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Akiris landed her shuttle in the hangar. She could feel her heart beating in her chest. It was always like that when she came here, delivering the latest child she'd taken from their home.
This time it was a green-skinned Nautolan. Only six years old, and now an orphan. His parents had tried to fight Akiris. She had ended their lives in one swift stroke before they could.
Memories stirred her mind. Memories of memories that weren't hers. Memories of someone she had once been close to, who had shown them to her through the bond they shared...
She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away. She went to the cargo hold of the shuttle, where the young Nautolan was strapped into one of the seats. He was staring at nothing, still processing what had happened in the past 24 hours.
"Get up," Akiris said, keeping her voice low. The boy gave no sign he heard her. Akiris grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "I said, get up!"
Immediately, his head snapped up, back to reality. "What?"
Akiris let out an annoyed sigh. "We're here. Come on."
Wordlessly, the boy undid his straps and got out. "Where are we?"
"Your new home," Akiris murmured, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of the ship.
"I don't like this," the young Nautolan whimpered when they walked through the hangar. "I want to go to mom and dad."
"They're dead, kid," Akiris responded, not looking at him.
Tears welled up in the boy's eyes. "Why did you kill them?" he suddenly cried. A few purge troopers' helmets snapped towards them. Akiris stared back at them until they quickly turned away.
"I told you, I had no other choice," she said softly. "If they hadn't resisted, they would have been alive. It's their own fault." Even as she said the words, she didn't believe them herself. All the Nautolans had done was protect their child. They'd done what Akiris's mother hadn't done. And Akiris had killed them for it. She couldn't stop the guild she felt creeping up on her.
The young Nautolan said nothing. As they walked through the Imperial corridors, he stuck close to her. Even though she was the one who killed his parents, she was the only point of familiarity for him.
A droid rolled up to her. "My lady, if you would follow me, we have prepared the quarters for this latest subject." It turned around and beckoned for them to follow.
Akiris recognised the droid. It was the same type that had taken care of her during her first couple years in the academy, before she had joined the other acolytes, and met Ronin...
A familiar anger burned through her as she thought of her former friend. He was still out there, somewhere. Someday, she would find him. And when she did, she would...
A small hand grabbed hers. She looked down to see the boy staring back at her. There was a sort of compassion in his black eyes. It briefly warmed Akiris's heart before the realisation dawned of what would happen to that compassion. She swallowed and looked away. In another time, this boy would have made an excellent Jedi, much better than she could have ever been.
The droid stopped in front of a door. The door opened, revealing a grey, blank room. It looked exactly the same as the one Akiris had lived in for years, during her time in the academy.
"Your training starts tomorrow," the droid stated to the boy. "You will remain here until then." Then, it rolled away.
Akiris knew it was time for her to go as well. Still, she lingered in the doorway for a little longer, watching as the boy settled on the lone bed in the room. After a moment, he looked back at her. "You're sad."
Akiris forced a smile. "What makes you say that?"
"I see it."
He was perceptive. Strong in the Force, definitely. And compassionate. That wouldn't serve him well in the academy. It was designed to stomp that compassion out, after all.
"Will I see you again?" the boy asked, surprising Akiris.
"Perhaps," she said softly. "If you survive."
"How do I do that?"
"You have to stay strong," Akiris said. "Draw power from fear, from anger, from hatred," she recited the words the Emperor had told her so long ago, before handing her to the Grand Inquisitor.
The boy looked confused. "But what should I hate?"
"Anything," Akiris shrugged. "The Empire, the other acolytes, me. Whatever works." She turned to leave
"But I don't hate you."
Akiris froze at his words. She looked back, her voice darkening. "Well, you should. I killed your parents."
"But you're sad about them," the boy said. He hesitated, and then added: "I forgive you."
Something inside Akiris snapped. Without another word, she closed the door and walked away. She walked back to the hangar as fast as she could, not allowing herself to think about anything. Troopers, droids, and officers hurried out of her way as she strode past. She felt like she was on autopilot as she got in the shuttle, took off, and entered the coordinates to Nur in the navicomputer. Only once she was in hyperspace, she broke down.
Akiris cried. She cried for the boy she'd just taken. She cried for his parents, whom she'd just killed. She cried for the other children, who were also stuck there. She cried for all their parents, both dead and alive, whose lives had changed forever because of her.
