Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away....

It had been two years since Anakin Skywalker dawned the cape of Darth Vader and conquered the galaxy by Emperor Palpatine’s side. The Jedi who survived Order 66 continued to diminish as he hunted them down and eradicated their history for good.

Meanwhile, Maul returned to the underworld with what was left of the Shadow Collective when Darth Sidious erected his new Empire. Building his rage on overruling the Emperor, he began another crime syndicate of his own known as the Crimson Veil by absorbing the lesser gangs into his shadow and becoming one of the most feared organizations in the underworld.

Unbeknownst to these crime lords, Emperor Palpatine had set his next course for eradicating their groups in the Outer Rim—creating his ultimate galaxy where no one could undermine his power.

***

The belly of a starship glided through the empty black void, and toward a desolate space station on the brink of collapsing on itself due to its long existence since the end of the Old Republic. What was once a beautiful station for military operations became a massive, floating pile of metal that housed thousands lifeforms along with the constant throng of travelers who sought temporary refuge from the Empire; exactly the kind of place the pilot of the battered starship needed. As if hobbling with its last bit of strength, it continued in silence reaching for a final salvation.

-

The Abolition was a space station in the Outer Rim which outlasted centuries of wars and peace. It had seen Sith rise and fall in the Old Republic and watched the Jedi deliver peace throughout the galaxy in the age of the High Republic. It’s current purpose only festers some of the most despicable beings across the galaxy: bounty hunters, gamblers, slave traders. Finding any good soul is as hard as searching for a wall without rust, grease, and bloodstains. The atmosphere was just barely filtered enough to breathe without it being on toxic levels, and the lighting dim as if the residents were creatures who despised bright, open areas like roaches. But, the place was without laws and out of the Empire’s reach, which was why Durmónia sought shelter among the outlaws; becoming one with their unlawful ways and poor demeanor. At a second or third glance, anyone would only suspect her of being a lowbred thug with an annoying personality, or an impulsive jokester with an impenetrable wall to separate herself from other life forms. Just one of a billion in the galaxy within a greasy hovel, surrounded by customers, workers, steam, and food.

Customers clad in ripped and worn clothing, yelled, or smoked cigarras around the rickety tables with equally as rickety chairs. Despite the diner’s slimy appearance, everyone took spoon fulls of their meal until their plates were licked clean. The single waiter, a class-three droid and the cleanest, brightest thing around, rolled on its one wheel to a table and picked up the dishes. In a fit of laughter, a sullastan wailed his arms and spilled his drink all over the droid who, without comment, took the now empty cup and rolled away. It made its way past the filled bar to a sliding door where the wonderfully scented steam came from.

Metal clanked, dishes clattered, and chatter among the cooks filled the sweaty hovel. A knife thinly sliced a long, red potato in quick succession until it reached the end. The blade moved the slices to the side and moved onto an onion; again, sliced thinly in mere seconds. With the blade and a hand with a brown complexion, they scooped up the sliced bits and dropped them in a brewing pot. The same hand took a pinch of red powder from a bowl and sprinkled it into the bubbling brown liquid with lumps of meat.

An ithorian, Tureis, checked a cracked screen with orders popping up every ten minutes or so. The flaps along the sides of his long neck flexed and blew out his native language through the exposed holes.

“I know. It’s almost done." Durmónia wiped her sweating brow with a towel and checked another pot. The contents of this one were thick, white, and creamy. She dipped a spoon for taste.

Tureis aired out its concern and waved an arm at her.

“Blow your paranoia elsewhere. There’s nowhere else in the galaxy they can afford a gourmet meal, so I’m sure they can wait a couple more minutes.”

With a pound against his chest, the ithorian blasted his final words, followed by a definitive finger point at her then to himself. He stomped with his heavy feet to another one of his underlings and smelled their concoction.

Durmónia stirred the contents with a deep frown set in her features. “Right. You the boss.”

An amani pattered his way beside her and loomed his two-meter-tall body over the soup. He took a creamy spoonful of it and moaned his satisfaction while licking a long tongue across his short snout. “I hope there’ll be leftovers to take home tonight.”

“Better in your stomach than those creatures out there who can’t tell the difference between stew and bisque.”

“Soup is soup to people who have never seen cheap, good food.”

“It’s a disservice to my talent.”

The amani rolled his yellow eyes, bored of the constant, boastful reminders of her more fulfilling past before the Empire. But hidden behind the galore of food and quick techniques in the kitchen, Zione could feel in the twitch of his tail there was more to the human than what she led on. In fact, the only thing known about her was her love to cook and the growing success she had on Coruscant. She could have led a life of grandeur servicing the Imperials, for what sort of threat could a cook possibly bring to undermine the Emperor’s sovereignty? As far as Zione’s beady eyes could tell, she was capable of much, much more.

“Are you volunteering for the upcoming shockball match?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t you get back to checking on those rolls, Zione?”

“We’ve all cast our bets on whether you’re in or not. And there’s rumor you need the credits.”

The human eyed him with a sideways glance, “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Just a couple of us traders: Shysha, Ximale… Kymeri.”

Durmónia ground her teeth, “I’m going to pluck his eyes out.”

“No good now. He’s gone off on a trade run. Won’t be back until after the shockball tournament.”

The woman clicked her tongue. "Day after tomorrow. What’s the rumor?”

“You’ve been looking for real expensive medicine.”

“That it?”

“Just about.”

Durmónia poured the creamy soup into a bowl and handed it to the waiting droid. “I’ll get you cleaned when you finish this round, Betts.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Móni,” Betts' vocabulator lit as she spoke in a somber tone. She rolled away in a moderately slow pace and did not attempt to avoid any of the staff who nearly tripped over her as they dodged out of her way with food or sharp objects in hand.

“Did the fat lug tell you directly?” she continued.

“No. Came from a secondhand source. But I can find out the details,” his grin extended almost to the temples of his head, “for a price.”

She faced him with a fist on her hip. “Let’s do this.”

“Maridun beetle with chian berry sauce and sliced dithe.”

“I assume you have the ingredients since it’s from your homeworld.”

“All yours. Just make a bunch. And like always, it’s gotta be good for the deal to fall through.”

“You bet your tail it’s going to be good.”

Zione hissed a chuckle, but soon the laughter left his smile and transformed into a lopsided smirk. “There’s also another bet going around.”

“How Ximale lost his testicles?”

The amani’s tiny eyes grew twice its size. “What? No. Not that.”

“Huh. Well, don’t keep me in suspense here.”

“It’s about you. Seems like someone’s trying to dig up your past.”

Durmónia paused stir-frying a pan with blue onions and purple mushrooms for just the briefest of a second, but it did not get passed Zione unnoticed. As small his eyes may be, they were sharp and embedded into his species’ DNA to catch quick movements when his ancestors went hunting in the swamps of his damp world.

She forced a laugh. “That’s flattering. Who knew a cook and a part-time shockball player got people’s attention? But I hate to break it to you—my life is and was filled with food. I dream about it, I think about it, I sing about it, and I pray to it. I hope you didn’t bet on anything crazy like me being a Jedi or a Republican pilot or something.”

Zione licked his snout. “It was a tempting. But I didn’t place anything.”

“That’s a shame. You could have made something if you bet there was nothing exciting about me, and won’t be found dead in an alley somewhere.”

The amani studied her and she felt his uneasy gaze. When Durmónia looked up, she shook hard with laughter. “It was a joke. A joke.” She punched his arm. “You’re a black market trader, you’re not supposed to be gullible.”

He lifted a hand too large in proportion to his thin body and scratched behind his mushroom-top head. He gave an airy chuckle, “Yeah, you’re right. I think the past few years without making any heavy deals has dampened my skills a little.”

“Just a little. I think it’s good you’re trying to make an honest living for yourself. It’s challenging but fun.”

“Speaking of near-retired black market traders. Tell me about this thing with Ximale.”

“You can make real money with this one. It’s gold. Plus, I’m acquainted with some twi’leks who know who cut it off.”

Zione’s tongue hung out as he made a silent laugh—an indication he’s laughing very hard, “This is going to be good.”

They laughed together and continued doing so even when Tureis blew out some angry notes at them.

Zione watched her bunched, black curls on the back of her head bounce as she maneuvered around and chuckled away the remnants of her laugh. Even though it had been two years since he made any notable trade, his skills had far from dampened. He used it every day: watching customers whisper deals to each other; the discreet meetings in dark corners; the ghost hands passing credits or holodisks to one another; and past relations who continue to bribe him for his connections. If anything, his expertise had nearly grown to a level of mastery from observing occurrences afar. And, without a doubt, Durmónia’s offhand “joke” was no joke at all. It was a warning.

-

The ship’s engines sputtered and died before the pilot had the chance to execute a landing procedure. It dropped on the ground in the loading bay area and collided with another docked ship. If it wasn’t already damaged before, the floor became even more so as the ship nearly took it beneath its belly. Sentient and droid workers came around the collision, raising fists and spewing curses in their language or binary beeps. When the bay door opened halfway, smoke seeped out followed by a figure encased in a black cloak. It leaped out from the entrance and made a clean, soundless landing. Without a glance at the mess it created, it continued forward. When it approached the angry ensemble, it Force pushed them away, except for a rodian and sullistan.

The figure held them in his grip with the Force while observing the docked spacecrafts. Each one was in poor condition and required an immense overhaul in every fathomable area possible: crooked wings, rusted engines, and incompetent maintenance. Regrettably, the only way to lift the heaps of trash into space would be the owners themselves who understood every nook and cranny of their vessel and the expertise to fly it without delay or major setbacks. Even if the figure were to find the ships’ owners, it wouldn’t feel safe flying across the galaxy in them; much less through hyperspace.

Gloved hands closed in on the sullistan and rodian's faces and entered their thoughts, the beings convulsing in pain from the intrusion. “Where can I find a fit ship?”

“I don’t," the sullistan grit his teeth, "know. Maybe the black market.”

A growl of disapproval emitted from within the shadowed face. Of course. In a place like the Abolition, it was impossible to get anything worthwhile straight from a seller’s hands, and the last thing he wanted to do was waste time bribing the insects who dwelled there, for he was short of it.

“Do you know a dealer who can sell me a craft?”

The pathetic creature shook his head, but the rodian with bulbous obsidian eyes popping out from the strain in his head spoke out.

“I know.”

The black cowl shifted. “Who can I speak to?”

“Arsenal.”

“Arsenal?”

“An amani who has anything and knows everyone. Hard to contact.”

The figure hummed his curiosity, “Maybe for you.” With a wave of his hand, he sent the two figures flying across the hangar bay, hitting headfirst against the wall with a resounding and pleasing crack of their skulls. When alarmed voices closed in on the standing male, he blended into the shadows—all traces of him gone.

-

A wide fingertip wiped across the metal counter and raised between wide-set eyes of the boss ithorian. He rubbed his fingers together.

By the back exit of the kitchen his staff were lined up, dressed in their civilian clothing and carrying their belongings; waiting in mortifying anticipation to leave. Durmónia gripped the strap of her bag with a finger tapping against her collarbone.

The ithorian placed both hands behind his back and blew out a positive note.

His staff cheered at the dismissal as they exit the kitchen. Without turning, he blew another curt note that had Durmónia stop in her tracks, everyone leaving before her.

“I’ll wait outside,” Betts rolled out.

A soft inhale, then sigh, “Yeah, Boss?”

The ithorian vocalized without turning around. Concern etched in the waves of air, as well as annoyance. Durmónia scratched her head. “There’s nothing I can do about your cargo mix up. The only active connection I know to the black market is Kymeri… And he’s not entirely trustworthy.”

Tureis waved a hand in dismissal. He finally turned to make eye contact and blew out his annoyance, then in one swift beat turned to anger.

Impressed, Durmónia replied, “Oh? My help? Has the Empire fallen already?”

Tureis’ air vents went the widest she had ever seen since. He slammed a fist on the counter and pointed an accusing finger at her.

Durmónia raised her hands in defense, “Alright, I’ll cut the jokes. Why don’t you just sell them and try getting the products you wanted with that money?”

After scratching the nape of his wide neck, the head chef wore an expression of concern. Quiet notes blew out.

She blew out her own impressed whistle, “No good here huh? I’ve got to say, though—you’re lucky to come across some rare crustaceans. Only those in the core worlds have the luxury to eat it. No one would understand that but you and I, I suppose.”

The ithorian narrowed its black-marble eyes. He adjusted his uniform and forced himself to be composed as if these next few notes were something he was ashamed of. He blew them out.

A beat of silence. Durmónia blinked without emotion. Then once again with confusion as she repeated the notes in her head. The third, her lids revealed bright orange eyes.

“Yes! I know how to cook them! I can make--”

Tureis stopped her with a hand. He folded two fingers.

“Three dishes. Okay. But I get to pick them?”

He returned his hand behind his back. After a pause, he nodded his head.

Durmónia refrained from jumping up and down in the ithorian’s presence. “You’re going to be the number one diner in the system. No! The galaxy! If there’s one thing I love about this deadbeat space station is the affordable food. I’ll come to work tomorrow morning with three dishes. You won’t be disappointed.”

She started heading for the exit, ready to start writing down possible recipes that are brewing in her head. The door slid open, she stepped out and it closed behind her. The door opened again.

“Thanks, Boss!” The door slid close again.

Tureis shook his head with a hand on his elongated head.

With pep in her steps, Durmónia skipped and slid without breaking the enormous grin on her face.

“Finally! After a year, he’s admitted he can’t run the diner without me. It was just a hole in the wall before I came along and rescued it from the brink of destruction. Now it’s going to be twice as popular.”

Betts rolled beside her in silence. Listening to her bursting pride for the past ten minutes.

“Maybe I should start my own place. It would have to be on a planet, though. I don’t want to serve these delinquents anymore. They don’t deserve to taste my talent.”

“Móni,” Betts called.

“What kind of place would it be? A small place, where only the most exceptional can find.”

“Móni.”

“Simple dishes. Elegant.”

“Móni.”

“What?”

“The point of us coming here was not to be known. Seen. Your food could eventually track the attention of Stormtroopers, then officials.”

Móni soured her lips in annoyance, “Way to spoil the mood. It’s not like the Emperor would know.”

“No. But officials answer to Vader, which could possibly lead him to you. They can’t know about your existence.”

“It’s just an old guy with his mouth-breathing apprentice. How bad could it possibly be?”

Betts sighed with disgust.

Móni changed face. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and exhaled through her nose, “Sorry, Betts."

She thought of Zione's new revelation; someone was tracking her. She's used to being the source of many topics of conversation, but so were hundreds of other races. Móni wasn't a very interesting person from afar--other than her shockball skills--but what struck as strange was Kymeri's involvement. They were acquaintances, less than that really, and him digging into her issues posed as a problem. Not only for her but another party as well; one she was visiting right this moment. If he did know something about her, something he shouldn't know, she could be worth a lot of credits.

"I think it’s time for a change. This rust bucket is getting to us.”

“I’ve been waiting for those words the moment we landed here.”

Móni laughed, “After the shockball match, we'll talk it over with Kyp and the old ma'am.”

Her ears rang and the air chilled her body, raising the hairs on her arms. She swung her head around and stared at an empty hall with a flickering light barely illuminating the area. The walls creaked from the vibrations of the machines keeping the space station alive. Above her, footsteps crossed from one end of the hall to the next followed by a door sliding open and close. Soft chatter amongst occupants drifted from the adjacent hall, then dispersed into the dark nothingness of the rotten corners of the Abolition. To the naked eye, nothing was unusual, but Durmónia’s were wide open; expecting to catch anything remotely out of place. Like dipping a hand in the middle of the ocean, she extended her consciousness through the Force, but immediately retracted.

“Your heart rate is high.”

“What?” She hadn’t realized how heavy her breaths were. “I sense something… sinister. Dark. Sith.”

“Vader?”

“No,” Móni confirmed. She cocked her head, “He conceals it very well. No one would notice him.”

“A male. What else can you see?”

“Uh…,” Móni stretched out again. “No. No. No more. I promised myself never to use it.”

“This could be serious.”

“He won’t be able to sense me. Come on.”

“Then ask it.”

Móni glanced back with rage at the very mention of it.

Unperturbed, Betts continued, “If you're going to stay, then by all means let yourself be found. I don't need you to live.”

Móni pondered this. Something was strange, “You think it has something to do with it?”

“I am uncertain.”

“Of course you are,” Droids can’t feel the Force, Moni thought to herself.

“After the shockball tournament, we’re definitely leaving,” Móni said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Chapter Text

In a remote area of a rundown canteen and populated with guests, the cloaked figure was hunched over a holo-booth. He was brief, specific, and hushed. “No, stay in the new coordinates. I’ll find myself a ship here. Have you tracked him, yet?”

A woman’s voice responded, “Yes. We've got him on the run.”

He sneered with hate entangled in every word, “Find the pyke scum and finish him. This was his last chance to gain my favor.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a press of a button, he ended the transmission. He sat there for a few moments before addressing a dug who had been looking his way since he entered the place.

“Do you need something, dug?”

In Huttese, the dug spoke with confidence as he stroked his leathery goatee with his foot, [I couldn’t help but hear of you needing a ship.]

“What of it?” The figure spoke from the shadow of his cowl without a hint of intrigue.

The dug, unperturbed from the brisk response, remained composed. He knew the game all too well, and how to reel in a potential customer who thought they were not in need of help.

[You’re stranded in an unfamiliar place without friends, connections, or—most importantly—a weapon. The Abolition doesn’t do well with newcomers. It can suck your money dry… or blood. Depends on how you want to play it.]

In the figure’s mind, he watched the dug squirm as it clawed at an invisible hand suffocating its last few breaths. Eyes bulging, blood veins popping out of the skin, and saliva dripping down the corners of its mouth—the final image of a simple creature with no cause, no relative importance to anyone in its life, nor something whose death would matter to anyone. Its life was at the mercy of another who had power beyond that of nearly the entire galaxy. If he willed it, the whole Abolition could fall to his feet and become another dry trophy of his underworld conquests. But the the station was an important hub for many races and his control would raise flags to the Empire, which was something he could not risk. As it was, the sacred code of anyone who knows of the Abolition did not actually know of it. When they leave their haven, any factual evidence of its existence would be wiped clean from their memories, else there wouldn’t be a home to return to.

When the dug felt his intense stare, he took it as a means of successfully latching onto a victim and continued, [Not far from here is an old friend who takes old ships and builds them new for a fair price. Unfortunately, nothing is new in these parts. I can introduce you, if you’re interested.]

Unfazed from the unabashed lie, the male could not help but extend a wide smirk that would have the dug slink back to whatever slime hole he came from. But the hood’s shadow masked the bloodlust permeating from his body.

“Lead the way.”

Mistaking the upbeat tone as one of wishful hope, the dug rubbed his feet together in a gesture of victory, [Follow me, then.]

-

Several levels down the space station were the Living Wards where most, if not all, beings dwell to sleep or escape the day’s hardships. Although life beat within the flushed steel walls, the ward exhumed nothing but damp desolation. The Abolition’s maintenance was probably the poorest in the galaxy; only one glowpanel after groups of five dead ones flickered a dim, pale glow over the littered street, and the poor ventilation kept the musty smell at a constant. Most of the odor wafted from alleys separating the apartments at every block where one could locate sentients creating homes on the wet floors, selling drugs, or loud sex. From the small, rectangular ports on the walls, meant to serve as windows, glowing eyes would often make an appearance to watch someone else’s life crumble. On a lucky day, one could catch a murder happening in their own alley.

Despite its crassness, for Durmónia it was home and soon she would be searching for a new one; whether it’s to another hell hole or living off the wilderness, she couldn’t say. One thing she could be certain of was the Sith’s presence did not settle well in her stomach. If he was there to obtain a scum sheltering in the Abolition, it meant the vessel no longer served as a haven for those under the scrutiny of the Empire’s eyes. There’s no telling if the Sith would call Imperial troops or Vader himself to ransack the place, discovering her in the process. Then there’s the question if the Sith did know of her existence. Someone had been poking around into her business, trying to dredge up her past, but whether it connected with the Empire or not was debatable. Her dubious past had been up for grabs for some time, but getting into her personal life was what struck the chord of suspicion. Kymeri was a small-time criminal who talked big, whoever the secondhand source was, was the real issue. She could only hope Zione would find the rat, so she could eradicate him promptly.

She sighed to herself in the empty hall of her apartment building. The lighting was no better inside, but it worked to shadow old stains on the walls and questionable fluids in the corners. Betts rolled to a stop beside her when Móni came in front of a number Aurebesh blinking on the door. She knocked.

A whirring machine grew louder as it came on approach, and the door slid open. Móni dropped her head to make eye contact with a hybrid boy no more than fifteen years in a motorized hoverchair. From his father’s side, the characteristics of a theelin were apparent from his lavender skin, white hair, and horns protruding from his temples. His blue eyes, though, were inexplicably human. As his toothy grin spread, so did his freckled complexion.

“Móni! Betts!”

“Hey, Kyp. How’s the old bat doing?”

“Oh, you know. Batty,” he chuckled. The upper half of his body made a stiff turn when he indicated to the old female theelin behind him. He moved his chair out of the way to allow Móni and Betts proceed inside.

The putrid scent of the outside seeped away once the door slid closed again with a beeping lock. The colorful plants that adorned the studio created breathable oxygen for its inhabitants and seemingly brought life to a metal dung heap of a station where one would assume could never exist. From the single bedroom/living area to the kitchen and bathroom, hanging gardens decorated every corner and wall with vines, blossoming flowers, and the occasional herb. The mastermind behind such a miracle went to the shriveled theelin on the futon sewing up a seamless patch on one of Kyp’s shirts.

Móni sat herself down beside her, “How are you, Granny Nyla?”

Nyla ceased her sewing to acknowledge Móni’s presence with a warming smile and a nod. She continued her activity in silence.

Móni turned to Kyp. “I brought you a present.”

“Really? You really shouldn’t have.” Despite his humbleness, his eyes were bright with intrigue.

From her backpack, she procured four cylinders wrapped in white labels and set them on Kyp’s lap. His right forearm came down in a limp sort of way to slightly turn one of the cool metal cylinders to get a better reading. As his eyes shifted from side to side their size grew bigger. “This is! This is the medicine! But how?”

Granny Nyla continued her sewing with the same tranquil face when Móni responded, “Scrapped up some money. Beat a wookiee or two,” she shrugged.

“Just one costs as much as the rent in this place. How did you afford four!?”

“Patience and resilience.”

Kyp snorted, “You sound like a Jedi. And you’re no Jedi.”

“You got that right,” Móni watched Betts come beside Nyla, who offered a piece of Kyp’s clothing. The droid took it within her round fingers and began sewing.

Kyp took in her downcast gaze. “What’s wrong?”

With a heavy sigh, she bared herself to him the bad news, “Remember when I told you we can’t stay in one place for too long?” She watched his questioning brows slant upward. “It’s come to that point.”

“When?”

“After the shockball tournament.”

Kyp’s mouth fell open, “That’s the day after tomorrow! Did you get into trouble again?”

Móni held her hands up in defense, “This time it wasn’t me. I swear. Someone’s asking around about me and it’s best we go before it escalates to something nasty.”

The pout couldn’t get much bigger on Kyp’s face.

“Don’t you want to finally get off this pile of junk?”

Kyp shrugged his bony shoulders, “But it was our pile of junk.”

Our. She closed her eyes to recollect the meaning of the word. It meant so much more to him than Móni could ever understand. And maybe she should have.

“Kyp,” Móni brought a nervous hand over the side of her face to formulate her next words. “Maybe this is a step in your life you need to let go.”

It was physically impossible for the half theelin to express himself through physical actions, but his expressive eyes, eyebrows, and mouth were more than capable to convey his feelings. Anger flashed for a moment but was overcome by grief.

A blinking red light on a wall planter switched Kyp’s attention. He mumbled an “oh” under his breath and hovered to it. On the arm of his hoverchair, he changed the screen’s settings to connect with the plants’ filtration systems throughout the whole studio. A trail of muttering self-directions poured from his mouth as his fingers swiped and pressed his personal console with expertise.

“Sometimes I feel Dad would come in any second now and apologize for keeping us waiting for so long.”

“I get it. Leaving here is like abandoning your dad for good and all the memories with it. But the memories won’t go away and I’m sure U’lis wouldn’t want you to stay here forever. Also, I promised him I would protect you and that’s what I’m doing.”

“Is that also why you won’t tell me how he died?”

“I told you,” Móni licked her lips and shifted her eyes elsewhere. “There was a gang-“

“A gang war and he got caught in the crossfire. But I think there’s more to it than that. You just don’t want to tell me.”

“Because there’s nothing more to tell, little man.”

“You also don’t like talking about how you and Dad were together.”

“I don't...,” there was nothing Móni could counter with against the truth. She withheld the sting of memories with Kyp's father, hiding it the way she always did in front of his son. "The past is the past. Leave it there." 

Kyp did not refrain his mordant expression, “Yes, we know. Your favorite quote. Betts, do you know who Móni’s parents were?”

“Only one of them was human,” Betts responded.

“Hey!”

“Oh? You’re half-human?” Kyp’s sorrow morphed into curiosity from the distraction.

“No. I’m human. I think.”

“You think?” Kyp couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Do you have a tail or lekku somewhere you don’t know about?”

“Shut up, kid. I don’t need your smart talk. And I’m serious. We need to go.”

“Is it really so bad someone is trying to look into your past? Weren’t you just a chef on Coruscant?”

“If only.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Granny Nyla, pack only the essentials. Maybe a plant or two, but that’s it. To be honest, the timing couldn’t be more perfect. If I win this tournament, the prize money will give us a good start somewhere.”

“If you win.”

“You don’t think I will?”

“Hard to tell these days. I feel the real game happens before the match when someone kills a teammate or rival or two. Does make things more interesting, though.”

“It’s annoying is what it is. Which reminds me, I need to go and check if I have dead teammates or not.” Móni kneeled in front of Kyp and placed her hands over his still ones. “I know the sudden change is a shock, but you have to trust me. It’s not safe here anymore.”

“Cross my legs for me, please,” he huffed.

Nyla made a gesture to help, but Móni put up a hand, “I got it.”

The old theelin resumed her sewing as Móni crossed the young boy’s feet to soothe his comfort. Kyp grunted a thanks and the young woman mumbled her welcome.

“Okay. But only because I can just barely tolerate you. And Dad always said he trusted you.”

Móni froze on his feet. A cold sweat broke over her forehead and her throat went dry.

“Betts. Let’s go,” she turned away to avoid his gaze. “I’ll see you after the tournament.”

When she and Betts turned a corner to another hallway of apartments, Móni put her back against the wall to catch her breaths.

“You’re going to have to tell that boy the truth sooner or later,” Betts said.

“How can I tell him something I don’t fully understand myself. There’s no point.”

“There’s no point in me being here and yet here we are.”

“When we’re clear of here, I’ll tell him. I’m gonna need to contact Zione for a ship.”

There was a long silence between them. Betts stared down at her master without the slightest movement of her metal joints.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just processing different scenarios of how the conversation would go down between you and Kyp… if it ever happens.”

“Are there any where it isn’t a total disaster?”

“Negative.”

“Because it’s me?”

“Because it’s you.”

“I can live with that.”

-

In an alley illuminated by a single, fluttering light overhead were bodies of different species mangled in strange positions on the ground. Among them was the dug who sought a victim in the newcomer. His tongue hung out and eyes permanently bulged out with fear—the only remnant of his final moments. Sitting in the shadows, was the hooded male holding a holo-device emitting full-body displays of the corpses’ clienteles aboard the Abolition. He scrolled through and stopped on an amani labeled Arsenal. A short description scrolled beside him—something about him being out of commission for several years and love for shockball. He threw the device away and left the alley’s sour scent.

Down a few blocks, he returned to the bustling bars and entertainment venues when he caught sight of something akin to his appearance from the corner of his eye. On a billboard displayed several holographic faces of gang leaders, criminals, and murderers; not to be captured, but to keep the residents wary. One display took after his very hooded look with a description beneath it:

           " Newcomer. Killed two crew members by unknown means. Last seen in Navin’s Canteen.”

He disregarded it and moved on to an announcement about a shockball tournament occurring the next day. His yellow eyes shined within his cowl.

In a concealed alley behind a bar, strange odors and smoke spewed from the ventilations, was a discarded robe hung from a rusted pipe. Beyond, a male with a crown of horns stepped into the crowd; exposed, but unknown.

-

The following day, Móni waited in front of the restaurant without a name—a place she worked in for the entirety of her time in the Abolition. Betts was powered off since she didn’t care for waiting and would only complain. On the locked entrance was a sign displayed since the evening before: “Closed for the shockball tournament”.

Finally, the ithorian stepped into the empty street and made his way to Móni. Tureis blew from the air holes along his neck and crossed his arms.

“The ingredients and prep were sent to the restaurant’s computers. I’m just here to make a formal resignation.”

As much Tureis would love to have room in his heart to dislike Móni, he didn’t. She was a better cook, had the charm to reel customers in, and a sense of humor to make the most criminal of criminals’ heads turn with laughter. But he knew the day would come. She made it a point to be honest with him that she was never going to remain aboard the Abolition for long. He needed a line cook with experience badly at the time, so he didn’t care about the repercussions. A steady stream of air exhaled from his neck all at once—an ithorian’s way of sighing.

“You’re upset? Think about me. You finally gave me an opportunity to control the menu and now I’m just throwing it away.”

His bulky brows raised when he shrugged his shoulders. A few, non-comital notes blew out afterward.

“You’re right. Totally my loss,” she grinned. She turned Betts on who scanned her surroundings momentarily before following Móni to the ithorian. She patted Tureis’ shoulder and stalked off. “Thanks for everything.”

The ithorian jutted a finger toward her back and blew a hearty note.

“Of course, we’re going to win. They got me!” she shouted back.

On the highest level of the Abolition, beneath a dome of nebulae clouds and stars, was the shockball court, a black rectangle outlined with neon lights color-coded by their functions: red for out of bounds, purple for the neutral zone in the center, and one white strip that divided the court. Silence permeated the looming stands when Móni sat down in one of the seats to overlook the court. Some teams gravitated to their respective spaces on the court, practicing with a shockball or talking over strategy, she assumed.

A green foot rose over the seat beside Móni, then another one. Zione slunk into the chair with a grimace of awkwardness where his tail was concerned. He managed to fit it through the broken hole at the base of the backrest. Comfortable, he folded his elongated arms across his chest and slid a hard stare to the woman with wild curls.

“I spoke with Tureis.”

Pretending not to be fazed by his scrutiny, Móni raised her brows with innocence, “Yeah?”

He elongated the silence in hopes to make the human squirm, but as always, she was cool under the pressure.

“Those are some difficult recipes. Tureis was on the verge of weeping with horror and gratitude.”

“Knew the old guy was a big softy. Imagine if I was there. He would be crying because I saw him cry,” Móni laughed. It died on her lips when she placed an arm on the backrest to fully face the amani. Her smile faltered into a firm line. “I got your message.”

“Móni,” Zione spoke carefully. “Kymeri was being paid to delve into your past; specifically, on the gang you were a part of two years ago: The Guiltless.”

Móni’s face solidified into something dark, but it was gone as soon as it came. The reaction made sweat perspire on Zione’s forehead and his hands gripped his knees tight. He had never seen her features contort that way, or any human.

He forced himself to continue, “But that’s not the strangest part. I think, and I could be wrong, there is a connection to the Empire with this mysterious client.”

“Are you ever wrong, Zione?”

“No… but I could be on this point. It could just be the client has worked with the Empire in the past, or is a small-time Imperial official or soldier. I can’t be certain.”

“If the Empire is involved in the slightest way I can’t take any risks, especially when I have Kyp to take care of.”

“But what does this have to do with your past?” Right when the words left his thin lips, he was struck with a notion. “Kyp’s father was part of the gang too. Does this have to do with that raid? The one his father died in?”

Móni’s eyes flicked to Zione. The orange sparkled with sharpness and all the amani could do was hold his breath.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” she said in a murmur.

The amani flicked his tongue across his snout with careful consideration. “You were there weren’t you? When it happened.”

“You can’t tell Kyp. Not yet,” The skin of her hands turned white from how tight she clenched them together. “Something,” she licked her lips. “Something I cannot explain happened, and I don’t know how to tell him. But I’m going to try after we get off this scrap heap and settle in someplace nicer, hopefully.”

Zione cocked his wide head to the side, “Any place is nicer than here.”

“Even an Imperial jail cell. Heard they’re actually pretty clean.”

“I’ve heard the same. Maybe you should rethink it and let yourself get captured.”

“I’ll think about it,” Móni smirked.

“Actually, how did you plan on getting out of here?”

“Well, about that… If I only knew someone who was an arms dealer and knows every secret about this place and everyone who inhabits it.”

“If only,” Zione sighed. “Looks like you’re stuck here then.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Only if you have room for one more on your little journey. Mainly to make sure you won’t break our new deal for that cuisine you promised me.”

The guilt and anxiety melted off her body and replaced with unbridled joy, “If you provide your magic black market food, I’ll cook all the cuisines you want. On second thought, no. Kyp is a picky eater.”

“Then we are at an impasse here.”

Móni punched his shoulder and laughed, “You can suck it up. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go and see who’s gonna be on my team.”

Zione’s jaw went slack, “You don’t know who’s on your team? Don’t they give you a roster almost a cycle in advance?”

Móni raised her eyebrows at the same time her shoulders shrugged, “I’m playing with criminals. And the roster changes throughout the cycle. Either because someone dies, gets thrown into prison, in another system, disqualified, and so on and so on,” she waved her hand lazily. “You know shockball here is nothing like the professional sport in the Core Worlds. It’s what makes it fun, honestly.” She sighed, “I’m going to miss it.”

“I’ve bet wupiupi and Imperial credits on your team. Don’t let me down, human.”

Móni swung over the railings and landed on the court from a high distance.

Zione slunk back into the chair with mild trepidation. He may have bet a little too much on Móni.

-

In the shadows of the highest part of the stands, where the seats meet the glass dome, wide yellow eyes took in their prey many rows below. A metal limb rested on its counterpart as the male eased into a relaxed position. Now he waited: for the crowd to consume all exit routes, for the matches to begin to serve as a distraction, and for the environment of familiarity to settle around the amani. Patience was a key element he learned on his own over the course of these past few years. Results were achieved with patience; the Empire’s ascension was proof of that, and that required years of development. Since before he had been taken under Palpatine’s apprenticeship the great Empire was always in the works, and all he needed was to wait a few hours.

He drew a deep breath, taking in an imaginary scent of burnt flesh.

Yes. He could wait.

Chapter Text

Betts surveyed the team in the locker room that was in a less than viable state. Most locker doors had been disassembled or completely removed. Empty drink containers and shockball equipment littered the rusted floor, hardly leaving any walking room without giving a ripped glove a good kick. There were functioning showers once upon a time, but had turned into stalls players have used to spend the night in. In her mechanical retinas, the droid considered the squadmates to be less than passable for a bunch of thugs, but Móni was the one to make the call. Before her was a female balosar, nautolan, and zabrak. Then there was a male twi’lek, iktotchi, trandoshan, and human.

“You all look like you’ve seen better suns." Móni crunched on shards of transparisteel.

The balosar’s antennaepalps twitched on top of her skull and regarded Móni with feigned interest.

“Yes, Shysha?”

Shysha whipped back her blue ponytail. “I need this money.”

“Don’t we all?” The twi’lek regarded her with some amusement.

“Jien,” the iktotchi placed a hand on the twi’lek’s orange shoulder, “didn’t you know? She’s trying to find her place in the galaxy.” He held back a laugh as he spoke but let it out when he finished his sentence.

Shysha, however, was not amused. “Quiet! You overgrown bantha.”

“What did you call me?”

“Come on, Qar-Tan." Móni stepped between the two of them. “Play nice. Or did you forget how a team works?”

The balosar returned to the crooked bench with an unsatisfied scowl on her face when Qar-Tan held his smirk on her. Móni regarded the three of them with familiarity since they had been the few recurring members on her ever-changing team. Despite their animosity, when they set foot on the court they left behind their differences in the locker room and focused on the goal they all shared: the prize money.

“When has Qar-Tan ever been a team player?” Jien scoffed.

“Since I took that hit from a 100mA ball for you." The player in question shoved a pointer finger into the twi’lek’s cheek. Jien took his wrist and bent it backwards. “I give! I give!” Content with the iktotchi’s pain, Jien released his hold. Qar-Tan eyed his teammate with a pointed glare as he soothed his wrist.

Móni raised her hands meant to appease the rising tension in the air. “Alright, reunion over. My name’s Durmónia,” she addressed the newcomers. “I’m a captain and my position is invader.”

The nautolan’s bulbous black eyes turned to Móni. In her tentacle hair were silver bangles and one silver cap covering the stub of half a tentacle. A childish grin stretched across her green face. “I’m Naiya! And I play alcove."”

“Yes,” Shysha drawled with mild interest. “I know you. You were on that dug’s team. Why are you here?”

“He was killed yesterday,” Naiya’s smile didn’t falter as she spoke. “I’m just so excited to have the opportunity to play alongside one of the best alcoves in the galaxy! And you recognize me. I am so flattered.” She pushed into Shysha’s space—her eyes gleamed with awe. The balosar was neither fazed with embarrassment nor pride, only annoyance crossed her stoic features.

“Do your job and we’ll be fine.”

Naiya clapped softly and quickly to herself, oozing with pent up enthusiasm. “This is going to be great.”

On the far corner of the bench, hunched in an almost recluse position, was the two meter-tall trandoshan. He rubbed his green scaled arm with a trembling hand and his tail twitched every so often. Although his red eyes could scare the life out of a small child, behind them Móni caught a flitter of meekness. His hissing voice rang quiet throughout the room. “Targon. Marksman.”

Qar-Tan snorted a laugh, “You’re the most docile trandoshan I’ve ever met.”

“This is your first tournament, right?” Jien patted his shoulder. “I’ve seen you play some on the streets. As a marksman myself, I can say you’re very good.”

Targon only nodded his head, but they physically watched the weight lift off his sagging shoulders.

“Before you crack another stupid comment to waste time,” Móni shut Qar-Tan’s mouth with a snap, “let’s finish the rounds.” She nodded to the zabrak who was sprawled over an entire bench taking, what looked like, a nap.

As if she could feel Móni’s stare, she spoke without opening her eyes. “Name’s Pyrene and I play invader.” She absently scratched the top of her bald head full of short horns.

“Oh, good,” Móni piped with a grin. “Another invader. Not like last cycle where it was just the two of us.”

“It’s a wonder we made it to the final rounds,” Qar-Tan sighed, repressing memories of their loss.

“And finally,” Móni turned to where a silhouette of a man was leaning against the wall leading to the exit. Even from where she was, the stench of alcohol and smoke was potent. “The dark and brooding human.”

“You can call me Volsh.” He stepped forward; an older man in his late 40’s with a stubbled shadow of a salt-and-pepper beard. Despite the stench, he did not talk or carried himself as a drunk. “And I’m an invader as well.”

Móni ignored her intuition setting off alarms as it was overcome by something far more important. “Four invaders!” She set her fists on her hips and extended a toothy grin. “This is gonna be cake.”

As she made her way to the exit, Betts handed her insulated gloves. The fabric compressed snugly around and between her fingers to make the perfect fit for her hands and her hands alone; as expected from Kyp who designed every thread, padding, and cybernetics from scratch. Putting them on triggered a shot of adrenaline coursing through her veins and the grin turned into a satisfied smirk.

“Let’s go, team.”

-

Zione remained where he was when Móni left him. He enjoyed watching the pre-game warmups to get a sense of the teams’ abilities—mainly to compare them with Móni’s. Last cycle he cringed from the poor management, for Móni’s team wasn’t the only one who suffered Emperor Palpatine’s crackdown on the Outer Rims. The newly allotted Stormtroopers had taken siege of weapon and armour depots, storages filled with unlicensed medicine and drugs, hidden outposts on planets selling parts from the Clone Wars—everything was going down a black hole with no way of escape. The amani eyed the female Hutt perched in an open balcony on the opposite side of the court and across from where he was, soaking in her profit below. As the director of the Abolition’s shockball tournament, she oversaw the players’ assignment to teams via an algorithm she invented to match them based on skills, positions, age, and race. She was also in charge of the prize money and wagers, of course. The Hutt also felt the repercussions of Palpatine’s lashes, for the sudden death of bulks of players put a stint to the crowd’s gambles, and teams were mismatched horribly. He could see things have returned to some normalcy on some level in the current cycle, but for how long he wondered.

At a steady rate, the stands begun to fill with bodies and noise as the start of the first match was on approach. On the court, Zione caught the movement of bunched up curls and an arm swiftly leaping to catch a shockball in midflight. He assessed the team forming around Móni as her lips moved with a tinge of amusement curved at their corners. She seemed confident with her team, even if they had only known each other for a whole forty-five minutes. The amani could only hope they were worth his credits.

Around him, the seats filled and the court cleared. The lights over the audience dimmed so the colorful array of lines on the black court were the most luminous element within the stadium and induced an outbreak of roaring cheers from the shockball fans. Where the Hutt was located, a massive screen displayed above her balcony listed images and names of the teams’ captains and their players. Then flying in on a repulsorpod and illuminated by a singular spotlight was a mon calamari with his arms outstretched to the audience.

“Welcome to the Abolition’s 15^th shockball tournament!” his voice echoed across the stadium, insinuating another boom of cheers from the crowd. Zione slid a sideways glance to the figure beside him who neither clapped, nor howled, nor moved an inch since the lights dimmed. His arms were crossed over his slightly exposed chest which was red with black markings. When his narrow eyes moved up to the face, he processed the features in the span of one second: a male zabrak with the same red and black designs over his face and hairless head, and bright yellow eyes that were examining him in return.

Zione reverted his focus to the screen which was randomizing the selection for the first two contestants. The mon calamari talked some bravado to rile the stands, but the amani blocked out the noise as his mind raced with theories on the death-gripping glare the zabrak gave him.

He knows who I am, he thought, and he wants something.

His shoulders sagged from wear and a tinge of annoyance blew out from his nostrils. He seriously thought the Abolition received the memo of his retirement; even when few discovered his identity and came to him for advice it was through comm channels—never in person—out of some respect. This “meet up” must be due to desperation and time. Not that he cared. But the pure aura of vexation mixed with hatred seeped from the zabrak’s pores, and those were usually a bad combination that led to anger then potential violence. And Zione was not a violent individual. For the moment, he opted to ignore and wait, because he’d rather enjoy the tournament for as long the zabrak would allow, and there was a low probability for violence given the massive amount of witnesses… he hoped.

Displayed on the holoscreen were the first two contestants: the first team’s captain was a female togruta with a horrible scowl and the second was Móni with her usual grin.

“What a treat! The most fearsome females in the galaxy face off to open the tournament!” The mon calamari boomed. “We all know Yesinda to be relentless, gruesome even. Remember her breaking the wings of that toydarian captain?” The stadium roared with laughter at the relishing memory. “And the agile Móni with endless stamina. We all remember the time she held an entire match by herself against a full team and won!” Another roar from the crowd ensued. Zione clapped with enthusiasm, and, of course, the zabrak hadn’t moved a finger to show any interest.

Lights illuminated the team’s entrance when they stepped onto the court. On the holoscreen it played in real-time Yesinda, the togruta, leading her team. She did not wave or smile at the crowd’s chants like her team did. Her focus was only on the opponent who gave a lopsided grin.

-

Móni approached the white center line, or the neutral zone when in play. Along the opposite side, Yesinda’s team lined up with her in the center; face to face with the human female.

“Wipe that disgusting smirk off your face!” She spat. The orange tint of her skin turned a darker shade along her neck.

“Is it distracting?” Móni asked with as much genuine interest she could muster. On her right, Naiya muffled her giggle.

“It’s annoying.”

This only widened the smirk causing a growl to rumble from the torguta’s throat, “Careful now. Wouldn’t want that temper of yours to short circuit. Again.”

Yesinda’s spine curled like a feline as if prepared to lunge for an attack.

The mon calamari descended to the court and hovered at the far end of the lineup where Qar-Tan was opposite of a male besalisk who had a stale stench given how the iktotchi wrinkled his nose with a grimace.

“Settle down you miscreants or did you forget the rules already? No physical contact before or during the matches unless you want to be shocked to unconsciousness.” When the torgruta’s offensive stance eased, he continued. “Out of bounds you get shocked. Passing the neutral zone to the opponent’s side here, shocked. Throwing a shockball while in the neutral zone, shocked. Striking a referee, shocked. Any questions?”

Móni raised a hand, which caused the mon calamari to roll his buggy brown eyes on impulse. “This better be a serious question or I’ll have you shocked right then and there.”

She lowered her hand with a disappointed pout.

The stands shook with stomps and cheers from impatience, and the mon calamari continued. “We’ll skip the handshake since last time one of you scoundrels sabotaged someone’s gloves. Get to your positions. Wait for the Hutt’s signal or else--”

“We’ll get shocked. Great. Break!” Móni clapped then turned her back to the seething mon calamari. Flying into the stadium were two referees on beaten and blackened repulsorpods. They circled around the teams watching for anything amiss before the match start.

“The besalisk is going to be a problem,” Qar-Tan grumbled. “He’s huge! And has four arms. That’s like two players in one.”

Jien hummed his interest, “An invader no less.”

Shysha came up beside Móni and spoke in her neutral tone, “They only have one substitute.”

“Yesinda is someone who doesn’t care about risks,” Móni spoke to the circle the team formed on the opposite end of the court. “She probably won’t have a third invader, which means two substitutes like us.”

“This is going to be a tough match,” Pyrene yawned. “I’ve seen this besalisk at play before. He’s agile and jumps like a monkey-lizard. Kind of annoying, really.” She stumbled forward from a hard pat against her back.

“Guess who’s going to be in our startup?” Móni grinned. “Qar-Tan. Shysha. Naiya. Targon. Get in position. Jien, as usual, give me signs for anything suspicious.” Jien nodded and went his way with Volsh to the queue box outside the court’s sideline.

“One minute!” A referee shouted from overhead. Both teams lined up behind their respective attack line—three meters from the neutral zone. Móni assessed the other team: a nikto, chagrian, weequay, two humans (as Móni expected were queued), and the besalisk. Yesinda too took in her opponents, but with a piercing glare raking over their gloves, uniforms, and feet; finding anything out of place that could sabotage the game. Móni knew the togruta had something up her sleeves, but found the search moot, reveling a surprise challenge.

“Targon. Qar-Tan. Fall back to your positions at the Rush,” Móni commanded. The two nodded without comment.

For the final seconds, every team member looked up at the female Hutt who appeared impervious to the audience’s energy, and uninterested in the male and females below her. When she raised a ridiculously small arm in proportion to her large, sluggish body, every eye stared in anticipation at the center line. No one watched but felt that thin arm fall on command for the match start. When eight ports of three different sizes opened along the center line, the tensed muscles and short breaths pulsed the court to life. Senses turned acute and gloved hands twitched with impatience. No one noticed, but even the stadium had gone silent. When the balls shot up and the teams sprinted toward them, noise reverberated throughout the court so loud, Móni felt the tremors beneath her feet and could barely hear her own short puffs of breaths.

Móni led the charge as the fastest among her team but heard the soft giggles of Naiya close behind. Yesinda led her own charge; her deep scowl of disgust almost made Móni want to laugh, but she held it in for the sake of not having the togruta turn violent at the start of the match. She set her sunset eyes on the largest shockballs hovering in place on opposite ends. She pushed her legs further and darted to the left. Her hand reached the first shockball and a soft jolt of vibrations coursed through her arm, but the gloves muffled the worst of the ball’s shock.

“Qar-Tan!” She threw it back without looking for his location.

“Móni made first contact!” The mon calamari narrated. “And she made an effortless pass of the 100mA ball to Qar-Tan.”

Yesinda’s eye twitched and lunged for the other 100mA ball. Móni backflipped then somersaulted in the air right at the ball’s spot. Both their hands grasped onto it and the battle turned into a dominance of strength. “One of us should let go else the refs will shock us both,” Móni smirked.

“The only one letting go here is you!”

“Leave it to Móni to make a circus out of the sport. It’s these tricks that made her one of the highest bidders in the tournament.”

A small shockball struck Yesinda’s arm and she pulled back with a grunt of pain from the shock. Her icy eyes contained malice when they flickered to her attacker, but she contorted her emotions to submission and settled for the mid-sized ball.

“Nice one, Naiya!” Móni called when she tossed her ball back to Targon over her shoulder. “Get to position.”

From behind the attack line, Naiya responded with a mock salute and ran backward keeping tabs on the other team. Shysha ran back too with a small ball in hand and Pyrene with none.

“The besalisk got you beat already?” Móni hopped backward behind the attack line.

The zabrak stretched her arm across her chest, “Nearly took my arm with him.”

“Not to worry. We got the big guns to take the beast down.”

Everyone got into position the moment they retreated behind the attack line. Shysha took the right back corner and Naiya the back left. They were a few steps above Targon who was placed in the center back. Qar-Tan was in the center, covering Targon, and Pyrene and Móni at the attack line. The opponent before them did the same, however they had no one in the center to block their nikto markswoman.

“Yesinda bet a lot of credits on the big guy to carry the team,” Móni grinned. “It’s gonna hurt her,” she flashed five fingers behind her back: the enemy had five shockballs.

Yesinda did not waste a moment to quench her revenge and beamed a medium ball at Naiya. The nautolan exceeded Móni’s expectation to dodge and caught it with both her hands. She winced with pain but held onto the ball.

“Amazing reflexes from Naiya! She barely had time to notice the 30mA ball, which Yesinda perfectly directed at her face.”

“It’s up by a few volts,” she said grinding her teeth together.

“A few?” Qar-Tan gaped. “You’re holding at least 120mA if you’re hurting.”

“Of course, she rigged the balls… Shysha,” Móni called. Without turning her gaze away from her opponents, she caught the small, 11mA ball that landed in the palm of her hand.

The markswoman shot a 30mA with an extremely accurate and high strung arm. Móni bent back and felt the ball’s speed rush over her face. Behind her, Qar-Tan called Pyrene and made a quick pass of the 100mA ball to her. He grunted when he captured the ball, its voltage also raised.

Yesinda was a clever cheat, but she wasn’t clever enough to create something on her own to change a shockball’s voltage. There was someone on her team who could rig them with just a touch, and she suspected it happened during the Rush. Her eyes fluttered to the queue box where Jien made subtle hand signs beneath his crossed arms; three fingers for alcove, then one finger for left corner. From the attack line, she jumped high in the air, her arm swung back prepared to spear the ball right at the chagrian alcove.

“Oret!” Yesinda called the besalisk with a subtle raise of panic mixed with rage. The besalisk winded up a massive arm aimed at Móni. Some quick exchange occurred behind the airborne human, and when Oret shot a perfect line at her, another 30mA ball intercepted it before it hit its target. From the collision, one ball flew out of bounds, and another landed right at the edge of the neutral zone on Yesinda’s side. Móni darted the ball at the alcove’s hand who raised it with the intent of catching it, but the force of the ball’s speed bent the chargrian’s fingers back with a crack.

A howl of pain filled the court along with an immense roar of pleasure from the audience, but no one stopped to take note of the being’s pain or the court shocking him. He fell to the floor from the abuse his body took and held up a fist in the air.

Yesinda whirled at him and screamed, “Put your fist back down. You got what you deserved for thinking you could catch it.”

The chargrian lowered his arm with reluctance and a threatening glare that could have outmatched his captain’s, but Yesinda ignored him. She stepped above the attack line to go for the solitary 30mA ball, but Qar-Tan threatened her with a raised arm and kept her at bay.

“Móni rendered their alcove to near uselessness with a brutal tactic! And because he intended to catch the shockball, but couldn’t he’d been shocked by 15mA volts.”

Pyrene took advantage of the besalisk’s stunned gaze and connected her shockball to his right shoulder, the shock stunning him to his knees.

Móni landed right before the center line and rolled out of another throw from the markswoman. Shysha scooped the 11mA with a grunt of pain then saw quick movement, “Look out!”

The besalisk threw the 100mA ball that had previously struck his shoulder at Móni. She caught it with a grunt of effort, doing her best not to let it touch her body. The force of the throw skidded her back several inches and when she looked above the ball’s worn top, Yesinda’s eyes gleamed with victory when she aimed her 11mA ball at Móni.

Pyrene ran between Móni and caught the ball with a yelp of pain. She dropped it and the court shocked her into unconsciousness.

“Oh! Looks like Pyrene’s arms gave out and had to drop the ball. She couldn’t handle the court’s shock either. Yesinda got the first Comatose player of the match!”

The referee’s repulsorpod extended an arm with three pincers to lift Pyrene off the court, and Volsh immediately took her place. At the time, the chargrian raised his good fist and responded to Yesinda’s murderous look with a scowl. The referee flew over to him and waved a lazy consent.

“One of Yesinda’s alcoves forfeits making the match tied! I don’t blame him. He’s taken quite a beating. And replacing him is one of the humans. No? Both humans are on the court! Seems Yesinda wants to get this match over with.”

Qar-Tan came up to the attack line and performed an underhand pitch at the other alcove’s feet. The weequay crouched to let it bounce off the palm of his hand and caught it. Qar-Tan clicked his tongue in irritation, “That one’s skilled.”

Without a beat of hesitation when Pyrene was lifted, Móni jumped back behind the attack line. “Targon! At the same time!” Without a hitch, Naiya passed Targon the 100mA ball he exchanged with her earlier for the 30mA and aimed at the besalisk. After his precise shot to the besalisk’s face, Móni held back a few seconds to raise confusion and aimed for the feet. But with his upper right arm and lower left one, he caught both seamlessly. But Móni did not waste a second after her first throw.

She rolled under a 30mA the weequay threw her way and seized the 11mA ball Pyrene dropped. She could barely raise herself off the floor from the unexpected high voltage coursing through her arms. It was nearly 200mA and the whole of Yesinda’s team must have had gloves to handle such high voltages. Móni grounded her teeth together and forced her legs back behind the attack line. She knew the referees had caught on to the rigged match, but they did nothing about it—they never did. Their dented repulsorpods were damaged for reasons of interference, and not from the teams; the group they feared to anger was the audience who gambled for unfair matches.

“Shysha!” Móni grunted. “After me.” With gritted teeth and strained muscles, Móni forced the ball’s pressure away from her hand and aimed for the besalisk.

The moment Móni’s last fingertip rolled off the ball, Yesinda sprinted to the stagnant 30mA on the neutral zone. Shysha watched the torguta sweep the ball, but as if her brain couldn’t calculate a last-minute decision, her arm’s point of interest continued to direct toward the massive brute.

A quick glance to the sidelines, Móni saw the 30mA that went out of bounds had disappeared and a port opened on the neutral line. “Volsh! When I say go!”

From within the neutral zone, Yesinda had her back turned to pass the ball, and did not notice the 30mA ball shoot up from its port and Móni taking it. With the besalisk’s arms full of shockballs he prepped two arms to strike the second Móni stepped out of the neutral zone.

“Now!” With expectation and trust she turned her gaze away from Volsh to beam a pass at Targon. The moment his clawed fingers grasped the ball, his arm glided to the side and with the flick of his wrist shot at the over-encumbered besalisk. But Oret rolled out of the Targan’s precise shot and raised his arms for the kill.

Something was wrong. Móni sensed it; traced down her spine to the soles of her feet, something was amiss. No one was moving. All eyes were at a singular point on the court and the crowd no longer chanted their names but rose in a flurry of murmurs. Behind her, Yesinda gave a throaty chuckle filled with insult and mockery.

Why didn’t she listen to her instincts? They were never wrong.

Because my instincts are a curse. A gift from it. So, she refused to listen. To rebel against the greatest power in the galaxy; universe even.

Volsh’s impassive face twisted to one of wicked delight. His black teeth showed, and the once impassive gray eyes gleamed with victory. When she looked straight at the man, she sensed familiarity from long ago, and whatever it was he was a minor role in it—a fly on the wall. His arm was slung back and aimed right at his captain. Mounted on the shockball was a blinking red light.

“The Third Brother sends his regards,” he spoke in a whisper, meant for her alone.

When the ball came towards her at inhuman speed, she heard Qar-Tan’s, Jien’s, and Shysha’s fast footsteps and their labored breaths. Panic clung to Móni. The fear of another’s life over her own, and how she had no control over the events to transpire then and many more afterward. All because her fate was tied down and linked to those close to her. She hated it. She hated to feel panic, to feel rage, to feel nothing. Untrained emotions whirled within her as they battled against each other. What was the right thing to feel? She considered not feeling and being numb, but it didn’t feel right; it never felt right not to feel. Then she turned to rage, but it was a tiring emotion that made her annoyed at herself--hating things she knew she didn’t hate or deserved. Her breaths grew deep. Whispers of many voices and languages combined into one echoed in her skull, commanding her to focus. Stay calm. The pressure of many was immense and forced a crack in her resolve to never use it again.

She gathered the Force within her core and felt its power flow throughout her body. The sensation was limitless and powerful. She could feel the emotions of everyone in the stadium, heard their whispered thoughts, and the Sith sitting amongst them. A surge of another Force wielder came across her, but she did not have time to focus on it or of the hoard of marching feet inside the Abolition.

A loud and breathless voice in the crowd confirmed their presence.

“The Empire! They found us!”

Fear rose in waves around Móni and she lost herself within the sea of hopelessness. Only one thought beat within her: save them.

All at once, she Force pushed everyone, including Yesinda’s team, away from the bomb’s vicinity and sent the shockball back at Volsh. Before Móni realized what she’d done, before the man could respond with a shocked reaction, his body was blown to pieces.

“No!” Anguish clenched her guts from the pieces of flesh and torn limbs decorating the court and dyed with sticky, crimson liquid. But there was no time to succumb to self-loathing and consider what she could have done. Faceless soldiers in snow white armour marched into the stadium with their blaster rifles raised.

“You’re all under arrest for crimes against the Empire!”

-

Seven Minutes Earlier

The Force wielder in the stands felt the amani’s calmness… and ignorance after the brevity of their contact. His presence was ignored by Arsenal’s fixed focus on the human female who spoke with him earlier. He’s skilled at maintaining his emotions, the zabrak noted, and most likely accustomed to threats, but he never faced true fear; not from a Sith.

He spoke under his breath, aware of the race’s acute sense of hearing and sight. “I understand you’re the one to talk to for functional items.”

Aresenal only blinked, feigning his singular focus. This was not an issue. He knew he was listening. “Are you close with the one they call Durmónia? She’s very skilled.” And she was. Her flexibility and reflexes were above average for a human. Almost as if she saw things before they came. He did not have time to speculate, nor follow wherever his suspicions led. He needed a ship and fast. A small wave of vibrations in the air put his senses on alert that someone was fast on approach. He bared his teeth into a snarl when he recognized the mass coming towards them. This action seemed to put the amani on edge from the way his tail stiffened.

“Judging from your look, you care deeply for this human.”

“She’s the last person you want to get involved with,” Arsenal murmured through a clenched jaw.

The zabrak composed his twitching lips, but his eyes did not betray how he trapped his prey in his snare. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“I don’t know." This time the amani faced the zabrak and was unfazed by the violence lurking beneath the yellow eyes, as if he had faced many like them before. “Some say she’s a Jedi.”

Another twitch of the lips, but this time was to refrain from displaying his disgust. Is she who they’re coming for? That would mean his escape would be much easier than he anticipated if their attentions were on her. It also relieved the prickling qualms down his spine.

“Really? Have Jedi fallen so low that they play games for money? And for themselves no less.” At this, the amani narrowed its eyes. He touched a nerve. “Or the money is meant for someone else. Someone important?”

“Careful, Nightbrother. I don’t care if you dig into my bloody past, but don’t go into someone else’s. I’m the one you’re trying to make a deal with, not her.”

The stands roared with applause and drowned out Arsenal’s desperate chokes from an invisible grasp on his long neck. There was a hot flash of bright yellow anger the moment ‘Nightbrother’ was uttered, and the red rims around them burned deeper and spread further across the whites of his eyes.

He bared his clenched teeth when he spoke, “Know who you’re speaking to, merchant,” he spat. “I lead the Crimson Veil and if you value your or the woman’s life, then I suggest you relent to give me what I want. Tell me where you keep your ships, and then I may consider letting you live.”

Though life was trapped in his lungs, the amani did not quake with fear and it deepened the zabrak’s rage, tightening his grip; uncaring whether the creature before him lived or died. It was only when a voice sucked the boisterous clamor from the crowd did his prey tremble.

“The Empire! They found us!”

Panic rose in waves, especially in the center where there was a turbulent wind of emotions. He loosened his grip from the amani, struck with wonder from a concentrated mass of the Force on the court. It was unlike anything he ever felt before as if the Force was no longer an impalpable body, but tangible. He could feel it there: beating, pulsing, breathing. The crowd stood up around him, blocking his view of the court when a burst of incredible strength shook the very air around him. He blinked, in a daze from its intensity and considered if it came from the supposed female Jedi.

Marching into the stadium were his old master’s battalion of white soldiers reflecting their allegiance to the Galactic Empire. Their shouts reeled him back to the amani who struggled to escape through the flood of bodies. He extended his hand and Force pulled Arsenal’s thick neck to his stone grip.

“If you tell me where your ships are, then I will spare your friend’s location to the Empire, unless you wish for her to die under the Emperor’s chief enforcer.”

Then he found what he sought in those tiny eyes: fear.

Chapter Text

“Durmónia.”

I know that voice. From long ago. A distant memory of a life forgotten. A life taken from me.

It was soft. Filled with love. Nurturing. An image of a woman with curls as black as space. Her eyes sparkled like the stars. Her dark skin was soft when she wrapped her protective arms around a small child. Her painted lips tracked the round face with kisses. Her scent was floral like the bright red Devaron flowers that adorned her hair. Her breasts carried the strong beats of her heart and where the child would rest her head to listen.

“Durmónia.”

The song to lull the child to sleep became stern. There was an edge of fear masked by the woman’s façade of determination.

“Durmónia!”

Her scream echoed across a landscape of ashes and gray skies. The dark skin was bruised and scratched. Blood and soot mixed with sweat, and her curls lost their spring.

Her bleeding lips moved, but Móni forgot what was said. She couldn’t recall if it was something important, only they were meant to push her away. It was then, they both knew, they would never feel each other’s love again.

“Mother.” The foreign word stumbled out of her mouth in a murmur. And it wasn’t her mother calling her name, but Naiya. Her large black eyes filled her vision when green hands shook her body back to the chaos. Red bolts crisscrossed across the stadium from Stormtroopers and the rabble who fought back.

“Durmónia, snap out of it!” The nautolan fretted over her captain’s well-being. When Móni’s gaze locked on Naiya and not through her, she released her tense grip. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting the heck outta here.”

Móni’s body shook from the reverie and allowed the circumstances to ease away the guilt wanting to ebb its way into her emotions. She blinked at Naiya who did not seem affected by Volsh’s unnecessary end and found a bigger concern with the white soldiers.

Naiya chuckled and inclined her head to the empty balcony above, “Looks like the Hutt booked it to secure her money.”

From both sides of the court were groans as the players pushed themselves off the floor and rubbed the back of their heads from being smacked back against the wall. “Let’s get the team and follow the Hutt. We’re going to get that prize money.”

A wide grin showed pearl white teeth across Naiya’s green complexion. “And beat Yesinda to the punch.”

The togruta was the first on her feet and pointing to the Hutt’s balcony while kicking her team into attention. Móni scoffed, “Sure. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Now that we have a Jedi on our side.”

Móni whirled at her teammate with ferocity bright in her eyes. “I am not a Jedi,” she spat.

Taken aback by the unexpected reaction, the light smile faded into a firm line as Naiya's breaths turned short towards her captain. She took a step back when memories flooded her judgment of old tales her grandmother used to share when she was a child. Móni’s orange eyes weren’t far off from how her grandma would describe the powerful Force users who struck down their enemies with an element meant only for the skies to wield. Not even the Jedi had the ability to use the Force in such a way.

A bolt charred the space between the glaring females. “All of you stay right where you are!” Commanded a Stormtrooper on the lowest stand with his blaster rifle pointed at Naiya. Not a moment later, the court was surrounded by his counterparts, enclosing the shockball players without any means for them to escape. “Hands up where we can see them!” He threw another command, which everyone responded to slowly.

Yesinda didn’t seem too worried by the enclosure. Her eyes assessed her opponent’s numbers and locations, then fell on the weequay who returned the gesture.

Qar-Tan, not pleased by their predicament, hissed at Móni from behind. “What now?”

“Don’t move.” A Stormtrooper to his right angled his gun at eye level, prepared to shoot the iktotchi’s head.

“Wait a second,” Móni smirked.

“Who are you asking?” Jien asked. “Because these bucket heads could give a kriff about your time.”

“Quiet. The three of you.” In a calm tone edged with authority was a Stormtrooper with an orange shoulder pad on his left shoulder signifying his commander status. His blaster was raised with professional steadiness and each soft step he took was calculated. He tilted his head and allowed several comrades to fall in step with him, but with binders in their hands. “No one makes a sound or move, else I’ll put bolts between your friends’ eyes.”

Móni grimaced. She could only hope Yesinda’s diabolical mind would get them out of the situation. And using the Force was out of the question; not because she would give herself away to the Empire, but out of pure spite.

Then there it was. Móni never would have thought the togruta’s murderous smile could fill her with relief. The weequay pressed a button on a silver band hidden inside the cuff of his glove and several ports opened along the whole of the court’s centerline.

“What in the-?” A Stormtrooper positioned by a port took a tentative step closer but was thrown off balance when a shockball shot out of it.

Over a dozen shockballs filled the court, each painted with a blue silhouette of a togruta’s head on them, and darted at anyone it considered an opponent against Yesinda’s team. The Stormtrooper’s didn’t have the same eye and agility as Móni’s team, who dodged the rabid balls with ease but did their best with the insufferable amount of movement their armor would allow. Some dodged with surprising dexterity and shot down most of them, and others were shocked into submission.

Amid the pandemonium, Móni rolled under a shockball and came up in front of the commander who was reassembling his troops with new commands. She took his attention away from his unit when she grappled his blaster rifle. He brought his head forward meant to headbutt, but Móni leaned away and elbowed him in the helmet. The trooper grounded himself and shook away his daze to land a kick at her knees. But Móni jumped with her knees to her chest and extended them against his chest. With a grunt, he released his blaster and gasped for air.

“We gotta find a way to the balcony,” Móni pointed with her newly acquired weapon. A bolt grazed her left cheek. She whirled to the commander who had a pistol raised at her. Before he could land another shot, Yesinda’s voice carried across the court.

“Human!” She ordered at the blonde man who looked just about ready to soil himself. But he found enough courage to fumble over the smoke grenades stashed in the front of his pants and executed them. “Not all of them! Idiot!”

An explosion of smoke covered the court. Red bolts illuminated through the gray fog and Móni shot back, hitting several troopers from their shouts of pain. “Get on the ground and to the queue!” She hoped her teammates heard over the Stormtrooper’s blasters and cacophony of new orders. On the ground and crawling her way to the queue box, the commander was closer to her than anticipated when she heard him speak with another troop.

“Spread out to the edges and shuffle your way there. They’re crawling somewhere and the last thing we need is everyone falling over. And I’m allowing everyone to remove these blasted helmets.”

“Here, here,” another responded with liberation. A helmet with yellow markings fell to the ground beside her.

“Like a breath of fresh air,” one breathed in deeply.

“Ugh. I think I stepped on the dead guy’s guts.”

“Focus,” the commander spoke with a clear and familiar accent without the helmet’s filter. “The woman with black curls is a fighter, and the togruta, a well-known criminal.” Their commander shuffled forward near Móni’s waist. She rolled out of his way and crawled without much regard for caution if she wanted to get to her destination quickly.

Avoiding the Stormtrooper’s footfalls was a simple task for Móni, and as much she would like to tell someone it was due to luck or quick intuition, it wasn’t. She bit the inside of her cheek and wondered how to explain this overwhelming “luck” to her teammates if they asked. It was one thing to be an overwhelmingly good shockball player in the Outer Rim (without the need to cheat), but it was another to be a human, a race known to have slower and fewer traits than most others. If word got out about Móni’s existence, then the Emperor would track her until the end of her days. But if Naiya could grasp some bit of truth, then so did everyone else on the court. The situation was becoming more complex than she wanted it to be, and all because she couldn’t control her emotions like some mediocre youngling.

 In the queue box, there was a slender body, blue hair, and antennaepalps.

“Shysha,” Móni whispered.

“Móni. What in the universe happened?” Shysha whispered in return.

“Now’s not the time.” She hoped her slip-up won’t be brought up again. “Is anyone else there?”

“Did you see what that schutta had up her sleeves?” Qar-Tan griped in a harsh whisper. “She practically had control of the whole vaping game!”

Jien muffled a cough as he made his way over on his stomach. “Lower your voice.”

“And Naiya?” Móni asked.

There was silence amongst the team. Within a second, she grew cold with sweat at the likelihood the nautolan could had gone to inform the Stormtroopers of the revealed secret. Móni didn’t miss the fear flash in those black pools when she called her a Jedi. But her body warmed when Shysha spoke.

“She’s here.”

“Great. We need to get to that balcony and find the Hutt before she leaves with our prize money. And since it's our only exit out of here, I guess.”

“Can’t you just jump up there?” Qar-Tan received a good smack across the head from Jien. “What? You saw what she could do. It’s no wonder she’s so good in shockball. It’s almost unfair.”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Jien whispered back with good sense. “Our priority is getting out of here. Forget the money.”

“No,” Shysha spoke with finality. “We just lost our home and it’s going to cost money to find a new one.”

“Besides,” Móni shrugged. “Might as well claim what’s ours.”

“We weren’t going to win,” Qar-Tan said as a matter of fact. “But I want to see Yesinda’s face when we swipe the money from her.”

Jien sighed, obviously not for the unnecessary expedition. “Naiya, you’re new here and we’re not about to drag you into our problems. What do you think?”

Naiya was silent. Around them, the Stormtroopers were edging closer to their location. There was a sound of metal wire extending upward and grasping onto the balcony’s metal ledge above. This alerted the troopers and sent their attention away from where Móni and her team were.

With a stroke of impatience, Qar-Tan clicked his tongue. “I don’t care what you think? Go do your own thing.”

“I say, let Móni handle it on her own.” There was spite in Naiya’s tone and although Móni couldn’t see her eyes, she could feel the vindictive gaze burning through her head. “Why risk more lives when one person with the power equivalent to all of us combined can accomplish the task just fine?”

There was a shuffle and Shysha asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’m not interested in the money. I can make my own way out.”

“Wait.” Without meaning to, Móni’s whisper was harsh and desperate, but from the cease of her shuffling Naiya stopped to listen. Although the nautolan stated her lack of care for money, Móni didn't know her—her goals, circumstances, and life—and found it hard to believe she wouldn’t tell the Empire of her existence in exchange for a pretty sum of credits. It was what everyone in the Abolition ever cared about and their greatest weakness. However, Móni herself didn’t care for the money either but knew her teammates and Kyp could be better off with loaded pockets. Whether the nautolan was offended by Móni’s anger, her being a supposed Jedi, or something else entirely, Móni would never know; what was important was to not offend Naiya any further.

“I’m sorry,” were Móni’s final words to the nautolan.

There was a defeated sigh. “Good luck,” was what she said before skirting off on her elbows and knees in the opposite direction of the violent commotion to their right.

There was a raging bellow that could only belong to the besalisk followed by a trooper’s scream as he soared over Móni’s company’s heads and landed with a hard thud at the other end of the court.

“Stormtrooper’s got to ‘em,” Qar-Tan commented.

Móni clenched her jaw. “She’s right. I’ll be faster on my own.”

“Don’t be an idiot. She doesn’t know—,” Jien wanted to stop her, but Móni talked over him into a hidden commlink tucked under her gloves.

“Betts. How’s it looking on your end?”

After some static Betts spoke in her usual monotonous tone. “Boring.”

“I need you to get to the Hutt’s balcony and open the largest out-of-bounds port on the left side of the court. Then pull me up. And hurry. Our cover is dissipating.”

“Sure. Whatever that meant. Dissipating.” The static ceased. Móni handed her gun to Jien.

Qar-Tan was affronted. “Why don’t I get the gun?”

“Your hands are practically fried, plasma brains,” Shysha retorted. “So are mine.”

Móni held Jien’s bewildered gaze. “Go to the living wards at the fortieth level. In the monkey-lizard building apartment 421 is a boy in a hoverchair and an old theelin. They have a ship they can take you to. Arsenal should be there too­­­.”

“You know Arsenal?” Qar-Tan did not believe it. “Personally?”

“He’s Zione.”

Qar-Tan about screeched at the revelation, but Shysha covered his mouth in time. “You’re probably the only person who didn’t know.”

“Take care of the kid.” Móni pleaded. Jien could only nod in response.

“Móni. I’m at the balcony and I opened the ports.”

“Alright. Just a sec.” Móni returned to her team. “I’ll leave the credits in the ship since I’ll most likely make it there before you guys. Escape through those ports.”

Jien searched her eyes and narrowed his own. “You’re not coming with us.”

With Qar-Tan’s mouth still covered by Shysha’s hand, he exclaimed a muffled ‘what’.

She did not acknowledge the assumption and spoke into the commlink. “Take me up, Betts.”

Shysha searched Móni’s stone-face. It was probably the least expressive mask Shysha had seen from her captain, and it made her uneasy. Anyone would be in a fit of desperation if Stromtroopers came and raided their home, but Móni was the sort of person who laughed when things went dangerously south. In the match where she fended off an entire team on her own, she was grinning like a fool the entire time; swimming in adrenaline and fun. Then it occurred to her, Volsh meant to kill Móni, and not a minute later Imperial forces burst in.

Are they here for her?

Cool metal grazed her attenaepalps and she jumped with a screech. She covered her mouth too late to silence the noise and met everyone else’s equally astonishing looks. Then the dreaded voice spoke from within the fog to confirm what they heard.

“What was that?”

“Good going.” Qar-Tan eyed his companion.

Móni waved her arm at them in a gesture for them to move. “Just get out of here.” She grasped Betts’ metal hand and what grazed Shysha’s head.

“Móni, wait,” Jien began but stopped when Qar-Tan jerked his arm.

“Goodbye,” their captain said as she was lifted away.

From Móni’s steady ascent, below was a nearly transparent screen of gray and three men in white armor; their commander among them. Jien held his blaster at the ready while his teammates made their way down the ports. Móni bit her tongue to keep from shouting to Jien, but she would be at a disadvantage now she was without a weapon—she’s no good to them dead. When Qar-Tan and Shysha jumped in, Jien prepared to follow.

“Hold it right there!” The commander ordered.

To the day she gave her last breath, Móni would never know what stopped Jien from jumping in. When he stared at the Stormtroopers’ bare faces, he recognized them and loosened the grip on the blaster. “Boil. Cody,” he rasped out. The pause seemed like hours as they exchanged a long, forgotten history meant only for the three of them. A secret only they shared from days when clone and anti-Separatists fought side by side. The third trooper raised his gun at eye-level.

Panic tore through Móni’s lungs. “Jien!” The bolt aimed true to its target and made a black hole in the center of the twi’lek’s head. His listless body fell to the side with eyes forever wide with the final thoughts of trust.

Without a beat, the two others whirled at Móni’s location, who was just at the balcony’s ledge. Red bolts whizzed past her when she heaved herself over the metal bar. She hissed in pain when one grazed her right thigh just before she landed inside the Hutt’s lair.

“Close the ports and find out if there’s a shutter or something to close the balcony.”

Without a word, Betts input a few commands on an orange screen with one hand while the other arm retracted to its socket.

“Ports closed.” Now with both hands, her fingers danced over the screen for her second instructions. Móni then noticed a hook wedged into the bar which must have been what soared into the air before the Stormtroopers hit Yesinda’s team. With a grunt of effort and gritted teeth, she pulled the hook’s claws out from its deep indention. The metal creaked when a centimeter of success was made.

“This is going to take too long,” she huffed. Another set of grappling hooks wounded the bar. “Forget the shutters. Let’s go.”

Unperturbed by the immediate situation, and jaded, Betts replied, “I just found it.”

“Now, Betts!”

Betts ignored her master and with a few more touches the shutters went down. It was however impeded by the hooks from sealing off the balcony completely and left a gap. It was enough, the droid understood, to slow down their pursuers. “What’s gotten you so angry?” She asked, rolling with Móni’s strides.

“People are dying because of me. We should have left the moment I felt that Sith board the Abolition. I wouldn't be surprised if he's that "Third" Brother. Sounds like something from a cult.”

“Your presence may have sped things up, but the Empire would have raided the place with or without you in it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve known about the Abolition for some time.”

Móni did not comment on the droid’s truth and focused on finding the Hutt who, without a doubt, escaped with all her credits. Dust-colored tapestries of her notorious family adorned the sticky walls, and an uneaten plate of dead insects sat on a low antique table of Naboo design. By the cheap grandeur of the place, the Hutt made herself a small palace to feel important in the decaying station for it was nothing compared to her cousin’s home on Tatooine.  And like her cousin, she prepped trapped doors for her enemies…

A dust-colored rug with red tribal patterns was flung to the side from covering a long crack on the floor.

“… Or for her to escape from her enemies.” Móni wedged her hands in the crevice and pushed the floor to open further. When the thick metal only budged a few inches from using her full strength, she checked the area for any nearby consoles for Betts to hack into or a concealed mechanism.

Betts turned her head to the balcony where armored hands attempted to wretch the shutters open. Unlike Móni, who forced the metal to creak from her attempts, the clones with their combined efforts couldn’t even make a sound.

“They’re going to explode their way through and capture us if you don’t use it.” 

“Aren’t you even a little anxious about our situation?” Móni groaned when the floor slid another inch.

“What part should I be anxious about?”

“Let’s see…” Móni stood with her hands on her hips from her excursion. With a wave, she motioned the sliding door open. There’s no point in hiding herself now she had been discovered, and as hard as she worked from using the oh-so-powerful Force, her pride was the least of her worries. “I’ve got a cultist after me. A friend of mine was killed. I used the Force when I promised myself I would never use it again. I sent the others to protect a kid and an old lady they don’t know.”

“Pretty much what I expect from you.” Betts peered into the dark opening. The inner corners were scraped as if something had been raised and lowered several times. “The lift is gone,” she commented.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come across a stupid Hutt,” Móni said as she wrapped herself around Betts.

Betts extended her arms and lowered herself into the opening with her master on her back. Her hands slid down the smooth walls and descended them into darkness. There was an explosion above followed by shouts. Móni raised her hand and slid the trap door shut with too much Force that made it bend from the collision.

The droid’s photoreceptors beamed white rays into the dark abyss. “Another day in that slimy hole in the wall and you would weigh as much as a Hutt.”

“Hard to pass up on all that good food.”

“That you made. Control your own portions, woman.”

In the creaking shaft with the lingering Hutt’s odor, the darkness was welcoming. Móni considered releasing her hold to break her bones into a thousand pieces on the floor below. Not now, she thought. People need my help. Maybe after.

“Approaching the floor.” Betts broke Móni’s bloody dream and returned her to the task at hand.

Betts dimmed her brightened eyes for a pool of light below grew larger the further their descent. Soon, voices were heard, and the blurred light formed a square with the missing metal shaft. A large shadow slugged its way past and spoke in Huttese:

[How much longer? I don’t trust that Grand Inquisitor and his lackey's promise for my “seamless” escape. I’m positive he intends to keep me inside during the Imperial’s lockdown of the Abolition.]

[Not long,] a male voice rasped with age spoke in his master’s tongue. [Just prepping the ship.]

[Prepping for what?] The Hutt’s anger flared.

There was a cough before the male-servant replied serenely, [The weight, otherwise we’d be making a rather slow escape.]

If the Hutt was offended by the reply, it certainly didn’t convey in her tone, [Only load the credits. Forget everything else.]

Móni whispered to her droid, “That’s our cue.”

She released her hold in the way she imagined just moments ago, only—against her fantasy—she landed on her feet unscathed. The Hutt gave such a turn, her tail swept under the ishi tib’s feet and he fell on his back. He groaned in pain from his weary bones and rolled onto his side without making much effort to lift himself up. The Hutt’s surprise left her face when she recognized the human before her.

“Durmónia. I expected Yesinda to come after my credits, never you.”

“There’s a cosmic storm going on up there, and my team and I need our winnings for our trip outta here.”

The Hutt roared with laughter, shaking her sagging skin and fat. “Winnings? You were never going to win. The moment I included that bounty hunter in your roster, it was your loss.”

An eyebrow quirked its way up. “Bounty hunter? Didn't know I had a price on my head."

The Hutt’s slimy lips raised to a smirk. The satisfaction glimmering in her watery eyes raised a pique of annoyance in Móni.

“You don't,” she cooed. "But the Emperor seems to have a special interest in you."

Móni’s breathing hitched. It couldn’t have been possible. How long had the Emperor known about her existence? The wheels turned in her head for any moment in the past she used the Force. The last time was years ago, before the Clone Wars even began. Unless…

“Someone survived the raid,” she finished her thoughts aloud.

“You’ve been one of my best competitors, but unfortunately—”

From behind the Hutt, a woman bounty hunter flew out of the shadows and her neck trapped in Móni’s outstretched hand.

“I’m worth more than your weight.”

A growl erupted from the slug’s enormous neck. "Forget the Inquisitor's orders. Get her!"

Nine bounty hunters emerged from hiding and surrounded the lonely human with blasters, vibroblades, and other assortments of modified weapons.

“Remember. She’s worth more alive.”

“That makes things a lot easier for me.” Móni Force pushed a bounty hunter to the wall with little control, cracking the woman’s armor and helmet. “You’re going to wait for the troopers to get me or do you want your money?”

A rodian was the first to shoot. Móni seamlessly dodged the red beam and allowed it to strike a bounty hunter behind her. A masked female swung her vibroblades with some mastery, but Móni grabbed her with the Force, swung her into another hunter and into a wall that rendered them unconscious. The back of her neck prickled from the sensation of something piercing a thin barrier behind her head. She tilted her head to the side when a vibroblade missed her cheek by mere centimeters. Móni took the arm the blade belonged to and flung the being over and in front of her; their back struck the floor with a crack followed by a scream.

The next two came at her with some strategy: one in front and the other behind. The other three remained at a distance with their blasters raised at the ready. Móni took a moment to avert her attention to the Hutt boarding a ship while dragging the ishi tib by the ankle behind her.

Betts’ singular wheel peeked from the tunnel above the shaft. “Stay where you are Betts!” Móni warned.

She closed her eyes and absorbed the Force around her as if inhaling the purest air into the lungs. Her arms reciprocated the flow of the Force flowing in then extended the flow out into a wave that knocked everyone back to a wall and rocked the area. The Hutt lost her balance and her thin arms flailed miserably as she slid off the ramp. Betts dropped to the shaft. Beside her a bounty hunter moaned of pain, so she smacked him hard against the head to silence him.

Móni ignored the Hutt’s protests when she stepped into the ship. It was unusually wide and the floors slick, meant to accommodate her kind. Off to the side is a chest cracked open with gold credits. When she lifted the lid her eyebrows shot up, impressed with how much the Hutt managed to get down there in little time. She found her goal, the new question was how to transport it. With a quick glance around the ship, she scanned for anything capable to hold enough credits for—assuming nothing has happened to the others—four. Spread out on a round table is a thick tapestry with designs Móni didn’t have the time to consider. She stripped the table and tested the material for its strength and durability. A vibroblade could cut through it with a little more effort than a singular slice and it wouldn’t burn as easily as cheap cloth. Móni shrugged and jutted her lower lip at its adequacy.

When she stomped down the ramp with a bulk of credits slung behind her back, the Hutt screeched, “That’s a family heirloom dating back centuries!”

“Consider it payment for trying to get me killed and my sparing your life.”

“No!” Still hurt from the fall, her sluggish movement appeared much heavier. She smacked the ishi tib over its green head, who was still splayed out on the floor. “Do something, Denbo!” His only response was a groan.

“Here.” Móni held the sack out toward Betts.

“So,” Betts started as she took the load from her master. “It seems you are the cause.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” Móni shoved the sack against the droid.

“Does this mean we can live away from living things? Specifically, ones who don’t puke every night.”

Like a shadow being cast, the room went cold and the air much too still. Móni spun to a masked male clad in black and gray. In his extended hand was a long, metal cylinder she recognized all too well. A red saber extended from the blade emitter which its wielder executed a swift spin to give Móni enough speculation that the male was properly trained… unlike her sorry self.

"Third Brother." The Hutt shirked back to the wall. "I can explain. She attacked me first!"

“Find us a way out,” Móni spoke under breath, more than loud enough for Betts to hear. “Fast.”

The Sith, or Third Brother, spun the humming lightsaber above his head and brought it down in one swift stroke upon Móni's. She sidestepped away but smelt burnt hair from the baby hairs he singed.

With the Force, she lifted a bounty hunter’s blaster to her hand and aimed it at him. “Seems you’ve been on the ship since yesterday, stalking me.”

Behind the dark figure, Betts rolled against the room’s edges, searching for any hidden doors or ports to escape through.

Keep him occupied. Keep him occupied, she chanted to herself.

“Watching me during the shockball match too. Honestly, I don’t know what the Emperor wants with me. I’ve been told I’m kind of annoying, and he wouldn’t strike me as someone who makes friends with nonsensical people. Right?” He took one step forward and went into a stance one could only assume was of someone ready to attack. “We can’t see his face or talk about our Emperor. Makes me wonder…” Betts electrocuted the Hutt with an arc welder when she skulked her way over to take back her beloved tapestry, and, to Móni’s relief, had a scomp link plugged into a terminal. “If he’s self-conscious about his looks. I hear Sith doesn’t do too well for the complexion.”

Her focus returned to the opponent a second too late when he attacked with a fast, upward strike at her chest. Móni’s reflexes did well enough where the saber merely grazed her top garment and burnt the skin on her sternum. “Stars! You’re fast.” Useless as a blaster may be against a lightsaber and ignoring the pain on her chest, Móni fired some bolts to retain his focus on deflecting them. Behind him, Betts succeeded in opening a door.

Next step, Móni’s mind raced, was to mask their exit. Calling Betts for help would alert the Sith, so that option was a dead end. If there was a steam radiator hidden in the mess of grease and cables on the ceiling or walls, there wasn’t any she could spot between searching for one and keeping another eye on the opponent’s movements. The Sith lunged forward with both hands on his lightsaber and performed a precise thrust at Móni’s abdomen. She jumped back and tripped on a bounty hunter’s limp leg, barely missing the follow-up cut intended for her face.

She landed beside an unconscious noghri who had a utility belt strapped around his waist. Without a moment’s thought, she unclasped it and rolled out of the Sith’s downward strike meant for her arm. Móni jumped to her feet and squeezed each pocket on the belt for a familiar, round object. Sensing something amiss, the Sith closed their distance in one stride to create a horizontal strike at the belt. Móni allowed him to cut a piece of it off then shot a victorious glance at the dark figure. When her fingers grasped two metal balls, she pressed a button on them and threw them at her feet.

Smoke exploded into the square space, concealing Móni and her route out. A faded red glow and hum of the lightsaber were the only indications of the Sith’s whereabouts, and Móni concentrated on the Force around her to conceal her presence from him.

