him, studying his every move. They both planned their tactics for their final confrontation.
After another wave of attackers that consisted of assassin droids -- quite surely owned by a bounty hunter who possessed more credits than courage -- they found a landed light freighter on top of a plateau, ramp open and ready for the taking. This was their chance.
Maul almost ran to race Eldra for the transport, using the Force to stop her progress and through the Force he scanned for nearby threats. His sentry droids were unavailable, most likely destroyed in the skirmishes. But he sensed several hunters coming towards them. At least three groups.
"It's now or never, Sith. I know you don't want any witnesses."
Growling at her insolence, Maul ignited his double-bladed lightsaber and she followed suit, holding the single hilt loosely in her right hand.
He needed this to be quick, or they would be caught in another crossfire and perhaps jeopardize a chance to leave this rock, whoever the survivor. But Maul had found his match, she was equally strong, agile and willing to survive now that they had hope to escape.
Then, he sensed it. Her anger, her mirrored rage against him, her hatred as she found that she could never sway him or pursue an alliance with her greatest enemy. The Dark Side was slowly taking control of her, giving her strength and she used it.
She relished in it. Maul began to doubt.
Neither his ferocity nor his aggression could weaken her. And that doubt made him lose his footing, setting him up at a safe distance for her to strike her last move. Her lightsaber nearly severing his body in half had he not stepped backwards, leaving a molten gash across his chest. The searing pain served to plant Maul in the Dark Side, discarding his robes and getting back in form to finish the Jedi.
Blaster fire came from either side of them, signatures circling the ship, warning of the end of their duel.
No! He had no time to curse or shout. The blaze of pure blue light flew above his head and he deviated the flying lightsaber with a swat of his own, spinning to bat off a volley of blaster bolts coming his way. When he turned again he could only see the azure lekku of the padawan running towards the ship's ramp, swiftly dodging incoming fire.
A low rumble and tremors shook the ground, and fractions of a second later an avalanche of rocks slid off the side of the mountain behind Maul. That lightsaber throw, that was her goal, to bury him.
Using his rage to propel himself forward, Maul swept the rain of rocks, but also the red and blue plasma bolts that aimed to slow him down before he could make his own escape. The tail lights of the ship flashed and the engines came online with a loud hiss, the ramp slowly retracted and raised, so did the struts below the thrusters.
A last Force leap and a few shots into his side and shoulder blade, Maul caught the edge of the closing ramp. Powered by adrenalin and his hateful hunger for revenge, he heaved himself into the cargo hold.
He felt the force effect of the push as the ship lifted into the atmosphere, ascending to orbit where a second of weightlessness preceded the jump to hyperspace.
Sparing not a second more, he rushed across the corridors towards the sole entity present on board, bumping into bulkheads until he found the passage towards the cockpit, having to climb a ladder and walk through an airlock. Eldra rose from the pilot's seat, feet in position as she faced him. The look in her eyes was that of a woman on her last strings of hope, her one remaining ounce of courage before giving her life away on a principle.
Maul stopped in the passageway, blocking the door from closing even though she showed no intention of locking him out. The Force nagged at him.
Not like this. An unarmed, desperate and defeated creature that had still managed to surpass his expectations. The blue and white streaks of hyperspace through the canopy in her back was indication enough that neither of them could win this fight.
"You're bleeding," she flatly said, not giving up her combat stance.
Heaving as he caught his breath, Maul searched for the navigation controls and stepped in, shoved her aside to pull them out of their route, wherever that could be.
Eldra pushed him back with her shoulder and tried to catch his wrists but he was physically stronger. She then resorted to punching his blaster wounds in order to stop him but he had known worse pain in his training. The navicomputer was set to a random course with no set destination.
Maul let out a short sigh. He did fear his master. If he ever came back to Coruscant only death would await him. His master would know immediately of his transgression.
His vision blurred and he heard the thumping of his doubled pulse in his ear drums from the drop of adrenalin. His skin felt like he was on fire. Ignoring the enraged woman beside him, he slid into the pilot's chair leaning his forehead against the metal hilt of his weapon. He could never know how safe he was until he would no longer be, and eventually he would have to face Darth Sidious again.
"We made it," said her voice after what felt like several minutes. "You can calm down now."
Seething, he refused to meet her gaze. "If you so much as use the communications to contact anyone, especially your Jedi friends, I will end you. Ritual or not."
"Might as well just do it now then," she stated with typical Jedi arrogance. "I don't plan on having you as a chaperon for the rest of my life."