And the boy had forgiven her. By all rights, he should hate her. She hated herself for it, for all the lives she'd ruined. But somehow, he didn't. He was six years old; he couldn't have understood the complex situation she was in, which forced her to do what she did. And yet he'd forgiven her.
He was a good kid. And at the academy, that was gonna get him killed.
By the time she arrived at Nur, Akiris had recomposed herself. All her grief and feelings were pushed behind her shields. They were weaknesses. If any of the other Inquisitors noticed, they would use it as a way to humiliate her, or some other advantage to themselves.
Akiris kept her face straight as she strolled down the shuttle's ramp, into the hangar of Fortress Inquisitorius. It was as busy as it always was. The number of Inquisitors had dwindled over the years, but the organisation had remained the same. Officers barking orders, troopers marching, droids walking and rolling around, doing whatever tasks they were assigned, it was all business as usual. As if they weren't in the business of making the galaxy a terrible place.
Akiris walked past all of them, not paying them any attention, keeping her head down. The less people noticed her, the better. Once out of the hangar, she walked straight towards the Grand Inquisitor's office.
As soon as she entered the office, the pau'an looked up. "Ah, Fourteenth Sister." Akiris nodded as a curt reply. "Were you successful in your mission?"
"Target was secured and delivered to Arkanis," Akiris gave her report, doing her best to hide her emotions.
But the Grand Inquisitor noticed them anyway, as his lips curled up in a cruel smile. "Excellent, Sister. Once again, you have proven yourself to be the most efficient hunter for Project Harvester. Tomorrow, I'll have another mission for you."
Akiris hid her scowl. Another mission. Another family to be ruined. "Yes, sir." Her voice was completely devoid of emotion. Part of her wanted to take out her lightsaber and wipe that smug smile off the pau'an's face. It would be of no use, she knew. He would stop her long before she got close. And while, sure, she had some tricks up her sleeve when it came to a lightsaber battle, it would be futile here. She'd just waste whatever goodwill she'd built up with her past successful missions. And she couldn't have that, if she was to survive.
The Grand Inquisitor studied her for another moment. "Dismissed," he finally said.
Once out of his office, Akiris let out a brief sigh of relief before heading towards her room. On the way there, she bumped into the Eighth Brother. "Watch where you're going, Sister," he growled at her.
"Stay out of my way then," Akiris shot back.
The Eighth Brother glared back at her. "Watch your tongue, Sister," he said softly. "Or I might just cut it out."
"Well, good luck with that," Akiris spat as she pushed past him, ignoring whatever other remarks he made at her.
She entered her room. It was mostly barren, compared to other Inquisitors' rooms, save for a single training saber hanging on the wall, and a couple books from the Inquisitorius library piled up in the corner.
Finally, Akiris let out her frustration. She flung her lightsaber to the wall, where, after a thud, it landed next to the books. Then she threw her shoulder pads on the floor and crashed onto her bed, not bothering to take off the rest of her armour. She hid her head in between her arms, as if she could hide away from the world around her.
There, she lay for several hours, crawled up in a ball, not sleeping, not thinking, not doing anything at all. If any other Inquisitors had entered, they'd scoffed at her weakness.
Outside of the small window that looked out over the oceans of Nur, it became night. When it was fully dark, Akiris finally moved. Her mind felt numb, devoid of any emotion. Absentmindedly, she reached out and touched the training saber on the wall, something she often did whenever she felt like this. It brought back memories of another time. A time at the Inquisitor academy, when things had been better. Not that the Inquisitor Academy had been good, but there had been her one friend. Ronin.
She remembered the late-night hours, when they would go to one of the training rooms and train together. They'd practice new moves, spar together, and sometimes talk. It was there where they had formed their bond in the Force. A bond which had been dormant ever since he'd abandoned her.
Akiris subconsciously clenched her fist in anger at the thought. He'd abandoned her, choosing another friend who was too weak and escape together. He'd told her, and she'd told him not to go. He hadn't listened.
She looked out of the window at the starry night sky. He was out there, somewhere, she knew. Probably hiding with his friend, Goose, in a place the Inquisitorius hadn't looked. Someday, Akiris had sworn, she would snuff him out. She'd make him pay for abandoning her. For destroying that one small piece of comfort she'd had in her life.
But sometimes, in quiet moments like this, when she felt devoid of any emotion, she wondered, had he perhaps had the right idea?