Betts detected her master’s heat signature then grasped her arm with her metal digits to lure her in the right direction. The Hutt wailed for her lost treasure, to which Móni clicked her tongue in annoyance at.  She pushed Betts into the doorway and whispered harshly, “Hurry up and close the thing.”

A loud hum from the lightsaber’s sudden swing sent a cold chill down Móni’s neck; the movement could only mean he made a running start toward the Hutt’s troublesome sobs and their location.

“Now, Betts!”

The droid had her fingers-turned scomp link plugged in the terminal already and turned it left to right. The Sith’s lightsaber was a clear light of red when it plunged into the closing door. Móni stepped back from the blade’s tip burned through the door’s center and pointed at her nose.

“Make a run for it.”

“Never a dull moment with you,” Betts responded with exhaustion.

Móni sprinted down the poorly lit hall with Betts rolling in pace beside her. “We’ve got to get to the living wards, fast.”

As soon as she finished her panicked thought, she stopped fast beside a rectangular wall welded poorly in place. She pressed her ear to it and knocked twice. It was hollow on the other side. She took a step back and Forced pushed the wall inward, which sent the flimsy piece flying into a large, circular shaft lined with broken tubes, torn cables, and open panels stripped of their parts.

Betts peered inside with her glowing eyes. “An elevator as old as Jabba.”

“Let’s do this.” Móni jumped onto a ladder that moaned with a weight it probably hadn’t felt in decades. Betts extended her arms and swung from tube to tube down the shaft.

Inside the left side of the torn-through wall was a mechanism that seemed to fit into the adjacent side. Móni flexed her fingers to test its maneuverability. The mechanism stirred and creaked awake with displeasure but was hard to budge out of its pocket.

She let out a huff of exertion. “It’s rusted shut in there. And heavy.” Móni held her breath and tried again.

The mechanism slid out, and whatever color the door once had was copper and brown from years of disservice. With every ounce of concentration, she closed it all the way, sealing them in darkness.

“Let’s see him try opening that.”

Chapter Text

Chaos reigned down in the stadium. The clones shot anyone who tried to escape or assaulted them. Even worse, fights broke out amongst the Abolition residents over corpses’ credits and hidden valuables. There were also brutal bouts when it came to stuffing aliens into compact hatches, ventilation systems, and many other routes of escape the troopers had no knowledge of, until they’re caught and killed. Luckily, Zione knew every concealed pathway within the stadium due to an old assignment as Arsenal where he had to copy the area’s schematics from the Hutt’s personal database. The unfortunate part was he made his getaway with a crazed Nightbrother who had ­­­­­­­­­­­yellow eyes tainted with red and cybernetic legs.

They moved along the stands crouched to the floor with Zione in the lead. His two-metered body, not including his tail, took up a lot of space and made for an uncomfortable escape. The zabrak following him snarled from the slow pace but kept his attention to their surroundings to stop anything that could further impede on their timing.

Sentients ran amok across the stands with their blasters raised at the ready but were swiftly taken down by the adept Stormtroopers. One frantic rodian attempted to jump over a row of seats and was startled to find two figures crawling below. He landed on Zione’s tail which incited a yelp of pain. An annoyed scowl formed on the zabrak’s features as he flipped the rodian over the next row in one fluid motion. When he looked above the stands, two Stormtroopers were walking over rows to where they last saw the rodian and in their direction.

“Move faster,” he growled at Zione.

Zione contained his backtalk and through gritted teeth replied, “I’m moving as best I can.” He wished the stands were more accommodating to beings his size.

In a moment of weakness, Zione needed to stretch his crushed tail and pop the bones. The zabrak pushed it down before it could be visible, but his touch raised alarms. Zione stood up and whipped around his attention to the horned sith. “Touch my tail again and I’ll rip your legs off.”

“Hey, you! Put your hands where I can see them!” A Stormtrooper commanded as he and his partner raised their blasters at him.

Zione did as he was told. The zabrak, however, rose up and Force pushed the troopers several rows back. A few other troopers in the vicinity turned to the commotion and reacted quickly.

“After them!”

The zabrak bared his teeth at the incoming nuisance.

Zione let his “partner” deal with the obstacles as he ran toward his escape. Though, one trooper detached himself from his group to go after him and shot bolts over his head. Zione skidded to a stop and ducked behind a row. From his utility belt, he removed a triangular knife with ragged edges and blue wires extending from the hilt to form pulsing veins across the blade. When the trooper took one breath of no firing, Zione threw the blade directly between the soldier’s shoulder and breastplates. The trooper only needed a second to absorb the pain and aimed at his target, but electricity ran throughout his body and he fell to the ground with steam rising through the armor's seams.

Behind, the zabrak used the Force to disarm the troopers and Force pushed them back. Zione sprinted to a seat labeled with the glowing white numbers he was searching for then lifted the seat’s arms which made a satisfying click. He pushed it back to open a dark entrance of a clandestine network that coursed throughout the Abolition.

He could hear the zabrak’s quick and heavy steps approaching. He slipped inside and closed and locked the hatch after him. When the zabrak reached the seat the corner of his mouth and eye twitched with irritation. He surveyed the area to find the Stormtroopers and inhabitants preoccupied with each other.

His hand recalled a lightsaber with a broken crescent at its hilt from inside of his open top. A red blade extended and hummed to life, and with it burned a circle around the chair and lifted it out of its place. He analyzed the darkness beyond the burning red edges of his work then jumped into the unknown.

The passages were dark and damp, but it did not have the putrid smell or slimy walls of the Abolition’s surface. From the hundreds of thousands who lived in the space station, less than a hundred may have had any knowledge of these routes. It was much too large to be a ventilation shaft for the zabrak could stand his full height, and neither was it a sewage system because of the lack of water. The narrow space was well built with odd designs placed on every other ceiling block, which the zabrak could not decipher. He did deduce it must have been a language of the race who built the Abolition during the Old Republic. Their symbols may have been of importance to help guide him through the tunnels since there was no sign of the amani.

A distant echo of footsteps carried across the tubes and reached the zabrak’s well-trained ears. They were not heavy and did not pitter-patter like an amani but were light and quick with some weight put into them. A humanoid. And they were not alone. He concentrated on the vibration coursing from the floor into his metal legs and into his organic midsection. It was continuous, like a wheel. A droid. A humanoid and a droid.

He followed the vibration’s intensity as he neared his goal and soon was close enough to hear voices. Both female.

“Where in the seven suns are we?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The latter voice was metallic, which could only belong to the droid.

“Then how do you know how to get to where we need to go?”

“I think your lizard friend may have implanted some information in me.”

“That’s disconcerting.”

“I can tell you’re oozing with concern for me.”

“He’s my friend. And I only have two of those. Why aren’t you concerned for yourself?”

“When have I ever been concerned for anything?”

“Very true.”

The zabrak edged along the wall and peered over the corner to catch a glimpse of a servant droid and a dark-skinned human with a bun of black curls. Slung over her shoulder was a bulging sack that looked 20 times her weight, but there was no fatigue in her voice or body. He recognized her as the talented shockball player with fast reflexes and finely tuned agility. She stiffened for a breath of a second.

“What?” The droid turned its beaming eyes on the human.

“How much further?” The human murmured.

“We should be close by.”

They continued down the corridor and made a left turn. The zabrak eased his way across with as little pressure on his metal joints as he could else their lack of maintenance would squeak through every passageway. He did not forget the moment the human held her breath; she knew she was being followed. The woman was not someone to be trifled with.

“Here,” the droid said. Its eyes illuminated an indented circle in the ceiling. “Looks like it can only be opened from the other side.”

The woman took a moment to observe their exit, then focused on the zabrak’s exact location behind her. “Come out.”

The zabrak felt for his lightsaber being safely tucked out of sight in his top before making himself known. He did not raise his hands in surrender, but rather stalked forward with his hands placed behind his lower back.

“You’re more skilled than I thought,” he said simply.

The woman’s sunset eyes glowered at him, waiting for a proper response. She knew he was warming her up.

He continued his polite tone, “I watched your match. Or what was left of it.”

Her glower did not falter. She was pondering her next move--analyzing the unknown. He noticed a slight movement of her jaw, but she still held her tongue.

“I believe introductions are in order. I am Maul. A… member of a crime syndicate. And you are Durmónia, if I recall--”

“What are you here for?” She cut him off, quick and sharp.

“I am looking for transportation. Your friend was the one who told me about this place.”

Móni tilted her head in question. “Friend?”

“Yes. The amani. He told me I may run into you and that I should ask for your guidance.”

The woman held the sack over to the droid and dropped it in its outstretched arms. “This is as far as you’ll go.”

“Uh. Móni?” The droid questioned without much hesitation. “He only needs a ship. Zione has plenty stocked somewhere.”

Maul narrowed his eyes at the woman. The droid bought the diversion, but the woman… the woman was looking past his politeness. His lies. His being a poor zabrak who got tangled in crime for a living. No. She saw more. And there was only one group who had the ability to look beyond and into the soul of a matter.

He called his lightsaber into his hand and lit the pulsing red blade. “Jedi,” he sneered.

Maul couldn’t decide whether to be agitated over this blockade or excited. He hadn’t had a proper duel since Ahsoka. The remainder of his time until that moment had been fodder. He thirsted for the smell of burnt skin and sweat. To test his limits again and bask in the glory of victory. He should avoid battle else it could cost his growing empire and its future. But if she insisted, who was he to stop her?

When the title bounced off his tongue rage flared within Móni. Uncontrolled, raw anger. Something very unbecoming of a Jedi.

Before he could form another thought, he was pushed back with what felt like the power of a herd of banthas. He struck a wall, winding him upon contact. He caught his fall with his hands, and gasped and coughed for the air to return to his lungs. His head spun and ears rang, disallowing him to comprehend what she was doing.

There was a loud warping of metal being torn apart and faded voices. Maul opened his mouth to pop the ears and willed his mind to focus.

The droid lifted itself and the sack with a prolonged arm into a forced hole in the ceiling. Clearly on alert, Móni stepped into Maul’s line of sight.

Already recovering from his body’s shock, Maul stood on his steel legs and relit his lightsaber. This time, he extended a second blade on the opposite end. He cracked his neck without losing eye contact--a malicious grin spread across his red and black features.

“Let’s begin.”

A snort.

Ready to sprint to a long-awaited duel, Maul was stopped by a snort coming from the woman. His grin faltered into a scowl.

“Were you expecting a duel?” Móni mocked a frown and shrugged her shoulders. “Hate to tell you, but I don’t have a lightsaber. Never held one in my life.”

That was certainly a curious piece of information and disappointing. “No matter. You won’t make the fight easy with or without one.” He took another step.

“Says the one with a weapon,” she retorted. “Not exactly a fair fight.”

“We shall see.” Bored of the idle chatter, without a doubt meant to stall for time, Maul broke his stance and jumped with his lightsaber raised above his head.

Another Force push halted his fall, but he bounced off the wall with his legs in anticipation and flung at the woman with a diagonal uppercut of his saber. Alarmed by his dexterity, she fell back to the ground on her hands to barely dodge the hot weapon. Maul swung his blade down at her, only making scorched cuts on the floor as she deftly avoided each strike. She back rolled into a crouch, which he took as an opportune moment to fling her against the wall. To his astonishment, as if she could see the Force, she deflected it with a wave of her hand and attempted to pull his lightsaber away.

With the battle of wills, Maul did not let go of his weapon as the woman dragged him towards her. Her use of the Force was powerful, nearly on the same level as his former master. But her control of it was amateur as well as her movements. He could tell she lacked proper training and assumed she was only able to move away from his strikes by instinct alone. And if what she said was true, how she never held a lightsaber in her life, then she was neither Jedi, nor Padawan, nor Sith. Could she have been self-taught? Doubtful. To use the Force required training, for one needed to understand it to use it. And that knowledge could only be passed through Jedi masters or Sith lords.

He was getting more intrigued by the human.

From the hole above, the droid’s voice echoed, “Are you done, yet?”

“Pull me up, Betts!” Móni exhaled to deflate her tension and spiraled her hands in the same motion she wanted the lightsaber to move. Maul flipped onto his side, then was pushed back several meters.

An arm extended down the hole and Móni jumped to grab a hold of it. Maul seethed with anger and threw his lightsaber in a spin like a disc. The woman jumped up the arm and held her feet out in front of her as the blade cut the droid’s arm beneath her.

He heard her groan, “Great.”

Maul sprinted after her as he recalled his weapon. He jumped into the opening and leaped off the walls to ascend to her. The squeaking halt of metal gears rung down followed by the woman’s shaky voice, “What’s going on, Betts?”

“Slight malfunction. Kyp’s on it,” the droid echoed back.

He grinned at his opportunity until he finally reached her. He hung onto an inactive console with one hand, whilst his other illuminated their faces with the red glow of his saber. Her features were smooth but riddled with sweat and smeared with black oil. Her loose curls still retained their volume, despite the perspiration on her forehead, and her full lips slightly parted in surprise. The brilliance of her eyes was what struck him; they were Sith-like, but not so clouded with rage. Without fear or malice, they looked directly into his own blood-stained ones in awe.

Maul bared his gritted teeth from the insufferable struggle of striking her down. There was never sympathy nor regret when he aimed for a kill; age and gender mattered little, and their status and circumstances even less so. But when he imagined searing his blade into her flesh, he considered what he would lose. Hung before him was a being he had never come across in all his existence, and it was there for the taking. Raw, unbridled power was at his fingertips. He felt it at the stadium, and he could sense it then. The woman was no ordinary human, if her sensitive touch with the Force was not proof enough, her unnatural strength was. And he could not ignore the foreboding emotions welling up within her.

He relinquished the pulsating blade and felt the surface’s cool air drift down rather than his weapon’s heat.

Her expression contorted from surprise to confusion to disappointment.

“Kill me,” she whispered.

Sorrow and depression rose in waves, and when he didn’t respond, her anger flared burning hot. She yanked at his collar without restraint, nearly pulling him away from his leverage; although, he had a feeling she could have lifted him with ease.

“Do it!”

The hatred. The anger. Her mind was cracked, and all he had to do was break her.

“Hm. No,” he smirked. “You will be of use to me.”

“You--,” she began with a sharp inhale, but stopped when the extended arm jerked to life and raised her to the exit. When she stepped onto the surface there was a clamor of voices who called her by name and filled with worry.

Maul jumped the final few meters and landed swiftly onto the surface. There was an array of ships docked side by side. Some were under refurbishment and others were a complete disaster as if they were taken directly out of a scrapyard. There were only two at most that appeared fit enough to fly. He then took the time to consider the group surrounding Móni: a female balosar, a male iktotchi, an old theelin, a half theelin child, and…

A devilish smirk grew on his lips at the amani. “We meet again. And so soon, Arsenal.”

Half of Zione’s face twitched with frustration, but he made no other movement. The balosar and iktotchi on the other hand were in a protective stance before the theelins.

Móni locked eyes with Maul for a moment—a mutual understanding passed between them. The woman knew he could kill every breathing thing in a blink of an eye, and if all he wanted was a ship and her in return for their lives, there wasn’t much to consider.

She turned to the group. “Go.”

“But,” the theelin child started from his hoverchair.

Móni crouched to his eye level. “You’ll be safe with these guys. I trust them. And I need you to trust me. I’m not safe. You can’t be around me. Not anymore.” She placed a kiss on his forehead then wiped his tears with her thumbs.

“You promised, Dad,” he sobbed. “You promised you’d protect me. You can’t go.”

“I am protecting you. I can’t fight him.”

Kyp glanced at the dual-colored zabrak with whom he made eye contact within a span of less than a second. But it was enough to give him goosebumps when he comprehended the pure terror that radiated from him. When he examined Móni, anxiety claimed her instead of the usual humor and hubris that lifted her shoulders.

His strong and independent friend had finally been beaten and he could not bear the thought. If he could hold onto her he would, but all he could do was watch her walk away from his life.

“Thank you for everything.”

She stood and faced Zione. “We’ll take the smaller freighter.” Before walking past, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Goodbye, friend.” He bowed his head and placed his overly large hand on top of her smaller one before she slipped away to follow a new purpose.

Maul made his way to their designated starship and manually opened the hatch from the rear. Inside, the empty gallery was built for small cargo runs as there was barely any room to fit more than two, full-grown Hutts. Through the automatic door, the lounge area brought to light the specifications for those who pilot the ship: two humanoids. There were two chairs, two quarters, and a Djark game table. He went through two more automatic doors—past the airlocks—and into the cockpit. Maul took no time to start the engines and set the coordinates.

Zione pattered to the furthest end of the dock and activated the switch to open the docking bay. A blue protective barrier turned on to cover the opening and halt space’s suction. He stared into the cockpit for one final look at Móni, but she was not there. The freighter flew out when there was just enough space for it to go through, then disappeared into hyperspace.

Móni sat in the gallery with her head buried in her knees. The soft thrum of hyperspace outside was a sort of lull to her ears, and the vibrations on her back eased some of the stress. She did not care about the destination. She knew the Force had some sort of influence over Maul, but if it hadn’t, she would be happily dead by now.

‘Use,’ he said. She couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle. What a farce. She’s never been of use to anyone. She was a mistake, and that’s all she would ever be.

Chapter Text

The strum of hyperspace ceased along with the therapeutic vibrations. Móni lifted her face to softly bang it against the gallery’s wall. There was a lump in her throat she could not swallow, her lungs were tight behind her ribs, and breaths shallow. There was a whirlwind of anguish and anger she had no way of releasing, and her eyes were as dry as the sands of Tatooine. Her hands pulled on her taut hair, releasing it from their restraint. Betts’ cool, metal hand could be felt through the fabric and onto the skin of her back. It was of no comfort and it was not what she wanted. She wanted to cry out everything she was feeling, but her body wouldn’t allow it. Screaming used to help, but not anymore. Her nails dug deep into the skin of her forearm, drawing out the pain she wanted, and blood. Her mind wandered to something sharp to press against her skin until the automatic door slid open.

Her captor stepped forward in the same manner he did back in the Abolition: calm, poised, and refined with hands behind his back. The zabrak was fiercer than the thing who referred to itself as “Third Brother”, and plenty more skilled. The only way Móni was able to keep him at bay—until Betts gave everyone their loot—was to use the Force, even when she would have rather let him pierce her heart. What he wanted from her she could care less about. When the time she found her motivation to escape, she’d leave him and all his Sith antics behind and start a new life again.

Maul skimmed the blood dripping down her arm without a blink of concern. “Your anger torments you. You fight it when you should let it flow through you. If you let it, you will be twice as powerful than you are now.”

“Save your Sith jargon for someone who cares.” Móni stood before him and found they were the same height; she had no choice but to make direct eye contact with him. She pitied how much hate Maul harnessed behind those tainted irises. She considered what a radiant yellow they could have been if not for his use of the Dark Side of the Force. “I don’t believe in the ways of the Sith or Jedi. You just use the Force to fight against each other.” When she stepped around him her body swayed before she caught her balance. She hadn’t realized how heavy her eyes felt and how tired she was. Her body ached for a bed and a pillow to rest her head on.

“Who taught you how to use the Force?” He asked, clearly unconcerned about her fatigue.

Móni stopped and considered what to say. It seemed his use of her stemmed from whatever potential he saw. She was not afraid of being used, only what the user would do to make her compliant. Maul knew of those who were important to her, saw their faces even. He didn’t know their location, but she wouldn’t put it past him to find them. Although, she trusted Zione to hide everyone away to the point of vanishment. It was Palpatine who was the issue, but if she didn’t know where she was being taken then there’s a good chance it would be a long time before anyone would find her again. But in no way did she plan on staying with him long. Just enough time for Zione and the others to get their lives settled and submerged under the radar.

“You don’t need to know,” was her final answer.

There was a rise of irritation in him, but he did his best to control it and Móni was strangely amused by it.

“One last thing,” he spoke with an obvious restraint in the back of his throat. “That mark on your chest. It was done with a lightsaber. But not my doing.”

She looked down on her sternum where the skin was black and red. “Forgot about that.”

Maul raised his hairless brow. “A high tolerance to pain as well.”

Móni side-eyed him a glare from the unnecessary analysis and continued, “Some guy who called himself ‘Third Brother’ attacked me.”

Maul brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it in deep thought. “Do you know who the Third Brother is?”

“An Imperial soldier trained in the ways of the Sith?” she shrugged.

“They are a legion of Sith users called Inquisitors. Their purpose is to hunt Jedi.”

“Jedi hunters?” Móni feigned fascination. “Fascinating.”

“Why is someone who claims not to be a Jedi is being hunted by Jedi hunters?” he glowered at her.

“I haven’t a clue. Listen,” the fatigue was weighing down on her, “I’ll be more than happy to answer any more questions, but I think you’d prefer if I wasn’t comatose for that.”

The woman could hardly keep herself upright and was struggling to keep herself awake. She had power, Maul knew, but it drained her much too quickly. It was clear she wasn’t accustomed to battle and training, and the endurance that came with it. He would have to remedy that.

Maul dismissed her with a lazy wave of his hand.

After Móni left to find her quarters, Maul stopped Betts.

“Droid. How long have you served her?”

“Few years.”

“How does she know to use the Force?”

Betts peered up at him with its lifeless yellow photoreceptors. “What do I know about the Force? I’m just a droid who serves.”

She rolled after her master and left Maul to his own thoughts.

The woman was curious. The Inquisitors tracking her down could mean one of two things: she was a Jedi and was being lied to or…

“Or,” he breathed in. She was purposely being searched for by the Empire.

No.

“Master.”

If so, she was just as much a weapon as she was bait. Their meeting was fated.

He was meant to bring the Empire to its knees.

-

Bundled under insulated sheets and on top of a hard cot, Móni was under a deep, dreamless slumber. Accompanying her was Betts flashing a small yellow light to indicate her resting state. Light pooled onto her fetus form when the automatic door slid open. A humanoid silhouette with horns stepped into the doorway.

Móni stirred and her brows furrowed with discomfort. It felt like someone was prodding into her mind, poking at memories and thoughts, but not actually invading. She sat up with a gasp and turned to the shadowed figure, with the usual poised stance and gleaming eyes.

“We are here,” he said.

Her burnt sternum was now a faded scar due to Betts’ remedies—she was able to find a basic medical kit before Móni collapsed into sleep. She, however, needed a shower. There were still oil stains marked on her body and she could feel a nasty second layer of skin from her dried sweat. Betts made a comment about her hair earlier, but Móni couldn’t give a kriff about her appearance or what ‘here’ meant.

Without waiting for Maul in the gallery, she pressed a button to open the hatch and extend the ramp. Nature’s tranquil music of chirping insects and birds drifted along with a running brook. The breeze was cool and carried the smell of grass and dew after a night of rain. Móni couldn’t remember a time she felt at ease.

Betts rolled down past her and surveyed the landscape on her own to present a conclusive result for her master. “Definitely an upgrade from the Abolition. Jungle ecosystem.” She observed the sky overhead. “From the number of lightyears and parsecs I could record, we are still within the Outer Rim. South of the Core.”

Móni took in the sights herself. A clear blue sky encased canopies of giant trees with twisting barks and outstretched roots. There was plant life of various species in every direction; grown out of rich soil that has retained footprints of several beasts who have passed by in the past. The weather was high in humidity, but the change in environment was exactly what she had been striving for to ease her frantic emotions. Only issue was…

Maul stepped off the ramp, his cybernetic limbs whirring at every rise and fall. “This way, Apprentice.”

He pronounced her new title with strange possession and pride. It irked her to her very core and sent a shiver down her spine. “Don’t call me that, Former Apprentice,” she enunciated into a mock.

The Sith paused to regard her with a snarl. “What do you know?”

She raised her chin in defiance. “Enough,” she lied. Palpateen was the only Sith Lord the Force made her wary of, and she knew to some degree the concept of the Rule of Two: a master and an apprentice. Maul must have been cast aside to make room for someone twice as powerful.

His glare lingered on her a few more seconds before he continued forward.

On their short trek, Móni examined the bubbling brook they followed along; filled with moss-covered rocks and jumping freshwater creatures. Her eyes gleamed at the prospect of new ingredients. She wondered if Maul would allow her time for recreational activities unless he planned to lock her up in a cell like an animal. In which case, she would most certainly be planning an escape much faster than she anticipated.

They reached a small clearing with ruins of what used to be a large structure. Ancient designs were carved into the toppled pillars and withstanding doorframes that led to the interior of the building; only there were no walls to consider it as such anymore. There was an altar in the center with a broken figurine sitting crossed legged on top of it. Under the exposure of the elements, it had lost most of its form and detail and overgrown with plants. The head was missing as well, but it did resemble a near-human.

“Move the altar,” Maul said behind her.

She turned to him with a half-eyed look. “Excuse me?”

He placed a hand on its weathered edge and spoke with a little more edge. “The altar. Move it. I won’t ask again.”

Móni crossed her arms over her chest. “Was my flinging you against the wall not enough show of force I have? I can do it again.”

The corner of Maul’s mouth bared a tooth or two but then composed his features. He stared directly into her eyes, through her forehead, past her current thoughts, and cracking through a blockade into her memories. An image of a field of red flowers within a forested area, illuminated by golden rays. Then the laughter of a child.

With every ounce of her being she pushed the intruder out of her thoughts and flung back at him without success. The result was an ache in her head as if she physically banged her head against a wall.

“Don’t do that again,” she spoke through gritted teeth. It wasn’t the invasion that upset her, it was her remembering that was painful.

“Don’t make me ask again.” Maul motioned his head to the altar.

She regarded the altar, then back at him. Wherever Móni was, she liked the planet and it sounded like a good place as any to lay low for as much as she needed to until things settled with the Third Brother and Empire. And she refused to sacrifice some peace for the sake of one zabrak’s ambitions.

“I can’t,” she finally said.

His anger boiling, Maul spoke with a tense jaw, “Why not?”

“The Emperor will sense where I am.”

Maul took a moment to let her statement sink in. He recalled the explosive use of the Force in the shockball arena. Frankly, it was enough to draw anyone who was Force-sensitive. The atmosphere shook from her power; responded to it. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. When she battled him, she used it in powerful bursts. The woman had no control or refused to be in control. The matter with his former master was a topic for another time, but it confirmed his previous suspicions.

“Focus on moving it, not pushing.”

Her brows furrowed. “Pushing moves things.”

Betts cackled beside her, which she was rewarded with a slap against her metal head.

“Mm. Yes,” Maul paced across the platform. “The Force itself is powerful, therefore there’s no need to force it to be even more so. Our purpose is to harness and control it, to do what we want it to do.”

There was some truth with his teachings, but—as a Sith—his beliefs relied on domination; even of the Force in some sense. If her following orders meant a hot bath and food, then so be it. She closed her eyes and focused every part of her senses on the rectangular slab and the figurine on top of it. The slow concentration and precise focus made her twice as sensitive to the Force. There were faint whispers in her ears, each a different voice and a different language. It caressed her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and raised hairs.

Ignore it. That’s all she had to do.

Listen, several voices said at once. Listen.

Ignore it. Ignore it.

Hear us! They shouted within her. So loud, she felt dizzy from the rattle in her brain.

Móni grasped the slab and screamed, “No!” And flung it several meters to the side, flipping it over, and crushing the figurine. “Are we done, yet?” She spat at the zabrak.

An invisible force grasped her neck and pinned her to the ground, face first. She coughed from inhaling dirt through her nose, which only made her inhale it from her mouth as well; making it that much harder to breathe. Her whole body was immobilized, and she was furious.

A pair of metal legs knelt before her, and a multi-colored arm rested upon a raised knee. “Now, then,” she could hear him smirk.

Móni focused on a hanging tree branch—caused by the altar she threw aside—and flung it toward the Sith. It stopped behind him, then crushed into pieces.

His hand took hold of the bundle of curls on top of her head and raised it to make her look upon equally furious eyes. “One more time. And this time, do it right, Apprentice.”

Could she go up against him? Using every ounce of her being to fling him across the planet? What kind of disruption would that cause, she wondered? It could possibly lead the whole Empire to this location. Her fury was fizzing out. Her mind finding reason rather than rage. No. Without a doubt, she could not allow the Emperor to find her. She was certain his manipulation would be ten times worse than Maul’s. And more painful.

Behind them, Betts’ blue circuits turned red and her one arm transformed into a blaster pointed at Maul.

“A battle droid,” Maul said as a matter of fact. He raised a hand toward her, “Disguised as a servant droid. Interesting.” His hand was ready to crush her but paused when Móni called out.

“Stop!” All fear and anger dissipated from her. She didn’t know how or why, but she concentrated on mobilizing her mouth from his iron will. And in the very least, she couldn’t say she felt nothing. Her emotions were in control and they were screaming to protect. Protect Betts.

“I’ll do it again. I’ll do it right. I promise.”

After a moment of consideration, he released his hold on her. Her lungs were freed, and she chastised herself for ever taking advantage of her ability to breathe freely. When she sat up Betts composed herself into the meek, servant form.

“That wasted a lot of power,” Betts slumped.

“Tell me that when you actually blast someone.”

“Like you?”

“By all means. I won’t have to move rocks or deal with this guy anymore.”

Maul’s expression was stoic, withholding every ounce of his annoyance and letting it fester within.

Móni bit back a chuckle and put all her attention on the cursed rock. Everything was going right until the voices echoed in her skull. Block it. Block it! She could barely block Maul from invading her thoughts, how then could she stop the Force from doing so? There needed to be another way.

There was one…

She let herself go and allowed the Force to communicate with her. Its presence was nostalgic, for she would spend hours as a child learning from it and understanding it. Until she realized it was using her when she was mature enough to comprehend how it manipulated the lives of every being. Decided their fates. Like how it decided her mothers’.

It coursed throughout her body, from her head down to her toes, like water cascading through her veins. The sensation made her feel cold, but there was some comfort in its connection. It reminded her of her birth mother.

The voices were soft and nurturing, Do not use us. Use what you have. What you are gifted with.

A long exhale, like someone releasing their final breath, and its presence was gone. Use what was within her. Who she was. She did not know who she was, only she was different and dangerous if Palpatine ever got his hands on her. She focused on her center and saw a well of power she had never noticed before. For the first time, she dipped a small part of herself and externalized it. She opened her eyes and pulled the altar towards her in one graceful motion until it rested in front of Maul.

Confusion laced his features as he stared at the woman. He felt nothing from the Force when she drew the slab in. Instead, the source came entirely from her. The sensation was somewhat erratic, but quiet nonetheless.

“Better,” he finally said before turning to the empty platform. A console was installed in the dead center of it, where the altar used to be. Maul punched in the code then stepped back to allow the camouflaged double doors slide open.

Móni stared at the staircase leading to a lift that could lead to his… base?

“I hope this means I can get a shower and some food,” she said as she promptly descended.

Betts went to Maul, “I’m not dealing with her when she gets angry. As you are now the new master, I leave all that to you. Good luck.”

A small, singular, and insignificant part of himself was doubtful about what he decided to set himself with. But whoever the woman was, his master knew of her which meant she was important. He would have to discover for himself in time what that meant. Meanwhile, he would simply perfect her into the asset he was in desperate need of.

If he could deal with Savage’s temper, then the woman should be no different.

Chapter Text

A fifteen-year-old Móni sat in the dark corner of her room. Vines and twisting tree barks shaped the walls, branches and leaves formed the flooring. At first glance the room appeared primitive, but the amenities it held were technologically sound for they were engineered by the finest mind: Zahri, her birth mother. The way the home was grown and shaped was only possible because of her ingenuity and skill with botany, engineering, and biology. If anything, she loved the concept of technology interweaving with nature, but respecting nature’s life.

Móni did not attain those abilities but adopted the traits of her other mother, Simera. Her strength, courage, and poor mannerisms were what helped shape Móni into the woman she was. She gazed into a handheld hologram of a devaronian female with thick muscles and long, wavy hair. The blue light the figure emitted reflected onto the fresh tears streaming down from bloodshot eyes. Móni sniffled back mucus and wiped her face dry for the hundredth time that week, leaving a sensitive cheek red with overuse.

There was a soft rap at the door. A soft-spoken woman was heard on the other side. “Durmónia?”

Rather than responding Móni receded further into her corner and held the holoprojection of Simera closer to her chest.

Zahri, the woman Móni was a spitting image of, took a tentative step inside. Her black eyes searched for her daughter’s thin form in the far corner of the room, away from the comfort of her bed and window. She did not sport the head of messy curls like her daughter and instead had it shaved close to her head with some remnants of curls.

“Durmónia?” She tried again. She caught a glimpse of her wife in their daughter’s hands. Zahri swallowed her sob and took a deep breath to settle the pain thumping in her chest. “Why don’t we go out? Survey the forest.”

She waited a beat. Then continued. “The weather is pleasant today. Perfect day for hiking.” She forced any semblance of joy in her voice, but it made her sound more wounded.

Life gleamed in her eyes when her daughter’s head moved. But when it turned, her heart sank. Zahri had never seen her in so much pain before, and it was because she left her alone for so long so she could remedy her own grief. What kind of mother did that? She can’t even remember if she fed her. She was sure she did, out of habit.

“I’m scared,” Móni shuttered. “I’m scared I may kill you too.”

***

A jab at Móni’s side jolted her awake. She was washed and dressed in fresh clothes (thank the stars). Her stomach, though, was filled with water and empty of nutrition. It seemed food was not an important concept for the Sith, as he allowed her to clean herself up but not raid his provisions. Instead, he had her wait in a conference room with a table fit for only four to five people and a holomap displaying the whole galaxy. Some planets were marked in red, others in green, and none of it interested her.

The layout of the hideout was expansive and old, yet only a fraction of it was being used, which meant his syndicate was small or growing. Móni didn’t pay much attention since her main concern upon entering was being given a room and bathing; she knew Betts took care of analyzing the area and formulating a map in her systems.

It had been several minutes since Betts prodded her awake and Móni was ready to lull back to sleep. The door slid open, awakening Móni upright in her seat. Two armored humans, geared from head to toe, strode into the room without so much as giving the unarmed human and droid a glance. Based on the T-shaped visors on their helmets and the jetpacks on their backs, Móni deduced they were Mandalorian… and were very far from home.

The armored woman selected a whole sector on the southernmost part of the galaxy, or the Outer Rim territories, and above it labeled: Sanbra Sector. Alongside it another sector was selected: Bon'nyuw-Luq. She removed her helmet and propped it on her hip to take a step back and admire the newly colored sectors. Her cropped black hair was matted with sweat and her gear singed with fresh black marks.

“Things are going as planned,” the male beside her stated almost questionably.

The woman merely gave him a side-eyed glance before turning. Her sharp, ice blue eyes bore through Móni’s, searching for a weakness in character and testing the limits of her hold. Móni stared back with hooded lids. She blinked slowly.

“Is there something on my face?”

“You the new pet?” The woman responded instantly.

“If you mean loyal, obedient, and does tricks? Then, no.”

The woman furrowed her black brows to that of concern and annoyance. The male beside her removed his helmet and sported a grin that set Móni on edge. He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair to remove the strands from his long face and chuckled.

“This girl’s funny.”

“She’s trouble,” the woman glared.

Without giving his comrade’s words much thought, the male placed his helmet on the table. “I’m Gar Saxon. This here is Rook Kast. We form the Shadow Collective who serves under our Mand'alor, Lord Maul, and who is also in charge of a growing crime syndicate.”

Ah. Lord Maul. She wasn’t surprised, but from what she gathered of the well-mannered, murderous, angry zabrak, a crime lord was not what she imagined him being.

“Not much of a pleasure if you ask me.”

Móni expected a backlash from insulting their leader, but there was only a deep exhale through Rook’s nose and a chortle from Gar.

“Trust me. If you hate him now, you’re going to hate him even more. Welcome to the Crimson Veil.”

The name caused a stir in Móni. Every so often she would hear a word or two about the Crimson Veil from customers in the backwater restaurant she worked in at the Abolition. The syndicate gained enough attraction for even Zione to mention. No one knew who their leader was, but they’ve toppled smaller syndicates and left their mark by killing off the leaders and appointing new ones. The Crimson Veil’s method, Zione explained, was puppeteering these groups from the shadows. Their purpose, however, alluded him as well to everyone else, which was why they were considered one of the most dangerous syndicates.

And Móni became a part of it.

But she couldn’t concern herself with the prospect then for she had bigger things to worry about.

“Great. Where can I get some food?”

Their mess hall was well maintained and empty. Móni began to wonder if these two and Maul were the only members of the organization, since she hadn’t heard or felt another living thing within the compound.

Gar motioned for her to take a seat at the sheer metallic table while he went back to the kitchens. Rook sat across from her and leaned in on her forearm on top of the table, taking in the woman before her even more.

Slightly annoyed from the lack of food, poor sleep (thanks to Maul prodding her mind), and utilizing the Force in an innovative way, Móni decided to be blunt with the Mandalorian. “Is there something you want to ask?”

“I can ask the same about you. You seem to be taking this hostage situation extremely well and haven’t asked us a single thing.”

“How do you know I didn’t join willingly?”

At this Rook narrowed her eyes. “Did Lord Maul promise you something?”

Móni scoffed, “I don’t think so. Even if he did I doubt he’s likely to keep it.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because I know what he’s capable of.”

“You want what he has? Power?”

With a disinterested sigh, Móni swiped away a dust particle on the table. “No.”

“Credits?”

There was a singular crumb of food which Móni lifted with her pointer finger. She scrutinized what it could be from and the kind of food they ate there. “No.”

“Do you know what you want?”

She flicked the crumb right at the center of Rook’s forehead. The woman didn’t flinch from the small stunt.

“No.”

That was what peaked the warrior’s anger. “This isn’t some charity organization. We have a mission. We have a goal. And that is to see through Lord Maul’s vision. You better find your purpose here with us soon, because I will kill you if I sense any disloyalty or betrayal.”

Móni raised her eyebrows from a sudden realization. “You’re upset he trusted me too easily.”

“Obviously. He shouldn’t have shown you our base of operations so soon.”

“He wants me to be his apprentice.”

The shock that coursed through the woman’s expression meant she hadn’t heard or expected the information. Before she could ask anything else, Gar came in with three trays.

“Excuse the quality. It’s mostly rations since our cook is out for the moment. I can promise the tea is good. It’s Mandalorian.”

On the tray, there was a slop of green gelatin and a piece of bread. When Móni pressed her finger onto the bread, not a dent was made. She took a whiff of the steaming tea and smelled a sweet, floral aroma.

“Cassius tea?”

Rook arched an eyebrow, semi-impressed. Gar however was ecstatic. “Yeah! I’m surprised you know it. Not exactly an easy thing to come by nowadays.”

“I’ve had my experience with food and drink before the war ended.”

“Really?” Intrigued, Gar was ready to launch a series of questions before Rook cleared her throat. His fascination lost in an instant, he returned to the topic at hand. “Right. So. What skills do you possess?”

Móni chewed her food and swallowed the tasteless gelatin before answering. Rook waited patiently with her arms crossed over her chest; not acknowledging the food before her. Gar played around with the glop with his spoon before slipping a tiny piece into his mouth.

“I’m a cook.”

Gar chuckled. “I doubt Lord Maul brought you here because of your cooking skills. Although, we really do need a new one,” he mumbled the last bit to himself.

“She’s his apprentice,” Rook said with an edge to her voice.

Gar coughed on the stale bread he bit into and took a sip of his tea to help swallow it down. “Apprentice? You’re a Sith?”

“No.”

“Jedi?” Rook asked.

“No.”

What little humor Gar forced himself to show, was already wearing thin. A common trait Móni tends to take out of people. “Can you use the Force?”

“Sure. Makes cooking a whole lot easier.”

Rook stood abruptly. “There’s no way we can use her. Maul is demented if he thinks she could do anything.”

Móni took a sip of her tea and licked her lips from the natural sweetness the Cassius flower produced. “Lord Maul,” she corrected with mockery.

Silence weighed down on Móni and the warriors. From it a sort of understanding blossomed between them; the woman with the rowdy black curls and poor manners could never be one of them: someone with honor and a sense of duty. However, as Maul’s apprentice, she was untouchable. They didn’t need to like each other, only tolerate one another and their boundaries.

“Right,” Rook spun around and exited the mess hall.

Gar dragged a hand over his worn face. Móni knew she wasn’t making things any easier on them after they had just returned from some sort of assignment. But she was just as worn and drained as they were, so they could save their nosy inquiries for another time. Even if it was at the behest of their leader.

“We’ll continue this tomorrow, yeah?” he took his quarter eaten tray with him as he followed Rook out.

“I thought they would never leave,” Betts commented.

“Oh. So, you can talk now?” Móni emptied the tray into the dispenser shoot.

“Did you really want me to?”

“Could have helped out in making the conversation more awkward.”

Betts took some time to consider. “You’re right. Could have mentioned my missing arm.”

“Agh. Sorry, Betts. Promise I won’t forget next time.” Móni smirked and took another sip of her tea. “Let’s raid the kitchen.”

It was a disaster. Everywhere Móni turned there was filth, most especially in the hard to reach corners. The walls had a brown sheen to them from who knows how many months of grease sprayed onto it. All the wares were half washed and caked with burnt oil. And the floor was littered with crumbs and strands of fallen food.

“Haven’t they heard of cleaning droids?” Betts lifted a brown rag that may have been white once upon a time.

“I wasn’t expecting much, but this certainly surpassed my expectations.” Móni gathered her thick curls and tied it. “Time to get to work.”

Betts rolled over beside Móni and admired their handiwork with her. A battered mouse droid was cleaning up any remains they may had missed off the gray floor. And a larger, more robust cleaning droid rolled beside its smaller counterpart but was finishing off the walls and ceiling with its extended hose and brushes. Both were discovered underneath a heap of rags in a discreet corner. Betts had the honor of repairing them as Móni saw to the culinary tools and freed them of stains. Lastly, the counters gleamed silver and her reflection could be seen.

More than content with the spacious kitchen and surprisingly high-quality instruments, Móni’s freedom was minuscule if it meant her having the chance to cook every day. In the dry storeroom, there were metal crates packed to the ceiling with non-perishable goods, and many Móni recognized with sparkles in her eyes. The cooling chamber held meats from various species across the galaxy, along with fruits, vegetables, and dairy. She and Betts checked the items for any damages, and they all seemed to be well managed, unlike the kitchen.

“Interesting,” Móni hummed.

“I haven’t seen you this happy since you discovered shockball,” Betts began loading an empty crate with ingredients from a recipe she randomly selected from memory.

A grin was plastered on her face while she went through the endless array of rare items at her very fingertips. A small laugh escaped as she was unable to contain her joy any longer.

Free to use the Force, since she understood to some extent how to control it, cooking was in fact a whole lot easier with it. Recalling objects from a distance without moving from the stove was a dream. In a pot was a roba steak bourguignon bubbling to perfection and emitting a savory aroma from the vegetables and spices mixed into it. Cooking on another whirlpool was ghoba rice mixed with spice made from stigmas and styles of a saffiri flower. Betts checked a rising bread in the oven and lowered the heat.

While Móni put a spoonful of the soft roba steak in her mouth to taste, there was chatter of people outside and down the hall. As the group drew closer their voices became more boisterous and clear. The most repeated words Móni could catch were: “annoying”, “blaster”, “injured”, and “tired”.

She set the spoon down and stared at the kitchen’s double sliding doors. The group was just outside the mess hall and sounded around to be 20 or more persons with armor and/or weapons.

Betts examined the food meant to feed at least four people. “Huh.”

“I wasn’t expecting to feed a whole battalion,” Móni countered, sensing Betts’ judgment.

“Or anyone at all.”

The Shadow Collective entered the mess hall causing a raucous with their incessant chatter and disarming themselves of their weapons onto the tables. Móni listened in on some of the more pronounced voices.

“What’s Cook going to make for us today?”

“Slop with slop and a side of slop.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Uh. Guys.”

“Hey! Don’t take your boots off in here. That’s disgusting.”

“There’s been a pebble stuck in my boot the entire time we were fighting those bloody Galgardi’s. I’m getting it out now.”

“Where the blazes is Cook at?”

“What’s his real name anyway?”

“Excuse me. Guys...”

“What’s that smell? Actually smells good.”

“Is he in the kitchen already?”

“Everyone, please listen.”

“Quiet. Avin has something to say. Learn to speak up, kid.”

“I’m 25.”

“Who cares? What is it?”

“Stoma’s dead.”

“Who?”

“Stoma… The cook.”

“That’s his name!”

“Oh… That’s unfortunate. Guess it’s rations for tonight.”

“Wait. Then who’s cooking?”

The mess hall went into a dead silence. Móni stood motionless like a mouse trapped in a corner. Meeting the Shadow Collective would have been inevitable, but she would have rather met them when she was fed and well-rested. Seemed she had no choice in the matter. Not that the Force cared much for her physical wellbeing in the first place anyhow.

From behind the counter's boundary and open view into the mess hall, Móni gawked back at the ragtag team of Mandalorians with hard expressions on their dirt-sweat faces. A blonde man, with the face of someone who appeared younger than his actual age, slipped through the stunned crowd. His armor was scratched and scorched like his counterparts, unlike his pristine blaster that looked as if it had never been used.

His cerulean eyes surveyed the cleaned kitchen, repaired cleaning droids, the unknown servant droid with a missing arm, and finally on the woman with orange eyes.

“Who are you?”

Móni glanced back at her meal before returning her gaze to the young man. “I’m the new cook.”

Chapter Text

Prepping for a larger crowd was easy—since there was an endless supply of goods in stock and time was hardly an issue—for Móni was an accomplished chef with a capable droid as a sous chef. The crime syndicate’s obvious indifference with a new person in their kitchen hardly affected her; it made things simple without the questions and scrutiny. It could just be they were too tired and hungry to care, and eager to eat real food over rations after an arduous journey. No one bothered to socialize with her either. Most ate and left, some ate and drank, and others ate, drank, and chattered amongst themselves. Their consistent shoveling of spoonsful in their mouths without a moment to breathe was a sure sign the food was to their liking, and that prospect delighted Móni. And Betts was over the moon about their meticulous cleaning habits—everyone cleared their dishes and placed them in the conveyer launder which the cleaning droid managed. She didn’t even care about not being thanked for prepping such a glorious meal. What was bothering her was their intimacy. A group of scoundrels with checkered pasts were civilized with one another and there was not even a slight indication of a fight breaking out.

She was jealous. And she knew it. A part of her wanted to be scrutinized, questioned, and be in the conversation. Móni usually gave off airs as not a social creature to disassociate herself from the common crowd. She was afraid of herself, and therefore couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting anyone else by accident. She was an extrovert who lived off the energy of people. It was why she loved shockball. The joy, the willpower, the ego, everyone who played exhumed was what drove her to meet the public eye rather than withdraw from it. She felt alive.

When the inquiries for seconds or thirds slowed, Móni and Betts commanded the cleaning droids to help shut down the kitchen. That was when the young Mandalorian warrior entered.

“Hello,” he spoke without stepping away from the door after it had closed behind him.

Móni quirked an eyebrow but offered some of her kindness. “Hey, yourself.”

“I’m Avin Jor.”

“Durmónia. Móni is fine, though.”

For whatever reason, he seemed intimidated by her presence. She couldn’t fathom why after she had made the most delectable meal they’ve probably ever had in standard months. And no one was poisoned.

“What do you usually do around here?” she asked, obviously needing to broker the silence.

“Compartmentalize the goods,” was his swift response.

Expecting to hear more of his duties, Móni edged a bit away from the counter she was leaning against. Nothing more came out of him.

“So, you’re the one who kept the foodstuff maintained. I was confused for a second, because the kitchen was a stink hole.”

“Stoma didn’t like people in his kitchen. And he hated the cleaning droids. Said they got in his way. Pity he’s dead. He was a semi-good demolitionist.”

“Your friends don’t exactly share the sentiment, I assume.”

Avin lowered his gaze for a moment. Mixed emotions swirled behind his innocent eyes, and Móni could feel the slight confusion emitting from him. The term “friends” probably didn’t fit the description of his relation to the Shadow Collective. When he returned to her, decisiveness finally made its way through.

“Who exactly are you?”

“I just joined today. Met with your bosses too. They don’t like me very much, I think. Can’t be helped, though.”

“You’ve already met Commander Kast and Lieutenant Saxon?”

“And Lord Maul.”

His blue eyes turned the size of a mon calamari’s. “What? He was here?”

“Isn’t this his crime syndicate?”

“Well, yes. But…,” he trailed off. His facial movement noted he was switching tactics and decided on a new set of questions. “Was General Kast the one who selected you, or him?”

“Him,” Móni crossed her arms over her chest and regarded Avin with some curiosity. He did not like Maul at all. And neither did she.

As if taking everything in, he studied the pristine kitchen, the droid with a missing arm, the muscular woman who looked as if she could hold herself in a fight and win. He came to a personal conclusion and eased his tension. His beskar and durasteel armor made no noise as he stepped toward the mystery woman with an outstretched arm. “I’m sure the Commander and Lieutenant received you already, but welcome to the Crimson Veil.”

Without hesitation she took his gloved hand into hers, feeling the cool metal gauntlet on the tips of her fingers. “Your reception is a whole lot better than theirs, so thanks, Kid,” she grinned.

“I’m 25,” he deadpanned.

“I bet.”

“Ugh,” he turned to the dry storage to start on his allotted duty. “You can send your droid to maintenance just down the corridor. Our repair droids will have it fixed in no time.”

“Oh good,” Betts chimed in her sardonic tone. “I’m glad someone is looking out for me.”

Betts repaired her arm herself for no one understood her structure better than she, not even her overbearing owner (who knew little about engineering). The repair droids followed Betts’ commands without complaint and provided everything she needed to finally have a working limb. In the meantime, the only organic in the room found a clunky manifest listing shipment reports for everything gathered in that very room. Coils, turbines, dampers, processors and modules, circuits, valves, and other tedious parts—they were all categorized in sections: weapons, armor, cybernetics, communications, shields, and ships. The most exhaustive section was the cybernetics, most likely for Maul’s mechanical half. Scrolling through, Móni delved further into detailed descriptions of the planets they came from and where they’ve been shipped to. All have been taken to various locations in the southern-most part of the Outer Rim; Móni recalled the galaxy map in the conference room. However, they’ve all been picked up and taken to one planet: D’Qar.

She tapped her cheek. “D’Qar.”

“That’s where we are,” Betts finished with the final tune-ups on her arm. She extended and retracted it to test its repair. “Thought you weren’t interested.”

“Not now anyway. What do you know about it?”

“Not a single sentient thing lives here except for us. No one knows who created these ruins or why they left. Must have been a good reason to leave an eco-friendly planet.”

Móni set down the manifest. Her body was lethargic and her eyes were barely able to keep themselves open. A long yawn escaped her. “Are you almost done?”

“I think I’m going to stay here a while. Familiarize myself with the area.”

Too tired to give an affirmative response, Móni went straight for the automatic door.

The corridors were wide with high ceilings, and light, durable alloy covered the tunneled walls. The place was well lit and it reflected off the alloy to give the place a soft blue ambiance. Her steps didn’t echo as corridors usually did, but rather the flooring absorbed the impact. It was white stone, sanded, and polished smooth—one would argue it was Durosian marble, an expensive material usually found in the Core worlds, but the ripple of whites to grays said otherwise. Whoever inhabited the planet were excellent masons. The question was, were the technologically advanced parts installed by the original residents who built the primitive structures aboveground, or were there others who came after and before the Crimson Veil? Móni would save the question for Betts on another day.

She shuffled to the room where Maul led her on her first arrival; imaginings of beds and pillows ransacked her thoughts as well as a dreamless slumber.

“Where are you going?”

Móni was about ready to fall asleep on that very spot, but she regarded Avin instead. “To my room.”

He blinked at her several times and tilted his head to another direction. “Our quarters are this way.”

Not quite registering his words, Móni nodded her head and continued to her destination.

“That area is off-limits.”

“Says who?”

“No one. But it’s where Maul’s quarters are,” Avin said with repressed scorn.

“And?”

Somewhat thrown off from the simple question, he sought for a reply. “And he’s our leader.”

Móni looked back to where her and, apparently, Maul’s quarters were. She was sure the Sith set them near each other to keep tabs on her, which meant he had his suspicions. Her thoughts may had been slowed and jumbled with fatigue, but she still had half a mind not to mention the psychopath’s intentions. It would only cause complications and too much explanation when all she wanted was a decent shut-eye.

“If you don’t see me tomorrow, I was Force choked in my sleep. Night.”

And just like that, she left the dumbfounded man-boy behind.

And a dreamless slumber she got. Móni couldn’t remember a time she slept so deeply. Coupled with her body’s exhaustion the Abolition’s ventilation systems were usually broken, so sleeping in the heat was common; whereas the base was cool and emitted fresh, hygienic air.

An image emerged from the dark crevices of her mind: an enormous beast with tusks and feline movements. Its feral eyes were as dark as space and were focused solely on Móni. The arching of its back, whipping tail, and crouched position meant it was ready to pounce and take her in its jaws. Fear ran cold throughout her paralyzed body. Two voices told her to run, but the deafening pounds of her heart quieted their calls, leaving her alone with the beast before her.

It leaped. Claws out and mouth agape, it was ready to take its prize. But the red shoulder blades of a muscled humanoid with hair that reached her lower back blocked the horror coming after Móni. The devaronian held an energy pike out before her.

Then there was blood. Blue mixed with green on the forest floor. The beast arose victoriously with the devaronian’s arm in its mouth. It stared back at Móni with a mocking glint, and she could have sworn the edges of its mouth quirked a smirk.

Another image came to view. The beast was no longer whole, rather it’s body was split apart into pieces; its guts hung on branches, skin, and bones littered across the grounds, and green blood flung meters away. Móni huffed deeply, her orange eyes as feral as the beast she had killed.

In an instant Móni sprung out of bed and used the force on an object closest to her to fling at the zabrak standing in the doorway. With a simple wave of his hand, the lamp shifted to the wall beside him and shattered.

“Come, Apprentice.”

Móni stared back with defiance and returned to her bed, cocooning herself in the sheets.

Not a moment later an invisible force grabbed her ankle, slid her off the bed, and dragged her across the floor. She would have collided with the wall if she hadn’t moved the side table across the room and toward Maul. He released his hold on her to bypass the table and return it right to her.

A part of her recalled how the beast was torn apart. The process eluded her since the memory was blacked out in her fit of hysteria, but the motions were there. Like she learned with the slab of stone the day before, she recalled a small piece within herself and tore the table apart in one screeching second. Then she went for the kill. Móni attempted another attack at the Sith’s mind and ruptured his barriers. A flash of boiling lava, molten rocks, and steam pervaded her vision. Through a small window into the outside world reflected a child with big, bright yellow eyes and a crown of peeking horns.

That was all she saw before she was shut out with a storm of rage.

Maul threw a murderous glare at her before calming his externalized anger and holding it all within. He did not expect her to skip his recent memories and strike the ones he recessed long ago. She had to put all she had in order to break him, which was how she pushed so far into his mind. But if he had been a non-Force wielder he would have been turned into a vegetable. He wondered if she knew that. If not, she would find out soon enough.

“Are you finished?” He asked through gritted teeth. He couldn’t deny she learned things quickly; in just a matter of months, she would be sculpted into the very thing he sought. It was all a matter of her cooperation. She’s led an independent life for many years, and breaking that livelihood was not going to be an easy feat. The woman also made things twice as complicated he believed, with great indignation, on purpose.

“Depends. Can I have breakfast first?”

He didn’t bother to acknowledge the question and turned away, knowing full well she would follow.

And she did. Not only out of curiosity but to avoid the full extent of his wrath.

Móni followed Maul to a lift where they were transported to the surface. The ground split open before the transparisteel casing dropped and only the platform and themselves were standing in an unfamiliar location. They were in a clearing of tall grass and large stones with a herd of herbivores feeding off the plant life. Above, bird-like creatures soared across a pure blue expanse with not a trace of clouds. She watched a small reptile sunbathe on a rock and wanted to do the same; definitely not whatever the zabrak’s itinerary was.

Maul turned away from the tranquil scene and into the jungle. With a longing heart, Móni followed suite.

The part of the jungle they were at was denser than the area they landed on the day before. They had to climb over massive roots and pushed apart blades of leaves longer than Móni’s height. Maul took care of creating a path for them without the use of his lightsaber—in certain not to leave a path of singed plant life behind. As for the climbing, Móni was the only one who partook in the strenuous activity, while her “master” Forced jumped over most of the obstacles. She usually had Betts assist with the hard to reach places and never attempted to practice the high jumps; there had been too many poor past experiences for her to attempt it again.

That was until they reached a mountainous blockade of stone that stretched for miles and could only be surpassed with climbing.

“Perfect,” Móni muttered under her breath.

The Sith began his jumping as if he were floating on air. With perfect deftness, he caught ledges and balanced on protruding stones to reach the top in mere seconds. He towered over Móni with his usual poised posture.

Móni rubbed some dirt into her hands and began to climb.

“Jump,” he said from above.

“No, thanks,” was the flat response.

He allowed her to make it halfway before a booming Force tossed her back to the start with a hard thud. She sat up on her elbows to peer at the looming zabrak. With a huff she climbed again. The Force vibrated around her from an incoming projectile and she swung to the side, hanging on with one hand. A rock the size of a Hutt’s head fell past her and struck the ground. Fear or surprise would have been a normal response to almost anyone being crushed by a beaming rock. However, determination fueled her to make it to the top without jumping and make a victorious smirk at his scowling face. Thus, she continued with a wide grin, which she felt agitated the “master”.

Sharp branches. Jagged rocks. Even animals he mind-controlled to perceive her as an enemy were thrown her way. The animals were simple to veer off with her use of the Force, it was blockading his Force strikes that fatigued her. She couldn’t see the attacking Force per se, more like a vague mirage or distortion in her vision of a great mass coming her way. There was also the gift as her mothers described it. A gift greater than an average Force wielder. A gift she had yet to grasp any understanding of.

Maul’s Force strikes gained more momentum the closer she reached the top, and each time she alternated her arms to veer it in another direction. Dust stuck to the sweat glossing her skin and her arms burned from the strain of doing multiple things at once. The jungle’s humidity mixed with the heat made it hard to breathe and her fingers were turning raw or bled from the rough rocks. But rather than the efforts of pain in her pants, she exhaled chuckled huffs at the image in her head when she reached the top. Shoving into the zabrak's face who was the master of who.

Climbing onto the ledge would prove to be the most difficult part—she was sure he would try his hardest to keep her away—in which case Móni decided to showcase a bit of her gift. Her feet found a crevice for her to be able to balance on without the support of her arms. She put her hands together to form a fist, swung it back, then with every bit of strength she had reserved brought it upon the stonewall to cause a massive disruption. It shook violently making loose rockfall and forced hidden creatures to crawl out from their homes in a panic. Maul took a step back to catch his balance and at that moment, she jumped onto the ledge and swung her legs over onto the solid ground.

Móni rolled onto her back and released a tired laugh. She opened her eyes to an upside-down view of an infuriated Sith Lord which only made her laugh even more.

“I haven’t had a good laugh in a long time.”

His twitching upper lip curled back to show white teeth and his brows furrowed so low she thought the zabrak was going to combust with rage.

“No need to get so angry. I did jump.”

The fury pulsating the air and swirling around her was palpable. That time around, Maul did nothing to center his anger and let it flow freely for Móni to feel. It did not bother nor intimidate her; only made her more curious about the repercussions of her casual approach to the supposed lesson. To her surprise, her master went straight to the source of the matter.

“Why?” Maul asked the one-word question as if it weighed a thousand planets: forced and unfamiliar.

Of course, Móni could not ignore his discomfort. “Why is only one of your ears pierced and not both?”

There was a pause, and for a moment Móni could have sworn he considered answering her. Instead, he continued as if he hadn’t heard:

“Why do you fear jumping?”

Móni turned to him, a small smile playing on her dust infested features. Maul’s expression was not as taut as before, but neither had it relaxed. She knew he sensed her anxiety when he first asked her to jump, for she made no effort to mask it. Force jumps were on the top of her list for most hated things to do.

She looked up at the sky as she answered—past the blue ceiling and into the black void of space. “I’m afraid I will never come back down.”

Funny. As much as she considered relinquishing her life, she could not allow herself to disappear.

Despite having no energy, Maul was impressed with her endurance to keep pace with him as they ventured further into the jungle. The stunt she pulled against the stone wall was what depleted her reserves and became a mere walking sack of flesh—precisely what he aimed for, though he anticipated the process to take longer. The sudden spike of fear when he asked her to Force jump was fascinating, to say the least. It did not stem from any sort of acrophobia, but of something quite the opposite: the fear of disappearing into the beyond. What caused the absurd fear he couldn’t understand, and he would have to reach the source if he ever wanted her to accomplish what he asked of her.

Cooperation, again, was the other matter. Her incessant jokes were aggravating and it reminded him too much of a long-standing enemy—a Jedi he loathed more than his former master. Only with her, she enjoyed getting a rile out of him, and the very notion made it twice as aggravating. He considered his master’s teachings; how he would have broken and forced her to become a tamed tool. A part of Maul believed even Darth Sidious would get a headache from the woman’s antics. She complied, but not without a fight. She listened, but not without asking ridiculous questions. She was powerful and strong-willed, both perfect and nightmarish qualities for an apprentice. Her strength could rival his own, and as he improved her skills, she would be twice as difficult to control. Her show of Force in her quarters, when she tore apart the table with ease, was a testament to that. And because of her value for independence, she did not view herself as an apprentice or him a master. The woman was, however, not stupid. She respected Maul’s skills and power, which was his only saving grace from more of her impunities.

He was aware of her reason for not escaping, yet: her loved ones. Since she was conscious of his influence of various crime syndicates, she knew his intelligence network was that more vast. Finding an amani with a half theelin child in a hoverchair did not sound too difficult of a characteristic to find. If they intended to stay away from the Empire, then their location would still be within the Outer Rim. He wondered how she would take a threat. Would she lash out? Cause the whole planet to quake? There was more to her abilities he was sure even she did not understand. To avoid the Emperor’s attention to the planet, it was best to keep those powers in check.

In the end, Maul resorted to a different tactic: showing interest. Manipulation was his unfailing method that produced the best results in terms of drawing out the demons within someone. He only needed to plant seeds of doubt to form insecurities, and fear and anger would grow and expand so they would react in ways he saw fit to his designs. The human didn’t allow herself to be manipulated, however. Whoever taught her the ways of the Force, was neither Jedi nor Sith and programmed her mind to reject any outside influences. Therefore, he attempted something simple. “Humane” as a human would call it. And the result was just as simple. He remembered her droid’s words after she moved the stone slab: she only did as she was told for food and a bath. There were ways to appease the woman, but they were methods he was not accustomed to.

It didn’t matter. He was raised to adapt to any situation. As his master’s former assassin and fulfilling many covert missions where the need to blend into his surroundings were required, this should be treated no differently. He will acclimate. He will perfect his weapon. He will dethrone the Emperor. Everything will go as he planned. And nothing will stop him. Not even the woman.

Móni’s feet ached and her arms felt like the jiggling glop Gar Saxon served a standard night before. She was ready to call it a day until Maul finally stopped.

In the distance were three speeder bikes with three Mandalorians: Rook Kast, Gar Saxon, and Avin Jor. Maul turned to her with a sardonic smirk. “For three standard weeks you will be stranded in the deepest part of D’Qar where the most dangerous of creatures lurk in night and day. You will have no weapons. No droid. Only the Force.”

He tilted his head toward his crew and they pushed Avin forward. Móni could not read the blonde’s thoughts, but she noticed he was a few shades lighter from his average alabaster tone.

“This one is strapped with hidden detonators in his armor. If you use anything other than the Force, a limb or two will come off. But do not worry. I will give you one warning before you send him to his death. Also, it would be best to not draw the Empire’s attention, so do try to keep your powers in check. Otherwise, the man will die in an instant. Am I clear?”

Shocked by the sudden turn of events, Móni could barely process the information much less give a nod of affirmation. And Maul reveled in it. He finally gained the upper hand.

“Good,” he said on a borderline chipper note.

He paced away to the speeder bikes and sped away with Rook and Gar.

Avin and Móni stood in silence amongst the jungle’s buzzing insects, chirping birds, and rustling leaves.

Móni inhaled. “What?!”

Chapter Text

In the rushing river, Avin prepared a trap beneath the water. He clamped the four-legged device into the riverbed and pressed a button to activate it. He connected the device with a wrist panel integrated into his vambrace to alert him of any successful catches before making his way to shore.

He sat down and stared out at nothing. A tall, three-headed blade of grass caught his eye. He ripped it from the ground just to tear it into three separate parts. When he ripped the final pieces, he tossed them to the side. On instinct, he checked his vambrace for a notification on his dinner. Nothing.

Minutes passed and he checked again. An exasperated sigh escaped him as he fell onto his back. The rustling trees blocked the rays of the setting sun against the purple sky, and its orange hues reminded him of his comrade’s eyes who was sitting on a boulder on the river’s shore. She was entirely focused on the water, although he could tell she was looking beyond it—lost in thought.

Based on her expression when Maul told her what Rook had previously told him, she was just as dumbfounded as he was. Gar explained the bare minimum of who the woman was, or what his Commander knew of her so far. She was Maul’s apprentice and a Force wielder, which would explain why the Sith was going through such lengths for a training exercise. Avin didn’t know what to expect when his General commanded his assistance, and nearly collapsed with horror when they explained the bombs embedded in his armor. But he knew why they chose him for the task. His hand went for his pristine blaster and he raised it up before him. The emitter nozzle was not scorched from overuse, the trigger’s coat was not worn away from excess rubbing, and the cooling module was as brand new as the day he got the blaster.

When he followed them into the jungle, he had half a mind to drop off course and escape, which would result in his death. What held him on course was a small voice in his conscious telling him to trust Móni; it didn’t matter if he just met the woman. From their brief interactions, he liked her. Her bluntness and courage was a complete opposite to his character—there was no doubt their contradictions were going to be the adhesive to their bond.

In the corner of his eye, Móni’s crouched form stood straight in a flash. She held out her hand and raised a school of flapping fish into the air then dropped their jumping bodies onto the ground.

“You didn’t happen to bring any spices with you, did you?” she asked with genuine concern.

A bit odd, though, wasn’t she?

Avin followed the woman’s orders to gather dry wood and leaves while she skinned and gutted the fish. When he returned she was breaking a stone flat by colliding it against another with the Force. Afterward, without direct contact, she piled the sticks and leaves and surrounded them with stone. Avin finished the process by using his flamethrower to start the fire. It was obvious this wasn’t the first time the woman had lived without heavy use of technology. It made her all the more curious.

“They didn’t give you any supplies?” Móni asked as she raised a flaky piece of white meat to her lips.

“Only the weapons that come with my armor.” He bit into the seared flesh and was astonished how good it was without any spices. It could have been the species of the fish or how she fried them on the flat slab of rock she chiseled. Either way, the woman was a master. If the meals kept on like this, three weeks may be bearable.

Móni chewed her food in thought. “Can you take your armor off?”

“Not all at once. I need to leave one piece on me at all times, otherwise, I blow up.”

“And I assume you have cameras on yourself too?”

“I wasn’t told I do, but I wouldn’t put it past them.”

An amused quirk of an eyebrow was her only given reaction. “He certainly thought of everything overnight. Probably because he has nothing better to do.”

Avin watched her from his lowered head. “You do know with cameras comes audio recording.”

“He’s not going to blow you up because of a little trash talk. He’s not that petty. I think.”

The Mandalorian chose not to comment, but the exaggerated widening of his eyes spoke volumes.

“You have got to be the calmest person with strapped bombs I have ever met.” Móni licked her fingers clean and leaned back on her hands as she waited for a full explanation.

As he usually did, Avin took his time to choose his words carefully. “They’re testing me.”

“Does it have anything to do with that glossy blaster of yours?”

“Partly,” he said with subdued pain. He avoided eye contact when he continued. “It belonged to a… friend.”

More than anything, Móni wanted to push more information out of him. He was as mysterious as she was, and taking that into perspective the vague backstory was all she was going to get for the night.

“Your life is in the hands of a stranger.”

Avin played with the leaf his half-eaten fish was resting on. He absently poked crescent-shaped holes into it with his nails while he spoke. “I trust you.”

Móni scoffed. “I don’t trust myself.”

“You’re as calm as I am; if not more so. You know you’re not going to let anything happen to me.”

“I’ll do my best not to.” She eased forward to observe her hands. “I don’t want to use the Force.”

The warrior blinked as he processed the information with some level of confusion. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s safe.”

He blew a lip-trill and laughed. “Safe? Maul is the most dangerous being in the galaxy.”

“Speaking of which. Why are you here? It’s obvious you hate Maul.”

His gaze averted to the blaster for a second, which gave Móni all the information she needed.

She sighed with disappointment. “Blindly followed your lover, did you?”

Avin scowled. Not pleased with the question, and not wanting to admit it. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

“Fine. Why don’t you leave if they’re not here anymore, then?”

“Because I have nowhere else to go. And, to some extent, I believe in Maul’s vision.”

“And what is that?”

“Overthrowing the Emperor.”

Móni pulled on her bottom lip in deep thought. She scrutinized Avin’s words, her wheels of cognition working, and piecing together the events transpired in so little time. Maul was using her as a weapon to go against Palpatine.

She had been living in fear of someone she had never met and whose shadow cast throughout the galaxy for more than half her life. Furthermore, she was currently training under someone who knew the man personally. None of this was a coincidence. The Force had its hand in it, guiding Maul and her in a direction she could not possibly fathom. What did it want from her? To take down Palpatine for it? Then what was the point of…

“Móni?” Avin called her with concern.

She looked up fast. “What?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Her nails were piercing the skin of her biceps. When she released their grip, blood trickled down her arm and clung beneath her fingernails. “We should find someplace to sleep for the night. How about up there?”

Avin followed where her head nodded towards. “A tree?”

“Why not? Never slept in a tree before?”

His blue eyes only stared at her with bewilderment.

“You can sleep down here. It’s fine.” Móni put her hand on the twisting trunk of the tree.

“Were you raised as a primitive? Making fire. Catching food. Sleeping in trees.”

“Not every planet is as pleasant as Mandalore.”

“I was raised on Concordia. Its moon.”

“Oh. Excuse me,” she said without any genuine remorse.

Avin was compelled to start an argument on a plethora of things wrong with everything the woman said, along with her bizarre actions. But he decided to let it go. She was naïve about the outcasts who inhabited Concordia and… who was he to judge those who chose to live without technology? It was only the livelihood of nearly every being in the galaxy. He settled within the vertex of roots from the tree when the inlines of his armor blinked red. Móni froze mid-climb.

“You have got to be kidding me.” She stepped away and stared at the blinking armor until it stopped.

“What does he want you to do?”

“Nothing.” Móni found her own vertex to nestle in and turned her back to Avin. “I’ll keep first watch.”

“Right.”

Móni observed the man whose expression was as stoic as a Jedi. “I almost killed you just now and you’re not worried about beasts attacking us while we sleep out in the open.”

“Stressing won’t help anyone. Wake me up in four hours.”

The jungle was quiet at night. Nocturnal insects softly chirped by the river’s banks, which sounded oddly calmer than it had during the day. Above her, the trees’ purple leaves rustled from the cool winds that sent her shivering. She wondered to Kyp’s safety and his tortured eyes when she relayed to him her final goodbyes. She knew he was safe in Zione’s hands, but something within told her it was not the last she saw of him. A vague image formed in her mind’s eye with moving shadows in a gray backdrop. The black masses formed into bodies; some she recognized, but couldn’t pinpoint their exact owner. One revealed itself as the one who called itself “Third Brother”. His mask chipped away from the edges--the debris scattered into the windless void--and dusty rose skin and fine strands of silver hair were revealed. Closer and closer it edged toward his eye, the face becoming more familiar. Scared of who she’ll see, knowing it was someone she didn’t want to be unveiled, Móni drifted back to the cool air brushing against her face.

The heat from the day turned into mist skirting the top of the river and edged toward the banks. It drifted to her feet, over Avin’s sleeping form, and into the jungle. A rustle from a few meters away commanded the woman’s attention. She pressed her hand to the soil to feel the planet’s lifeforce--the scent of dew on grass was more prevalent, Avin’s and many other creature's rhythmic breaths pumped into her fingertips like a beating heart. D’Qar’s history of life, death, and renewal was a perfect flow that shaped the planet. Like a footprint left behind and marked forever, she could feel the remnants of the past sentients who left the planet. There was pain, destruction, and war. But the planet mended itself as if their presence or absence made no difference.

Móni honed her focus on a singular point. Large footfalls from a quadruped. She felt something long and powerful brush past a branch. Its hot breaths sighed onto the leaves it disguised itself behind. Whatever it was, based on its weight against the terrain, it was large and powerful.

She shook Avin awake. “We’ve got to move.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“We’re being hunted.”

Avin sported his helmet and brought down the rangefinder over his right eye. He adjusted it to a thermal scope setting to reveal small creatures in cool or warm colors; many were immobile from sleep. He scanned the area and landed on a hulking mass of red, orange, and yellow stalking toward them.

When he froze Móni didn’t need to be told he spotted it. She pulled at his arm. “We should cross the river and try to make it lose our scent.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They wavered into the frigid water until their feet no longer touched the river’s bed, and swam to the opposite bank. There was a soft thump followed by a silence that made Móni’s hairs rise on end. She turned and coming from behind, hung in the air with its body outstretched, was a beast with feral yellow eyes drawn to its prey. Its fanged mouth was agape, claws were fully extended, and thick, black antlers protruded from its brows. In a single bound the animal was able to reach the humans in the middle of the river, which alarmed Móni of the creature’s prowess.

She sucked in a breath and called from within the Force to swipe the beast several meters to the side. As it was recovering from the sudden attack, Móni Forced pushed Avin from the water and onto the shore.

“Get going!”

“I can’t,” he said with a peak of annoyance as he brushed the dirt off himself with a little more force than necessary.

“And I don’t need your attitude. I can handle this. Maybe.”

“That’s not it. If you do anything wrong, you won’t see my suite light up.”

Móni processed the revelation. “That son of a bantha.”

The beast rose from the water with a blaze of fury and released a roar that shook the water and caused their ears to ring. Avin covered his ears in an attempt to block it out, but the vibrations could still be felt through his bones. He peeked open an eye at Móni who stood firm in front of him, her body on alert and ready to take on the beast’s next move.

Avin scanned the river and saw a blinking blue light beneath its calm current. The fish trap he set but never used.

“Móni, lead it toward the blinking blue light over there.”

She followed where his finger pointed at and nodded. As she stepped into the water she put the trap between herself and the beast.

Unaware of the Mandolorian adjusting the trap’s settings on his wrist panel, the beast set its attention on the female who threw it aside. Móni wasn’t sure what she was going to do once Avin activated the trap. Kill it? Memories Maul had awoken within her early in the morning resurged: splattered green blood, hanging intestines, and half a head of a beast with a broken tusk flashed in her mind’s eye. She shook her head, never wanting to relive that feeling of power. Not to mention Maul would have her head for creating a surge of force energy that could pinpoint their location.

After Maul’s morning wake up call, Móni remembered diving into his thoughts as payback for messing with hers. She wondered if she could control a lesser being.

Móni figured Avin’s trap could only buy her a few seconds for time, so once the beast was caught she needed to penetrate its mind without delay.

But their plan took a turn at the start. Once the beast ran toward her and closed in on the trap, Avin selected its activation on his hologram display, spreading a blue shield to encompass around the beast’s front right paw. It was deterred for only a moment, howling at the unexpected obstacle, but with brute force freed itself free from it.

“Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm,” Móni created a mantra for herself. She closed her eyes to focus on the living being, and the Force surrounded and connected to it. Its aura and connection with the Force were intertwined as if it was what the beast breathed. It was then she realized her plan may have proved to be more difficult, for it was a Force-sensitive creature.

When the creature released itself from the shield, Avin did not falter for a second, his fingers danced over his controls to release another shield over its back right paw. He upped the shield’s strength and released a current of electricity contained within it. He exhaled a nervous chuckle when the creature howled with pain.

“Móni, let’s go-,” he halted when he saw her standing still with eyes closed with concentration. “What are you doing? Let’s go!” He yelled for her attention; a mistake he understood too late.

A glint of yellow fury marked its new prey.

“Oh, great…,” Avin raised the electricity’s current, which only raised the beast’s rage; increasing the adrenaline to release itself from the trap. With a bellow, it tore itself out leaving behind a purple ring of blood around its ankle. A low growl erupted from its chest as it stalked toward the Mandalorian.

Ready for the incoming pounce, Avin slid his fingers across his wrist panel—giving the trap a new set of controls—then reached for two thermal detonators.

In the rushing river, Móni felt for the creature’s mind. Without delay, she attacked without holding back. She felt its rage and fear placed on Avin, which escalated Móni’s own worries. She tore through its mind; flashes of pain, peace, and joy of the creature’s life exploded into Móni, but it was soon followed by anger when it took note of her foreign presence inside its thoughts. Its strength left Móni gasping as if she was bludgeoned against the head, but its feelings were simple… linear. It’s because of its simplicity the emotions were that much stronger; there was no doubt, no worries, no complications to make it stall for even a moment. It had only one thing it wanted to do: kill.

Avin paused for a moment when the beast halted in its tracks and shook its head violently as if to rid of something on its head. Its antlers thrashed the water in a fit of hysteria, then it clawed at its own skull while whimpering from whatever it was upsetting it. He flickered his attention to Móni who was sweating at the brow and eyebrows wrinkled together with a great deal of effort. Her mouth quirked as if to suppress a grunt or gasp, then her hands flew to her skull and grasped on tightly.

The Mandalorian could only understand to some extent what was happening, for his knowledge of Jedi and Sith were basic and fleeting, but if he could deduce the scene before him it had to be something related to mind control. What he could not fathom at that point was who was winning the battle. If it was a battle of the mind then a distraction should raise Móni’s chances, right?

He pressed a red button on one of the detonators in hand, lighting it bright red, and made a perfect throw at the beast’s shoulder. It exploded upon impact making it cry in pain along with Móni. Avin turned fast; she was clutching her shoulder as if she was the one who was hit. The damage the beast took wasn’t as severe as he expected, causing a gaping flesh wound and purple blood dripping down its leg, staining the water.

“So… distractions won’t help,” he explained to himself with a quiver in his tone. If Móni doesn’t win this mental battle, it was going to take a lot more than a few detonators to bring the beast down.

Móni screamed at a sudden flash of pain to her shoulder. For a moment she honed in onto herself but felt no traces of a wound or blood on her shoulder. Avin must have done something to the beast and she felt it in return she realized.

That’s not supposed to happen, I don’t think, she wondered to herself. This is turning out to be more complicated than I thought. But if she released herself from the creature’s mind, it may recover faster than her and leap onto either her or Avin in a heartbeat.

A cool hand touched the back of her neck and trickled down her spine.

No, Móni spoke to the being who touched her. I don’t need your help.

Her whole body was engulfed with cool water, but she felt neither wet nor cold. It was lighter than the vacuum of space and purer than any air she breathed.

She hated every second of it.

You are tangling yourself too closely to its mind

The voice of many and of one spoke without gender, without hate, without sorrow; it spoke with so much of something Móni could never understand.

Get away from me, she gritted—anger flaring across her body.

Listen to the poor creature. Understand him. Learn from him. Do not meld with him, or you shall lose yourself. Do not fight or you shall destroy his mind. You are two creatures who can hear and speak to us.

The anger. The frustration. The torment. The hatred. It’s soothing voice. It’s parental nature. It’s purifying essence were needles on her skin, fire in her throat, and explosions in her ears. Móni’s steady breaths escalated to fast puffs, her veins strained under her skin, and she felt her mouth scowl so severely she thought she could bite the invisible presence to death.

Móni, please. Everything we plan is for your own good.

Sunset eyes flashed brighter than the sun itself. From the small brevity when she released her mind from the creature, it recovered even faster than she anticipated and bounded for her faster than a speeder.

“Lies!” she bellowed. And in a mere instant, she connected herself with the creature and tore its brain apart.

It collapsed in the water, blood seeping out if its ears and nose from the eruption in its skull.

“Lies,” she whispered.

A wave of sorrow that was not her own left her body, the cold stillness gone and her own pumping blood giving her warmth again. It was gone. She hoped forever this time.

But that was wishful thinking.

As long as the Force exists, she will never be free of its grasp.

Chapter Text

The days turned into a week, then into two weeks. Avin did his best to keep up with Móni’s quick pace, but his exhaustion showed in his slumping shoulders and swollen eyes. He had removed his armor some days ago, slung over his back, only leaving on his left vambrace to activate traps and a map, and so he won’t explode. They traveled at dusk until dawn, keeping the nightly predators off their trail; specifically, the one who had been tracking them since Móni crushed its mate’s brain. No matter how early in the morning they broke down their camp to increase their distance, it was always close behind.

In the two weeks, Móni trained her senses to be acute and alert even while sleeping. It had gotten sensitive enough where she could see the vibrations in the Force from a brush of an animal’s tail on a stray leaf. When they had come dangerously close without water, she touched every fauna she came in contact with to feel any water running through their veins.

Avin assisted with engineering makeshift traps for food, and climbed trees to scout the area from above. His expertise in fortifying defenses helped ease their sleep by setting a system that triggered an alarm on his vambrace when something was within a one-mile radius of their camp. He would often leave larger snares behind in hopes the beast’s mate would fall into it. They were avoided every time. And not once did he unholster his blaster.

“Do you need to rest?”

The young Mandalorian set his armor down and leaned against the tree. “Is that alright?”

Unlike her companion, Móni’s breathing was steady. “What’s our range?”

“About...,” Avin checked his wrist panel. “Twenty miles.”

She would rather keep walking. Her and Avin calculated the beast’s rate of distance in a single night, and it could travel up to fifty miles with high stamina in half the time. But she could not push his limits.

“Sure.”

“Thank you.” He sunk to the dirt to put his head between his knees.

“Do you need more water?”

Avin shook his head.

“Food?”

Same response.

Móni exhaled through her nose. “Need help carrying the rest of your armor?”

“I can carry my own armor,” he snapped in a sluggish way.

Out of options to help his pace, she sat herself beside him. “Have I apologized, yet?”

“A thousand times. And a thousand times again: it’s not your fault. It was either this or they leave me stranded in space with a half dead ship and no food.”

“Considering the half dead ship now?”

He contemplated. “No.”

“We’ve got to keep moving.”

“I know!” His shoulders slumped. “I know.”

Thinking it best to leave Avin to his thoughts, Móni dusted the dirt from her bottom and practiced her leaps. She could jump far with strength (Avin marked her for thirty-eight feet), but fear tightened her will to use the Force to help lift her. Before every leap she took, she told herself the same thing: This time I’ll use it. Just a smidge. A smidge. And every time she would yield to her own worries. She’d have to go for another plan of attack. Above her hung a purple and yellow fruit by the end of its branch that was out of her jumping range.

She bent her knees and lifted off the ground, her middle finger inches away from touching it. Again. Again. Again. The same result every time.

New approach. Focusing. Before leaping she willed the omnipresent entity to surround her feet like a fog without humidity or temperature. Again.

Móni leaped with her strength mixed with the cushioned Force and her feet had never felt so weightless. She could have walked on air if she had the skill to maintain the putrid thing, but for now, the light shove was enough. She was at eye level with the fruit and she grasped it with both hands.

For a moment, her breath held in her chest. Release. Release. Release. Release. She shut her eyes tight to concentrate on her feet and released the Force.

She fell fast and hard on her back. “Agh!”

“Móni?” Avin was at her side looking over her body for injuries. “What in the galaxies happened?”

Laughter erupted from her and Avin was close to having a mental breakdown suspecting she cracked something in her skull.

His panic and fear were strong enough to sense without trying, so she placated his worries by placing the fruit in his hands.

“I did it,” she smiled.

“Did what?”

“Jumped,” she pointed at the fruitless branch.

“You reached that?”

There was a series of chuckles while she nodded.

“You didn’t hit your head too hard right?”

Móni checked the back of her head and her hand returned dry. “I’m good. You wanna try that then be on our way?”

Avin turned the fruit over in his hands and rubbed its smooth skin. “Why can’t you kill the beast and be done with it?”

“I don’t want to kill it.”

“Why not? You didn’t care about the life of its mate.”

Bulging, swollen eyes leaking blood stuck with Móni. In its final moments, it was horrified of leaving what it loved behind, and that love would stalk them until they died. She considered it a mercy to kill off the mate and let it live on through the Force without the suffering. But she had no right to decide its fate. Anger controlled her actions. Spite and ignorance killed the beast. And her vendetta with the Force was the leading factor. All of this would have been so much simpler if she never had to use it and fought with her bare hands like how she trained herself to do. She didn’t have to feel its life slip away from its carcass to blend into the cosmic being surrounding them. She didn’t have to feel anything for it if there was no Force involved.

“I don’t want to feel that pain again.”

“Pain of what?”

“Death.”

Avin did his best to understand what she meant, but he couldn’t fathom what was going through that peculiar head of hers. What he understood was its correlation with the training Lord Maul was putting her through. Force related if he recalled.

“Care to explain?”

Explain? Móni didn’t think she ever explained to anyone about anything Force related. She couldn’t with her mothers; being a child explaining something as complex as the Force was tough, no matter how hard they tried to interpret her explanations.

“Force-sensitive beings are susceptible to another’s emotions. Obviously, it’s natural for someone to have some sense of what the other is feeling, but through the Force it’s… like it becomes a part of you. And you can even will yourself to pinpoint the other’s emotions.”

“Almost like reading minds?” Avin was awed.

“No. We can’t read minds. We can come close, though. In fact,” Móni sat up. “I came close to reading the beast’s.”

“So, can you or can’t you? I’m confused.” Avin gave up on the conversation, fascination gone.

“Let’s set a trap for the beast.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“No. I mean. To lure it to me.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Did I say I wasn’t?”

“Okay,” Avin rubbed his temples. “You just said you didn’t want to kill it.”

“I don’t.”

“Right. What are we doing?”

“I’m going to try to communicate with it.”

“Of course. That makes perfect sense.”

“I’m the sarcastic one around here.”

“Is this a Force thing?”

“Gonna try to make it a Force thing.”

“And if it doesn’t work? You’ll die. Or I will if you do anything but move things with your mind.”

“It’s not really a mind thing per se…”

Avin held his hand up. “I don’t care. We’ll create more distance between us and the beast, then I’ll help set up a trail to lead it to you. I’ll even make some defenses in case things go south.”

“You’re an angel, Avin.”

“No. I’m tired.”

Móni patted his shoulder. “I know. It’s alright. Let’s get moving and I’ll cook something up with our new fruit.” As she spoke, Móni sauntered over to his makeshift bag made from a grappling line from his other vambrace. She slung it over her shoulder and continued ahead.

“We should probably be farming from the planet’s land instead of stealing supply ships,” Avin inspected the large and hefty, oval-shaped product. “No one knows how to farm, though. Maybe we should get some droids who do and… HEY.”

Móni picked up her pace.

“Give back my armor!”

“What?”

“Stop it!” Móni’s pace turned into a jog. “Móni!”

“What are you saying?”

Avin spewed a colorful array of words after her when he chased her down. When she laughed, his anger flared which only made her laugh harder.

When the sky was orange and purple, Avin and Móni enjoy a meal together. That evening Avin caught red meat, which Móni was ecstatic about. She prepped it on the stone slab she made on their first afternoon together and seasoned it with herbs she collected during their travels. In a stone bowl she made, after several failed attempts while using her “mind abilities”, she cooked the fruit into a sauce with a delectable aroma.