The spike of anger made him stand abruptly, he caught her by the throat, pinning her against the back of the co-pilot's seat. His face was suddenly so close to her he could smell her skin and light perspiration that clung to her clothes. But above all he sensed her rage and hatred, burning white hot through her unblinking eyes.
Eldra Kaitis knew no fear. She pushed that aside to make way for pure aggression, that predator instinct he had seen among the fiercest creatures he encountered in his many hunts across the galaxy.
"Did I pull the right string?" she continued provoking him. "Tell me, Sith. Who is your master? Who do you fear so much that the slight mention of being watched would make you react this way?"
Sickened by her, the sound of her voice, the look on her face, the smell of her, on her clothes, on his hand, he released her with a grunt and turned back to the console. His eyes darted around until he found the comms transmitter. Summoning the Force into a precise location below the dash panel, smoke rose from the small keyboard, rendering the comlink unusable.
"Oh, no," she voiced her protest in what sounded like dread. "You are not trapping me here with you."
He could kill her with his bare hands but the mere idea repulsed him. It was unbecoming of a Sith, to toy around with his prey, even though she was not defenseless, it was not honorable.
But what was honor when he chose to escape with the Jedi? Instead, he could have sabotaged the ship and after getting rid of his attackers, look for another means of travel. For honor, he had stalled his own plans when he was so close to his wish.
And with the Force he waited. Perhaps would he learn patience?
He would burn for this either way.
Far above, far below…
"Say something, Sith!"
Pulled into focus again he relaxed his grip on the headrest of the chair and she moved before he could set his eyes on her again. Fidgeting around the cockpit, she pulled open drawers and small cabinets.
"If no one's going to be the adult here then at least do something to patch up those wounds. I don't want to have to smell them when they get infected. How are you even standing?"
It was a mercenary ship and it was unlikely that its owners would keep medkits readily available.
Standing tall he stretched his left arm and felt a tear to his ribcage and his right bicep, skin, muscle and nerves charred black at the impacts. The larger cut across his chest was the most serious one, making him breathe the smell of his own burnt flesh. He growled in his throat, using the pain to keep his wits sharp.
Eldra shuffled ration bars and pouches in one of the drawers, shaking her head, making her blue lekku dance in her back.
"We're gonna have to look in the medbay," she commented.
She barely had a trace of injury on her dirt-stained skin, small scratches barely noticeable on her bare, toned arms. Maul snapped out of his observation when she slapped the drawer shut. He stopped her from making her way out of the cockpit, using the wall switch to lock the door to her face.
"Do not play tricks on me, Jedi," he grunted.
Propping a hand on her hip she squinted her eyes at him. "What's the plan, then? Sith. "
Sucking a breath through his teeth he reluctantly spoke.
"We escape from the bounty hunters. Find you a lightsaber. And we finish what we started."
"What you started."
"Silence."
He shot a murdering glance at her smiling face.
"You know, it's going to take a while to get those kyber crystals. Unless you let me borrow one of yours," she pointed her chin towards the hilt attached to his belt. "Two blades, that means you have a spare."
Scoffing at her proposal he hated how she so casually embarked him into her foolish ideas. Her stupidity was below him.
"Please do not insult me with your ignorance. Bled kyber crystals are not to be wielded by the likes of you. You wouldn't even know how to benefit from its full potential… To control its power."
She crossed her arms against her breasts and smirked at him.
"You Sith like to control everything, don't you?"
His master did control everything. It was a fact and not a whim. Maul held the thought as his cornerstone, the undenying truth and absolute state of the galaxy. But seeing that control in full demanded patience, and total obedience on his part.
He was the instrument of that control. The weapon that was to be revealed in due time. If only he would prove himself worthy of the title of Sith…
Eldra grabbed the seat closest to her and sat herself down, extracting a ration bar from a trouser pocket. She peeled off the wrapping and made a short sigh.
"Looks like you need to think things through for a while. I suggest you go get some bacta dressing. Maybe throw on a shirt."
She took a bite and munched the protein bar without appetite, eyes lost in the swirl of hyperspace.
"I'm not leaving you out of my sight," he retorted.
"Then let's hope one of us is dead before either needs to evacuate waste."
He could not retain an irritated groan. "Is everything a joke to you?"
"Ah," she chuckled, and covered the remaining ration food into the wrapper before stowing it back in her pocket. "I find this predicament rather amusing, considering what I've been through so far. How many times I've escaped death only to find myself running off into the sun with an enemy who swore to kill me."
Her calm, her soft demeanor and all around pleasant delivery set him aback, unable to voice his protests against her attitude. She went on, inspecting her nails.