With a perfectly centered pink meat and the fruit sauce poured over it, the meal was the best he’s had in a long time.

“Your cooking is the only thing that makes this test bearable.”

“Your presence keeps me from being bored. I don’t think I can go three weeks without talking to anyone.”

“Shocking.”

“You’d rather I be as dull as you?”

“I’m not dull,” Avin raised his voice. “I’m realistic.”

“Realistically dull.”

“Then why do you always need to talk to me if I’m so dull?”

“Who else am I going to talk to? The dead thephia?” Móni raised a wooden utensil Avin sculpted with a piece of meat pierced through it. “You didn’t know today was the day you were going to die by the hands of a dull man but thank you for lending us your flesh to keep us alive. You are delicious and I’m not sorry.” She chewed the meat without remorse.

He refused. Avin refused to laugh, so he shoveled food into his mouth to keep his thoughts occupied.

“Don’t hork it down, you animal. Should have cooked you instead of the poor thephia.”

“I’d probably taste dull.”

“Not to worry. I’ve had experience cooking humans.”

Avin coughed from swallowing the food down the wrong way and laughing at the same time. When his throat and mouth were cleared, laughter erupted turning his cheeks red.

“You think this funny? One of these nights you’re gonna wake up with a missing leg.” Móni shrunk a bit, covering her mouth with some guilt, remembering Maul was listening in most likely. “Oops. Should I have said that out loud?” She cackled.

Avin covered his mouth to stifle his giggles. When he felt he had no more laughter to give, he finished his meal snickering a few times in between bites. He felt his strained cheeks and considered the last time he laughed that hard. He sucked in a deep breath and repressed the days of laughter, fun, and love. Not now. Can’t cry now.

“Your panel is lighting up,” Móni set down her finished wooden slab of food.

“What?” It was lit up red. He displayed a holomap of the area where he laid the trail they discussed earlier in the day. “Do you sense anything?”

“Why? What is it?”

“It’s… I think it’s the beast.”

Móni closed her eyes and felt the rustle of the leaves, the swaying of the grass, and the critters crawling through dirt and tree trunks. She dug her finger into the dirt, and it pulsated with life: roots stretching deeper into the earth, slumbering creatures deep in their burrows, and the faintest of steps treading across the land without breaking a branch or crunching a leaf.

“It changed its pattern. We gotta move.”

Avin took a chug of filtered water from his canister and stomped out the fire. He tossed his canister to Móni. “Let’s do this, then.”

Avin secured on his armor and helmet, then checked his vambrace’s panel. “Trap is ready with no weapons… as promised.”

“I’ll go ahead.” Móni punched him lightly on the shoulder. “See you soon.”

“Yeah.” He hoped it would be soon.

When Avin jetpacked to his post, Móni followed the path he laid out for her to take to their allotted spot. She avoided metal tripwire hidden beneath dirt to mark the beast’s proximity to her and stepped on her own footprints she and Avin made along the way to a rotund clearing with a high rock wall. There was no escape for the beast or her with a dead-end at her back, but Avin was on a ledge above, keeping watch and tracking the beast’s movements.

She sat cross-legged and waited.

Móni meditated on her surroundings, firstly Avin who was perched with his stomach to the ground to her right. He was checking and double-checking and triple-checking his wrist panel from the various taps of his finger on the screen. The wall’s shadow extended as the sun dipped behind them engulfing the planet’s side in darkness. Her legs absorbed the vibrations of every living creature skittering away from a monstrous being who sought revenge. It was following Avin’s trail as planned but stopped when it had sensed something amiss.

The air changed to a sweeping silence, stilling the trees and foliage, and Móni and Avin held their breaths when they gathered a shift in tactics from the beast.

A soft pat against the ground was the last thing Móni felt. The Force vibrated and stirred around her, its strength centered straight above her.

Móni jumped to her feet and went defensive. From the Force’s strongest location a great beast, twice the size of its mate with no antlers, emerged from the sky with open jaws and extended claws. She awed at its prowess, forgetting she needed to maneuver away from its clutches.

Mere seconds before it scathed a strand of hair she jumped to the side and rolled to a stop. It roared a haunting and painful bellow that shook the earth and made the wall’s loose rocks crumble and fall down its slope. Móni stumbled to a standing position from the overwhelming agony it exhumed. The pressure was so unreal a migraine begun to pulsate in all areas of her head. Her world swayed, but the ground did not shake. Then a high-pitched frequency rang in her ears that made her scream.

She sunk to the ground on her knees and tried to maintain focus otherwise the beast would tear her apart. When she covered her ears there was no difference in pitch, but her migraine pulsated on a higher-level bringing her to tears. That’s when she knew the beast was attacking her mind and nothing she was experiencing was real. Móni needed to regain control of herself and felt out the creature through the Force. But it was impossible. There was a mental barrier surrounding her. No. The beast cast a Force barrier around her to retain her abilities. If that’s all it was, Móni could push back.

She will push back.

It’s within me. Móni recalled the Force telling her. My own power.

A flash of awakening, she pooled a mass of energy within her core and willed it to explode around her, shattering the barrier and releasing herself from the frequencies.

The beast did not falter nor spared a second to pounce at her again.

With a shadow pulse echoing in her head from the massive migraine, she stumbled to the side a fraction too late. A claw scratched her arm leaving a deep gash.

Móni clucked her tongue at her own mistake and let the arm bleed out.

It licked its chops, pleased with the wound it inflicted on her, while it paced keeping its sharp blue eyes on Móni--rage spilling into her being.

Móni did not move but prepared herself with any more surprises from the beast. She put herself in the same defensive stand she would use in shockball match that could turn offensive or defensive on a whim. Her hands were prepped to catch a ball, but she twisted the subject in her head and made herself prepped to catch the Force.

A snarl was its only fair warning before it leaped left to right, left to right, with great speed to keep itself in motion and hard to hit. Then landed on its front paws to twist its body to whip its tail at Móni.

As intimidating and agile its movements were, Móni did break her stand and watched closely. When it landed in a strange way, she assumed its next move and countered the tail back with the Force, sending the beast spinning to the ground.

It recovered with an angered growl and charged straight at Móni, headfirst. Unprepared by its speed she took the headbutt to the stomach and slid back. Her feet dug into the ground and pushed a step forward, battling her strength against its own and feeling the smooth fangs and wet nose rub against her. When it tried to free its head, she grappled the beast’s luscious mane and threw it to its side. In the next moment, she Force pushed it to an unnatural placement of stones shaped in a circle.

“Avin!”

Four grappling lines shot out from the ground and tied down the beast’s legs. It attempted to jump and struggled ferociously out if its confines. When none of it worked it went for a line with its teeth but ended with no progress on the thin and durable cable not meant for its fangs to bite into.

Móni sucked in a deep breath and Force pushed her thoughts into the beast’s own. Its intelligence surpassed the last one she killed and its mental barriers much more stable. She wanted to break through, but she did not have the skill to do so without killing it. Instead, she expressed peace and calmness. It refused outright and surged rage and sorrow into her.

Móni did it again. And again. And again, until it finally relinquished its emotions, but retained a barrier.

Here we go. Time to communicate.

With intuition and past experiences with Maul prodding her mind and attacking the previous beast, she adjusted herself and allowed her thoughts to float across to the beast. Apologies. Grief. Regret. And even her naivety for allowing anger to kill its mate without reason.

The beast roared and stomped at her, then wailed at the memory of its loved one. Its surge for violence dropped significantly, but it remained alert and wary.

Móni took slow steps toward the beast and it growled when it felt she was close enough. The distance was not an issue for her to remove the cable. She tore the simple machinery from the ground that Avin constructed and ripped the cables apart with the Force. Both were defenseless and unchained. Neither made a move.

She sat cross-legged where she stood and touched its mind again.

This time, it was accepting.

A world blossomed in her mind’s eye and toured her across the planet at an age when there were sentient life forms living amongst beasts that looked exactly like the one before her. The ruins were erect and beautifully carved with designs and decorated with precious stones and colorful paint. The inhabitants were the most peculiar. They were all Force-sensitive beings. Every single one of them.

A paradise. Beings free to live with the Force in harmony.

There was a male with a decorative headdress and tribal tattoos. It’s white and gold clothing popped from his dark features. He stood before Móni looking up at her and found the line of sight strange.

He smiled up at her and gave out his hand. Móni dipped down to rub her head against his hand and purred from the touch.

“Mayishka.”

Móni was transported into a vortex and brought to a different time. The sky was dark, but not of natural causes. It was concealed by smog, and ships Móni did not recognize flew past. She ran at a speed that surpassed any land vehicle she had driven; past broken homes, dead bodies, and screaming children.

The bodies had peculiar wounds. They were all singed black.

She was taken to a temple with lifeless bodies of the beast’s species mixed with the inhabitants and…

Jedi? Sith?

Their robes were different, and the lightsabers were less refined than what she was used to seeing.

Inside the temple, blood soaked the walls. Lightsabers parts were strewn across the halls. Some deaths were results of a bloody bout with fists from the broken and swollen faces. Others had a head or appendages twisted in abnormal directions; the skin taught and pierced by broken bones.

She was in a throne room with the male from before. His headdress was gone, and blood was spewing from his gutted stomach. A pained wail rang loud in her ears as she leaped once to his side. She encircled the man with her body and laid with him until his final breaths.

Outside the temple battle still raged across the planet; Móni felt it through the beast’s past feelings. Thousands of smaller life forms were being taken off-planet and disappeared for good.

Children. They took all the children.

Who were they? When did this happen?

Again, Móni spiraled through a vortex of colors, memories rushing past, as she was led to another.

She was on an abandoned ship left by the planet’s invaders and the technology was outdated. Severely outdated, but intricate. It focused more on sensory movements rather than manual input. This technology was only used during…

The Old Republic. 

Móni explored the cockpit where there was nothing of interest, then to the individual quarters. Most had nothing but the bare minimum necessities until she reached one that must have belonged to someone of importance. There were no bunk beds and it was larger than the rest. In fact, there was no bed at all except for a pillow. She sniffed the area and was intrigued by something in the wall. With her snout, she pressed a button for a drawer to pop out with a singular journal. The creature, Mayishka, had no interest in it, but Móni certainly did.

How can I read it? I’m in a memory.

There was a gentle push from behind and Móni fell to the floor. It was cold. It smelled musty. She felt anxiety and horror from the room; especially from the singular object placed in its center: the cushion.

When she turned there was Mayishka. Younger. Her coat had a lovely gleam and the colors of her fur and eyes were brighter. She bowed her head at Móni for her to continue.

Her heart drummed in her ears, the only noise in the empty room. When she touched the journal, her instinct was to throw it and never look back. Her hands trembled when she peeled back the leather cover.

Property of Q’Varit. Protector of the Force.

It was written by hand in a very coarse version of Aurebesh. Whispers of many and of one filled her thoughts. When she turned the stiff yellow page, she understood every word.

1^st Rotation 498 OR

My brothers and sisters found me when there was no one. They sensed something special in me and took me to their temple. They taught me how to use abilities I was shunned for. Peace. Harmony. Serenity. I was taught this code that was passed down by the Prime Jedi. However, I was brought during a time of discourse and disorder among the Jedi. There was a Hundred-Year Darkness led by a rogue who felt emotions were not a sin, but a blessing. That we shouldn’t be punished for using them.

It ended long before I became a Jedi, and I backed the ones who saved me. But his teachings struck something in me.

2 Weeks, 2^nd Rotation 498 OR

I was banned from using the library. They didn’t like the material I was researching or the questions I would ask during training. Master has forbidden me from leaving my quarters and to meditate on my actions for one month. It’s all a little extreme to question what it meant to love. We came from a mother who loved us. And they loved someone to have us.

Everyone is on edge about Jedi teetering into Sith traits to avoid the rogue Jedi incident. From what I read about the Order during the Prime Jedi’s time, things were more lax, new, and refreshing. The Force was a part of us and us a part of it. I wonder how the Prime Jedi’s vision for the Order looked like in his future. Did he mean for us to be unsentimental beings who can’t relate to those we swore to protect?

One month until I can write my thoughts down again. I will meditate on my actions as Master instructed, then I will consider what I was able to read on the Prime Jedi and the Hundred-Year Darkness.

1 Month, 2 Weeks, 2^nd Rotation 498 OR

I have meditated. Reflected. Considered. And discovered. The Sith want free reign of their emotions. The Jedi want control. Why must we choose? Can we not live as simple beings with control of our abilities? Why must the Jedi control our emotions as well?

Master is not going to like my new ideas. If I try to hide it from him, he would still be able to sense something amiss.

For now, I will stay quiet and behave so I may have access to the library again.

5 Months, 5 Weeks, 4^th Rotation 498 OR

A letter. I found a letter in an old text titled: “The Path Without Hate”.

It outlined what could lead someone down the path of hate. Among its many theories, love was one of them because it was a form of attachment. Motherly, sibling, friendship, or romantic, it all connected to the path of hatred. I never knew my mother or father. My earliest memory was searching for scraps in a trash bin with another child my age. They were left for dead while I was taken into their haven.

The Jedi did not help them.

The letter. I felt something familiar when I held it. Powerful. And sinister.

I believe it was written by the rogue Jedi.

Móni removed herself from the Jedi's past and sensed the powerful and sinister feelings in the back cover. At first glance, there was nothing there, but there were stitches hemmed along the inner edge and she pulled the string, unraveling it to open a pocket. She touched the brown and yellow letter and there was more than power in its pages. There was agony, sorrow, and pain. Móni choked back a sob, but the tears ran down on their own accord. The rogue Jedi felt so much. An emotional being who was Force-sensitive was a dangerous combination. Or was it? The inhabitants of the planet weren’t bound by any Jedi or Sith code. They wore their emotions on their sleeves and loved the Force.

Mayishka butted her head against Móni’s elbow and purred.

“I’m alright. Overwhelmed. I’m very overwhelmed. Ready?”

The beast nodded and sat patiently. Slowly she opened it and was kicked in the gut with hatred and violence put into every word, every curve, every ink splatter across the paper.

It was hard to read. Not for lack of understanding, but the malice was gruesome and sickening; it made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t finish reading it. What she interpreted was enough to understand how his betrayal began. Or the Jedi’s.

The Jedi killed his loved one. For years he thought her death was an accident. Done by the will of the Force to make him stronger in faith and character. He persevered after her death. Her memories living on within him. But when he discovered the Jedi’s ploy to rid of her so he could return to the path of their code, he lost sight of who and what his purpose was. In his madness, he drew power from the dark side of the Force and felt its potential. It was like a drug to him. He would have rather suffered a thousand years of hatred than live with the fact the love of his life was murdered by those he trusted most.

They didn’t want him to leave the Order because he was a prodigy with latent abilities with the Force. They were obsessed with the new knowledge he could have given them.

And he did give them new knowledge. The irony.

Móni was glad to tuck the letter back in its slot to continue the journal. She skipped past a few pages where he stopped explaining his theories and obsession with the rogue Jedi.

2 Years, 5^th Week, 5^th Rotation 500 OR

The Masters have yet to sense anything amiss with my dabbling with the dark side of the Force and titled me Jedi Master. They’re too preoccupied with getting rid of the Sith altogether and can barely function within their own temple.

They did develop an interesting organic mechanism called a kyber memory crystal to track Force-sensitive children. The ever so peaceful Jedi would like to amass an army against the Sith by taking away children from their mothers.

The hypocrisy.

We’ve discovered a powerful reading on an undiscovered planet in the Outer Rim and I was selected for the mission.

2 Years, 2^nd Month, 3^rd Rotation 500 OR

Master has his eyes on me.

He senses something amiss.

When we landed none of us expected to be greeted by a planet of beings who are all Force-sensitive. It was a well of power and potential. Even the Jedi were thrilled with excitement.

When we learned to communicate with one another, they laughed at our ways. They actually regarded the Sith path to be more realistic.

In a meeting, the Jedi feared the Sith would have control of the “poor” natives and sought to protect them as was their duty. They taught and taught and taught to persuade their ways superior to theirs. Eventually, they wished for us to leave.

The Jedi were not pleased by the response and opted to create a temple here to be in proximity with the natives in case the Sith come and turn them to the dark side.

They’re scared. Not becoming of a Jedi.

Then I offered to only take the children and push aside those who resisted. They’re only primitives with mediocre Force abilities. What could possibly go wrong?

The writing turned manic and barely readable. Móni squinted to make out what she could.

2 Years, 6^th Month, 4^th Rotation 500 OR

I slaughtered them. It was exhilarating. All the pent-up emotions from living in the temple had finally been released.

First, I killed a Jedi who was forcing a woman to teach him how she was able to communicate with animals. Then I killed a native who told me I needed to level my hatred with rational thoughts. Then I killed a family who resisted me when I took their children.

All in one night.

And no one knows who is to blame.

Móni closed it on the final entry and tossed it back on the drawer. Shivers went up her spine when a sigh exhaled behind her.

She whipped her head around and screamed.

Q’Varit stood with yellow eyes stained red.

“Durmónia.” He purred. He moved his neck and the bones cracked with an unnatural sound. “Come. Join me. I’ll show you what must be done to achieve everlasting freedom.”

Móni’s back was pressed so far to the wall in hopes she could sink into it and disappear. The man wasn’t a Sith. What she felt from him was nothing she’s ever felt from anyone. It was madness. Obsession. He wasn’t right. She shook her head at him.

“Get me out,” she groaned. “Mayishka, get me out.”

He grinned in an inhuman way. It was beastly. Otherworldly. It stretched too wide almost reaching his eyes and his eyes were too large for a human.

“Mayishka…”

She was gone. Gone.

Q’Varit hovered above ground and laughed. The sound was indescribable. Nightmarish, cruel, and malicious. He made his way to her and she screamed.

She screamed until her throat could not scream anymore. Everything shattered around her. The memories. The world. The galaxy. The universe.

Then nothing. She was floating in nothing. An empty space. But she heard quiet whimpers and followed it. Huddled in a large ball of fur was Mayishka. That’s right. After so many years, she never knew the reason for her family’s slaughter. And now she did.

Móni placed a hand on her back. “I’m sorry.”

The beast pressed her snout to Móni’s head.

Móni. Wake up.

She opened her eyes. The sun was bright and the trees were familiar. When she untangled her legs there was a searing pain in her joints. “Ugh! What in the name of-“

“Móni?” Avin stared with shock and belief mixed in his features. “Móni!” He slid to her side and embraced her. “You’re okay.”

“Of course. I’m okay,” her attention strayed to Mayishka who was lifeless on the ground.

“Mayishka?”

“Who?”

Móni tried to stand but her legs were still in the process of waking up. She dragged her body across the ground and placed a hand on the soft fur of her neck. No life ran through her.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. She sobbed into her mane until there were no more tears left to give.

Chapter Text

At nightfall a pyre was created for Mayishka’s body. Her ashes turned to ember and drifted to the stars, free from the mortal realm and one with the entity she had lived alongside with for a millennium. Avin paid his respects beside Móni, concern tainted his exhausted features. Laughter left her bright eyes and her shoulders slumped without confidence. There was a perpetual feeling of doom looming over her and her silence made him anxious.

In the morning, I’ll have to find a way to speak to her.

“Móni?”

Not a twitch for a response.

“Móni, let’s rest for the night.”

Her body moved mechanically to their camp. She laid on the giant leaf Avin had prepared earlier and faced her back to him.

We’ll try the morning.

When Avin awoke, Móni was on her back, her attention to the sky. Usually the first to wake and prepare a meal for the two of them, she did not move. The Mandalorian took it upon himself to scrounge what they had in their packs and threw together something unknown. It tasted fine, only it wasn’t mixed to blended perfection the way she did it.

The slab of food by her side was untouched.

“It’s not your quality of food, but you need to eat.”

Nothing.

“I know. It’s not cooked or minced or magically prepared. No need to be rude about it.”

She wasn’t ignoring him, he knew. Móni was far away with whatever she experienced with the beast. Or Mayishka, he discovered it had a name.

“Please, Móni. You haven’t eaten in three days.”

She blinked. Then turned her head.

Avin’s stomach sunk with trepidation and the blood left his face. She was totally without emotion.

“What did you say?” Her voice was but a wisp of wind through her chapped lips.

“You need to eat.”

She shook her head.

“You haven’t eaten in three days?”

Her brows knitted together.

“You didn’t realize?”

Móni returned to the sky searching for something in the moving clouds.

“Were you in contact with Mayishka the whole time?”

She nodded.

Avin licked his lips and pulled on a hanging string from his overworn top to distract himself. “Móni. The bea--I mean--Mayishka. She was dead for two of them.”

There was a gasp. Confusion brought her brows together. Acceptance eased them. Then sorrow pulled the corners of her lips down to an ugly sob. She hid her face beneath her arm and released everything she had been withholding. As powerful as her cries were, Avin was relieved to see her liberate herself some more. There may be a good few nights of crying before she could speak.

Later in the day she ate the miserable meal, but she was eating. Avin redressed her healing wound on the right arm which was treated by injecting a stimpack to the affected area on the first day she became comatose. The skin was mending itself closed, but the outer area was still a bit red. She was going to need to see a medical droid or she’ll be getting a scar. Thankfully, the week was ending, so they could finally return to the confines of their hideout. The woman needed a safe and comforting space, but Avin was at a loss on how to provide that for her in a jungle. First step, they needed to leave the area where she battled and connected with Mayishka.

There were several attempts to get Móni off her rump, but she complied and turned away from the burnt pyre with a tear streaming down her dusty cheek. Without anything pursuing them they sauntered through the wildlife without direction or a goal. He knew Móni needed to move and keep her mind occupied on something other than Mayishka.

The following day Avin awoke to Móni’s stifled cries. He repeated the process of the previous day: prepped a poor meal, forced her to eat, redressed her wound, then talked her into getting up. She needed to keep moving.

After several hours of walking there was a rustle in a clump of tall blades of grass and flowers with white heads the size of his fingernail. Móni didn’t seem alarmed by the interruption, but Avin was wary. He aimed his right vambrace with a flamethrower installed into it when three round heads peeked through the blades with large black eyes. Their small pink noses wiggled and their massive ears turned left to right. When they spotted Móni, who did not give them a glance, their lithe bodies erupted from hiding and ran in circles at her feet. They trilled, stood on their back legs, and brushed their furry fat tails against her for any sort of attention. When she regarded their presence, their trills rose to a higher pitch of excitement. One ran up her body to perch itself on her shoulder.

“You made some cute friends,” Avin commented with mild confusion.

“Cuter than you.”

Avin dropped his armor and closed the distance between them. He grasped her shoulders. “Are you here?”

“I’m here.”

“How are you?”

“Recovering.” She scratched the critter’s head and it purred with delight. “They eased the fog away.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This planet has Force sensitive creatures. But they have a far greater connection to it than any Jedi or Sith.”

“Was Mayishka one?”

Melancholy pulled her down, but she did not succumb to it. “Yes. The most powerful, wisest, and oldest of them all.”

“And the mate?”

Móni shook her head. “Grandson, I think. They were the last of their kind.” Her eyes watered and the tears fell again. She wiped at them, but they would not stop flowing.

The critters’ symphonic trills had a comforting tone Avin was able to discern. The one on her shoulder trilled once then licked her cheek with a small blue tongue.

“I killed them.”

“It was us or him,” Avin set down the facts; her voice of reason. “Mayishka’s grandchild may have seen us as a threat and attacked to kill. Clearly she forgave you.”

“Yes. She was very kind. And sad.”

“I’m surprised we hadn’t run into them. We’ve gone scouting a few times for food or to map the area.”

“They were threatened by me being Force-sensitive. It triggered something from their past. You think Maul knew about them?”

“It’s hard to say. We hardly see him and he’s usually off-world.” A recollection generated, “I think he was the one who discovered D’Qar.”

Móni hummed in interest, but the conversation was cut by the critters who bit the ends of her pants and tugged at them. “They want to show me something.”

Avin shrugged. “Then let’s go. They seem harmless enough.”

They trilled with excitement and led the way.

After two hours of hiking through twisting tree branches, tall grass, and high shrubs Avin displayed a hologram of a three-dimensional map from his panel. A blinking red dot that signified his location was leaving the most updated data of the land’s survey and entering a flat and empty void. “We’re entering an undiscovered area,” he relayed to Móni.

“Don’t plot it.”

His finger was a centimeter away from activating his scanners. “Why not?”

“It may be a haven to these creatures.”

“It’s inevitable at this point. I’m being tracked as well.” Avin quirked a brow and sat on a large root. “I can stay here. I’m not leaving my armor behind.”

“What about...?”

Avin handed her his right vambrace with the flamethrower. “In case you do anything you shouldn’t be doing. I also removed the tracking device in it. There should have been just the one in there.”

Móni slipped it onto her forearm and Avin adjusted it a few sizes smaller for her. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Add it to the list of things you owe me for.”

“You owe me for making me eat awful food.”

“And you for making me cook it.”

“That was the problem. It was never cooked!”

“Were you aware of anything else besides what you ate?”

“No, just that.”

Avin scoffed and waved a lazy arm at her. “Whatever. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Mmmm.”

“If it can be digested then it passes in my books.”

“I’m making you a proper meal when we get back. How’s about that?”

“Looking forward to it.”

Móni smirked and tapped his sweaty red cheek twice. “That’s a good pretty boy.”

He flailed his arms at her, “Get out of here, already!”

With a cackle she disappeared into the brush with the three critters.

“Weirdo.”

The undergrowth became wilder the further they went, making it difficult to find a flat surface for proper footing, and the trees were dense to the point where even her form had difficulties slipping through. The critters, however, jumped to and from the trees with ease and at a pace that was hard to keep up with. She would have to do the same if it meant not setting them back on time. Or her time.

On instinct she put her hand to a tree ready to climb, but when she lifted a leg, Avin’s vambrace surged red.

“Bantha whore.” With her hands to her hips she had come to peace with her only resolve. “I’m going to have to jump.”

She only needed to use the Force once to get on the tree, afterwards, if she pushed off with the right momentum, then tree jumping could be done with physical prowess alone. With a clap of her hands and shaking her body loose to pump herself, she jumped and held onto that same weightlessness when she took the fruit from its branch. Like standing on a ball of air she pushed off and released its hold on her so she could land right in the V-neck of the bark and branch. A leg missed its footing when she was ready to surge after the next tree and fell to the ground back first.

The critters trilled with humor, running up and down the trees as if they were mocking her.

“Yeah. So, funny.” She patted the dirt off her clothes. “Not so cute after all, huh?”

They ignored her and continued trilling after her.

“One more time.”

Móni repeated the process, airlifting her off the ground; this time she raised her leg in preparation for the kickoff. When she released the Force’s hold, her foot made full contact and she pushed off.

Again. Again. And again. She was jumping from tree to tree without anything hindering her thoughts. Everything was focused on landing on the right groove, hump, or weight of a branch to push her off. Soon, the motions became instinctual and the activity filled her with gratification. The critters trilled their support alongside her as she kept in pace with them.

Without warning, Móni was transported to an open field in an instant. The dense jungle surrounded the extensive flat land overgrown with lush flowers of all sizes and shapes. Their heads faced the sun, absorbing its warmth into their bright petals.

The critters frolicked through the garden, taking her through it. Upon closer inspection at the florals’ bases, the land wasn’t quite as flat as she thought. There were subtle mounds and a great amount of them. Móni observed the rest of the field and saw the whole plot of land was filled with them by rows and columns.

At the edge of the field was no flower, but a massive tree with a beautifully twisted trunk and branches that grew bright orange leaves and clumps of soft blue flowers. The critters sat silently on its roots, their tails flicking from side to side as they awaited Móni.

There was an abundance of life flowing from the tree; much more strongly than any plant life she had crossed during her training. She placed her hand on the rough bark and pushed her consciousness into it. The connection happened so fast she had no time to sense a presence—a lifeform’s presence.

It felt familiar. Like something out of a dream.

Durmónia

The voice. It belonged to the native with the headdress from Mayishka’s past.

Thank you for returning our sister to the Force.

Are you... alive?

Yes. And no. As was the custom in our culture when there was death; we were to be returned to the earth so we may live on as another form of life and serve the Force.

But Mayishka!

Yes, I know. What you did for her was what I would have done. I wouldn’t want her life to be tethered to D’Qar for eternity. She deserved freedom for all the loneliness and pain she endured. This way, she will exist with freedom amongst the stars.

And her grandchild?

Buried among his brothers and sisters. Mayishka’s doing.

Then... all these mounds are?

My people. Mayishka and what remained of her family a millennium ago buried us after the great purge.

I’m so sorry. If only I had control. If only I wasn’t so angry. They would still be alive.

It was the will of the Force. And it led you to me.

Why? Móni growled with anger.

You resent the Force?

Yes.

Because you believe it is using you.

I don’t “believe” that it is. It is. I don’t care about its plans for me. I didn’t need to kill them.

Durmónia. Your existence was determined the moment the Prime Jedi constructed the first temple.

I don’t understand. What about the Chosen One the Force is so bent on protecting?

The Chosen One is the key to everything. And you are its door.  But you must stop resisting the Force. It appears there’s only so much control it has over you. It cannot determine your future, only guide you.

That’s good to hear. Doesn’t make it any less of a pain in the neck.

You have more control than you realize, child. And the zabrak was a dangerous choice to assist with your control.

Choice? Móni blew a mocking lip trill. What choice? The Force pushed Maul onto me.

The Force offered you a choice in the shaft on the Abolition. You chose him and he you.

When?

Betts pulled Móni up a shaft in hopes to get away from Maul in time, but Betts got stuck giving him the advantage to reach her in time. They were face to face. She was in awe by his movements and speed, like a shadow moving across the wall, while he prepared to cut her down. She was ready to take the blow—Kyp and Zione had their money, there was no more use for her. But resolve settled in his eyes and he made his choice.

The Force forced his hand down. There was no way someone like him would have let me go. He was excited to kill me!

He didn’t have to abide by the Force. And you could have killed him in turn. You know you had the power to. But when he offered you purpose, you took it.

I’m being verbally attacked by a dead man. Was this all you wanted to tell me?

Your future could have been very different and simple. But you chose the unexpected one.

What does this mean for me?

What does this mean for the galaxy and the Force, you mean. The only advice I can offer is to check your feelings and not let it be the drive for your choices.

What feelings?

You will know soon enough.

What is with this cryptic poodoo? What feelings?!

Goodbye, Durmónia. It was a pleasure to meet you at last. May the Force be with you.

Ugh.

Móni was pulled back to the present. The sun was nearly gone and the animals were quiet. The critters who led her to the native’s leader were curled up together in slumber. She placed a gentle hand on each of their heads, thanking them quietly. As she made her way back to the jungle her fingers touched the petals and leaves of the massive garden and felt a presence in each of them. They sighed from the touch and the winds rustled their bodies with joy.

What a beautiful and peaceful life to live.

Móni found Avin on the ground snoring lightly on his helmet. When she shook him awake his arm slid off and smacked his head against his knee.

“Wha?”

“Ready to eat?”

“Yup,” he said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and the drool off his chin.

Evening turned to the morning, their last day in the wild. They spent it lounging by a river talking amongst themselves. Avin shared with Móni what he knew of Maul and how he first came in contact with them when they were called Death Watch. From when they saved him and his brother from deep space to the murder of Duchess Satine of Mandalore. It wasn’t the death of the Duchess that tore Death Watch, he had explained, but his assuming control of the planet as his own.

“And after we saved him from the Separatist prison, we never left his side. Satine’s sister sought to overrule him, but it meant nothing to Maul.”

“What do you mean?”

“Around the time the Clone Wars came to an end, Maul was having visions and was… scared of something we didn’t really understand. He knew what was going to happen and was right about everything: the galaxy was remade.”

Móni had an inkling of what Maul was so fearful of, the shadow that plagued her life and made her equally afraid. Some part of her considered him brave to have the audacity to stand up against the Empire, but she may be completely wrong on that notion. Something else drove him and it could be the fear itself.

Avin continued, “Now he has set his sights to the underworld and building a crime syndicate empire that rivals the Empire.”

“Did he ever get the chance to kill Obi-Wan?”

“No,” he said with astonishment. “Hasn’t spoken about him either. Everything is about the Emperor and his Supreme Commander.”

The Chosen One. Móni internally groaned. Everything was always about him.

“How’s the crime thing going?” she veered topics to not have to think about having to face Palpatine’s apprentice if she were to continue down Maul’s path. “If we’ve heard about you on the Abolition, then you’ve pretty much made it big time.”

“It’s tiring, but the calm days are nice. It’s not so bad when your leader is competent and can hold their own without needing a bunch of goons at their side.”

“So, you respect him but hate him. And you approve of his goals. Sounds complicated.”

“Yeah,” Avin sighed. He poked the firewood with a stick lost in thought. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

“I’ve always loved doing it. My first job was in the kitchens in some backwater restaurant on Coruscant. The chef discovered my skills and let me cook what I wanted for the customers. Moved up from there.”

“How’d you end up on the Abolition?”

“You know how wars change things. Coruscant wasn’t what it was anymore, so I left and tried the criminal route.”

“That’s an extreme change of pace. Why not continue your profession on another planet?”

Móni smirked. “The reason was somewhat similar to yours joining Maul.”

Avin chuckled. “Men sure are stupid, huh?”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

The two laughed with sorrow ebbed into the humor of it. When the sun was gone and the night grew cold, they slept their final night around the fire on a leaf matt.

Avin and Móni were each awoken by a foot tapping their sides. Staring down at them were two Mandalorians Móni didn’t recognize, and not just because of their similar helmets.

Avin took the hand of one by his side and they patted each other’s shoulders as a fellow greeting. The other one, however, was intensely staring at her and offered no help like his companion.

“I can get up by myself. Thanks for offering,” she said as she stood up on her own. Through the visor, she could still feel the stare and it didn’t make her uncomfortable, per se. But she sensed something off. His emotions were almost... flat.

“New girl,” Avin’s friend called. “Don’t mind him. He’s just a bit strange in the head.”

Móni analyzed the red paint and horns that adorned his armor, and marked his affiliation to his Lord.

“I’m Móni.”

“My name is Baelis Ionzil. I serve as a slicer for my company and Lord Maul. You didn’t provide a clan or family name.”

“I don’t have one.”

Baelis kept his gaze, not satisfied with her response Móni felt.

“C’mon, Baelis. We gotta get them back to the compound. I bet you’re dying for a shower.”

“I’ve never dreamt of hot water before until these past three weeks.” Avin lifted his net of armor and fast walked his way to the speeder bikes.

“You driving or I am?” Móni asked Baelis who hadn’t ceased his stare.

He took the driver’s seat without a word.

-

In a blue hologram display was Móni speaking to Baelis before they sped off on the speeder to the compound. It was shut off when there was nothing more worth showing.

Maul exhaled a deep sigh within the darkness without the light illuminating his quarters any longer. What happened on the surface was nothing compared to what transpired in the woman’s mind. She had finally made a connection with the Force, but it was still broken and unbalanced. Her abilities teetered between light and dark. Her emotions were extreme and lacked control, which reflected on her mistakes when she would use the Force.

But there was so much latent power. The only way Maul could describe her was a physical representation of the Force. She didn’t use it, she manifested it from within herself. Even the planet was drawn to her. She didn’t notice how the leaves and blades of grass bent towards her as she walked past, or how the school of fish she caught in the river was attracted to her presence. Creatures of the Force appeared before her, ones he sensed but never seen.

Imagine what she could accomplish if she sided with the dark side of the Force. She was inflicted with fear, anger, and suffering, all he had to do was cultivate those feelings to design his greatest weapon.

There was still much to be discussed about those three days of silence with the Mandalorian nursing her while she was comatose. Her connection with the beast returned her to how she was when he first brought her to D’Qar: self-inflicting pain and hate, and immense sorrow. Confusion and anger were replaced after she connected with the colossal tree and was subduing said emotions as she made her way to him now.

He awaited her arrival outside the compound’s entrance, sensing her presence edge nearer to him. When they arrived, she locked her gaze onto his with questions burning through them.

The Mandalorians were the first to greet him with a ‘Lord Maul’ and a bow of their heads as was customary of them to do. He didn’t need their formalities nor cared; his focus was solely on his apprentice who straggled behind them with weariness set in her features.

She stopped before him with her a hand on her hip. “Did I pass your little test?”

Sarcasm. Her abilities have changed, it was too bad her personality couldn’t change along with it. “You were... adequate.”

The apprentice popped an eyebrow and jolted back from his review. “Wow. Alright.”

“There is much that needs to be discussed. Wash and return to me here.”

“Can I at least eat something first?”

“No.”

“Alright,” she held up her hands in ‘defeat’. The apprentice was intentionally lying and wasn’t trying hard to hide it.

“Fifteen minutes or I will forbid you another meal this evening.”

“Okay! Okay. I’m going, Master,” she mocked.

When she entered the base Maul released the snarl he held in for much too long. His surveillance of her abilities wasn’t the only thing he paid close attention to, he took note of her interests and quirks in her personality to finally be able to beat the woman at her own game of jeers. Food was the top contender—she would say yes to anything if it was involved.

Simple-minded human. That was all she was. He only needed to keep reminding himself that.

Chapter Text

Fifteen minutes: Móni took a steaming hot shower, put on a fresh set of clothes she found in the female lockers, and stopped by the kitchen to pick up some grub on the go.

When she returned to the outdoors Maul stood in the exact position from when she left him.

She chewed her piece of unleavened bread loudly beside him. “I missed eating carbs.”

His head turned slowly in her direction without uttering a word, but his rage was intense enough for her to feel without even trying to sense it. Móni stuffed the rest of the bread in her mouth to keep from laughing and covered her mouth from the breaking smile.

In fuming silence, he made his way to the speeder bikes the Mandalorians left earlier. Without waiting for her to board her own, he started it up and sped away. As petty his actions were, it gave Móni time to laugh everything out (nearly choking on herself) before catching up with him.

It did not take long for Móni to sense his location, even if he was miles ahead of her. She applied her newly and finely tuned senses from the past three weeks and felt his presence out. The direction was familiar and felt like a lifetime ago when she walked through those parts. When she exited the forest to a riverbed it struck her hard in the face where she was.

They were where she killed Mayishka’s grandson.

Maul sat in his speeder with his arms folded across his chest. “Do you know what you did wrong?”

“Killed an innocent creature out of ignorance,” Móni bit back harder than what was intended.

“Its life makes no difference to me.”

“Of course, it doesn’t.”

“Your lack of control does.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of being a Sith? Being angry and tearing things apart?”

Maul bared his teeth at her. “It is more than that, apprentice. You allow your hatred reign over you. It is a tool, not your master.”

His words struck her. She listened and absorbed them, understanding the importance of his guidance. The methods of Sith or Jedi mattered little to her, but every mistake she made in the past when it came to using the Force could be mended in the future from now on with just this tiny bit of advice she lacked. A piece of a puzzle was fitting into place and Maul was directing it.

Móni didn’t know what to expect from the zabrak when she followed him off the Abolition. Torture? Submission? How did the Sith train their apprentices? Was it always so simple?

He was truly teaching her.

“Then,” she licked her lips, astounded at herself to be reciprocating a response with a genuine question. “I am the master?”

The Sith was silent for a moment. Móni had the strangest feeling it had nothing to do with her, but of the question itself. He stared at nothing reliving a memory behind his tainted eyes.

“Only you can be the master of your own emotions, but never forget that I am master of your very existence. Your actions reflect my own and your goals align with mine.”

“Right.” More Sith jargon...

Clearly done with the conversation, Maul started his speeder and gained a head start with Móni following close behind.

Their next destination stopped Móni’s pulse when she recognized the high cliff and burnt pyre. And the blade couldn’t have been twisted any deeper when Maul stopped at the placed arrangement of stones where Mayishka was held down by Avin’s trap.

“What did you communicate with the beast?”

“What I told Avin.”

Maul glowered at her and from his chest growled in a foreboding tone. “Don’t lie to me.”

For a moment her blood depleted to her feet at him using the Force. She sensed it around his hand, ready to command it against her. But it was gone before she had the time to react. She allowed the fear to settle, but her annoyance of him ready to attack her because of some mild defiance made her want to defy him further.

“How did you find this planet?”

The Force swelled around him, ready to be of use to him. “If you answer me first then maybe I’ll tell you.”

Maybe wasn’t good enough. He would have to settle for a good enough answer. “She showed me this planet’s past.”

“Is that all?”

“Answer me first and maybe I’ll tell you.”

That was enough to strike a nerve in him. His hand strained along with the Force closing in around her neck. “Don’t test me, apprentice.”

“Go ahead and kill me. You didn’t in the Abolition. You won’t do it now.”

He was off his speeder with his hand gripped tightly to her jaw before she could blink. His eyes were so bright they burned hers, but she could not look away from the rage pooling behind them. “Would you prefer I suffocate you slowly and sear your skin with my lightsaber? Or should I enter your thoughts and unlock what you’ve kept hidden all these years?”

Maul wasn’t giving her options; he had already chosen his method of submission.

She could feel the bruises forming under his fingers when he tightened his grip over her jaw’s movement. “What are you talking about?”

“There are shadows in your mind you have no memory of. It would do me great pleasure to see what they are and perhaps find something to help me get to the bottom of your insolence,” he seethed.

Móni didn’t understand what he meant, but he found something when he peered into her mind those weeks ago. She had no recollection of any memories he was referring to, but the concept of retrieving them caused the blood from her head rush down to her toes, and nausea settled in her stomach.

Satisfied with her expression, Maul released her with a shove. “Now tell me. What did you see?”

She worked her jaw a moment before submitting to his will. “Mayishka showed me who the natives of this planet were. They were all Force-sensitive beings, including the animals and plants, and they lived in harmony. They used the Force without constrictions like the Jedi or Sith do. It was very… free.” Móni swallowed and continued. “Then she showed me how they perished.”

“The tree. You connected with it?”

“Yes. I spoke with the native’s leader. When they are buried, they live on through the earth as plants rather than being burned to have their ashes be returned to the Force.”

“Take me to this leader.”

A deep and dark intent made the hairs on her arms stand. “Why?”

“Do as I say.”

“How did you find this planet?”

If she could hear someone’s patience snap, she might have with Maul. There was an electrifying touch in the Force and his arm rose to choke, but Móni was given ample time to react from the anger giving his intent away. She pulled his arm down then Forced pushed him back several feet.

“Didn’t you say that as your apprentice my goals need to align with yours? Well, how can I when I don’t even know what they are, Master? What do you want with the leader and how did you find this planet?”

Maul extracted his lightsaber and brought its glowing red tip under her chin; the heat just barely scorched her skin. “You make a fair point, apprentice, but it does not forgive your disrespect.”

“I may respect you more if you dial back the lies and manipulation a bit. Honesty and communication are key to any successful relationship.” She spoke like someone talking down to a child.

It did not help appease Maul’s anger and only aggravated him more. “I should kill you right now and spare myself the headache.”

“I’m better off dead than alive. You’ll be doing the galaxy a favor.”

The red saber retracted to its emitter. “Are you aware of your capabilities?”

Móni considered it for a moment. “Compared to what?”

“A civilian. A Jedi.”

“I know my strength isn’t that of an average human.” She mulled over her sensitivity to the Force. “I know how I use the Force isn’t normal or conventional in Sith or Jedi standards.”

“You see yourself as a threat.”

“Yes.”

“And you are one.”

“Thanks for rubbing it in…”

“It is time to accept what you are: dangerous, powerful, angry, and depressed. Fear of yourself holds you back but exhibiting your embodiment of fear will make you stronger, then nothing will stand in your way.”

Móni blinked. She pondered, reflected, and considered the truth of his teachings. She never accepted who she was, because it meant accepting the Force’s will. But what if she accepted ‘her’? Durmónia. She was all Maul said and more--she only needed to prove to herself that.

“That’s the second time you blew my mind today. But I’m still not taking you to that tree. It’s a sacred burial ground and I don’t want anything happening to it. If you earn my trust, then sure.”

Maul released a deep and threatening growl, but Móni ignored it when she recalled the final vision she had with Mayishka.

Q’Var.

She regarded Maul and his anger sizzled when he sensed a shift in her emotions. “I think… There’s something I need to show you. I may be able to take you if it’s still there.”

“What?”

“A ship. An old ship.”

Móni’s connection with Mayishka left imprints of her life in her mind. It took an immense amount of effort to search them, but faded images of memories would appear if she focused on something certain. The ship for example. She knew Mayishka was physically there, therefore, she only needed to recall those images.

She took her and Maul to a grassy hill about the height of a ship. When she pressed her hand to it she felt hollowed silence within rather than life.

“This is it. Gotta find a way inside.”

Maul Force jumped to the top of the hill and emitted his red saber. Without having to see Móni step foot on the hill to climb, he Forced pushed her back.

“Seriously? Can’t I at least walk up a hill?”

“Your jumps are an embarrassment.”

“To who? You? You’re not the one jumping. Idiot.”

“What was that?” he growled.

“Master,” she fluttered her eyes at him.

His sneer stuck to his features when he burned his lightsaber through the ground and created a circle.

Móni closed her eyes and recalled what she taught herself. She lifted herself into the air and released when she was above the top of the hill. Her landing was hard, but at least it wasn’t on her back.

“How’s about that?” she grinned.

Maul created another circle with the lightsaber to cut into another layer of dirt. “Pathetic.”

“What am I doing wrong, then?” she asked with exasperation.

“You won’t survive the fall if you jump any higher.”

“That’s true.”

“And fear’s control of you gets stronger the higher you go.”

“Yeah…”

“Pathetic.”

She shrugged without much to counter at the facts. “Alright.”

With one final circle, Maul Force lifted a metal disc topped with dirt and roots and flung it away.

They fell into the hallway that diverged into the occupants’ quarters. The space was cold and haunting. The quiet too loud for Móni. Behind her, at the end of the hall, was an opened chamber she went through with Mayishka. Her heart pounded in her ears and the blood raced through her veins.

“Apprentice.”

The stern call drew her back to Maul; a living being in the real world, and not a vision she had little control over. “In there,” she pointed.

“Walk,” he said.

“Ladies first.”

With a growl he shoved her forward. “Don’t let it control you. It is your asset.”

“Right.” She was fear. She was the one Q’Var needed to be afraid of. If she was capable of overpowering Maul just a bit, she could do the same with him.

If possible, the room felt emptier and more solitary than the vision. There was a thick layer of dust on the floor and walls, and decay in the metal. In the center was the square cushion, the color faded and its plush weighed down by ages of grime.

The sensation was still the same.

“Do you feel anything?” She turned to Maul who was intrigued by the room, but nothing else.

He considered the question and slid a finger down the wall to rub the gray particles between his fingers. “Old Republic. Its infancy.”

“Mayishka walked me through a memory. About how the natives perished. I think you would have a better understanding of it all than I did.”

“Where is the sensation strongest?”

“The pillow,” Móni said without regarding it.

“Recall its memories.”

“No!”

Her voice reverberated through the brittle walls and silence. Everything about the place was wrong. She felt wrong. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so afraid. A child perhaps? It was controlling her, even after Maul’s teachings it was hard to apply the concepts. Steps. She needed to take everything in steps. First, steady breaths and heart rate. Once they were calm, she tried again with better control.

“I’ll tell you what I saw first.” She proceeded to enact what she did in Mayishka’s vision and opened a drawer that contained only the journal. It was still intact and exactly how she left it. She handed it to Maul. “I’ve read through some of it already.”

As he shifted through the pages, captivated by the strange sensation where paper was nonexistent in their current age, he glanced over the writing while Móni observed his expressions.

Confusion knitted his hairless brows then into nothing. He closed the journal without taking a minute of its time.

“It’s kinda hard to understand-”

“I understood enough. Relive the man’s memories.”

Móni was defeated in hopes he gained what was needed from the journal’s madness and forget the cushion. “Maybe if you read some of it, I won’t have to.”

“Use your fear and hatred of the dead man and relive the memories to see for yourself what’s real and what’s your imagination.”

“Imagination? I know what I saw.”

“Prove it,” he gestured to the only object in the room.

Riddled with frustration and resentment for the zabrak, she huffed her surrender and slapped her hand at the pillow raising a gray and brown cloud over her vision. When it dissipated, she was no longer in an ancient relic but a functioning ship.

The door slid open to allow a blue and purple-tinted nautolan stride in with heavy steps. His robes gave an impression of a Jedi, but severely different by its material, color, and ornamentation. Coming close behind was Q’Var who gave off pretentious airs with his steady walk and raised chin.

“What have you done?” There was a quiver in the nautolan’s voice.

“Done what, Master?” Innocence stroked every word from Q’Var’s thin lips.

“Enough of this façade! I know what you are. What you’ve turned into. The Council may see your potential, but all I see is a failure. You’ve betrayed us.”

“And you? The Jedi? Betrayed your own code.”

“We’ve upheld everything the Prime Jedi had passed down to us. And by eradicating the Sith we are doing just that.”

“Taking children of the Force to create an army against the Sith? Oh, yes. Very peaceful.”

“They need to be stopped. They are the ones disrupting the balance. You’re going down a route I’m afraid I can never pull you out of. It was my own failures as a Master that turned you this way. I won’t deny that.”

“Spare me your pity. I chose this path because it’s liberating. You were just a tool to help sharpen my senses and perfected my techniques. Nothing more.”

“So, you did do it.”

“What would you have done? The barbarians refused our ways and they don’t want to offer their children. Our only option is to kill the adults since the Grand Master is so set on creating a legacy with the talented vermin. As for Yewluf, I’m afraid his persistence was clouding his insignificant mind.”

The nautolan’s blue features turned a few shades lighter. “What do you know of Yewluf’s death?”

“Oh... the sweet sound of his bones crunching. The betrayal in his eyes. How he clenched onto my robes while he gasped his final breaths.”

“No. It can’t be. You started this war.”

Wild anger flared without control in Q’Var. “You started it, Master. You and every other Jedi. You ruined my sanctuary. My trust. And the lot of you deserve to perish for your hypocrisy.” His green lightsaber illuminated the room.

The nautolan stood without reciprocating the action. An immense weight pressed onto his shoulders and dragged his features.

“What are you staring at, old fool? Release your lightsaber!” Q’Var said through gritted teeth and a taught jaw as his anger developed into hatred.

“I won’t fight you my young padawan. I won’t kill you.”

Blinded by his fury, Q’Var screamed and aimed at the nautolan’s neck. Pieces of his tendrils flopped to the ground with his severed head.

He heaved gasping breaths with unfocused eyes. His feet dragged across the floor to the cushion where he sat crossed-legged on. He inhaled in ecstasy before his eye rolled back closed to meditate on the violence, hatred, and corruption. The emotions swirled within him and exploded into the same maniacal laughter he used in Móni’s vision. It was an uncontained and unchecked hatred that had been swallowed into suffering. Q’Var hadn’t realized his own internal turmoil of killing his Master and relinquishing a life he was comfortable with. Tears mixed with madness. Madness mixed with laughter. And Laughter mixed with sorrow. His mind was broken and could never be mended again. When his false merriment ceased and fell into the dead silence of his master’s body, he pressed the lightsaber’s emitter towards his abdomen. His hands shook as he held the weapon meant to protect and serve the galaxy. He held his breath, his thumb hovered over the activation plate.

In a moment of acceptance, his eyes cleared--eyes that belonged to Q’Var the Jedi. In two swift movements, his thumb activated and deactivated the lightsaber. A burnt hole in his abdomen was created and he fell to the ground, staring into his master’s greying onyx spheres. The tears continued until his final breaths.

Móni raised her hand and touched her wet face. She wiped it dry in her bicep and sat before the cushion, all fear of Q’Var gone. A part of her back was warmed with a slight imprint of a hand that made her turn in search for Maul. He was at the doorway with his hands behind his back with a scowling stare.

“Well, apprentice. What have we learned?”

“Not everything is what it seems.”

“No. Without control you’ll turn into that madman. The Dark Side is powerful and chaotic. If you don’t wield it properly it can consume you. His kind was what led to the eradication of the Sith Order, until Darth Bane and his Rule of Two. Control, patience, manipulation, and victory was what kept us alive and hidden under the Jedi’s rule. Keep Q’Var in your memories as a reminder of what not to become: a naïve fool and failure without objective.”

“Not much of a Rule of Two is there?”

“No,” Maul drawled. “A mistake on my master’s part.”

“Your master… It’s Palpatine isn’t it?”

Maul’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Darth Sidious.”

“I know him and Palpatine are the same person. I felt it a long time ago when I used to live on Coruscant. Doesn’t hide it very well if you ask me.”

Móni shifted her weight from leg to leg under Maul’s scrutiny. When the awkward silence was too much, she raised her voice higher than was necessary. “What are you staring at me for? Is there snot on my face or something?” She checked her nose and came back with nothing, then proceeded to pat her taught hair, face, and neck. “What?”

“Not even Grand Master Yoda could detect my master’s identity. How could a novice without constraint sense such a thing?”

She shrugged. “Special, I guess.”

Unsatisfied with the response, but knew it was all he could get without turning the discussion into another bout, Maul shifted the conversation. “Does he know who you are?”

“Yes. I mean. He doesn’t know how I look like, but he’s sensed me and I him.”

“What does he want from you?”

“Same reason as you, probably. Power. He already has an apprentice doesn’t he, though?”

“You know far more than you let on, woman,” he sneered showing his teeth. “How did you acquire such knowledge unless you were an apprentice to a Jedi?”

“I’ve never met a Jedi in my life,” she whined, spent from being called a Jedi too many times. “Seen a few of ‘em with some Senators back in the day, but that was it.”

Maul growled through his chest but said no more on the subject knowing the apprentice would tug him around in circles without giving a straight answer. He made his way to the self-made entrance but was halted by a wave of anger.

“Can you answer my question now, please? I haven’t forgotten.”

Móni caught one surly look over his shoulder. He held it there in silence before he stepped away.

“I did everything you asked of me and I listened to your Sith garbage for once! The least you can do is--“

“The information about this planet was given to me as a final farewell.”

Móni blinked in awe. “By who?”

“Mother.”

Maul Forced jumped out of the derelict ship.

Stunned by the information and the very idea of a Sith coming from a mother, or have any respect for one, kept her in place.

Of course, he has a mother. Or had.

The zabrak had sentimental tendencies; a strange characteristic to discover from someone who threatened to kill her twice. There was so much pain when he spoke of her, as would any child when they spoke of a deceased parent. It was very… normal. Avin mentioned he had a brother too but didn’t know how he died.

Guess I’m not the only one with secrets that burdens me.

There was more to Maul than Móni could ever imagine.

On the ground was the journal, but it was opened to the back flap with its inner seams undone. The pocket was empty of the rogue Jedi’s letter.

Chapter Text

The woman learned fast... when she wanted to. She was agile, quick, and possessed strength that rivaled most of his strongest warriors. It had taken a little more than a standard month, but her connection with the Force had strengthened to some extent. There was no trouble when it came to the weight or size of an object, it was a matter of not using an explosive amount at once. For instance:

“No problem. I can totally make this ship fly.” M óni said without meaning a single word.

Somewhat immune to her ‘comical’ mannerisms, Maul remained silent and awaited her to do what he asked. What had become customary whenever they trained, he analyzed her techniques when she steadied her thoughts. She slowed her breaths and focused on the Force surrounding her—its presence rustled the loose flaps of her clothing and the stray curls over her brown features—then a fleeting thought over the length of her dark lashes made its way in his observation. When she considered herself ready, her full lips parted into the faintest grin, which Maul lingered on a few seconds longer than necessary.

The soft grin, however, evolved into something smug which could only mean the apprentice was going to do something notoriously stupid. Before he could drag her to the dirt, a great surge of energy pulsated from her and the ship skyrocketed to the heavens at an incredible speed.

“Woah!” she laughed with amusement at herself.

Although Maul should have been pleased with her show of power, it was all wrong. Everything the woman did was wrong. During moments like those, he missed his brother as an apprentice; someone who followed his instructions and did their best to uphold his respect. What was worse, she knew what she was capable of, she only refused to reach that threshold of proficiency, whether to exasperate his patience or for reasons he had yet to discover. He was betting on the former, and the very notion made his blood boil and his vision haze red. The apprentice also chose not to use hatred to use the Force, or the harmonizing feelings the Jedi preferred. It was all a flurry of emotions that made Maul wonder how she was able to use it at all.

Hatred. Happiness. Fear. Anger. Excitement. Because of her lack of choice, she was utterly out of balance with herself and the Force.

The apprentice may be more trouble than she was worth, but to relinquish her and have her be taken by his former master would be worse. He had to endure because no matter what method he used in an attempt to straighten her chaotic nature she always found a way to turn it against him:

The earth shook, air vibrated, and there was a soft ring in his ears. Maul was, in all accounts, livid. He had hoped the undisturbed pace of training before the dawn until dusk was an achievement for the apprentice the past few weeks. Before he had to personally wake her with the same mind manipulation he used in the past, only she learned to steel her thoughts better. As he stared down the compound’s entrance, anticipating her arrival, he had considered a myriad way of punishment in the hopes one simple task would finally be ingrained into her anarchic design.

Her flurried emotions were felt before she placed one foot on those steps and were never reached. Maul lifted her out of the compound and set her jaw into his iron grip.

The woman attempted to speak with the constriction and it only made his grasp tighten. There was no fear in her dusk eyes, but he sensed something worse than his failed intimidation: excuses.

“Hear me out, hear me out,” she raised her hands in hopes her surrender would change anything.

“This is the last time you will be late again, apprentice,” he growled—her nose mere centimeters away from his. “Starting now.”

He Forced pushed her into the ground hard enough to create an indent and held her immobile. The muscles of her arms and neck strained from the struggle but there was no anger, only retaliation.

“You will learn to respect your master,” he pushed her deeper. Pain flashed in her eyes, but nothing more. “And you will learn to accommodate to the ways of the Sith. There is no choice in this matter.”

As he spoke, the apprentice shut her eyes and focused within. When he finished his lecture, he remembered a bright flash of orange before he was sent hurtling back in the air and to the ground.

Without a moment to lose, she dived right into her defense in one breath. “So, the imported goods brought back last night, I peeked through some of it and my mouth watered at the marbled meats, Alderaanian fish, and Nabooian fruits. My culinary inspiration struck and I had to make something or else I wouldn’t be able to sleep. So, I prepped a whole feast for tonight and it’s going to be great. In the end, I still ended up not sleeping. Maybe an hour or two. I’m super sorry and I won’t promise it won’t happen again because it definitely will.”

She breathed her first breath since her monologue began. It was clear the woman had no mind for training and would only prove to be a waste of time if he tried to push her. Deflection became a skill she perfected more than her own Force abilities, and it was infuriating.

He didn’t care. He didn’t want to listen to her rambles. But he heard every word and understood he had lost this battle against his greatest foe: food. Maul sat crossed-legged as he stared her down with undeniable fury. Without a word between them, the woman mimicked his position across from him.

“You are going to meditate and learn to focus,” he growled, deep and menacing.

“For how long?”

“All day.”

“What?! But dinner…”

“You can either obey me or I will personally destroy anything you have made before your eyes.”

“Harsh,” she complied. Finally.

In the meantime, he meditated on forgetting the feeling of her heat through his gloves.

Although she did fail in respect, control, and skills, her physical prowess and hand to hand combat surpassed his. She had no formal training, therefore no technique, which was the only upper hand he had against her. As a shockball player she possessed fast reflexes and could acutely sense incoming projectiles. What she severely lacked was guidance in weaponry, an essential, of course, for any Sith or Jedi. He did not forget their first encounter when she mentioned how she had never held a lightsaber—a shocking revelation for someone who could use the Force and be aware of its presence. She was a mystery, especially when it came to her connection with his former master.

When Maul was an apprentice to Sidious, he had never recalled him mentioning anything about a being who rivaled his own power. His master trusted him to relay some of his plans for the galaxy, from the darkest Sith secrets to Order 66. The question he needed to ask was when his master knew of Móni’s existence and vice versa. There was something large at play and Maul believed his master’s schemes had begun since the raid of the Abolition. But nothing could get done if the apprentice can’t even wield a lightsaber:

Dust covered her ebony curls from the umpteenth time M óni was flipped onto her back. This time she remained where she was with arms and legs outstretched.

“Apprentice,” Maul snarled.

“What am I doing wrong?” She sat up. “Clearly I’m stronger than you.”

The question flickered a memory when his brother asked something similar during their piteous raids for money and food when the Jedi were hunting them during the war. His strength also outmatched Maul’s and he relied on it like a crutch. It was his undoing. Maul shut his eyes away from the regret and buried it deep to make sure the emotion would never resurface again. There was no regret. Only hatred.

And he refused to make the same mistake twice by losing another apprentice against his master.

“You rely too much on your strength. Use your opponent’s balance against them then turn into the offensive to strike the finishing blow.”

“Isn’t strength power for you people?”

“Strength is physical and mental. Rely too much on one and you are out of balance.” Maul stepped into form. “Again.”

After several sparring sessions, her grasp of the concept reflected in her performance and movements. Each strike was not only powerful and precise but also elegant and polished. Trying to catch a leaf carried by the wind was the closest comparison to landing a blow on her.

Maul tossed a plain wooden staff which she caught without looking.

“What’s this?”

“Your lightsaber.”

She inspected the sanded and smoothed gray wood. “Didn’t think you were the type to crack a joke.”

“Follow my instructions,” Maul ignored her and proceeded to lead a series of forms she followed as close as she possibly could.

By dusk, she had mastered the first form with precision. Her body twisted, bent, and flowed with the wind and Force. Each swing was measured, and each thrust was powerful, yet controlled. For the first time, Maul truly witnessed the birth of an ultimate weapon. The woman was a natural-born fighter—she only needed to learn how to kill, if she hadn’t before.

Maul observed her perform a second form. Her footwork was light, unlike his own with the extra weight to his metal limbs. At times he could have sworn she had hovered for several seconds after a hop or jump. Her hips faced the right direction with the movement of her torso and arms, and her posture commanded confidence. Fighting was in her element and for once she did not make any snark remarks or backtalk. Instead, joy radiated from her constant grin and eager eyes. The expression was… new. It was not the mocking joy he usually received from her. This was bright and pure. And the feelings were conveyed through every step, twist, and turn. It wasn’t disciplined like a Jedi nor vehement like a Sith. There was passion laced with happiness and freedom he had never seen before. And her hands wielded the staff as if it was a part of her.

He followed every shift of her tendons and muscles beneath the smooth skin, and every rotation of her wrists. In a matter of months, she could reach the level of mastery. No. Would.

When he caught a misstep in the final parts of the form, he halted before he spoke when he paid close attention to the skin of her arms. Beneath her left forearm and right bicep were small beauty marks he had never noticed before. They meant nothing and were mere human flaws, yet he was overcome with a yearning to touch the perfect imperfections that fit his apprentice so well.

Again.

It was happening again.

“Agh!”

Maul was brought back to the harsh reality of a very flawed Sith apprentice. Her hands were brought to her head in distress and he did not care to know why. But she shared her dilemma anyway.

“I totally forgot to turn the voltaic kiln on to cook the roast!”

“Finish the form,” he sneered.

“Then can I go?”

“After you start from the beginning and complete it without flaw.”

“But it took hours to perfect the other one.”

“Now,” he drawled with annoyance.

“Now I know who’s definitely not getting a piece,” the apprentice muttered under her breath before she began what was instructed of her.

Soon it would be time to have her construct a lightsaber, but there was a final trial she needed to pass, and it was one he was most wary of. But as her master and his apprentice there needed to be trust between them and this would be a testament to assess if such a thing existed.

In the dark briefing room with no furniture or anything else of comfort, was a console in the center that displayed a red holomap of the galaxy. Rook and Gar were across from Maul who selected an empty space west of the Core.

“There is a merchant ship with weapons making its way from the Unknown Regions,” Rook briefed Maul with a datapad in hand. “The syndicates are ‘requesting’ we acquire these valuables and bring them to Tatooine. In return, they’re willing to accept you as the fifth crime syndicate.” She tossed the datapad on the edge of the holomap.

Gar chuckled. “Sounds wild.”

“We can only assume it’s making its way from the underworld’s ghost planet: Csilla.” Rook continued.

“They’re trying to get us killed if they want us traveling through that part of the galaxy,” Gar grinned. “We’ve become a threat to them.”

“I agree with Saxon. But if we don’t comply then we’ve got a war on our hands with the syndicates for not meeting their demands.”

Maul listened faintly to their advice. Very few knew of Csilla’s existence, and he was almost certain the Emperor had no knowledge of it… yet. “Who does the merchant ship belong to?” he asked.

“A big shot dignitary named Vos,” Gar answered. “His security is as high as an Imperial’s, which is why no syndicate has bothered to create a ransom or buy them off because of their delicate dealings with the Empire.”

“A dignitary who is aware of Csilla’s existence could only mean they are not quite in full allegiance with the Empire,” Maul spoke as the wheels of strategy and control spun in his mind. This was what he had been waiting for, and the syndicates offered it to him by will, the buffoons. “Create a team to get that ship,” Maul demanded. “We’ll be the ones to strike a deal with this Vos, and the Hutts will get nothing.”

“Sir,” Rook obeyed. “Am I also preparing for you to join us?”

“My apprentice will go in my stead.”

“What?” Rook’s voice raised higher than what she intended and backtracked. “Excuse me. Why is she leading this?”

“She’s still kinda green,” Gar agreed. “No offense to your training and all, but her personality is…,” he spun his hand while he thought hard on the right word to describe the apprentice.

Rook stared dead at Maul. “Precarious. We’ve seen the vids when her and Avin were in the jungle together, and she’s not leadership material.”

The Sith Crime Lord regarded his Lieutenant and Commander, both of whom been at his side since the divergence of Death Watch and saved him from his Master’s stronghold. What they value more than their own lives were success and honor, and Móni represented the opposite of their Mandalorian code.

“And your pathetic excuse for a warrior survived because her.” Their defiance was understandable, but unwarranted when a group of elite soldiers couldn’t discard a weak link in their chains. “The success of this mission will determine my apprentice’s place among us. There will be other opportunities if we fail, and I can deal with the syndicates if it came to that.”

“You,” Rook processed her lord’s words with mild uncertainty. “Do you expect her to fail?”

“That’s rough,” Gar laughed.

“No.” If the woman failed she would face the harsh reality of a Sith, and he would have great pleasure in disfiguring the images of her face and beauty marks in his mind. “I expect her to learn.”

-

In the mess hall were a few stragglers finishing what dinner was left on their plates. They ate with vivacity and the conversations were animated. Móni and Avin were amongst them, but in the far end of the hall creating their own bubble of merriment.

“You could have just gone to a control panel and tried to open it." Avin was completely thrown, but couldn’t help the laugh waiting to erupt.

Móni took a fast swig of blue milk. “I did! But I think I pressed the wrong thing and it short-circuited. Could have already been broken now that I think about it.”

“Wasn’t Betts with you?”

“Was being sassy as usual. So, I just punched the dang thing closed.”

“How did you manage to punch an airlock closed?”

“With style.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re a simpleton.”

“You take that back or I’ll starve you for a whole meal.”

“I can survive a few hours without your food.”

Unconvinced, Móni raised an eyebrow.

“You’re right I can’t.”

“Ha ha! My cooking has you seduced.”

“Okay. That’s weird.”

Focused on themselves, they were oblivious to the room’s silence when a figure graced their presence. No words or a movement was needed for the remaining stragglers to scurry out of the area.

The sudden loss of life was what brought Móni’s attention to the front of the mess hall where her master stood in his standard posture.

“You think he’s here for you?” Móni asked Avin casually. The opposite of how the Mandalorian was feeling.

“He never comes in here.”

“He doesn’t eat?”

Avin shrugged for a response but expressed well enough how stupid he found the question.

“You should probably go. He’s getting annoyed.”

“He is? Looks the same to me.”

“Trust me.”

Not wanting to be the one to set his Lord’s mood off, Avin ducked his head when he went past him and did not look back.

Because of the cybernetic limbs Maul’s strides were unnatural and came off as almost uncomfortable. If it was, he did not show it or was used to the legs after using them for so many years. When he fought, though, Móni often forgot he had them. He was practically flawless and his movements smooth unlike his janky walk to her table.

She should be as surprised as Avin at his presence since she never saw him after their training. He would disappear somewhere and left her alone for the evening, which she had no problems with—content about it really. He gave her some time for a personal life, but it could really be he needed time to be an overlord for a massive crime organization.

“This is a surprise. Came all this way to see me? You shouldn’t have.”

Unimpressed with her mock flattery, he scowled while he lowered himself into Avin’s spot across from her. “I am here to brief you.”

“Brief me?” Móni set aside her jests to regard her master with full attention.

“Yes. As my apprentice you are also part of Crimson Veil, therefore you should uphold your title and place here.”

“No one cares I’m your apprentice.”

“Because you don’t give them a reason to,” he bared his teeth. “You show too much compassion and make your nonsensical quips to be included among them. You are not like them or anything else their feeble minds could ever grasp. You are more than a soldier or mercenary. You are Sith and it is time to show them that.”

“You know better than anyone that I don’t care about being a Sith.”

A very rare expression settled in his features: understanding. “Nor a Jedi. But I am not giving you an option to choose, you are my apprentice and are Sith.”

Móni spun the tall cylinder of a nearly empty cup of blue milk in her hands. “I think I made my choice when I first listened and really thought about your lessons. They make more sense than a Jedi’s in some way. But there are also some similarities. The Sith wouldn’t have been created if it weren’t for the Jedi.”

The cylinder shattered in Móni’s hands spilling blue liquid across the table and dripped down her thighs. She was not fast enough to react when her hands were pinned by the Force against the table.

“I knew you had some training before. Your movements prove you’ve held a lightsaber and you’ve learned the forms too fast. Jedi,” he called her with a growl that vibrated the table.

“Calm down you psycho! I’ve been telling you the truth.”

“Lies,” he hissed as he compressed the Force tighter around her hands.

The pain raised a surge of anger in her. His treatment of her. His lack of trust when he was the one who decided to take a stray, untamed dog from the greasy halls of a dead space station. She didn’t have to be there. She didn’t have to settle for the abuse.

And she didn’t.

Móni dug her fingers into the rectangular table and lifted it with full intent to knock Maul’s head up. He had the reflexes to dodge, but not the focus to maintain his hold of the Force on her.

Her fingers clung onto the table and with her strength mixed with some help of the Force tore it in two.

Maul had felt many emotions from her to fuel her use of the Force, but never what she showed him that moment. Her eyes shined as bright as the setting sun, and for once her white teeth were exposed as a snarl rather than a grin. The act of tearing apart a hefty object in the same fashion one could tear a piece of cloth made the muscles and veins of her arms bulge, and like pressing into a pillow her fingers sunk into the metal in a firm grip. The woman was the epitome of chaos and combined with his teachings she had grown far stronger than he anticipated. He was conflicted about whether the rapid progress was positive or reckless.

“Do you hate me, apprentice?”

In the brevity his face crossed a shadow, the blazing yellow of his eyes gleamed with cruel delight which only deepened Móni’s hatred. Hatred was an emotion she rarely displayed since it was a tiring feeling that drained her mentally but expressing it in front of a Sith fed Maul’s ego at his success of turning her into his personal weapon. The breaths turned hitched when it escalated to abhorrence directed at herself for falling prey to his manipulations.

“At this moment I do." Móni chose honesty was what would separate herself from the raw hatred he used. She would bare truth until his ears bled. “Torture me, abuse me, dive into my thoughts, or hack me into pieces—I don’t care! I have no reason to explain myself to someone who demands and takes when they offer nothing in return. I understand what you expect of me but that doesn’t mean you should treat me like a mindless pet. Doing so would only make things more difficult for you,” she said as she jabbed a finger at his chest. “And you know it, especially if you’re after my cooperation.”

Móni searched his tainted eyes for any indication if her words meant anything to him. But all she found was indifference.

Maul straightened his shoulders and spine to command dominance, and although they were of the same height, he felt much taller. The zabrak knew how to intimidate she gave him that.

“If you fought me at the Abolition you could be living your life with the half theelin child and amani, but you chose to come with me.”

“That’s not true. Your skills surpassed mine then, I knew it did. You would have used them against me and killed them."

"But you would have never let that happen,” he circled her. “Not with your power. What held you back, I wonder?” He stroked his chin while he played with a snide grin.

“You did!” She was being attacked like with the native leader all over again. Did she truly have a choice in siding with Maul? She felt there were no other options at the time. When she returned to the time he glided up the shaft with such elegance and how his murderous glare only parted her lips with admiration, she had to check whether something was really going on in that muddled brain of hers. Was it the tattoos and his bright red skin? The way he looked deeply into her and her back? Did she miss something?

“Mm. Perhaps. But I believe there was much more to it. Tell me, apprentice, what do you fear the most? Certainly not the death of loved ones. Or our common enemy. So, what could it be?”

Without hesitation, she responded, “My purpose.”

This stopped Maul. He sensed her emotions and observed for any physical signs of deception, but the woman spoke true. Her hatred faded and turned into the murky waters of sorrow and pain. There was a pattern when she would become this way, but it was one he couldn’t solve.

“Your purpose is to become my greatest asset and defeat the Emperor and his lackey. That is the only purpose you should concern yourself with.”

“But…" There was so much more she wanted to say. To share. But her relationship with the Force was something that could not be easily explained. And Maul was the last person she wanted to share her suffering with. Defeat overcame her, but acceptance showed itself through.

“You’re right,” she said with sincerity. “Focus on one thing. I’m only running around in circles otherwise.”

Her mood lightened, even if it wasn’t his intention to do so. The apprentice had a way of twisting his lectures into something that benefited her unless he wasn’t conveying what he meant properly.

“Your trust will be proven in this upcoming assignment, then all notions of you being a Jedi would be dismissed.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“You are to lead a team to board a commercial vessel and contact the owner. We are going to force their hand to side with us.”

“Lead?” Móni’s jaw dropped. “You’re trusting me to lead? Do you want this mission to fail? What did Rook have to say about it?”

Maul sneered over the surplus of questions. “As my apprentice, you will be required to do whatever I ask and return only with success. Is that clear?”

“There are so many things wrong with this. And don’t think I don’t see any ulterior motives. I know you barely trust me enough to let me bathe without someone there to watch. That’s right. I know you have some people spy on me. So clever. If I do succeed will you answer some of my demands?”

“You don’t make demands. You follow them,” his anger rose. “Do not overstep your bounds.”

“You overstepped yours by pinning me to the table and accused me of something I’ve told you before was false and digging into my head uninvited. How do you expect me to do if you don’t treat me fairly? How in all the systems do you expect me to react?” Móni rubbed her temples. “You know what? Whatever. I don’t care anymore. I’ll do this weird assignment for you and hopefully, it’ll help bridge this gap you keep widening. I’ll talk to Rook and Gar about the specifics. We’re done.”

The anger spiked to an uncontrolled level when she turned her back to him after the lecture she gave him. Maul turned her around and held her jaw in his hands and ignored the glow on her skin for his rage overpowered anything else he might have felt.

“I dismiss you when I say you can be. Do not forget with whom you speak to, woman.”

“I know exactly with whom I’m speaking to, Maul. An obsessed, small-minded bully who can’t see past their own desires and hatred because you have no other purpose.”

His grip tightened to the point Móni heard the bones strain. Her hand shot to his wrist in an iron grip Maul was unable to free himself from, but he refused to release her. In a battle of pain and endurance, their bones bent under the other’s hold and neither looked away as they measured the other’s emotions without a word.

“So, uh,” Betts interjected. “Don’t expect me to clean up the broken table because I just finished cleaning your mess in the kitchen.”

Móni was the first to release her hold and Maul followed. Her emotions weakened while her master’s remained as strong as ever.

“I don’t make messes, Betts.”

“Says the one who never cleans up after herself. Lazy.”

“May I go, Master?”

“No backhand comment? That’s boring.”

“Yes,” Maul hissed putting his bruised wrist behind his back. “Go find Rook and Gar immediately. You are dismissed.”

“Let’s go, Betts.”

On their way out Maul may have misheard the apprentice mutter something off-putting, but in the end, his disregard for it as a misunderstanding made him forget altogether.

Maul held the bruised wrist and pressed it to release the pain. He was beginning to believe she truly was more trouble than she was worth, and if she didn’t survive this journey then so be it. It was one less distraction in his life.

Of course, if she truly did fail, a great weapon was lost along with his security to overthrow his former master. But something dangerous was surfacing and it was taking every ounce of willpower to suppress it. Eventually, he would adapt—managing it all the easier—but the process was tedious, and ignoring it would only make the situation more problematic.

He dealt with her bombastic lectures and attitude, his whirlwind of hatred, and plot against four crime syndicates. Maul was trained to overcome exhaustion, but just this once, he let it seep into his bones and mind to retire for the evening.

The woman better be worth it.

Chapter Text

During Móni’s stormy exit from the mess hall she mumbled under her breath, “It’s like talking to an attractive wall.” Talking put a strain on her jaw from the bruises Maul left and a kind reminder of who she was dealing with.

When the door slid closed behind them Betts peered at her master curiously. “I didn’t want to say anything, but your libido levels have been crazy since it’s been some time you haven’t--"

“Betts! Now’s not the time. I meant that… I mean… I don’t know. He’s so infuriating it drives me insane. Nothing I say gets through to him, yet I keep trying and expect something different. I’m just a piece of property to him.”

“Uhh,” Betts held a metal finger up, but retracted it when she considered her next words. “Right. Property. Like how I am with you.”

Móni arched a humorous brow. “Because you always do what I ask and get dragged to the mud when you disobey me.”

“I get yelled at.”

“Boohoo. A droid without emotions can’t handle a little yelling.”

“It increases your chances of getting wrinkles when you get older.”

“Shut up or I’ll leave you in the jungle to rust.”

“See? Piece of property.”

“Can you be useful and locate Rook and Gar for me?”

“They’re waiting for you in the briefing room.”

“So, my droid is given more information than me. Wonderful.”

“I’m less annoying.”

“Please.”

In the briefing room were Rook and Gar awaiting their new and temporary leader of the mission. Rook’s scowl was even worse, and Móni could only guess she was severely unhappy with Maul’s decision. Gar seemed amused by the prospect.

“Here’s the deal,” Rook began.

“Not even a hello? We haven’t talked much.”

“Yes. That was intentional.”

Unfazed, Móni shrugged. “But you eat my food.”

Rook blinked and continued by displaying the holomap. “In the Unknown Regions is a shipment of supplies wanted by the crime syndicates. We are tasked in retrieving said products and returning it here to D’Qar.”

“Not to the crime families?”

“No. Lord Maul has other intentions. The vessel belongs to a powerful dignitary Maul hopes to have dealings with to overpower the crime families.”

“So, I’m just there to make contact and hold their items hostage?”

“Precisely.”

“Doesn’t sound too hard, unless the crime families have something else in mind.”

“We’re aware of their intentions,” Gar spoke. “They want to get rid of us since we’re rising a little too quickly in power. We’ve practically overtaken all their weapon sources and converted them into the Crimson Veil.”

“How exactly am I supposed to find this vessel in the Unknown Regions? The one place in the galaxy that is uncharted. Can’t we wait for it to enter the Mid Rim?”

“Can’t,” Gar sighed. “This dignitary is a clever fellow. They hyperspace the moment they enter the Mid Rim boundaries without leaving a trace. They’ve got some high-tech stuff that could give the Imperials a run for their money.”

Rook tossed a disc. “Here are your first coordinates. There is an infochant who will have the location you need.”

“Why didn’t you find this guy before?”

“Another task from Lord Maul, I assume.”

“Of course,” Móni handed the disc to Betts. “Am I taking a team with me?”

“A ship with your team are ready for you.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Now.” Rook forced with a tight jaw.

“At least I had a meal beforehand. Ready, Betts?”

“No.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

When they left, Rook pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is going to be an utter disaster.”

“Maybe she’ll surprise us,” Gar said with genuine trust in Móni. “The records we were able to salvage from the Abolition, she had a steady winning streak in the shockball tournaments.”

“On a derelict ship with the scum of the galaxy.”

“The sport is no joke. I’ve seen people die playing it, and as the leader of all the matches, she’s never lost a teammate. At least, on the field.”

“This isn’t a sport, Gar. This is Lord Maul’s empire. He’s putting too much trust in her.”

“But we trust him, therefore, we need to trust her. He’s the one who’s been training her. There could be more to her than we realize?”

“I don’t see it.”

“Or you refuse to see it. She has no honor like us or is simple-minded like a criminal. Maybe you need to open yourself up to her a little more.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t like her. She returned with Lord Maul unbounded. Durmónia came of her own free will.”

“We sided with Lord Maul out of our own will too.”

“But we have the same objective. She has no motives when there is always one, which makes her dangerous. The woman could be a threat to us all.”

“Avin trusts her.”

“Avin is weak and a fool.”

“He’s a Mandalorian.”

Rook stared into the holomap and found the planet where she was raised and trained amongst the most elite warriors in the galaxy. They were all outfitted and drilled in the same way Avin was. And he was, frankly, one of Rook’s best warriors.

“I was surprised he joined us.”

“We all were. He didn’t hide his feelings about Lord Maul and Savage.” Gar followed Rook’s gaze. “Feels like a dream, huh? It was ages ago.”

“I’ll have Avin keep an eye on her and make sure she stays on task. Durmónia trusts him.”

“That’s reasonable.”

“We won’t tell Lord Maul. This stays within our clan.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Outside the compound was a light freighter modified with laser cannons and a paint job to match the Mandalorian’s black, gray, and red armor schemes. Beneath the hull was Avin scanning a compartment with his wrist panel.

“Avin? No way!”

Avin’s smile did not match Móni’s delight and she did not press him on the subdued emotions.

“Another suicide mission with you. You’re bad luck.”

“Don’t say that,” Móni grimaced. “I’d rather have everyone get out of this in one piece.”

“Let’s hope. You are the one leading.”

“That had better be a compliment.”

His good nature was cracked through by a more genuine smile sparked by humor. “Guess we’ll see.”

“Who are the other guys?”

On cue two men stepped off the ramp.

“Oh look,” Móni pointed. “I know you.”

“Baelis Ionzil. We met before,” Baelis said with all seriousness.

“I remember your name, Bealis. Not really the other one.”

Móni recognized the unique designs of the armor and horns on the helmet to know he was the same Mandalorian who picked Avin and her up in the jungle.

Underneath his helmet was black waves on his head, olive skin flawed by a scar that left his mouth disfigured, and hazel eyes. “Myn Jallo at your service,” he paused to work his next words. “Ma’am?”

“Móni. Please,” Móni waved a hand as if the title gave off a bad stink. “I’m not ma’am material.”

“It is disrespectful to refer a leader by only their name,” Baelis spoke harshly.

“But I don’t find it disrespectful, so what’s the problem?”

“We are not equals and we should not treat you as such. You are superior to us in power and status. You represent Lord Maul in this mission, therefore you are not Móni, but Lady, Ma’am, Madame, or Your Grace.”

As he listed the titles, Móni shrunk further and further with disgust and horror. “Pick what you want okay?”

“The ship is ready,” Avin smacked the hull with good measure.

“Boss gave you the coordinates?” Myn asked Móni as they went up the ramp.

“Betts has it.”

“She’s your droid?” Myn was appalled.

Even Baelis took a moment to pause at Betts who rolled past them.

“Who did you think she belonged to?”

“This droid,” Baelis began carefully. “Did not go through the proper procedures of what could be downloaded into its memory of this compound. It has been entering and exiting areas sectioned off for only select clan members.”

“Maybe,” Betts began. “You should update your quaint security. A child made it.”

“I made it,” Baelis deadpanned.

“Betts turned only the top half of her body to face him. “Then do better, child.”

“Alright, kids, cut the chatter. We got places to go and work to do. Whether we like it or not,” Móni muttered under her breath.

“Yes, Lady Móni.”

A shiver went up Móni’s spine and left her fingers numb. The connotations of referring to Maul lord and she lady left an undesirable feeling in her stomach.

“You know what? Ma’am is fine.”

From the main cockpit of a shuttle with stealth fighter augmentations was Rook and three Mandalorians warming the ship for space.

“They’ve left the atmosphere and in hyperspace,” Rook updated her leader from the console.

At the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, Maul stared beyond the viewport and deep into the sky’s orange hue.

“Lord Maul?”

“Set the coordinates for Andelm IV,” he answered curtly.

“Sir.”

When Maul retreated to the galley Rook glanced where he had stood and back at the setting sun with hard speculation.

“Engines are ready, Commander Kast.”

Rook shook her head to banish the surfaced assumptions, especially since they made little sense and probably had to do with her severe dislike for Durmónia.

It was nothing. What could a sunset possibly mean?

“Let’s go.”

Móni spun in a chair behind Avin and Baelis who were at the control panels navigating their destination. She absently stared out the viewport where the stars streaked past in their travel through hyperspace, creating a lulling hum mixed with the ship’s ion engines.

“Have you had dealings with this Ante guy before?” Móni brokered the silence to free her boredom.

“You’ve never heard of him?” Avin turned to her. “The one who had been living on the Abolition, the source of all the pests in the galaxy.”

“I wasn’t a criminal.”

“No?” Myn wondered with disbelief as he buffed his blasters clean. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Believe what you like. But since he’s clearly so famous, I assume you’ve dealt with him?”

“Incorrect,” Baelis spoke. “Lord Maul doesn’t pay for information. He is given it.”

“So…" Móni was putting the contrived plan together. “We’re not paying him for information?”

“Correct.”

“He’s just going to give it to us.”

“Also correct.”

“Are we going to threaten him?”

“Correction,” Avin lifted a finger then pointed at Móni. “You are.”

“Is this Maul’s usual way of handling things?”

“That and killing,” Myn shrugged.

“I’m not going to kill the guy if that’s what we’re doing.”

The cockpit fell into silence.

Baelis stood from his seat to glower at Móni through his visor. The intensity of it was felt amongst everyone in the room without the need to see his face.

“We cannot let him live after he discloses the information. Once he knows of who we are and what we’ve asked for, it becomes another piece of data he can be bribed for. Nothing must get in the way of Lord Maul’s vision.”

“Baelis,” Avin called for him to return to his seat, but the man did not budge. But his fingers hovered over his blasters which raised alarms between his two companions.

Myn took a turn to attempt the same thing. “Hey, buddy. We’re almost there so sit down would ya?”

The men were on edge, Móni could feel. There was also a high amount of distrust towards her, even from Avin whom she knew had been dragging around a ball of stress the moment she greeted him. Maul’s words struck her so hard she hated to admit he was right—she needed their respect as a leader to get through this. And Baelis was correct about her status among them. She never considered how close she was to Maul compared to the Mandalorians who barely associated with him personally, apart from Rook and Gar. Try as she might to be one of the rabble, it was an impossible feat as long as she was under Maul’s apprenticeship.

Betts rolled in and analyzed the crew members’ tense expressions. “Let me guess. Móni.”

“Have any of you been to or heard of Anthan Spire?” Móni asked the room.

“Neither,” Avin said.

“It’s mainly a holiday destination for some of the richest beings in the galaxy,” Móni explained. “The lower levels are where our friend is located and where gambling and other games take place; which means lots of cameras and loads of security. If we’re going to catch this Vos guy in time, we shouldn’t waste any of it by figuring out how to get around those obstacles, and especially the consequences of killing a well-regarded infochant.”

Baelis’ trigger finger ceased twitching and relaxed at his sides, which lightened Avin’s and Myn’s moods tremendously.

“What is it you propose we do?” Baelis asked—curious.

“He won’t know we’re part of Crimson Veil, so you’re going to have to get rid of your armor when we go in. And your blasters.”

“Why our blasters?” Myn was shocked.

“Not a whole lot of people use yellow bolts. So, change them.”

Myn sunk in his seat and stroked his smooth barrel in resigned silence.

Baelis pressed further. “And how are we going to get him to talk?”

“That,” Móni struggled, “I’m not sure. I can pull off some intimidation, but I’m sure he’s used to that sort of stuff and has countermeasures prepared in case it ever happened. We can pick up some dirt to use against him. No one is perfect, even someone with a high track record.”

Betts turned to Móni with a maniacal gleam in her photoreceptors.

“Sounds like we’re basing this all on speculation,” Avin leaned back in his seat.

“I feel like this whole mission is based on speculation,” Móni scoffed.

Avin and Myn murmured their agreement, then regarded Baelis who had not stirred a muscle.

“Baelis?” Avin called. “What do you think?”

He lingered longer on the silence before answering. “This plan would not work if I weren’t here.”

Móni’s face did not hide her blatant dislike and doubt on the comment.

He continued. “I’ll find what you need to know on The Ante.”

“Is this child going to take my job away?” Betts interfered.

Móni clapped her hands together in a mock epiphany. “The two of you can work together!”

A static of annoyance struck between the two of them, but neither stated their defiance.

Upon their arrival to Anthan Spire, the men removed their armor and switched their personally modified blasters for standard ones. Needless to say, they were upset over the loss of their second skin and best friends. But they did not argue and respected their orders, which was what baffled Móni. She was accustomed to validating her decisions as a leader to a shockball team, especially amongst a group of scums and cheats. Even Betts was more silent than usual, knowing this was no game nor one of her master’s antics. The task was severe in a possibly life-threatening sort of way, especially if the other crime families were involved. And the Hutts, no less.

Just get it done, Móni. No point in worrying about it. You’re already in it.

Inside the casino were species within the higher class range gambling and drinking with less of the disruptive exuberance one would often see in a casino for the criminals and less fortunate population of the galaxy.

“Nice place they got here,” Myn commented. “If only they can keep the casinos we go to this clean and well maintained. All the machines are working.”

“Betts. Baelis. Do your thing. Myn, follow and cover for the two of them while they find a console to hack into. Avin, we’ll be splitting and keeping our ears open for info on the floor.”

“Sounds good, boss,” Myn stepped between Baelis and Betts who were ready to have an argument over their difference in opinions with a room full of security and individuals with enough power and means to end their lives without resolve. She, however, trusted Myn understood the gravity of his role as just a mere cover, but also a mediator.

While Avin covered an area of the grand room, Móni went around in search of a crowd to blend herself into and listen to the onlookers who watch others gamble rather than themselves. She went past the rows of lugjacks and one-armed smuggler machines which were each occupied with one to three players at most. In the far end of the room, away from the crowds and where the least popular and older games were lined up, were Baelis and Betts splicing a door with Myn casually leaning over the doorframe to cover their handiwork. She hoped to the stars above Betts wouldn’t make a remark lethal enough to have Baelis go trigger happy. His defiance on the ship when he felt Maul’s plans were being threatened was something Móni knew to be wary of. She could joke about her master in front of Avin, but Baelis would take it to heart and act on it—violently.

No wonder Maul has him as his personal slicer and head of security. He’s intense.

Móni entered an area of the casino where the crowds were congested, and the air was a haze of smoke from the countless cigarras. The parties were split amongst Imperial credit filled tables with dealers setting games of pazaak, kiughfid, sabacc, or klilkklak. When the stakes were higher the rowdier the crowd became; twice as much when there was alcohol or spice involved.

Exactly what she was looking for.

The loudest and most obscene table was where a game of zinbiddle was being played. Remnants of red spice were found on some seats and there were empty glasses littered on the floor and table, currently being swiped onto trays by a servant droid. Móni slowly weaved her way through the crowd listening to the conversations taking place, most about bets on the woman or male talz. Apparently, the battle between the two had lasted nearly an hour and the stakes were very high, mainly for the bidders.

“I don’t owe The Ante anything.”

The sweet words drifted into Móni’s ears and she squeezed her way through to listen behind a dug and sullustan.

The dug continued. “He’s been harking at me for money for years, but he knows better than to do anything more than that. The sleazeball asks only as a formality at this point,” he laughed before taking a deep intake of his cigarra followed by a gulp of his liquor.

His intoxicated companion slurred when he responded. “Yurr lecky, Geejhalll. Ah elways ‘ave teh pey…” He slumped into the ground midsentence and snored to sleep.

Móni stepped out of the crowd into a discreet corner and held her commlink. “Betts. Do you have anything on someone named Geejal?”

“Geejal? We see someone named Geezal.”

“A dug?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s him. I think we’ve found our ticket. Gather anything you can about him and meet me by The Ante’s office. Same goes for everyone else.”

A familiar name drifted to Móni, but it came and went so fast she wasn’t sure she heard right nor could she discern the direction it came from. She continued passed an arcona and aqualish conversing:

“It was a child who modified my ion drives to make the ship faster. Even upgraded its whole mainframe so everything runs smoother now.”

“How much did it cost ya?”

“Chump change,” the arcona laughed. “I named a price and he accepted it. The biggest sucker I’ve ever seen!”

“Sounds kinda sketchy if ya ask me.”

“What would you know? You suck at flying.”

She knew it couldn’t be right. That it was all a coincidence. But there was a pressure on her chest telling her the possibility was high.

“Excuse me,” Móni went to them. “I overheard you talking and I’m actually in need of some affordable repairs myself. Do you know how I can contact this person?”

“Sorry, lady,” the arcona shrugged. “He came to me looking for work, so I have no idea. And I didn’t ask for his name neither.”

Móni swallowed. “Was he a half theelin kid?”

“Yeah! That’s him! You know him? I could use him again in the future.”

“No. I don’t know where he is. Sorry,” she mumbled before turning away.

She found him. A desire to scour the galaxy for him now she knew what he’s been up to and the kind of people he had been associating with. Maul wasn’t with her and no one was watching. She could disappear and be forever forgotten with Kyp at her side. Guilt ate into her for the way she left him—without explanation and without consideration of his feelings. She could only imagine Zione trying to placate his worries, anger, and hurt.

She could do it. Right now.

Móni could find more information on Kyp, stowaway (or steal) a ship, and return to his side.

But when she made her way back to the arcona, Avin stood in her way.

“Is something wrong?”

The desperation eased away, but a slight tension remained in her body. “Why would there be?”

Clouded emotions radiated from Avin, similar to when he previously forced a smile at her.

She stopped him. “Is there something wrong with you?”

“Excuse me?” Avin turned defensive with swelling anger. “You’re the one going in the opposite direction.”

“So are you. I told everyone to meet me at The Ante’s place, so what are you doing over here?”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on you now you don’t have a master to keep you in check.”

“Wha?” Móni was affronted. “You think an angry, manipulative, two-bit crime lord has been keeping me in check? He can barely control his temper let alone his violent impulses. And you lot follow him!”

They continued deflecting the other with excuses to cover their own motives, and they knew it. Both were keeping something from the other and neither wanted to expose themselves.

“What’s with all the noise?” Myn waited by the door The Ante resided behind with Baelis and Betts. “I could hear you two over all the machines and credits.”

Móni huffed. “Let’s get this over with.” She went to Betts to acquire the intel she and Baelis found.

Myn raised a brow at Avin. “Sibling quarrel?”

“I wish,” Avin sighed. “She suspects something. And she’s aware I know something too.”

“We will contact Commander Kast with your information as soon as we are able to,” Baelis said with the slightest raise of joviality in his flat tone.

“Turning on her means turning on Lord Maul,” Avin regarded Baelis. “Have you considered that?”

“She’s a tool,” Baelis said simply. “And if a tool has no use then it is thrown away. Lord Maul would never risk his growing empire on the hopes of a single woman.”

Myn shrugged. “For now, let’s report what we know and let Kast do with the information as she sees fit. Let’s not go above our heads here, alright?”

The Mandalorians nodded in agreement.

Avin glanced at Móni. When she looked his way, he averted her gaze with a weight he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

-

Planet Andelm IV was lush with green fields and trees, and some mountain ranges. The planet’s inhabitants valued the planet’s ecosystem and only created pockets of civilizations with sophisticated technology while maintaining the natural terrain around it.

Except for a cunning race who discovered something quite valuable about the secluded planet and cared little about the planet’s life.

A light lit in the darkness on Maul’s wrist commlink and Rook’s voice spoke: “We’re reaching the sugi’s central base of operations, Lord Maul. Shall we let them know of our arrival?”

“No,” Maul deliberated. “Land away from their scanner’s range. Let’s not frighten the skittish creatures.”

“Sir.”

There was a shadow in the Force, Maul could feel. Something was in the works and it was not in his favor. His assumption of the source immediately went to his apprentice, and she could be part of it, but the shadow felt much, much bigger.

The ramp extended not far from Maul’s position, pooling sunlight into the galley and exposing speeder bikes. Rook and her team prepped the bikes when Maul approached them.

“Be on your guard. There may be more here than what we’ve been let on.”

“An ambush?” Rook threw a troublesome but logical possibility. “No one should know we’re here.”

“As we know,” he considered. In his plans, he could have been played or took a misstep. But reflecting on past judgments was a useless cause now. There was no room for failure, therefore, he would have to adapt to whatever was to come.

He could only hope his apprentice was capable of such a thing as well.

Chapter Text

The Ante was a givin--an ugly, skeletal creature with eye sockets so deep one could not see their irises and only a black void. He observed his guests with calm speculation and his fingers pressed together before his permanently gaping mouth.

Unsettled by the long silence, Móni continued:

“Do you need us to settle it right now or what? The dug having connections with Imperial commanders means nothing to us unlike you who has a reputation to hold.”

There was no way to tell what The Ante was expressing when nothing moved. Only his tapping fingers against one another gave any indication he was processing the offer, otherwise, Móni would have assumed she was talking to a corpse.

Finally, his gaping mouth moved just subtly enough to speak. “As tempting as the offer is, unfortunately, I cannot accept it.”

Móni could feel the deflated optimism behind her, except from one who pierced through the back of her head with an intense stare of expectance. She could only assume it was Baelis ready for an order involving his blaster.

“And why’s that?”

“Because the information has already been paid for.”

The room froze.

Betts exclaimed her disappointment, “Well that was a waste of time.”

“Paid for?” Móni eyed the infochant. “By who?”

“Now that information I was paid to keep silent about. But I was tasked to give the information to whoever asked for it. And no one asks for this since the Unknown Regions is a dangerous place to travel.”

He held out a holodisk.

“I don’t understand,” Móni ignored the disk held out to her. “Why are you telling us this?”

“Think of it as payment for sparing my life. I was told to prepare to die for this information when personally it’s not really something one should kill over.”

A group of bounty hunters stepped into the office with their blasters raised, and Avin, Baelis, and Myn stepped in front of Móni with theirs at the ready.

Astonished by their reflexes and agility, she stared at their encased formation with the purpose of protecting her. Móni couldn’t help but be a little flattered by the selfless act but understood what it actually meant for someone in her position.

She had power over them. The novel concept was settling in more and more.

Móni stepped between them and lowered Avin’s blaster.

“Do you know who we are?” she asked as she took the holodisk from his bony white fingers.

“Not a clue. And I could care less.”

“Whatever your client offered must have been impressive enough to put your life on the line.”

“They actually gave me no choice.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Móni turned to Betts. “For your troubles, we’ll give you the information we found on the dug.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I fail to see why.”

There was a gleam of mischief as she spoke. “If we find out you’re trying to identify us we’ll pay you another visit and finish the job properly. Best to keep your mouth shut, yeah?”

“Understood,” he took the storage device from Betts. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise.”

With the coordinates in place and on their way to the Unknown Regions, Móni tapped her finger on the armrest of the chair.

“This whole thing is a setup.”

“Obviously,” Myn was polishing his shoulder plate. “But we knew that from the start, didn’t we?”

“No. It’s more than whatever Maul expected. It was the Hutts who gave us this task didn’t they?”

“Lord Maul,” Baelis corrected. “And, yes.”

Móni bit her thumbnail going over every possibility of the obvious trap they’re going straight into. But if they could at least be one step ahead, then the situation could turn over to their favor.

“Baelis. Can you grab any information on the vessel we’re hijacking and who it belongs to? Send me whatever you find. I’ll be in my cabin.”

“You need to sleep or something?” Avin turned fast to her.

With half a mind to talk back with a snarky comment that sat at the tip of her tongue, she swallowed it and found the truthful route to be more profound.

“I’ll be meditating.”

Accustomed to having meditating sessions on D’Qar’s hard earth, Móni sat before her cot and meditated to ease her racing thoughts.

Kyp was safe, well, and working hard. He had become a little scam artist if he was offering services for chump change—Zione’s doing.

All she needed was to get to him without the Crimson Veil on her tail. Not an easy task with three observant Mandalorians who would die for Maul and his vision. Her escape would have to happen aboard the vessel where escape pods or preferably a starfighter would be located.

A part of her heart ached at the prospect and she couldn’t understand why.

In the short months that passed with the Crimson Veil, she settled into a routine of comfort and safety. At Maul’s side, even as his weapon, she knew she was untouchable. He went through great measures to remain hidden from the Empire while maintaining a growing presence in the underworld. It was impressive, to say the least.

But she had no freedom. She was chained to his methods, lifestyle, and habits.

It was eerily similar to being in a bad relationship minus the conversations. She knew nothing about him except what Avin shared and the crumb about his mother when they were in the ancient, Old Republic ship. Móni broke from the meditation and pinched the bridge of her nose.

It was not possible. It couldn’t be.

“Oh no…,” she moaned. “I want to know more about him.” Her body collapsed to the floor in defeat.

Betts rolled into the room. “Meditation going good I see.”

“I hate meditating. I think too much.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to think?”

“Good point.” Móni reset her position and tried again.

“Baelis gave me the information you asked for.”

“Great." Content to have something to do other than sitting around and doing nothing she motioned Betts to come over with the datapad. “This is a big commercial vessel.”

“You sound happy about that.”

“And they’ve got starfighters!”

“You’ve never flown a starfighter, why do you care?” Betts paused. “Oh. Making a grand escape?”

“I heard some customers in the Spire talk about a half theelin kid fixing ships. I know it’s Kyp. And he’s somewhere close. I can feel it.”

“And what makes you think Maul won’t hunt you down and kill the whole lot of you?”

“He won’t find us. Zione will make sure of that.”

“And the Mandalorians?”

“Avin is keeping an eye on me and he knows I’m hiding something. I wouldn’t put it past him if he mentioned something to his buddies.”

“I thought the two of you were friends?”

“We’re more like coworkers than friends.”

“And you and Maul?”

“Master and prisoner?”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Móni was distracted to press more on the subject when she continued scrolling through the datapad. “Vos Industries: a family corporation dedicated to combining arts and sciences to create functional décor that evokes life in your very home or office space. What’s an architect and interior design firm doing all the way in the Unknown Regions?”

She looked through images of the living family members of three siblings: two sisters and a brother. The eldest was President Eezula Vos, the brother was Chief Operating Officer Dryden Vos, and the youngest sister, Eylanis Vos, was recently married to a CEO of a labor union.

“This family could model for skin and hair holo-adverts.”

“They could pose as droids if they looked any more serious.”

“Hm. Let’s go for the middle child,” she selected Dryden.

The deeper her search into the male sibling went the more nefarious his dealings. Most of his operations were done behind the Empire’s back and there were many done in association with dignitaries and presidents who all committed similar crimes of smuggling, tax evasions, laundering, and so on.

“Think I found something. He’s had a history of transactions with the Hutt family, but nothing bad. He actually paid everything off. Organized guy.”

Betts and Móni sat in contemplative silence when it struck her. “Dryden is working with the Hutts to get rid of Maul. This vessel is just a diversion to split the Crimson Veil apart.”

“Apart from what? Isn’t Maul on D’Qar? No one knows we’re there.”

“Unless he isn’t. He doesn’t trust me enough to share everything with me. Not that I care.”

“But you do.”

Móni sniffed with indignation. “It won’t matter anymore once I leave this horrible syndicate for good.”

“You know, if you complete this task, you will have Maul’s trust.”

“I want to have a life again, not Maul’s trust.”

“A life in hiding and running away?”

“What are you trying to say, Betts?”

“You’re happy here.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You get to cook whatever you want. You’re physically active. And you have a chance of fulfilling your needs if you realized--“

Móni’s commlink activated with Myn’s voice. “Ma’am, we’re approaching the drop point.”

“I’ll be up there in a sec,” Móni released the commlink. “Oops. Too late to turn back now.”

“So, we’re still going forward with this?”

“It’s my ticket out of here, Betts. Of course, we’re still going.”

“I have the strangest feeling you haven’t decided what you want to do.”

“Droids don’t feel.”

“No need to be rude about it.”

On the bridge Móni had on a formfitting EVA suit and the transparisteel helmet under her arm. Amongst the crew she sensed some tension, including from Baelis.

“What’s wrong, guys?”

“If these coordinates are not accurate,” Baelis explained. “We could be led directly into a quasar.”

“Comet storm.”

“Solar storm.”

“Supernova.”

“Asteroid field.”

They exited hyperspace with only empty space and the stars before them.

“Oh, hey,” Myn chimed. “We’re okay.”

“Now what?” Avin wondered.

“We wait,” Baelis went through the console’s screen where the holodisk was plugged into. “The vessel should be making its way here within the next few hours. It seems we made good time.”

“Good time, he says,” Myn stretched. “What are we going to do in the next couple of hours?”

Outside the viewport, space vibrated with the Force of something heading their way. It rumbled in Móni’s ears and the stars quaked at its size.

“Get ready to board.”

“What?” Avin looked hard at the empty space then his console to see if he missed something. “There’s nothing out there.”

“A vessel is being brought out of hyperspace,” Baelis said.

“Gear up everyone." Móni patted her droid, "Betts, shut down the ship and keep it drifting under its hull.”

“You mean I’ll be staying here?”

“Yes, Betts.”

“Excellent.”

Out of hyperspace was a commercial vessel that could fit a planet’s entire resources. What more, it wasn’t the usual outdated ones but highly modified and well-maintained.

“I’m having serious doubts about this now,” Myn adjusted his helmet and neck seals.

Móni secured her dome helmet. “Don’t think about it and get a move on before they jump again.

In the silence of cold space, their boots were magnetized to the ship’s topside as they waited for the enormous structure to shadow over them.

Avin pointed to a droid port. “That’s a good way in. Here, put these on.”

He handed everyone a cylinder bolt that magnetized to their armor. When Móni attached it to her suit her body froze.

“I’m freezing!”

“Sorry. It’s meant to be placed on armor,” Avin explained. “But just wait it out until we get inside. It’s so they won’t detect lifeforms boarding the ship.”

Avin wrapped an arm around Móni’s waist as they jetpacked to the port. Baelis discovered a terminal masked behind a metal plate where he accessed the port’s functions via his vambrace. At this point a sheet of frost prickled and cracked up Móni’s clear dome.

“Hurry up,” she barely enunciated through shattering teeth.

Not a second later, Baelis did as she commanded and had the port opened. The moment they went inside she removed the bolt and slapped it onto Avin’s hand.

“Maybe make something that’s beneficial to those without durasteel or beskar alloy.”

“We gotta move before they check out why a droid port was opened,” Myn shuffled the two along the cramped space of the size of an asteroid droid and down the tunnel.

They exited into an empty corridor with not a droid or being in sight.

“Awfully quiet,” Myn said.

Móni retracted the dome from her head to feel her cheeks flush from the slight rise in temperature.

“Let’s check one of the rooms for a console to get a map of the ship.”

“Already done.” With swift fingers, Baelis transferred what was downloaded onto his vambrace onto a handheld holomap device. “It only took long outside so I could acquire this information.”

“You’re arguably better than a droid,” Móni was in awe.

His body went stiff and turned away fast. “The bridge is this way.”

As he led the way, Móni put what she trained to the test and felt out for any lifeforms in the area. There weren’t any within their vicinity nor when she stretched her senses further out. She couldn’t be sure if it was a lack of skill she couldn’t feel anything or if something was truly off.

“Bealis. Did you happen to get anything about the crew?”

“Commercial vessels are usually worked by a small crew with only limited living spaces for them. The purpose of the vessel’s size is only meant to store resources.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t find the information vital enough to recover.”

“Thanks for asking your leader whether it was vital or not.”

He stopped and towered over her. “Is there a problem with my methods?”

“The problem is I don’t sense any lifeforms in this thing.”

“They could all be at the bridge. Like I said. Small crew.”

“Oh?” Myn ogled. “You do have Jedi-like abilities like Lord Maul.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Móni patted his shoulder. “He’d definitely kill you for that.”

“What? Say what?” Myn held in his panic. “What shouldn’t I say?”

“We are here,” Baelis announced.

In a seamless switch, the Mandalorians’ lax forms turned defensive as they unholstered their blasters, except Avin who prepped smoke grenades between his fingers.

“You don’t have a weapon?” Avin was the first to ask and discover.

“You only noticed now?”

“Wait. What?” Myn was perplexed. “Not even a lightsaber?”

“Haven’t earned it yet, I guess.”

“And here I thought you were being spiteful by letting us do all the dirty work.”

“I never asked you to do anything. You’re just really good at your job.”

“I think it may have more to do with the fact it’s what Lord Maul expects of us and it’s become a habit.”

There was a sourness in Avin’s tone Bealis did not approve and he bit back at all of them, Móni included. “Are we ready or shall we wait here longer to have this mission complete itself?”

“You’re right,” Móni blinked without expression. “Do your thing.”

The bridge was empty, and it did not settle well with Móni.

“What was that you said about the crew being on the bridge?”

“It was a calculative assumption, not a fact.”

“Hate to say this, bud,” Myn scanned the area with his blaster prepped to fire. “But you’re wrong this time around.”

Baelis remained silent, but Móni felt him seething silently underneath the helmet.

“I’ll check the console for what we’re looking for,” Avin approached the main computers.

A chill ran down Móni’s spine and felt the stillest sense of life hunkered patiently in the shadows.

“Stop,” she raised a hand. “We’re being watched.”

“Can you tell how many?” Avin asked.

She tilted her head and felt the room, which was devoid of life, but when she pushed further there was something large lurking above them and their intentions were malevolent.

“One.”

“That’s not too bad?” Myn attempted to elevate the situation.

Móni hoped it wasn’t, because the creature was fouler and more unhinged than Maul. Its lust for violence fogged the air and made her lungs clench in desperation. She needed to draw it out and foil some part of its plans—if it was hiding it could mean there were surprises laid out in the room for them.

She raised the clear dome over her head and spoke into the commlink meant for their ears only.

“I think it's in the vents above us. We need to draw it out, otherwise, we’re playing right into its hands.”

“I can smoke him out.”

“Spread out and make it seem like you’re checking the area. We can’t have it suspect anything.”

They wanted to ask. She knew very well they wanted to ask what was possibly up there that could make her so anxious. But like the honor-bound warriors they were, they obeyed in silence.

“Trust me,” she whispered to them. “This thing could be worse than our illustrious leader.”

They did not stop and made no show of intimidation, but she felt their heightened alertness.

Móni stayed where she was and continued to feel out the shadow and pinpoint its exact location.

Further. Further left. Left corner.

It was in the back left corner, monitoring everything from its perch.

Trepidation sunk into her bones, but at Baelis’ direction.

“Baelis! Stop!”

He took another step that sunk lower into the floor. The switch initiated a transparent tube that rose around him and trapped him in place. Avin and Myn were ready to sprint at their comrade, but Móni held both hands out to them.

“Not another step or else we’ll all be stuck here.”

With resigned hesitation, they did as they were told, but panic stirred in them when a centipede creature slithered down the ceiling, dripping acid from its red pincers. Its thick black and yellow body was large enough to squeeze around a limb and its hundreds of little legs gave away a merciless succession of taps on the tube. What was most daunting was the Mandalorian armor sizzling from the drops of acid.

Baelis fired some bolts but it ricocheted off its skin and returned to the chest plate that made him stumble back hard. His head lulled to the side from the impact which the centipede took well advantage of.

“Móni, we have to do something!” Avin took a step and his foot sunk in.

In a blink of an eye, he was vaulted to the ceiling by a cable around his neck, wrists, and ankles. Slowly the cables were tightening around his flesh to where his gasps for breath were audibly loud in Móni’s ears through the commlink.

“Don’t shoot!” Móni commanded Myn who aimed his blaster at a cable. “Don’t do anything.”

“I’m not going to watch them die! I don’t care if your Maul’s favorite.”

“Oh, please,” she muttered.

The centipede had its body wrapped around Bealis’ neck and tightening its grasp.

Móni closed her eyes and raised a hand.

Focus. Gotta Focus.

The Force swelled around her with its disgustingly cold caresses and purity. It steadied her shaking hand, then whispered to her in all the languages of the galaxy and the sex of none. She couldn’t comprehend what was being said, nor did she care.

Every effort was on saving her comrades.

Then a small voice spoke louder than the Force. It was her. Her own consciousness persuading her.

Let them die.

Móni didn’t deny the logic. If they died, then she was free. She had no commitment to them or the Crimson Veil. However, she wasn’t certain she could face this foe on her own. In a sense, she needed them to get her off the death trap.

They were more useful to her alive than dead.

In a flurry of hatred towards herself and the Force, she shattered the tube then gripped the centipede. It writhed under the invisible grasp, but it tightened around Baelis’ neck rather than loosen. She returned to the time she accidentally killed Mayishka’s grandson and remembered how it felt to control him.

But she did not want to control. She wanted to kill. She could crush it, but the acid would seep through the armor and kill Bealis.

With the Force encompassed around her, her senses were heightened and could hear the faintest and smallest thumps of the insect’s beating hearts. Móni took hold of the fragile tube and ruptured it.

The centipede slumped without life beating through it.

With Avin she took a hold of the ceiling plate he was strapped to and brought it down with great force. With him came down a wire of cables fixated to a sophisticated mechanism that she pulled down as well and tossed to the side. She had almost forgotten to cushion Avin’s fall, but she caught him in time before he struck the ground. With the strength of her own hands, she tore apart the cables and released him from his hold.

She took his smoke grenades and threw them into the gaping hole she created. She pulled down more plates and threw more in until she was satisfied with the entrapment. A veil of smoke masked the corner the lurking creature laid in wait, and it did not take long until a shadow fell.

Baelis grunted behind Móni, rubbing his sore neck and the scorched mark on his chest plate. Avin scrambled to his feet and threw several sensors to the ground and readied his hand over his vambrace. Myn took the helm alongside Móni to cover his wounded comrades.

Móni retracted the dome and the muffled footfalls became clear. It was heavy. Patient. And cautious. When it closed in on the edge of the thick veil of smoke, a large shadow without a head disappeared amidst the fog. The blood ran cold in her veins.

She could not sense it.

Myn pulled down his thermoscope over his visor to scan the room.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Its probably able to mask itself from our sensors.” Avin was livid. He checked and doubled checked his vambrace panel. But nothing activated the sensors he threw to the ground. Nothing was reaching their tiny area of safety.

Unless it wasn’t.

Móni diverted her attention to her feet. There was the slightest vibration coursing up her legs and noticed the faintest line circling them.

“Scatter!”

But the moment she gave away where they stood the floor opened. Her reflexes were quick enough to Force push the men out of the way, but the darkness ate her whole.

-

Maul and his entourage of Mandalorians were parked with their speeder spikes on the outskirts of deforested and shriveled land. Scattered throughout were mobile shelters where the sugi’s moved in and out from with their insectoid seeming bodies. In the center of the terrain was a crevice were towers of metal contraptions steamed and whirred from working deep into the earth.

Without a word, Maul passed through the sugi’s property and was stopped by a male human wearing minimal armor and a blaster.

“Hold it right there. You don’t have authorization to tread through here.” He stopped when the air was cut off from his lungs and he scratched at his own throat when there was nothing gripping onto it. His body lifted from the ground and brought to the zabrak’s fierce features.

They were circled by more security and their blasters raised.

“Take me to your leader.”

They were escorted by untrained security personnel who made weak attempts to back off the hoard of sugis who wanted to tear off Maul’s last two limbs. They hissed curses and blasphemous remarks towards him and the Mandalorians who seemed expressionless underneath their helmets. Their anger only stretched his lips wider into a sneering smile.

In the only facility constructed with some thought was the leader’s den of cohorts lavishing in their money with drugs, alcohol, and females. And sitting several levels above the main floor was the king of this dead plot of land. Like the rest of his kind, he wore a ventilation mask, but it was embossed with designs and made with expensive metals that shimmered in the dim lights. His beady eyes locked onto Maul’s as he took a large inhale of narcotics from a hose and through a port in his mask.

“Ah,” he exhaled a thick fume as it encompassed his hairless and shriveled pale head. “The leader of the Crimson Veil finally stands before me. What an honor.”

“Vyaz Zhet,” Maul stood firm and straight, charging the room with his own authority and on par with the sugi leader. “The galaxy’s prime military arms dealer. We meet at last.”

“And uninvited. Is this all you brought with you? Watered down warriors who have been ousted by their own people?”

“Where your kind are not warriors at all but leeches and vermin.”

The insult raised a stir amongst the assembly and Rook took the opportunity to speak under her breath.

“He knew we were coming.”

Maul knew without Rook having to say anything. The worm was far too calm by the “uninvited” visit.

Vyaz quieted the rabble with a slight raise of a hand.

“Are you here to kill me as you did to the other leaders of arms dealer factions?”

“No,” Maul was not discouraged from the turn of events, but he kept his vigilance. Currently, there were no threats to be concerned for, yet. “Killing you would ruin the balance amongst the crime syndicates, and that balance is the only thing that stands between the Empire and their destruction.”

The sugi tapped his mask with the hose’s nozzle. “You wish to be a part of the crime families. And you want to control me.”

“Your options are limited, Vyaz,” Maul glowered. “I can eradicate every feeble creature here and leave you standing alone on top of the rubble of your great empire. Or you answer to me.”

The sluggish imp shook with laughter that incited the rest of the room to laugh with him.

“Is this how the so-called “horned fiend” has been inciting unrest amongst the crime families? You’re more of a pathetic nuisance than you are a threat if you ask me. No. I will not answer to you, Lord Maul,” he spat. “Nor will I ever. The families have given me a more compelling offer to remain under their rule. Today is the day Crimson Veil falls and it starts with the Lieutenant you sent on a suicide mission to an empty commercial ship.”

The Mandalorians stiffened at the revelation.

Maul did not even break a twitch.

So. Their plan was to lure us out of hiding and separate us.

“Hm.” Maul eased his poised stance and called his lightsaber to his hand. “Then it seems we have reached an impasse.”

“I may sell weapons, but my people have no combat skills. So,” he pressed a button on the arm of his chair.

Maul caught wind of his movement. He ignited his lightsaber then flung it as a spinning disc at the arm holding the narcotic hose and severed it along with the tube that connected to his ventilation mask.

Vyaz struggled a scream at the singed stump and his cut life support. While some of his cohorts ran to his aid to repair the mask, his black eyes gleamed at the zabrak and his well-armored guard trapped in a cubed ray shield.

“Mark my words,” he forced his voice to be heard while the air struggled to return to his fat, frail body. “When the Dimachaeri is through with your little party he will come and slaughter the lot of you. And he’s faced your kind before,” he pointed at Maul. “And has had the satisfaction of killing them all.”

Rook clicked her tongue with annoyance. “That woman is as good as dead.”

When Vyaz was carried off by his lackeys, wailing and blithering nonsense on his hatred for the Crimson Veil, they were left in an empty room.

“Not even a security guard around,” Rook mused. “Not that they could do much.”

She motioned one of her men to bring down their antennae and scope the area with the rangefinder. They zoomed in above them where the ray shield emitted from.

“Sir, once we figure what kind of ray shield we’re trapped in, we’ll be free before anyone comes back.”

Maul nodded but was distracted by a presence that had appeared in the room. The creature was violent in nature and riveted with lust for combat. It was far more sinister than Master Sidious who masterfully controlled his compulsions. This was chaos. There was no control to be found.

“It seems the hired thug grew impatient,” Maul eyed a shadowed corner where the creature lied in wait. It was watching them. Its patience growing thin but waiting for them to escape the ray shield.

“A hunter.”

“Got it!” Rook took a grenade and softly pressed it to the ceiling, lifting it through the ray shield with one finger.

“Ma’am I think we should be the ones to,” a soldier inquired for his Commander’s safety but was cut short by her temper.

“Quiet.”

Slowly, slowly she pushed it through with only the part of the grenade where her finger rested on remained. The warrior who spoke put his hands to his helmet in destress while the others stared in silence with their arms crossed.

Rook popped the grenade with the one finger above the ray shield and she stared with satisfaction at the sitting ball. With her vambrace she activated it and an electric pulse shocked the ray shield’s systems, setting them free.

Maul recalled his lightsaber from the end of the room and emitted the red blades on either side.

“And so, it begins,” the creature spoke with vile elation with an aged, raspy voice.

Little did the creature know, Maul considered with his own internal glee, it had never faced something like him before.

A Sith.

Chapter Text

“What is the source of your hatred?” Maul asked Móni one afternoon after she finished running through a rigorous training course through the hot and humid jungle.

“What?” she panted and wiped the sweat off her brow with her soaked top.

“When you call upon the Force, what is it you are drawing upon?”

Móni slumped onto a tree stump, puzzled by the question. “I don’t know what you mean. I just use it.”

The moment she uttered the words there was an instant sense of regret. Maul froze, his stare illuminated wide with utter bafflement and anger.

“Are you saying,” he began, making sure every word came clearly across, “you’ve been using the Force without knowing how you’ve done it?”

“Is there supposed to be a trick to it?”

“Not a trick,” he snarled. “Emotions are what is used to draw upon it.”

“Oh.” Móni leaned back on her arms for support and considered it thoroughly. “I guess that makes more sense about the Jedi and Sith. I thought the Sith were angry just to be angry, and the Jedi were boring. Hasn’t there been anyone who used the Force with every emotion?”

“That’s not possible. Certain emotions call upon certain attributes of the Force. Mixing it all will create chaos and lack of control.”

“Sounds like me,” Móni laughed.

“Yes.” Maul was not pleased by the fact. “Returning to the question. What do you feel when you use the Force?”

Móni blew away a strand of curls out of her eye. Her attention moved from Maul to wander elsewhere and decide whether it was time to face the truth. To say it aloud.

I hate the Force. I hate using it.

But then it would spiral into a longer interrogation she would rather not get into for many of the answers required delving into her past, and she would rather avoid that part of her life as much as possible. She finally settled on a half-truth. A truth she personally needed to mend and to speak it for the first time could awaken something within her. Even if it was to him. In fact, it was better with him. Maul didn’t show pity or empathy. He was harsh and maybe that was all she needed. A harsh reality.

Somewhat embarrassed by it, she drew a circle in the dirt with her foot to create a mild distraction. “Hate for myself.”

He was silent for a moment which stirred a well of anxiousness in the pit of her stomach. She refused to raise her head and stare into yellow pools of disgust and accusations of weakness.

Then he spoke.

“Far above, far below. We don’t know where we’ll fall. Far above, far below. What once was great is rendered small.”

She didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not something so…

“Poetic.” Móni wasn’t sure if it was the adage that gripped her, or if it was how he interpreted it. For something so simple there was perfection in how he uttered it. He had recited it to himself more times than anyone could count. His whole life possibly. What confounded her the most was her inability to read his thoughts. Something far, far away was reeling past him; a memory, she assumed. Móni licked her lips, prepared to ask what was making him make such an unreadable expression, but he beat her to it.

“In the greater scheme of things, we are nothing." Maul, a male of average height stood taller than any tree in the jungle. “Or so my master would say.”

“You mean, he called you nothing.”

A shiver went down her spine from the intensity of his stare. To her disappointment, he did not take the bait to pursue the topic of himself.

“Do you wish to remain small? Insignificant?”

“I want to be...”

Free

But she would never be free with Palpatine’s shadow looming across the whole galaxy. Not with the way she was.

“I want to be strong enough to face him.”

“And you will. If you continue to follow my teachings, apprentice.”

“What once was great is rendered small, right?”

***

Gravity sucked Móni into the unknown depths of the massive vessel. Her scream was caught in her throat and the air escaped her lungs as she fell into nothing.

The feeling was familiar. An image of herself in the stingy studio in the Abolition, alone and unhinged, flashed through her memories. A face she hid from Kyp, and a side Zione had never seen. But he’s seen it. He saw that woman and the mess she was. And he didn’t care. He only cared about what she was capable of.

What did he see? Because all she saw was a woman who stared out a window and watched her life pass by without color. Without sound. Without feeling.

She felt now. More than she had ever felt in years. Using the Force was what brought it all back since emotion was an essential element to control it. Although, Master pushed severely for hatred and anger.

Móni couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the thought of him. He took everything so seriously it was laughable.

If I died there would be nothing left to worry about. Kyp is safe with Zione.

Then there he was, creating her future from the ground up.

A future.

It was a bloody and controlling one, but it was there. Ready for her to take hold of. And she would be lying to herself if she denied her curiosity of what was to come.

Móni gathered the Force around her and lifted her falling form to an upright position. Since the day Maul berated her for not cushioning her falls, she had practiced the concept enough times to be able to land on air.

Unsure of when the end began, Móni braced herself for a sloppy impact and attempted to envision a base in the Force. Behind closed eyes, a blinking blue light along the wall appeared in her vision. When she opened them, there was a dim flash coming in fast. She slowed her decent and grasped on to an exposed ledge.

The flashing light came from a panel. There was a chance it was a signal for her to notice and be lured into a trap behind the door, but her instincts felt differently. Somehow, she knew the signal was only meant for her.

She was led into a maintenance shaft that descended and ascended into shadows and a bolted ladder as the only way to traverse through it. Above was the faintest glow of white light, which she climbed after, at the end of the shaft where there was another panel for the circular exit that spiraled open.

Móni climbed out onto polish finished flooring and a dark hallway. When she closed in on a door nearest her, she examined the round frame’s decorated and intricate silver designs of vines and leaves. In her peripheral, the hall flashed with the same blinking blue light on a door’s panel that led into an extravagant room meant for royalty.

Curious, Móni pressed her hand onto the bed and it sunk into the soft mattress. The vessel’s owners clicked and assumed she was led to their suite.

Then there was the flashing light on the computer console for an incoming transmission. Before she had the opportunity to let it through the light switched to green.

Móni’s breath held in her chest when she hoped who it was on the other end.

The seconds of silence dragged, neither able to speak.

Until finally…

“Móni?”

The voice was meek and new. His voice cracked from puberty and it was proof of the time they had spent apart.

"Kyp," she grinned. There was so much and yet so little to say. Nothing could express the unbridled joy of hearing his adolescent voice. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“Same.” She could hear his smile, though there was a hint of sadness to it.

If she had all the time in the world, Móni would be raising a storm of questions and assume their usual battles of quips he was so fond of.

‘You don’t treat me like a kid. You treat me like a person. Like everyone else,’ he would say.

But lives were on the line now, and although she saved the Mandalorians from the fall, she couldn’t be sure she saved them from that creature. Unless she didn’t have to save them.

“Are you part of this death trap?”

“Who else can implement devices of that caliber into a ship?” He said proudly. “Although, I didn’t expect you to be a part of this.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“I’m not. Zione investigated the zabrak who took you away. We know he’s the Crimson Veil’s leader.” He paused. And it was a meticulous pause at that. “Kinda figured you would have escaped a while ago.”

“That’s what I’m planning to do now. Are there any escape pods or starfighters?”

“One. It belongs to the Dimachaeri. He got rid of everything else.”

“You mean the hunchback who lurks in the shadows? We’ve met.”

“I know. I’ve been watching since your little infiltration into the ship.”

“Are you helping him?”

“Supposed to be. He is my client.”

“That complicates things.”

“You have no idea. But he doesn’t know about this area of the ship, so you’re safe for now. He’s hunting you.”

“Did he kill the Mandalorians?”

“No. Went straight for you after you fell through my trap.”

“Proud of it, are you? Sensed it before it opened up.”

“I noticed…,” Kyp stated with concern. “You have those… abilities. Like dad.”

“Yeah,” Móni rubbed the back of her neck. “A lot has happened.”

“Clearly. But do you know who you’re dealing with? Zione and I don’t hear good things about the Crimson Veil’s horned fiend. He’s become an issue to many important folks in the underworld.”

“Did the Hutts hire the Dimachaeri?”

“Obviously. They want him gone. He’s inciting a war between the crime families and they’re not happy.”

“For the months I spent with him, I still don’t know a thing about him. I think he sent me here knowing what the outcome could be.”

“He’s testing you?”

“I’m not sure. He’s not as simple as that.”

“You’re working for a murderer, Móni. Borderline psychopath. His kind is never simple.”

Móni pinched her brows together. “He’s not a psychopath. He’s crazy. I think I may have called him psycho once, but there’s more to him than he lets on.”

“Móni,” Kyp groaned.

“What?”

Kyp sighed. “Listen. I can help you get off this ship, but if you run into the big guy, you’re on your own. I can’t compromise myself when he’s paying me good money for this.”

“Can you do me one last favor?”

“What is it?”

“I need to get into contact with the guy who owns this ship.”

“About that…”

“It’s stolen isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Perfect. I can work with that.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but my digital fingerprints are written all over this vessel and if it’s sent back, Zione and I are dead. Especially since it was stolen with the cargo still inside.”

“If this goes according to how I plan, then you and Zione will have nothing to worry about. I assume you’re not on the ship?”

“Of course, I’m not, and what do you mean ‘nothing to worry about’? There’s always something to worry about when you’re involved in a crazy scheme.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“What is this for anyway?”

“It’s for…” Móni trailed off. “Me?”

“Móni. Do you really want to come to us?”

“Do you not want me to?”

Kyp stuttered and stumbled over his next set of words, then went silent.

“Hey, stranger,” Zione’s voice filled the room with a sensation Móni could only describe as cold.

“Hey to you too.”

“What are you going to do with this information? Give it to Maul?”

“Well--"

“Why?”

Móni shrugged and forced her words. “It’s what I was sent here to do, and if I give him what he wants then he shouldn’t be too upset about me abandoning him.”

“If you really wanted to come back to us, you wouldn’t be torn between us and that monster.”

“He’s not,” she hung her head and listened to herself. She was defending him. Baelis’ loyalty was rubbing off on her. Must have been. “I don’t know what he is, exactly. But I know I’m discovering something about myself I can’t explain. That’s what’s tearing me apart.”

“We’ve always known you were different, Móni. Including Kyp’s father. But is he the right choice?”

U’lis?

A memory she had long forgotten from one of their nights together flashed across her vision:

“You know,” he began while he took a curl between his fingers. “You are unlike anything I’ve ever felt.”

“Are we talking about the sex or something else?” Móni tried her best to veer away whatever he was piecing together.

But U’lis, so accustomed to her charms, laughed it off and continued. “Something else, silly woman. Are you sure you’re not Force-sensitive?”

“Absolutely.”

The theelin male hummed his acceptance of the answer with an undertone of suspicion.

Móni slapped her thighs to denote the change of subject. “You hungry? I’ll go make something.”

She jumped out of her bed, threw on a few articles of clothing and sped into the kitchenette. When she took a pan from a cupboard, her hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Móni shook her head from his scent that lingered from the memory and recalled D’Qar’s native leader and the dream vision they shared. He had mentioned Maul’s involvement was a choice she made, and how her life would have been different if she chose otherwise. The only thing not making her regret it was his lack of criticism on it. He seemed almost… pleased. What would it mean if she abandoned Maul now?

Your future could have been very different and simple. But you chose the unexpected one.

What does this mean for me?

What does this mean for the galaxy and the Force, you mean?

“Zione, I think,” she licked her dry lips. “I think I’ve barely scratched the surface of understanding what I am.”

“Hate to cut the conversation,” Kyp audibly shoved Zione aside with his hoverchair. “But he’s making his way towards you! Set your commlink to this frequency,” as he said it numbers displayed on the holoscreen. “I’ll help you as much as I can, but he’ll most likely catch on you’re making your way to his ship.”

“So much for not knowing about this area. See you guys soon.”

Móni exited the room and followed Kyp’s instructions through the commlink. When she made it to the elevator at the end of the hall labored breaths echoed from every direction and the air shrieked from metal scraping along the walls.

Then it was silent.

Even Kyp held his breath.

“I don’t know where he is,” he whispered, even when there was no need for him to.

“Ah,” another voice spoke into Móni’s commlink. It was deep and rasped with age. She could hear the toothy grin when he continued with a sensation that shook her. “Have I been betrayed? By a brat?”

His amusement ended when he exposed Kyp. Zione’s curses picked up in the distance followed by demands to end the transmission. However, the teen was reluctant and held his ground.

Móni removed the commlink in her ear and crushed it, severing all communications with her lifeline.

The doors to the elevator opened behind her and she stepped back into it without losing attention on the dark hallway.

“Was that really a smart thing to do?”

His hot breath hit the back of her neck.

He towered over her, a stark shadow that blocked the only light emanating from within the lift with his wide and hunched form. There was a metallic glimmer where his face would be, and she deduced it was a mask that encompassed his face entirely.

She inched away and stared long and hard at the creature.

I can’t sense him.

“I know that face,” he rasped with a dry laugh. “They all make the same expression. When a Jedi realizes their death.”

This was no longer an escape.

Móni planted her feet to the ground.

He’ll kill Kyp and Zione.

She filled her lungs with air and steadied her racing heart.

He needs to die.

Fear. Anger. Hatred. They are tools. They are your allies.

Maul’s teachings resonated through her. She was afraid for her life and Kyp’s, but it was more than fear and anger that swirled inside her. There was a desperate need to protect someone she was responsible for and she held onto that feeling. Her muscles strained under her skin and the blood was hot in her veins.

There was only one option: victory.

The Dimachaeri noticed the change in her straightened stature and squared shoulders. The woman found her resolve. They always did.

Móni reacted first with a Force push that pinned him inside the elevator. She held him there pushing his body further into it and bending the elevator’s metal.

The pressure was directly on his chest, stifling the air to his lungs, but rather than panic he coughed a laugh.

“My, my. You are fierce.”

His laugh, meant to mock, had an undertone to it Móni did not ignore. She glanced at his hands which were decorated with claw finger armor and one of them held a detonator switch.

She extended her senses to the area directly around her and above her was a magnetized microdetonator without an active light to indicate its presence. It one swift motion she jumped back and pulled the Dimachaeri forward the moment he pressed his trap.

But he too was quick to react, and his body collided with the closed elevator door.

The explosion made a haze of smoke, but Móni picked up on the distinct hiss of the elevator opening and closing. However, the silhouette of the creature was absent.

When Móni instinctively reached out to sense him, she felt nothing.

The Dimachaeri was under the impression he’s fighting a Jedi, therefore, his tactics were designed to combat someone who was Force-sensitive. Whether it was a trick up his sleeve or a biological trait, he knew clouding his presence would create a certain imbalance to a Jedi who trained relentlessly in the arts of the Force.

Móni couldn’t help a grin spread large over her features.

Finally, an excuse not to rely on the Force. She was going to give him a battle he would least expect.

***

“Móni, come here.” 

A robust, Devaronian female motioned to a child no more than ten years of age.

They were hidden within the jungle’s tall foliage staring out into a small clearing with grass, blue orchids, and a pond. Only the insects and birds accompanied the tranquility and silence of the area.

Móni bent her head in every way. “I don’t see anything.”

Her mother smiled and put her finger to her lips. “Lower your voice.”

“Why? There’s nothing around.”

“You sure about that?” She prepped her two-meter long energy pike in her hand as it vibrated to life.

“I can sense the area... If I can.”

When the Devaronian raised her pike and planted it into the dirt, Móni held her breath. But nothing came as the older female hung her head in thought, the free strands of ebony hair with a violet tint masking the scolding eyes.

“It was just a thought,” Móni hurried to save herself from another lecture. “Momma, I swear.”

Finally, black eyes met her daughter’s brighter ones. “Put your hand to the ground.”

Confused from the lack of reprimand, Móni didn’t follow suit immediately.

“Come on, girl, don’t keep me waiting. We’ve got dinner to catch.” She nodded when Móni pressed her small hand to the moss and dirt. “Dig your fingers into it and close your eyes. Tell me what you feel. And don’t use the Force,” she clarified sternly.

Móni closed her eyes and felt nothing but the soft mineral under her nails. Then the faintest vibration touched the nerves of her fingertips. She gasped and pulled away. 

“Something is coming!”

“Good,” Móni’s mother chuckled. “Now, look at the pond.”

There seemed nothing abnormal about it. It was still and untouched. 

“What am I looking at?” Móni squinted.

“The waves.”

“Waves?”

Móni moved lower to the ground to be at level with the water’s flat surface and there was the slightest movement on its surface.

“I see it!”

“Móni." Her mother placed a hand on the free curls, picking off a leaf that had been tangled in it. “You don’t need to rely on the Force. It is powerful, yes, but most of the galaxy has been able to survive and grow without it. Our ancestors relied on what can be seen and felt. What we can smell and taste. Our own strength can be just as powerful as any Force wielder. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Momma.”

“What is it?”

“You see, sometimes it tells me I need to use it, so I can synchronize better with it."

The pike’s shaft strained from her mother’s grip.

“Momma?”

The Devaronian’s chest heaved with deep breaths. Something much more powerful had a hold of her daughter, and there was nothing in the universe that could stop it. Nothing could tear away from its infatuation over Móni. And as she grew older, the more aware of its presence she became--of what it wanted. Soon, she and her wife’s greatest fear would happen, and they would lose Móni to a power no one had control over.

***

Her focus went into the soles of her feet to feel the ground vibrate from the creature’s weight. When she felt nothing, her attention went to the wall. She placed the tips of her fingers on it and there was the slightest tremor mixed with taps from his metal claws. When they ceased, she pulled away and honed-in on the hairs on the back of her neck which grazed wind.

Móni sidestepped and shifted her torso as she watched a gleaming claw miss her face. From the proximity, she took advantage to examine her opponent who wore a mask with shaded lenses and a vent for his mouth and nose. Every inch of his massive form was covered in black except for his thick tail that had blades surgically implanted along the line of the vertebrae.

When he stretched out a digitigrade leg with clawed feet, he whipped his tail at her legs, which Móni dodged by aptly bringing her knees to her chest. At a disadvantage in midair, the Dimachaeri swiped at her again with his tail, this time aiming at the side of her head—blades first.

She brought an arm up to defend her head and a blade lodged itself into her forearm and the force of the whip pushed her to the wall. Móni sucked in her scream and gripped the tail with her free hand. The Dimachaeri struggled against her iron grip and lost in the battle of strength when she dislodged the blade. In one swift motion, she grabbed onto a blade and ripped it out spewing purple liquid down her hand and floor.

The creature yelled in rage and failed in an attempt to free his tail. He swiped a claw at her, but she bent back and ripped out another blade.

Her hands were wet with red and purple blood and no longer had a proper grip to pull the blades. But before the Dimachaeri could lunge at her in a screaming fit, she inhaled and swung his massive body off the ground and to the adjacent wall.

The direct impact on his head had him struggle to stand which Móni did not hesitate from the advantage. She gripped his head and smashed his face to the wall, cracking his mask.

Again.

The mask chipped away and blemished skin with oozing purple liquid peeked through.

Again!

Blinded by the imminent victory, Móni did not see the creature pull out an electro-shock prod from its cloak and pressed it against her calf.

The lack of warning and shock opened Móni’s mouth into a scream she could not compress as the blue electricity immobilized her muscles. She fell to the ground; the scent of singed hairs and fabric wafted her senses and her ears were stuffed with a high pitched ring.

Get up.

If she listened to her consciousness closely enough, it almost sounded like Maul berating her for taking too long to stand and spar again.

The battle isn’t over until one of you is dead.

Móni coughed and spat saliva onto the cold floor. Her bones ached and her muscles were sore from the one shock that utterly drained her energy, withering her fighting spirit along with it. With her ear to the ground, the Dimachaeri’s metal claws scraped across the ground making their way towards her.

Get up! You’re not done yet.

She heaved herself up. The hardest part was over. Móni stood on shaky legs and looked down on the pitiful and deformed lump. Half of his mask was shattered away and exposed mutilated yellow, scaly skin and ragged sharp teeth as he snarled at her. His gray eyes with star-like pupils filled her with violence and his resolve to end her life imminently.

“You’re not like any Jedi I’ve ever fought. You fight to kill. What are you?”

“I’m a part-time cook. Part-time apprentice.”

He spat blood and eyed her dangerously. “Don’t wanna say? No matter. You’ll be dead soon.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me.”

“The boy may think he has control of the ship, but he’s not aware of the few little enhancements I made myself. He won’t save you this time.”

“Not unless I kill you first.”

“Do you know where this suite is located? It is at the vessel’s highest level; above all others to mark the family’s status over their workers and peers. But it’s also a separate ship to make an escape if necessary. I had planned on using it to destroy whatever got away or the entire vessel itself, but I think I’m going to use it just for you.”

“Destroy?” Móni wondered at the meaning of the word.

“This is exactly what’s going to happen. You’re going to be left here without fuel and without any means of communication. And then, alone in the cold and dark depths of space, you will combust with nothing else to add to your legacy.”

“So, you admit you can’t win against me.”

“My dear. This was never going to be a fair fight. I’m much too old for that.”

A hole opened beneath him and he fell through leaving Móni alone in the hall. Not a moment later she stumbled from the sudden jerk forward. She sprinted to the elevator, but the controls were destroyed and the door sealed shut.

In a call for desperation, she used the Force to force the door open but was met with a ray shield blocking her only exit. When that failed, she stood where the Dimachaeri fell through and warped the floor with the Force but was met with another ray shield. And the shaft Kyp led her through had the same result.

If this was a ship, then there was a cockpit. Móni sprinted to the other end of the hall where another door was at the end of with the control panel blinking red alerting her of it been disabled. But with the Force she shoved it aside and beyond was the cockpit and a viewport that very clearly showed the ship was being detached from the main vessel. And as the Dimachaeri promised, there was no fuel left for her to run the ship and all communications have been severed.

“Kriff!” She brought her fists down onto the control panel, deeply denting it.

All airlocks and ports were located a level below her, access to them blocked by shields, and there was not a single escape pod.

There was only one option left.

In an emergency compartment were medpacks, stimulants, ration bars, and multipurpose sealers. Móni chewed on a ration bar while she used a pen-shaped cauterizer on the wound of her forearm, then proceeded to seal the fabric of the suit with a gel-like consistency.

She stared at the viewport and brought the transparent dome over her head.

“Let’s do this.”

-

Maul could not discern what species the creature was. It carried a heavy tail with surgically implanted blades and a noticeable hunch from age and biology. He ran through digitigrade humanoids in his head: fosh, kilmaulsi, lasat, kaleesh… but none of them carried the listed features of the unknown before him. Not if it mattered. It was dead the moment it falsely defined Maul as a Jedi.

When he illuminated his dual-bladed lightsaber, Maul felt nothing from the Dimachaeri, merely a slight inclination of the head.

Strange.

The creature made the first move by flinging a vibroblade that Maul easily sidestepped from, but when it motioned for something on its arm, he understood the misguided toss was on purpose.

“Jump!” Rook ordered her men and forewarned Maul of the explosive implanted behind him.

And so, he leaped—the explosion missing him—high above the Dimachaeri who remained where it stood to observe the zabrak. Fear, serenity, anger, harmony: nothing. Maul felt nothing from it. Not even the bloodlust he had so strongly felt moments before.

When he brought down his lightsaber--when he couldn’t possibly consider what the creature had hidden in its cloak--a deflector shield was ignited from his forearm and took Maul’s attack. Then it shoved his arms to the side to create an opening for its armored claws to reach Maul’s neck.

But Maul released a hand to Force choke the miserable creature and brought it to its knees.

Nothing. Still nothing.

It was aggravating and almost like he was being mocked at. With the mask and the lack of emotions, he could have been battling a droid rather than a living being. But its gasps and chokes were organic enough, and Maul knew what he felt earlier. He understood all too well the impatience to battle something worthy, and a thirst that could only be quenched with victory.

But it was nothing he felt and nothing that looked back at him. Amid his failure to understand, he tightened his hold, and even then its strength against the lightsaber did not waver, holding Maul in place.

It coughed a laugh. “You’re no Jedi,” it rasped.

“No. I’m far more dangerous,” Maul hissed at him. “And powerful.”

“Good. A fight to the death.”

The Dimachaeri’s tail whipped at Maul’s extended arm, which he was forced to retract and released the creature from his hold. From its cloak it withdrew a magnetic bomb, which Maul reacted quickly against and Force pushed the creature away from him.

It dragged its metal claws across the floor to slow its velocity then flung another vibroblade at the rotten ceiling. Its hilt blinked twice then detonated the supports and ill-crafted materials. Chunks of debris cascaded in smoke around Maul, burying him with what seemed like no escape.

In silence, the Dimachaeri watched the pile from where he stood… hoping. Dearly hoping the battle was far from over.

When a metal slab rose into the air with an enraged Maul holding it up with the Force beneath it, the Dimacheari sighed with contentment.

It took every drop of his fury to lift the massive slab mere meters above his head. But the hired thug’s pesky trick to lure him into Force pushing him away was enough to fuel him.

If his life depended on it--if he was tortured into giving up why he thought it… Maul would have surely died because he had no way to explain why his apprentice’s face appeared.

Her effortless use of the Force was strange, but was stranger was how the weight of the object didn’t matter. She could tear a starship in two if she willed it. The things Maul could accomplish if he had her power, but instead they belonged to someone who cared little about them and their potential.

“What do you feel when you use the Force?” He asked her.

“Hate for myself,” she said.

That wasn’t enough to fuel her. There was something else and it wasn’t towards him. He had done nothing to have her not hate him, but there was not even a drop of remorse or animosity towards him from her; except their latest conversation.

Be gone! He could not allow her to distract him, even if she was possibly dead.

Maul hurled the metal slab toward his foe, who easily got rid of with another explosion.

And if she was dead? What of it? He had a plan before he discovered her. Her involvement only made the process easier, or harder if he considered their relationship. Maul could hear the Sith masters of the past laugh at him. The woman wasn’t an apprentice, she was…

A tool. A weapon. Power.

He recited his new mantra over and over.

She was nothing more and nothing less.

***

“Maul.”

The apprentice whispered in the middle of their meditation session. He chose to ignore her and, hopefully, depriving her of attention would force her to return to her task, because nothing else worked.

Threats to her life or to the theelin child would go over her head and she would run him around in circles with other questions. Pain was something she withstood much better than he anticipated, and if it became too much she did not hesitate to retaliate.

So. He ignored her. But even that didn’t work.

“I know you can hear me. I have a question.”

Maul took a deep inhale, a snarl making its way to his nostril.

“It’s not about your legs… this time. But about why you became a Sith.”

The annoyance seeped out of his body, but his muscles strained with anger. When he still said nothing, she continued.

“I’m here because of what I said in our last conversation. To stand up to Palpatine. But what was your goal? Before all this?”

He spoke plainly. “To defeat the Jedi and their ignorant ways.”

“Did the Jedi do something to you?”

“They drove the Sith to the shadows because they were afraid of our ways." It came flooding back to him. The anger he felt before Kenobi. Before his master cast him aside. When all his hate was against the Jedi. “They thought the dark side of the Force was impractical and dangerous. But it was only fear that drove them away. The very fear they train their successors to not feel. Because they are hypocrites.”

His nails dug deep into his palms. This anger was different. It was anger honed to perfection for his master’s bidding: silent rage he couldn’t contain. The rage that drove him into impatience and nearly killed him.

“Hey!”

Maul snapped his eyes open to his apprentice’s face.

“I’ve been calling you for ages. Where’d you go?”

“Get back into form,” Maul growled with a snap.

Móni did not move and stared back without the usual gleam of amusement. There was genuine concern.

“What you meant to say was: the Jedi didn’t do anything to you personally? So, where did all your hate come from?”

“Enough,” Maul spat back at the woman. “Don’t think I don’t know the motive behind your pestering. My past has nothing to do with your training and it won’t help you. You gain nothing from it.”

“Sure I do. I get to know more about my master,” she grinned but it did not reach her eyes. “We’re going to be stuck together for a long time, so I’d figure we actually have a decent conversation. Or is that not how you do things?”

“Return to your meditation.”

“It’s boring.”

“It’s essential to connect with the Force and check your emotions.”

Móni blew a lip trill and went into form, but not in the spot she had been at previously; she remained directly in front of him. Maul took in the form he had properly taught her: straight back, squared shoulders, chin up. Everything appeared perfect, but it was her head that was muddled.

“I can feel you staring. Am I doing something wrong again?” She spoke with closed eyes.

She had a reason. A reason to be Sith.

“How long has my master been after you?” Maul asked.

“Oh?” Móni broke her form and went into a lax position. “You can ask questions and I can’t? That’s not fair.”

Before Crimson Veil. Before the Clone Wars. Before he was cut in half. Before his master found him suitable enough to be sent on covert missions.

Before.

“I don’t remember,” he finally said. “Hate. Fear. Anger. They have always been my allies for as long as I can remember.”

The woman’s features were unreadable. She didn’t look upon him with pity or confusion. In fact, she was discerning something behind those vivid, orange eyes—piecing together something that didn’t exist. A waste of time.

She hummed her satisfaction for the response. “You may not like my answer, but it’s the same as yours. I don’t remember. I’ve been afraid of someone I’ve never met for as long as I could remember. The guy must be terrifying if he’s capable of ruining our lives to this extent.”

The indication behind her statement would have--no--should have filled his vision red to ever assume anything about him and his life. But they have both felt it. Shared it. The misery Darth Sidious had plagued their lives with. But he had experienced it on a far more personal level. And she was lucky.

She was lucky he found her first.

“The Dark Side,” he spoke again, with heavy regret, but it was too late to stop himself. The words spilled out and he wanted her to hear it. He couldn’t understand why, but there was no one else.

There was never anyone else.

Except, Savage.

Another tool. Another piece in Sidious’ game.

“The Dark Side was all I’ve ever known.”

Chapter Text

The viewport shattered from the Force and Móni was sucked out into space. Her body twisted and spun in every which way. She had no control over where she was being hurled, but she hoped she hadn’t flown too far from Avin’s ship.

When she opened her eyes, her chest tightened and the dome helmet felt significantly smaller. Their starship and the commercial vessel were further than she anticipated for Betts to possibly see her. Instead, she was floating with no gear, no commlink, and no way to return to solid ground.

Her dome fogged with her excessive breathing and she clawed at it, wanting so badly to release herself from it and breathe real air.

I can’t breathe.I can’t breathe.I can’t breathe.

Móni moaned a sob and bit her lip to keep herself from screaming. She brought her knees to her chest and softly rolled in the cold void to ease her breaths; whatever good that would do. Even if she calmed herself the situation would remain the same, with the only difference being she would see how screwed she was with more clarity.

I don’t want to die like this. In nothing.

Nothing.

They started small and barely there Móni thought it was her consciousness playing tricks on her. But as they grew louder, echoing in her skull and the glass dome, she realized it was not her but it.

It.

“No! Get out! Get out of my head. I don’t need you!”

But they wouldn’t go. No matter how much she shook her head and scratched at the dome, they remained whispering loudly to her in different languages; one on top of the other, on top of the other. It was driving her to madness.

Was this how she was to die? In madness?

But one voice rang true amongst the many, and she honed-in on her lifeline without qualms. She recognized the sound, but the tone was off. It muttered in Basic tongue on the edge of delirium.

“Always remember I am fear. Always remember I am hunter. Always remember I am filth. Always remember I am nothing.”

“Maul?”

An image of him flashed in her mind’s eye: he was skin and bones, with overgrown and missing horns, and his legs were made from junk parts and scraps in a shape of an arachnid. And she was viewing him through someone else--someone Maul was skittering away from.

“Who’s showing me this?”

But the image vanished and was replaced with a cloud of red gas and stardust. She was pulled deeper into the haze where a large shadow was hidden beyond.

“No. I don’t want any part of whatever you’re trying to show me.”

But it kept pushing her against her will until she was overwhelmed with something familiar and was pushed near the brink of hysteria when the shadow revealed itself as a dark planet. She gasped from the barrage of emotions coursing through her: anger, sorrow, pain, agony…

She remembered the letter in Mayishka’s shared memory with the gruesome writing and ink that resembled blood splatters across its pages.

“The Rogue Jedi.”

A horrific and inhuman scream rung in her ears. It sounded like it was forming words, but Móni didn’t understand.

Then she was sucked out, past a stream of stars, and was left alone in space once again.

Before she could decode whatever had just transpired, a starfreighter undocked from the commercial vessel and jumped to hyperspace.

The Dimachaeri.

There was no time. It was probably after Kyp and Zione and she needed to beat it to them.

Do not let it consume you.

Fear entangled her in a tight grip across her chest and neck. If she didn’t control it now, it was going to kill her. But how?

Divert it. She needed to divert it elsewhere. She extended a hand to their ship and called upon it, but the hard vacuum of space made the movement slow and it would take forever to bring it to her. Unless she brought herself to it.

If calling upon an object was a basic Force ability, then the opposite should apply as well. Easy enough.

But she was oh so wrong. There was no movement of momentum, merely her body spinning upside down from the weightlessness.

“Come on. Please,” she begged. “Please.”

Her arm and fingers stretched as far as they could toward her salvation. The fear, the desperation, the need to protect someone…

It struck her then. What she needed to do. What she needed to understand. The source of her fear and where the lie began. She could tell herself repeatedly she needed to protect Kyp and Zione, but that wasn’t where the desperation and fear resided.

It was her own skin. Everything boiled down to the need to shield herself from a power greater than her. Her whole life she was told to stay away from Sidious for reasons she never understood. The directive indoctrinated her mind and pushed her survival instincts to overdrive—to the point she turned her back to the Force as she saw it as more of a liability than a tool to aid her. Every time her life was in danger, she fooled herself into thinking she needed to protect those around her, but in reality, she needed to protect herself.

Móni’s fingers curled into claws, desperation long forgotten and replaced with resentment.

It. It was its doing.

It made her this way. Since she was a child it told her constantly to protect herself and be vigilant of her surroundings. Because her life was precious. A child being told they were precious raised a level of elation, but now she understood what it meant. All those times she tried to end her life and lived wasn’t a choice. She couldn’t because she wasn’t allowed the satisfaction of even death.

The lie became truth and the Force followed her command—she was pulled across the black void with a sea of stars to the starship. And when her fingers pressed against its metal, Móni reveled in the sensation of feeling something solid and real.

Betts took note of her master on the other side of the viewport and they stared at each other long and hard.

“Are you going to let me in or what?”

Móni did not waste a second to remove the dome when she entered the ship. Her lungs were filled to the brink with air before she exhaled slowly.

In the cockpit, she shoved Betts aside and input Kyp’s channel.

“Uh. Baelis was on the line talking to me.”

“They can wait,” Móni ended their transmission and connected to Kyp.

“Kyp?”

“Móni? You’re alive!”

“You and Zione need to get out of wherever you are as soon as possible. It’s coming after you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Zione interrupted.

“The whole party is here.”

“Betts!”

“Wow, Kyp,” Móni chuckled. “Where was this excitement when we first talked?”

“You missed me, Betts?”

“Not particularly.”

“Same ol’ Betts.”

“Zione,” Móni picked up their conversation. “What do you mean?”

“He’s headed to Andelm IV.”

“What’s there?”

“Not sure. But it’s where he and his brother were before one of them made their way to this side of the galaxy.”

“There’s another one?”

“Twins.”

“Perfect.” They were becoming more of an issue than she could have ever expected. “Listen. Does that vessel have enough juice for a hyperspace jump?”

“Yes?” Kyp responded. “But he’s going to come back for it once he’s done with whatever he’s doing. He left in a hurry.”

“That’s not going to be a problem. I’ll go to Andelm IV and finish this.”

Zione sighed. “You’re just blazing through and making enemies along the way, Móni.”

“We don’t have time to explore more options. Right now, I’m going to do what I can to keep you two safe and make peace with Maul… hopefully.”

“Hopefully, she says.”

“Are you having your crew get the ship to where it needs to go?” Kyp asked.

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Kyp said with some level of defeat.

“We’re trusting you, Móni,” Zione was harsh with his words. “If not for me then for the kid.”

“Aw. Does the ex-black markets dealer like playing the parent?”

Instead of humoring Móni with a response, Zione ended the transmission.

“Incoming call from Baelis,” Betts informed with a sigh. “He’s not gonna be happy.”

“Were you going to help them get back on the ship?”

“Yep.”

“Oh well,” Móni connected them. “Hey, guys. How’s it going?”

“Móni?” Avin did not withhold his shock. “You’re alive. But he said…”

“That I was gonna blow up? Not likely.”

“Unfortunate,” Baelis murmured.

“Missed you too, hon.”

“So,” Myn began. “That thing locked us in a room with no way out and… Oh wait. The door is unlocked. Did we miss something?”

“This is what’s going to happen. You three are going to take that vessel to D’Qar and it’s going to be our bargaining chip with Dryden Vos. In the meantime, I will be doing some unfinished business with our friend, so we won’t have to deal with him again.”

“I don’t want to spend another second on this ship,” Myn was drained.

“Unfinished business where?” Avin wondered. “How do you know where he’s headed?”

“Figured out he’s on the way to Andelm IV.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“Are we still connected, Betts?”

“Yep.”

“Guys?”

Baelis was the first to respond. “That’s where Lord Maul is.”

She should have been upset. Livid. But what did she care if he kept secrets from her? Her involvement in his little escapades was the least of her worries. If Maul was on the planet the Dimachaeri was headed, then it was probably after him; meaning escape was going to be a whole lot more difficult. Maul would sense her the moment she entered the planet’s atmosphere.

The vision of Maul in his deformed state rushed into her mind, but she shook it away and thought no more of it.

“Then it’s most likely on its way to kill him like it tried with me. But it wasn’t expecting me.”

“Or that you’re still alive,” Avin added.

“Exactly. Now go do what I asked, please. The weird creature already has a head start.”

“For now,” Myn said. “We found its ship and Avin may have tinkered with it a bit. But then it found us, so we couldn’t do much.”

“You guys aren’t completely useless after all.”

“Excuse me?” Avin started, but Móni ended the transmission.

“Take us away, Betts.”

“Here we go,” Betts drawled as she punched in the coordinates and sent them into hyperspace.

And the ship Móni had escaped from, quietly drifting with its overstuffed rooms of luxury and emptiness, blew up in the dead of space as he promised.

-

For a large and lumbering creature that relied on tricks, it was more agile than Maul anticipated. It swerved and blocked his attacks, and when he would use the Force it always held onto something—with his claws or tail—to weaken the propulsion. It was highly skilled in fighting Force-sensitive beings, and he wondered how many Jedi it had killed to reach such a level.

Maul abhorred the thought of it, but he had to face reality if he wanted to survive: the creature may have killed more Jedi and padawans than him. Every move was made with careful calculation as it considered how he would attack. If it knew exactly where he needed to stand for the ceiling to collapse on him, then there were more traps lying in wait for him.

Rook and her men circled behind the Dimachaeri in the shadows. She aimed her vambrace at its back and nodded at Maul.

A proper battle to test another’s mettle in combat and strength was how Maul preferred to slay his enemies, but he wasn’t allowed the luxury as there were more important matters to attend to than deal with a hired merc.

He spun his lightsaber into form then charged at the creature with everything he had. As expected, it kept up with the flurry of attacks but failed to conclude Maul’s ability to switch from lightsaber combat to hand-to-hand. He guided the shield away with his lightsaber then pivoted to elbow him in the mask. In its short state of confusion, Maul pressed the bottom of his steel foot to its chest and shoved him closer to the Mandalorian’s range.

Rook shot out a grappling line that ensnared the Dimachaeri into submission.

“You don’t play fair,” the Dimachaeri sighed with disappointment.

“I don’t have time for your games.” Maul raised his lightsaber, his fingers twitching to sever its head from its decrepit form.

“Pity. I would have liked to have played a little longer.”

When Maul noticed movement beneath its cloak, he veered his red-hot blade towards its neck but was too late.

A volt of electricity coursed along the grappling line and stunned Rook. With the line loosened it ducked from Maul’s swing and dived into the shadows, hidden from view and senses, as if it had vanished from existence.

“Since you won’t play on equal ground,” its voice carried throughout the room making it impossible to pinpoint its exact location, “then I suppose I won’t either.”

A spike in bloodlust prickled Maul’s skin, but when he turned to its direction, he was met with darkness.

“Behind you.”

Maul swung with his lightsaber arm first and was caught in the Dimachaeri’s grasp.

“Predictable. Not any different from a Jedi.”

Blood clouded Maul’s vision from the heat coursing through his veins. “You’ll regret those words, hunter.”

With his free hand he choked the creature with the Force and pinned him to the ground, draining his life slowly. He wanted to hear the wretched creature’s final gasps of life within his hold and for it to feel the true might of a Sith. But in his reverie, he did not feel the thin, wire cable wrapped around his wrist where the hunter had grabbed him.

The Dimachaeri released his hold and raised his arms up to showcase a touchscreen display on his wrist. He pressed the screen and Maul was sent hurtling forward.

Rocks and dirt chafed his arm and side as he was dragged outside the structure and into the glaring sun; his lightsaber lost in the process. He challenged the wire’s hold from his wrist, but the blasted material was too fine and durable for him to grasp or break. And before he could think of another attempt, he was lifted off the ground and hung more than twenty meters into the air. The wire dug into his skin drawing blood, but it did not bother him. The pain of his burnt skin and wrist fueled him as the anger boiled quietly under the skin, ready to be released when the creature decided to show its form in the light.

It strolled out into the empty compound and picked up the dual-bladed lightsaber—hiding it from view in its cloak to make it impossible for its owner to recall. It stopped at the crane’s base where Maul was suspended from.

“What shall I call your kind, if you are not Jedi?” It asked with an edge of politeness that came across as demeaning. His voice, however, was raspier than before from being choked.

The zabrak stared down at the enemy with a stone face of immeasurable detestation. Instead of answering, Maul recalled the darksaber from within his top and extended the black blade with a halo of white. He held in his silent delight when the Dimachaeri showed the first sign of surprise in its stiff shoulders and stepped back. But as always, the creature was one step ahead and veered the crane around, halting Maul from connecting the saber with the wire as he was swung by the fast momentum.

Maul winced at the wire digging deeper into his skin and noticed the loss of feeling in his hand. In mid-swing he aimed for the wire again, cutting himself loose and was thrown into the mine’s scaffolding. His body slid across the metal floor and was stopped when his back collided with a pole. He tried flexing his hand and saw a discoloration in his red skin. With the very tip of the darksaber he seared the wire off and burnt some skin with it, but the relief of blood rushing back to his fingertips dulled the pain.

He assessed the new area. The scaffolding led to many tunnels into the cliff behind him and ran deep into the ground where the operating towers took root in. Upon closer inspection, they were not towers but massive drills that were in constant need of repairs the deeper they went. A shabby operation run by shabby people.

It was obvious they were struggling given the poor infrastructure and housing drizzled throughout the area. Anyone in relation or contact with the crime syndicates were doomed to suffer under the Emperor’s hand and the sugis were a prime example of that. Not even the Hutt family could spare any resources for them, even though they were their top weapons supplier.

He placed a hand on the oil-leaking device and evaluated a quick solution to the sugi’s problem; one to be easily mended once he overthrew their reign over the plot of rich land.

First, the Dimachaeri needed to be disposed of.

Maul narrowed his eyes at it from where it stood: it hadn’t made any indications of going after him. The hunter may have been suspecting him to make the first charge, but if he didn’t tread carefully, he would be ensnared in another makeshift device.

Before he could make his way through the scaffold’s maze, the drill roared to life raising alarms for his survival to jump down. However, as he looked beyond and into the Dimachaeri’s lifeless mask, he knew it was waiting for him to make the wrong move, as any hunter would. Maul looked at how high the machine went, fabricating a plot to outsmart the creature below, but an incoming ship coming at high speed caught his and the Dimachaeri’s attention.

One of its engine-drives left a black trail of smoke as it came hurtling towards Maul’s general location, and he turned to make a run into one of the tunnels but sensed a presence coming in with it.

Over the viewport and maneuvering the vehicle through broken transparisteel was his apprentice very much… alive.

-

Móni changed her attire into something more loose-fitting rather than the constricting EVA suit she had currently learned to despise.

“You sure you won’t be spaced again?” Betts asked.

“Better not.” Móni stood at the ready as they approached their destination. “If I do it won’t be intentional this time.”

“I think that may have taken the cake as the craziest thing you’ve done.”

“So, not when I tried holding the elevator door for Kyp when those banthas closed it right in our faces? Or the time I cross-wired my own studio’s lights?”

“Didn’t know about the first one.”

“An incoming lift almost took my head clean off.”

“The second,” Betts continued, “was you being an idiot. How anyone is capable of cross-wiring so bad that it turned their room into a bomb goes beyond my programming.”

“Your programming should be well adjusted to my ways by now.”

“If you have the credits to upgrade me, sure.”

Móni stopped herself from continuing when a thought occurred to her. “I’m not being paid for any of this am I?”

“Not a single credit.”

“That’s something I may need to bring up to Lord Maul.”

“Speaking of which,” Betts dropped the ship out of hyperspace and Andelm IV’s blue-green shade was in view.

“There he is!” Móni shook Betts as she pointed at the Dimachaeri’s ship making its way to the planet’s atmosphere.

“My photoreceptors aren’t damaged.”

“Looks like he’s having a bit of trouble flying,” Móni grinned.

“What’s your plan? Follow him until he lands then kill him?”

“No. We’re gonna shoot him out of the sky.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Anticlimactic is all.”

“Sorry if I’m not here for your entertainment.”

“Apology not accepted.”

“Where are the gun controls?”

“Where Myn sat.”

Móni extended a periscope from the ceiling and took the gunnery controls. She locked in on the creature’s ship and fired at an engine-drive.

“Direct hit!”

“Uh-oh,” Betts didn’t sound concerned, but she understood the phrase meant something foreboding to the organics.

“Now what?”

As they entered the planet’s atmosphere the Dimachaeri fired off bolts from the rear of its ship.

“Is someone in there with him?” Móni was aghast out how resilient the creature was.

“He’s the only organic I’m reading aboard the ship. But on a more important note, our shields aren’t strong enough to withstand his firepower.”

“Seriously? This is a ship augmented by Mandalorians.”

“Yes. But it seems your friend is better equipped than them.”

Móni fired off a few more bolts, but it put up shields around its rear when she made herself known. “Then dodge as best you can!”

“I’m not a pilot.”

“You’re a battle droid, aren’t you supposed to know how to?”

“Only the basics of it.”

“Then adapt!”

“If you learned how to fly properly or upgraded my programming, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Avin is not going to be happy if we return with a beat-up ship.”

“If we return with it at all.”

“Betts…”

“Our shields are at 5%.”

Móni inhaled and stared out the viewport at the straggling ship making a great effort to get where it needed to go.

“Fly above it.”

“Here we go…”

Betts positioned the ship above as directed and said nothing when Móni selected the button to open the ramp.

“Keep following it after I land. I’ve got a commlink on me, so I’ll keep you posted. See you on the ground.”

“If you don’t kill yourself.”

“Have a little faith, yeah?”

“What is that?”

Móni guffawed as she made her way to the rear where the open ramp awaited her. She jumped down onto the Dimachaeri’s ship and crawled along its back against the harsh winds. When she reached its helm, Móni slid down the viewport and tapped the glass.

The Dimachaeri reared up from his controls, and although she couldn’t sense him, the broken mask she gave him helped give away all she needed to feel: fear and shock.

“Missed me?”

It recovered from the disbelief and turned the controls of the ship hard to fling her off. But Móni hugged the viewport, her stubbornness keeping her alive.

With the Force she pushed the creatures off its seat, giving her the time she needed to raise her fist and burst through the transparisteel twice to make room for two arms and took hold of the ship’s controls.

The Dimachaeri shot up and grasped the control wheel himself but found it impossible to turn against the woman’s strength.

“Having trouble there?”

“You’re going to get us both killed, human,” it spat.

“No. Just you. Uh. Whatever you are.”

It whipped his tail around and Móni grasped it with one hand. A devious smile spread across her face.

“Got you.”

She hurled the Dimachaeri out of the cockpit, its massive form breaking the viewport and showering them with clear shards. She left it on the ship’s nose which it had dug its claws into to keep itself from sliding off.

“Have fun surviving!” She yelled over the wind in her ears.

It stared her down with one visible eye, filling her with the bloodlust she had felt earlier on the commercial vessel.

“I’ll make you regret ever wanting to live.”

“Too late for that.” Móni saluted and jumped before the ship crashed into a cliff with scaffoldings.

Móni saw the mistake in her jump too late, as it was not propelled by the Force, when her only options were a hole at the top of the cliff or being crushed by the machines operating the towers. She held her breath and allowed herself to be sucked into another tube of darkness, only this time there were lights along the walls and metal railings to indicate its use as a lift. Only there was no lift to be seen, as far as she could tell.

It felt like minutes since she fell through--the long seconds pumping apprehension into her veins when there was no end in sight. But relief eased her muscles when she no longer saw black at the end. As she was properly taught by Master, she slowed her descent and cushioned her fall on a lift. When she looked up the tunnel there was but a speck of white light.

She checked the console to start the lift and bring her to the surface but saw it required a key to operate it. “If only Betts were here.”

Móni took in the massive cavern vaulted so high she could just barely make out where it ended. But the size of it wasn’t what awed her, it was the vast glowing roots that weaved and intertwined throughout its depths. Surrounding them were lifts and elevated pathways for miners and their loads, giving it a striking appearance of an underground city.

She placed a hand on one of the bright pink roots and felt its energy run past her fingers. There were organisms moving along inside of it; fat and barely moving.

“Insects? No. Larvae.”

She looked inside a miner’s cart and found a carcass of an oval lump with twelve stubbed legs and held the same pigment as the roots, only dulled from its loss of life.

“Hm,” Móni cocked her head in thought. “Maul must be here for the mines.”

For almost an hour Móni checked every lift, but they all required keys or a handprint to keep her from accessing any of them. She huffed a curl out of her eyes.

“I’m gonna get lost if I go any deeper.”

She put her back against a root to consider her next action but then felt a surge of power move behind her. Móni spun and inspected the glowing vein, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. With some hesitation, she placed her hand on it and felt a pulse moving in a direction deeper inside the caverns.

The smart thing to do was to remain near her only viable exit—where she fell from—but her curiosity got the better of her. Not to mention the rhythmic energy felt like a heartbeat, which only enticed her further.

With the tips of her finger, she followed along the beating root that extended into the maze of tunnels and pathways. Eventually, she was led where tracks were scarce and with minimal signs of mining to the point where Móni was certain she had entered the untraversed territory. She had to slink her way through corners, crouch-walk under low rocks, and slid down a slope that dropped her off in a pocket with stalagmites. In the center was a pool of water disturbed only by the single drops of condensation from the most extended tip of the stalactites. A single spike protruded from the center of the water with a bright white light shining from its tip.

“The energy source.”

Móni waded through the water, drawn by the light that beckoned her to follow it. When she reached it, the bright stone whispered to her. It was unintelligible, soft, and almost lyrical. It chimed with glee when she touched it and sighed a happy note once it was removed from its base.

In the palm of her hand, Móni held a clear crystal about the size and width of her thumb.

“What is it?”

The cavern trembled, breaking Móni out of her reverie, and was almost struck on the head by a loose stone coming down.

“Why do I get the feeling it didn’t die from the crash?” She huffed and made her way to shore, Force pushing away rocks and spikes from hitting her.

Halfway through from returning to where she was, before diverting towards the crystal, she stopped and pulled on her lower lip. Without the energy to take her back, she really couldn’t recall which way was which anymore.

“Well… this isn’t good.”

A presence struck her. It was resentful and filled with a kind of brutal hatred she recognized in an instant. Her heart leaped in her chest from the familiarity and knowing she was in the same space as someone she could count on more than the Mandalorians.

She took a step back and reflected on herself, not understanding her own fluctuations when she made a definitive decision with Kyp and Zione she was going to escape the life of master and apprentice and all the baggage it came with.

It was too late to make a run for it anyhow. If she sensed him then the chance of him sensing her was a definite fact.

Móni traversed through the cavern’s labyrinth, following his presence which made its way in her direction as well, until she turned a corner and was met with the company of her dear master: brooding, calm, and poised as usual.

“Look who I found,” she grinned wide; all whites with stretched cheeks, and all.

Maul held his grimace while the apprentice beamed at him. He paced before her and took note of the cauterized wound on her left forearm and her bloodied knuckles. There was also singed skin on her right calf; a mark usually made by elctro-shocks. She was also fairly damp from the shoulders down and was only slightly curious as to why that was.

“You survived,” he said almost impressed.

The grin faltered and the shine in her eyes faded. “You expected me to die.”

“If you applied anything from my teachings, then, no. I did not.”

Móni worked her jaw while she teetered on a thin line of rage and understanding. The rage stemmed from what the point of her being there was if her life held little enough meaning to be disposed of at any given moment. The understanding was much harder to believe, but not so much she couldn’t consider it: he had faith in her abilities. Otherwise, what was the point of wasting his precious time on her? He spent hour after hour, and day after day training her to be the tool he needed to fulfill his plan when he had an organization to run.

“Well,” she began. “The Dimachaeri also thought I was dead, so surprise all around.”

She took the time to examine his body and saw the right side of it was scratched in several places and parts of his clothing were torn. Most notably, his right wrist had an awfully deep ring of cut flesh and burnt skin.

“Dealt with the brother, I see.”

“Brother?”

“There’s two of them. Twins. It was how I was led here. It probably came back to finish you off together.”

Maul processed the information, running a strategy. “They separated themselves thinking I would send my Commander to the commercial vessel. They didn’t expect an apprentice.”

“The crime families want you dead.”

“Yes. However, they made the mistake of betting all their credits in hiring these hunters; a last, desperate attempt to kill me and the Crimson Veil. If we kill them both, then we deplete their options and we win the game.” A wicked smirk stretched his features.

We.

Whatever doubts Móni may have had were remedied by the one word. Her existence had already ingrained itself in Maul’s path and was expected to be a part of it for the journey.

The caverns rumbled again, but it felt far closer this time.

“An exit needs to be found if we are to survive.” Maul turned to Móni. “Their plan is to trap us in here.”

“I fell through a shaft and checked all the lifts I could find, but they’re disabled.”

“Take me there.”

“Uh. Yeah. Give me a second to remember…”

“Not a second more or you will find your face on the ground,” Maul snarled at her.

“Relax, will you? I just came from a maze and got disoriented for a moment.”

Móni closed her eyes and opened her senses. All she needed was the slightest movement to direct her where she needed to go, and it came. The hairs on her arms and neck tingled from the soft caress of surface wind, and she faced where it originated from.

“This way.”

“You didn’t use the Force,” Maul mused with a level of scrutiny as he followed her.

“I didn’t need it against the Dimachaeri and I don’t need it now.”