"And you don't even know me, I'm no one, just a padawan who happened to get captured by traffickers. You wanted to kill a Jedi but you picked me, expecting a fair fight for your little ritual… As if an enslaved padawan would be worthy of you. And here we are, and I'm still alive because you want to play fair."
His master had warned him not to come close to the Jedi, to protect his secrecy, to bide his time before they could reveal themselves. But it was too late, Maul had crossed that line for the last time. He was as good as dead. Looking through the canopy ahead he unclenched his fists slowly.
Her gaze was on him again, trailing from his body to his eyes. And her words stung. They cut him deeper than he had suspected.
"You saved my life, you know?"
Maul turned away and sat once more, lowering his eyelids to seek meditation. To somehow forget the absurd reality he had thrust himself into.
He had condemned them both.
Engulfed in the void of meditative state, his thoughts went quiet, allowing his mind and body to be centered again. The Force beckoned to him with tantalizing whispers using no language, wordless promises of greatness and accomplishment. He felt secure in his choices even though nothing appeared to have gone right.
Hey.
He felt a nudge on his forearm that yanked him out of the transe. Blazing eyes met the Twi'lek's who stood next to his seat.
"Hey," she repeated, weary in her voice and face. She removed her hand from him. "I need to use the refresher."
Exhaling through his nose, Maul did not shift from his position.
"You will not address me so informally, padawan."
She let out her own annoyed sigh, letting her shoulders drop. "Then tell me your name since you know mine. Start using it, too."
He'd had no intention to let her know his identity, to take into consideration having any sort of rapport between them until his choices no longer mattered. The Force was silent again. And the fact that she had pulled him out of meditation by nudging his arm was another transgression he added to his ever-growing list.
"Fine," he relented and heaved himself up, wincing at the fresh skin pulling from his injuries.
He took a deep breath to ensure he would not lose his balance as he walked behind her through the ship. At the foot of the ladder she searched left and right in each cabin and room, locating engineering, the crew quarters, the captain's cabin, a small kitchen and then the medbay. It was close to the cargo hold and of large enough space for medical droids to operate on two patients.
They rummaged through the cabinets. Maul found a medkit that he spread open on the scanning table and took a couple of adhesive bacta patches. He sprayed the disinfectant to wash away the grime and dust on himself. The sting on his cuts made him tense his muscles, suddenly aware of his surroundings where one could easily access knives, sharp tools and instruments with which to attack him.
He turned his attention over his shoulder to see Eldra's back as she manipulated a device, head down in focus. There was no ill intent emanating from her in the Force.
"You're going to need stitches on your chest," she simply worded, turning around with a medical stapler in hand. She held it triumphantly like a blaster pistol.
Maul marched to her and grabbed the machine in a forceful gesture, unable to wipe the smirk off her face.
He warned her. "Keep your distance, pad--... Eldra Kaitis."
Her lips stretched to a full smile that did not reach her eyes.
"See, that wasn't so hard." She crossed her arms and leaned on the counter behind her. Upon inspecting her elbows she started lightly brushing around her cuts and bruises. "It's so bright here, I should really freshen up…"
As if he wasn't in the room, she raised her right arm and pointed her nose towards her pit, showcasing a nauseated expression.
"Your deceit and manipulations are wasted on me," he mocked, about to apply a gel patch on his arm. "I was trained to detect suspicious behavior long before you were able to hold a weapon."
"That's cute."
Baring his teeth at her he ignored the taunt. "Go. You have five minutes."
Eldra did not wait. She made her way towards the door without losing sight of him, dramatically squinting over her shoulder until she was in the corridor.
Finally alone, Maul sighed audibly and pressed his backside against the table, shifting the weight off his legs and proceeded to patch his side. The first one nearly fell off so he tore pieces of adhesive tape to secure the bacta squares. He then smeared the regenerative gel over his chest, wincing at the hot and cold sensations. The lightsaber cut was going to leave a mean scar, disfiguring his tattoos.
The padawan returned before he even suspected it. She was wearing her same clothes and boots, but her black top had longer sleeves that she rolled up to her elbows. Something else was different and it caught his attention. She was restless. Busying herself with the first aid supplies she was obviously trying to avoid looking at him.
Curious, Maul took the disinfectant bottle and tossed it at her. Eldra caught it with surprise, her face questioning him silently.
"For those cuts," he motioned with his chin.
She appeared to weigh her options before she mirrored his posture and tended to her arms. Her mischievous smile returned. "Thank you… Sith. "
He suppressed a growl which sounded like a rumble in his chest. He could feel the Force flowing over and within him, through his veins and his hearts. He also imagined the vivid snarl of a displeased, aged, pale man beneath a large cowl. Taking a short breath he corrected her.
"Maul."