“You cannot sense them,” he concluded.

“You can’t either!” Móni whirled at him. “Do you know why or what they are?”

“No,” he said with a certain weight to it. “They are not of any race I am familiar with. As for their presence… they purposely heighten their emotions for bloodlust and violence to draw out their enemies.”

“The Jedi. It thought you were one too?”

“Yes,” Maul growled. “A grave mistake. He will get what he deserves soon enough.”

“I’m sure it will if we find a way out of here.”

She recognized the city of pathways and lifts and weaved through a few more tunnels until they reached the massive cavern she landed in.

“Over there,” Móni pointed, “was how I fell in here.”

Maul made his way to the lift and checked the console as Móni had done previously. When nothing worked, he crouched and removed the bottom compartment with the Force to reveal a mess of colored wires. He carefully selected a few, plucked them, then got to work on cross-wiring.

Fascinated by this unknown skill, she crouched beside him and watched his fingers work the wires with a delicacy she would have never suspected he had. She admired the shape and thickness of his hands, and the bones moving under the gloves’ fabric. Without thinking, Móni exhaled a sigh of disappointment from her nose to be able to watch his hands work without coverings.

The sigh halted Maul as he inclined his head ever so slightly with a glare that could have set her aflame.

Móni stared back in question, not understanding what set him off until it clicked.

“Oh! Uh. Don’t mind me. I don’t know anything about this sort of stuff.”

He stared back in silence before resuming his work.

The caverns shook with more violence releasing loose rocks from the ceiling and clouds of dust. Neither Maul nor Móni were bothered by it as they sat silently beside the other.

“Isn’t,” Maul spoke with a level of normalcy Móni had never heard from him before, “your droid repurposed?”

“Yes. But not by me. It was…,” her words faded. Unsure if bringing the name up would incite anything, but she couldn’t see why it would. She took the risk. “Betts belonged to Kyp’s mother before she was given to me. Mainly because I was a total loss for not knowing anything about splicing, tuning, and whatever else they said was important to know.”

“You rely too much on the droid.” He tied two severed ends together and sat up to check the console. “That needs to be remedied.”

“Kyp's tried. Believe me. He says I may just be a halfwit. I believe it.”

“No,” Maul stated simply as the console turned on. “You weren’t raised with sophisticated technology and lived a life in luxury on Coruscant.” He glanced at her with knowing eyes that froze her in place. “Is that correct?”

Móni pressed her lips tightly together from the exposure. With just a few facts and observations he knew more about her than anyone she had ever known. She cleared her dry throat and spoke.

“I wouldn’t call it luxury…” She rubbed her forehead and smoothed her pulled-back curls as flashes of a life long past rushed through her memories. A trashed apartment. Empty canisters of alcohol. Furniture stained with dried spice. Tangled in a stranger’s arms in her bedsheets. “It was a hollow life.”

Maul glanced away and activated the lift. “Not uncommon for beings who lived on Coruscant’s surface.”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the railing as they made the long trek skyward. “And how would you know? Unless you lived on Coruscant with Palpatine.”

“I would be sent every so often to complete his biddings.”

“Biddings?”

“I was his hunter.”

“His tool,” she bit on the word hard, so he would not miss the undertone of her meaning.

He turned ever so slightly her way with a gleam of expectance and tension in his muscles. Maul anticipated an attack from the apprentice, but none came. Instead, she remained where she was, relaxed and composed, boring into his mind with her bright eyes.

“Doesn’t seem like the apprentice is any different from the master.”

It was said so simply, but the gravity of her words shook his body in uncontrollable fury. Maul gripped tightly onto the rail to find some sort of release for his emotions, but it wasn’t enough. He imagined withdrawing the darksaber and running her through, ending it all to spare himself the torment, but he knew even that wouldn’t remedy the truth. To be like him meant his master would always be a part of him in some way. Through his teachings, training, and discipline, they would always be there controlling his every action and decisions because—

It was all I’ve ever known. Maul recalled telling the apprentice those words, and the creeping change of realization morphing into horror on her features. He did not know what it meant, nor did he care.

All he had to do was eradicate the source of this plague and claim himself above it. Because he was not him. The apprentice will surpass the master. And his Empire will fall. Even if it meant using his teachings against him.

When he faced her, Móni expected an immense scowl or a hand to grip her jaw tight. But what she stared into was far worse: pain laced with resolve and it was not towards her--not necessarily. The frustration was still there, but whatever she dredged up she wasn’t sure if she was proud of causing it.

Before either of them said another word on the matter, the lift halted and the console shut down. The shaft’s lights blinked off along with the rest of the cavern. They were left in darkness with but a speck of the sun’s light above them and the root’s halo pink glow.

“No way,” Móni groaned. “Who gave them control of the entire mine? Unless they did it without anyone knowing, which sounds more like something they would do.”

Maul stared above them at their only escape, then his glowing focus shifted to his apprentice--wide and calculating.

“What?”

“I am not capable of making the jump.”

“Yeah?” Móni shrugged, not liking where he was going.

“But you are.”

Móni swiped an arm at him. “No. Not happening.” The panic was already settling in and having been spaced mere hours ago did not help. “I’d rather die in here.”

“What’s keeping you from pushing yourself further? All this latent power incapable of use because you let your emotions control you,” he bared his cuspids at her. “This power is wasted on you, woman.”

“If I had the choice of transferring it all to you and be free from your temper tantrums, then I’d gladly do it. But I’m stuck with it and you’re stuck with me, so…” Móni raised her arms to showcase her lack of control.

“Apprentice…,” Maul growled a level lower than he usually did and, for the first time, Móni heard the violence in his tone. “Time and time again you’ve tested my patience with your disrespect and absurdity; feigning ignorance and indifference when you actually care a great deal. Otherwise, why haven’t you made any attempts of escape?”

She was sure he didn’t know about her plans, which was proving moot by the second, but her conversation with Kyp and Zione was finally making sense. Móni couldn’t fathom why the people she's closest with would not share their elation with her for returning to them. They knew, or had a certain understanding, of how dangerous she was.

Are they afraid of me?

And why hadn’t she tried to escape? She could have at least humored Maul once or twice with a few failed attempts, but instead, she stuck with his training and followed his demands, hence why she was standing on a lift with him in a mine without power.

Móni looked at Maul—really looked for the first time. She felt a kinship between them in the exact same way when he was ready to burn a hole through her with his lightsaber on the Abolition. She couldn’t understand why she never thought about it before, but Maul was the first person in her life with whom she shared her abilities with.

Her silence and stare caused a certain discomfort in Maul. She never looked that way at him before and it was disconcerting. It lacked the gleam of mischief and curiosity, nor was it the agonizing eyes of self-hatred. They were large and kind. Full. Bright.

It irritated him to no end, the new expression. It felt wrong. Most importantly, he wanted to be disgusted by it, but he felt no such thing. His confusion spiked his anger and he sneered at the woman.

“This is not the time for your impertinence! Do as you’re told as an apprentice should.”

“I’ll jump,” she said with more certainty than either of them expected. “I’ll jump.”

Móni craned her neck at the spot of light then held her hand to her master, who looked at it questionably.

“How else are you going to get up there? Or I can leave you here.” She withdrew her hand.

It was obvious Maul hadn’t considered the implications that came with Móni jumping by his deep frown.

She did not hold back her grin when she offered an arm instead. “We can link arms instead? Or…,” she beamed. “I can carry you in my arms like a damsel.”

Maul linked his arm with hers without a word, but the deep scowl pushing up a nostril elicited a chuckle from Móni that made his muscles taut.

The skin of their bare arms slid against the other and all parties ignored the sensation of their warmth. They inhaled away the tension and focused on the matter at hand. They needed to escape else they were stuck in a cavern for the rest of their lives, and dealing with Maul’s anger issues for that long was not on Móni’s future list of things to do.

“Here we go.”

Chapter Text

“Don’t wander off too far, alright?”

Móni’s wild curls bobbed as her small body jumped onto a steppingstone to cross over the gurgling river. She turned her large eyes at a tall and thin woman with strikingly similar features to hers, except her curls were shaved close to her scalp and her eyes a rich brown.

“I won’t,” Móni exasperated.

“Be back before the sun sets!” The woman called after the little girl who scurried into the jungle to play.

Móni ran through thick clusters of trees whose roots grew out of the ground to form a labyrinth of twisting wood that was not easy to navigate through. However, for a child with a small enough frame to crawl under and fit through difficult gaps, and had strange abilities to connect with the planet’s life—the area was familiar enough to be called her playground.

When she stopped at the base of a wide and old tree, she began to climb.

“Onkar!” she called above her.

A small head of white fur with bulbous brown eyes stared down at the human. Several more heads popped up alongside it, only their shades differed from the first one. The white one scratched behind its round ear before unfolding its wings and soaring down to perch itself on Móni’s shoulder. It wrapped a long tail around her neck and licked a long tongue across her fat cheek.

“Your mom brought any good fruits this time?”

Onkar blinked at her before flapping its wings with excitement, tugging on a few strands of her curls with its claws.

“Ow! Onkar!”

It flapped more furiously when it could not free itself.

“Stop! Stop! Wait for me to reach the nest!”

Understanding Móni was not stopping and kept a calm temper, Onkar reflected on her emotions and stilled itself until she reached a crevice in the tree’s center where a nest was snuggled into.

She sat amongst Onkar’s brothers and sisters who licked at her arms and legs in greeting. Móni found the tangle of his tiny clawed hand within her curls and undid it through gritted teeth and a few yelps.

Móni rubbed her head and stared at Onkar. “Now you definitely owe me a fruit.” She looked around and saw none. “Which you don’t have.”

Onkar and its siblings flapped their wings in unison and pointed their snouts above them. Hanging deep in the tree’s leaves and branches were luscious lumps of pink fruit with a lovely yellow stem that connected to its parent. Móni stood and gasped.

“They finally grew! You want me to pick some for you?”

Their merriment escalated on a higher level by their jumping and gliding around her.

“Alright. Alright. But just this once. Your mom probably wanted you to get it and learn to fly.”

They didn’t seem to care and continued to glide around her.

Móni climbed further up and crawled on an extended branch where there were two fruits hanging. She plucked and dropped them to the nest, which the small creatures scrambled for and ate with delight. Except for Onkar who waited patiently for the next fruit to fall.

“Aw, Onkar,” Móni moaned. “You need be more asse… asterv? Assitive? Whatever, you can’t be bullied!”

Onkar hung its head and whimpered.

“I’ll get another one for us to share,” she sighed as she raised her head to find another fruit much higher than she expected it to be.

She chewed on her lip deliberating whether she should make the attempt, but it wasn’t fair that Onkar’s siblings were able to have a treat and not him. Móni patted her cheeks and grew her confidence before she began the ascent.

Móni made her way across a thin, but sturdy branch and was directly beneath her target. She extended her arm, but not even the tips of her finger could graze the bottom of it.

Then it came. The whispers.

Jump. Jump. We will guide you.

The whispers had never been wrong before. They were the ones who taught her to make friends with the animals and feel the jungle’s life pulsate through the trees, and leaves, and grass, and wind. They made the long and boring days fun by teaching her how to make objects float, entertaining herself.

So, she jumped. And she didn’t come back down.

***

Móni’s hold tightened around Maul’s arm as she bent her knees. The action alone filled Maul with her terror and apprehension, turning on a valve of doubt.

When Móni lifted into the air, propelling the Force with her, there was that same weightlessness as when she was spaced and during that time when she was a child. Her breathing hitched and her blood froze, losing any feeling in her feet and hands.

Maul was… dumbfounded. He had expected her to skyrocket into the air as she had done with the ship when he tested the extent of her Force abilities, but not this. The strength of her hold on him was tense and firm, but he refused to wince from the pain and bared it. Her face was immobile while her attention locked onto their exit, but he had a notion she was looking beyond and to where the source of her fear resided. The typical lopsided and toothy grins, quirking brows, and cheery eyes were gone and replaced with an expression he had never encountered from her. Hate and depression were other attributes of hers, but he was unfamiliar with this one. If his observations were correct, she was undergoing a panic attack.

A major part of him was livid by the poor display of utter weakness and helplessness. It was nauseating to watch someone with such incredible gifts be so petrified of it. It was an utter waste!

“Apprentice!” he sneered. “You are more than capable to assess your fear and control it. Have I taught you nothing?”

Maul awaited an insufferable reply he was so accustomed to hearing, but he received no such reaction. In fact, the opposite occurred when they approached the surface.

Tears welled in her eyes and her breathing ceased.

Without any time to consider what had happened, Maul was launched at an incredible speed up the shaft and into the clear, hot day of Andelm IV.

He grasped onto a railing with his free arm that surrounded the shaft's entrance, while the other remained linked to the apprentice. Her legs were pulled straight behind her as if something were taking her to the heavens.

Her hands grasped his arm and she shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t. Not again. Not again.”

“If you don’t control yourself,” Maul resorted to something he had planned on saving when he truly needed to tie her down and keep her mouth shut, “then I will kill your Kyp and amani friend before your very eyes. I know what they’ve been up to, and they are not hard to track with my connections.”

Nothing. She didn’t even blink at him, even when he meant every word. She was lost in whatever chaos was reigning in her mind.

If he released her, Maul understood she would be lost forever, and he would be free of her.

What would Master do?

Master would have left him to float aimlessly in the sky and resolve his failures on his own; without care if he died or not because if he did, Maul could have been easily replaced. And he was.

But the woman was not replaceable. He knew. And his master knew. The woman was otherworldly. Maul was experiencing it firsthand and he’d be a fool to ignore it.

With a twitch of reluctance in his nostril and corner of his lips, he pulled the woman close to him and touched her forehead with his.

An explosion of emotions coursed through his body and it took a great deal of self-control to not be sucked and lost in it. But he acclimated and separated himself from her and searched for what was ailing her so.

He was in a body of a child screaming and crying at the top of its lungs. Its body spinning in the weightlessness, unable to discern what was the ground and what was the sky. They rose so high they felt a climb in temperature from the change in atmosphere, burning the child’s skin. But they did not stop. They kept soaring where the air was too thin for her to scream anymore and her body collected frost when they entered the next atmospheric level. Soon, they were able to see the space’s void and its stars just beyond the blue sky.

The child’s breaths were slowing down from the lack of air. Her life was coming to an end, her body unable to take any more of the atmosphere’s turbulent changes. But then her thoughts went strangely silent.

“What do I do?” she asked the sky, the air, the stars, and space. “Tell me what to do.”

Their eyes closed and Maul felt nothing else.

“No one could hear me,” the apprentice finally spoke with some coherence. “My mothers couldn’t hear me. I had never felt so alone before.”

Maul understood the pain far too well, so much so he had to compose his own past from filtering through.

There’s no time for this! He berated himself. The woman has been bringing out parts of himself he had long forgotten or never knew existed, and it annoyed him to no end because he could not understand why.

“Spare me your self-pity,” Maul did not mince his words. They were harsh and unkind, but Móni’s clouded eyes cleared bit by bit as he spoke; their shine returning. “Forget your past. It does not define you. The woman before me is who you should be concerning yourself with. You are an apprentice to a Sith Crime Lord of the Crimson Veil with one goal: eradicating our enemy’s great empire. Your power is not your master. I am. And you will do as I command and collect yourself. We have two Jedi hunters that need to be killed, and this can only be done if you cooperate.”

A push closer and their noses would touch, but neither were concerned about the other’s proximity. The only thing that mattered now was for Móni to plant her feet on solid ground.

“What do I need to do?” Her breaths were deep and fast, but her jaw was set with determination.

“What I taught you, apprentice. Or have you forgotten already?”

Móni recalled the time she exerted her fear and unshackled the truth in her mind to pull herself towards the ship while in deep space. Using her fear was simple enough, but it was the truth that was hard to cope with. She steadied her breaths and searched for it. If she had to put a date on when she began to resent the Force, it was probably then. In her child’s mind, she felt the Force had abandoned her and left her to die for reasons she couldn’t possibly understand. Because for the first time it went silent.

It was also proof of how vital Maul’s teachings were, and not a load of poodoo. Her emotions were out of control and she had let them control her for the longest time. She needed to be better. She could be better. She wanted to be better. So, she could face her past, Palpatine, and the Force and not let them consume her life.

Her hold on Maul loosened while still holding his tainted yellow gaze.

“I won’t run. Not anymore.”

A cheeky smile was in the works on the edge of her lips, and Maul couldn’t be sure if he was relieved or irritated by it.

“Give me a second,” she said under her breath in a tone that was so light it was refreshing to hear.

The Force around her calmed, and Maul felt it instantly. She was no longer being tugged, and him with her, but was gently being released.

Móni’s hand slid down his arm, her fingers memorizing every muscle and groove of his bones, and how smooth it was. Her brows knit together from the sensation and how her blood quickened. When her hand stopped at the cusp of his, she let it linger there as she hovered in the air in an upright position, showcasing her control of the Force.

Maul’s hand tensed however when she felt his skin, disliking how her fingers trailed upon it, but when she reached his hand the tension left. In his palm, he held the magnificence of her power and was struck with wonder.

What is she?

He lowered his hand with her until her feet touched the ground. When they did, a genuine smile illuminated her face with a glow she had never shared with him. Maul internally scowled at himself from noticing all these firsts from his apprentice. Clearly, this was when he truly began the journey of deciphering who she was.

And there was a slight shift in her aura he took note of. What it meant he wasn’t keen on finding out, especially if it involved having to peruse through her unruly mind again.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go hunt some hunters.” She connected her fist with the palm of her hand.

“Yes.” There was one thing about her he could understand, and that was she ached for battle. A leer played on his face. “Let’s.”

-

The Dimachaeri Móni had left stranded jumped to a scaffold in safety before he suffered the repercussions of the collision. He huffed and coughed from the exertion and the near loss of his life.

He activated the wrist commlink. “Brother,” he grunted.

“Lepida… I was afraid I had to deal with these non-Jedi’s myself. Would have taken the fun out of it.”

“What are they?”

“The zabrak didn’t tell me. But when we fought, he fought to kill.”

“So did the woman. Cocky banshee.”

“Had trouble with her?”

“She was able to sense me.”

“Impossible!”

Lepida shook his head. “I don’t think she used the Force. She has a hunter’s skills.”

His brother on the other end hummed his thoughts. “What shall we do?”

“Trap them in the mines with only few passages to escape from. Ones we can keep track of.”

“Lure them out? That can work. However, fighting them together may be more difficult than a Jedi with its padawan.”

“Our little games can only last so long until they acclimate and be one step behind us.”

“This is true. But we shouldn’t make it easy on them. Let’s throw them a few hurdles. Slow and tire them down until they reach us.”

“You acquired access to the mines, I assume.”

“Thanks to our little friend.”

“Traitorous brat.”

“We’ll deal with him and the amani once we’re done with them.”

“Excellent.”

“Better get down here or else I’ll detonate you along with the entrances.”

“One question, Xifos. What is the extent of a human’s strength? A female human.”

“Average I would say. No different from a twi’lek or nautolan. Why?”

“I believe this human female is above average. She has the strength that could possibly rival a wookiee’s.”

-

Móni and Maul had slipped through the hazardous machines working loudly, and spewing smoke and oil. Touching it burnt their skins and there wasn’t much room to get by in. When they finally exited the maze, they were covered in soot and oil, but were content to breathe cool air rather than the hot haze they came from.

On the edge of the cliff, they scanned the area below with no sign of the brothers.

“Knowing the one I dealt with, he’s not going make getting down there easy.” Móni put her hands on her hips.

“You think they expected us to escape,” Maul clarified rather than asked. “They’re going to play with us for sport before striking the final blow.” He stroked his chin.

“What do you have in mind?”

“We’re going to level the field on our terms. Literally.”

“With what?”

“This.” Maul extended a hand toward the drill.

Móni was not impressed. “And how are we going to do that?”

“The drill was created with layers. Each attachment is newer than the one before as they went deeper into the mine. The top-most and first drill is the weakest and most likely the most detachable. I will cut the attachments and you will send our gift to the enemy.”

“But where am I hurling it at? We don’t know where they are.”

Rather than answer, Maul separated his hand from his arm from behind his back and activated his commlink.

“Lord Maul,” Rook responded.

“Have you been keeping an eye on our acquaintances?”

“They are within one of the mobile shelters. The one closest to the mines.”

Móni searched for where she meant and spotted the nearest one to the east.

Without so much as affirming her response, he severed communication and returned his arm to his hand behind him, grasping onto where the woman had touched him.

“We have our target.”

Maul jumped onto the drill and grasped onto the welded ladder that traveled down its length. When he summoned the darksaber Móni made sure her astonishment was heard.

“What is that?”

He released the saber’s black blade and continued to sever the first attachment. The mechanism groaned from the lack of support.

“Can I get a lightsaber in that color?”

A scowl was her only reaction before he jumped and hung onto an exposed bolt. He sliced the next attachment and continued jumping and clinging onto exposed bits of metal or hardware to finish the rest. Before he sliced the final one, the drill’s top leaned towards Maul’s weight, but Móni held it in place with the Force.

Maul side glanced at her and checked if the object’s mass were of any consequence, but she was lax and in total concentration; not even a hint of struggle.

There was a distant vibration in the Force that stole Móni’s attention from the Maul's agile performance, but when she surveyed the area there was nothing out of the ordinary; not even the shelter the Dimachaeri were hidden in. But it did feel significantly warmer from the sweat running down her brow and into her eyes.

Oddly enough, the heat was directed at her back when the sun was high above her. Over her shoulder, the machinery was steaming from the heat and several shades brighter.

“Maul! All those machines are gonna blow behind us. They raised the core’s power beyond what these trash parts can handle.”

In one swift motion, Maul sliced the final attachment, pushed off the drill’s top, and flipped back to land at his apprentice’s side.

Móni motioned her hands as if she were lifting the part from beneath and it strained from the Force’s hold. The component rose off an interior tube that connected all the layers internally until it was finally free. The machines whistled from the pressure behind them when she hurled the massive object towards the shelter.

The master and apprentice wasted no time leaping off the cliff and past the scaffolding. As they fell, both watched the hunk of metal crash on top of the shelter, and the machinery on the cliff combusted and rose into a cloud of black and red flames.

“Did you see anything get out?”

“No,” Maul said with concern edged in his tone.

There was no movement around the buildings or even a shadow of their bodies that the sun could have possibly cast for them. Móni kneeled and connected her ear to the ground.

“What are you-?”

“Shh!”

Maul couldn’t say he wasn’t offended from being shushed at, but his curiosity bested him and waited patiently for Móni's next course of action whilst keeping vigilance on their area.

The ground was hard and dry, making it easier to detect sound other than soft earth which could absorb footfalls. Small objects rolled from the wind, the remnants of the explosion on the cliff vibrated the earth, and there were soft scrapes Móni recognized as the Dimachaeri’s claws.

She lifted her head and stared straight into a corner where the cliff met the wall and was shadowed by the scaffolding and the building she had destroyed.

A grappling hook shot out and was aimed directly at Móni, but she caught it with her hands and pulled hard to draw out the other end. But what came towards them in high momentum was not a Dimachaeri, but a red canister with a warning symbol stamped in black.

“What in the world?” Móni stared, just barely recognizing what it was.

“Move!”

Maul hauled her by the collar and threw themselves out of the canister's exploding range, its cloud of flames not far from singeing their skin.

“What are these guys? Demolition experts?” Móni huffed and coughed out the fumes she inhaled.

“We need to close the distance. They are more lethal out of range.”

“On it.”

Móni took hold of a pole that formed the scaffold’s base with the Force and pulled it out of place, dilapidating the structure into the shadowed corner.

Both Dimachaeri ran out from hiding, to which Maul and Móni raised their hands and Force pulled the creatures their way.

Their bodies dragged across the dirt, raising a trail of yellow dust behind them. Xifos whipped his bladed tail when he was within range, but Maul ignited the darksaber and burned the end of it off triggering a howl of pain from the poor creature. But he did not relent. Xifos ignited his deflector shield and unsheathed a vibroblade.

Maul bared his teeth in wicked delight when he sensed the fear in him. “Are you prepared to die, creature?” He did not give it time to respond and showered it with relentless swings it could only defend itself against for so long.

Móni planted Lepida’s face to the ground, suffocating him. He writhed from the hold until he slowed and stopped entirely. She held him down a few seconds longer, but there was no movement. With some uncertainty, she released her hold and watched the limp body intensely. There was something off about its position, and Móni only discovered it too late.

Lepida’s arms were tucked underneath himself, and when she flipped him over with the Force, his visible eye was keen on her and held an elctro-shock prod on his chest. He aimed and shot the tip of the device into her thigh, sending a volt of electricity through her body and bringing her to her knees.

In her numbed state, Lepida pushed himself off the ground and bound her hands with stuncuffs.

“That should keep you down,” he spat at her.

Móni’s blurred vision adjusted from the shock and saw Maul was now battling the twins at the same time. The one she fought was trying to swipe its claws at his back and the other kept deflecting his attacks with his shield. She shook her head.

Gotta get up.

When she stood the stuncuffs sent a jolt of electricity through her, rendering her to nearly complete numbness.

The Mandalorian’s flew over her and assisted Maul, firing their blasters at them, but whatever they were wearing underneath their thick cloaks stunted the bolts from injuring them. One took a grappling hook around its tail, but it was severed instantly by the brother. A stream of flame shot out from one of their vambraces, but the one with the shield deflected it and the other whipped its tail at the warrior, its blades digging into their armor.

Get. Up.

Móni planted one foot on the ground, and it took more energy than she expected just to complete that movement. She huffed and pulled her hands apart to sever the stuncuffs. Electricity ran up her arms, but she blocked out the pain and pushed through. She gathered the Force within her and into the palm of her hands, and spread her arms apart. Just barely she heard the steel straining under the pressure.

Her teeth gnashed together, and her muscles ached from the effort and shock. But she was almost there. She could hear it.

With a scream that came from the pit of her stomach, the Force exploded in her hands and she pulled the bonds apart.

The Dimachaeri stopped in stunned silence at the woman who was drenched in sweat and steaming from the amount of static her body endured. Maul and the Mandalorian’s too took a moment to witness the human who shattered the stuncuffs.

She could barely stand and her body swayed from the exertion, but she gathered enough strength to hold the twins immobile with the Force.

“Now, Maul. Before I pass out,” Móni slurred.

Lepida and Xifos exchanged their final glances. A bond so strong and cultivated for many years was being severed, and they accepted it.

“Goodbye, Brother,” Lepida muttered.

Maul raised the darksaber, content to finally be rid of them.

Xifos sucked in a shaky breath. “Goodbye.”

Everything they needed to say was felt, their emotions exposed, and it struck Móni hard in the chest.

“Move.” Móni’s eyes were wild. “Get out of the way!”

She released the twins and shoved Maul and the Mandalorians back.

Lepida combusted into an inferno of flames and propelled Móni back from the force of it.

Xifos’ shield enlarged to encompass his body and made a break for the speeders at the compound’s exit.

Móni stood but fell back to the ground from exhaustion. “Great.”

“After it!” Rook commanded her squad.

Two of them landed in front of Xifos with their jetpacks, cutting his escape, and Rook had her flamethrower pointed at his back. Maul sauntered in behind her with his darksaber at his side.

“No more tricks, hunter?” Maul mocked.

“I’m afraid not.”

Xifos was lifted off the ground, the Force clenched around his neck. He gasped his final breaths before Maul ran him through with the black saber and tossed the body on the ground.

“Go find the sugi leader and kill him and anyone else who opposes.”

“Sir!” Rook and her men left the area with their orders.

Maul searched the corpse’s body and retrieved his lightsaber before he made his way back to Móni. Her body remained on the ground with some minor motions from her hands and legs.

He crouched at her side and took in her injuries. She suffered some burns from the Dimachaeri’s combustion, and her hands were much too red. He hilted his lightsabers and lifted the woman in his arms.

“Wait,” she mumbled and pointed to the burnt hunter. “I need to see.”

He did what she asked and stood over the black mass of flesh. Her eyes closed and she delved into its mind.

Móni captured what she could from what life remained in the husk. Images of Jedi and their padawans being slaughtered, living life as nomads from ship to ship, sailing across the stars with nothing but the other’s company, and even further… further. In the recesses of his mind, so far back it was almost forgotten, was the interior of a ship with technology she did not recognize; not even of that from the Old Republic. In the vessel were those of his race in plenty, although they were much more attractive to the eyes than the twins were. Their bodies gleamed with lovely scales of vibrant hues, their tails were long and slender, and their faces were marked with designs that shimmered in the light. And their star-shaped pupils were as bright as the stars themselves. Then she saw a map displayed on a screen of a galaxy she did not recognize.

She returned to the feeling of Maul’s arms around her shoulder and beneath her legs and nodded.

“I’m so tired.” Her head rested against his shoulder and she took in a new scent that sent her heart fluttering. It reminded her of something she smelled once as a child. A flower, she recalled, that survived without sunlight in the caves of her homeworld. It was comforting.

“Lord Maul,” Rook called. “The sugis have been taken care of. We also have word from Baelis and the others. It seems we’ve made contact with Dryden Vos and he’s willing to make a trade for the stolen goods.”

“Where are these supplies?” His chest rumbled and vibrated into Móni’s body.

“On D’Qar. Móni had them sent there. It’s been checked for any tracking and we won’t be found.”

“I will contact him when we reach the ship.”

“Sir,” Rook obeyed. Then she hesitated. “Do you want us to take her off your…”

Maul moved past them and made his way for the speeders.

After several steps of silence, Móni felt his chest vibrate before he spoke.

“You did well, apprentice.”

“Not adequate?”

There was a pause before he answered, and when he did, she could have sworn she heard a smile in his tone.

“No.”

Chapter Text

Maul exited the briefing room with Gar and Rook at his sides, somewhat pleased.

“Send who you can to return the vessel to Vos.”

“Sir,” Gar obeyed.

“My Lord, what’s our next move,” Rook asked once Gar made his way out. “Now that we have a face for the public eye.”

“Vos will continue as he does and as will we. Only his corrupt dealings with the dignitaries and politicians will now be for the Crimson Veil’s interests. We will take action when he comes across any issues with swaying them to our side.”

Rook nodded but did not leave her lord just yet. Maul sensed her hesitance, a rare quality from his fiercest Mandalorian.

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes.” She avoided eye contact for a few moments before finding her lord’s again. “Baelis has something to show you concerning Móni.”

A deep frown weighed his features and his glare turned sharp; although Rook knew it wasn’t meant for her, she still winced from it.

“Show me.”

In his quarters, Maul watched a hologram recording of the apprentice speaking with the half theelin child and the amani. He had expected this, no doubt, but her actions on Andelm IV proved otherwise. She fought until her body could no longer fight and followed his instructions without issue. There was no feeling of ill intent nor did she show any signs of hesitation when she fought alongside him. She was with him every motion of the way, so what had she planned?

He gripped his fist and followed his instincts of subjugation and stormed out.

In the apprentice’s dark quarters, she was motionless underneath the thin bedsheets. Maul held his hand before her face ready to torture her through dreams and force the truth from her. His teeth ground together into a snarl when he could not bring himself to. When it was clear his body was rejecting his mind, he threw his arm back to his side. The woman was so peaceful in slumber, her face serene and calm; unbecoming qualities that clashed with her personality. It didn’t suit her.

Her thick, black curls were sprawled over the pillow in a tangled mess and framed her dark features, and he considered how different she appeared without it in the usual taut style. A thin, curled strand was caught in her lashes, and without considering what he was doing he reached for it. But he retracted when he heard the wheel of her droid approaching.

It entered the room with a clean pair of clothing and said nothing about his presence.

Maul found the droid to be as distasteful as the apprentice, but it has more willingness to comply than its owner.

“I have a few questions for you, droid.”

“Ask.”

“What were your plans with the woman after Andelm IV?”

“Not sure.”

Maul did all he could to keep himself from crushing it with the Force. The level of impudence the droid and its master had was astounding. “Do not lie to me, droid. I am aware you spoke with the theelin child and amani before you reached Andelm IV.”

“And?”

The Force was ready to do as he commanded in the palm of his hand, but he took a moment to register what it meant. “She was conflicted.”

“As usual.”

He glanced at the comatose woman—fatigued of her constantly running around him in circles. She did not know when to stop.

“You know,” the droid spoke. “You can just talk to her. She loves talking.”

Conversation. Maul couldn’t say he enjoyed making time for something so needless. Every comment, every word he uttered was deliberate and held purpose, as Master taught him. Anything more was considered a distraction. But he painfully comprehended how the apprentice did not respond to methods of suppression. She soaked in his lessons when he spoke and illustrated his demands, and incredibly well at that. Stooping further to her level would mean teetering off his pedestal as master, and that was unacceptable. He refused.

But he may have to if he wanted answers. He did not forget their last “conversation” before he sent her away with Avin and the others. She did not relent to his questions and stood her ground along with a torn table.

She could be correct on this one matter: if he wanted her to cooperate with him, he needed to make some effort on his end.

-

Móni couldn’t recall when she slipped into unconsciousness. It was sometime after Maul had set her in the speeder with him and before they reached his ship. Between those moments, she hoped she mentioned Betts, otherwise, she dreamt it and the droid was waiting alone on a planet; not that she would complain about being away from Móni anyways.

Her dreams were loud and terrifying. The screams of children, mothers, fathers, and animals echoed in an empty void. Embers of what was left scattered into her hands and she felt it—the planet’s life withering away into nothing and back to the Force.

She awoke in darkness. When her eyes adjusted, she recognized the minimal furniture and console as her room in the Crimson Veil’s headquarters.

A pair of lights illuminated in the corner as did the vocabulator when she spoke. “Oh good. You’re awake.”

“Betts.” She switched the lights on and rubbed her eyes. “I had a dream I may have left you on Andelm IV.”

“You almost did. Wish I was left there.”

“I’m sure.”

“You’ve been asleep for a day.”

Móni stretched her arms and spine. “I needed it.”

“And you have a new scar. Congratulations. Burns have been healed as well.”

On the forearm where the Dimachaeri pierced her with the blades of his tail, was a thin scar no longer than her pinky finger. She hummed with indifference when a memory struck her.

“Where’s the stuff I was wearing?”

“Not here.”

“I hoped you cleared out the pockets.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Móni exhaled loudly and extended her hand. Betts rolled to her and gave her the crystal.

“You know what it is?” Móni held it to the light. She could distinctly hear a lyrical ring and feel a pulse of life in her fingertips.

“A crystal?”

“I don’t think it’s a normal crystal.”

Betts was far from interested. “Fascinating.”

“I’m starving. What time is it?”

“A little past midnight.”

“Good time to eat.”

Betts watched Móni roll out of bed and dressed. “So, are we avoiding the subject?”

“What do you mean?”

“About Kyp and Zione.”

Móni fell back to the bed and put her head in her hands. She may have deliberately put it aside in her mind to be dealt with later when she could come to terms with everything that had happened. But only one of the many events struck her the most, and it wasn’t even the ability to levitate. Her hands turned into fists over her eyes when she recounted the feeling of skin under her fingertips, the gaze of wonder staring back at her, and the scent. Stars, the scent still lingered around her.

She released her face with a huff and stared beyond the dull wall. Móni understood what needed to be done, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to and that thought scared her even more. Just thinking about it stilled her breaths and sent her blood pumping fast making it more difficult to ruminate on it seriously.

When her hand was in his, she was liberated and secure. He believed in her and everything she could become; more than she did in herself. And for once, as she floated above him, she was happy with who she was. That may have been when she made her choice.

“What’s wrong with me, Betts?”

“How much time you have to hear it?”

“Yeah. That’s probably why.”

The halls were silent with everyone asleep in their quarters, save for a few mouse droids who roamed the floors for maintenance and cleanup. There was not a sound but her steps and Betts’ single wheel whirring into the mess hall. The emptiness felt strange when Móni was accustomed to cooking over the sounds of laughter, shouting, and spoons hitting the metal trays.

“Can’t remember the last time I cooked by myself.”

“Had to have been before you met me and Kyp.”

Móni hummed in deep thought as she considered if there ever was a time.

In the kitchens Móni examined their stock of produce and meats in the cooling chamber where a few have begun to rot and mold. “Avin may be right about trying to live off the planet’s resources. Gone a day or two and things go to waste.” She picked out what was edible and when she turned to lay them on the island her selection jumped in her arms when an unexpected visitor stood silently behind the counter.

“I didn’t… I didn’t sense you.”

Maul’s gaze penetrated her eyes so much so, it took effort to keep her from looking away.

He is not in a good mood.

She held her breath when she narrowed down the options of what it could be. But rather than be the one to bring it up, she swerved around the topic.

“I was gonna make myself something. You want any?”

A shadow passed over his features and made the first move by coming around the counter and into the kitchen. He set a holoprojector on the island and it displayed an audio/hologram recording of her speaking with Kyp and Zione on Avin’s ship.

Rather than watch the recording, Móni focused on Maul who was strangely silent and reserved, but his rage was boiling beneath the surface which was enough to raise concerns. She released the items in her arms alongside the projector and tapped her finger fast on the cool surface.

Móni licked her dry lips before speaking. “My plan was to escape with Betts after I killed the Dimachaeri and reunite with them. But I don’t think that’s happening anymore.”

He still said nothing, but his anger was reaching the breaking point, shaking his fists.

“Look.” Móni gave up and laid everything out for him. “I did everything you asked me to do and more. And, I mean, I wasn’t going to leave you empty-handed. But why does it matter now? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Your loyalty is wavering,” he finally spoke. His tone was even and deep and lacked any of the anger he was suppressing underneath sending chills down her neck. “Or do you require assistance in making a choice?”

“I made my choice.” Móni did not overlook it; Maul was purposely controlling himself to allow her to speak freely. He was making some kind of effort, which was more than she expected. It also meant he understood there was more than what the hologram showed and was willing to listen. Her body deflated from the tension and leaned against the island.

“Maul,” she began, to give herself time to form the words. “I don’t understand what I am. I never had. And I never cared to find out. Not until you forced me under your apprenticeship… Sort of. I did let it happen,” Móni confessed. “I’m excited and scared to face myself and learn the truth, because I know I’m not gonna like what I find out. But I can’t keep running forever and being with Zione and Kyp will only put them at risk. Palpatine will eventually find me and you are my safest option.” She stopped and glanced at Maul who had his attention intensely on her. Her cheeks warmed from either the embarrassment of exposing herself or his attentiveness. Móni wagered on both.

I want to understand myself better and I know that can happen with you.” Móni removed herself from the island and faced Maul directly. “I will be your apprentice. Officially, I guess. I don’t think I really agreed before.”

Her heart stopped at the relief that cascaded over his face and shoulders, but the frown and steel eyes returned not a moment later. When he spoke, the image still stuck in her mind and only rendered what he said halfway through.

“Your theelin and amani friends will still be kept under my surveillance if you choose to stray again.”

Móni blinked and managed to pick up what was said in the last half of his sentence. “Yeah. Okay.” Then it hit her, “No! I mean. So, they’re okay?”

“For now.” He took the holoprojector and began his exit, but not before he picked up a ration bar from a bin filled with them. He threw the last few words over his shoulder. “No training this morning. We will resume in the following rotation.”

“Oh. Alright.” Móni did not hide her disappointment.

Betts, who had watched their conversation in silence, inclined her head at her master who kept a firm stare at Maul as he left the mess hall.

“Something on your mind?”

“You saw him pick up a ration bar, right?”

“Yes.”

Móni’s grin reached her ears when she faced Betts. “We discovered his eating hour.”

The coming morning, many Crimson Veil members sighed their relief when they saw Móni bustling in the kitchens preparing their break fast. A few expressed their pleasure in being able to have a proper meal and others mentioned how spoiled they’ve been not having to eat ration bars as much anymore. When they mentioned it, Maul came to mind, and all day she contemplated what she could make for him.

When Baelis meandered in—the only one wearing his full armor set—he froze at the sight of her and was the opposite of pleased from what Móni felt.

“You’re still here,” he said simply, then added as an afterthought, “Ma’am.”

Móni removed a tray of thinly sliced meat from the voltaic kiln and set them on the island while Betts plated them onto trays. “Is that the tattletale I hear?”

“Lord Maul assigned me the task to spy on your people.”

“That so?” she placed a slice of buttered unleavened bread on each tray and set them on the counter for the next group to take. “Just so you know Kyp is a better slicer than you and Betts combined, so make sure he doesn’t track you here, otherwise I won’t be the one Lord Maul will be upset at. Tray?”

Baelis was agonizingly still, but his stare went through his helmet and directly where he wished to blast Móni. “I’ll take a ration bar.”

Móni placed it delicately before him. “Happy break fast.”

Around noon, Avin and Myn came in together and saw the mess hall was scarce.

“Must have slept through break fast.” Myn scratched his head.

Avin was the least concerned about eating and went straight for Móni who was hunched over a datapad. When he approached the counter, she was quick to respond.

“Only tea, fruit, and bread while we prep for lunch.”

“Móni.”

At his voice, Móni looked up. “Hey, Avin. How are you guys?”

“We turned out better than you did from what we heard.”

Móni shrugged. “Just a few burns and cuts. Nothing big.”

“Listen, Móni,” Avin began with an apologetic tone, but was cutoff when Móni raised her hand.

“It’s fine. I understand Maul had you keep an eye on me. But we talked it over and everything is fine. So, no big deal. You were just doing your job.”

“Maul?” Myn wondered. “It wasn’t Lord Maul who gave the order was it?”

“No, it was Rook,” Avin explained. “She wanted us to keep tabs on you.”

A part of her hoped it was Maul who gave the order, just so she could dislike him a little more, but in fact the opposite was in effect. “Well that surprises me even less.”

“Is it true?” Myn edged close to the counter with big hazel eyes. “You shattered durasteel stuncuffs?”

“What?”

“The whole clan has been talking about it,” he continued. “You’ve become a big deal.”

“No one has come up to me about it all morning.” Móni didn’t quite believe the news.

“That’s because,” Avin explained, “it’s as if you’ve officially become a member of Crimson Veil and Lord Maul’s apprentice. You’re closer to him than Rook and Gar now.”

Móni raised her brows with doubt. “I still know squat of what goes on around here, and I’m not invited in any of their briefings, so don’t put me on too high up there.”

“Oh please,” Myn scoffed. “That just means they’re stuck dealing with all the boring stuff while you get to be a part of the important action.”

“You do know I had no idea Maul was on Andelm IV, right? Would have been nice to know.”

Avin inclined his head with some understanding. “We were the only three who were told because Rook wanted us to be in communication with her and Gar in case of an emergency.”

“Like me going AWOL?”

“Yes,” Avin agreed quickly. “And obviously the ones who went with her and Maul.”

Móni leaned back in the seat she was in and processed the information. “I’m still not entirely sure what this means for me, but all I did was get Maul what he wanted.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Myn’s sudden switch in emotions deserved a strange reaction from Móni, “what this means to our people. You did Maul and the Crimson Veil a great honor by getting him closer to his goals. This was a huge step in his next phase, and you were the reason it went so well.”

Was that why he was so relieved to hear her officially state her apprenticeship? Because she had become essential to his plans? That moment glued itself to her thoughts. How his brows eased, the lines of anger smoothed, and his frown shrunk. She wondered what exactly she struck in him to create such an expression.

“I don’t deserve any credit.” She recalled almost being lifted into the unknown because of her lack of self-control. If Maul hadn’t been there she was a dead woman, and he could have let her go. “Your Lord is really something else.”

The way she spoke gave Avin and Myn pause to possibly unearth something deep and private in the woman’s mind. However, she pushed onto something else, their chance lost.

“Were you guys hungry?”

“A bit,” Myn chuckled.

“Betts and I are prepping lunch now. If you want, I can make some tea and slice some fruit while you wait.”

“Yes. Thank you,” Avin sat at the counter.

“Also, Avin,” Móni poured hot water into a cup. “I think you were onto something about acquiring our resources from the planet. I’d like to help with that if I can.”

For several hours, Avin and Móni spoke about what could be done to survive on their own terms rather than depend on shipments from other organizations to supply the Crimson Veil. Móni could have spoken about it for the whole day as the subject of farming and agriculture triggered forgotten memories from childhood, but Avin had duties to attend to and left in the middle of the afternoon.

The remainder of her time was spent on quickly selecting items for supper and engrossing herself in a datapad finding something to make that could possibly sit well with the Sith Crime Lord.

“That’s why I ask questions about your stupid legs,” she mumbled while biting her thumbnail. She was aware his digestive system was more sensitive than most, as half of it was severed. “Soup maybe? But what kind?” She hit the pad against her forehead and groaned.

Someone cleared their throat for Móni’s attention.

At the counter was Rook in armor with her helmet underneath her arm. She struggled with her words before she spoke and looked at Móni with some level of disgust. “Ma’am.” Once the title made it past her lips, she looked in less pain. “There’s something we need to discuss about your dealings with the Ante.”

“You don’t have to call me Ma’am.”

Rook clearly didn’t want to get into this conversation, but she forced herself to comply. “Then what title do you prefer?”

“Móni is fine.”

“I can’t do that. It will be insubordination,” she said with a tight jaw.

“Not the way I see it.” Móni met the woman at the counter. “You know more about Maul’s plans, connections, and rivals than I do; which is close to nothing. He doesn’t share that stuff with me.”

The new information stunned Rook into silence. She rested her helmet on the counter and thought carefully. “Are you not his apprentice? The way you fought with the Dimachaeri, you made abundantly clear you were.”

“You know me. I’m more trouble than I’m worth. And I know he didn’t trust me much before, hence why I was put on the mission.”

Clarity raised the Mandalorian’s brows. “He wanted to know if you could be trusted.”

“He was not wrong not to, though.” Móni eyed her sharply. “And you.”

“I was surprised when Lord Maul continued to talk about you as if nothing happened. He only explained in part why.” She scrutinized the woman before her, hoping to get more information.

But Móni rather liked keeping her in the dark, mainly because she didn’t want to divulge any more about Kype and Zione than was necessary, and partly out of spite.

“What was it you needed to know about the Ante?”

A quirked brow and pursed lips were all Rook could give on the response and continued. “Did you make sure he won’t sell any information about us than what we like? We did expect him to be taken care of.”

“I was told. But, yes, we made sure. Didn’t your snitch tell you?”

“I was tasked to ask you directly as you were the one who gave the order.”

“Maul?”

“Lord Maul. Yes.”

And he couldn’t ask me himself, why?  “I had Baelis and Betts look into anyone who may be giving the Ante some trouble and we found one. So, we gave him the information we found and saved him hundreds of thousands of credits he wasn’t paid.” Móni shrugged. “That’s it.”

Móni couldn’t tell if Rook was pleased or disturbed, but the answer proved enough for her to place the helmet over her head.

“Ma’am.” The title came off strongly, but she spoke it out of respect toward the woman then made her exit.

“You’re popular today.” Betts rolled in setting clean pots onto the nanowave stove.

“Seems like it.” Móni returned to the datapad and found a breakthrough. “I got it!”

Into the evening Móni toiled over preparations and set them aside in a corner which she had told Betts more than once not to touch as the droid did its own tasks of setting supper.

If Móni cared to notice, Betts was awfully silent while she observed her master’s fussing and bustling over something so trivial. She could only suspect it had something to do with some organic mating ritual and as much she was intrigued by the notion to mention it for Móni’s reaction, it was apparent she wouldn’t even hear her in the first place. The woman was intensely focused on making sure everything was perfect before she decided it met her standards to finally help the droid with the meal.

Supper was the busiest time of the day for Móni and Betts. It was when every member had finished their duties or shift and gathered together to wind down. Some entered with dirty and scratched armor, too tired to have it removed, and there have been some who came with a blaster still in hand forgetting to put it away. But their bodies would straighten, and their heads perked the moment they neared the counter as the smell drew them in. When the lines of their worn faces lifted into eagerness and delight at the sight of a well-prepared meal, Móni reveled in it, as if it was the only purpose she needed.

As Móni delivered the final touches on the trays with combinations of sautéed greens, roasted meat, and herbal grains there was a knock on the counter.

“Welcome back,” Gar smirked. “Back in the kitchens, I see.”

“Good to be back in my habitat.” Móni placed the trays on the counter to be taken and saw the Lieutenant did not take any. Knowing she was in for another round of chit-chat, she leaned in. “Yes?”

“Don’t we have booze somewhere back there?”

“They’re locked away and Avin is the only one I know who has the cypher.” Móni was not buying into the conversation but went along with him.

“Whose bright idea was it to lock them?”

Móni raised unimpressed eyebrows. “You?”

“Actually, it was Rook and I had to enforce it.”

“That must have been a painful experience for you.”

“You have no idea,” Gar lamented. “But now you’re technically the new boss, Ma’am, maybe we can bend some of the rules just a smidge for a hard day’s work.”

“Eat the food, Gar. Some say it’s just as good as having a good, stiff drink.”

Not overly disappointed and a bit frustrated, Gar scoffed. “It’s not the same.”

“Sorry,” Móni shrugged without much sympathy.

“You know, we may need to find someone else to be in the kitchens when you’re gone. I imagine Lord Maul will be having more work cut out for you from now on.”

The idea was conflicting. Móni battled with enthusiasm to finally be integrated into whatever Maul’s plans were, and dissatisfaction because the kitchen was her source of comfort.

“Also,” Gar continued. “I don’t think being a cook is fit for someone of your status.”

Móni crossed her arms. “You think being a cook is demeaning?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Takes a lot of work to come up with a meal that can feed an army and then make enough for said army. There’s also rationing and food costs to take into consideration. And since this is an organization outfitted like an army, there are diet restrictions and people have food preferences. And I haven’t even gotten into the skills one needs to actually make it and taste good.”

“Alright, alright.” Gar raised his hands, not expecting to be attacked. “I get it. You take it seriously. But that doesn’t solve the issue.”

“Betts can handle most of it, all she needs is someone to help her out. And not the other way around.”

“I’ll see who I can find,” he conceded as he took a tray.

“I do have a question for you.” Móni stopped him. “How do I make supply requests for myself?”

Gar furrowed his brows in thought. “I think that may be a question for Lord Maul. He makes his own requests separate from ours. He values his privacy above all else.”

Somehow, asking Maul for something frivolous like personal items was something she felt he would consider a waste of time and not give a thought on how to answer. He already does that when she asks perfectly harmless and legitimate questions. “You can’t make a separate account for me for special requests? I promise I won’t get anything financially straining.”

“We’re already on a budget taking profit and splitting amongst the Pykes and Black Suns, and everything is processed. I promise you it will be a lot faster if whatever you ask for is under Maul’s name. He gets whatever he needs no matter the cost.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“Why look so down? You’ve had more conversations with him than the rest of us combined. Shouldn’t be that hard to talk to him.”

Móni gave a dry chuckle and moved away to return to her work. “You would think.”

Gar hummed his understanding before finding a seat alongside some of his brethren.

“What are you smirking about, Gar,” one of them asked.

The lieutenant took a sip of his tea and set it down. “An interesting duo, aren’t they?”

-

Jabba the Hutt spoke as a hologram transmission to the only being in the room who stared back without any regard of respect towards the head of the most powerful crime family in the galaxy.

“You can keep your territory, Jabba. It’s of no interest to me, unlike our Emperor who has been making efforts in securing it. Which I hear has already been underway.”

The massive Hutt narrowed his watery eyes and his lip curled back.

Pleased to have the upper hand in the discussion, Maul continued. “I can forgive your plot against me if you allow me to continue to orchestrate the underworld in a way I see fit to overthrow the very Empire who undermines your power and seeks to destroy it. Your dealings and business matter little to me and you can continue as you were. All I ask is to be respected in the same level of power as you and the other families. The Pykes and Black Suns have my support, but the others won’t accept unless you grant it, oh Great Jabba.”

Jabba worked his slimy mouth at the way Maul uttered his title with scorn, but then his sour mood shifted to one of amusement. A fat tongue licked his mouth and spoke in Huttese to the Sith Crime Lord. [Very well. I accept the Crimson Veil as a member of the crime syndicates. We’ll see how long that lasts,] his rolled under his thick skin when he laughed.

Maul held his sneer at the comment, but he could not control his glower. “The Black Suns has control over the site on Andelm IV and the other weapons arms dealers. You may consult with them on that matter.”

Jabba nodded his head, still holding a glint of enjoyment in his large eyes that set the fury in Maul’s chest aflame, and ended the transmission.

The Hutt’s mockery vanished from his memories, noting that the judgment was minuscule compared to the grand scheme of his vision. And the vision has expanded since the recruitment of the apprentice.

“I will be your apprentice.”

Her words had not stopped ringing in his ears since she spoke them.

Maul leaned his back against the console and played back her justification. The woman was confused and lost in her own power and understood little about it. She understood her capabilities but not what they meant, and never sought any answers.

He focused his attention on the monotonous ceiling when he uncovered a somewhat burdensome element to this apprenticeship: she was seeking help. If Maul was disciplined and hard on himself enough, he would ignore such a plea and focus all her training on cultivating her latent power and using it to destroy Master. But his curiosity overwhelmed any logic for he too wanted to uncover her mysteries. And he rationalized with himself that making such discoveries would lead to him understanding her abilities, thus making her even more powerful.

I have an apprentice. Even if the woman was insufferable and disrespectful, she did her due diligence when the need arose and cooperated well enough when they fought against the Dimachaeri. She was almost… perfect. If only she tapped more into the Dark Side, then she would be a formidable Sith who could possibly rival his master’s apprentice. What he needed to do was unlock the source of her rage, which he had yet to uncover. He had considered altering her hate and anger towards him, but she wasn’t easy to manipulate and her first instinct on any signs of severe mistreatment would be to flee because of her strong-will. Maul stroked his chin and considered how she harbored no hate for Master either, only fear.

He pushed off the console and made for the automatic door. Maul could deliberate how to tackle the woman—now she was officially his to command—all he wanted, but they both needed to focus on the next task which was constructing a lightsaber. When he stepped out into the hall, a vivid image of her mess of dark curls flashed in his mind’s eye. No matter how long he meditated he could not forget the way they bounced when she moved or how some of the strands gently touched her cheeks and jaw. It was as if he was looking at someone else entirely, but her manner of speech and curious eyes reminded him that she was his wearisome apprentice.

And the way her voice strained with disappointment when he pushed back their training. It pleased him, to a certain extent, to know she enjoyed their training.

That may be where he was doing wrong. She was enjoying herself too much and he was allowing it.

Maul made his way down the hall, rubbing his temple from the headache forming. His training wasn’t ‘fun’. It was gruesome and he reprimanded her harshly when she did wrong or talked back. What in all the ten regions is going on inside that head of hers?

He took a moment to collect himself when he approached his quarters and a quiet thought surfaced, easing the tension of anger on his features and softening into a frown.

Did Savage enjoy the time they trained and spent together?

Maul mumbled a curse under his breath for even questioning it. It didn’t matter. Not anymore.

At midnight Maul awoke from a nap, surrounded by datapads and a holoprojector he used to communicate with various crime lords. He rubbed the sleep off his face and groaned from his stiff spine when he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He struggled to stand and leaned on the side table for some mild support while he adjusted the settings on his belt that connected his organic body to his cybernetic half. A pain of needles entered the nerves of his spine and spread out to the ends of his fingertips and the crown of his head when his torso straightened. A sigh of relief escaped when the pain eased, and he was able to move his legs out of their rigid state.

He left his quarters and strode the empty halls, the silence soothing his mind from the day’s extremities, but the light from the mess hall proved otherwise. Not only was there a copious amount of movement from within, a smell wafted through the closed door. He couldn’t imagine a member would be out this late and if one was, they usually scatter at the sight of him which he hoped exactly would happen the moment he entered.

But it was so much worse instead. The minute he entered the apprentice poked her head over the counter and smiled in the way she usually did when there was some mischief about.

“Look who’s here.” She retracted and continued whatever she was busying herself with. “Find yourself a seat at the counter.”

Maul took careful steps as he made his approach. The island was littered with dishware and pieces of food the droid was scooping and tossing into the incinerator. At the nanowave stove was the apprentice stirring something in a pot where the aroma’s source derived from. He also noted that the bin for ration bars was locked.

A slow and steady glance made its way to the woman, suspicion edged in every second that passed. “What are you conspiring?”

The woman didn’t sport her taught style, but her curls were lifted loosely out of her face. Confusion etched her smooth features when she rested a hand on her hip.

“I’m making you something. Isn’t that obvious?”

“I do not need your foodstuff,” he snarled and made his way around to the ration bars. He attempted a few sequences to open it, but none worked. His impatience was boiling in his veins and the rage pounded in his chest. Maul had no idea what the woman was trying to pull, but he would not be privy to whatever her intentions were. He waved a hand over the device and with the Force overloaded its circuits to open the case. However, before he could lift it, the woman sat herself down on the bin with legs crossed and arms folded over her chest.

A growl erupted from his throat as a warning, but she kept that sardonic smirk and unabashed stare which meant she had already made up her mind on exasperating him until the rage could no longer be contained.

“What is it,” he spoke in a steady tone with a dangerous quiver, “you want?”

“I want you to eat. Real food.”

Maul put his whole attention on her for the first time since he entered, unsure of what to make of her request.

She continued, “Don’t you get tired of eating this stuff? It’s like eating tasteless dust.”

“It has the necessary nutrients any sentient being needs. There is nothing more to discuss on the matter.”

“At least try what I made. I spent a lot of time picking what to make while also taking under consideration any dietary restrictions you may have.”

At this, Maul turned away. His shoulders shook and he gripped his hand tight behind his back. He was reaching his breaking point and was very close to throttling her perfectly slender neck with the Force. But her emotions shifted, all humor lost and replaced with melancholy. The change was so abrupt that he faced her once more and saw concern folding the skin between her brows.

She was reading him again and it did not sit well with him. The whole ordeal was not worth a ration bar and thus he decided to sleep hungry. It wasn’t the first time he’s had to and was confident in surviving a day on an empty stomach. Without a word he began his exit.

“Maul.”

He shouldn’t have stopped at the gentle voice calling his name, like a soft caress against his ear. He shouldn’t have been intrigued by this woman’s new show of personality that felt almost compassionate.

She appeared before him like a phantom with the rush of his beating hearts in his ears.

“I’m not mocking you." The honesty was so genuine he couldn’t look her way. “If you really need a reason then…” She scratched her head in thought and sighed with some frustration. “A thank you? Who would have thought I would ever learn to fly or levitate or whatever it was that happened? I swore to myself I would never jump again, and I got over this fear I had since I was a child. And it was because of you.”

The bright Sith-like irises stared at him without the rage and hatred and repulsiveness that a Sith should express. Instead, something else shined behind them and he was left without words at their meaning. It disgusted him. It charmed him. Never has any being looked upon him the way she had then: with kindness. It felt undeserving and wrong, and he bared a cuspid at her to force the expression away. But, of course… of course it had the opposite effect. The woman smiled at him in turn.

“Well? Am I being rejected, or will you accept the invitation? Can’t leave a girl hanging.”

“I should have released you to the Force and into the empty void and be rid of you.”

She was shocked by his words at first, but not in the way he had expected. Not a moment later she erupted into a fit of laughter, holding her stomach at the amount of it.

Maul blinked at the spectacle with some confusion, the anger dialed down to a simmer in his veins from the new sound. It was loud and obnoxious, but not altogether unpleasant. When she eased herself to a few hiccupping chuckles, she dabbed away the tears from her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and her aura was washed away of all depression, fear, and melancholy he was so accustomed to feeling from her. He wondered if this was her true character.

“You’re funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. I meant every word.”

“I know. That’s why it was.” A snarl broke his composure, but she hardly noticed it. “Please,” she begged. “This will be the last time I ask.”

The only thing Maul wondered was what he could possibly gain from meeting her request. And what did she gain? There was only one way to find out was there? And that was to comply, as much as he found discomfort in the idea.

He turned his back to her and made his way around the counter. He paused at the seat, deliberating whether he made the right decision in giving her the upper hand. But he thought it best to let it play through and bring her to the ground if he caught anything amiss.

Content with this plan, he sat down, held his hands together in prayer, and waited.

The woman was besides herself. Her feelings of joy were so strong it affected his own emotions in turn. He barred himself as best he could from them, but they lingered around him like an insect that won’t go away.

She compiled several ingredients and liquid into two bowls then sprinkled something or other on top of it. She set the steaming bowl down in front of him and a utensil. While she made her way around, Maul analyzed the concoction. Soaked in a clear broth were elements of the soup separated into sections: a nest made with strings of cooked grain, sliced and roasted pantoran fungi, shili green stuffs, and cubes of seasoned bean curds. What she sprinkled as a garnish were sliced apium and benne seeds.

The apprentice took her place next to him and beamed. “Hope you like it. It’s my first time making it,” and took a sip for herself. She inclined her head and hummed a slight approval before taking in some more. 

Maul lifted the bowl and sniffed the mixed scent of herbs and vegetables before putting it to his mouth. He let the taste settle on his tongue before swallowing, then licked his lips. Before he knew what had come over him, he took another sip and digged in, enjoying the savory flavors on his tongue and its soothing warmth down his throat and into his stomach. He didn’t think, no, he had never eaten anything as enjoyable as this; not under the apprenticeship of his master or when he ruled Mandalore.

“So,” the woman began between mouthfuls. “Have I convinced you that I’m not a Jedi?”

“Yes,” Maul was certain. “Your abilities would have been tamed by a Jedi’s hand before you would know you had them.”

“You mean they wouldn’t have liked whatever I was?”

“No,” hatred spewed from his gut. “They fear power and you are,” he breathed in, taking a moment to acknowledge what he had been telling himself for weeks. “Powerful.”

“Powerful enough to defeat Palpatine and his apprentice?”

“Possibly.”

“Well, what’s next on our agenda? Another obscure mission you give me no details of?”

Maul paused from the spike of anger, but it settled when she took a spoonful of her soup. “Now that you have aligned yourself with me,” he explained. “You will be privy to the Crimson Veil’s activities, alliances, and enterprise. I have informed Kast to share any information you ask for.”

“You can’t tell me yourself?”

“The only thing you need from me, apprentice,” he snarled, “is my mentorship for your abilities, and the motivation to end the Emperor, his Empire, and his lackey. The role of everyone else in this organization and the crime syndicates are miniscule compared to what yours is. You do not need to bother yourself with the specifics.”

“You could have been killed if I hadn’t been there.” She set her empty bowl aside. “I only found out where you were thanks to Kyp.” She paused with some level of annoyance. “And Baelis, I guess.”

He scowled and rubbed the rim of the broth filled bowl with his thumb, easing his fury. “The task was received long before we met, and my plans shifted to align with your capabilities. The Dimachaeri were a hindrance, but they would not have been my end. I can assure you.”

Her tension deflated into calm acceptance. “What were those larvae in the caverns used for anyway?”

“They contain organics that can power blasters. A rare material discovered by the sugis.”

“And what happened to the sugis?”

“They are no longer the leading arms dealer they once were.” He sipped the last of the broth.

“You killed them you mean.”

Maul measured her tone and expression. She held none to be concerned about, but he needed to be sure. “My vision is the only thing of value and will be fulfilled by any means necessary. And our lives are the only lives worth concerning ourselves for. Do you understand?” The apprentice averted her gaze, succumbing herself in deep thought when it suddenly occurred to him:

“Have you killed before?”

Memories flashed in her wide eyes. Her lips sealed into a firm line and her loose hand balled into a fist. She met his stare; determination set and spoke through a tight jaw.

“Yes. Several times. I don’t enjoy it, but I’ve done it to survive.”

“Good,” Maul was pleased. “Keep that drive. It’s the reason you have survived this long and have not been captured by my master.”

She scoffed. “Yeah,” then mumbled under her breath, “that’s part of it.” Before he could comment she was quick to switch topics. “What are we doing tomorrow? Or this morning, actually.”

The woman was quick to avert what could have possibly been the source of everything that drove her into rage and hatred. He felt it. The Force tremored under the strength of her emotions, but she contained it well. A show of some progress of her control.

“We will be making steps in constructing your lightsaber.”

“Really?” And just like that, her feelings were as bright as daylight.

“First we need to find you a kyber crystal.”

“What’s that?”

“A crystal adapted to the Force and made of organic and inorganic matter. It is the source of a lightsaber’s power.”

As he explained, her brows furrowed and dug into her pockets to place a kyber crystal on the counter between them.

“Is this one?”

Maul held the clear crystal between his fingers and felt its life pulsate. “Where did you get this?”

“On Andelm IV. Right before I ran into you.”

“Impossible. There are no known kyber crystal deposits on the planet.”

“It was in an area that wasn’t mined, yet. Pretty deep into it too. Almost got lost getting back where I was until I felt your presence.”

He returned it where she placed it. It had to have been pure luck or the will of the Force to have led her to a kyber crystal. Maul didn’t question it further and considered it a good thing since it sped up the process of her training and avoided having to travel into regions of Imperial controlled space.

“You have gotten better at sensing an individual’s presence.”

“I have. Although I spend so much time with you it’s kinda been imprinted in me, I feel.”

The droid took their empty bowls and utensils, their clattering filling the silence her words left.

Imprint? He felt no such thing with his Master. His presence was instilled in him out of fear and hatred. And Savage was different for they felt their bond the moment he was awoken by Mother. In the mine tunnels of Andelm IV, he too felt her presence; although it was faint, he followed it as well. Even if her emotions shifted like the wind and rivers, there was still a part of her that was unchanging. Something he picked up on during their time together. Was that what she meant? He didn’t understand what it signified or if it had any influence over their roles as master and apprentice, but their relationship was… growing. In what direction, however, he couldn’t be sure of.

Maul stood, feeling it was time to end their conversation as it was led down a route he had no intention of exploring.

“You have not slept, and I won’t excuse you for being late. Again.”

“I took a small nap beforehand. Promise I won’t be.”

He was not convinced, but he was well prepared with a punishment if she was. Without any more left to say, he made his exit.

“Uh. Wait,” she stopped before him at the cusp of his escape. “It’s nothing really important.”

“What is it?” She was stalling, wearing out his patience.

“So, I talked to Gar earlier about some requests, and he said it was faster if they went through you.”

Maul ran her question through again. “Requests?”

“Personal items. It’s not a lot. Mainly new clothes and some upgrades for Betts. She won’t shut up about it.”

His first instinct was to snap a ‘no’ at her and not have her involved anymore with his life than was necessary. He needed to keep her at a distance and limit the number of times she had intruded on his thoughts when they were not training. The apprentice had infected his mind with her curls, and beauty marks, and melanin skin to the point they would appear when he was in the middle of briefings.

Her questioning, wide and bright stare. He wanted to gouge them out and not have to suffer from their glamour any longer. Most importantly, he wanted to suffocate Saxon for even suggesting the proposal in the first place. But he knew he could not entirely blame him. They were treating her with the same level of respect as they would himself, which was what he wanted.

Maul scowled at the woman, knowing he was going to regret the decision.

“Send me what you need.”

She did not hide her surprise, but he allowed no time for her to speak or ask him anything else. He immediately made his way to his quarters, eager to meditate away all traces of her from his mind.

Chapter Text

Móni’s steps were stiff when she returned to the kitchen and sat on the island.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?”

“I’m not sure how these things are supposed to end.” Betts finished running the dishes through a conveyor launder and returned them to their racks.

“What things?”

“Whatever this was.”

“What did you think this was?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Rather than broach Betts’ line of thought, passing it off as droid nonsense, Móni figured it was time to go straight to sleep. She may have promised Maul she wouldn’t be late, but they both knew she was as capable of sleeping in as she was flying.

“All wrapped up in here?”

“As clean as it gets.”

She nodded, the reverberations of the adrenaline when she and Maul spoke still pumping her heart. Móni put a hand to her head in disbelief from the flutter and summersaults in her stomach when she felt his tremendous satisfaction for the soup. It always pleased her to know people enjoyed her food, but something else entirely came over her when she watched him. It could be because she had never seen him eat before, a basic function that every lifeform needs to do for survival. Somehow, it carried more meaning for him to consume food rather than ration bars to avoid socializing and keeping himself at a distance from those he clearly thought of as disposable; except for her which he had clearly stated.

Móni was no fool. She knew was what happening. The question was, was she going to let it happen?

She dragged a heavy hand over her face and blew a lip trill.

In the next few hours, Móni was on top of her sheets staring at the ceiling. It came as no surprise when sleep eluded her—her peace of mind betrayed by the heart rate that never ceased, and the images of his gloveless hands caressing the soup bowl and his fingers inspecting the kyber crystal. If his red skin wasn’t alluring enough, the black markings that designed his fingers, his hands, and up his bare arms made them more so.

Móni trained her breaths to slow and fixated her thoughts on the lightsaber she would claim as her own. Soon the adolescent feelings numbed, leaving only irritation and anger for even allowing such a thing to come into existence.

Maybe the dinner thing wasn’t a good idea.

But there wasn’t any other way to form some sort of bond with the Crime Lord. Even if her missions returned successful in the future, there would always be a cavern between them because of her personality and unwillingness to submerge herself entirely in the dark waters of fear, anger, and hatred. If they were going to work together, then something had to be there. She gained his trust, for the most part, but it wasn’t enough. Móni wanted more. Comradery? Friendship? What did being an apprentice really mean?

What did it mean to Maul?

Avin mentioned he had a brother who was an apprentice to him. Surely their brotherhood meant more than the titles master and apprentice. There was a question she could ask, and a question to put him into a fit of rage. It was worth a shot.

The nervous tension in her stomach ceased any hunger she would have felt in her early morning routine and went straight for the compound’s exit—tying her hair into a tight bun on the way. But on the other end of the hall was Maul who stood in the shadows illuminating his gold eyes.

“This way.”

He led them deeper into the compound where the lighting was minimal, and the construction of the halls only nearly complete. Near the end, he entered a room with machinery and equipment meant for weapon and armor augmentations. There was also a medical table raised upright for a person to lie against. Given the mechanical arms that were stationed by it, it was clearly meant for those with cybernetic parts. The worn metal on the footrest and the slight decolorization where the head and back would be against were signs of its overuse.

“Apprentice.” There was a slight warning to his tone, and she figured it may have been her attention lasted a second too long on the device he relied on to sustain him.

He waited by a long table with mechanical components strewn over it. Móni sat on a stool while he remained standing on the other side.

“Your kyber crystal.” As she went to extract it, he continued. “Before we can construct the lightsaber, first we need to bleed the crystal.”

“Bleed?”

“Yes. As I said before, a kyber crystal is also an organic material and has a life of its own. And its life rejects the dark use of the Force.”

Móni turned the crystal in her fingers. “Rejects it?”

“In order for a Sith to power their lightsabers we must force the crystal to bend to our will by infusing our pain with it.”

A life of its own. What if I…, “communicated with it.”

Maul paused mid-pace. “Communicate?”

“Yeah. If it’s Force-sensitive, then I know I can. It just doesn’t make sense to me why something pure and unaligned would be biased towards how someone would use the Force.”

“The Dark Side of the Force was always something that was feared. It is considered unnatural and therefore rejected; even in nature.”

“But how you use the Force shouldn’t matter. It’s what you do with it that does. The crystal may sense a Sith’s ill-intent, not necessarily being one.”

Móni shrunk some from Maul’s intense study of her.

“Who taught you the ways of the Force?”

Her eyes darted away and found comfort in the crystal in hand. She pressed her lips together and ruminated whether it was time to bring her darkest and most horrible secret to light. She didn’t even know where to begin. The words were caught in the back of her throat—a jumbled and incomprehensible mess. All she needed to do was form one word.

Móni tightened her grip on the crystal, her emotions fluctuating from the anxiety of finally pouring a personal part of herself. Then a flurry of voices flooded the air. They spoke rapidly and all at once in hushed tones until they narrowed down to two. Males. Basic tongue.

Brother.
Brother.

She recognized the sensation of one, while the other only felt familiar.

Who are you?

“Apprentice.”

Maul’s voice pulled her out of the Force and back to the room of odd machinery and components.

“What?”

Concern creased his brows, his hands were no longer placed behind his back but at his sides.

“The Force felt… charged.”

All Móni could form was an ‘oh’ with her lips but her voice was lost. The kyber crystal enhanced her abilities to communicate with the Force. It helped her focus better. She opened her hand and its color was no longer clear. It was various hues of orange, even the deepest shade that resembled red.

Her master came beside her and examined it without touching it. Then he put his attention on her, but he wasn’t looking at her—all the attention was on her eyes.

“It matches,” he whispered more to himself as an observation.

Móni blinked back at his awe-stricken expression. The lines and tension of anger were gone, and the frown was just subtly there with a rather lax jaw. She held up the crystal to her right eye, putting up a well-needed barrier between them.

“Does it really? I feel people have described my eyes more than any other part of me,” she shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve stared at ‘em as often as they do.”

“Are you aware of what they resemble?”

“Yours?”

“A Sith.”

She hummed her agreement, her mind wandering to a distant memory when she asked her mother where her eye color came from.

“I was the only one in my family born with it. Not even Mother knew where the shade came from.” Somehow, Maul mentioning how closely it resembled a Sith only proved her origin; a subject she hasn’t reminisced for many, many years. “So, what’s next? I have my crystal. And since I’m not really a Sith, probably impossible to make it bleed.”

It was not difficult to break down Maul’s slight scowl and scrunched nose from the mild frustration of his internal battle.

“Did you still want me to try?”

“No,” he bit back as if it was the hardest thing he had to say. “We will continue.”

Maul used his own double-bladed lightsaber as an example to demonstrate. With the Force he deconstructed it down to its bare parts revealing his two red kyber crystals. He listed each component’s definition, function, and location, including how the parts fit together. Móni did her utmost best to remember the power assembly parts which differ from the crystal chamber, then there was the emitter and controls and casing (which she hadn’t a clue how to design). When he explained the controls and wiring, that was when she truly lost him.

When he finished, Móni had never felt more exhausted; in fact, she would prefer going three weeks in the jungle again than having to construct something out of scratch. Her fingers dug into her scalp, carrying the weight of her short-circuited brain.

She huffed, “Okay.” Then began to lift some parts with the Force.

What was I doing? Oh, right. Power assembly.

With 70% certainty she picked the correct parts, she began her construction with the power cell and surrounded it with the field conductor, then the vortex ring. Her brain was stretching for the memory at that point, the various instructions of the other parts shuffled together without order. When she raised what she thought was the power insulator, it was gently brought down by another Force.

Móni felt out for any signs of repercussions, but the master was surprisingly calm. He raised his lightsaber again—deconstructed—and went over the power assembly once more.

Maul changed his method and taught section by section as she built, giving her time to fully process each part, which gave Móni a better grasp of where the placements were and finally made it halfway through completing the emitter.

When she raised the controls, Maul did his bit of clarifying, however, the terms and methodologies for wiring and circuitries he used eluded her entirely. Móni bit her lip as she assembled some wires to their sockets and created bright blue sparks from the poor connection.

“Aw kriff.” Before Maul could put a word in, Móni stopped him. “I think I’m going to need a more detailed explanation on this part. I’m completely lost.”

She steeled herself for an attack and considered every counter she could throw his way when all she received was silence. But she felt nothing from him. In fact, he was in deep contemplation, his hand over his mouth as he studied Móni’s suspended lightsaber.

“Everything was done correctly,” he said evenly. “The fault is in your abilities.”

“What?”

“You’re using the Force without realizing and overloading the circuits.”

“I am?” Móni raised her voice. “You mean to tell me I’m not a total failure?”

At the noise, and possibly her final statement, Maul scowled and put a finger on the center of her forehead.

“You fail in your self-control. You fail in your confidence. You listened to everything I said, but in here you had already decided you would fail.” He pulled back, anger filling his eyes. “There is no room for failure, apprentice. Only victory,” he paused, searching her face for a response. “Do I make myself clear?”

Móni mentally bonded her hand to the table from touching where he placed a gloved finger on her skin.

“Crystal,” she chuckled softly to herself. “I’ll try again.”

“You need new parts,” he said with an edge of annoyance. “These have been damaged.”

“Right.”

Once the new wires were in place, Móni exhaled and eased her use of the Force. Gently. Gently. One by one she made the connections until there were none to be made anymore. She opened her eyes at her handiwork, a slow smile stretching its way across her features.

“Good." Maul paced back in front of her. “The internal structure is complete, now you can create your outer casing. You’ve already finished the controls and begun the process for the emitter. What is left are the body and pommel for the power assembly and crystal chamber, recharge socket, and blade adjustment valve.”

Móni stretched her hands and fingers, ready to get back to work with the new confidence Maul had instilled to her.

The concept of time faded into an endless void and her surroundings narrowed down to only her lightsaber, table, stool, and herself. There was a blurry recollection of Maul exiting, but she couldn’t have been sure; it may have been once, maybe more than once, or there were long periods he hadn’t been in the room at all. His presence though wasn’t significant since her body and mind were in a wild flux and she did not want to be stopped.

Because Maul had taught the assembly of the lightsaber’s mechanisms first, she had taken the liberty to disassemble and reassemble several times without assistance and fit her newly crafted casing to it.

There was only one time she was brought back to reality when floral tea filled her senses. A steaming cup was set down by phantom hands and an invisible presence. Her first assumption was Betts, but she never cared about her whereabouts and preferred to meander the base to push Baelis’ tolerance to the brink. Then to Avin, but he feared Maul too much to disturb her training, much less be involved in it in any way. When she considered the least likely person, she took a sip of it and burnt her lips and mouth to quench the blood rushing to her ears.

At some point, the lack of backrest put a damper on her spine and continued to work with her back to the ground and her lightsaber suspended above her. She gained some clarity at that point when she noticed she had stopped using her hands to manipulate the parts with the Force, her mind now fully integrated into the act of assembly. However, she gave it no more thought and disappeared into the construction once again.

Móni awoke from her trance and watched the kyber crystal slip into its chamber as she sealed everything shut. In her hands was a 12” silver hilt with engraved black markings and the body wrapped in dark grey leather for a firm grip. When she switched it on, a blood orange blade illuminated the room and beyond it was Maul, as stoic and angry as ever.

“What do you think?” Her cheeks hurt from her wide grin, but she welcomed the rare pain. “Let’s go try it out!”

Maul moved close, the blade illuminating their faces. He examined it down to its hilt, then back up at its user. Her smile faltered when she didn’t feel his usual aggression and caught a strange gleam in his blood-tainted eyes.

“Tomorrow,” he finally spoke. “It is well into the evening.”

“It is?” Móni gasped. “How late?”

“Mere hours until midnight.”

“Oh,” her elation deflated. “Did you expect to have it run this long?”

“Yes.”

“I see,” she murmured. She wasn’t sure why she was disappointed by the fact, and even a little upset it took so long. But an idea sparked her thoughts, and when she faced him, she ignored his jolt of alarm.

“You hungry? I’m starving.”

Maul made a motion to turn himself away with some revulsion by the idea, but his lack of eye contact and snarl meant he was battling it out with himself.

“Come on. No one is there now, I’m sure. They start clearing out by 2030.” Móni went to clasp her lightsaber to her belt, but it did not attach. After some inspection, she dragged her fingers across her face, “Son of a bantha, I forgot to put on a clasp!”

At this Maul’s scowl deepened but withheld enough to not bare his teeth.

“I’m guessing I can’t do it tomorrow?” When his glower did not relent, she sat on the stool. “I’ll do it right now if you have dinner with me.”

His lips quivered and his brows furrowed further. “Do not test me.”

“I’m not testing you. I’m just not taking no for an answer,” she scrutinized him, sensing anxiety and hatred, but unsure of where the uncertainty was coming from. “Am I asking too much?”

The question didn’t seem like the correct one to ask when he visibly shook from the margins of his limits. The Force quivered around him, ready to strike her, and she tensed her hands in preparation for what was to come.

“What game are you playing? What do you gain from these frivolities and needless activities?” The Force encased her throat, but he had yet to flex his fingers to squeeze. “What are you trying to exploit from me?”

“Exploit?” she scoffed. “I thought we were passed this. Haven’t I gained any of your trust? Or was having near-death experiences on your behalf not enough?”

“It is not." His fingers twitched. “You lack the respect of a proper apprentice and have the audacity to speak to me with contempt.”

“What? That’s not what I was--,” but her throat tightened from his invisible grip. She did not struggle, nor did she reach her neck for air. Móni’s confoundment of his words distracted her from the pain and suffocation. When it did become unbearable, with the Force she smacked his hand away and held him immobile.

He struggled like a caged animal and gnashed his teeth at her, “Release me!”

This feral creature froze Móni. The zabrak with the anger rolling beneath the surface while holding a poised composure was not who he was. This was it. A cornered being who was going through any means to survive against the one person in the galaxy he feared and strived to destroy.

“Maul, listen to me. Please,” she released him, not quite sure what to make with the new revelation. She put her hands at her sides and eased every muscle to portray her submission. Maul took note of the surrender but kept the Force at the ready at the palms of his hands; his breaths heavy from the adrenaline and spewing rage. “I tease you sometimes, yes. But I don’t mean it in a bad way. Stars, I’m just asking you to have dinner with me! If I knew that was a crime I wouldn’t have asked. Look, I’m not asking for anything.”

That's not true, she realized. She wouldn't be making such pointless efforts if there wasn't some sort of intent. Maybe Betts was on to something. 

“What does it mean to be an apprentice? Does it mean keeping myself at a certain distance from you or is it more than that? What was…,” she bit her lip from the question she wanted to so badly ask but doing so with Maul in a state she was unfamiliar with was risky.

Now or never.

“What was it like with Savage?”

The name shattered something. Maul wavered between holding his rage together or letting it crumble. When he understood the balance was lost, that he could not burn with the flames of hatred and anger and fear with the pain tormenting his very core, Maul released the Force and turned his back to her.

Móni only gained any notion of his struggle from his fingers pressing firmly against the table and the disarray of his emotions. The pain… she recognized. It was something akin to when she lost her mother to the beast who tore her apart. She made her way beside him with her hands clasped firmly behind her back to keep from touching him in comfort—human contact laced with sympathy was something she was sure he would not appreciate.

“Have you had time to mourn his death?”

Maul whipped his head at her, remnants of his feral state shined his eyes and tensed his muscles, but nothing more. “I will not mourn him. The pain of his death fuels me, exposing new power in the Dark Side.”

“And what about your teachings to me?” Móni offered a wry smirk. “About not letting it control you.”

At this, his temper rose and his chest puffed out ready to exclaim to her every denial, but she beat him to it.

“Mourning won’t end the pain. It will help you come into acceptance that they’re really gone.”

She took the time to take his face in. She tried to smile, but it was difficult to do with the memories of her mothers reeling past her. “You just learn to live with it. Or in your case, use it.”

The lines of anger came undone and his brows raised to reveal a lovely set of eyes no longer shadowed by hatred; instead, they were upturned with sorrow. Móni was bruising her wrist at this point from making any movement to wipe away the expression.

Has he ever been happy?

As much as it pained her to assume, she knew the answer.

Maul was focused on something within himself, reliving memories of his brother she was sure. When he did not respond for some time, most likely forgetting he was not alone, she continued faintly—somehow under the impression she would raise another reaction.

“How did he die?”

The question returned him from the reverie and back at the apprentice. Most likely abhorred by the notion of forgetting himself, his anger spiked dramatically.

“His life ended under my master’s blade.”

“He saw you two as a threat.” Móni couldn’t fathom another reason why someone such as Palpatine, a man who lived in the shadows, would reveal himself in the middle of a war. She would never forget the day she felt him, in a crowd amongst the most powerful beings in the galaxy--out in the open as one of them. And no one knew.

“Yes,” he paused. “And no. If I truly was a threat, he would have killed me.”

“Is your brother the reason for all this,” she motioned at the room, at the base, the planet, and his whole operation. “For revenge?”

A strength in him straightened his spine and shoulders and induced an inferno of raging fire. The whites of his eyes bled into a shade of red and into the yellow pools, changing their hue to one that closely matched her own.

“Revenge was what kept me alive. Revenge was what powered me. Revenge is my purpose. Revenge is my ally.”

Móni swallowed a dry lump in her throat. She always knew he was skilled, always considering her own powers inferior to his, but what she felt—the raw power of the Dark Side—was something not to be underestimated.

Kept him alive? The image of a disarrayed Maul with arachnid legs and turbulent emotions resurfaced and she wondered if there was a link between his words and the vision.

The vision! That’s where she felt the other sensation when she bonded with the kyber crystal. And she distinctly remembered what they were calling out for. Brother. But Maul only had the one brother as far as she knew.

Before she could ask, Maul’s wrist commlink blinked. He gave it a passing glance before giving Móni his attention with some disdain.

“Who is it?” she wondered.

“Vos.”

“Oh? How’s he like?”

“Not without a complete lack of competence. He’s… eager.”

“That’s not a bad thing, right? From what I read he’s been flying under the radar for a while. Even under the Republic’s and Jedi’s noses when they were in control. And he’s acclimated well with the Empire’s supremacy. Not to mention people of his status love nothing more than power—they can never get enough of it. If you keep dangling that prospect in front of him, his loyalty should be solid. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Maul hummed a quiet agreement at her logic. The commlink, however, continued to blink and he was making no show of effort to respond.

Móni inclined her head questionably. “Go do your thing. I’ll finish up here. Reschedule on the dinner?”

He did not respond and turned away. But before he stepped out, he shifted his body slightly and nodded.

Alone with her thoughts, she leaned on the table with shaking arms for support and released a long stream of air she had been holding in. Maul was far more dangerous than she realized. She learned his trigger points to annoy him and how to force his anger to seethe beneath the surface, understanding well enough his limitations.

But she was wrong about his limits. Móni didn’t know it was possible for it to go any deeper. Maul was a wellspring of the Dark Side, like an open wound that refused to heal. She wondered if there was a remote chance for him to turn away or at least diverge a bit from it.

'The Dark Side was all I’ve ever known.'

It defined him. It was his way of life. She wondered if he even chose the path at all.

Her fists clenched tight, her nails digging into her palms drawing blood. Another victim. Another prey for the Force’s whims.

But there was no point to reflect any further on a past she knew nothing about. Móni eased into the stool again and concentrated on adding the clasp to her new weapon.

What are the Force’s plans for Maul?

-

In the entirety of Vos’ briefing about a powerful executive who had taken a keen interest in the underground arms dealers and where his company didn’t have to go through any Imperial processing or licenses, Maul’s thoughts were scattered. The woman had pulled him emotionally in every which way and it infuriated him how she could rouse him as well as appease him in one sitting. But she feared him, which was one show of respect, and was glad of it.

She was prying too much and for what? To understand her apprenticeship with him?

“You may connect him with the Black Suns,” Maul returned to the discussion. “But you must be the intermediary between him and their leader. Do not let them interact,” he warned the near-human male.

Vos’ hologram bowed slightly at his understanding. “Yes, my Lord.” And ended the transmission.

Isolated with the silence, Maul dropped to his bed and weighed his head on his palm. With the woman’s mysterious intentions and the resurfaced memories of his brother mixed together, he was unstable. Anger and pain were dominating the other and the balance was hard to manage. He slid to the floor, crossed his cybernetic legs, and succumbed himself to the Force.

When he realigned his emotions and felt the familiar pounding in his chest and boiling in his veins, he allowed himself to peruse the apprentice’s odd question.

What does it mean to be an apprentice?

Maul knew his teaching style didn’t match his master’s. The brutality, the indifference, the suffering, and the pain; he fed none of it to Savage or the woman. Maybe he should, and Savage wouldn’t have met his fate and the woman could be more submissive. That alone made all the difference between him, his brother, and the woman. He could no longer compare his apprenticeship with theirs when there was nothing to compare to. He was a different master, and far more different than Dooku, the tyrant. The fool taught Savage nothing.

There was also the acknowledgment of the differences between Savage and the woman. He was stern with his brother, but there was no need for repercussions or debates with him—Savage wanted to please him and meet his standards. It was only the woman who invited it because of her lack of discipline… but she did work just as hard. Sometimes he would miss that small detail when he was in a fog of rage.

And when he and Savage were not training, they were… brothers surviving and conspiring together, blurring the divide of master and apprentice. A part of him knew it was through their strengthened bond and his undeniable trust in him that they became unstoppable. Even going as far as conquering Mandalore with the Pykes and Black Suns rallying behind them.

Maul opened his eyes to the darkness. An answer was exposing itself to him, and he did not like it.

The woman was different, in every sense of the word. What he needed to ask himself was not ‘what does it mean to be an apprentice’ but ‘what does it mean for her to be one?’

He gripped his steel knees and ground his teeth together. There was no other way. He would have to continue playing her game to have her become the apprentice he sought to defeat Master and his pet. But once he found her truths, he would exploit them and tame her to his wills.

But in the back of his mind, where he was brutally honest, the truth of the matter was he had no answer to the question as well.

Maul was relentless in their lightsaber training. The frustrations, anger, and pain from the previous night were taken out on the apprentice. And it helped tremendously when the opponent could hold their own, even under the hot gales.

He had disarmed her several times, but she would use the Force or her physical prowess to push him back and reclaim her lightsaber for another round. He had Forced pushed her to the trees and rocks and ground, and every time she would recover with a severe gleam of determination in her eyes. And when he found an opening to strike her physically, she did not hesitate to retaliate with a blow of her own that carried more impact.

They went on for hours without rest and the apprentice was showing signs of exhaustion. Her breathing was deep and ragged, and her sweat had soaked her top entirely. He was also disarming her with ease from the weak grip on her lightsaber and she only recalled it because she had to.

He was also fatigued, but the anger wasn’t spent. There was enough for him to keep going and possibly kill her.

The thought was enough to shut down his saber. The last thing he needed was another dead apprentice.

She fell to the ground with relief and shut down her own. “That was tough!”

“Your grip is weak, and you leave yourself open to being disarmed too many times.”

“I’ll practice on that.”

“And you broke form more than once. If it’s not perfect, then your opponent will always have the advantage.”

“Got it.”

Maul brought a hand to his lips, trying to recount what she did wrong in her forms. “Show me all the forms.”

“Now?”

He dropped his hand and glowered at the woman’s defiance, though it came to him as no surprise. Thankfully, she learned to read him well enough where he never had to utter a word.

She stood with a grunt and lit her lightsaber.

“You may pace yourself.”

At that, her exhaustion eased into comfort and delved into his request. Her motions were as fluid as always, though he had to blind himself from the beauty marks that flashed at him every so often. When she reached the more advanced ones there were small hints of struggle from her weakened state, but not the ones he was looking for.

“Stop,” he ordered her when caught what had been itching his anger during their duel. “Begin this one again and slower.”

She slowed her movements, but without corrections. Maul couldn’t say where he found the patience for the woman sometimes. She reminded him of Savage who had a simplistic and quiet temperament (and a switch that elevated his temper drastically); often he had to be corrected more than once but caught on quickly enough. The woman, he felt, was just scattered.

He went into form and demonstrated for her, and she mirrored him exactly until she stuttered where the trouble was. She repeated the movement, but to no avail—halting her process to take a moment to reflect what she had done wrong in her mind’s eye.

Maul took form behind her and she mirrored him again, this time she was attentive to every move he made and followed along precisely. His only critique was something he fixed on his own by lifting her elbow higher with a finger.

“Yes.”

The apprentice performed the form once more without his asking and did it without fault.

Perfect. The word echoed in him as he watched the sweat gleam off her skin.

“Maul.” Her tone carried a certain flux of uncertainty, an unusual feat from her. He couldn’t say how he felt about it; almost apprehensive if he had to describe it. “I’m not entirely sure what I said wrong last night. Maybe I was being rude? That’s pretty likely, actually. But I want you to know I’m not…" She rubbed the back of her neck. “I do respect you, despite how I act and what I say.”

Maul was almost left speechless at her sincerity, but he furrowed his brows at the hypocrisy of her words. “If you want to know so badly what Savage was like as an apprentice,” he ground his teeth, “he was the exact reverse of your character.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. I’m one of a kind.”

He huffed at her—tired at everything she stood for, expressed, and at her very existence. But he took a moment to collect himself and replayed her words. They weren’t entirely hypocritical, she had done admirably in her first duel with a lightsaber, which reflected some manner of respect for his teachings.

Was all the pestering and talking her way of showing it?

Slowly, very slowly, things were clicking into place.

“And you’re also a very good teacher,” she grinned. “Even when you put my face to the floor, but I do deserve it sometimes.”

Maul stiffened from the amount of light that came through the smile. She meant every word with all of her being and it dazed him. The foreign emotion elevated his blood forcing a deep scowl on his face with a lip curled back into a snarl.

“That is without question,” he spat at her.

She chuckled with weariness, but it did not reduce her beaming face.

The attention on one another broke when his commlink blinked with an incoming transmission. He linked it to his holoprojector and displayed in front of him, so the apprentice won’t be in view of the caller.

A blue projection of Vos, dressed in a fine suit with a high collar and a cape, bowed immediately at his appearance.

“My Lord. It seems we’ve run into a hiccup with the executive. Naturally, I would have dropped all matters with him entirely, but I do believe he’s the perfect asset for your designs. He’s as corrupt and rich as they come with a revulsion towards the Empire.”

“What is the problem?”

“He’s requesting more than we bargained for and cheating his way out of paying the Black Suns his full dues with blackmail and threats. Neither parties are happy, and I’m afraid there’s only so much I can do being the negotiator. He has an astonishing amount of information on them.”

The woman glanced back at Maul with a ridiculous gleam of excitement. He felt a twitch in his eye but expressed nothing further.

“I will be sending someone to deal with this nuisance.”

“My Lord,” he bowed, but only made it halfway before Maul ended the connection.

“Another test for my allegiance?” she quipped.

“No,” Maul clasped his hands behind his back and stood tall. “I will be sending you as my apprentice.”

Chapter Text

Maul ended the training early for Móni to rest and prepare for the following rotation, and she was over the moons. Because most members were working their shifts during mid-noon, the community showers held minimal to no people gifting Móni all the hot water she wanted. She returned to her quarters satisfied, her body splayed across the bed.

The delight faded when she recalled her and Maul’s conversation before Vos interrupted them. She had hoped they resolved their small scuffle and that her reasoning was enough for her to continue approaching him. There was a strong feeling her apprenticeship was a new concept for him, since she grasped a better understanding of who his brother was. If she was ‘the exact reverse’ of him, as Maul so delicately put it, it could mean a myriad of personalities; but it was enough to paint a portrait of a zabrak who followed Maul closely without all her… complications.

Móni chuckled at the air when she surprised him with a compliment. She breathed in the image and held it there, memorizing the slack in his jaw and round eyes.

Betts broke her daydream upon entering and dangled a datachip over her head.

“And this is?”

“I ran into Maul and was tasked to give you this.” Móni took the small device and inserted it into a datapad. An image of a roonan male named Graal Reth appeared with information about his multigalactic conglomerate company. “He also mentioned something about dropping by with more details.”

She scrolled through the extensive amount of information on the male. “Married five times and had mistresses with each one. Did he marry the mistresses?” Intrigued by his drama, Móni read through. “It’s like watching a holovid series.”

“I will be prepping supper if you’re going to be here.”

“Did Gar find someone to help you out?”

“No,” the droid deadpanned.

“Why not?”

“Seems to be no point, since I was ordered by the Lord himself to accompany you whenever I can.”

“Did he really?”

“Noticed your skills with technology, did he?”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“Why are you so useless? Now I have to travel.”

“Is it just the two of us?”

Betts shrugged and rolled out of the room.

With just the datapad’s blue light illuminating her face, Móni read what she could about the roonan who dabbled with slave traders, drug cartels, and gambling. What he was able to get away with when the Galactic Republic existed, he couldn’t any longer with the Empire sticking their fingers in various places of the underworld and taking control, which he found worse than eradication.

Her eyes began to get heavy and drifted her into slumber. The last thing she read was an affair he had with a senator’s wife.

A voice called her name in the shadows of her dreams. It was young and female, and belonged to someone she hadn’t recalled for many, many years.

Móni. She rang in the distance. Móni, look what I got. Fifteen credits! We can get those sweets you’ve been ogling at.

Her laugh was the brightest thing in the dim and damp levels of Coruscant.

Ravi.

A lasat female of about seventeen years in age with lovely deep violet locks, shined her yellow-green eyes with a timid smile. The image morphed into the female with bulging lifeless eyes and a neck discolored with tints of black and purple, and her head tilted unnaturally to the side with a piece of bone sticking out of her skin.

Why didn’t you save me?

I was scared. I didn’t want to use the Force. It told me not to use it.

You saved yourself and not me.

That’s right. I saved myself instead of you. I’m sorry.

I trusted you.

I know.

I loved you.

I know.

I know.

Ravi evaporated into the forgotten memories and left Móni with her guilt.

Durmónia. Another voice called her from beyond. It was deep and soothing. The sound reminded her of soft thunder rolling in the distance on her homeworld.

“Apprentice.”

Móni awoke to a bright room that stung and an irate Maul standing above her. When she rubbed her eyes, they were wet with tears as well as her cheeks. She wiped her face dry and chose to pretend nothing happened.

“Betts said you wanted to talk to me." She took a moment to register he was holding a tray of food from the mess hall.

Maul scrutinized her a moment before also ignoring what he had blatantly seen.

He shoved the tray in her face.“ Your droid came with this. I ordered it to leave.”

She placed it on her lap and quickly shut her awed mouth closed. “Thank you. But, why don’t you want Betts here? She’s coming with me.”

There was a murderous glint when he averted his gaze.

“You don’t like her,” Móni barked a laugh. “Well, she doesn’t care for you either. And she hates me.”

There was a pause as if he was triggered to ask ‘why?’ but resorted to returning to business. “I am only sending you and the droid for the negotiations to not draw any unnecessary attention by having Mandalorians as your sidearms. When you introduce yourself to Graal Reth, you say you work under Vos who is the face of the Crimson Veil for these fools.”

Móni chewed on a purple vegetable as she listened. “So, you’re working your way into the nobilities, politicians, and executives who practically run this galaxy.”

“Yes." Maul’s anger shifted. “Master always preferred dignified company and those who supported the arts. I will use his people against him.”

She stuffed a spoonful of grains in her mouth. “That explains a lot.”

Maul questioned her with a silent stare.

“When I sensed Palpatine, it was at one of the most expensive and well-regarded restaurants for top-siders.”

Something registered in him at a memory flashing in his blood-stained eyes. “The Twin Moons.”

She snapped her fingers. “That’s the one!”

“How did he sense you?”

Móni slowed her chewing and set the tray to the side. She had not expected Maul to want to delve deeper into her past. But if it concerned his Master, then she was sure it was only out of curiosity for his sake.

“You want the long or short of it?” She did her best to swallow down the chuckle from his lack of amusement.

“Will my choice matter?” he retorted swiftly.

Móni freed the laugh from her stomach. “Probably not.” When the anger slid off his shoulders and the lines of tension alleviated from his face, she took it as a good indication as any to share a piece of herself.

“I remember the day very clearly. It was just before the Clone Wars started and, even though he was a regular at this place, everyone was making a huge fuss over him bringing along some big names who eventually helped fund the Republic’s war efforts (actually, now that I think about it some of them were turned Separatists). I worked as a head chef in another place, not as fancy, but I was offered a position as Second Chef at Twin Moons and for several days they had me go through trials before they decided if they were gonna take me or not. That night was supposed to be my big night." She slumped from the memory.

"Everything was going fine until he entered the area. I.. felt him." And more than that, Móni kept to herself. The Force screamed at her to leave without any explanation. “Usually, I get a small sense when Jedi are in the area, but he was—he was loud. I didn’t know it was him until I peeked into the dining room and followed the source to the table he was at. I didn’t see his face, only the back of his head and when I asked who he was and when they said Chancellor Palpatine…" She had forgotten how to breathe. Her fear escaped her—nausea rising to her throat—the Force was in a panic, and he felt her. The way his body stiffened and the slow turn of his head. “If he saw me that day, I don’t know what would have happened. It baffled me how no one could tell. How no one could feel him. Not even a Jedi. He’s malice incarnated.” But then she remembered she was not like a Jedi or Sith. She was something else entirely.

"I ran out,” she concluded. “Escaped from him into the deepest parts of Coruscant for a year or so, before I left the planet for good. I was so scared to even leave my apartment, knowing the Chancellor was what the--,“ she stopped abruptly. The Force warned me about. “Was the danger I’ve been sensing since I was a child.”

“He had never met you or sensed you before this?” Maul had been silent, engrossed by every word. “Are you certain about this?”

“Yes?” Móni quirked a confused brow, then doubted her own memories from the question. “Why?”

He pierced her with a stare that could have burned skin, then ran a thumb underneath his lip, lost in thought. But he returned to form and focused on the present.

“Update me when possible as you progress with the negotiations,” he dropped the subject of his master entirely. “And find out who has been feeding him information on the Black Suns. They need to be removed from the equation entirely.”

“Yeah. Got it." Móni was still puzzled from his reaction to her story. But he didn’t allow another word between them as he made his way out. “Wait." She went for him. “Is there something else you need to say?”

Maul searched her face as she did to his in turn. Finally, she released the breath she had been holding in when he puffed out his chest with an inhale.

“I am certain,” he exhaled coolly, “my master has met you before.”

“That’s not possible. I have no memories of him before then.”

“We will discuss this when you return, apprentice,” he snarled. “As of now you have more important matters to think about, like getting that roonan lowlife to blindly join our cause.”

“But,” she was desperate. She couldn’t understand this feeling of dread that passed over her. And a shadow took form in her mind’s eye. Embers shined bright in the dark fog and choked her.

“Apprentice!”

She was shaken out of the fog, Maul’s hand gripped on her bicep and hers wrapped tightly onto the hem of his sleeve. A sharp pain hammered at her skull and pulsated loudly. “What happened? My head is killing me.”

“What did you see?”

“See?” Móni inclined her head. “I saw you didn’t want to tell me what’s been on your mind, then all of a sudden I got a major headache.”

Maul’s anger evaporated and morphed into concern with an outline of alarm. When his fingers twitched on her arm, that was when she realized how close they were, and what her own hand was gripping onto. She pulled back as if she touched fire, under the impression her contact was what caused the strange reaction from the Sith. But he hardly noticed.

“Maul? What’s wrong?”

At the question, he blinked out of his reverie and the scowl weighed on his face once again. “You will have a ship prepared for you tomorrow. Leave at sunrise.” Although his anger rose it did not reflect in his touch when he released her—the tips of his gloved fingers tracing her skin as he did so—and left the room.

Móni gripped onto the warmth that seeped through the glove and touched her. Her heart was fluttering, but it was overpowered by the concern she felt from him.

Did I say something wrong again?

That couldn’t have been right. He wouldn’t have held her the way he did. Or touched her at all.

“What happened?”

-

Maul’s whirring cybernetics and metallic steps were drowned out by the blood rushing fast in his veins and ears. He had not plotted a destination in mind, but his body moved on its own accord up the hall and to his quarters where he stood in fuming silence.

He’s met her. The very notion tightened his chest and muscles from the fury that was ready to explode. And he had already left his mark on her.

It showed when she spoke of him and gripped onto him for support. And what he felt from her was a fear that surpassed his own, almost like a phobia or worse; it was possible she would truly end her life if she faced it now.

When he first riffled through her dreams, those few months ago when she was fresh off the Abolition, there was a gap in her memories after the events of her mother being killed by a beast. It was impenetrable and he wondered if he even had the abilities to break through, for the memories were locked by Master himself.

She had a vision of the memory, but then she had forgotten having one when he asked her.

What does it mean? Had he been tracking her this whole time? Since the Abolition?

A wave of panic dropped in his stomach at the prospect of everything he had worked for crumble before he truly began. But it wasn’t possible, he calmed himself. His master would have taken her at an opportune moment to indoctrinate her with his lies to follow his every command, as he had done to him, Dooku, and the Skywalker.

His master must have done it to not only keep his identity hidden but to have leverage over her, meaning the woman was a force to be reckoned with.

Does he know what she is?

If he did, having that knowledge already put Maul at a disadvantage by setting her against him.

A cruel smile stretched its way over his features. The weight of the woman’s existence was terrifying for she could be the doom to his plans, but it delighted him to know he had in possession something his master could not have. The next step to solving his master’s and apprentice’s mystery would be to unlock the memory. He would have to delve into her thoughts again, as much as he despised doing so. It was far too personal for his liking when he wasn’t trying to subjugate her.

The hand he gripped her with twitched for a phantom arm and he balled it into a fist. But symbolically crushing it did nothing, so he ripped the glove off his hand and slapped it to the ground as he made his way to the room’s center to meditate on his findings.

At sunrise, the apprentice arrived as promised. Maul told Kast and Saxon that their presence wasn’t necessary and left behind a very disgruntled Mandalorian. He could care less about their opinions of the woman, but he could not have their perception of her affect the system of trust and honor he had built with the warriors. She had gained most of their respect, mainly by her show of power, but Kast was difficult to impress—ironically also the most important one she needed to gain favor with. If the apprentice succeeded in this mission, then there should be one less setback to worry about.

She waited for the ramp to come down from the compact light freighter refurbished for her use only.

Without control of his own mind, Maul was taken to a time more than a decade ago where he was gifted with a Star Courier by his master. It far outclassed what he had given the apprentice, but she seemed content with the prospect of having something of her own.

The woman glanced back and smiled without the mischief stretched behind it. It was those expressions that unsettled him the most, preferring when he knew there was something amiss.

“Any last-minute orders you need to throw my way? Maybe push me to the ground for some good measure.”

“Don’t fail me.”

“Yeah. No pressure." She turned away, the droid rolling up ahead of her. Then she turned back and he swore to the Force he wouldn’t throttle her.

“Did I say something weird last night?”

“We will speak of it when you return.”

“Was it bad?”

His patience was at its limit, but when he sensed her worry and insecurities it fizzled to the normal low hum of anger that pulsated in him. Since their argument two nights ago, there was a shift in their dynamic and he couldn’t place what it was that changed. He had expressed more to her than he had to anyone since... the togruta female who ignored his warnings at the twilight of the wars. What he did know: she was part of the reason by trying to actively communicate with him; no longer leaving anything unsaid between them.

He hesitated with the first step. Then the second. Eventually, the distance closed between them and he charged all his confidence in his shoulders and chest.

“Nothing wrong was done on your part, apprentice.”

“Then what happened?” Flecks of her own anger sparked.

Maul wondered what it was like to be ignorant of the darkest time in one’s life. There have been moments he wished he had forgotten some of his own. “If I tell you now, it won’t leave your thoughts and will distract you for the remainder of this task.”

She closed her mouth and turned passive for a moment. Then she shot a glare, “You promise you’ll tell me as soon as I get back?”

“You have my word.”

The glare lingered several seconds until she released him from her hold. “Giving me something to look forward to for when I come back, huh?”

He blinked at the statement, registering the intentions he, unfortunately, did not make. It did make for a good ploy. “Do you need a reason to return other than your allegiance to me?”

Her expression softened and he did not recognize the ill-behaved woman before him. “No,” she shook her head. “I’ll be back.”

As the ramp closed behind her, she peeked her head down and waved with a grin.

Maul watched the starship lift off the ground and exit the atmosphere, a wave of calm washing over him. There was a seed of mistrust still growing in the pit of his stomach when he crossed the open field before the daybreak. But no amount of training or subjugation could ever be enough to know where her loyalties would reside.

Somehow, though…

The early sun’s rays caught her eyes, making them glow with fire, and her lips tugged on a smile warmer than the planet’s climate.

Somehow that was enough.

-

Móni swiveled in the co-pilot seat with her legs resting on the ship’s control panel. The blue streaks of hyperspace streamed past the viewport, its hum the only noise filling the silence.

“You’re in a good mood,” Betts broke the peace.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you haven’t stopped smiling.”

Móni felt her face and did in fact notice a curvature of her lips; there was also a certain weightlessness to her body as if she could soar across the stars. She wondered if she physically could.

“Glad I’m able to get out of there without any supervision,” she lied.

“Yep.”

“Yeah.”

“No supervision whatsoever.”

Móni dropped her legs. “Don’t tell me,” she groaned. “I’m being spied at through you.”

“I am not entirely sure. I blacked out and was turned back on in your quarters. But it is highly likely.”

She sank into the seat and huffed loudly, “This is getting old.” If her and Maul’s recent interaction meant anything, then it certainly wasn’t his doing, leaving a very strong feeling that Baelis and Rook were the conspirators. “Whatever. I’m not surprised at this point.”

“Does that mean I can stop looking for whatever they put in me?” Móni shrugged her shoulders. “Good. It was getting tiring and I don’t care much either.”

When they dropped out of hyperspace, floating in the backdrop of space was a citadel station with chrome casting and glittering blue lights

“Is this what he spends his money on?” Móni scoffed. “Crazy.”

“Maybe I can snoop around for some stuff for myself.”

“And that’s exactly what you’re going to be doing for me. Find out who this guy has been contacting for info on the Black Suns.” She chuckled from an afterthought. “So much for keeping an eye on me huh?”

“At least my job is easy. Makes this whole thing bearable. I am slightly concerned for you.”

“Concerned? For me? Whatever for?”

“You’re making a deal with a species who are notoriously known for getting offended easily.”

“I’ve dealt with roonan’s before.”

“Not all of your conversations with them ended on a good note as I recall.”

“‘Not all’,” Móni wagged a finger. “So, I’ve settled with a few.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Betts lowered her pitch.

An incoming transmission blinked from the console.

“Identification, please,” a female chirped from the other end. When Betts sent the ship’s identification number assigned to her with their information, her shrilling voice cut the air. “We’ve been expecting you, Durmónia! Welcome to Reth Enterprise, where we help make the galaxy a better place for all sentient lifeforms.”

Móni cut the female off before she could finish, “I hope they don’t all sound like that.”

“We have the docking coordinates,” Betts confirmed.

“Let’s do this.”

Once they landed in a pristine and geometrically sound docking bay, Móni was greeted by a female mikkian with yellow pigmentation that sparkled from her makeup and wore a slick black and silver suit that hugged her curves.

“Welcome!” she had a chipper tone, but it wasn’t nails grating metal horrible. “I am Nezuma, President Reth’s personal assistant. Come right this way, Miss Durmónia. We’ve been very excited to meet you.”

“Yeah? You would think he would be annoyed by needing another party to settle his arrangements.”

“Oh no!” Nezuma’s tendrils swayed as if she were underwater when she turned. “When he was given the opportunity to not have to speak with Lord Vos, he took it amicably.”

“That’s not good,” Móni muttered under her breath. Vos was supposed to be sociably likable for the people he’s dealing with.

They were taken to a transparent lift that ascended them into the crucible. As they went, Móni caught glimpses of each level they passed with the same geometrical designs that formed the docking bay, only more excessive as they shaped the pathways and ceilings for the employees. At first the architecture struck her with awe, but the longer she stared there was a prison-like quality that came with it from the lack of colors, furnishings, and overall emptiness of it.

Noting Móni’s immersion, Nezuma commented, “Beautiful isn’t it?”

“For a whole lot of nothing, I guess it is. But I’m not really into architecture and stuff like that, so what would I know?”

Nezuma forced a laugh that she clearly did not intend to be genuine, and all Móni could think was how much the employees matched their environment.

After losing count of how many floors they passed, the lift finally stopped at a wide hall with black marble flooring that led to a doorway large enough to overcompensate the fact the boss resided behind it. As they neared, Móni held back a few steps to be in line with Betts.

“Sorry about this,” she whispered to the droid and with the Force turned Betts around and rammed her against the wall.

From the resounding bang, Nezuma turned fast and gasped, “The poor droid! What happened?”

“It’s kinda a waste of parts,” Móni waved dismissively. “There’s always something cross-wired in its processors.”

“We can replace it for you,” she perked. “We have plenty of astromech droids that I’m sure would be more than suitable for your needs other than,” she stumbled. “What kind of droid is that?”

“Garbage. But, unfortunately, it was assigned to me and it’s not mine to give away. I can just leave it here until we’re done.”

“We can fix it right up for you! On the house for doing this enterprise a great service with your help.”

“If it’s not any trouble, then I don’t see why not.”

“Of course! I’ll have someone come pick it up right away.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Past the door’s threshold, Nezuma led her to an office the size of a luxury suite with a small lounge area for guests and a desk overviewing the area where Graal Reth sat staring out into dark space behind him.

“Leave,” he said promptly to Nezuma who bowed her head and left without a word. He turned to the front, his milky blue amygdaloid eyes focused on her. “Sit, please,” he motioned for the only seat available before him.

Móni settled into the plush chair and smiled with a bit of charm in it, “So, President Reth.”

“Graal is fine,” he examined her closely.

“Graal,” the eye over did not go unnoticed. “I’m not really here for show but to solve whatever squabble you have between you and the Black Suns.”

The genetically wrinkled folds on his forehead furrowed further with distaste. “I didn’t realize Vos had uncouth hirelings. And ones with lightsabers?”

“I’m usually sent when he wants things done promptly. As for the lightsaber, I paid good money for it, so I take it everywhere I go. Pretty proud of the lucky find.”

He hummed with disinterest. “I see. So, a hired thug.”

“Sure,” Móni’s feeling on the roonan was a guaranteed dislike. “From what I understand, you’re not happy with the Black Sun’s proposal and blackmailing them for a discounted offer. And, I take it you’re not overly fond of Vos’ handle of the situation?”

“Vos is not the issue. And neither are the Black Suns,” he examined a nail in a blasé manner that nearly had Móni roll her eyes. But she kept her composure as not to cause any unnecessary offense.

“Okay? Then what am I here for?”

“I’ll continue my dealings with the Black Suns without complaint if you settle a dilemma for me.”

“And why should I? You’re the one in need of weapons. We can just back out of this whole thing, and you can try your luck with the Empire.”

“Because,” he pressed his fingertips together, “I’ll be willing to offer Vos a partnership. He has an unusual reputation with people like us, those who dabble a bit with crimes and violating laws. However, his game has changed, and I think I like where he’s headed. But I do need one small thing taken care of.”

“How small are we talking?”

“I have a,” he leaned back in thought, “rival who needs a little help being put into place.”

“Great! Then let’s tell Vos and avoid this whole conversation altogether.”

“This individual works quite closely with his family’s company and I would prefer for this to be done discreetly.”

Móni clicked her tongue, “And you can’t solve this yourself?”

“All you need to know is that I have been falsely accused for something I didn’t do, and he refuses to be given any evidence on the matter. He simply wants to find any excuse to cripple my enterprise and I can’t be seen associating with him.”

“Right.” Reputation. Of course. Móni wondered if he was worth all the effort. The roonan was scandalous and didn’t try too hard to keep it under wraps; being with so many consorts meant anything could slip past them and leak into the public. However, if his enterprise had lasted this long, then he knew what he was doing in some manner of speaking. She could be sure Maul was rightly aware of him, yet never brought anything to be wary of to her attention. With heavy indignation she responded, “Alright. I’ll see what I can do. Now who’s this guy?”

Reth turned on a holoprojector from his desk of the figure meant to be dealt with. Móni stared into the bulbous eyes of the neimoidian and bile clung to her throat and her senses shut down. She was drowned by the screams of children, the scent of sweat and iron, the sensation of coarse clothing rubbing her skin red, and the sight of him standing tall above her with an electro-whip in hand.

Remember where I am. She steadied her breaths and refocused on the roonan who hadn’t noticed her internal state of panic, then forced a lopsided smile. “Just send the coordinates to my ship and I’ll be on my way.”

“You’ve travelled a long way,” his voice shifted a tone lower and Móni felt the strongest sensation of primal hunger. “Why not stay the day and enjoy what my enterprise has to offer.”

Móni stood and held back what she could from a scowl shifting her already faltering smile. “No. I’d like to get this done as soon as possible. You’re not my only priority.”

“Hm. Very well,” he did not hide his disappointment but pressed a switch on his desk to return Nezuma into the room. “Thank you for your time, Miss Durmónia. Perhaps we will meet again soon.”

She turned on her heel with Nezuma following suit, doing her best to match Móni’s long strides in her heels.

“Excuse me, Miss Durmónia. But it seems your droid has gone missing.”

The mikkian’s voice was but a distant echo as memories she had kept locked for years burst open without restraint. And Ravi’s corpse reanimated spewing with hate.

You left me to die.

Móni shook her head to disintegrate the image and forced herself to the present. “Guess we got to go look for her.”

-

Betts was in the lift by herself with a dent on her head. Once the mirrikan and Móni vanished into the room, she rolled back from whence they came and selected a random floor to get off at.

She made her way past bustling employees who did not give her a second glance as each one was focused on a datapad, a holoprojected display of numbers, or talking vigorously on the commlink.

The first room she went into was holding a meeting with several people around an oval table that was projecting schematics for a new ship model. Betts rolled around the dark area for a port to insert her data probe and found one at the helm of the table where the main presenter was standing. She shoved the formally dressed man out of the way to fit it in and began her search.

“Excuse me,” the bright-eyed man was perplexed at being interrupted. “But what are you doing?”

“I was assigned to check every area on this floor that has a console and make any necessary updates.”

“But we are in the middle of a meeting. Can’t you wait?”

“I wasn’t told if it mattered whether the room was being occupied or not.”

“What’s your number? I’ve never seen a droid like you around here before.”

“I’m an outside vendor who specializes in system maintenance.”

“We have our own system maintenance droids. And Reth Enterprise does not outsource for menial tasks such as this. Now, tell me your number or I will have to call to have you terminated.”

When she neared downloading what she could, the hologram display shut off and turned back on with a brighter and more vivid hue of blue and the schematic displayed crisper lines, encapsulating the ship’s form down to every detail. The room awed in unison at the perfected display.

At a loss for words, the man stuttered, “What corporation did you say you were sent from again?”

“I didn’t,” Betts said flatly as she removed herself from the port and rolled out of the room.

She meandered through twisting paths and across long bridges that connected the four points of the floor until she happened upon a mouse droid.

“Hey, you.”

It stopped and gave its attention.

“Where do they send droids to get their processors cleaned and updated?”

Betts found herself in an immense area with droids of all classes being washed and polished on a conveyer, tuned by other droids, and their data probes inserted into consoles. She, however, passed the console and went straight for the empty control room to find another port where she began her examination of all the hardware the enterprise had for their droids.

“Ugh. Trash,” she removed herself. “What a waste of my time.”

A green light lit for an incoming transmission on the console, which she would have ignored if her only exit hadn’t been closed and locked. Without her needing to accept the call, a hologram of a half theelin teen in a hoverchair displayed in a handheld scale.

“Betts. What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Why were you scanning for me?”

“Móni asked me to. Although, she didn’t know it was you specifically she was looking for.”

“Does this have anything to do with Vos and his connections with the Black Suns?”

“I think it’s probably best if I don’t say anything. I don’t care for you, but I also don’t want you dead.”

“I knew this job was too good to be true…”

“Probably won’t help. Not sure what the head honcho told Móni to do with you.”

Móni’s voice spoke from Betts’ internal commlink, freezing the room, “Hey. Where are you?”

“Finishing up in this trash place.”

“Meet me at the docking bay. We’re leaving.”

“Gotta roll.”

“Betts,” Kyp was silent, his head leaned forward unable to make eye contact. “She made her choice, didn’t she?”

Betts’ photoreceptors stared blankly at the teen, no emotion crossing them, “She did.”

“Why? I know Zione thought it was best if she stayed where she was, but I actually really wanted her to be with us again.”

“Kid,” Betts began. “There’s a lot about her I don’t know. But what I do know is that she wouldn’t want you hurt. She’s not your dad.”

Kyp stared up with glossy eyes, his lips trembling. Without another word, he ended the transmission.

-

Back into hyperspace Móni stared out of the viewport trying to focus on the streaks going past and concentrating on her breathing.

Get it together. He most likely won’t remember you. Maybe.

“Were you not going to ask who it was that was looking into the Black Suns?”

“Later,” Móni said as she pushed out of her seat. Betts was being talkative for whatever reason and she couldn’t handle the noise. Everything was too loud. The engines. The hyperdrive. Her heartbeats. Betts joints whirring as they controlled the ship. “I’ll be in my quarters.”

Her legs couldn’t make it to the bed and she crumpled to the ground. She huffed a dry laugh and sat on her folded legs.

“Pathetic,” she mumbled. Móni could hear Maul scolding her for being out of balance with the Force and to realign herself. The process, however, required meditating which was not her favorite thing. It brought her much too close with the Force and their whispers were often intolerable. But she needed to calm herself or else the fear and guilt and anxiety would consume her entirely, and Maul wasn’t there to set it right for her.

With a heavy breath she sat into position, just as she was taught, and opened herself to the Force. The cold sensation poured over her and the air turned pure. For a moment, she found a piece of calm that quieted her emotions and put them under control, but the moment didn’t last very long. As always, they started small until they stuffed her head with their loud whispers. She grit her teeth and tightened her fists as she bared through it, hoping she could break a wall and finally find her peace. But the whispers were so loud a headache pulsed in her skull.

Get through it.

Her forehead pressed to the floor and she pushed hard against it as if an external pressure could somehow alleviate the pain. Then something so fierce and loud screamed at her she shot up and broke away from the Force, sweat going down her face and her heart racing fast.

Móni undid her hair and ran her fingers through her scalp. She needed to try something else.

When she was spaced and controlled her fear of flying, it was the truth that saved her. But what truth was there to find? She knew what happened. She had suffered from guilt and rage and self-hate for what she had done, saw she could not live unless she buried it for good.

There was a third option.

She unclipped her lightsaber and disassembled it with the Force to reveal the kyber crystal. It floated to the palm of her hand then grasped it. She exhaled slowly and connected herself with it and the Force. Its life flowed through her fingers, past her wrist and arm, and into the rest of her body. It sung for her, the notes pleasing to her ears unlike the deafening whispers. The Force was not as loud, and one voice rang true amongst the many.

Móni.

It was female and young.

Ravi?

Listen.

Listen!

Another voice shouted at her with such force and hatred she was thrown out of the meditation and she dropped the kyber crystal like it stung. She brought her sweaty head to her hands in utter defeat and fatigue.

“I can’t do this.”

Don’t fail me. Maul’s words rung in her thoughts and the weight of it pushed her to the cold floor. On her back she raised her lightsaber parts and kyber crystal and reassembled it, then pointed the emitter toward her. Her thumb grazed over the switch then set it down by her side.

That would be too easy wouldn’t it? As tempting as the final option was, it was cowardly and would ultimately silence her future—something she hadn’t been looking forward to until she joined the Crimson Veil.

Maybe I just need to sleep it off and it’ll go away. She rolled to her side, ready to crawl into bed when the holoprojector device installed into the floor blinked. There were only three people she could think of who would contact her, and she was certain of only one. Dread sank into the pit of her stomach, not wanting to display her current state to him knowing he could ascertain her emotions without batting an eye.

The blinks continued at a constant rate, but she could feel the aggressiveness behind it for not answering soon enough. Her body felt limp when she stood to accept the transmission then sat on the edge of her bed to face a full-body display of her master.

Maul measured her with a stare that consumed everything she was feeling, but he chose not to broach it, yet. “And where are you going?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

“It seems Reth had meant for someone to interfere to have a personal vendetta be settled without Vos knowing. In turn, however, he offered a partnership. I’m going to deal with this guy, then all issues with the Black Suns and him will go away.”

“And the one who had been feeding Reth the information on the Black Suns?”

“Betts has it. Haven’t looked into it, yet.”

“I see,” he stroked his chin, pleased with the development. “And how exactly does he want this vendetta to be settled?”

“Quietly. He doesn’t want to create a surge between him and Vos, I’m sure.”

“Good,” his mood wasn’t as dark and foreboding as Móni had expected it to be and realized she had caught him in one of his better moods. The cause, she assumed, may have been the lack of her lively presence and quips to torment him with. But his disposition staled some and she prepared for the worst.

“You are out of balance. Why?”

The question wasn’t said without care nor with it, but it still felt like being punched in the gut. “You can tell from all the way out here? Impressive. Will I be able to do that too?”

“Do not drift,” he exhaled with some level of impatience. “Why have you not meditated?”

“I tried. You know I’m not good at it. Made it worse, actually.”

“Because you do not fully connect with the Force.”

“Well, I did this time and it was as if,” she couldn’t rightly say what happened, which was difficult, but the half truth always worked. “Rather than controlling my emotions I felt it more to the point it became unbearable.”

Silence settled between them and when she peeked a glance from under her eyelashes, Maul had his head inclined in thought. He moved as close as the hologram allowed him and studied her.

"What is it?”

“What’s what?”

He spoke over her and did not hold back the severity in his tone, “You’re hiding something. And if it affects your task in any way then it will be best if you share it.” Móni couldn’t raise her head at him and sought solace in her fingers she had been wringing together. “Will it affect your duties?”

Will it? She couldn’t answer that herself. Her past could ruin everything if the neimoidian recognized her, or it was all in her head and there was nothing to be concerned about except being haunted by memories she thought she had killed.

“I’m not sure,” she looked up. There was his usual scowl of anger, but something else lurked within his furrowed brows and searching gaze. If it were anyone else, she would say they were signs of worry, but Maul wouldn’t worry about her, would he?

He unclasped his gloveless hands from behind him to ease them at his sides, and she did her best not to linger on the rare sight.

“There is fear, pain, torment, self-hate, and sorrow swelling within and without control. If they get out of hand, then your emotions will turn on you and control your actions,” his shoulders slumped with some defeat as he worked his jaw with some discomfort. “Do you know the cause?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Móni swallowed the lump forming in her throat and licked her dry lips. To create some sort of distraction from her own words, she picked on a frayed strand of the bed’s blanket.

“The person I’m seeing is a neimoidian named Druan Chur and he’s someone from my past. I worked under him for a year or two on Coruscant and I didn’t exactly leave his services in the best way. It’s possible he may still hold a grudge on me and if he recognizes me then there goes this whole deal.”

“Kill him.”

He said it so simply. So naturally. As if it was the most obvious thing to do.

“What? But,” she stood and closed what little distance they had between them. “What about Vos? Druan works for his family’s company.”

“Vos works for us and not the other way. And it seems…,” a wry smirk made its way over Maul’s features and she wasn’t sure if she was pleased to have finally done something to raise his spirits or be concerned. “You harbor hate for this creature.”

Móni searched within the flurry of emotions and wondered if that was what she had missed. She was so self-involved in her own pity and guilt she hadn’t even considered the source of it all.

Even in the blue hologram, Maul’s eyes shined bright, “You hate what he’s done to you. Remember that and let it be your drive. And whatever happened in your past and whatever will happen know that you, apprentice, are not the one at fault. He is.”

“And Vos?”

“I will take care of him once everything is done,” his shoulders shrugged lightly, unconcerned.

Móni eyed him curiously and crossed her arms over her chest. Her emotions held more clarity within her, the storm lulling to a soft hum, but it could also be Maul’s obvious mood change that seeped its way into her for she was beginning to gain a semblance of herself again.

“Did something good happen while I was away? Or is it because you’re happy to finally have me out of your… horns for a while?”

His body stiffened and he returned his marked hands behind him. Through a clenched jaw he spoke, “I have a pressing matter to attend to for a short moment but wait for my call so we may discuss the infochant and the Black Suns.”

She couldn’t help it. Móni should have held it in, but his embarrassment was enough to charge the room with the good humor she very much needed. A laugh exploded from her and her cheeks and stomach hurt from the amount of it, “You shouldn’t hold your other emotions back just because you’re a Sith. The change of expressions looks good on you, especially when you’re flustered.”

He took in a deep breath and ended the transmission leaving her alone with her laughs.

Móni collapsed onto the bed and rehearsed his words over and over in her head. She couldn’t deny the hate for Druan but blaming him entirely for what happened felt wrong. She had a choice and she made it, but the whole time she carried the burden all on her own without considering whether there was anyone else at fault. It had always been there, the hate, but she made her resolve when she realized she would never see him again and tormented herself instead.

Maybe, she considered with a breath of new air. Maybe this was the redemption I was waiting for.

She held the pillow close under her and waited for Maul’s call. As she did, she considered if the memories would finally be laid to rest; no longer locked away to be forgotten but released to finally be free of them.

Chapter Text

Maul stood amid the blanket of darkness in his quarters, unable to unclench his hands and jaw. He did not, in fact, have a prior obligation that needed to be met nor was there anything pressing in need of his attention at the time.

That devious, uncouth, and aggravating woman exposed him, and he ran away. He was mildly aware of his own disposition after she left the planet, but it wasn’t that discovery which made him flummoxed by her brazen words. It was the assumption of her being away as the underlying cause that drove him out when it couldn’t be so far from the truth. He could have lied to her outright, put on a face to misguide her, but he felt bare under her acute gaze which had been able to draw out the deepest parts of him without effort. It was…

He struggled for the right word to describe the racing hearts, tensed muscles, and a drop in his stomach as if he were falling. Threatening was a good fit; anything more than that he denied and tossed away before it bore fruit and turned into reality.

In truth, no matter how far the woman was, she still reigned his thoughts without mercy, and he couldn’t shake the sense of pride she had instilled in him. For all their training and time together, she finally felt like his apprentice which alleviated the compression of doubt in his chest with liberation and success. Of course, when he discovered her—deep in depression and self-hate—he had expected someone compliant to follow his whims under threats and manipulation. And he was so wrong; he had wildly underestimated her free spirit, and yet she chose to stay and became somewhat tamed. The woman began to open herself to him and tried to form a sort of connection between them. He was unsure how he felt about it now he had some inkling of her intentions, which were… harmless.

The grip on his hands loosened when the ghost of her emotions lingered briefly. What she shared with him was just the surface of the deep and bleeding wound she refused to expose. He had to commend her on putting on a stoic visage and wrought her own determination. The job was sure to get done, he had no doubt in his mind about that, but her greatest weakness would not come out of it unscathed: the woman simply felt too much and her feelings would shatter her.

Maul took a datapad from his bed and searched for Druan Chur. He was a prospector for a small mining station that procured precious stones. Vos distributed the neimoidian’s resources to manufacturers and markets and made a profit from that, although he had no information on the amount to determine how detrimental their partnership was. What struck his curiosity was the lack of information about his life prior to becoming a prospector. The apprentice said she knew him when she lived on Coruscant and yet there was nothing that showed he ever took residence there. Though the mining station was owned by some company or other he had no interest in, the executive had connections with the Pykes, which served his aim perfectly.

Satisfied with his findings, Maul dropped the datapad and went to send a transmission to the apprentice’s ship. There was a twitch of irritation in his right eye when it wasn’t being received and sent it to the cockpit.

A hologram of the droid displayed before him, “What?”

“Is the apprentice still in her quarters?”

“As far as I’m aware.”

“Push my transmission through.”

“Fine,” she ended the transmission abruptly and switched him over.

Presented in his quarters was his apprentice hugging a pillow and snoring softly from a deep slumber. The air turned thin and he hadn’t any notion why it did. He was mesmerized by how her cheek was pressed against the soft cushion and her rhythmic breaths escaping from her partially opened lips. He edged close to her and raised a finger toward a stray curl that partially covered an eye. As expected, it went straight through her hologram and left him with a disappointed breath caught in his chest.

Maul returned his hand to his side and lingered several seconds longer on her tranquil form before ending the transmission.

His commlink blinked brightly and he cleared his tight throat before accepting it, “Yes?”

“My Lord,” Kast spoke on the receiving end. “There is something you need to see.”

“What is it?” He would rather meditate to realign his emotions and center his anger.

“It’s about Móni. Or her droid, specifically. She made contact with the infochant we’ve been searching for.”

It seemed Maul did not need to meditate after all, as the familiar coil in his chest and stomach strengthened. “Is that so? Send me what you have.”

“Sir.”

“And, Commander Kast. If you decide to spy on my apprentice behind my back again, it will not end well for you or your subordinate. Do I make myself clear?”

There was frozen silence on her end, and he could smell the fear radiating from his commlink. In a less confident tone, she responded with a weak ‘Yes, my Lord’ and severed their line.

The scheming cogs in Maul’s mind whirred with a theory of who the droid had interacted with. He accessed the holo-table once again.

“Now what?” The apprentice’s droid did not look his way.

“Your master said you have successfully acquired data on the infochant. Send them to me.”

She was still as she stared ahead at the viewport that was not visible to him, and he held a steady gaze on her—daring her to defy him.

Eventually, her finger transformed into a data probe and inserted it into the control panel. Maul’s wrist panel activated from the receiving datafile and motioned to break their communication until she spoke.

“You have no idea how much that boy means to her. If anything happens to him, you’ll regret taking her in, and you know it.”

“You may tell her nothing will become of him if you find it necessary to do so,” he said unaffected by the warning. “Or say nothing at all. It makes no difference. She understands her place,” and ended their conversation.

The data on the half theelin child was minimal, the information only going as far as when Reth and he began their dealings, but it was enough to find a way to contact him.

He only hoped the boy was as good as his growing reputation.

***

“I don’t remember my family. Or my home,” Ravi said with her hand entwined with Móni’s. “This place was all I’ve ever known. You’re lucky to remember what you’ve lost.”

The two of them were on their backs staring up at the glistening traffic of airspeeders flying tightly within the net of lanes they traveled in. Móni deflated further into the cold rooftop flooring, unsure of how to feel.

“At least,” she began, “you don’t have the pain of losing them.”

Ravi’s large eyes searched the face of the teen beside her, her curls a mess as usual, and her eyes just as bright. “I’d rather feel something for them than nothing,” she explained. “I only know they existed because I exist, but I do want a memory of them so they can live on in some way.”

Móni hummed her understanding, “I see.”

The lasat undid her hand and moved in closer to the human’s side, hugging her arm to her chest. “You have me now, though,” she smiled displaying sharp canines. “You won’t be alone again. I promise,” she nuzzled in the nape of Móni’s neck then planted a kiss on her cheek. “Right?”

Móni faced her and admired the lavender skin with her fingertips, which Ravi leaned into. A smirk made its way on her features that inspired a light blush on the lasat. “Sorry for being such a downer. Just sometimes, I wake up and I don’t recognize where I am rather than on Devaron with my parents. It’s such a weird feeling.”

“It’s alright. I’ll always be here to listen.”

Their smiles infected the other and they pulled in closer, their lips melding together. A halo of sweet innocence surrounded them, and their love sprouted deeper into the kiss. Móni pulled Ravi flush against her body and ran her fingers through her soft tresses, scared to let go. Scared to lose something dear to her again.

***

There was a hard prodding against her side that woke Móni. She pushed herself off the bed and wiped the drool that ran down her chin.

“Wha?”

“We’re here,” Betts said as she rolled out of the room.

She sat up and scratched her head in deep thought as if she had forgotten something. “Oh, kriff!” Her hands ran down her face in distress. “I totally missed Maul’s call.”

She ran into the cockpit where Betts stood at the controls and outside the viewport was an asteroid with minimal facilities that lit the bleak rock with dots of lights. “Betts, did I miss Maul’s transmission?”

“Did you?”

“I think I may have fallen asleep on him.”

“That so?” Móni sat in the co-pilot seat with her elbow propped on the armrest to hold her head and waited for a further response from Betts. When the droid felt the silence dragged on long enough, she added, “So, we’re just going to land?”

“Why are you so reserved all of a sudden? Something happen while I was asleep?”

“Looking forward to getting this all done and over with.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Móni blew a strand of curls out of her eye and stared at the hunk of rock lazily rotating around the mine and its neimoidian leader without a care in the world. “Go ahead and land,” she finally instructed with a tight throat.

Betts landed the ship in a docking bay grimed with dust, rust, and oil. But the air quality was worse than the appearance. Móni brought the back of her hand to her nose and searched for the ventilation ducts which oozed with grease, meaning the main filters haven’t been changed in quite some time. Years probably.

A snivvian with a filtration mask and a jumpsuit stained with soot was inputting some data into his wrist panel and spoke offhandedly, “State your business here.”

“Facilities Maintenance Inspector.”

“We weren’t expecting you for another two months.”

“Surprise inspection.”

The snivvian looked up from his wrist panel for the first time to give the woman his wariness, “Surprise?”

“You don’t get these kinds of inspections? They are protocol.”

“Yes,” the snivvian drawled with scrutiny. “Do you have a license?”

Móni turned to Betts and nodded her head with raised brows. From a holographic projector on her chest, Betts displayed a license with a picture of Móni several years younger and Coruscant’s crest. However, the snivvian did not have a chance to read the various descriptions as the image stuttered off.

“Sorry about that,” Móni patted Betts. “She’s a bit old. You know how superiors are when it comes to updating our equipment.”

“Right,” he motioned for his wrist panel as he turned, “let me talk to the boss for a second and let him know.”

“Sure.”

His back blocked the holoprojection of the neimoidian, but the gurgling voice with the clipped formal accent clawed down Móni’s spine which she did her best not to sneer at. To block the grating sound, she focused on Betts.

“Good thing Coruscant licenses all look identical.”

“Let’s hope food handling authorization haven’t changed since the Empire. Or if they included its emblem,” Betts said with indifference.

“Suppose we’ll see,” Móni said with a hint of unease; she hadn’t considered the notable Empire’s mark.

A miner shuffled past her with a filtration mask like the rest of his coworkers in the area. If Chur was working with a wealthy man like Vos, he should have some means to fix the ventilation systems, unless he was squandering all the money for himself. There was a muffled scream towards the edge of the area behind loads of crates where a twi’lek without a mask was being herded by miners into a discreet access that was slid shut behind them.

“Did you see that?” Móni asked under breath.

“I did,” Betts was not liking where her human master was going. “Please don’t tell me…”

“No. Stay with the ship in case things go south.”

“Music to my audio sensors.”

“Yeah. Well. I do expect to have a ship to go back to if they decide to block my escape.”

Betts’ photoreceptors spiraled a radius smaller at her human, “This isn’t going to turn out well is it?”

“Probably not.”

“Of course.”

The snivvian returned to Móni looking somewhat drained. “Alright. He gave the go-ahead for you to take a look around, but Prospector Chur said to come to him with your findings before you leave.”

“Great.”

“Uh. Do you need someone to escort you around the facility?”

“No, thanks. I’ll take it from here. I do want to ask how long your ventilation system has been like this?”

“Only in here it’s like this. We’ve been slowly working our way into fixing the place up when Prospector Chur finds the means to do so.”

“I see.” There was a tremor in the Force around him with a hint of fear. The feeling sent her back to the foul levels of Coruscant where she too had stood before Chur in the same way as the snivvian had. “Then, I’ll be off,” she waved.

The snivvian was correct about the docking bay being the only area with poor air quality. When she made it past the threshold into the adjacent area, she breathed in deeply the crisp air with lingering scents of dust and soot. Everything was ordered in a way any mining facility should be: lifts that went levels deep into the asteroid, pathways that were similar to the ones she saw in Andelm IV only less expansive, and carts being carried with raw and unpolished stones.

Móni decided to follow some workers who led her to their living quarters, which were adequate. They were not much different from how she lived on the Abolition; she could only imagine the mechanical problems the residents were having the way she had. She put a hand on the metal wall, and it was coated in a thin layer of dust with some dried grease that had a sticky consistency. There were vibrations that ran from the base to her fingertips, which she put off as the machines driving into the bedrock until the sensation turned high pitched, like someone screaming.

She pulled back and put her fingers to the floor. It was stronger than the wall, but it wasn’t enough to prove her assumption. Móni shut her eyes in concentration and through the Force felt past the metal, past the wires and machines that powered the facility, and into an open area filled with bodies huddled together in groups of a dozen or so. She pushed deeper into the Force, pushing away the black fog that masked the beings below and stretched out for the feelings of one.

Pain. There was so much pain. Móni could feel the raw sting on her back and the sore ache in her arms and legs. She was pushed to a place she had forgotten, a basement with thin air that froze with dark lighting, but the most notable and most terrifying light was the electrifying yellow of the elctro-whip.

She shot up and held onto those feelings as she followed them through corners and hallways until she reached a lift that was oddly placed away from the most traveled areas and tucked in a dead-end that led nowhere but down.

Móni no longer felt it. She saw it. Spewing from the shaft were the cries of people traveling on the air and carried by the Force.

You hate what he’s done to you. Remember that and let it be your drive.

It swelled in her chest and poured into her hands and down to the soles of her feet. The rage set her blood aflame and she could feel the bones and muscles harden with the new strength. She had never felt the urge to direct her hate toward any individual in her life, as it was always directed at herself and the Force. But this time… this time she felt invincible.

Her senses adapted sharply, and she felt out for anything that was familiar. Anything that reminded her of him. When she locked onto the conniving insect she turned fast, and her strength disappeared as swiftly as it was created.

Druan Chur stood tall and thin with long, dreary robes and a frayed headpiece that sat on his wrinkled, green head. His thin, wet lips curved upwards into a smirk while he narrowed his bulbous red eyes at her knowingly.

“My wayward child has returned. Durmónia.” He snapped his fingers and blue electricity shot from the floor.

Móni was brought to her knees from the sheer power of it, but she refused to relent so soon.

I am not that girl anymore.

Her body screamed with a thousand needles piercing her skin, but she forced her knee to lift off the ground and stared right at Chur, hate tearing off his smug features and turning it into fear. Yes, he remembered her very well, and all her power. It was enough to strike him mentally and allowed herself to collapse with exhaustion.

The pain ceased, leaving her body scorched and her clothes steaming. With her ear pressed to the ground, his footsteps were loud as he edged to her. Móni turned her face up and shot a hand at him, the Force gripping his throat.

His wheezing chokes were a delight to hear and the life draining from his skin was hypnotic. But her vision blurred, and she felt the Force slip away from her grasp. Her head dropped and Ravi’s voice chimed in the darkness, as if she were whispering directly in her ear:

Don’t give up.

-

In an unknown part of the galaxy, drifting without a set destination in plan, was a light freighter that had seen some years in its chipped paint and scratches, but has been well-maintained. Its crew consisted of an older amani who served as their leader as the most experienced of all the much younger members. There was a young and boisterous iktotchi who would rather lounge about than help around the ship, the opposite of his fellow crew member: a female balosar who took every chore as a personal responsibility that needed to be completed with perfection. The one who tidied up the place as best her old and frail bones could was an aged theelin female whom the balosar made her priority to keep a watchful eye on and kept her from overworking herself. At the heart of the bunch and the one who supported them financially with his freelancing job as a slicer, was a half theelin teen who had grown to admire and love each of them.

The half theelin was in the lounge area of the ship with his crew who were playing a game of sabacc. He chose not to participate, giving an excuse he would rather watch them all suffer under Granny Nyla’s victory. A deep frown settled in his purple face as he slurped his nutrition drink from a long tube as he replayed his recent conversation with Betts.

While everyone was focused on the old theelin’s next, strategic move (purposely taking her time to execute it), the iktotchi leaned into his quiet comrade.

“Something on your mind, Kyp?”

Kyp removed his lips from the tube, “No. Why?”

“Because you’ve been sipping from an empty cylinder for the past five minutes,” he said as he moved it away.

“Oh,” Kyp wasn’t too concerned from being caught in mid-thought. “Qar-Tan,” he murmured under his breath so the others, specifically Zione, wouldn’t hear. “What did you honestly think about Móni coming back to us?”

Qar-Tan exhaled from his nose then propped his elbow on the table, his head resting on his hand, to create a small barrier between them and the loud crew.

“If Zione is right about Móni being targeted by the Empire, then it probably is best she’s not here with us.” His words stung Kyp, and the theelin being as expressive as he was, did not make any intention of hiding his pain. But it did crush Qar-Tan to be the one who forced such an expression. “If she’s as unpredictable as I remember her being, then I wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up out of nowhere with that stupid grin, pretending everything was normal.”

Kyp chuckled without humor at the image, his frown weighing him down. “She won’t.”

The iktotchi furrowed his hairless brows, “What do you mean?”

“I spoke to Betts recently.”

“Yeah?” Qar-Tan was not liking where Kyp was leading him.

“She said she made her choice.”

Qar-Tan raised his head in disbelief, “What do you mean?”

“She’s staying with him.”

“No way,” he dropped his hand and chuckled dryly. “Who would have thought she would end up running around with a crime lord?”

“Hm,” Kyp was distant in his thoughts, remembering how Móni spoke of the leader of the Crimson Veil. She admired and respected him; he would even go as far as thinking she liked him.

“How’d you end up talking to Betts, anyhow?” Qar-Tan brought Kyp back.

“Uh,” Kyp’s blue eyes went wide. “I contacted her.”

“And… What else?”

Kyp glanced at Zione who had a beady eye narrowed in his direction, but then returned to the game. “I’ll tell you later,” he whispered.

“Why not say it now?” Zioned spoke aloud. “You talked about it this far.”

The laughter died in the air while everyone turned to Zione who did not look Kyp’s way, pretending to be mildly interested in the cards in his hand.

“W-well,” Kyp shied away and started his hoverchair. “I think I forgot to check the water system with the plants.”

“The question of why you contacted Betts is not as important as where you did,” he put the cards down. “So where was she when you spoke to her?” He looked at Kyp fully, expecting a very thorough explanation.

“There’s no need to be so strict about it,” Qar-Tan tried to alleviate the tension while also defending Kyp.

“Shut up, Qar-Tan,” the balosar snapped.

“Shut up, Shysha,” he mocked back at her.

“Oh wow. Very mature.”

Zione did not break away from Kyp as if the banter wasn’t even taking place, “Well?”

Unable to hold the amani’s piercing stare Kyp looked down at his controls, ready to flee with a single motion, but he settled with the resolve that it was bound to come out eventually. He only wished it was later.

“At Reth Enterprise,” he murmured.

“What?” Zione’s lips were a firm line, withholding from raising his voice any further. “How did you know she was there?”

“She was uh,” Kyp was tempted to push the button, return to his room, and lock the door behind him until everything was blown over. “She was looking for me.”

Zione narrowed his eyes, searching beyond the young theelin’s words for the answer he refused to tell. When it dawned on him, the amani’s naturally small eyes grew twice their size.

“He’s looking for you.”

Qar-Tan was quick to put himself in front of Kyp when Zione stood fast towering over everyone around him. “Hey, hey. No need to get all mad.”

“Was she looking for you as well?” When Kyp did not answer he asked again with a tone that shook the room. “Was Móni looking for you as well.”

“Yes,” Kyp blurted without thinking but retracted just as fast. “I mean, no! She didn’t know it was me she was looking for, only someone who was feeding Reth information on the Black Suns.”

“You cannot associate with her anymore,” Zione put his foot down on the subject. “She’s dangerous and even more so for choosing to ally herself with him.”

“But, Zione,” Kyp attempted to quell the panic that surged from the amani.

“That’s final.”

Before Kyp could put another word in, his hoverchair console lit red. When he read where the transmission was coming, his hand froze.

“Who is it?” Qar-Tan asked upon reading Kyp’s surprise. “Is it Reth?”

“It’s… unknown.”

“Impossible,” Zione pushed Qar-Tan to the side to inspect the armchair that displayed Kyp’s controls. “Don’t answer it.”

Defiance set in Kyp’s brows and grimaced at his guardian. He selected to accept the transmission allowing only audio to pass between them, “Who is this?”

There was silence on the other end, which edged everyone to huddle around Kyp.

“Am I speaking with the half theelin child?”

Shysha held in a gasp and looked to Zione for their next move. But the amani was just as still as the rest of them. Kyp, though, did not falter under the voice they were all so familiar with, even if they only heard him speak in passing on the Abolition; it was not one that was easily forgotten.

“That’s me. And you must be Maul.”

“So, we know each other and can skip the formalities,” they could hear the smirk in his tone.

“Finally going to track us down and kill us? Was Móni too much for you to handle?”

That stirred another pause from Maul and when he spoke the humor in it was lost, “I know you and your companions have been wandering the galaxy in a light freighter for some time, making it difficult for you to track. But not impossible.”

Zione gripped the console with his massive hand, covering the armrest and the teen’s hand as a plea for him to sever the transmission. Kyp, however, refused to look his way and concentrated on Maul.

“Then what is it you want?”

“I want to hire you for your services.”

“Don’t you already have a partly competent slicer in your ranks?”

“Yes,” he did not deny. “But what I’m asking for concerns a mutual… ally.”

“Móni?” Kyp took a moment to reflect on his words. “In what way?”

“The apprentice has been sent by Reth to Drua Chur’s mine. Do you know of whom I speak?”

“Only vaguely,” he said with some confusion.

“I am in need of this Chur’s history, however, the trail goes no further than when he became a prospector.”

“I’m confused,” Kyp blinked several times. “Is Móni in trouble?”

“You have two options,” Maul ignored the question. “Either you help me, or I will forcibly cease any and all communications between you and the apprentice.”

“Do you mean…?” the teen’s eyes shined with hope.

“No,” Zione interjected unable to keep silent any longer. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you’re not dragging the kid into this.”

“Ah, the amani. Zione, was it? Unfortunately, no one is being played. The options are exactly what you see. And, of course, you will be compensated,” he said as an afterthought.

“What do you want in return of Móni being in contact with Kyp? His allegiance to you?”

“No,” he said slowly as he picked his next words with care. “Not to me. But to the apprentice.”

“What’s the difference? Móni allied herself with you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kyp’s optimism outshined everyone’s unease. “I’ll help Móni.”

“Kyp,” Shysha put her on his shoulder and tried to be the voice of reason. “You can’t risk everything you’ve built for her. It’s not worth it.”

“It is to me,” Kyp motioned his hoverchair out of everyone’s way with full intent to return to his quarters/workspace. “I’ll help you.”

“What are you thinking?” Shysha put a hand to her forehead. “Have you lost your mind? We can’t work with him.”

“You know he can hear everything we’re saying still, right?” Qar-Tan looked worn from the ensuing debate.

“I don’t give a kriff! Do you agree with what Kyp’s doing?”

Qar-Tan and Kyp shared a long stare that spoke more than what words could ever describe, and the iktotchi was weak to the teen’s plea for help. “Kyp isn’t working for Maul, but for Móni. And I still think we can trust her. She won’t risk putting us in danger.”

“You’re a lot of help,” Shysha scoffed. “Zione?”

Zione stood in his full two-meter height, shadowing Kyp below him. Disappointment broke his face and he turned his back on him, “Do what you want.” He left the lounge to return to the cockpit.

“Am I the only sane one around here?” Shysha half shrieked then looked to the old theelin female. “Granny?” Granny Nyla merely displayed her gums with the few teeth she had intact in a grin. “Ugh,” she smacked her head again.

“Then we are in agreement,” Maul declared. “I have a lead for you to start with.”

“You’ve already got the hard part down,” Kyp mused, somewhat impressed.

“I am looking forward to our partnership,” he said with something hidden behind his words, almost malign, but Kyp did not care. He would not abandon Móni, because she never abandoned him when his father died. He owed her that much.

-

Get up sleepy head!

Ravi’s giggles bounced around her skull and forced Móni to open her eyes to an encasement of red ray shields. She pushed herself off the floor with a weight on her neck: a smooth ring that attached snuggly around her throat. Once she reached for it, her body convulsed from a shock being sent directly into her body and tensed her muscles. When its treatment ended, she heaved heavy breaths into her lungs again.

“Wow, you gotta be pretty dangerous if he put that on you.”

In a neighboring cell were a group of ten beings of different races huddled together with neck braces, only theirs appeared to be more of the outdated kind. The one who spoke, a male chagrian, had his arms crossed over his chest and looked on with little interest.

“How’d he get you? Promised food? A place to sleep? Work?”

Móni’s breaths returned to normal and finally assessed her surroundings. Just as she had envisioned through the Force there were four groups of beings trapped in ray shield cells, and from what she could discern at the one closest to her, they were badly scarred with burns; some bad enough where they bled.

“How long have you been here?”

The chagrian shrugged, “Some are new. Some have been sold off already. Some died. Some have been in this game longer than I have.”

Several meters across the cells was a console Móni assumed regulated the ray shields, and at the other end of the rather empty area was the lift she had seen earlier. Her hand reached for her waist and noted her lightsaber wasn’t on her, either.

“Yeah, Druan took that lightsaber. Is that why he thought you were dangerous?”

“Probably. He gets skeevy if there’s even the slightest threat to his life.”

“You know him?”

“At one time or another.”

“Let me guess you escaped, and he found you. You must be some priceless goods… though I don’t really see the appeal.”

“Neither do I,” Móni shrugged. “I mean, have you seen this hair?” she patted the bunched curls.

“Ugh. An optimist,” he groaned and sat on the ground, facing his back to her, displaying lines of dried blood seeping through his soiled clothing.

Móni wanted to ask more, but she wouldn’t put it past Druan, if he was as paranoid as she remembered him being, to be listening in every one of the cells. She began by searching for anything out of place, scuffing her feet around the floor while she looked around the four corners of the cell.

“Do you know why there’s no good ventilation in the docking bay?” Móni asked to strike a conversation and satiate her curiosity.

“It’s to keep us from escaping,” a male togruta spoke. “There have been times some of us have made it to the docking bay, but Druan would lock us in there and suffocate us. Sometimes to death if he really didn’t feel the need to keep us.”

“That’s,” a memory of her and Ravi attempting to escape through the ventilation shafts only to be locked in and nearly died of heat. “That sounds like Druan.”

There was a slight bump that pressed up against her shoe, and she felt through a crevice for a bolt that did not belong. She crushed it between two fingers, blue sparks lightly exploding beneath them. “So, was there just that one device I should be worried about in here?”

The cellmates were silent as they looked between one another for reassurance. The chagrian was the first who motioned with a head nod.

“I was sent to negotiate with Druan on behalf of Reth. You know him?” Several males and females nodded their heads. The fact they knew who Reth smeared an unpleasant picture of the dealings he and Druan did behind closed doors. She was smacked with a new memory she swore herself to forget—it struck too close to the source of everything:

What did Druan say this guy wanted us to do again?

Something about clothes.

Clothes?

About taking them off.

But we don’t do that.

Guess he made an exception.

Móni shook her head and breathed out. Their pain filled her, and she was reminded of the same feelings of hopelessness, shame, and discomfort when she too lived a life like theirs. In a cell further down she spotted a lasat, much younger than her Ravi, being held by an older lasat female. Her chest felt smaller, tightening her throat, and her eyes stung.

I need to do something. She couldn’t be sure what Maul would think about her saving over 40 slaves, or if he would even care. He had already given her permission to kill Druan, but that was before they knew he traded slaves for cheap labor and tasks one wouldn’t need to pay professionally to someone like a zygerrian. It may be the real reason why Vos was working with him in the first place, and the thought enflamed the rage in her veins, fueling her final decision.

“I’m going to get you all out of here,” their eyes shined with something she had once given to Ravi: hope. But this time, she was sure to keep her word.

Chapter Text

“I think we should go to Druan and talk him out of it.”

Ravi smoothed the thin blanket over her cot and fixed her pillow neatly at the head of it. She put both fists on her hips at Móni who was strewn across a crumpled sheet and propped up on a folded pillow.

“Did you hear me?” the lasat moved across the small compartment they shared, which resembled more of a metal box than a room. “Get up,” she shooed the human off and fixed the cot herself.

“I think this is our chance,” Móni picked up her curls in a loose bun.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s only going to be us three in a room.”

“And?”

“And,” Móni drawled out hoping Ravi was getting the picture. “I heard Teevo smuggled in some vibroblades and blasters from his last shift.”

Ravi froze at smoothing the sheet, her large eyes unblinking, “You mean you want to…?”

“I can do it,” Móni closed their distance and craned her neck back slightly at the female who was a few inches taller than herself. “I put a few holes in him and we make our escape,” she gently held her shoulders and grinned. “We’ll finally be free.”

She tried to replicate the optimism, but Ravi found it difficult to comprehend what was being asked of her, “I’ve never killed anyone before.”

“You won’t be doing it, though,” Móni rubbed her arms for reassurance. “You don’t have to do anything. Leave it to me.”

“But it’s the same isn’t it? Watching someone die and doing nothing is just the same as killing them.”

Móni let her arms drop to her sides and rubbed the back of her neck, “I mean. Should we feel sorry for killing him? Look at what he’s paying Druan for us to do.”

“Druan said he’s not allowed to touch us.”

“Yeah,” Móni snorted. “That won’t last long.”

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Ravi’s large, pointed ears shifted down from her insecurity.

“Ravi,” Móni spoke softly as she took the lasat’s much larger hands into hers and squeezed them. “We’ve tried everything we could to get out of here and have been so much luckier than others by getting out of it with just a few lashes. We need to try,” she brought her hand to her lips and kissed it long and soft. “I want you to finally see the galaxy outside these metal walls and smog. See plants, feel dirt between your toes, smell pure air, and hear the insects and birds. There’s so much I want to show you and I feel this is the time to do it.”

Ravi’s ears twitched and took a moment to consider the teen’s words. Their hands remained linked, but Móni stood absolutely still as if making any sudden movement would shift any part of her decision.

Eventually, she nodded and managed a small smile, “Alright.”

“Great. First thing we need to do is make a trade with Teevo for a weapon.”

“And what did you have in mind?” Ravi arched a brow.

“Promise him to go on that date he’s been pestering me about for ages,” Móni exaggerated a sigh. “Won’t matter since we’re getting out of here anyway.”

“Will that be enough?”

“Better be. That’s all I got to convince him with.”

“And how are we going to conceal the weapon? We’re not going to be wearing much to be able to fit it anywhere.”

“I’ll sneak into the room we’re meeting the guy in and hide it in there beforehand,” Móni resolved with ease.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this already haven’t you?”

“Since we were ordered to do this job,” the teen proudly stated.

Ravi’s smirk broke into a smile then into a chuckle, “You’re too much.”

“Too much for you?”

“Never,” Ravi embraced her and ran her thin claws through her curls and softly massaged Móni’s scalp. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, you know that?”

Móni smiled into the lasat’s shoulder and buried her head in it, “Yeah.”

The door to their compartment slid open with an immediate reaction from the intruder, “Get another room! You share this place with like three other people.”

“Do you want a hug too?” Móni leered at the rodian female.

“Not from you!” she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. But then her pursed lips drooped some and reconsidered. “Maybe I do need one,” she murmured.

Ravi and Móni invited the rodian into their embrace; their shared hardships and strife pouring into the other, silently saying they were not alone.

***

In a freighter of his own, Maul waited where he and the child coordinated a rendezvous at a location untouched by the Empire in the Outer Rim in empty space.

He sat alone in the cockpit; a request made by the amani who intervened again. It was a simple promise to abide by as he was unconcerned with the crew’s capabilities to apprehend him or do any significant damage. And the child’s fixation on returning to the apprentice’s side was an opportunity he wouldn’t dare miss.

In the time he waited he stretched out his emotions through the Force to gain any sense of his apprentice’s status. The action required an immense amount of focus and concentration he wasn’t sure he was capable of accomplishing, but he sensed something amiss and could not let it go unchecked.

There was the faintest glimmer in his visions and seized it as soon as it was felt, propelling him parsecs away from his current position to an asteroid. However, he was unable to get any deeper to sense the apprentice’s feelings, the connection faltering as he struggled to maintain it. He opened his eyes, giving up on the venture, and laid his head back against the seat.

Maul couldn’t be too frustrated; if it was difficult to sense her it meant she was keeping her abilities under control and not using explosive amounts of it to signal her location to his master. But her fatigue and loss of shine in her usually bright eyes had him concerned for her emotional state and that this Druan Chur struck deeper than any wound in her past. He had an irking notion she was going to put Vos’ and Reth’s loyalty to the Crimson Veil to the test and it wasn’t the death of Chur that was going to do it.

A light freighter jumped out of hyperspace, its shadow cascading over Maul’s features as it maneuvered its way to the side of his ship and extended a boarding ramp that connected them together. He pressed a button on the console and connected a transmission to the ship, which was instantly received.

“Only the child will board. And the amani if he wishes,” he released the call. Maul was sure the amani would have barged his way through as any overprotective keeper would. It was clear he had formed a parental attachment to the child thus making it impossible to have an official hold on either of them, but it was also clear the theelin made his own decisions and interpreted orders as advice. He allowed them access to board and swerved the seat to face the cockpit’s entrance.

The amani’s height forced him to bend underneath the frame and the top of his head just grazed the ceiling. He stared long and hard at Maul, his finger itching to grab a hold of his holstered blaster and burn a hole through the zabrak’s head. However, the threat went completely unnoticed.

“I am alone, as per our agreement,” Maul said simply and slipped a snide smirk behind his pressed fingers at the amani’s caution.

When he felt it was secure enough, Zione motioned his wide head for the theelin child to enter in his hoverchair. His bright, cerulean eyes caught Maul’s the moment he entered, and without the fear and caution his guardian clearly displayed.

“Were you able to acquire everything I asked for?” Maul asked knowingly.

“Obviously,” the child stated. But the amani stepped in between them.

“We demand to be paid double the amount. My guy on Coruscant had a hard time navigating through the datafiles and was almost killed,” he pointed a long, thin finger at Maul.

Unimpressed, Maul leaned back, “As expected from the Empire’s capital planet. I’m sure he knew the risks involved.”

“Not necessarily,” Zione explained with severity. “Apparently, Druan Chur was involved in a case the Jedi Order had closed personally. And gaining access to those kinds of files isn’t easy. He was lucky because of how old it was.”

Jedi Order? Maul mused. The case reeked of the apprentice’s involvement. He gripped the arm of his seat from the growing swirl of unease in his chest, but he squelched it as quickly as it came.

“Very well,” Maul said dismissively. After a few moments, the amani moved aside for the theelin to make his approach. His hand, the only mobile part of his body other than his facial expressions, danced across the panel on the armrest and a datacard ejected from a port on the armrest’s face. He took it and considered the child for a moment, calculating his condition which could have been remedied at birth. The thought was extinguished and before Maul could dismiss them, the child spoke.

“Most of it are progress reports, but there’s a holorecording that was difficult to decode. I think Móni has some part to this,” he said quietly. He lifted his gaze and pleaded to Maul. “Can I see it as well?”

“No,” the amani was firm. “We’re not spending another second in this creature’s company.”

The air around the theelin vibrated, and Maul sensed something fierce dwelling in his frail form and grazed his emotions, “You are Force-sensitive.”

Zione’s jaw dropped and struggled to articulate his words, “That’s not true. But U’lis said…” His words faded when a weight of sorrow pushed down the teen’s round features.

“I kept it hidden from Father. Móni doesn’t know either,” he said directly to Maul, meant to be kept in confidence. “Please,” he pleaded.

Maul saw no issue in having the child view the datafile, as he was expected to be part of the apprentice’s life from now on, and inserted it into the console.

The holoprojector displayed an empty bedroom with basic furnishings. A drunken barabel stumbled inside and flopped stomach first on the bed before rolling over to his side and staring longingly at the platform before him. Mere minutes later the platform opened and raised two females to the top, wearing nothing but two articles of clothing that covered their chest and another that cascaded down their hips. One of them had a distinctive head of hair and set determination Maul could never forget, no matter the age.

“Móni,” the child gasped under his breath. Maul felt the amani was close by, also taking in the projection of his old friend.

Music began to play and Móni and the lasat danced erotically for the barabel who ogled at them from a distance. He rolled to the floor and crawled to the foot of the platform and pulled at Móni’s thin sash that twirled loosely around her legs. She kicked his hand away.

“Can’t touch the goods. Druan’s orders,” she stated plainly without stopping her dance.

Maul zeroed on the woman’s face and recognized the glint of mischief in her eyes when she had something in the works. He even caught a sardonic quirk in the corner of her lips, withholding the smirk he was sure she wanted so badly to display.

The barabel was insistent and waved his hand at their clothes, “But I was promised a dance without those stupid things.”

“We weren’t told,” Móni feigned ignorance.

The lasat gave Móni a nervous glance but pressed her lips shut.

However, the barabel was not pleased from the snark response and snarled at the females. “You better do as you’re told, else things are going to get unpleasant.”

This time, the lasat bumped hips with Móni as if it were part of the choreography and widened her eyes that hinted caution. Móni being who she was, ignored the warning and continued, “I think you may have misheard Druan from your drunken state and only heard what you wanted to hear.”

His snarl turned low and threatening and pulled Móni off the platform by the ankle. “I remember very clearly what Druan told me. He said I can do whatever I want to you wenches. From what it sounded like, you lost favor with him.”

“Móni!” the lasat gasped. “Please, let her go. We’ll do as you say.”

“That’s more like it,” he licked his lips. “Why don’t you follow your pretty friend’s example and be a good girl.”

Móni struggled from the barabel’s grip, which tightened making her wince. Defiance settled in her features and she extended a hand towards the bed.

“No.”

From under the bed flew a vibroblade she recalled with the Force and aimed its heated metal at the barabel’s wrist. However, his scales protected him from the brunt of the attack, and he pulled back with a hiss.

“Why you!” he gnashed his needle-sharp teeth at her and stopped her next swing with ease, his hand encasing both the hands she had gripped onto the hilt. He lifted her in the air and ignored her profuse kicking. He hissed a laugh, amused by the display, but stopped when he noticed his hand expanding over hers.

Her teeth grit and her arms bulged from the strain of pulling her hands apart from within his hold. The barabel fought against her strength and struggled to maintain the upper hand. When he noted his impending loss, he brought a fist into her bare stomach, leaving thin gashes of blood from his scaled knuckles.

“You’re strong for a human,” he observed with some suspicion.

“Stop it!” The lasat jumped onto the barabel’s back, her height matching his own, and hooked an arm around his neck.

“Drop her or else I’ll finish the job,” she said without any real intent behind her meek threat.

The barabel brought his scaled head back and struck the lasat’s, leaving a large gash on her forehead and blood dripping down the side of her lavender face. Before she could slide to the ground, he gripped her from behind by the throat and lifted her. She clawed at his hands but only did damage to herself from his tough skin.

Móni coughed and breathed in, “Ravi! Let her go. Now!”

“If you agree to do as I say, then I will.”

“No! We’re not supposed to be doing that sort of stuff. Druan’s rules.”

“Oh, but he made an exception for you two. Clearly, you’ve tried to escape one too many times. I’m here to teach you a lesson,” his breath reeked of alcohol and whatever nasty food he ate.

“Móni,” Ravi said weakly. “We tried. Let’s stop.”

“I refuse,” Móni huffed. “I won’t be that slime’s pawn any longer,” the base of her foot struck the barabel’s arm, cracking several scales. He hissed from the pain and nearly loosened his hold on her, but he regained his strength with a roar that silenced Móni.

He looked between the females, as if deciding his options, and gleamed his teeth at the human. His hold on Ravi tightened and she kicked from the lack of air and her gasps were short.

“Stop it!” she went for another kick, but he swung her against the platform, her ankle hitting the edge sending a jolt of pain up her leg.

His smile widened, revealing more teeth and squeezed harder. Ravi was incapable of speech; her eyes rolled back and drool came down the corners of her mouth. Móni heaved heavy breaths, breaking between sobbing and screaming, then she stared at the barabel with a ferocity that could have shrunk a sentient with fear.

Maul removed the hand that was connected to his lips in concentration when he recognized the flicker in her eyes when she was about to execute a powerful surge of the Force. But she stopped and was not looking at the barabel or the lasat, but beyond; as if there was another being in the room speaking to her. Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with tears, and something inside her shattered. She shook her head at whoever was speaking to her and mumbled something incomprehensible under her breath.

She struggled with fear and panic and attempted at breaking apart the barabel’s hold on her hands again. She screamed against his grip and was nearly there at freedom. But when she thought she had made it in time, the barabel threw Ravi’s body against the platform, her neck striking directly against the edge, breaking it.

Móni turned limp.

“That shut you up,” the barabel sighed with finality. “Annoying human." He brought her close to him and whispered in her ear what the viewers could not hear while his free hand pulled down on the piece of cloth that covered her chest.

Her head snapped and she bit deep into a soft spot of his neck below the jaw triggering a horrible screech from the barabel. He finally released her, and she spit out a piece of skin with scales from her bloodied mouth.

“You whore!”

In a flash of rage, so quick even Maul would have missed if he blinked, the vibroblade connected against the hand the barabel was holding his bleeding neck with. She continued riding through the slash, screaming like some feral creature, until the blade had nothing else to sever.

The barabel’s head and fingers fell to the floor.

Móni gasped for breath and dropped the blade as she made her way to the lasat. Her head pressed against hers and her lips brushed against her temple whispering quiet words. She rocked back and forth with dry sobs escaping her lungs.

Something alerted Móni at the entrance, forcing her away from the lasat—her fingers lingering on her body as she did so. From the barabel’s beheaded corpse she found a commlink and tapped in a frequency, then returned it to its pocket. Back at Ravi’s side, she shut the lifeless eyes and pressed her bloodied lips to the lasat’s stiff ones. A sob nearly tore its way out of her throat, but she held back and released Ravi for good to make her exit from the crime scene.

In the moments the holorecording continued playing, Maul vaguely recalled the neimoidian entering the room with an associate and vented his rage over the mess the apprentice had made, especially with her clever tactic of contacting Coruscant’s law enforcement with the barabel’s commlink; tracking them to Druan’s hideout.

The crime lord was struck with a vision through the Force: memories that weren’t his flashed through his mind along with the emotions that came with it.

Ravi’s reclining body was still. Her lavender pigment faded to a lighter shade and her upturned bright, yellow-green eyes lost their light. A bone protruded from her slim neck and all Móni could muster was a groan from the back of her throat, unable to comprehend the death or her lack of action that could have prevented it.

Móni was running down alleys drenched in smog and wet with filth. The panic mixed with her torment made it difficult for her to breathe, so she found an obscure corner behind an overfilled and broken incinerator to crouch and rest her weary body. No tears or screams came when it was clear she wanted to express all of it, to release it all into the polluted air, but it remained trapped inside. A punishment she gave herself and a set resolve Maul didn’t understand.

Maul blinked and was back in his ship. His brows furrowed from the intensity and clear conception of the apprentice’s thoughts and feelings being connected to his own. Maul made no effort or will towards the Force to enact such a feat, but he wasn’t blind enough to ignore its whims. He glanced at the theelin child who was staring dumbfounded from the shocking revelation of the apprentice’s past. The amani had its massive hand clenched onto the hoverchair’s headrest and carried the same disposition as the smaller being before him.

Maul, however, couldn’t be more pleased with the fact he had unlocked a piece of his apprentice. He was getting closer to the source of her turmoil and harnessing her latent abilities. The true question was, what stopped her from using the Force when she hadn’t known his master was living there until years later?

Another question scratched at him. She had once said to allow himself to mourn for Savage and release the pain, but she hadn’t done the same for the lasat. It was clear she had locked her away in the same way he had pushed back his brother. He shut his eyes away from the guilt that surfaced and forced it back down.

I see. Blame was what kept them from mourning.

“Did you also salvage anything of his current operations?” Maul returned the room to the matter at hand, ready to make his first move.

The child recovered from the reverie and nodded, “Druan is doing the same thing he did on Coruscant, just on a smaller scale. Vos uses those specific services often and buys his precious stones as a cover. Reth is the same. It’s all in there.”

Maul growled and stood at that, inciting the amani to wedge himself between him and the child from the abrupt movement; though Maul hardly noticed the action. The affluent fools would do anything to secure their wealth and status by any means, and their physical attachment to beings—specifically Reth—could in fact prove to be a hindrance.

“Leave,” he said plainly. “You will be compensated as per our agreement,” he turned to his guests with a glare that wasn’t meant for them but was there all the same and enough for them to start their exit.

The child stopped and faced the zabrak who had his back to them, “Are you going to help her?”

“The apprentice doesn’t need assistance,” Maul showed his profile to the theelin. “She is more capable of getting out of there alive than any of us.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he glowered at him.

Maul stared long and hard at the child, unraveling his words. The theelin did not view him as a master to the apprentice, but something else entirely. And what, he could not fathom, nor did he care.

“You are dismissed,” he said as a final warning.

The theelin lingered on him before finally seeing himself out with the amani. Once they disengaged from his ship and jumped into hyperspace, Maul paced in the cockpit with several ploys reeling in his head and studying the vision the Force gave him.

What did it mean?

He fit the fragments together: her feelings of guilt and torment, the slaves she would most likely encounter on the asteroid, Druan taking notice of her upon her arrival for she held a unique appearance (the eyes especially), and the newly mastered control of her abilities in the Force. He rubbed his knuckles under his chin when he was illuminated with the answer and he couldn’t help but extend a cruel smile.

She is going to plot for revenge.

Now that he understood the gravity of her intentions, he knew how to strike a new deal with Vos. He will give the apprentice her revenge and watch the Dark Side’s webs take hold of her.

-

Móni was crossed-legged on the floor, a position she had involuntarily been accustomed to sitting like more often, and waited patiently for the neimoidian who was sure to drop by and speak to the woman who ended his business on Coruscant single-handedly. And she was going to do it again.

The cellmates were fidgeting about, unable to contain the impending and unknown outcome of their probable freedom. The chagrian kept glancing at Móni with a million and one questions, but uttered none of them, holding them in by chewing his nails.

In unison, the room’s entirety put their attention on a descending lift. Armed workers filed out followed by Druan Chur, his thin frame blending into the shadows. He paid no attention to his agitated slaves and focused on the singular woman who did not raise her head at him when he approached.

“Fate must have brought you to me, Durmónia,” his voice cracked, and he placed a delicate finger to his throat from the pain.

“Your throat doing alright? I can make it where you won’t have to feel anything at all,” Móni smirked.

“You’re as impudent as I remember,” he said with distaste. “It’s too bad your lasat couldn’t escape with you. What was her name? Ravi?”

His smarmy mouth speaking her name raised the hairs on Móni’s neck and it took an immense amount of concentration to subdue her emotions and rendered it still.

Good. She could hear Maul’s positive appraisal or his version of one. Rather than surrender herself to Druan’s provocations, Móni searched his body for her lightsaber and saw it was attached to his belt.

“I’m surprised you bothered remembering our names,” Móni bantered as she assessed the number of guards he came in with. She counted four and each was armed with blasters in hand and an electro-whip on their hips. “Weren’t we expendable?”

“Ravi was one of my oldest and most loyal workers until you came along. She would still be alive if you hadn’t decided to put delusions of romance and far away planets into her pretty little head.”

Móni sneered at him, the bridge of her nose scrunching from the profanity and at her own blame. She was slipping. Her confidence was fading, and she felt like that teenage girl who knelt before Druan so many times with her back bared at him for a lashing.

…whatever happened in your past and whatever will happen know that you, apprentice, are not the one at fault. He is.

She was at fault. But so was Druan. If they had done nothing, she and Ravi would have ended up dead. Móni shut away from what could have been if she hadn’t hidden the vibroblade, and the results would have been catastrophic--worse than death. A small part of herself was saying she granted Ravi peace instead of succumbing the rest of her life without dignity and pride, and enslaved all at the same time.

More armed workers came down the lift and tallied up to ten in total. “You seem to be paranoid about something. As usual,” Móni tossed her head back and moved aside the strand of curls.

Druan patted the lightsaber he had on his hip, “If there’s one thing I know about Jedi is to not underestimate them. Even if your whole Order has been extinguished.”

“I’m not a Jedi,” Móni sighed. “I happened upon the lightsaber and thought it was cool.”

“You mean the Jedi never found you after your escape?” he scoffed a dry laugh. “That’s hard to believe.”

Móni shrugged, “I have my ways, which you’re more than aware of.” She loosened her disciplined position and propped an elbow on her knee. “So, we’re going to keep reminiscing or are you here for something?”

“I had considered keeping you. Watch you disintegrate into nothing and become an empty shell of your former self. But if you were difficult to maintain then, I can’t imagine how you’ll be now, so I’ve opted on something more entertaining,” he snapped his fingers.

All ten of the workers circled around Móni’s cell and holstered their blasters to arm themselves with the electro-whip. A coy smile made its way on the neimoidian’s sagging features at Móni’s obvious understanding of the situation.

“Going to whip me until I pass out? That’s nothing new from you,” Móni snarked.

“No,” his smile showed brown and skewed teeth. “To kill.”

He turned his back to her to make his way to the console and Móni readied her hands at enough distance to not activate the shock collar. But the moment she flexed her fingers, she was shocked into submission.

“I have tasked each of them to activate it if you so much as move a finger,” Druan called from across the room where he stood by the console. “Finally,” he sighed with content, “Something worthwhile on this awful rock.” He pressed a button and the ray shield fell.

Móni moved to sidestep from a whip, but she was shocked again and this time it lasted much longer. She collapsed to the floor screaming until her throat went hoarse from self-infliction and the shock. Then the whips came.

Every sting, every sound of it whistling in the air as it came down, turned her into the teen who struggled to survive on her own and failed to save someone she loved dearly.

Don’t fail me.

Don’t give up.

She remained crouched on the ground, completely still, and taking in the multitude of blows across her back, arms, and legs. She filtered the pain into her very core, igniting the rage and hatred for the one being in the galaxy she could not and would not stand to live any longer. Móni recalled the time she constructed her lightsaber without her hands to propel the Force and replicated that mental high when the galaxy faded away and it was just her and her weapon.

It was just her and the shock collar.

The high whistling muted, and the pain numbed. She visualized the shock collar in her hands and tore it apart like fine fabric.

Outside her vision and to reality, the collar was torn in half on the ground. Streams of blood fell down her arms and she could feel the wetness on her back. Her mouth tasted of iron and her bottom lip was inflamed along with her left cheekbone and brow.

No one moved. No one breathed at the spectacle of some magic force tearing apart the collar when the woman hadn’t lifted a finger.

“Don’t just stand there!” Druan stuttered into panic. “Strike her!”

One brave nikto raised his whip, and Móni felt the Force around her vibrate from the action and the tail of the lash penetrating the air behind her. With hardly any movement she grasped the whip, the electricity burning her hand, and hauled it over her head taking the nikto at the end of it. His body collided hard on the ground before her and was rendered unconscious from the impact that may have broken his spine and cracked his skull.

In a flurry of fear the rest of the workers lashed in unison. Móni gathered a small part of the Force around her and expanded it outward sending them flying back. She whipped her head at the neimoidian who flinched under her gaze and recalled her lightsaber.

The blood-orange glow illuminated her bloodied and bruised features and she readied her stance for the next victim.

Upon seeing the lightsaber, the workers dropped their whips and pulled out their blasters and fired at her. She deflected the bolts, only a few rebounding back to the shooter. With the Force, she pulled away a blaster from a human’s hands and Force pushed him to the high ceiling then released him, his body striking the floor with a loud thud.

With some workers she deflected and flipped to their position to slash at them, others she drew towards her with the Force and either impaled with her saber or struck with her elbow. Eventually, they were all incapacitated or dead and she made her way to the neimoidian whose fear sunk him to the floor.

“Mercy,” Druan begged. “Please have mercy. I’ll stop the whole operation. I’ll give you all the credits I have.”

Móni did not look his way and released the slaves from their containment. “Grab the blasters,” she commanded them. “There’s more on the way.” A few followed her advice and camped by the lift.

Druan yelped when Móni dragged him across the floor by the collar and flung him to the center of the room for everyone to witness. She recalled an electro-whip and lashed at the floor, nearly missing his thin fingers.

“What are you going to do?” He trembled.

“What do you think?” Móni lifted the whip above her head and struck the creature at her feet. She did not relent when he begged. She did not pause when a new wound opened. She did not feel when his screams fell short and his breaths became shallow. Blasters echoed through the area and faded behind her haze of rage.

Druan’s victims stood silently around him without pity and without remorse. Even the small lasat child held an emotionless gaze at his writhing body.

When his body turned motionless with just the faintest rise and fall in his chest, she stopped and stared at the sack of bloodied flesh. She tossed the electro-whip and made her way to the lift.

The chagrian stepped up to the mangled body and burned a bolt into his head, silencing Druan forever.

With the Force, Móni removed the fresh pile of bodies at the lift, “I’ll head first and clear a way for you to the docking bay. Those who can use a blaster, come with me.”

A select few, including the chagrian and togruta males followed the woman to the lift.

“Do you think they’ll still come after us even after we killed Druan?” the togruta asked.

“Probably,” Móni was feeling the burns from the lashes on her back and arms since the adrenaline had subsided. “If it’s not Druan they’re worried about anymore, it’s his employers who paid for you guys. And they want their money’s worth,” it also hurt to speak from her split lip. “Stay behind me and find cover whenever you can.”

The door slid open to a group of workers waiting for them, but before they fired a bolt, Móni Forced pushed them back out into the hallway. The chagrian was the first to act and fired his bolts at the heap of bodies on the ground, then the rest followed suit.

“Four of you go back down and collect the rest of them. They should have a straight shot to the docking bay by the time we reach it.”

Móni was left with the chagrian and togruta, and two females: a nautolan and cerean. She led them down the hall and past the workers’ quarters. The air trembled from an unknown risk that surrounded them when there was nothing ahead. She put her hand to the wall and envisioned what lied beyond them through the Force—two to three beings hidden behind the line of closed doors with weapons in hand.

“Get ready,” she whispered and motioned them to stand further behind them. She waved her hand toward the controls nearest her and slid the entrance open revealing two stunned workers which she dragged out with the Force and in one swift motion with her lightsaber singed their necks with its tip.

She was able to repeat the same action for several doors down until the workers picked up on the noise and popped out of their quarters with blasters raised. A war of red bolts zoomed from the front and behind and she deflected with twists and spins of her lightsaber, marking many with burns or killing them outright.

Móni and her company pushed forward, leaving a path of corpses behind them.

The rest of the way they were met with some resistance, but not enough to break their stride until they reached the threshold of the docking bay which was oddly quiet.

“They plan on locking us in there,” the chagrian surmised. “And suffocate us.”

“Then we’ll open a few windows,” Móni swiped at the door’s controls with the lightsaber, forcing it to remain open. Then she compared the wall’s thickness to her weapon, which was not long enough to cut through and create a new opening. On the other side of the wall, inside the bay, there was a beam connected to it and the ceiling. Beneath the platform it was supporting were three starships.

“How many starships you think you’ll need?”

“Well,” the togruta nodded his head at the opposite end of the bay. “We can use that small commercial ship they use to transfer all the stones… and us.”

“Perfect.”

She extended her hand toward the beam and pulled it away, taking a large chunk of the metal wall with it. The lack of its foundation collapsed the platform and crushed the ships below, and a sizable hole was made.

“Look at that,” she stood proud before the small team. “Not bad, right?”

They stared at her with only mild amusement.

“That’s one way of doing it,” the chagrian murmured at the woman’s explosive nature.

Móni ran out first to check the area and felt through the Force for any more incoming workers. She motioned for them to enter, “Go and prep the ship.”

The females were the first to board and fired its engines. It was then the first wave of their counterparts entered the area, each looking strangely at the torn hole in the wall and crushed ships.

As they began to file up the ramp, the hidden entrance Móni had spotted earlier when she first arrived carried out dozens of workers who blasted on site. To shield those who were unarmed, she tugged at a ship and set it before them, blocking all the bolts and a straight path to them.

She blocked what she could from herself, but they kept pouring out in drones overpowering her small party and herself. Móni puffed out a short spurt of air and stopped her deflections to focus the Force on the platform above them. Her fingers grasped at the air and bent the metal, then her arms swung down pulling the metal slab on top of the workers, crushing them. She maneuvered some debris towards the entrance and blocked it from any more incoming operatives.

“Everyone in?” she asked those armed around her and who gawked at the scene.

“Yeah,” the chagrian said while he ushered those who remained on the floor to assist Móni into the ship. He stopped to hold an arm out to her, “Thank you.”

Móni gladly clasped the other’s forearm, “Have you got a destination in mind?”

“A few. For some, the only galaxy they knew was the Republic. It’s going to be hard for them to acclimate to the Empire.”

“Some of us still are,” she huffed. “You’ll be fine. I’m only sorry I can’t offer any more help.”

He shook his head, his lethorns moving with him, “You’ve done more than enough, Durmónia, who is not a Jedi.”

“I’m really not,” she wanted to laugh at his scrutiny, but the pain in her mouth didn’t allow her.

“What are you going to do about Reth?”

“Who knows?” she scanned the area with another wicked plot formulating. “I’m about to disappoint him even more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know where the power source is?”

The chagrian was ready to respond with a ‘no’, but the togruta who was halfway up the ramp spoke for him, “Further down the hall that led to our cells is another lift that leads to Druan’s command center. You should be able to find it from there.”

She grinned what she could through the pain and nodded, “Safe travels, everyone.”

“May the Force be with you,” the togruta responded before the ramp closed after him and the chagrian.

The phrase created little impact on Móni and was usually deflected with stark indifference, but she knew he meant well by it and accepted it kindly.

Their ship lifted off ground and exited the bay, into the stars, and hyperspaced towards their freedom.

“Hey, Betts,” Móni spoke into her commlink. “Enjoyed the show?” she stared directly at her ship that was parked beside the commercial vessel.

“I was somewhat entertained.”

“Glad you thought so, but you know, Maul had the ship outfitted with laser cannons.”

“Yes. And?”

“Just wanted to make sure if you knew they were there or not.”

“Are we getting out of here or not?”

“In a second. Gotta do something first.”

Móni and Betts soared away from the hollow asteroid and out of its explosive range. The morphing hues of bright blue and white from the power cells, and red and black from the fuel canisters swirled into one giant puff of smoke and fire; extinguishing everything from her past and unshackling herself from the weight of it.

It was done and, yet, she didn’t feel completely at peace with herself.

As they entered hyperspace, Betts’ photoreceptors dialed in out at Móni’s wounds, “Am I treating those for you?”

“Just use a stim pack,” she mumbled. “I don’t wanna move from here.”

After Betts injected her with the stimulant, the mix of relief and exhaustion fluttered her eyes closed and Ravi’s lavender face danced behind her eyelids.

I knew you could do it.

-

Maul’s back straightened and tilted his head some from a small disquiet in the Force.

Kast and Gar ceased speaking when they noted their lord’s divergence from the holomap of Andelm IV and its mining drill with smaller displays of a gigoran and their statistics surrounding it. He made a swift exit from the briefing room, leaving behind two puzzled Mandalorians who knew better than to question their leader’s actions; no matter how peculiar they may be.

Down the hall and up the staircase into D’Qar’s late afternoon’s mist, Maul trekked through the jungle into the open clearing where he sent the apprentice flying into her first solo assignment. He stood alone with the chilling winds and focused on a singular point in the dark sky from which he sensed the point of her approach.

The closer she came, the stronger her presence in the Force was. Nothing stirred in his still form while he searched her feelings, and when he tapped into a calm river of emotions his lungs eased out a steady breath of air he had not noticed was being withheld.

Exactly where he assumed the point of insertion, the whirring engines of a starship echoed across the atmosphere and she peeked out amongst the heavy clouds and came into view. He started his approach as it descended and went up the ramp that was instantly extended for him.

Past the galley and down the hall he heard the droid and the apprentice bickering.

“Do I need to help you?” said the droid in its monotonous tone.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“Then don’t help. I can do it myself.”

“Good. I’m tired of carrying your load all the time.”

“So dramatic.”

Maul entered the cockpit to an apprentice barely capable of leaving her seat and the droid watching her do so. Unsurprised by his entrance, she turned and displayed her marred features.

“Look who it is. I get a nice welcoming,” she wanted to laugh but she touched her split lip with a hiss.

“Sit,” he told her as he came around and leaned back against the console with his arms crossed. She did as she was told with a somewhat dejected face. She knew he was not completely unaware of her actions and was prepared for what she thought was a harsh reprimand. “Did you kill him?”

“Yes,” she said without pride.

“What else did you do?”

She glanced away to her hands, one of them raw and blistering from a burn, “I freed the slaves.”

Maul had expected as much given her circumstances from the past. The woman wasn’t an inherently good-willed person, but she had her own code of morals she stood behind and he was content enough that it included a certain degree of carnage.

“Is that all?”

“And I blew up the asteroid.”

Perhaps more than a certain degree.

“How do you feel?” he asked looking directly into her bemused eyes.

She furrowed her brows, “In pain?”

Maul spoke with leisure and enunciated the final word with a hint of wicked delight, “How do you feel about your revenge?”

The apprentice was taken aback and searched him with brimming questions, “What do you mean? What do you know?”

“I happened upon datafiles from your early years on Coruscant.”

She sunk back into the seat and attempted to solve her own questions in her mind, “At what point in time?” she asked softly.

“Your last day with Druan.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands gripped onto the armrests and she battled the tears from spilling. In some way, he connected the silent sobs from the time he caught her sleeping with tears cascading down her temple. Maul finally understood in part the source of her torment, but he did not feel any pleasure from the fact. Her emotions poured into him and rather than push them out he harbored them; hoping to dissect all the mystery of her power and origins.

“So, what now?” she soothed away the sudden flux of pain and returned to what was important. “I’m genuinely surprised you’re not upset at me. I was so ready for one of your fits.”

If he had any ounce of sympathy for the woman, it was most certainly gone. And the usual feeling of irritation returned like an old friend.

“If I hadn’t decided to look into Druan, then you most certainly would have dealt with some before you even landed.”

Mirth filled her eyes of the laughter she could not physically express and Maul couldn’t help but exhale the exasperation. She was more put together than he thought she would be; she may have returned to him a stronger woman rather than the shattered one he had expected. His ploy of revenge for her did not conform her to the Dark Side, instead, it altered her in a different way—a way he did not understand. He wondered if it had something to do with freeing the slaves. A balance of death and life.

“I’m ready for a hot shower and some food,” she said with a grunt as she peeled herself away from the leather seat. He heard the sticky squelch of blood and skin tearing away and saw her back was nearly bare with mere strands of fabric holding the top to her body. There was one gash—deep and open—that touched her left shoulder blade and extended diagonally to her lower back. The rest of the lashes weren’t as deep, but they were red and blistered and covered the entirety of her back.

“Does it look as bad as it feels?”

“Why haven’t you treated it?”

“Betts gave me a stim pack.”

Maul faced the droid who had not moved since he stepped into the cockpit, “Is it not your duty as a droid to help your master?” A growl sizzled its way up his throat as he spoke, but he knew idle threats meant nothing to it.

“I’m only following my master’s orders.”

He stared blankly at it then returned to the apprentice, “Useless.”

“We know,” they said in unison and he couldn’t have been more baffled by their relationship or why she bothered keeping it.

“Can you walk?” He said as he sent a transmission via his wrist panel.

“Let’s see,” she stood with a stiff back and legs, then took one step. The back of her legs also suffered some lashes thus was unable to walk with total ease. “It’ll take me forever to get to the base, but I’ll be fine.”

A crack of thunder was heard in the distance and the drizzle of rain fell harder.

“I mean to the galley,” Maul corrected her assumption. “I’ve requested a speeder bike to be sent here.”

She held onto the seat and took a few steps on her own. When she reached the doorway, she used the walls as support and made her way down the hall. With her wounds in full view to him, he swallowed the bubbling delight of her eradicating those who mutilated her and did so without harboring any regrets or pity for them. And this was just the beginning; he couldn’t imagine what the results of drilling his teachings into her would accomplish down the line.

“So,” she began. “What are we going to do about Reth and Vos? Cheap labor isn’t something to scuff at.”

“They’ve been dealt with,” he said with a hint of smugness and satisfaction.

“What?” she showed her profile to express her disbelief at him. “But, how? Did you know I was going to do all that?”

“No,” he changed position to stepping in slow steps alongside her. “After watching the holorecording, I gained some insight into what you may do.”

“And you… allowed it?”

“Yes,” he stated proudly. “Revenge is a selfish act and a tool for the Dark Side.”

“Even if it’s on behalf of someone else?”

“Was your revenge done for someone else?” he asked knowing the answer.

She took a moment to reflect on the question, “No. It was done for me. To rid myself of the guilt.”

“And did it?”

“No,” they stopped in the galley and Maul waited for what he felt she had more to say before opening the ramp. “But I gained something else,” a softness relaxed her features. “I got closure on a part of my life I forced myself to forget. I’m finally free of it.”

Although she couldn’t form a full smile her emotions were tranquil with undertones of turmoil. She was still struggling, and yet…

Maul gaped at her and the feelings she was radiating. It was chaos, but with a certain stability he could not grasp how it was maintained.

Free? The concept of the term was foreign to him. No one was ever truly free. He was taught by his master he would forever be confined to the wills of the Dark Side of the Force. It was a part of him as much he was a part of it. It was something he accepted without question and made it his livelihood. It was all he needed.

But do I want it? He shoved the uncertainty away and banished it from ever resurfacing. A sneer curled his lips at the woman implanting useless things into him. Again.

He pressed the control panel harder than necessary to release the ramp and stood in sheer silence.

“Don’t forget your promise to me,” she spoke with defiance and broke his angry spell.

“I have not forgotten,” the rage lulled when he was reminded of another important matter. “However, I do expect an answer to my question in turn.”

“Are you serious? That’s not even fair after all I do for you and deal with.”

“On the contrary, apprentice,” he spoke with amusement, “it is fair. I had to recreate my negotiations with Vos because of your actions.”

“That you allowed.”

Maul hummed without care for the details, “Would you have done anything differently if I had not?”

“I suppose not,” she pouted, a reaction he had never seen her do and he felt a tickle in the back of his throat from it. He suppressed it the moment it was there and sustained a blank face.

“What is it then?” she relented.

“From what I saw on the holorecording, your strength was unrivaled even at that age. Why did you not use your abilities?”

She was still for a moment, watching the hard rainfall on the speeder bike that was left at the base of the ramp for them.

“I was scared,” she finally said. “I didn’t know Palpatine was on Coruscant at the time, but any use of my abilities back then was no different than putting a tracking beacon on me. If I had used it, it would not just be me in danger but Ravi too.”

Maul felt the fear vibrate within her and the swirl of guilt crashing with it. “There’s more,” he growled remembering her young self communicating with some invisible being.

She arched a brow at him and twisted her lips in thought, “Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. But you won’t know for sure unless you have the dinner you also promised with me once I’m healed.”

Maul inhaled the smell of wet grass and rain into his tight lungs. “And if I say no?” he said through gritted teeth.

“But you already told me yes,” she came off as almost whining. “You can also tell me what you’ve been hiding as well. It’ll be fun!”

He scoffed and made his way into the rain and on the speeder bike, starting its engines. He only conceded then to end their pointless argument and hoped it would have been forgotten. But how could he forget the woman’s relentlessness?

She followed along, the rain soaking her clothes, “So, is that a yes?”

Maul tapped his finger on the throttle as he deliberated the pros and cons of it, and—to his infuriating surprise—he found no cons. He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been resenting the taste of ration bars, and conversing with her when it was not in the middle of their training was more fulfilling than he had expected. He would be able to get more of the information he sought after if he did things her way.

In the veil of gray rain, her eyes were still bright, and he wanted nothing more than to get inside and rid of his clinging wet clothes into dry ones and meditate away her intensity and pouts. But if he consented now, there was no going back.

He nodded his head with finality and her joy soared across the planet. The strength of it was felt even more so when she sat behind him.

There was a raging battle on his feelings of her unbridled happiness, the victor was usually the part of himself that despised it. The other and more subtle part swelled with mild pleasure. For in the cold rain, her warmth radiated, and it was not entirely unpleasant.

Chapter Text

The bacta tank could be marked as one of the most uncomfortable experiences Móni had ever encountered. In her many years, she had never sustained as many injuries as she had currently and was advised she should be put in it; even when she was strongly against the idea of being submerged in bacta fluid half nude for hours. Móni countered she wasn’t concerned about the scarring and would rather heal naturally.

“Heal naturally?” Avin had trouble comprehending. “What do you mean?”

When Avin and Myn took Móni off Maul’s hands in the medical bay, he gave a final glance, gold piercing her with a certain softness before he disappeared into the shadows.

“I mean,” she said. “Just put some bacta spray on it, burn it shut, and be done with it.”

Myn, although entertained, shook his head, “You’ll only be inconveniencing Lord Maul if you take the long process if he needs you again. Get in the tank.”

Móni hadn’t been scolded since she was a child, and Myn was adept at it.

Left alone with Avin in a thick garment that covered her chest and lower regions, she groaned as she looked down at the rippling fluid below. A harness was strapped around her chest and attached to the lid above that would seal her shut.

“Ready?” Avin was at the controls, his finger at the ready.

“No,” she said as she put the aquata breather to her mouth and nose.

“It’ll only feel like you’ve been in there a few minutes. Promise.”

She gave a solemn nod for her descent, and her feet touched the unnaturally thick liquid. It was smooth to the touch and its low temperature sent shivers up her spine and down her fingertips.

Once completely submerged Avin loosened the harness for her back injuries to get the proper treatment it needed and lowered the oxygen to force her into a comatose state. The swimming air bubbles and medical bay blurred together until she was closed away into nothing.

It was loud. It was so loud. The whispers.

In a dense fog that layered over an empty void, Móni waved her hands through it curiously. Then above her was an emblem that glowed in pure white: two shapes formed as one, a pyramid and a cube. She reached for it with a single finger and was enveloped in its light.

The fog and darkness unveiled a forest of nut trees, epiphytes, and foliage that were not of D’Qar, they were of…

Home.

The smell, the colors, the taste of it was exactly how she remembered it. She pressed a hand onto a clump of moss on a rock and soaked in its texture between her fingers.

Hello, M óni.

Ravi stood tall with her lilac skin glowing under the golden rays, displaying her sharp canines, and her ears twitching with glee.

Ravi, Móni sighed with affection. You look exactly the same.

She covered her giggle, Of course, I do.

But, how are you…? she faded and took a better look at her surroundings. The sky was empty, and she felt no life pulsing through her. A dream.

Ravi pressed a fist to her cheek as she hummed in thought, Sort of? A Force dream? I don’t understand myself. But I do know this is only possible through you. I never really understood all the Force stuff when you explained it to me. But it was fun to listen to!

Móni laughed freely without the split lip to constrain her. I was just glad you believed me and didn’t think I was crazy for hearing strange voices in my head.

But there’s someone who would understand, Ravi’s humor plunged some and her canines hid behind a timid smile.

What do you mean?

Maul. He would understand. Why haven’t you told him yet?

Shame and embarrassment flushed her cheeks and ears at her mentioning him by name, as is she had been caught. It’s not like it’s the easiest thing to talk about. And he expects so much from me, I don’t know how it would affect him.

You mean how it would affect the two of you, Ravi corrected with some smugness.

You’re teasing me.

I’m not. I’m really glad you found someone who can understand you, she stated with an ache in her tone.

Ravi, you know that part of myself doesn’t matter to me—how much I hate it. I was happy being able to share it with someone. I was happy to feel normal when I was around you. You made me feel like a regular girl. And as for… him, she said with some difficulty, He sees me as nothing more than a weapon and I’m fine with that.

The lasat’s large eyes gleamed with a secret she wasn’t supposed to tell, You can’t deny that part of yourself, Móni. It is who you are, and he can help you down that path.

What if I don’t want to? And, knowing him, he’d probably exploit it in some way.

You don’t believe that, Ravi spoke with confidence. You see beyond Lord Maul of the Crimson Veil and leader of one of the Crime Syndicates.

Yeah, well, Móni sighed. I’ve been wrong before.

You know Maul is nothing like him.

Móni thought fondly of her master who she compared with U’lis and understood they were nothing alike. As if struck by a bright flash of light, she waved away all thoughts about Maul and U’lis and the connotations behind all of it.

This is ridiculous. It can’t happen. And it won’t.

Regardless, Ravi closed their distance and held the human’s smaller hands into her large ones. You need to tell him.

I’m so scared, Móni bent her head and covered her eyes with the back of Ravi’s hands. Sometimes I feel like its better to live in ignorance and forget everything.

You’ve tried that for most of your life already, and you were unhappy, Ravi said gently. You’re the happiest I’ve seen in a very long time, and it was because you’ve allowed the Force to come back into your life. It’s a part of you and you need to accept it.

What’s my purpose, Ravi? She looked up with wet eyes. Why do I exist?

Ravi looked away with her face scrunching in pain, I can’t tell you. You’re not ready.

Is that what it’s saying to you? Móni pulled her hands away and breathed heavy breaths from the tightness in her chest. Are you the Force just trying to manipulate me again? Her voice raised and instantly regretted it when the lasat’s ears drooped with distress.

I am here because of it. But everything I say comes from my consciousness.

So, what I’m seeing. What I’m feeling, Móni squeezed her hand, it’s all in my head.

Yes.

Will I be able to see you again?

No. The word was forced, cracked, and broken.

A sob broke from Móni and she embraced Ravi who tightly returned the action, I’m sorry, she cried loudly into her neck. I’m so sorry I broke our promise. I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to show you the galaxy. I’m sorry I couldn’t free you.

Ravi soothed the woman’s back with gentle circles, I’m not the one you need to forgive. You need to forgive yourself, my love. She pulled her away and cupped her face, I am free.

Those simple three words broke away the chains of guilt that had choked and bruised her for so many years. Her body was light, and it felt as if she was breathing life anew.

I love you. I always will.

And I love you.

Their lips touched, sweet and innocent, like the days they lied back on the rusted rooftops of Coruscant.

Hey, I’m as tall as you now! Móni laughed. Maybe a little taller.

You are! Ravi giggled with glee.

Their laughter faded as well as their surroundings.

Is this goodbye?

I’m afraid so.

Then… goodbye, Ravi. And thank you. For everything.

Goodbye, M óni. Take care.

Her image faded away and the warmth of her hands turned as cold as the bacta fluid.

Móni opened her eyes to an empty room, disappointed it wasn’t the jungles of her home planet with a lasat standing beneath its canopies.

Back in her quarters, groggy and disgusted from the layer of bacta on her healed skin even after scrubbing it red in the showers, she collapsed on her bed with a sigh of pleasure. Her heart ached still from the encounter, but there was peace that went along with it.

She checked her chronometer and saw it was half-past 2200, which was enough time to peruse through the HoloNet for something Maul could digest. Móni recounted Ravi’s impression of him and noted some approval from her. Being a part of the Force, it was possible she had knowledge of all his secrets and past, meaning she knew of his violent nature; something that clashed with the lasat’s kind one.

Strange.

Móni stopped scrolling at a recipe when she inwardly groaned at the conversation that would soon take place. But she wouldn’t dare go against Ravi’s wishes, even if it did come from the Force. If she believed it was right to share the most important and vulnerable part of herself to Maul, then so be it.

It was going to be one long night.

Betts rolled into the room to stop by the bed in complete silence.

Disturbed by the unusual demeanor of the mouthy droid, Móni put down the datapad.

“Everything alright?” Nothing. The woman tried again, “You didn’t get to the base through the rain, did you? I asked to have someone pick you up.”

“Rook returned me here and removed whatever they had implanted in me,” she said without snark.

“That’s good,” although droids carried no emotions for a Force-sensitive to feel, Móni knew Betts well enough that something was amiss. “Is that everything?”

“Did you want me to bring you food?”

“No, I’m going to make something for Maul later. You don’t have to be there to clean up. I can do it.”

What should have been a jovial response in her dead tone, Betts said nothing.

Móni sat up from lying on her stomach, “What is it?”

Her photoreceptors dialed open and closed until her vocabulator finally glowed with speech, “Something happened while we were on Reth Enterprise. It’s about the infochant.”

“Ah!” Móni smacked her head. “I totally forgot about that! Has Rook or Maul asked for it, yet?”

“Maul has,” she paused, “before we reached Druan’s mining station.”

“Oh. When I was asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Alright? But that’s what we were supposed to do. Did you do something that could upset Maul? Annoy a few employees while you scavenged for some parts for yourself?” she asked without concern.

“Móni, I spoke with the infochant. It’s Kyp.”

The room darkened and turned cold, or was it the blood running to the soles of her feet? If Kyp wasn’t a threat to Maul before, he was now, and there was no telling what he would choose to do despite keeping him alive to gain her favor.

She had already sworn her allegiance to him, making it all the more possible of him changing his mind and kill them all outright. But he knew better than to cross her, didn’t he? Móni could create a tidal wave of her presence throughout the galaxy to reach Palpatine and alert him of her location; crippling the Crimson Veil and everything he worked for. But Maul was conniving as he was intelligent and the two mixed together made for a deadly combo when one’s master was a trained Sith.

Móni extended her feelings for his presence which was mere meters away from her and immediately followed it to his quarters—down the hall from her own. She did not need to make herself known for the door whooshed open with the zabrak standing tall with a contortion of amusement on his tattooed features.

“I see the droid has updated you.”

She shoved him aside and stood in the middle of his unlit room, “What are you going to do?”

The door slid shut behind him and remained where he was, “You mean, what have I already done?”

Heavy breaths heaved from her rising chest and the Force trembled under her command, shaking the bare furnishings and walls.

“What did you do?” The familiar sensation of hot blood coursed through her body and felt capable of pinning Maul down in a fight. However, he hardly blinked with worry and calmly stepped into her space holding a holoprojector out to her.

“A gift,” he said. The amusement still danced on his lips from her show of Force against him, she felt.

The air stilled and she glanced between the holoprojector and him with unblinking suspicion, “I thought giving me a starship was strange, but this is pushing it.”

“Both are tools for your apprenticeship with me.”

“A holoprojector?”

“It’s not the device that matters, but who you are allowed to contact with it.”

When the meaning of his words dawned on her, her chest was near implosion from how fast her heart was beating.

“You mean…?” But it was too good to be true and she brought herself back from the slight euphoria. “What do you gain from this?”

“The theelin and his merry crew will be working directly under you and are expected to fulfill every request you command of them. All communications on this device are tracked and if I so much get a trace of any deceptions from you, know that every conversation you have with him is transcribed to my personal devices,” he took the liberty of taking her hand to put the device into it and she did her best to control the rising blush from the warmth seeping through his gloves. The sensation was short-lived as he removed himself as soon as it was placed. “Do not forget yourself, apprentice, and who you belong to.”

Móni’s fingers curled around the round mechanism, unable to hide her disbelief. “Can they continue as they were? Or, whatever they’ve been doing?”

“They cannot come here,” he said with finality and pointed at her hand with two fingers. “And that keeps the child from tracking us, as well. As for their continued business, the decision rests on you.”

“Okay,” there was a swirl of emotions inside her and she could not discern where it began or ended. But she could sense anger being the strongest one. Kyp had already been working his way into crime, given the type of people he had associated himself with, so it shouldn’t be much different from Maul. No. With her. She had control and she would not let Maul think otherwise. If there was anything she didn’t approve of Kyp doing, she can say whether he would do it or not.

As for the lack of trust, which seemed to be a constant issue no matter how many times they’ve gone over it, she did almost completely blow away her first official mission as an apprentice.

“Why do you keep helping me? You didn’t have to look into Druan or my past. Every time I struggle you are always there to pick up my mess. Why can’t you see me as the liability that I am? I don’t even try to cause problems, it’s just who I am. Always has been because,” the Force has no real hold over my actions or future, “I’m a disaster.”

“You are chaos incarnate,” his voice rumbled deep from his chest and it was not spoken unkindly. “You follow my teachings but also twist them into a way that suits yourself. Your way of the Force is unlike any Jedi or Sith and yet you use it aptly. You are overly emotional, quick to action, and take for granted the depths of your capabilities. It is possible you are a liability, given Master has been in search of you for some time, but I have seen your progression. You are not the same woman I met on the Abolition and there will be more to improve upon in the future, making you that much stronger.”

“So, you’ve thought it through already. Having me with you.”

“Yes,” a slight upturn of his nostril of a growing snarl cracked his smoothed features. “Although, there have been times I’ve wondered if you were worth my time.”

Móni broke out a laugh. Those words made more sense to her than the critique and overflow of appraisal he had given. “I’d be concerned if you didn’t. But,” she drawled, “you still didn’t really answer my question. What made you look into Druan and my past?”

There was a flash of disappointment as if he had hoped she had forgotten, which only deepened her intrigue. He looked away for a moment, in search of a response.

“I have never recalled helping you. Everything you’ve done was of your own volition and power.”

She tilted her head to the side at him with skepticism and chewed on her bottom lip, driving away the multitude of questions and accusations she was sure would set him off in a fiery rage.

He doesn’t want to admit he helped me.

Maul was not using it against her to showcase her ineptitude to fulfill her own trials without assistance, which only made it stranger. With narrowed eyes and a working jaw that was preparing her next choice of words carefully, she decided it best to leave it as is and spare him her torment. He deserved that much for allowing Kyp back into her life and explaining everything that it entailed. Things he could have kept to himself. She supposed he was learning it was better to be open than leaving her in the dark and recreate their explosive arguments.

“I guess, I’ll take that answer,” I’m gonna say it anyway, “even if it’s a bad one. Volition and power,” she muttered under her breath like it was a bad joke. His shoulder’s tensed with an arching spine and the corner of his lips twitched. But Móni didn’t give him a chance to unfurl his anger at her. She froze him where he stood when she held him with a gaze that did not reflect any mockery or insensitivity.

“Thank you.” The words poured out of her lips as smooth as water—pure and real. “It means a lot I can speak with Kyp again. More than you’ll ever know.” Even if his intentions weren’t benign, Móni would take what she could get from the brooding master.

A smirk found her lips at his mild shock and she flipped back her loose hair, “What time is it?”

The question drew him from his trance and the shadow of his furrowed brows returned. He glanced at his wrist panel, “2300.”

“The mess hall should be empty. Let’s go eat something. I’m starving,” she walked around him, then checked if he followed.

For the first time since she came in, she soaked in the room. It was as bare as hers, but the bed was littered with datapads. It struck her as odd how untouched it seemed; the sheets were flat and tucked in with but a small dent in its center, and there were no cushions. What struck most curious was the group of several cups on the side table.

“What was in those?” Maul was just making his way to follow, but it seemed the question cut him short. Concerned it would alter his mood and change his mind on the dinner, Móni retracted, “You don’t have to tell me. Let’s go, let’s go.”

His spine straightened with relief from having to answer and met her outside his quarters. He swept a chilling glance at her before making a head start towards their destination.

“You don’t have to act like I’m leading you to your doom. Unless you didn’t like what I made last time. I can make any necessary changes or requests if you’d like?” Móni said falling in step with him.

He was silent, holding his attention on the long corridor that would eventually lead them to the mess hall.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, she felt it best not to push him any further and risk upsetting him more than he already was. But that didn’t stop her from grinning either way.

-

In the mess hall, the apprentice was quick to get to work and grabbed a mess of items from the cooling chamber, setting them all on the island while Maul sat frustratingly at the counter. She began with prepping and slicing root vegetables, pantoran fungi, and apium with adept use of the blade. Each time the blade fell he envisioned her beheading the barabel without hesitation. She was more easily susceptible to anger than he thought and was only now discovering her trigger points: the threat to her life and those she cared for.

“Avin and I talked about growing some of our own things here,” she began casually. “I grew up on a planet with a similar environment and I know what can or can’t grow here.”

Without a second thought, he spilled out his curiosity, “What planet were you raised on?”

“Devaron.”

“They housed a Jedi Temple,” he spoke with a hint of suspicion he did not hide.

“My moms and I lived remotely from civilization. Coruscant was my first experience with urban living and culture.”

He said nothing, but her parents’ choice of living sparked certain questions, but not important enough for him to want to prattle on about.

“You are familiar with agriculture?”

“Yes,” she said as she poured pale yellow liquid from a cylinder into a pot set on a nanowave stove. “We grew our own produce, foraged for fruits and nuts, and hunted.”

“They purposely hid you away and made no contact with the outside world knowing what you are,” Maul surmised hoping to edge her into revealing that one part of her mystery to finally seize her where he needed her to be.

She paused after she threw in the sliced contents. “They didn’t understand what I was, which was why they hid me. But a certain part of them understood I was special, and they feared the Jedi taking me away.”

He leaned in, not understanding an important factor, “They would have sensed your explosive use of the Force.”

“We lived in the heart of the jungle which was the nesting place for most of the Force-sensitive creatures of the area,” she explained resuming to her tasks of stir-frying the pantoran fungi. “Their abundant life force hid me.”

The woman lived in solitude for most of her life and was later thrown into the most densely populated planet in the galaxy without any knowledge of what to expect. Her experience had him revisit parts of his own past he had forgotten, a past where he too lived in solitude on a molten planet that burned away all traces of life and turned the sky gray with its ashes.

“What planet are you from?” The question caught him off guard, for he did not know which answer to give. “You’re a zabrak, but your skin tone and markings are… unique.”

“Your amani friend knows,” he grunted, avoiding answering.

“That’s not a surprise. He knows almost everything. But I want to hear from you.”

His blood was boiling from her insistence and soft, pleading gaze, which only pushed him further away from the question and bit back at her, “You may send me whatever it is you need to begin the process of cultivation.”

The woman’s shoulders sagged along with her bright optimism for reasons he could not comprehend when he had accepted her request. But she said nothing more on the subject as she focused on implementing several oils into the fungi.

“I’ll let Avin know. It was his idea.”

Maul was familiar with the Mandalorian and his swaying emotions. The call for battle never rushed through his veins like his comrades and he had a habit of keeping his blaster holstered at his hip, preferring to use traps and explosives as his means. The man was peculiar but honest. He did not hide his dislike for him, which showed a measure of bravery he respected. It did not, however, excuse him from his weakness for when he disallowed himself from using his blaster he’s put at a disadvantage towards himself, his peers, and Crimson Veil as a whole.

The apprentice set herself on another task of boiling water and putting strings of uncooked grains that differed in color from the ones he had previously. He took a moment to reflect on himself from an odd sensation when he realized the thrum of anger had settled and the tension in his face eased from watching the apprentice bustle about with mundane actions and mundane movements. Her tresses remained loose and chaotic as the one who wears them, and he was mesmerized by their volume; how each curl bounced from every turn and step she took. There was a certain aura of tranquility he was experiencing, and its very sensation prickled his skin from its unfamiliarity, returning the tightness in his chest.

“If you keep staring at me like that anymore I may combust under the sheer intensity of it.”

That was enough to engulf his body in flames, extinguishing the brevity of peace and turning it into fury. “I’m not entirely against the notion.”

The apprentice knit her brows at him then waved a spoon at him, “What did I do? I’m literally just cooking. You got angry all on your own, for whatever reason.”

“A skill you need to learn if you are to master the Dark Side.”

“Don’t you get tired of it? Being angry and hating all the time?” she had begun to fill two bowls with the cooked, white strings of grain and broth.

The inflection in her voice was sincere, but the subject matter was what tightened the grip on his hands. “Never,” he bared his teeth at her. “Those feelings are my natural state of being as it should be for you,” he was unable to hold eye contact as he spoke from the pit of doubt that formed in his stomach. The times he had grown weary of it all were few and far between: once was with Master who drilled into him a fierce punishment without remorse, and the second occurred when he was his most vulnerable after the events on Naboo. He shut that part of himself away and remembered the creature who survived because of his teachings of the Dark Side, not the one who fell into despair because of it.

Her process slowed while she studied him but said nothing more on it and continued to garnish their meal. She placed a steaming bowl before him, and his senses sharpened at the allure of its scent and appearance. Everything was properly sectioned as before, although this time the grains were hidden beneath the legume sprouts, anselmi herbal leaves, a wedge from a Kashyyyk citrus, and a thick brown sauce artistically drizzled over it. He removed his gloves to feel its warmth through the bowl which he encompassed with both hands. The first sip left the same sensation in his body as before, only the taste was herbal with some spice that surprised him.

“Here,” he had not heard her take a seat beside him. “Squeeze the wedge over it. It’ll give it some zest,” she smiled with darkened cheeks, which he assumed was from the soup’s heat, as she performed the process she mentioned. He copied her actions and found the fruit eased the spice some. “What you think?”

Maul would have preferred if she hadn’t asked like last time, but he gave a nod and delved into it with a utensil in hand.

“Not too spicy for you?” He stopped chewing and gave her a pointed look; under the impression she was testing his capabilities. But she a huffed a curl from her face with a chuckle, “It’s a genuine question. Everyone has a different tolerance level for spices. It would help if I knew yours.”

He absently rubbed the rim as he thoroughly considered his answer with scrutiny, “It is acceptable.”

“But what would you prefer? More or less spice?”

A preference. Had he ever been asked that before? What he preferred? What he wanted? There wasn’t a time he didn’t have to fight and manipulate and assert dominance for his way. Even Mother gave him no other options in her plans to destroy Master, and Savage followed him without question.

He put more thought into the taste and grunted his answer, “Less.”

“Alright,” she beamed and shoveled down her own bowl with impressive speed.

After several bites in silence and the woman slurping her own concoction beside him, she was the first to break the true divide.

“I think you should start first,” she tapped her finger on the counter to expel her nerves, a fidgeting trait he was beginning to pick up from her. “I think I’ll be ready to share my own stuff after you. If that’s okay?”

A growl rumbled from his chest at the request which sounded more like a command. Maul set the bowl down with a little more force than necessary and breathed in deeply, finding the patience within himself to hold out a little longer to finally get to the center of it all.

Just a bit more.

“Do you remember when we retraced your trail from your three weeks in the jungle? And when I mentioned there is a shadow in your memories?” The apprentice took a moment to recollect what he meant and finally nodded. “Back in your quarters I mentioned a name to you that triggered a sort of,” he imagined the way her eyes rolled back, and her mouth fell open as if she were about to scream but never did, “panic attack. And when I asked you about it, you had no recollection of me mentioning the name or what happened.”

It did not take long for the pieces to slide into place to know who he was speaking of. There weren’t many people he knew by name in her life to make it impossible to narrow down.

“But how?” The panic was setting in and her breathing pattern changed. “When?”

Maul released the bowl and readied himself for what was to come. Her chest heaved and her body shook violently, then her bright eyes hid away to show the whites of them. It was no coincidence for the same reaction to happen twice, which only confirmed his suspicions.

He grasped her arms and shook her lightly, “Apprentice,” he spoke loud enough to break through her mental walls and pull her away from his master’s grasp. But, unlike last time, it didn’t work and alerted a cause for concern.

He pressed his lips together and remembered the time he called out to her while she dreamt with tears of pain.

“Durmónia,” her name rolled off his tongue and left his mouth feeling like soft clouds were trapped in it.

Her body froze and she blinked back the sunset in her eyes. During those seconds she took to shake off the delirium, he slid his hands off her skin and the sensation numbed him and clenched his lungs. Without any intent, his bare thumb brushed the beauty mark beneath her right bicep, and he released her soft skin altogether, quickly returning his hands to the confines of his gloves to dowse their heat and temper their shaking.

The woman’s focus returned to her surroundings and him before gripping her head in pain, “What a headache. What was it you said again? Think I may have missed it.”

“There is a shadow in your past you have no recollection of.”

“Oh,” she spoke with some doubt. “How can you be sure?”

“I have seen it,” Maul explained. “A dark fog without visuals or sound, and you harbor no feelings towards it as if it never existed.”

“Do you know anything more than that?”

He knew she was referring to his shock after she had awoken from the attack, a mistake on his part for being unable to hide his emotions from her; his concern, frustration, and… worry. He pretended they were all meant for him and what he could lose against his master, but his consciousness whispered in his ear that most of what he felt was for her.

“I cannot know for sure. Unless I can attempt to resurface those memories.”

“Can you?” she blinked with astonishment. “Are we capable of doing that? Altering memories or bringing them out?”

“In theory. I have never used the skill to such an extent before. But it may be worth looking into.”

“Why is this memory so important to you? I don’t think I care to know what it is.”

Maul chose his words with care to not create another episode she may not be able to come back from. There was the option of having her ride it through and see if she could break past the terror, but he also ran the risk of putting her mental state in danger; not knowing what exactly his master had done.

“Part of accepting the apprenticeship was to discover what you are, yes?”

“You think it may have something to do with it?”

“I believe it does.”

The woman searched his face as he did in turn to hers, waiting for the final answer. She was sensing for any deceit, he knew, but no matter how well he hid his intentions, the woman read him well. Too well. And it was unnerving. More so because he has been able to do the same with her.

“Why do you want to know about what I am? What do you gain from knowing?”

“To unlock your potential,” Maul spoke simply. “And make you what you are meant to be. Powerful.”

She looked down and away, finding interest in her empty bowl. Maul was overwhelmed with anxiety and misery, but what they turned into was what gripped him into stillness. The rage. He felt it. Blooming beautifully from her core and expanding outward. He rushed to think what he said that triggered it, grabbing any crumb he could get to comprehend the woman; however, it came to naught for he understood nothing.

The apprentice met his gaze with such ferocity she could have melted snow, but Maul did not bend under it and held it in and all its magnificence.

“Let’s go outside. I need some air. And,” she stood from the stool, “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

On their way out beneath the glittering, clear night sky and dew dipped plants from the rain, Móni asked Maul a peculiar question.

“What is the Force to you?”

“An energy of life that binds the galaxy, gifts us power, and directs us.”

“Do you think it had always been directing you? From conquering Mandalore, to the death of your brother, and finally creating Crimson Veil to one day destroy your master?”

The question didn’t affect Maul as much as the way she asked. Venom dripped from every word and her eyes burned a deeper shade that was akin to something more crimson.

“It is possible these events have been willed by the Force, but it does not keep me from completing my revenge against Master.”

“What if you’re not meant to kill him? What if the Force has something else planned for you?”

“What do you know?” Maul’s own anger aligned with hers and they were put in a deadlock, their fury aroused and spreading through their bodies and burning away the frigid air.

“No, I don’t know anything. I’d prefer to keep it that way if I had a choice. But it seems I have none.”

“What are you saying? Speak clearly, woman” he snarled.

Nothing could have prepared Maul for what she was about to tell him or the implications behind her words if they were indeed true. Their very meaning meant more than what he could ever have imagined and rather than his fervent question being answered, he was only left with more. Before him was a being that appeared human but carried the galaxy within her. And what he would never understand was his part in her destiny.

The apprentice. The woman. Durmónia was a wonder to behold.

-

Where do I begin? How?

From the beginning. Obviously.

“There was no father that impregnated my mother. I only asked her once about it and she didn’t give me a straight answer, nor did I understand what she meant. Then I asked if the Force was what provided me to her, but she shook her head at me and only said, ‘There are things in this universe that are beyond our understanding and sometimes it’s better to not ask questions and accept things as they are. You were a gift and one I will treasure always.’

“I can’t remember the first time I heard the whispers. They’ve always been there, maybe even the moment I was born. One day, when I was old enough to speak my thoughts, I asked what it was. ‘The life that binds the universe,’ it said. ‘We are the Force and you are destined for great things.’ It had spoken to me about the Chosen One who was to come, to remove the Jedi and Sith and bring balance to the galaxy, but they never mentioned what my purpose was. They often said I wasn’t ready until I was properly trained.

“The reason I am familiar with some fighting forms and Force techniques was because it would reveal memories of another’s life to me through visions or dreams. But mainly, it focused on teaching how to interact with the world around me through it.

“The night I lost Ravi… was when I swore I would never use it again and cut myself from it for good. I used drugs and alcohol to drown out their cries, slept around to remind myself of what warmth from another felt like, and it worked. I forgot it existed. The only time it showed itself to me was when Palpatine appeared. I continued my life, met Kyp, sobered up, played shockball to help with the recovery. Then I met you. The one who brought me back to the Force and all of my shavit destiny with it.”

Móni ran a hand down the twisting bark of a tall palm with leaves that could wrap her body whole. Its life ran through her fingers and the Force that was bound to it.

“I hate it,” she said softly, barely above a whisper. “I hate it so much,” her fingers clawed at the bark and tore a piece of it off and threw it aside. “If I had a choice, I would be living on Coruscant running my own restaurant and not giving a kriff about the wars and the Empire and the Jedi and the Sith. I don’t care and I never wanted to be a part of it. But it’s who I am and there’s no way around it. I don’t know what it is it wants me to do, but what I do know is that Palpatine is a threat to my life and those I love and I’m going to end it. End everything so I can be free of this cage.”

Her face was soaked with her tears and the skin under her fingernails bled. But she felt nothing but relief to finally have it all out in the open. It wasn’t the type of freedom she wanted, but there was a sense of liberation from being able to share her burdens with someone else. And it was uncanny that the person she shared it with was a fallen Sith. A former apprentice to the one person she feared the most. And someone she was forming an attachment with.

The moon’s pale light reflected off his crown of horns and made his eyes shimmer like pools of gold. Maul was mystified and in total awe of her, a reaction she did not expect but not altogether surprised. For non-Force sensitive beings like Ravi and her mothers, there was only so much they understood. To a Force-sensitive being, however, it was a completely different matter. Unfortunately, she cared little about what he thought and was simply drawn to his crimson skin laced with lovely black designs on his forehead, down his nose, cheeks, chin, and mouth.

There was no reason why she decided not to walk over when he wasn’t far from her, but it still seemed much too long a time to cross the distance. The Force gathered around her as she took a hop and hovered above the ground to reach him at an inhuman speed to embrace his rigid body tightly. His scent was intoxicating and painful as it reminded her of Devaron, breaking a sob from her lips.

“Thank you for hearing me.”

Ravi was right. But she always was.

Chapter Text

With her feet resting on the control panel of her ship, the blue and white streaks of hyperspace shooting past the viewport, Móni was relaxed into her seat with a projection of Kyp in full display from the holoprojector Maul had given her several months ago.

“You should have seen the look on her face!” Móni boomed. “When I had her watch all her spice burn right before her eyes, I’ve never seen anyone in such shock in all my life.”

Kyp laughed with her as well, “Did she pass out? It was hard to tell with all her cronies surrounding you and her.”

“She did! No one knew what to do. Everyone was staring at me like I could find them a new job in spice trade,” she wiped a happy tear from her eye. “That was glorious.”

“Wait, so, how did you find her stash again? Your commlink went offline before I had the chance to track you.”

“That was Betts’ doing,” Móni patted the nicely waxed droid who was at the pilot’s controls. “She decided to take a detour to salvage some parts for herself and ended up in the room. She didn’t even notice, as usual.”

“Did you really not notice? It’s giant crates with the Pyke’s symbol on them.”

“I wasn’t looking for the spice, you guys were,” Betts said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Oh and,” Kyp added, still holding his grin, “I sent our results to the Pyke Syndicate. They’re pleased to have one less person infiltrating their shipments.”

“Thanks. I hate talking to them.”

“I know you do,” the teen chuckled.

“How’s the crew doing?” Móni inspected the three scratches on her shoulder from the shistavanen leader who clawed at her.

“Oh, you know,” Kyp performed some sequences on his armrest’s control panel. “Shysha is always annoyed at how dirty the ship is, when it’s always the cleanest I’ve ever seen it. Granny does her best to take care of me, but she’s been spending more time sewing while watching holovids. And Zione is,” he turned sullen. “He’s not happy. He really hates Maul.”

“I don’t blame him,” she picked on the hem of her shirt that was frayed and ripped. “He’s sent me on questionable tasks. And done some on his own.”

“Zione is aware,” Kyp spoke in a whisper. “And of some of the stuff you’ve done.”

“Is that why he won’t talk to me?”

“Pretty much.”

“Do you know what I’ve done?”

“I have some ideas without Zione having to tell me anything.”

“Like?”

The half theelin swallowed hard and contorted his mouth, “There was something about a business tycoon you killed while,” he faded unable to finish.

“While the wife was in the room?”

“Yes,” he gave her a dubious one over. “You don’t regret it.”

“She didn’t, so why should I?”

“What do you mean?”

“I was actually supposed to kill him and the wife, but what Vos didn’t know was she hated the man with a passion. I offered her her life if she ran her dead husband’s company under the guise of being in league with the Empire but keep her loyalty to Crimson Veil.”

“Why didn’t we know about that?” Kyp was astonished. “I mean, uh…”

“Why you weren’t able to find any records of it in your slicing escapades?” Móni rested her chin on her palm enjoying the teen’s internal battle. “I told Maul in person about what happened, and he advised me to tell her to hire someone else to run the company while she orchestrates everything in the background.”

“Oh,” he was impressed. “I can see why you don’t hate him. He lets you do what you want and works around it.”

Móni set her focus on the array of stars sweeping past, breathing in deeply from the sheer thought of him, “Sometimes I feel things would be so much easier if I did hate him.”

Kyp’s eyes gleamed at an opportunity and he heaved in a breath of excitement but was cut off from conveying what he had been desperately trying to find the courage to ask.

“So, how’s Qar-Tan?” the woman put on some heavy inflection in her tone.

“What do you mean?” he cleared his throat and adjusted his hoverchair awkwardly.

“I mean has anything progressed between the two of you?”

“No,” Kyp heaved a disgruntled sigh. “Zione is always nearby. Hovering.”

“Why not when he’s asleep?”

“Qar-Tan has sneaked in a few times, but it’s like he sleeps with one eye open. He knows everything that goes on around here. It’s annoying.”

“That sucks. I’d suggest to just keep trying. He has to slip at least once.”

“That’s what we’re hoping for,” Kyp rolled his eyes at the inevitable inconvenience, but dropped the subject to turn it on his best friend, “And you?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m asking. You and Maul.”

Móni shrugged her shoulders and wiped a bit of spice dust she hadn’t noticed before off her chest, “He trains me and I cook for him here and there, which has actually turned into our briefing sessions. And that about sums it up.”

“You’re so boring.”

“There’s nothing to tell. He has a syndicate to run and I’m his apprentice.”

“But you like him so much,” he murmured under his breath.

Her pulse quickened at the very mention of her feelings and she ran a hand across her taut hair to settle her raging nerves. “And that’s all it will ever be. It’s never going to go beyond the two of us knowing and hopefully… it’ll die off.”

“But why? Even I can tell this is something completely different than what you felt for Dad.”

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so observant.”

“Someone has to be,” he scoffed. “Who else is going to help Maul keep you in line?”

“Baelis?”

The cockpit groaned in unison, including Betts.

“He’s worse than Zione. And he thinks he’s better than me, which aggravates me more.”

The ship jumped out of hyperspace and floating in the void of space was massive green sphere Móni had learned to call home.

“Times up, champ. Gotta meet the big guy now.”

“Alright. Talk to you later, then,” Móni was about to sever the transmission, but he hurried in something else on his mind. “And I’ll try talking to Zione again. He’ll come around, eventually. I’m sure he will.”

“You can certainly try,” Móni huffed then left her and Betts alone in the ship.

As Betts navigated the ship through D’Qar’s atmosphere, Móni bumped her head against the headrest several times to drive out the rush in her veins and memories of the night she poured her soul to him. She could still feel his racing hearts beat against her chest and the body she held in her arms, which was akin to holding a statue.

Móni wiped the reverie off her face and stilled her emotions, keeping them safe and hidden from the Lord and Master himself as they landed on the outskirts of their base. The sun was at its peak and the humidity stuck to her skin from the night’s rainfall. She gathered the Force around her and rose several meters off the ground, reaching just about the height of the tallest tree, overseeing the vast jungles that formed the planet, and the waterfalls and cliffs that gave it character. She lifted Betts alongside her who stared blankly out over the lush landscape.

The warm winds rushed past her body as she soared through clear blue skies to the base, a solitary being of red and black awaiting her down below. She checked her feelings thrice over before she was prepared to gently land before him.

“Hey!” she put her hands to her hips.

Maul ignored the droid who rolled passed and neither scowled nor flexed his anger at her overflow of excitement. He was calm with the regular hum of anger pulsating through him which she sought comfort in from their time together.

“Return here once you’ve eaten.”

“I’ll be quick. Did you want anything?”

After he had shaken his head, she snuck a glance over her shoulder at his straightened back before proceeding to the mess hall, taking with her an image of his perfect form before the backdrop of sunlight and vivid foliage against his rather dark appearance.

Móni and Maul sat crossed-legged across from one another, their world shut away and connected with the Force.

The whispers were soft and did not raise at Móni as she consciously kept them at bay while she focused on sorting and realigning her emotions; reflecting on every action and every decision she made, and what their effects on her were. There was that long-awaited peace she had been searching for with nothing but herself to focus on instead of the Force screaming their wills at her.

An image broke through the meditation, but she suppressed it, not wanting to have anything to do with what it wanted to show her. When she thought she had it controlled her mind shattered with the image of a dark planet surrounded by clouds of red gas and stardust, and a horrific scream of the Rogue Jedi vibrated her skull and pierced her ears as if he was beside her. The screams morphed from one voice into many and they died into the ashes that fell around her creating a black sea of the dead’s remains. She sunk into the cinders of stars and below her was the spiraling galaxy glittering with nebulas, dust, debris, suns, and planets. And she hung above its center. Alone.

She gasped and breathed fast and anchored onto Maul’s presence to remind herself she had returned to reality.

Maul observed her with curiosity and mild concern in his forehead, “Were you unable to maintain the Force?”

Móni shook her head, “It was worse,” she rubbed her temples with her palms from the mild ache forming. “Instead of trying to call out to me, it decided to force me to see visions.”

“Have you received visions from the Force before?”

“Not often. It’s actually rare. It can’t really give me visions of my future since it has no real grasp over my decisions and fate. But I think…,” she scratched her head to put what she did understand into words. “It’s trying to guide me down the path it wants me to go. I’m not sure. But what it just showed me I’ve seen some of it before.”

“Tell me,” he placed his hands over his cybernetic legs and his undivided attention sent shivers down her spine, but that was all Móni allowed her body to react to.

“Often, in my dreams, there is a rain of ash and each speck holds a life that screams in pain. The other one was new. It was me above our galaxy and there was that feeling of loneliness like in the vision you shared with me when I was a child spinning up into the atmosphere,” she stopped and waited for his questions and cool responses. Instead, there was a spike of irritation in his quirked brow and twitching lip.

“There is more,” he rumbled from his chest.

“Uh,” Móni picked on a blade of grass and tore into pieces, “no.”

“Apprentice,” he spoke her title baring his teeth. “If this is something that will weigh on your thoughts and cause distraction then I suggest you speak. Preferably now.”

“I’ve barely thought about it since the last time it happened. It’s not a big deal. Ominous, but nothing important,” she hoped she sounded convincing, but unfortunately Maul was proficient at detecting her weaknesses.

“You are frightened of it and having it occur a second time has made you submissive to that fear,” he straightened his back further and clenched his metal knees, “You are still incapable of taking control of your own emotions which will become your undoing in the future.”

“I’ve been okay so far.”

“Against thugs and lesser beings,” he snapped. “But against Master and his apprentice, you will surely die by their hands. Not once have you used the Dark Side to propel your abilities and instead use what you were taught as a child.”

“I’ve done it once or twice,” Móni stated meekly, then cursed under her breath when that one time linked to the vision with the dark planet. “Are you saying the Force taught me incorrectly?” she switched tactics fast and purposely mocked him to focus his annoyance on her.

He made a subtle roll of his eyes and ignored the attempted diversion, “And when was this?”

“Oh,” Móni was affronted. “Now I’m not telling you since you clearly don’t believe I’m capable of it.”

There was a strange quirk to his lips that he withheld and a glint of humor, but it was all suppressed in an instant to display a stone exterior.

“If you are as capable as you say, then why have you not applied the skill since the said time?”

“I don’t feel it’s always necessary,” she shrugged. “I used it because I had to.”

A shadow crossed over his crimson face, “There is no choice in this matter nor is there a halfway point in the use of the Dark and Light Side. If you don’t fully embrace my teachings, then you will never excel and defeat Master.”

“Yes, I know,” Móni waved a lazy hand at him. “You keep telling me, but what if that’s not (I can’t believe I’m saying this) the way for me. I’m not,” she lightly struck the ground with her knuckles and heaved a sigh, “I’m not normal.”

Maul’s posture loosened some and the lines of anger between his brows smoothed.

“No. You are exceptional.” He looked hard at the dirt and weeds beneath his crossed cybernetics, then darted a gaze at her beneath his lashes, “Shall I make an attempt to go through the blocked memory again?”

Móni inclined her head in question, “You mean that thing you mentioned about it probably being a link to what I am?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t mind, but,” her brows furrowed at him, “what did you mean by again?”

There was a sharp yellow flash of alarm, but it was contained as soon as it came, “I refer to the few times I perused your thoughts at the start of your apprenticeship.”

She leaned back onto her hands and soaked in the golden rays streaming through the leaves and branches high above, “It’s been almost two years hasn’t it?”

Of completing missions, training, and discovering and understanding herself. And two years of hiding her feelings; the one thing she would have liked a Jedi to train her on, and from the self-taught attempts found respect for the dead Order because it was a rather complex skill.

“Can’t remember the last time you did that, and I forgot how dirt tastes like,” she laughed.

“I can remind you again if it will loosen your tongue about that vision.”

“Augh! It’s impossible to distract you.”

“And it is impossible to make you follow my commands the way a good apprentice should.”

“But I’m not a good apprentice. I’m the greatest,” she barked a laugh at herself.

“A controversial declaration.”

No anger charged the air nor was there a threatening tension of the Force. Of course, Maul had his usual tinge of aggravation, but even the soft winds blew it away leaving them in a peaceful silence that had developed comfortably over the months. When he caught her staring at the black markings that dripped down his lower lip to his chin, imagining it against the pads of her fingers, she steeled her nerves and held her breath to stop the blood rushing to her face.

When his wrist panel blinked, she released a steady stream of air and thanked the Force for stopping yet another awkward situation.

“Yes?”

“My Lord,” Rook’s clear and stern voice cut through. “Something urgent has come up that is need of your attention.”

“I will see you in the briefing room,” he ended the transmission and rose from the ground. “Will you be joining?”

“Nah. I think I’ve tortured Rook enough. Tell me about it tonight, then?” she hopped up and met him at eye level.

There was that defeatist fall in his shoulders every time she asked, and every time he gave in with a small nod. But he turned fast with two fingers pointed at her.

“And we will resume this conversation.”

“Yes, sir,” she pouted with a slump.

Finally alone, Móni fell back to the earth and covered her face.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.

-

The months after the apprentice’s confession, Maul had taken his time to unravel everything he could from her. What the Force taught her, showed her, what she heard and felt. She would describe what she could in detail, but it seemed there was only so much she understood. It was apparent her hatred for the Force dissuaded her from venturing any further beyond what she experienced, thus creating a larger shroud of mystery.

“The Force speaks to you?”

“Yes.”

“How is that possible? We are taught we lose ourselves when we die and become one with it.”

“They are all of one mentality, like a hivemind. But some individuality is retained in their consciousness still. Some stronger than others. Like,” she drifted into silence before resuming with a shaky breath. “Like Ravi who I think maintained her will all these years to speak to me one last time. But she said I was the only one capable of speaking to those who became one with the Force.”

Maul stroked his chin with intrigue, “That is an incredible asset to have.” Then the possibilities of such power boiled in his core and he was instantly mesmerized, “You have all the knowledge in the galaxy in your grasp.”

“If I was able to transfer this ability to you, I would in a heartbeat,” her anger flared and lashed freely at him. Since that night, she had not shied away from exposing her anger in hot waves, and some were large enough to ripple the air and shake the trees. It pleased him to feel such strength but infuriated him when it was only ever in short bursts. The woman never maintained it and refused to do so.

“Why have you not taken advantage of its gifts if it speaks to you regularly?”

“Because I don’t want it speaking to me!” she swiped her arm at him to display in action her want to be rid of the Force. “It’s so loud, like every being who has died since the galaxy’s conception are speaking to me at once and in every language known and lost to us. I can’t meditate. I can’t think. I can’t dream. It’s always there, whispering,” she held her head from the recollection and the dismay and panic made her eyes wild.

“Is this why you do not meditate correctly?”

“Yes.”

“Then that is what we will begin with.”

“How?”

“You will learn to shut out every outside influence, including the Force. The point of meditating is not only to balance our emotions but to connect with the Force; our guide and tool. However, you are naturally connected to it, but not with yourself. And I will teach you how.”

Her meditative trance has lasted longer than whence she began, but she continued to struggle with her internal conflict with the Force. It was insistent on speaking with her and he could only imagine for what purpose. Once she mastered meditation, he was going to have a long discussion about opening herself to the most powerful entity in existence. This rebellion of hers would have to end eventually, but for now, he was determined to complete the mastery of her battle capabilities, which included lightsaber training, defensive and offensive use of the Force, and… flight.

“Too slow,” Maul criticized.

He and the apprentice had spent hours lifting her off the ground, each time at greater heights, but her execution lagged, and it would not do in the midst of battle or if she needed to flee for her life. And as the rotation went on, so did her energy.

She plopped on the ground and hung her head between her knees, “This is exhausting!”

“It shouldn’t be. At least, not for you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He tapped a finger to his lips and recorded her techniques in his head for the hundredth time in the hopes he could discover a single flaw in his teachings and her form.

“We once spoke about how the Force is used, among regular Force-sensitive beings,” he concluded as an afterthought with a better understanding of what she was. “You were ignorant of it being harnessed with emotions, so explain to me how you use it.”

The apprentice sat in a more comfortable position on the dirt and looked to the sky in thought, “The time I fought Mayishka, the Force spoke to me and said to use what I had within me.”

At this, Maul recounted the times he found it strange when he felt nothing from the Force when she would expel its power. At least one mystery had been solved.

“Was this how you shattered the Dimachaeri’s stuncuffs?”

“Yes.”

He also noted the damage it caused to her hands, surmising a theory that her current physicality was unable to harness the power stored within her and needed to be used sparingly for her body to catch up.

“Do not use this internal source of power to accelerate your motion. Gather the Force as you have been doing and allow it to propel you.”

She sneered at that and flexed her anger at him, “I’d rather not, thanks.”

“Is this in relation to your childhood trauma?” he spoke with little care for the damage the experience inflicted upon her.

“It’s not every day when you experience firsthand the Force actually trying to kill you by lifting you off into space.”

“It was probably trying to enforce a lesson into you.”

“It’s never done it that way before.”

Maul stopped pacing and was struck with curiosity, “How did you return?”

“Oh,” she blinked several times for the memory. “What Momma told me was, they found me floating several feet above the ground, my body extended like I was lying on an invisible platform, and unconscious.”

“The Force returned you.”

“Guess so,” she muttered.

“It may have been testing you. It may not have,” Maul stood before her crouched form. “Regardless of what its purpose was, it seems to me your Force is as allusive as my own understanding of it. What was it your mother said? ‘…sometimes it’s better to not ask questions and accept things as they are.’”

Her expression softened while her focus misted over with something far away, then she stood at eye level with him and received the brunt of her temper.

“Accepting things as they are means following the Force blindly and I won’t do that.”

“Then use it,” there was a slight shrug in his shoulders as he spoke simply. “Use the gifts it had bestowed upon you to alter your own fate rather than follow it.”

“Careful not to say it any louder in case it’ll hear,” she cupped her mouth and whispered.

Unamused, he continued to get through the woman’s stubbornness, “If the Force has no hold over your fate and actions, so you say, then what is stopping you from using it for yourself?”

She put her weight onto one leg and then the other, her shifting emotions matching her unease. Then her brows furrowed in confusion which she rubbed away with her hands several times. When she found his eyes again, he found conflict in hers.

“It feels wrong. I’m bound by a sense of duty towards it, even though I hate it. Nothing makes sense,” she groaned into her hands.

“Because you are a part of it. More so than any living being in this galaxy,” his faded words drifted in the breeze when a strange idea contorted his train of thought.

Is she fully human?

The woman certainly appeared to be and there were no other attributes to point to her being a near-human. Her origin was another mystery and one that may never be solved as her mother was the only one who carried that truth to her grave.

The other mother. How did she pass? He believed, by intuition alone, she was the key to many things concerning the apprentice. Even in death. But those were questions for another time. For now, she needed to fly as fast as a speeder bike.

“To not use the Force is to deny who you are. But if you wish to be more than what the Force wants you to be, then prove it.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but she found her resolve and attempted his method. And the skies belonged to her.

Every time she flew, her consciousness of using the Force grew smaller. If she continued at that rate, her command of it would be as simple as breathing. And every day she grew stronger, closing the gap between her abilities and his own. Maul should be threatened by the notion of her surpassing him, for in the natural order of the Rule of Two the apprentice would dominate the master and take their place; thus, continuing the cycle. But she was not a Sith, no matter how much effort he put in stoking her rage, she was as fixated as a deeply rooted tree and never submitted to the Dark Side. And he knew, now, it was because of what she was; whatever that may be. And…

And… When and how she had gotten his good graces, he refused to remember. He had purged every feeling from the memory and left himself with fragments and lingering scents of earth and spices. Even as he strode to the briefing room to meet with his commander and lieutenant, it traveled with him, forever haunting him.

When he stepped into the room, it was already illuminated with a red glow from the holomap of planet Gigor, and a full-body hologram of Dryden Vos.

“My Lord,” he bowed his head.

Maul approached the holotable where Rook and Saxon stood across from, “What is it?”

“It’s the zygerrians, my Lord,” Rook changed the holodisplay to a zygerrian female wearing fine clothing of her wealth and status. “They have made preparations earlier than anticipated to acquire the assets.”

“What pushed her,” Maul turned to Vos, his fingers twitched at the ready to sever his air.

The near-human broke a small sweat and gained some composure, “Dignitary Reesta D’Veen had gotten word from an inside source within Imperial Command that they plan on making course to the planet and seize the gigoran’s territories for resources. I’m afraid there was nothing I could do or say to push back her efforts.”

“The Pykes?”

“The Pykes,” Saxon replied this time, “Sealed the deal with Reesta and paid for gigoran slaves in their Kessel mines.”

“And the Black Suns?”

“They know nothing,” Rook responded. “They still expect a gigoran labor force to restructure the Andelm beetle mines.”

“This is going to be tough,” Gar scratched his blonde head, “If only the Empire didn’t enslave the entire wookiee race for their own labor.”

“Other unions and corporations have also turned an eye at Gigor because of the Imperial enslavement of the wookiees and how difficult it is to get their hands on even a handful,” Vos added. “If we’re going to act, we need to act now else Reesta will take all the good gigorans she can for herself and sell them as high as a wookiee in the market, which the Black Suns will refuse to pay, forcing us to look elsewhere for good labor.”

Halfway through, Maul drowned out Vos’ voice and worked his strategy, “Say nothing to the Pykes about our intervention,” he looked to his Mandalorians. “Prepare your men for the following rotation. We will make our way to Gigor and take what beasts we can before the Imperials and D’Veen reach the planet.” He looked to Vos, “Do you have any notion of when the Imperials will make their entrance?”

“Very soon. I’d say within the week.”

“Do you know D’Veen’s inside source?”

“I do.”

“Give them whatever they ask for and have them tell D’Veen the wrong departure date. The last thing we need is two factions getting in our way.”

“It is done, My Lord,” he bowed. “Is there anything else you require of me?”

“Keep an eye on the slaver and keep in contact with the Imperial traitor. There can be no mistakes,” Maul directed his murderous intentions at Vos, and the well-dressed man adjusted his head with discomfort as if his high collar was fit too tight around his throat. He bowed once more and cut the transmission.

“Will you be joining us?” Rook took into consideration what she needed to prepare.

“Yes. We may be too late for the Imperial occupation, but we will take any time given to us to put the slavers at a small disadvantage and make the Andelm mines as operational as possible,” he stopped to consider another factor for the operation and added, much to the commander’s disapproval, “I will travel with my apprentice. And if you could provide her any spare armor—specifically a helmet.”

Maul sat in his quarters concentrating on the haven he and his apprentice had created for themselves within the base. He felt through the Force for the dwindling presence of the warriors who were finishing engorging themselves with the apprentice’s meal. When the last being trickled out, he rose and left not a moment later.

The apprentice had an empty dish before her within minutes after its preparation, the opposite of Maul who paced himself. He was halfway through the bowl of short-grains mixed with an assortment of beans varying in shades of red and yellow, topped with a cool whip of fermented milk and garnished with anethi. The spices and herbs were explosions of flavor in his mouth and he savored every bite of it.  

“So, we’re leaving tomorrow morning?” she asked after he had finished explaining the briefing.

“Yes,” as he chewed, they locked eyes, both reading the other without a word passing between them. There was a slight upturn of her full eyebrows and a frown in her usually smirking lips, “What is it?”

“Why can’t you hire more workers rather than forcibly take the gigoran from their homes?”

“We cannot have a large force that can attract the Empire’s attention, and the gigorans are the easiest and fastest way to achieve what we need without needing to accommodate so many.”

“You’re forcing them into slavery. No better than what the Empire is doing to the wookiees.”

“This is a crime syndicate, not a charity. Strength and dominance are what is needed to combat and cripple the Empire,” Maul set his meal down, forgetting the irresistible taste of it. “And we haven’t the luxury to settle any treaties or diplomacy with them when Imperial fleets are making a race for Gigor as well. This matter needs to be settled as swiftly as possible before they arrive. And the fastest approach is to simply take them.”

She deflated, unable to counter with an argument she knew she had no power to win against. This wasn’t the first time she had questioned his methods and certainly not the last. A certain part of him withered from her lack of approvals, when as the leader and lord of several syndicates—rising above the main heads who lead them—there shouldn’t be an ounce of care toward her opinions. And yet, time and time again, she proved him wrong by fulfilling the intent of all his wishes without sacrificing her moral codes. The woman had no issue with killing, but she judged for herself who deserved death or life; always finding an alternative that wouldn’t undermine his authority while also satisfying her own beliefs. Taking her with him on this venture could aid or hurt him, seeing clearly something was bound to incite another one of her unruly impulses. But her power was a necessity, especially against an army.

“So,” she brokered the silence that fell between them, “if we’re going to possibly be meeting with Imperial soldiers, are you sure you want me to come? Seeing they may have an image of me from the time I fought with them on the Abolition.”

“Rook should be providing you some armor.”

“Did she miss me at the briefing?” Her good humor returned, and Maul eased the grip on his bowl and returned to finishing what was left in it. “She say anything about me tagging along?”

“No,” he recalled the stern woman’s contortions of disgust when he mentioned the apprentice. “But she seemed excited by the prospect of you two working together.”

“That’s a lie!” she roared with laughter. “I’ve never been with her on the field,” she rested her cheek on her fist when she gasped, “She needs to follow my orders doesn’t she?”

There was some wicked delight that gleamed from her lovely eyes, shifting a small fraction of his face muscles to an easing smirk that had nothing to hide and showed exactly what it was.

“In a manner of speaking.”

A mischievous series of chuckles erupted from her as she took away their empty dishes, “Excellent.”

As his purpose and time with the woman were fulfilled, he rose to make himself scarce from the calm and pleasant atmosphere he allowed to linger when they were together. It was during those moments he desperately sought solace to recover his anger in full strength again.

“Did you want me to make you tea?” she spoke softly, her voice trailing down his spine. But it also provoked a low growl as he bared his teeth at her.

“No.”

“Are you still mad about me having Betts sneak into your room?” she slapped her hands against the sides of her thighs. “You didn’t want to tell me what was in those cups, so I figured it out myself. What’s the problem?”

“You are,” he gnashed at her.

“No, duh,” she countered. “And yet here we are. Still your apprentice,” she grinned at him. And when his frustration worsened it only made it wider. “You’re not going to get a wink of sleep tonight, at least let me make you some to help keep you awake.”

There it was again. The benevolence that rode on every word and struck him numb. There had been no one in his life who spoke to him the way she did. It was as if she treated him like an…

Like an equal. A friend. But they were not friends. They were master and apprentice, and she was his weapon of destruction. While he deliberated a response, she quickly maneuvered through the kitchen to flash boil the water and prep the kaalee leaves that grew from the evergreen shrubs of the region of the same name on Concordia. As someone who appreciated privacy, her obvious disrespect for it sent him into a spiraling fit of fury, but the moment she set the cup down before him and the aromatic steam wafted his senses, it dissipated.

He took the beverage without looking up, not needing to see her smugness when he felt it quite clearly and left.

With an empty cup placed on a datapad on the bed, Maul was asleep on his side with unrest moving beneath his eyelids. He clenched the sheets he never used, and his breathing hitched the same time his shoulders tensed. And in slumber, he muttered a frantic ‘no’…

Maul held Savage’s thin hand when the Nightsisters green magic left his body in smoke and for the first time, he saw what he truly was: neither Sith nor apprentice, but a brother who wasn’t meant for the life he led. A life Maul and the Nightsisters chose for him. Then his vision erupted in blue lightning, scorching his skin and convulsing his muscles, and his screams drowned out Master’s pleased laughter from his suffering.

He writhed on the ground with disgrace before the only being he hated and respected the most.

He swore he would never feel helpless in front of Master again.

Then the smell of burnt clothes and skin drifted away, and he was out in the jungles of D’Qar with the apprentice standing before him with wet cheeks and tousled hair.

For as long as Maul shall live, he would never forget how the chilling winds ceased and the scent of dew mixed with earth filled his senses with a slight taste of sweet spices on his tongue. Her body was as warm as the sun and the skin of her arms against his neck was as smooth as water. Gently stroking his cheek were her wild curls which he was astonished at their softness. The heartbeat against his chest and into his veins drowned out the words she spoke, but her hot breath tickled his ear and sent a shiver down his spine. The experience turned his body into stone, unable to react, move, think, or even breathe at the woman’s contact; all he did was felt. And he felt heavy. The weight of the new emotions was unyielding and he had no way to channel any of it--no way to control it.

Maul awoke with a start, knocking over the datapad and cup to the ground, and was disoriented from the apprentice’s scent that remained in the air. When he cleared the fog of dream and reality, he rolled onto his back and blocked his eyes with his arm, controlling the erratic hearts that didn’t cease after the dream.  

Thankfully. Thankfully… the apprentice removed herself within seconds and stalked off into the night without a glance back or a word and left him without anything to help recover from whatever he was given. Even his metal joints were stiff and enforced the disarray of his state of mind or lack thereof.

With a grunt, Maul crossed his cybernetics and called for the thrum of anger to pulse through his body. There had never been a time he couldn’t call upon the Dark Side, it was there at his every whim no matter the time or place. But ever since that night he struggled. He struggled to let go of her warmth and smell and touch. The rage was being pushed away into something else entirely and the hate… the hate had completely vanished.

A snarl broke out from his own confusion and naivety, and slowly it returned. He grasped onto those feelings, his life, and yanked them out until his vision was clouded with rage.

I hated how she felt. I hated how she smelled. I hated how she tasted. I hated how she looked underneath the moonlit sky.

He repeated over and over to himself. A new mantra that sustained him until he was convinced of their truth.

Then he was struck with something very important he had forgotten; an essential part of her apprenticeship with a Sith master. He had been so focused on her hatred and drawing it out, against him if necessary, he had lost sight of himself.

The master, not once, had ever hated the apprentice.

Chapter Text

Móni swiveled from left to right with her newly worn steel toe snow boots while she stared at the Mandalorian helmet in her hands, tracing the lines of black paint that resembled Maul’s own markings over a quickly painted crimson hue that covered most of its silver sheen. It was repurposed to fit her head and much slimmer than the ones the original users wore to differentiate her status amongst them. She peeked a glance at the being in the pilot seat whom the markings were meant to resemble and gave herself an internal nod at the accurate artistry. Her fingers rose to the small peaks of horns that weren’t in the exact count to the ones on Maul’s own head, but it reflected enough who their leader was. As she ran her hand over the lovely curves and angles again a daydream of his flesh rubbing against her skin morphed in her vision and she shut it down the moment it occurred. Those were dangerous thoughts when he was sitting right beside her. She glanced at him once more and noted no difference in his exterior; he was in the same position of deep thought as he had been for the past hour or two.

To keep her mind elsewhere she focused on the true meaning of the helmet she held.

At a field lined with crops from shades of green to purple, Móni checked the droids who tended to them, reading over the itinerary and steps she had installed into them to continue without surveillance for several weeks. If it wasn’t her checking it was Avin, as they took turns to make any necessary adjustments when either was a on a mission. This time, both were being sent away to the same mission and everything had to be ensured during their time away on Gigor.

In a muddier plot that sat several layers above the mainland uphill, she checked the color for the lush clumps of green blades equally dispersed into lovely rows and columns. She stood up, satisfied at the freshly grown-in grains that would soon grace their tables.

“Looking good?” Avin approached from behind with two helmets under his arms.

“Didn’t know you carried spare helmets. Thought every piece was something passed down by the generations,” Móni eyed her friend. The labor put into plowing the fields, finding droids and proper machinery to maintain them, and creating a filtration system that came from a nearby river to water the plants periodically—Avin had become someone irreplaceable in her life, and a voice who wasn’t always ready to charge at her with anger nor someone she needed to hide any part of herself from.

“A second layer of skin, yes,” he faltered a grin that did not touch his deep blues. He hesitated with a helmet that was held upside down with fabric folded inside and held it before her looking away.

“This is a warrior’s helmet,” she studied the care that was put into its waxed finish and sharpened horns. “I was kinda expecting something less traditional.”

“It’s for you. I mean. I can’t have it anymore. It’s meant to be in battle not sitting in my quarters and pouring memories into me.”

Móni inclined her head at it when it struck who the owner of the helmet was, “I can’t take that. It means too much to you.”

“I shouldn’t have taken it in the first place,” Avin raised his voice, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. But at himself. Spiraling winds of heartache and damage reached out to her and she rested her hands on the cool metal. “It should have been left with his corpse. His armor intact while his body degraded in the field of battle. Somewhere on Zanbar,” he stuttered a breath and shoved it in her hands. “I did some work on it to fit your head and made it more form-fitting, so it’ll be more in proportion with your body without the armor and yeah,” he spoke in one breath then exhaled a quaking one.

She touched the thick, gray fabric inside and stroked its base, feeling the thin grooves of paint that adorned it. “And how did you get my head measurements?”

“Betts.”

“I swear that droid,” she huffed. “She may get me killed one day. She’ll give anyone any information they ask for.”

“But you’re the only one she listens to,” he tried a laugh, but it died on his lips.

Móni considered the young man who put noticeable effort in reconstructing his former lover’s armor piece to fit and protect someone else he cared for. And she couldn’t be too sure but letting go could have been part of his healing process to overcome the loss. She had to go through a process of her own months ago and a part of her still is.

“No way to change your mind?”

“Absolutely not. It’s no longer his anymore. It only fits you now.”

The Mandalorian equipment she received was the one-piece liner they usually wore beneath their plates of armor, but what she specifically had on was lined with quilted thermal fabric to combat cold weather. It was formfitting and comfortable and allowed enough room for maneuverability. They certainly weren’t the greatest warriors in the galaxy for nothing—their equipment was nothing to scoff at. Maul wore his own winter garb, his trench coat hanging off the chair and a slim, quilted top that covered his neck. His cybernetic half was exposed past the knee as usual and she silently wondered about the metal freezing from the cold. She lingered on the contrast between his crimson skin popping against the lighter set of clothing; how different he appeared without the drab and monotonous colors.

She rubbed her thighs to ease the fast pulse in her veins, “So!” she broke the silence to keep her mouth running over her racing thoughts, “I’ve never seen snow before.”

Maul darted a glare from being interrupted, but regarded her with mild interest, “That is not surprising.”

“Have you?”

He flicked a glance at the rushing stars before he returned to her, “I was given conditional training once on an ice-based planet. Many years ago,” he spoke as if the experience were but a dream itself. “And was assigned a task on another.”

Móni narrowed her eyes with suspicion, “Was that what that really was when you had me stay in the jungle for three weeks? A sort of conditional training you had to do as well?”

“Yes,” he spoke with some strain Móni had only ever heard when it involved Palpatine. “For one month I struggled against famine and droids Master set against me,” then the weight lifted off his shoulders when he fully considered her. “You did not struggle as much as I did.”

“Well,” she was taken aback by the genuine compliment, “You didn’t have droids go after me.”

“You were being hunted and carried around a liability.”

“Avin wasn’t a liability.”

Maul disregarded her opinion with a low hum behind his throat, “You are a survivor, apprentice. And talented.”

Usually, she would struggle to calm her nerves when Maul showered her with appraisal or even a simple nod at her efforts. They were directed at her abilities and her own show of strength, but her ability to survive was not her own.

He felt the dark clouds loom over her and stared at her expectantly. With patience. She shut her eyes away from the calm expression that sent her heart fluttering and leaned back against the seat, facing forward.

“I have a theory,” she licked her lips. “I don’t try to survive. It just happens. There have been so many opportunities for my death. So many times I,” she never spoke of this particular subject to anyone, but neither had she considered it in months, “wanted to kill myself, but never could. The Force has kept me from dying. I truly believe that.”

“A boon.”

“Or a curse.”

He hummed his sentiments then inclined his head, “Why did you feel your life was not worth living anymore?”

Móni shrugged and twirled a strand curl with a finger, “I blamed myself for Ravi’s death. There are things I’ve done I’m not proud of and they haunt me still. The visions terrorize my life as does the Force. And I don’t want to be a part of whatever game it wants me to play in. My life puts others in danger. And,” she struggled with her next words, “it was hard to feel. Anything. My tears were dry. Screaming wasn’t enough to release this weight inside me. There was this emptiness that could only be released with pain. And even the pain wasn’t enough.”

“But,” Maul didn’t seem convinced, “if you were to die you would become one with the Force and you truly wouldn’t be able to escape it. Living with the very thing you hate.”

Her finger stopped twirling and raised her brows at him, “That’s a thought I haven’t considered.” She reflected on the image with horror.  

“You have been better,” there was a smoothness to his tone. Almost kind, but it prickled a bit as if the words left a strange taste on his tongue. He also refused to meet her eyes and focused hard on the nothing before him.

“Yeah,” she nodded. He was a tough teacher with rigorous methods that left her sore for days, but he never gave her time to think of anything other than her possibilities. Her talents. Always asking questions. Inquiring about the Force from her childhood. Small fragments of memories she had forgotten resurfaced and she remembered the little girl who loved nature, the galaxy, and the Force all at once. That child had become a stranger for many years, and she was learning from her again.

“You’re partly to blame for the recovery, by the way.”

“What?”

But she swerved out of the response when they exited hyperspace to a gray and white planet, “There it is!” She jumped out of her seat and around her starship several starfighters jumped to their position, and one gunship to carry their new passengers back to Andelm IV. “What’s snow like?” she held her breath for any description her master could give.

“Cold,” was his dry response before he entered a transmission on the control panel that connected to Rook. “Prepare for immediate landing,” he said simply before ending it as abruptly. He steered the ship behind Rook’s black and gold gauntlet starfighter while the other gray and gold starfighters formed a formation around them and veered into the planet’s atmosphere.

Móni leaned over the control panel to inspect the bleached world below. The sun reflected off the white plains and hills, and the black mountains’ steeples draped with frost. Rolling waves of azure waters mirrored the empty sky they flew in—not a gray cloud in sight—and she wanted to soar through it to feel what cold winds felt like against her face.

She spotted a herd of creatures with large humps beneath their brown pelts, long faces, and curved horns running as one unit through a valley with a river and a steaming pond surrounded by massive stones.

“What are those?” she pointed at the beasts.

Maul barely motioned a glance at what she meant, “Jakobeast.”

“Jakobeast,” she felt the name out for herself. She pressed a hand against the glass and the cold seeped through her skin. “You weren’t kidding about your detailed description,” she snorted.

“Wait until we land. It is all the description you need,” he prepared for a landing procedure and waved a hand at her for a switch her pelvis was pressed against.

Her body moved away by instinctual command, not breaking away from the unpainted canvas, “Beautiful,” she murmured at its splendor.

Far to the east were dotted triangles and squares of the gigoran settlements they planned to ransack, and the silver scenery suddenly lost its sheen.

The Mandalorians did not waste a beat when they landed at the foot of a mountain facing east. Rook and Saxon rounded up their men around a projection of the hilly landscape they were in with Maul standing at their core, coat flapping in the frigid winds and goggles hung around his neck. He bore an impenetrable stance that blocked the cold and commanded his legion, unlike the apprentice who preferred to stand in the outer circle alongside Avin and Myn with chattering teeth. 

“This is horrible,” Móni put the helmet over her head to warm her poor face. “I miss the sun already.”

“The sun is right there,” Myn adjusted the gray and white marbled cape that draped over his shoulders, “Is it not good enough for you?”

“It’s not doing anything, so no,” she sniffed back her runny nose.

“Once you start moving around, you’d wish you had everything off,” Avin was adjusting some settings on his vambrace. “Battling in these things can be a pain sometimes.”

Móni’s gloved hands were tucked into her armpits and she moved her legs to get some warm blood flowing, “I don’t even want to think about removing a single thing.”

If Maul’s features didn’t stand out before, his crimson pigments were bright against the scenery like an exotic flower that bloomed alone in a tundra of white. He was quiet as Rook and Saxon explained their current objective in more detail, zooming into the holomap on some crevices, birch trees, and hills that surrounded the gigoran settlement. But his glance slid to her, aware of Móni’s exact location from the intensity of her stare even when covered by a visor, and she allowed the heat to warm her face and looked down—thankful for the helmet.

In their discussion, his clear voice rumbled over the muffled tones behind steel helmets, “The apprentice will accompany you,” he beckoned her forward with two fingers without looking her away and she did as he commanded as did the bodies who parted for her to come near. “Create a perimeter to keep any from escaping,” he continued. “Be mindful not to be seen and keep behind cover. There is plenty for you to blend into.” He checked his chronometer and then the sky. Móni followed his line of sight at the sun, which was coloring the sky with hues of purple and orange. “By nightfall, we strike.”

Rook and Móni led a group of five on speeder bikes behind high hills and away from the small fleet miles away. They stopped at the foot of one where Rook hopped off without awaiting a command. She left footprints deep in the snow as she trekked towards the summit with Móni following close behind. Their stomachs were flat against the crushed ice as Rook overlooked the horizon with microbinoculars over her visor.

Móni smoothed the snow some with her hands as she awaited any word from the commander, intrigued by its hard and powdery texture that did not do its soft-like appearance justice. There was a scratch in her scalp, but when she went for it was reminded of the steel bucket covering her head. “What do you guys do when you have a major itch? Must take a lot of discipline to ignore it,” she pushed the helmet down and rubbed it against her head to try to reach it. It didn’t do much. She hung her head in frustration and struck a small pile of snow that stuck to her visor when she raised her head. “Oh great,” then wiped the ice away to a commander who gave a stare colder than the blasted planet.

“There are at least 60 people living there, including females and children. You think you have the stomach to take them in as well?”

“As long as you don’t kill them, which defeats the purpose of this whole thing if we do.”

The commander grasped Móni’s bicep, “Don’t think I won’t keep my eye on you. If you so much as sabotage anything in any way, I will shoot you down myself. Apprentice or not. You may have charmed Lord Maul, but not us. We see you for what you are. A problem.”

Her iron hold was nothing compared to how Maul would grasp her jaw and bruise her skin, nor was her strength anything compared to her own, but Móni allowed the woman her time of superiority for she found the situation much too amusing to stop it, “Does everyone share that same sentiment or just you and Baelis?”

“A lot of us do,” she seethed and shoved her away.

“Maul cares about your opinion of me,” Móni halted her, “I personally don’t. But if there’s one thing we can agree on, if either of us decides to turn their back on him, someone is going to pay.”

The older woman huffed with indignation and hopped and slid down the slope.

Rook understood her place, Móni knew, but it didn’t mean every decision she made would be accepted without question. Every time she returned with news of divergence from Crimson Veil’s original plans Rook was always there behind Maul, imagining putting a bolt between her eyes. Some days she felt it among the Mandalorians, the teetering boundaries of mistrust and reliance on an outsider whose abilities were beyond their understanding; especially that of flight without the need of a jetpack.

"You may have charmed Lord Maul…," was what she said. 

Móni chuckled at that.

Who charmed who?

A party of four buried electro-shock prods 900 meters apart and deep in the snow, while Avin synced each one to his vambrace and tested the connection of his own modified invention. Rook followed with a holomap and guided where they needed to be placed, stopping every now and again with microbinoculars facing the settlement. As the sun receded further behind the distant mountains, the winds turned sharp and Móni shivered from the small tinge of cold through the fabric. It insulated her heat well enough, but she figured it was her inexperience with the terrain that was ailing her, and it was going to take some time to get used to the absence of humidity, heat, and rain.

They’ve neared completing the circumference when there was a vibration in the Force. Several life forms were moving sporadically meters away and were inching closer to their vicinity.

“Stop,” Móni commanded, facing the direction where the odd sources were coming from.

“We can’t stop,” Rook was ready to fight against having to obey any direct orders, but Móni ignored the sharp tone.

“Check if you see anything beyond those hills and trees over there,” she pointed. “There’s something heading our way.”

With a huff, Rook yanked out the microbinoculars, “I don’t see anything.”

Glad for the helmet to cover her eye roll, Móni marched to the party, “Take the speeder bikes behind that hill and stay covered until they’re a safe distance away.”

“We’re almost done,” the commander stood her ground, “Even if there were something out there, we don’t have the time to wait for it. It’s probably a native creature coming around.”

“Ten minutes,” Móni held her hands up. “If there’s nothing here within that time then we can keep moving. But what I feel is something large and something sentient.”

The heat of her annoyance practically sizzled off her steel plates, but she clicked her tongue and turned her head sharply as she waved a dismissive hand to her men to do as Móni ordered.

Rook did not look away from the chronometer installed into her vambrace, her finger tapping away the seconds until she could get a move on. Avin, however, brought down his rangefinder and searched for anything in the direction Móni had pointed to earlier, his body flexed and ready for battle.

Móni closed her eyes and felt for their life again, one large body and three of smaller size dancing around each other with fear and panic.

“They stopped,” she murmured.

With a scoff, Rook stood up, “Then let’s go-,” she was snatched back down by a fierce grip she had no strength to get free of.

“They’re moving fast towards us.”

“She’s right,” Avin lifted his rangefinder. “It’s an icetromper being hunted by three gigorans. Although, it looks like the hunters are the ones being hunted.”  

With a final jerk of her arm away from Móni (who had already loosened their hold) Rook surmised the situation herself. “Let’s finish what we can and let them battle amongst themselves. If they come near us, we’ll dispose of them.”

“No,” her tone halted the other members from rising, except Avin who awaited her orders alone. “If we kill them there will be a search party that will disperse the settlers into various locations to look for them, ruining our chances of getting them all in one sweep at a single location. And it would also alert them of some other danger when they see blaster burns instead of claw marks that killed their kin.”

“Do you suggest we wait, then?” Rook’s fingers were itching for her blaster, ready to kill her on the spot. “If that thing kills them there’s going to be a search party anyways.”

Móni reflected on the commander’s tone, who was ready to battle. Rook understood her and their group’s capabilities to finish their trap and rendezvous to the main camp with enough time to finish their job without the gigorans noticing a thing. But as someone who was raised by a skilled hunter and animals, Móni understood if the gigoran hunters did not return after sundown Crimson Veil was going to get into more trouble than what they asked for. The whole settlement would be on alert for anything prowling around their camps.

“They’re getting pretty close,” Avin reported.

“Give me a vibroblade,” Móni held her hand out.

“You have a lightsaber,” Rook bent forward, ready to shove her out of the way. “And what are you planning?”

“I’m going to help them and keep them away from here. And I don’t want to threaten them with something they’re not familiar with.”

“Are you crazy?” she spat. “Why in the galaxy would you help them?”

“Just give me the vibroblade, finish the perimeter, and get back to the fleet. Tell Maul if you have to.”

“He won’t be pleased with this, Ma’am,” she meant to say as a warning, but Móni did not miss the subtle hint of gratification.

“When was the last time he was pleased about something?” Móni wiggled her fingers at the commander again. “Are we talking about the same crime lord?”

Rook slumped her shoulders and motioned her head at the warrior beside her.

“I expect that back, Ma’am,” he said when Móni took hold of his vibroblade.

“Sure thing,” then proceeded to crawl out into the darkening plains, while the male Mandalorian grumbled a few colorful words about his missing weapon behind her.

Avin patted her back, “See you later,” then followed his company which Rook led away the moment Móni shuffled out of cover.

It only took a few minutes of stomping through the unleveled terrain to hear the growls of a beast. In the dim orange glow of the setting sun, three bodies with long, thick fur that matched their planet and shadowed black eyes that stood out against it. Their thick and tall forms sprinted with hunting spears in hand from a massive and bloodied beast with tusks and red eyes. Its snout flared and steamed with anger at the hunters who were crying out in their native tongue.

Móni huffed a breath and gripped the vibroblade.

Remember to slow your prey down before going in for the kill, Mama’s voice rung in her ears. Don’t be hasty.

On her toes she moved with the stark winds that propelled her speed at the icetromper. When the gigorans noticed a figure running at them, they waved their arms away and shouted at her. But she did not stop and pushed her legs further, her thighs burning from the impeding layer of snow she was not used to going against.

They stopped with arms extended to hold her back, but she ran through, knocking one down, and was within a straight shot of the beast who did not cease at its new foe. It brought its head down, ready to plunge an ivory tusk into her flesh, which did not faze Móni for she kept going until her proximity was close enough to smell its blood and earthy musk off its gray bristles. It heaved its head with a downward motion and when it lifted to catch her in the ribs, she slipped between its tusks and put a hand on its snout to boost her body over its head and slid down its glistening hump. She grasped its tail and her feet slid on the ground as it thrashed and spun to break her hold, but it was not enough to weaken her strength nor relinquish her aim. With another jolt of its body, Móni was flung to its rear leg and she powered the vibroblade and severed a tendon. The icetromper faltered and fell with a squealing cry and Móni did the same with its other hind leg.

It dug its working front legs into the snow, squealing at the pain and frustration of being slow and close to death. She blocked its emotions and steeled her mind, for it was not her call to save the poor creature. Nor was it her hunt.

The three gigorans returned with shaking spears pointed at the icetromper then at her. Móni sheathed the blade and held her hands up.

“The kill is yours isn’t it?”

They shared their apprehension amongst themselves, their round black noses twitching and their tongues licking over their fangs. One shook their main of fur and raised the spear at the beast, but it bucked its massive head back and dragged its body closer with provocation.

Móni dropped her arms at the hunters’ bright, silky hairs and thin bodies which did not compare to the massive weight she’s seen in images of their race.

They’re just a bunch of kids.

“Wait. I can help,” she stepped forward. They raised their spears at her, shifting their attention between her and the thrashing beast. “Let me show you where to strike.”

After a silent exchange, they nodded.

Móni jumped before the icetromper, grasped its tusks, and pinned its head on its side. It squealed and kicked, but it could not lift its skull from her secure grasp.

“Two of you, hold onto its legs while one pierces it. Right in the armpit and straight to the heart.”

They blinked at her instructions and scrambled over to execute what she suggested. One of them approached too quickly and was cut in the arm by a sharp hoof.

“Careful now. Take your time. I can hold onto this guy as long as need be.”

It took several leaps and slipping grasps and scratches, but eventually, two of them gathered the beast’s legs firmly under their arms while the other went into a trained stance to make a precise pierce into its side. The icetromper’s life rumbled then faded under Móni’s touch; its soul taken to the Force.

The gigorans leaped and whooped at their victory and hugged one another. One went for Móni and pulled her off the ground with its leather-like palms. It spoke its language quickly while it tugged her arm toward the direction of their settlement.

“Oh, no. I can’t. I need to get back to…,” she bit her lip from saying too much. “I have something that needs to get done. This was just a onetime thing.”

 It waved its hand at the darkened sky and motioned its pinched fingers towards its mouth.

“You want to invite me for a meal?”

At her correct assumption, it yanked at her to follow and rolled its tongue over another set of words.

“Great. Um,” Maul didn’t need her for the attack, she knew. In fact, she could see him being quite pleased with her taking the opportunity to “infiltrate” their homes and help with the abduction from the inside. And the critters seemed quite adamant about taking her in, thinking she was in danger of being left alone at night. “Yeah, alright,” she gave in with a tightness in her chest she feared would complicate things in the future.

The hike across the plains with a six-ton creature was no easy exploit. But the young gigoran’s natural strength mixed with Móni’s was enough to speed up the process and reach their home in under an hour. As she expected, standing with glowlamps at their gates were a group of adult gigorans who ran to their young ones and embraced them tightly into their heaps of fur. They spoke fast, and several times in the conversation fingers were pointed and heads tilted her way.  

A rather wide and enormous gigoran who possibly stood taller than Zione, approached her and rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. Hot air steamed out of his nostrils and mouth when he spoke in his tongue and opened his chest at her, gesturing her welcome inside their settlement.

Móni broke into a cold sweat and swallowed a hard lump in her throat.

This is a mistake.

Astonished of their abundance in technology, Móni studied their simplistic use of it for doors, lighting, and agriculture. Even their homes were built with a mixture of reinforced steel and stones, and their interior was decorated from the ceilings to the floor with the soft hides of animals Móni was unfamiliar with, and it kept the homes in constant heat from the frigid outdoors. She was offered herbal tea and salted meat, and a multitude of questions on their origins and make bloomed in her mind, but guilt trapped her words and she made no effort to pry. Anytime now, Maul and the Crimson Veil would reign upon their peace. Móni only needed to sit in their circle of mealtime for a few minutes to understand their close familial culture and love that warmed their homes better than the pelts that littered the place.

She flicked her gaze at several massive packs that held bedrolls, blankets, tent kits, and ammo for rotary blaster canons that leaned against them. Móni swallowed the berry-infused tea and wondered about their battle capabilities. The abduction may turn out to be more difficult than anyone would have thought.

The male who welcomed her earlier wore a translating vocoder mask to translate his rough speech, “Thank you for helping our sons.”

“No problem,” Móni cleared her throat and underwent a minor self-reflection Maul taught her to do when there was no time to meditate. She sifted through her fear and anxiety and pressed down on them, finding another source to pull her feelings from: curiosity and nostalgia. “Was this their first time hunting?”

“It was their first time hunting on their own. Were they as awful as their wounds were?”

“One of them had good form and listened well. The others,” she raised her brows at their abrasive nature, “need some help with fighting under pressure.”

His booming laughter was felt under her legs, “You are well trained for one so young. Who taught you how to hunt?”

“My mother was a devaronian hunter.”

“Ah,” he mused. “A dying tradition among their people. Even rarer for a female to take on the mantle.”

“You sure know your stuff. A hunting fanatic?”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked with a smile in his round eyes. “We’ve had several male devaronians come to our cities and make trade with us. They like to talk and boast.”

“Sounds like them,” she smoothed a thumb over the rim of her wooden cup in thought. “Are your females also taught your hunting traditions?”

He nodded his head with a hum, “They are actually better at tracking than us males. But don’t tell them I said that.”

“Not to worry. I wouldn’t think of shattering your pride,” she forced a smile and considered how hard the females would fight for their young; even more ferocious than a heard of icetrompers.

The male slapped a hand against her back with a guffaw. The impact would have forced a normal human to the ground, but for her, it felt a little more than a shove. “My name is Si’hen of Clan Nebak. And what shall I name our guest?”

Her lips pressed together to sound the first letter of her name, but the whispers came. Small and chittering, they swarmed her ears at once and she was only able to make out these few words:

Not use name.

“Boudika,” another name spilled out of her mouth. One she hadn’t uttered since she was a child.

Why is it protecting me? Apprehension filled her chest and tightened her throat. How long has it been? Shouldn’t Maul have attacked by now? Out of the singular window in the stone hut was a clear night sky that sparkled brightly.

Something is wrong.

“Boudika?” Si’hen repeated her name, unaware of the panic settling into his guest. “I feel as if I’ve come across that name before.”

Móni didn’t hear him. But she felt something. Something piercing the atmosphere and coming right towards them.

A siren rang outside and alerted everyone in the room. Si’hen stood fast in attention, all goodwill evaporated and turned into hardened emotions of steel that was prepared for any onslaught. Móni’s heart leaped into her mouth at the inevitable circumstances and gripped the lightsaber at her side as she followed the family out.

But it was not the Crimson Veil who made their appearance.

Blocking the moon and casting a shadow over the ice planet was an Imperial Star Destroyer that deployed ITTs from its hull and dropped five miles away from Móni’s current location.

“Imperials!” Many shouted and carried from person to person, making known to everyone who had finally infiltrated their skies.

“They’re attacking the other settlement,” Si’hen exited his home with a blaster cannon in hand and a bandolier strapped with ammunition across his wide torso. Several gathered around him with the same equipment, ready for the oncoming battle. “I was wondering when these faceless tyrants would show.”

Nearly every gigoran was at the ready to help without delay. They mounted domesticated jakobeasts and bellowed a fog of their war cry into the air. The same teen gigoran who persuaded Móni to follow his brothers spoke in his tongue while pointing a finger at her then to the ground.

Her breath was shallow and her teachings to quell her fierce emotions were long forgotten. Móni swallowed a warning to the back of her tongue of the perimeter meant to keep them in place, then was alerted by a familiar presence on its outskirts. Several of them. Surrounding the settlement.

It’s them.

Like assassins prowling in the night, Mandalorians avoided the light cast by hanging blogging-oil lamps and illuminators as they tread in the shadows of the rounded homes. In pairs of two, they entered the homes of those who remained, and the loud grunts and stifled cries did not reach the roaring shouts of their kin heading towards a trap.

When they neared the perimeter four-meter spikes rose out of the snow and an electrical fence formed before them, stunning the forerunners who did not react in time to stop themselves. Before anyone could turn to grasp their situation, bodies flew above Móni with blue flames spurting out of the gleaming warriors’ jetpacks and fired rings from their blaster’s stun settings.

Many slumped in their saddles or fell off without the chance to raise their canons at their unknown foe. But Si’hen dodged a blue ring and aimed his canon at one of her own. It took little effort for Móni to pull the canon out of his clutches with the Force and he was stunned by the one he aimed at. Before he faded in unconsciousness, a singular pebbled eyed found her unaffected by the rain of warriors who landed alongside her. Her chest constricted tightly, and she had never felt so cold under his knowing gaze until that moment.

When the Mandalorian who stunned Si’hen turned, Móni wanted to gouge her own eyes out for not letting the gigoran have his way with Baelis. He neither inclined his head nor gave his thanks for his life and shoved his plated shoulder against her raw one as he went past.

The gunship landed outside the perimeter and the Mandalorians made quick work with cuffing and hauling the gigorans onto repulsorlift stretchers and into the ship. Saxon stood on a hill to keep watch of the settlement and Imperials below, blasters fire echoed in the distance along with red and white flashes coloring the black backdrop and above the hills’ peaks.

Slow and methodical steps crunched from behind and stopped at her side.

“Prepare to depart.” There was a tightness in Maul’s throat as he spoke with some restraint. His carnal fury was burning the side of her body he stood by.

The Imperial Star Destroyer released another ITT and was headed in their direction.

“You plan on trapping them in here?” Móni rolled his fury off her shoulders and considered the irises that no longer shined with gold, but darkened red with blood.

“And disposing of them all,” his teeth ground with a tight jaw and refused to look her way.

He was irritated, but whether it was against her she couldn’t be too sure. If Móni was surprised by the Imperial’s early arrival, then Maul must have been livid by the very notion of something, yet again, going awry and instead of his way. But what could have also ignited him was her hesitation. There was no doubt he did not miss the seconds that took too long to disarm Si’hen or how she stood idly by while his men… their men rounded up the gigorans. Maul took a sharp inhale, his attention never leaving the Imperial Destroyer and his grip behind his back tightened.

It was the sound and tumultuous vibrations in the air that pulled Móni away from her master and at the bow-shaped specks swarming out of the ship.

Móni stared hard at her feet standing in a footprint thrice her size in length and width. Words were thrown back and forth behind her; Rook’s voice being one along with Saxon's and the tumble of Maul’s mixed in.

The grip on Avin’s modified helmet tightened under her arm, the steel straining under her strength. She looked up again and counted the growing specks that would eventually find their hidden ships and blast away any means to leave the planet. Her jaw set in determination before fitting the helmet over her head.

“Maul,” she called under her breath to catch his attention alone. His spine straightened at his name and stood before her; his rage pulsating the air as he awaited her words with brows casting a shadow over his crumpled features. “I’ll deal with the TIE fighters and that Destroyer.”

The lines of tension eased allowing his lovely pools of gold to be shone more, but whatever loosened his firm lips and jaw was immediately masked with a sneer when he caught wind of something radical behind her dark visor. “Speak your thoughts.”

“This is what you have me for, isn’t it? My purpose? To unleash my might against the Empire.”

Maul searched for her eyes with an unreadable focus and a small contortion at the corner of his mouth. He inhaled deeply, puffing out his chest, and regarded her with an intense stare that understood her better than anyone she knew. Even Kyp.

“What are you conspiring, apprentice?” he growled from deep within his core.

“I’ll get rid of these guys if you promise not to treat the gigorans as slaves, but as workers. You have more than enough means to provide pay and basic necessities for them to live independently and work under you.”

As she spoke, a new face morphed his features and one Móni should have been mindful of. But she was too cold, too caught up in her own past since she reacquainted her lips with a name long forgotten which included her skilled hunter of a mother, and Si’hen exposing her distrust.

Maul’s brows raised, but not in the delightful way that smoothed his lines. His eyes gleamed red with death, and his mouth opened to bare all his teeth as if ready to bite down on an artery to end her life for good. He could thrash at her, Force choke her or run her through with his lightsaber. But he was running out of time and needed to decide fast else there was going to be a battle they may not come out of alive on his hands.

-

There was a sting in the helix of his left ear which Maul promptly removed the metal stud that was there. He had not forgotten his time when dealing with such frigid climates, but some minor details had been overlooked.

As he surveyed the rolling landscape below where his apprentice was hidden with Rook, a slight chill reached his abdomen and he selected a setting on his belt that ran a warm current into his cybernetics and melted the snow beneath his feet. He lifted his joints for good measure and broke any building frost; a new hindrance to adapt to, but not one he could change no matter the amount of fury and odium he fed himself with. They only granted him his life, but not his other half.

When her glimmering aura of excitement diffused at the winter wonder, Maul felt the complications that would arise. He had not forgotten the apprentice was a former slave who freed those who shared her past more than once and much to his commander’s disapproval (along with a few others). These actions were viewed as disrespectful, rebellious, and tactful, leaving a sour aftertaste in their mouths they knew better than to comment on. But Rook’s emotions flared every moment the apprentice was near and when she is briefed of an “abrupt change of plans” which eventually became a mutual code for the apprentice doing as she pleased.

They had their opinions, and he was not one to dissuade them for the apprentice needed to build her own respect amongst them without his help. Nor did he much care for personal grievances. As long they returned with results he did not protest. And neither have disappointed him. Not even the apprentice.

Yet.

From where he stood, miles away from her location, he breathed in the sharp winds along with the faint quiver of her discordant emotions. Soon she would learn. In the same way she learned how to control her feelings and abilities, to meditate, and to use the Force without restraint; she would learn what it meant to be his apprentice and all that came with it. She would adapt.

She must. There are lives riding on her survival now. He considered with some satisfaction. She knew of his intentions on keeping the theelin and his crew alive, and he himself knew it didn’t matter to her what they were. So long as she had them by her side.

And her smiles hardly faltered since.

Maul blocked her outstretched lips, darkened cheeks, and crescent eyes every time he gave her his approval. It was beyond his understanding why it mattered so much. Savage grunted his acceptance to have done something right and he felt no satisfaction when Master was pleased with his efforts—they were never enough.

Her insufferable laughter rung in his head already expectant of what she would say:“What are you mad about now?”

Behind the helmet, her physical emotions were hidden, but her prickling thorns of disquiet as she sped away clung to him still. The faintest gleam of concern for her endless merriment beat hard in his chest.

Would this be what breaks her? Testing her mettle with his brutality?

Crunched snow broke his thoughts and made its way up the summit where Saxon awaited his attention, which Maul gave by showing his profile.

“Commander Rook and the others are heading back,” he paused with a slight tremor of fear in the air around him.

“And?” Maul curled his lips back at the unnecessary suspense.

“Well, Móni isn’t with them.”

At this, he turned fast to fully address his lieutenant but was interrupted by a blinking light on his wrist panel. He gave a stern glance at the rigid warrior before accepting the transmission of a small-scale hologram form of Dryden Vos.

“My Lord,” he spoke in haste and without his usually poised introductions. “The Imperials are on their way as we speak. They caught wind of D’Veen’s mole and killed him.”

Frustrating as the news was, it did not deter him. The Imperials were methodical, swift, and precise with their actions, like their Emperor.

“Do they know of your involvement?”

“No, my Lord,” he said with confidence. “As of now, they’ve sent several Secutor-class Destroyers to drop troops and take over settlements which will be immediately followed by a blockade.”

Saxon was across from Maul, listening to every word. Below he caught movement from the speeder bikes making their way to the fleet and waved down his commander who jetpacked to their location.

“Will that be all?”

“One more thing,” his determination stuttered, “One Destroyer will be at a neighboring settlement near the one you are at.”

Maul severed the transmission and faced Saxon and Rook, “We will remain with the plan and go to the settlement at nightfall. There is still some time before the Imperials enact their blockade.”

“Will we be attacking as soon as we are able?” Rook squared her shoulders; her body aching for blood.

He scanned the blue and glimmering fields from the fading sun, “No,” he drew out long and shrewdly. “The gigorans are social creatures who are well suited for battle. They would not sit idly by and watch their own be overrun by Imperials.” He drew in a breath, a smile curling its way upward, “We will wait for the Imperials and allow them the illusion of saving their lot. Then we will strike when their backs are turned. It will also avoid a strewn out battle that would catch the Imperial’s attention.”

Rook nodded her head and started her way down.

“Commander Kast,” Maul called to her with expectance. “Is there something you should be telling me?”

There was some tension in her shoulders before she turned with a stiff spine, “We ran into some gigorans who were running along the perimeter we were working on and Móni made the decision to help them with their hunt and keep them off our trail. We should be expecting her back soon.”

There was bitterness in her final words, but that was the least of his concern. His gut clenched at the decision; peaceful, diplomatic, and clever. As a trained hunter herself, the race’s culture wasn’t completely elusive to her own upbringing.

Still…

There was no point deliberating it. She made her choice and would have to adjust to whatever consequences that would befall her on her own.

He trusted her to see his vision through as she had always done.  

When he returned to his troop, securing their gear and giving the speeder bikes a final calibration, her name rode softly to his ears. Maul tracked its source to his slicer and intermittent strategist, Baelis, who was adjusting his vambrace and tuning the weapons hidden in their armor with several others.

“It was a mistake to bring her,” he said in his one key tone.

“I wouldn’t say a mistake,” noted another. A female. “But definitely be prepared for a surprise.”

Another spoke, “Could be entertaining.”

“Or,” Baelis cut in. Sharp and clean, “this is where she falters and dooms us all.”

“Dooms herself, more like,” the female added. “Heard she didn’t come back to stick with the gigorans.”

“Probably plotting their escape,” Baelis’ tone turned deep and dangerous. “The woman’s charms are a ruse to fool us all. And Lord Maul is not immune to it either.”

The female snorted, “That’s because she flirts with him.”

Her companion scoffed with amusement, “With him? No way.”

But Baelis did not find the theory amusing at all. He tightened his vambrace with an aggressive tug and gripped the throttle of his speeder bike as if it were her life he was severing.

“She is a lowbred harpy who allured our Lord with her witty tongue and power and physique. My only wish is I fire a stray bolt in her head.”

Maul did not take a breath to think upon his actions nor did he remember what had transpired in the time it took to raise his hand and bring forth the squabbling warrior to his mercy. The Force submitted to his will around the man’s neck, but his chokes and gasps at his feet weren’t enough. He wanted to hear bones snap and blood ooze from his body. In his haze, he pushed the thrashing body deeper into the snow and when he felt just seconds of its life remaining, he released his hold.

The men were still. All visors on their Lord and their gasping comrade who was buried inches deep in a self-made grave.

When the haze faded and the heat of his boiling blood simmered, Maul’s fingers twitched at his side and he felt his face muscles constricted in an open and feral snarl. He tasted their fear. Their respect.

But not for the apprentice.

He exhaled a hot fog into the darkened land.

“We ride. Now.”

The apprentice did not disappoint.

Maul should have been stunned with fury at finding her settled warmly in the gigoran’s home, but he found himself to be less and less surprised by her eccentric deeds. He felt her anxiety pulsating from the spots of illuminators of their buildings, through the darkness, and into his skin. His tongue pushed against his teeth when the miscreant’s words buzzed in his skull:

“Probably plotting their escape.”

But she did no such thing as he had initially thought.

The operation went smoothly, even if the apprentice only stared on with turmoil dancing behind her unmasked eyes. They glowed in the night and he caught himself staring a second too long amid a siege.

“…allured our Lord with her witty tongue and power and physique.”

He bristled at the uncouth slander and dipped into the black pool of hate and rage that it caused when he approached her. He settled his swirling thoughts and controlled his temper when he took in the Imperial Destroyer above them; a reminder of why he was on Gigor alongside his apprentice.

When the TIE fighters were deployed, that was a cause for concern, but Rook and Saxon were meticulous in their planning and left behind enough men to fly all the ships and gather their men where they were. Protecting the gigorans was of high priority, but the class of the Destroyer meant it carried over 100 starfighters, which was enough to overpower their small fleet.

Then she called his name. Like warm water rushing down his back, he straightened and answered her summon.

“This is what you have me for, isn’t it? My purpose? To unleash my might against the Empire.”

She said.

And she was right. This was her moment to outshine all of them with her power.

And if I were to lose her here?

Was that it then? Was that all she was meant for? To die to one Destroyer and not even of an Imperial-class? A cruel fate set by the Force.

But there was more. There was always more.

“I’ll get rid of these guys if you promise not to treat the gigorans as slaves, but as workers. You have more than enough means to provide pay and basic necessities for them to live independently and work under you.”

And there it was. What the insect had spoken about. What Rook despised. And what he had expected.

But not to this degree. He had not expected a threat.

A threat! The insolence!

“Who do you think you’re speaking to, woman?” If he could end her right there, he would. However, she knew how irreplaceable she was. Understood how interwoven her capabilities were in his plans. How much he relied on her. And she asked at the most opportune moment when she was so sure of taking down the incoming peril that would rain down bolts within minutes.

I could lie. She would know if he did.

She’s bluffing. The woman was capable of flight. He could foresee her taking Avin and the other one with a scar on his mouth, go to their starfighter and leave Crimson Veil to its fate.

He didn’t understand how it seeped its way through his wrath. How it found a crack in his solid wall of feelings provided by the Dark Side.

But it came through in a hushed whisper. Her grief. Her compassion. Her pain.

This wasn’t the apprentice speaking to him. It was the slave who severed the head of someone who killed her lasat. The slave who suffered from abuse and shame.

With a frustrated huff, she stepped close to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m sparing you a lifetime of hurt for your syndicate. With slaves comes the taste for freedom. And with that comes hope and a rebellion. I was the hope. I was the rebellion. I ended a single creature’s career. What makes you think they won’t do the same to you?”

Maul stuffed his wish to be speaking to her without a barrier over her face so he could watch her brows and lips quiver with the rage she so rarely expressed.

“Are you suggesting you will be their savior?”

“No,” was her firm response. “You are taking a family with you and they will fight until their last breath for their children’s freedom. I don’t need to be their hope. One already exists within their bonds.”

Family. Slavery. Hope. Rebellion. All things he was unfamiliar with, but not her. The apprentice who was so well versed with the galaxy and its inhabitants and culture. Her understanding of it was so deep that it felt as if he were no longer speaking to an average sentient. Nor a Force-sensitive one.

As always with her rage came the vibrations of the Force which buckled under her emotions. It bowed to her will and he wondered ever softly to himself…

Why hasn’t she killed me after all this time?

Behind the dark visor, he caught the faintest glow of her eyes that bore into his own and left him shuddering under their might.

There was no time to argue further on the matter. And, as always, he relented to her ways and nodded his approval.

She exhaled a breath she had been holding and her shoulders eased. “Thank you.”

Again, with the ‘thank you’. And so genuine. “Spare me your facetious expression and do as you promise.”

He couldn’t see it, but the way her body shifted in the neck and shoulders suggested she was smiling. Or smirking. And of all the grief she had put him through that night, it was a welcoming relief to know she had not been broken.

A vibroblade was shoved into his chest and he took it by instinct but did not hide his apparent confusion.

“I borrowed that from somebody. Best give it back to whoever they were,” she called her lightsaber to hand. “See you soon!”

She soared with the winds with a glow of blood orange swiping at the black veil coated with stars.

Maul desperately wanted to watch her take claim of the skies against the Imperials, but he had his own role to execute. And that was the ITT being brought closer to the ground.

“Lure them into the perimeter and flee into the air,” Maul commanded his legion, then nodded to the male, Avin, the apprentice was fond of, “Extend the electric barrier into a dome and encase them. Not one is getting out alive.”

Chapter Text

It was colder in the atmosphere. The only things accompanying Móni was the quiet hum of the lightsaber and the winds rushing past. Her heart thumped loud in her ears and her adrenaline coursed through her veins and tightened her muscles. The sky was an open field with nothing to impede her. Only the might of the Imperials and herself was all that mattered. And she would dominate.

Green bolts fired her way and she deflected one back at a TIE’s viewport and sent it twirling fast into a mountain’s face with an explosion. Móni spun and dodged a barrage of glowing green spears and severed a left solar wing at its pylon with a quick swing and sent it hurtling to the ground from the disbalance. Another bolt was deflected back, but the pilot shot out of the spiraling craft on an ejector seat. Móni pulled them towards her with the Force and she met their end with a glow of blood orange burning their neck.

Time faded. Her arm never relented. Her saber never tired. And the arctic winds were nonexistent. Beneath the one-piece liner, her body was steaming and sweat drizzled down her brows. She lost count of the number of TIEs she sent hurtling to the icy lands and peaks, but they kept coming. They kept sending more and more until she finally felt a small tightness in her chest from fatigue. But no matter how much her muscles screamed from the strain, she kept on.

Soon, the Imperials got smart and sent a dozen at once. Some swirled her way to distract her from the other half who flew at Crimson Veil scuffling below. In her peripheral, while she dodged a volley of bolts, there was a netted dome of electricity over a squad of stormtroopers who were shot down in a merciless massacre of yellow bolts from the Mandalorians who hovered above them.

One TIE aimed at the gunship, but a dual-bladed lightsaber illuminated red in the night and rebounded the bolts back and sent it tumbling into a crash in the hills. Móni grasped two with the Force and flung them into the TIEs after her, creating a wall of fire and smoke that disoriented some into colliding into each other.

When she felt the overwhelming might of the endless quantity of the Imperial’s battle capabilities, a Kom’rk-class starfighter gleamed past her and shot down several TIEs alongside her. The commlink in her helmet gave some static until a familiar voice spoke through.

“Having fun, yet?” Myn broke the rush in her head and eased her nerves from the much appreciated assistance.

Behind him, several more spiraled through Imperial starfighters sending back an array of gold bolts that decimated a line of three. On the ground some have landed to pick up the remaining members and prepped to leave the ice planet for good.

“Avin was right,” Móni grunted from deflecting another bolt. Starfighter bolts packed a heavier punch, putting more strain on her arm, “I’m sweating like crazy.”

Myn’s laugh satiated her battle raging hunger, welcoming a sound of mirth rather than combat.

“Hope you’re not too busy to do us all a little favor, Ma’am,” another voice cut through. One she favored over Commander Kast.

A TIE was tailing Myn, but Móni clenched onto it with the Force and threw into the mountain. “I think I can spare a few TIE fighters my time. What might this favor be, Lieutenant?”

“Getting rid of that Secutor-class Star Destroyer,” Gar wondered a little more as a question than a statement. “If you think these TIEs are annoying, the armaments of that thing are no joke. Getting past it is going to be a real hassle.”

Móni glanced at the arrowhead silhouette of the battle carrier that has been suspended in the same spot since its infiltration; its captain spewing havoc below them. She twirled from a TIE with the intent to crash into her, but she deftly sliced at its wing as it flew by.

This is it. This is where I put all I have to the test.

And there was a surge of excitement that coursed through her, giving her a second wind; enough to take down the Destroyer.

“On it.”

She rushed past the incoming TIEs, her speed outclassing their ion engines and maneuvering through them faster than they could turn their laser cannons.

Without a strategy, Móni charged at the Destroyer aiming its ion cannons at her and fired green bolts that were thicker than any she had physically battled against. With a guttural shout she brought up her lightsaber to deflect, but its force surpassed what she expected and could only direct it away and above her. Its impact sent her spinning back and barely managed to dodge another past her head.

“Don’t just act. Think!” His voice growled in her memory. “You are so quick to react but never consider the consequences.”

Stupid. She chided herself. Going straight at its bow was a dimwitted idea; it gave them the opportunity to fire all its armaments at her at once and deflecting so many of the massive bolts would kill her.

Móni swung to the ship’s side, a hail of green following after her, and she spun back at its stern where its rear cannons barraged at her. She twirled away from what she could, edging close to its flat surface, but a heavy bolt fired.

“There are many things you could veer with the Force,” his smooth voice rumbled from his chest. “Including blaster bolts.”

Her arm twitched to block but instead, she raised her hand and swiped at the bright plasma energy toward the empty sky. Too close now for the cannons to hit, Móni landed on the Secutor’s smooth surface and caught her breath.

Her shoulders and chest heaved with the fatigue weighing down on her body.

A shaft opened to range troopers filing out with magnetic gription boots and heavy white armor lined with fur. They aimed their blaster rifles at Móni, and she flew over the red bolts.

Gotta move. Don’t stop.

Amidships was the command tower that housed the Destroyer’s bridge and where she intended to ascend to, but a grappling hook wrapped around her ankle and yanked her down to the cold metal. Her sides bruised from the impact and her ears rung at the helmet colliding against her ear. Without giving her a moment to breathe she was showered with bolts and from her fallen position returned them to the troopers, only hitting three of the squad.

She sat up, gathered the Force around her, but was interrupted by being dragged across the ship’s wing from the cable still attached to her. Between being shot at and dragged, she was given no opportunity to sever the line.

Something to hold onto. Her free arm slid behind her, feeling the grooves, indents, and plates that made the ship until a deep crevice was caught by her fingers. Her leg was suspended by the taut line, she cut herself free and continued her previous assault by Force pushing them off the wing, but their boots secured them to the ship’s metal and they merely slid some from the attempt.

She huffed and flew at the troopers with her stomach close to the ground. When their firepower wasn’t enough to get past her lightsaber, they tossed blinking thermal detonators which she easily lifted with the Force and flung back, half of them exploding with hardly a scuff mark on the ship itself.

With nothing else to defend themselves with, the remainder were left at the mercy of her glowing blade that sliced their rifles then their throats.

There was a hiss of another shaft opening and Móni hurled upwards, not wanting to wait for another impediment.

Inside the viewport were Imperial officers seated before a console that stretched the span of the bridge, and a second level where the Admiral stood among men and women seated comfortably around him at their console. All safely tucked away in their hub that was outfitted with heavy armor and shields to protect themselves from any attack, they did not expect to see a woman suspended before them, illuminated with a blood-orange glow that gleamed off her helmet.

She swiped at the viewport and burnt a black streak that was shattered from her use of the Force. Transparisteel fragments rained on the cowering officers below and the ones on the second level fired at her with their blasters which were easily deflected.

Móni somersaulted through their fire and landed behind the Admiral whose head was immediately severed. In the brevity of the stunned silence from his crew, she gathered the Force within her and pushed out a wave that rocked the bridge and sent every human hurtling back to the walls.

Behind her stormtroopers opened fire, but she pushed them back and closed the door they came from and damaged the control panel.

“Okay,” she huffed. She kicked aside a groaning and semiconscious officer to access the console. But all she saw was a colorful array of buttons and switches. “Betts,” she groaned. “This is why I wanted to repurpose your wheel for icy terrains. Stubborn, useless, stupid, droid.”

An officer slid down a console under the viewport and held his head in pain. Móni leaped to his side and pulled him up by the stiff high collar of his uniform with a lightsaber at his throat. “How do I access the reactor from here?”

Between the faceless woman and the lightsaber, the man’s thin lips trembled, and his gray eyes shifted with uncertainty.

At the malfunctioning door, the stormtroopers were making quick work by the sounds of their tools, “If you tell me, I won’t leave you here with a ship ready to implode.” With a small whimper he pointed at its location and she dragged him with her. There was a screen of the reactor’s diagram that displayed its green and healthy levels and a dial locked in a case which she shattered with her fist.

Móni raised the dial and the screen turned red along with a blaring sound of alarms. She swiped her lightsaber at the panel, unable to tamper with any longer, and flew out with the screaming man she held by the back of his top and red bolts soaring past.

There was an explosion near the Secutor’s bow and created a chain reaction down its center. It dipped and tilted in a gradual descent toward Gigor, soon to become part of the landscape covered in snow.

In her triumph she laughed and spun, ignoring the Imperial officer who was hacking dry coughs and bumbling incoherent words from his numb mouth. Crimson Veil’s starfighters were numerous as they battled TIE fighters, but the settlement below was clear of their activity and were most likely in their ships, ready to disembark.

On a high hill of her own convenience, she plopped the shivering man down and sped away to return to her master’s side.

“You can’t leave me here!”

His cries died out from their growing distance and drowned out by her hum of elation rushing in her ears.

“Móni!” Gar exploded in her helmet with a tone that demanded rather than questioned. “Come to one of us now. The blockade is forming.”

As he spoke, entering the atmosphere was an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. But it wasn’t the only one. She extended her senses and the sky trembled under the might of a fleet encasing the continent.

If she could fracture one, then Crimson Veil would have a chance to flee and enter hyperspace the moment they broke out of the exosphere.

A swarm of TIE fighters were released, and she gripped tightly to her saber. On her wrist panel she coded in another frequency only she knew.

There was static on the other end until it was accepted with silence.

“Maul,” she flew toward the incoming enemy and met their barrage of bolts. “I’m going to try to make an opening for everyone.”

“There is no time,” he was abrupt and spoke with finalization. “We will make it through.”

“Don’t sound so sure of yourself, now,” she chuckled as she slashed at a TIE. “You know it’s going to be a mess if we try to break through with more than one of these around. There’s also a high chance of there being one just outside the planet.”

He spared several seconds of quiet to formulate his next response. The low and smooth growl of his voice so close to her ear would have sent her heart soaring as high as she was now, but the drums of battle fought away the girlish delight and focused on getting everyone to safety.

“Once we make it past, follow us immediately and board my ship.”

“Excuse me,” she paused to sever a TIE’s wing and used it to impale another, “You mean mine.”

There was a vexed exhale that made her mouth stretch in a well-needed grin, easing her face muscles and loosening her body.

If Móni believed he was capable of it, there may have been a pang of remorse that disrupted the stern flow of his order.

Maul spoke in her ear, rigid and under his breath, “Do not be reckless.”

“I’ll try,” she didn’t promise, then slid an amused remark, “Or you don’t think I can take them?”

“Do as you are instructed, apprentice,” the vibration of his snarl seeped into her bones and stopped her breath. After she swiped at two TIEs in succession the rush of combat started her heart again.

“Of course, Master,” she enunciated with an obvious note of enjoyment. He clicked his tongue and Móni spoke with a tight throat to push back the rising snicker from the connotation the simple noise meant, “Oh, no! Don’t go!”

He severed their line.

Her laugh echoed back at her beneath the helmet while the Imperial-class Destroyer began to mark Crimson Veil. Despite all the curling lips, furrowed brows, and growls, Maul always raised her spirits.

The call wasn’t necessary. He may have already known her intentions but hearing the rumble of his voice relieved the growing panic in her chest and into her stomach.

If the Imperials catch me… No. Don’t think. Fight!

And she fought through the exhaustion and sore arms.

If they do catch me, I swear I’ll make them regret it.

-

Maul squeezed the yoke’s right handle and his wrist panel was still raised close to his mouth from speaking with the apprentice.

He blinked, his attention on the green and gold bolts striking the sky and searched for the faintest glow of deep orange.

“My Lord, we are ready,” Kast spoke through the ship’s comm system.

Without gleaning a response, he took a sharp inhale, selected several inputs in the control panel and lifted off with the gunship rising alongside him. Kast was at the helm of the flight of starfighters that surrounded it as they soared towards the outer atmosphere, their shields surviving the brunt of the TIE fighters and Saxon leading a flight of his own to combat the meager Imperial starcrafts who weren’t as skilled in aviation as the Mandalorians.

The woman is willing to sacrifice herself.

And it wasn’t despair that drove her, it was loyalty. A concept he found hard to believe coming from her. But he should have known when she proudly donned the helmet of the Shadow Collective, displaying his markings and horns on herself. It was as significant as her declaring her apprenticeship with him and his ownership of her.

Pride swelled his chest together with a sensation that sank into his stomach. A dangerous ally of the Dark Side which Master had educated the inclinations behind such a feeling and what it led to. Maul was not one who held onto such things and readily let go of that which was his, no matter how difficult it was.

But the apprentice…

As they approached the enemy his ship shook from bolts that bounced off its shields and he fired his own to down several TIEs, as well as the gunship that conducted plenty of damage. Maul leaned to the edge of his seat when he caught a glimpse of orange on the ISD’s left wing, and all seven of the turbolaser turrets directed at something other than the flight of enemy starfighters it should be concerned about.

Red flames erupted from the turrets’ destruction and as they approached, his breath caught at the apprentice deflecting what she could while also being repelled by the might of medium turbolasers firing at her.

“Sir! You need to get out of the way!” Kast exploded into the comms.

Heavy ion cannon turrets on the capital ship’s dorsal turned to aim at him and the gunship, but the ship being the only barrier between the blaster and the merchandise, Maul was not prepared to lose any of it when they were so close to freedom. He checked the percentage of his shields and there was not nearly enough left to take a head-on attack.

His fingers were quick to input the autopilot commands and jumped up to make for the escape pod, but he held himself back by the seat’s headrest when a blade of orange was starting towards him. Thick, green bolts fired at him, but the apprentice flew faster than their trajectory and took the brunt of them with her lightsaber and directed them upward, the impact flinging her back against the ship’s side with a loud thump.

The grip on the seat tightened when no noise of movement echoed inside the cockpit.

Another array of ion bolts made its way to him but the apprentice kicked off, rocking the ship, and deflected one away with the Force and used the lightsaber on the other, pushing her body back.

She Heaved. Head lowered. A slump in her shoulders. A TIE’s bolt scorched her bare arm, the fabric tattered and burned already in several places.

Maul read their location in the atmosphere on the console and how close they were to reaching their goal.

“Kast,” he connected to her, “Continue toward hyperspace the second you exit the atmosphere.”

“Sir?”

“I will be close behind,” he left it at that, trusting the commander to do what she was told, unlike the apprentice who clearly wanted to take matters into her own hands.

He selected to release the ramp and strode his way down the hall and through the galley where flashes of green aimed at the apprentice and the last of his starfighters who protected their escape at the rear sped past below. Cold winds whipped his face and coat and he leaned against the hydraulic for support while he spoke into his wrist panel.

“Get aboard the ship. Now!” He followed her flight and she deflected more of the ion cannons’ attacks.

There was a huff followed by a pant before she answered, “Why are you still here? Leave or Rook would eat me alive for a five-course meal.”

The impertinence! Even now. It never ends.

“I will not tell you again. This is an order,” he snapped. His face taut with fury.

“I’m doing exactly what you trained me to do. Being your weapon against the Empire.”

“I did not train you to be a reckless fool! What point is there to my training if you’re captured?”

“Then I did my duty and served you well,” there was not an ounce of urgency or care in her tone. It was all a game to the woman, like her view on how the Force treated her. But it did not stop the rage that rippled in his throat. “The Imperials are going to have the time of their life with me.”

His lips twitched and muscles throbbed from how wound up they were. And his breath stuck to his chest from the raw malice that was forming there. Envisioning her in the hands of his Master. All that power. Potential. Something he made passed along to someone else. He curled his lips and his mouth opened into a snarl.

“You are mine and mine alone!” he roared. His eyes were hot and blood boiled, and he welcomed the pain. The fuel. “You are my possession and creation. Master will not have you!”

She said nothing for some time, her exhaustion gasping through his comms as she deflected more bolts.

“Maul,” she started thickly, but then it turned into a sharp gasp. “Maul, look out!”

A TIE fighter charged his way, blasting bolts which he deflected with his lightsaber and aimed them back at its wings, sending it spiraling to its doom. Then came another up his flank, but it was gravitated away and collided against another by the apprentice’s use of the Force.

Close to him now. Just mere meters away, Maul extended a hand for her to take and it drew her to him. But she snapped her head left and a pressure against his chest shoved him back from her Force push before an ion blast struck the hull and took part of the ramp with it.

“You’re so stubborn!” the apprentice flew at him, but a spiraling TIE struck her and took her with it.

“Móni!” He gasped her name with the last of his fury and was replaced by something he was not often privy to. Bombarded now with green bolts, the ship was aflame, and he wasted no time to follow the apprentice.

With arms and legs outstretched he free-fell with the Force to guide his direction to land stomach first on a TIE flying past. He brought his goggles over his eyes to block the piercing winds and pulled himself to the front. He lit one end of his lightsaber and cut a large hole in the viewport and removed. When he glanced over the edge, the Imperial pilot clad in black aimed a blaster and fired, centimeters from hitting a horn. Maul peered over again and was quick to Force choke them before being yanked out and released to the land below.

Maul took control of the falling starfighter and veered it towards the last place he remembered the apprentice falling.

“Durmónia,” he called out to her, but there was only static on her line. He inhaled sharply and sped as fast as the diminutive and uncomfortable contraption would go to reach her.

“You have gotten better at sensing an individual’s presence,” he had said to her the first time she invited him to eat a meal she prepared especially for him.

“I have,” the apprentice readily agreed. “Although I spend so much time with you it’s kinda been imprinted in me I feel.”

As much he wanted to ignore what she meant by those words, Maul felt it as well. There was a connection between them, and it only strengthened from the long hours they spent together. Sometimes an entire rotation until she could no longer keep her eyes open.

He searched for the warmth that clashed against the frigid tundra. A star that was brighter than any other. And was as smooth as those arms that slid around his neck those many months ago.

Maul saw her. Deep in a pile of snow, inching herself out with what strength she had left.

A jolt broke him out of the spell and a wing was smoking with jumping blue sparks. He pulled the craft back as far up as he was able and when it was just skimming the ground, he jumped and rolled into the snow before he crashed into a hill’s face.

The soft winds turned harsh and gray clouds crept over the moon. If he didn’t find her before the storm, she would be buried and lost to him. Her presence. It was weakening.

Don’t lose consciousness.

On a hill, a battle between the gigorans and Imperials continued to wage to the east, and the natives were losing. To attack such an insignificant settlement, the Imperial’s purpose must be to enslave those who live then overturn the land into a mining operation. The apprentice and he needed to maintain a safe distance from the area lest they are seen and captured.

To the northwest was a steady stream of smoke Maul assumed to be the TIE that crashed into her and raced swiftly across the soft terrain. With only one more hill to bend around, one more to reach her, red bolts fired at him from a squad of snowtroopers. He used the hill as cover and the wing of the fallen starfighter was in his line of sight.

With a single Force leap, he soared with bolts shooting past and landed at the buried craft with an empty cockpit and ruptured viewport. The controls were still operational and above the layer of snow for Maul to check its functioning armaments. He waited for the soldiers to trek over the hill’s peak and fired at them with the angled blaster cannons from its tilted wing, eradicating the lot of them.

A blaster’s fire echoed nearby. His hearts stilled and he dashed to its source where the apprentice’s blade served as a beacon for her location and the Imperial pilot was hobbling at her with blaster raised.

Every emotion he kept in a steady pulse in his veins erupted from his chest and into his limbs and throat as he sprang into the air with lightsaber ignited.

The pilot did not notice the silent form hurtling at them with blazing eyes that marked its prey. Nor could they feel the explosive rage aimed solely for them and their death.

It was swift and painless, much to Maul’s disappointment. But the severed head that dropped like stone, and satisfied his hunger and soothed the blood rushing in his ears.

At the sight of him, the apprentice shut off her saber and sunk back to the snow.

He raised her in his arms and rested her on his metal limb, which she hissed at.

“Cold!”

He brought the tail of his coat over as a barrier and just skimmed at her injuries and burnt skin beneath the ripped liner to grasp the much needed medical attention.

“We need to move,” he pushed her to sit up. “Soon the area will be overrun with Imperials.”

“Alright,” she grunted and used his shoulder to lift herself to her feet.

He rose with her and she did not remove her hand, her weight leaning against him. Her breaths were deep, and her head struggled to stay up.

“We need to try to get to those mountains,” he turned his head north.

“It’s so far,” she groaned.

“It’s the only cover we have against the incoming storm,” as he spoke feathers of snow fell on them.

In her fatigue, the woman still managed to find her curiosity and tilted her head at a snowflake that touched his nose and melted.

“So small,” she mused softly.

“You can see more on the way there,” he lifted the thick hood over his head and edged her to move. “They will be scouting the area; now make haste.”

Her hand slid down his arm and grasped onto his sleeve as they made their way. She tugged down with half her weight, but Maul was able to carry it. The woman deserved that much. And more.

“Did they make it?” she mumbled.

Maul observed the empty space in the sky where they had flown through, and there was not a starfighter or gunship in sight. His wrist panel blinked.

“My Lord, we made it through and are on route,” Kast spoke with some severity and a tightness in her throat.

“She sounds pleased,” the apprentice commented with what wit she could muster under her breath.

“The merchandise will be Avin Jor’s responsibility,” Maul ordered his commander.

Kast stuttered before repeating the name, “Avin?”  

“Is he not the one in charge of our personal shipments and products?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Then see to it he does his due diligence.”

There was a choked sigh she withheld and continued forward with her traditional tone of respect, “And you, Sir? Do you require us to…”

“No,” Maul cut her off. “The apprentice and I will find our own way out. The planet will be under Imperial rule in a matter of a few rotations. Continue our duties with Vos, but do not accept any more mission requests.”

“Understood,” her voice dropped with a somber tone, not pleased with the idea. “But, Sir, how will you--.”

She was severed in an instant and Maul dropped his arm.

“What happened?” the woman’s weight was getting heavier and her speech sluggish.

“The Imperials have blocked all outgoing communication from Gigor,” he surmised to her.

Unconcerned by their immediate circumstances, Maul glanced at the woman. Alone with an injured apprentice on a planet undergoing an Imperial occupation he shouldn’t have been so calm. It had been some time since his resolve was tested so. Not since the siege of Mandalore.

He wondered about the turn of events if she was with him then.

But what mattered was now and he had never been so gratified by the prospect of having her at his side. The capacity of her abilities was endless and deep in his core he understood what he witnessed in the skies was a fraction of what she could do.

And he would not have her.

Never.

“So, we did it,” there was a dry laugh behind the helmet, and he imagined the well-placed smirk that was surely underneath.  

“Yes,” he breathed the cold air into his lungs, tempering the electric current on his arm from her touch.  Her feet dragged, and Maul was practically pulling her along, “You were magnificent.”

“Charmer,” her body leaned against his arm. “You always know how to make me blush,” she said in the faintest whisper then her body fell, but he caught her before she sunk to the ground.

He crouched to adjust her body behind him and lifted her onto his back and her legs hooked over his arms. The helmet was a discomfort on his shoulder, but it was nothing compared to her own.

Her heat warmed his back. A reminder she was alive. With him. Still his.

His possession.

-

In her dreams, her body was pressed by tender touches. Delicate and sparse. Never lingering on one area for too long. It quieted her thoughts and lulled her deeper into slumber.

Then her mind was awoken. Prodded fiercely as if her body was being shaken awake by a brutal hold.

You have been snubbing me, Miss Boudika.

Mock delight dripped from his words and clawed at her skull.

You cannot avoid me for long.

Móni’s throat squeezed and her face numbed.

She knew him. Felt him.

Felt it in the yellow pages of the written letter that splattered like bloodstains.

The planet masked by a toxic mist of red.

His screams.

What do you want? Her voice was meek. Small. Compared to the bold and clear spite that edged at his tone.

Daughter of those who control. Who watch. Who pretend.  

He buried deeper and deeper into resentment. Spitting his disgust. His rage.

I don’t understand. Gently. Gently. She was pushing her way out of the dark confines of the man’s cage.

She was sucked back with a painful hold, paralyzing her body, and his breath touched her ear.

Be careful, Miss Boudika, he chimed with distortion that made her blood run cold. Or you will suffer as I have.

His shrilling screech infused with all his violence and fiery wrath gushed into her mouth.

And she knew him. His loss. Wandering. Numb. A boundless well of sorrow he never released. Always suffering. Always longing for his long lost love.

Get out.

Know me!

Get out!

The First Sith! The Rouge Jedi!

Móni was slipping away. Fading deeper into herself while his presence grew stronger in her consciousness.

NO.

She gathered the power within her, and it exploded in her mind. His screeches of defeat echoed further into the recesses of whatever black hole in the Force he came from and it was silent.

Then it came in whispers. Soft. Not as loud. It was easier to contain thanks to Maul’s tutelage and she picked out what she could from their pleas.

Find them.

Find the Heretic.

There was a soft warmth along the side of her face and over her body. Above her was stone slick with slight condensation and a weak fire burning. There was a weight on her chest and after several seconds of adjusting to the dark, it was a coat similar to what Maul wore. She breathed in the hood and was intoxicated by his heavy scent that most certainly marked the clothing as his.

The winds whistled outside between the slit of wall and rock slab that covered the entrance and gray light and snow seeped through. Her muscles ached when she sat up but the sting of open wounds and inflamed skin was minimal. She ran a finger across her shoulder where the bolt burn was a light red and felt nothing more than a bruise.

By her hand were all their ration bars and medical stims lined neatly in a row. She took the packaged bar and chewed the tasteless product while twisting her body around the rounded cavern.

No Maul.

She took another bite and extended her senses. Past the storm, across the flat land before it sloped down into a rocky path to the base of the mountain, he was climbing back to their small haven.

With a steady exhale she laid back down, finished her bar, and breathed.

Steady. Slow. Then his musk struck her senses, an aroma mixed with wet stone and wood, and she bundled the coat and tossed it at her feet.

“Karkin. Mother of kwath,” she mumbled harshly to herself.

Block it.

Móni reached into herself and covered every unnecessary feeling with hollow indifference.

“You’re going to be stuck with him for a good while. Better get a hold of yourself,” she licked her lips then rubbed her face. “Get a hold of it.”

His presence was sensed before his footfalls crunched outside and the slab raised and settled back in place after he entered. Maul’s features were covered in a mask and goggles, and he patted down the tufts of white powder off himself. In his hands were bunches of moss, grass, and lichen, and slung over his back a bundle of wood tied with a cable.

“Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you take your coat with you?” Móni kicked the lump at her feet.

Maul brought down his mask and lifted the goggles to flash her with yellow wonder; not a shiver in his body from traversing through the icy gales.

“You were repeating how cold you were in your sleep,” was his brusque response while he threw pieces of lichen in the flame, lighting it brighter.

“I don’t talk in my sleep,” she accused her master and huddled closer to the flame. Rubbing the parts of her arms that were exposed.

“And how would you know?” he lifted his coat and shook it out of its crumpled mess to fold it in a tidy square.

“Betts would never let me hear the end of it if I did,” Móni lifted her nose in the air, not buying Maul’s lie for a moment. “Thank you, though. I was warm,” she exposed the hospitality he wished to hide.

His lips pressed together along with a twitch in his nostril as he sat across from her without looking her way. He raised his wrist panel and displayed a small scale holomap of Gigor. He zoomed to a red mark for their location, then pointed at a yellow marker.

“This is the nearest outpost,” he began. “The Imperials will be focusing their efforts on the main cities before spreading further to the smaller regions. Here we will find any ship we can and attempt to go off-world.”

Móni rubbed her bottom lip with her thumb, “I think we should contact Kyp beforehand.”

Maul shot a glance at her in question and for her to elaborate.

“He could help scramble their communication systems and get us out of here without them even noticing. I’m sure he has some stuff in the works that could outclass an Imperial’s tech.”

He kept his unblinking gaze on her, and kept his unspoken thoughts, “You have the holoprojector with you?”

“Always carry it with me,” she pulled it from her utility belt. Maul’s “gift”.

“Make an attempt at contact when the storm subsides,” his lips curled back over his teeth and there was a quiver in his jaw. “We will see how well his equipment fairs with blocked transmissions.”

“Baelis?” Móni inspected the palm-sized device and smacked her lips with little care. “Guess we’ll see. I’m sure Kyp would like to know too,” she flashed a grin as she tucked it back into the pouch. “You don’t like him either I take it?”

Maul slid his attention elsewhere, eyes narrowing with a heated glare, and his hand propped over his raised knee flexed twice before he returned his attention to the holomap. Móni chewed her lip to keep from prying, but she was glad to know he had his opinions. And ones that aligned with hers.

“On foot it will take at most a week to reach it.”

“Oh!” Móni’s cry jolted Maul into attention. “Did Rook take my speeder bike from the time they left me so I could deal with the gigorans?”

His brows furrowed before he blinked with realization, “No.”

“We can go get it! And I’m sure it got buried from the storm so the Imperials won’t find it.”

“We would be returning to Imperial territory,” Maul mused to himself.

“A week is a long time to be dodging Imperials flying overhead and dealing with whatever other creatures that lurk around here. It may take us even longer.”

Maul dropped his knee and rested his hands on the crossed limbs. He nodded.

“Did you want to head out now? The winds could hide our visibility from the snowtroopers.”

At this, he was quick to answer, “The winds have increased, and we would be walking into a blizzard. Not an ideal way to travel.” He made a clinical scan of her body, roaming down her arms and legs, and it was enough to make her blood rise, “And you are still recovering.”

“I can handle a bit of wind,” she scoffed. Distracting his attention away from her face by waving her hands at him.

He expanded the holomap to oversee the terrain with a raised brow and a muted sigh but said nothing more on the matter.

A chill ran down her spine from a tear on her back and her teeth chattered. She laid on her side with her back facing the fire, curled in a ball on the cold floor.

He saw her fatigue. No matter how hard she tried to hide it.

She caressed her swollen, bottom eyelid and exhaled sharply. But if it was plain to see then there was no need to put on a front. If she was to be of any more use to him in their journey, she needed to be a paramount example of what he strived for her to be.

Without his legion of Mandalorians, he had no shields. Móni was his last line of defense and sole protector.

And she cannot. Would not fail at maintaining his safety.

He was fleeing Gigor with his freedom and life, even if it costs her own.

“You are mine and mine alone!”

Móni concealed her face further into her arm and covered it with the other.

Like how a Sith or Jedi need their lightsaber. A Mandalorian with their blaster and armor. A pirate with their credits and riches. She was a priceless commodity he refused to let go.

And yet she felt no bitterness toward it.

Resolve settled her racing heart and the shattered illusion of something she knew would never come into fruition expanded her constricted chest. Even so, there was still that fragment of chance she held onto. But that was all it was.

A fragment.

The weight on her eyelids drifted them shut and she returned to quiet, undistracted rest.

And in the space between deep slumber and consciousness, a warm mass settled over her body and ceased her trembling. A sigh escaped her lips when she nuzzled into his comforting scent.  

She had fallen so deep, Móni didn’t think there was a way out anymore.

Chapter Text

Avin Jor.

The so called Mando who cleaned, maintained, and polished his blaster every day for it to never be used.

The Mando who wanted to side with Bo-Katan Kryze instead of Lord Maul and Savage.

Who followed his lover into the inferno of wars, crime, and corruption.

And connected with his Lord’s apprentice.

Tethered to her fate.

“Excuse me?”

Avin had just inputted a self-destruct sequence into the probes that surrounded a grave of snowtroopers so the Imperials wouldn’t lay a hand on his work. And his clan members were running the engines of their starfighters when Maul halted him in his tracks. He stood to attention on impulse, the posture ingrained into his fibers after so many years of fighting alongside a leader he didn’t inherently approve of.

And although Avin performed all the necessary formalities before his Lord, his tongue did not. So, when he was tasked to take charge of the gigorans when they landed on Andelm IV, he did not obey blindly.

“If I may ask why, my Lord?” He included the title with some thought, but Maul didn’t seem to mind or care about the obvious lack of reverence other members of the clan bore before him.

“The apprentice and I made an arrangement and she wished for them to not be treated as,” he paused before he spoke from the side of his mouth with his lips curled back, “slaves.”

“Oh,” was all he could muster. As the only persons within the clan who made any effort to maintain a relationship with the rowdy woman, Avin and Myn saw many things with their trained and focused vision. For one, her attachment for their Lord.

And his for her.

She was changing him. And not to many of their clan member’s liking. However, it never crossed Avin’s mind she would have a hold on him to this extent.

Interesting…

Avin bowed his head with acceptance (not that he really had a choice), “I’ll see to their arrangements.”

Maul said no more on the matter. He kept a steady gaze on him as he turned, his attention flickering to the holstered blaster before he strolled away.

There was a friendly tap on Avin’s shoulder.

“What was that about?” Myn checked his vambrace’s panel and motioned his head for Avin to follow to his starfighter.

"I think our Lord is enthralled with a mutual friend.”

"Who? Móni?” Myn wondered with disbelief. “I mean. We know how she feels about him, but… him?”

Maul leaped before the gunship and deflected TIE fighter bolts then toppled it to the ground. He remained where he stood, watching his apprentice soar in the skies with an ability Avin wasn’t sure he could ever wrap his head around. Nor did he try to make sense of it. He knew Móni was unique, in more ways than one. From her upbringing, hobbies, sense of humor, and powers, she was by far the most interesting person he had ever encountered. And he wasn’t the only one who saw that.

It was evident in the way their Lord eyed her every motion, following the blur of blood-orange swiping at their enemy.

He understood that distant look. When something was so far and yet so close to claim as your own. Avin knew far too well it hurt.

“He’s only half machine, Myn,” Avin faced his dearest companion, the visors hardly serving as a barrier to their emotions. “Two hearts still beat under that bloodied skin of his.”

Myn shook his head and chuckled with some conviction as he jetpacked into his ship’s cockpit, “Well, I’m going to help our girl out and get her back in one piece to Lord Maul.”

“Please do,” Avin patted the starcraft for good measure to hope for Myn’s safe return as well. “He’s only become tolerable because of her influence. Imagine if something were to happen to her.”

Myn worked on his ship’s settings, powering it up with hot winds then paused to regard Avin, “I think I’m seeing your point.”

Avin shrugged and dropped his arms; a powerless spectator who could only wait to see how things would unfold between his friend and Lord.

As the viewport slid shut over Myn, he burst into a laugh of disbelief, “Who would have thought?”

-

Unable to connect to the syndicates, no datapads to rifle through logistics and deals, or space to exercise his forms, Maul sat against the smoothed stones and stared into the flickering flames; adding fuel every so often to maintain its strength. He had checked the planet’s terrain more times he could count, having memorized their location and the paths they needed to take to reach the outpost. What he wished he had was intel on where the Imperial forces had landed; he could only theorize their tactics based on larger settlements and lands rich with minerals. Beyond that, they were going through the planet blind.

The gales howled outside the cave, a pile of snow forming at the slit he left so they wouldn’t asphyxiate from the smoke. Opposite of the campfire, the apprentice shifted in her sleep and buried her head into his coat with a satisfied and light moan. An action she had done several times in the past several hours and considered it a strange quirk. With nothing else to occupy his time, he outlined the tight curls packed together at the back of her head, a different style to fit her thick locks beneath the helmet.

He reached over and entwined his hand into the thick, black coils pushing further into their net to massage her scalp.

Maul blinked out of the fantasy and rose fast with hands strained at his sides and a rush of heat coursing from his neck and up to his crown. He flung the stone slab to the side with the Force and invited the biting winds against his face to alleviate his hot skin. Lost in how to settle the turbulence in his body without meditating—to sit unmoving in the snow would freeze his cybernetics and he refused to do it in her presence—Maul settled with forcing it out of his system. He went into form and performed various K’thri movements, kicking and sweeping against the gush of wind with his knees and elbows.

Each strike held more power than the last when her lashes batted at him, every twist escalated in fury at her loud laugh, and his jumps reminded him of her panic-stricken eyes when she was nearly vaulted by the Force into space. When her hand ran up his arm with gentle fingers feeling the grooves of his bones and veins beneath his marked skin.

The storm was weakening, freeing his movements and making them erratic and fast. Sweat built at his brow and his body was heated with rage instead of the insufferable pounding in his chest. The pulse in his veins became familiar, untying the knot that had formed in his stomach. He swung his arm for it to stop at a perplexed woman with swollen eyes and loose strands of curls over her brown features. If he moved in any way toward her, his leathered knuckles would graze her darkened cheek.

“What are you doing?” the apprentice blinked lazily.

Maul huffed hot steam from his expanded lungs and eased his form, “Get back inside. You need more rest.”

She arched a thick brow, “I would still be sleeping if someone didn’t leave the door open and snuffed out the fire.”

He snapped his attention at the slab he did not, in fact, return to place before avoiding the woman’s pointed stare, “And you know how to build a fire and move the stone yourself.”

“Sure,” she shrugged underneath the extra layer of his coat she had put on. He wasn’t sure if the appearance infuriated or pleased him. “But I figured since it was your fault you should do it.”

There was a twitch in his eye he couldn’t control, and his mouth contorted to withhold a growl. The sunset fluttered at him with innocence and her lips coiled to the side in her usual way when she wanted to giggle. She wasn’t serious, not entirely. Maul knew her insatiable curiosity was what drew her out into the frigid tundra, otherwise, she would have been quick to start the flame and warm herself.

She was riling him knowing he was in a bitter mood. The woman always sensed it.

Maul swallowed his snarl and something else took form on his own lips. It stretched to the side and it gave the apprentice pause.

“Fine,” he stalked back to their hovel, leaving her in stunned silence.

“Hey!” she called out to him in accusation.

Oh? He turned to her with brows raised. Had the Master finally bested the master of antics?

But, no. Of course not. Her jaw was slack and she had a finger pointed at the ground from where he stood, then followed his tracks to his legs. She removed a glove and put the back of her hand to the warm metal.

“Is that how you’ve been staying warm?” she gaped. Stunned. Affronted. “That’s not fair!”

He turned his back to her to hide the delight growing on his face.

“And this whole time I thought you were so cool being able to withstand the weather so well,” she stomped her way past him. “Cheater,” she shot a glare at him behind her shoulder.

It bubbled up from his chest and to his throat, and he did not have the composure to hold it in anymore. The sound was dry and unfamiliar, and it hurt his cheeks. But by the Force, it felt liberating. As if he had released a piece of himself that had been caged his whole life.

The apprentice turned to him, and he felt something strong. Unnatural. And it wiped his good nature away. But the emotions were stuffed in an instant, the only remnants of it were left glittering in her eyes. Eyes that were drinking him in with…

Yearning?

Before he could scrutinize what he may or may not have seen anxiety replaced it not a moment later. She removed his coat in frantic haste then turned it over in her hands in a poorly made fold. All Maul could do was blink in question at the performance.

Then she stopped. Back straightened and head rigid. Everything he had felt before was drowned out with vigilance, and the Force shuttered around her.

“What is it?” he needn’t ask. He had his suspicions what it could have been given how the blizzard ceased and the storm was coming to a standstill.

“We need to go,” she stuffed the ration bars and stim packs into her utility belt without poise, then threw the ball of clothing at his chest with more force than was necessary. “They’re not that close, but best to get a head start.”

On her way out she masked her face with the helmet and was deliberate in avoiding eye contact. He slipped the coat on, half expecting her to yank it from him to stop the razor breeze through the open slits in her liner, but it seemed her shining aura had been diluted into a gray fog and carried little concern for herself.

She’s hiding something. But when wasn’t she?

He worked his jaw and sighed through his teeth at yet another mystery to unfold. He had been patient with the source of her hate, grief, and pain, and Maul resolved he could draw out the new dilemma with time as he had done before; unless it became a hindrance, in which case it would have to be dealt with swiftly.

The apprentice whipped around with a veil of anger and shame wrapped around her, and he stopped at the weight of it, “Cover our tracks.”

Brusque. She was never brusque with him. Eager to understand her further, a growl hummed from deep in his chest at the apprentice’s oddity; intrigued to push her to the edge and drive it out. But testing her during their delicate circumstances was an ill decision with Imperials tracking them and he couldn’t be sure how she would react.

Explosively, was his first assumption.

He followed her directive by sliding the stone slab completely shut and dusted their footprints with the Force. Now it was his turn to finally ask, in her words: “What are you mad about now?”

-

Kriff.Kriff.Kriff.Karking shavit.Son of a bantha.

For everything Móni hated about the Force, she blessed its timely manner in sending Imperials after them. At least it was good for something, but not good enough. He felt it. It was a taste of it, but she was certain he did. Of all the times to—

Nope. Don’t think about it.

Her steps crunched loud and her ears throbbed from her heartbeats. Móni was in desperate need to realign her emotions but there was no time between avoiding detection and slipping under the Imperial’s noses to reach her speeder bike. A part of her wanted to run into the squad of stormtroopers to extinguish the flames roaring under her skin with combat. Even the forsaken snow couldn’t stifle it.

I miss playing shockball. The best form of stress relief she ever found was a sport that didn’t require long and arduous forms to memorize. All she needed was her instincts, athletics, and a good arm. Things were so simple then. She didn’t have to deal with a stubborn zabrak who had no life outside his duties within the syndicate and obsessed with honing her abilities. So many things to dislike about him and yet she managed to pick up on the decent pieces of rubble that hardly made up for his poor qualities.

Stubborn. Obsessive. Bad temper. Anger issues. “Social skills” that only includes meticulous planning and manipulation. Crime lord. Murderer.

She kicked up a shower of snow imagining it was his warm, metal legs.

“Uhm, apprentice,” his voice trailed from a certain distance behind her.

Maul brought up his face mask and hood to conceal the stark contrast between his crimson skin and the tundra from being easily spotted. His tone carried some wonder, if not bewilderment, and it only sank her deeper into the confines of her insecurities and embarrassment.

Maybe he didn’t notice, she tried to placate her worries. Maybe he doesn’t care.

The latter stung, but it was better than him pursuing it.

“What?” she sighed. Tired of assuaging herself.

He pointed in the direction where there was the familiar unleveled plain of hills and bare trees, “This way.”

She glanced at a range of mountains she was misleading herself toward and followed Maul with a huff. He measured the distance she maintained between them but said nothing. Móni’s lips were sealed to prevent another amateur mistake and took the time to search for anything to draw her emotions from. But it was difficult to navigate through the disarray and panic she created, incapable of focusing on something simple and clear.

I’m spiraling. Not good.Not good.

“Have you been able to sense the Imperial troopers?”

The unexpected, suave sound rose her shoulders in a scare and broke the inner turmoil.

“What? Oh. They’re…,” she reached out across the terrain to a group of beings making their way to the mountain they had left behind long ago, “not following. At least not for a while.”

Focus on them. A distraction to keep her mind away from the weak and helpless sensation Maul had unknowingly filled her with. Of all the beings in the galaxy, it had to have been someone who was not only Force-sensitive but trained in it. Just my luck.

Keeping track of the Imperial’s movements soothed her dread and had nearly forgotten the picture of perfection and the sound of bliss. Maul had also followed her silence and she sensed nothing out of the ordinary when she lightly prodded his emotions, except maybe the occasional sparkle of humor behind the haze of anger which was rather unsettling.

“Are you amused at something, Master?” Móni deduced to her dismay. She supposed it was a good thing as that would be the last reaction he would ever express if he discovered the truth. But if he was getting a kick out of her little tantrum then something was seriously wrong with her.

He hummed lightly, feigning ignorance, “How so, apprentice?”

She groaned internally, “Nevermind.” It only aggravated her more to know she was being laughed at, but it had been a long time coming from all her teasing.

“Tell me about that vision you so earnestly wish to avoid telling,” Maul began with some light airs.

“Is this really the time to talk about it?”

Maul scanned past the hills without any source of life, the empty and dark gray atmosphere above them, and to the west where an arrow-shaped shadow of the ISD remained suspended miles away.

“Do you sense any incoming danger?” he flashed her with bright eyes after sensing for himself the answer.

“No…,” she admitted begrudgingly. Móni's constant and uninvited guest aroused discomfort, most notably his harsh whispers and screams that demanded her attention. She wished for the Force to stop pestering her out of spite, but with him, it was akin to waking up from a night terror. “But I still rather not.”

The demand offended him, of course. His anger etched his face with lines and furrowed brows, “This is not an inquiry.”

“Oh, Maul. I know,” she waved away his need for control. “I’m not in the mood to talk about him.”

“Him?” he seemed pleased to draw something out of her, but his temper continued to rise based on the mild inflection of annoyance.

“Yes,” she exhausted. “Him. I don’t want to talk about him. Because he’s a nightmare and I would rather keep him there.”

“A being is tormenting you from beyond the Force,” he guessed with such precision Móni was not at all surprised, to say the least. Maul was capable of piecing together random pieces of information from thin air and accurately depict the much larger picture they came from. An annoying trait.

And attractive.

“We’re really doing this aren’t we?” she mumbled with indignation.

He growled from deep within his chest, “If you let this go unchecked then it would only hurt you in the same way your hate for the Force had affected you.”

Móni bowed her head away from the anguish the Force put her through before she vented to Maul. Now, she could consider its presence tolerable, thanks to him. She couldn’t fathom what the dark creature wanted, but in his recent visit, it felt he was swallowing her identity and taking control. Was she confident enough to battle him by herself?

“Got me there,” she gave Maul his tiny victory. “He scares me,” she confessed soon after. “Not in the same way Palpatine does, since I have some sort of idea of what he wants from me. But this guy,” she exhaled a shaky breath, “I have no idea what he wants.”

 “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” she hesitated. “And no.”

Not one for unnecessary delays, Maul bit at her with impatience, “Elaborate.”

“I know of him, but I’ve never met him. No one in this age has.”

He narrowed his eyes with intrigue and underlying suspicion, “Someone from the past.”

“Way in the past,” Móni recalled Q’var’s journal in the ancient Old Republic ship on D’Qar and how the letter was removed from its inner seams. She eyed her master with her own suspicion, “I think you may know who he is too.”

“Cease the frivolities and tell me who he is.”

“The Rogue Jedi.”

Maul halted fast and his brows rose to genuine surprise. His blood-stained eyes searched for any deception behind her visor, and she made herself transparent so he could sense her truth. He took a step towards her but became hesitant as he flexed his hands at his sides and focused on the crushed snow at his feet. Of all the reactions Móni would have expected, being tongue-tied was not one of them.

In the midst of his inner debate, she sensed a slight change in the tranquil winds not far from where they were. There were no fast movements or lingering shadows that appeared out of place, but the hairs on the back of her neck rose and she wished she could blame the cold for it.

“Maul,” she put a finger over the helmet where her lips would be. “Something isn’t right.”

He made an automatic alteration in his temperament and unfurled the Dark Side, ready for battle, “Do you know where?”

“No,” Móni shuffled her feet in the clumped mass of white powder. “It’s hard for me to tell where things are in this mushy ground. I can’t feel vibrations.”

Maul had been mindful to cover their tracks as they traveled, so it wasn’t anyone pursuing them, and he considered the obvious as quick as she did, “A trap it would seem.”

“Can’t know for sure until we see for ourselves,” she continued forward, her lightsaber unclasped from the belt.

They scanned every inch of the area, finding nothing visually abnormal; only their intuition was what kept them sharp and keen. The winds were stiff with silence and pressed against her chest forming goosebumps on her skin. When they reached the center between a half dozen mounds, her breath caught in her throat.

Maul was the first to stop with a fierce and wild visage and ignited both ends of his lightsaber. He swiped at a mound and it crumbled easily into a pile. Both had hoped the seconds of nothing meant he had been wrong, but a steel cable shot out of the pile and coiled around his wrist with the saber.

In the mound beside her, Móni dodged a cable and two more followed which she swirled and twisted away from. Maul stopped one that aimed for his other limb but halted it midflight with the Force and yanked it out to an empty end. He dropped the lightsaber to his free hand as he was being dragged toward the pile and severed the line.

“I think I may know who these guys are,” Móni lit her lightsaber and went into the same form as her master: legs outstretched with a firm foundation and saber ready to switch into defense or offense before her. “Fought them on the Secutor Destroyer. Not your average stormtrooper.”

Having known the location of one who attempted to capture him, Maul raised the unusual lump in the snow for a squirming range trooper and he brought their chest fast through his blade.

He tossed the limp body to the side, “A slight upgrade to their gear means nothing to me.”

Móni pulled at the back of his cloak and she steeled her nerves in the wake of combat, “Stay close.”

Startled from the forceful touch, Maul nearly tripped over himself as he was pulled back and shot a glare she pretended not to notice. It took a certain amount of effort to bite back her chuckle as she gathered The Force around her and pushed it out several meters to blow away the “mounds” that housed several troopers.

Their disguise uncovered, all five rose around them and fired with blue rings of stun bolts.

“They want us alive. Or you, specifically,” Móni guarded herself against them and Maul protecting her back.

A grunt of indifference was all he expressed on the matter, “They can try.”

She lifted a range trooper and had them collide with their comrade then jumped at them to slice at their tangled bodies. Maul jumped and twisted over and behind one trooper and cut their body in half, then hurled his lightsaber in a spin at the other two and severed their heads simultaneously. He recalled it with the Force and bent to search the trooper’s torso at his feet.

The ISD, as far as it was, Móni couldn’t help but feel being watched by it. She focused on the winds that carried the snow’s loose particles, the ashes of the burnt settlement the Imperials had conquered the night before, and a high whistle of crafts she had battled in endless numbers.

Maul rose with the Imperial soldier’s commlink and tossed it to the ground, “They know we’re here.”

“They’ve sent TIEs,” she marched over to him with her hands on her hips. “Think you know what we gotta do.”

He searched through her visor with many questions and no answers he could conclude on his own. The attempt was rather charming, and she allowed her internal torment to slide off her back and enjoy the smile that took it all away. And he must have felt her change from how he critically scrutinized her.

“What are you implying?”

“Let’s fly!”

“No,” was his swift response and stomped ahead of her. “You will keep them at bay as I reach the speeder bike.”

Móni jogged to him to match his heated pace, “Do you know where it is exactly? I’m the one who left it there.” When he offered no counter she continued, “Also, they’ve probably been watching us for a good while if they set a trap for us. There may be more troopers lingering about waiting to set another one.”

“They can easily be taken care of.”

“I know but,” she hooked her hand at his elbow to turn him around. He did not flinch from the touch, but his mild shock was enough incentive for her to take her hand back which she wiped against her pant leg to still its tremor, “I’m not just here as your apprentice anymore. I’m also supposed to protect you, the leader of the Crimson Veil.”

Maul’s straight posture eased at the shoulders and he planted both cybernetic feet before her. The lines of anger were gone, and he looked upon her with full circles of gold, “How do you think I’ve reached this point as the leader of several crime syndicates? I have not gone through trials of starvation, betrayal, torture, and loss to have it end at the hands of my master’s pawns.”

For once, he spoke to her without undertones of fiery rage, but with genuine certainty and clarity. A small window of what he was without the hate and rage fueling his every action.

But…

“That’s nice and all, however,” Móni lifted a finger and pointed directly at the center of his chest, “you still don’t know where the speeder bike is.”

“If you had remembered its exact location,” Maul snarled, “instead of giving me a general area then we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“Can’t really blame me. Everything looks the same.” Móni exaggerated a stretch with her arms, “Plus I am a little tired still. You did say I needed rest.”

The TIEs’ vertical wings were making a clearer shape as they approached, but they were of little concern to Maul compared to her it seemed. And she reveled under his piercing stare as he tried to read her intentions. Móni had never been more pleased to have the helmet cover her broad grin.

“They’re getting a little close now,” she said with a hint of a melody to it.

He leaned back with a narrowed gaze, “You will do as you’re told.”

Móni stood still, holding her hidden grin and letting him stew in the suspense of not knowing what her plan of action was.

“Don’t want to.”

She gave him no time to react while she swept under his feet with the Force so he could fall back into her arms and lift his much wider form against her thinner frame. His weight was far heftier than what an average male his height should be due to the cybernetics, but it wasn’t enough to put a strain on her arms and much easier to manage than a barrage of heavy ion bolts.

He struggled out of her hold and shoved an elbow into her collarbone, “Release me!”

Naturally, Móni cackled at his pointless efforts and flew at a speed that could outclass the speeder bike they were reclaiming. Even in mid-flight, he continued to wiggle out of her grip, and she rose higher to prove her dominance at their current situation.

“Do you want me to drop you?”

“Yes,” he seethed. “A far better alternative than this humiliation.”

“Please. Don’t be such a baby,” the arm that was nestled under his legs warmed her from their heat. “Plus I get a personalized heater.”

At that, he inhaled sharply and may have held his tongue to resist a shout that could be heard for miles. Below pockets of range troopers climbed out of their white camps and fired useless bolts at them from their various distances.

“They had them spread out all over the place,” Móni scanned the bodies clad in white prepping to follow them. And the TIEs’ black forms that spotted the empty sky were nearly in full view. “We’ll be at the speeder bike before they—Ow!”

Maul crushed the hand under his knee by closing his steel legs over it and there was a satisfied quirk in his eye, “You’ve taken me far enough. Drop me off this instant.”

“I kinda need that hand to use my lightsaber.”

“You can manage with just one.”

“And I can crush your legs without much effort.”

Green bolts flew past her head as the TIEs finally made their advance. Móni quickly overlooked the area and found the silver peak of Avin’s electro-shock prod and descended in the general area she was almost sure their transportation was left. With her fast decline, she halted her landing by skidding her feet across the ground and created a wave of snow before them until they struck a hard object that flipped them over and sent them hurtling into the cold, white slush.

Móni wiped her visor clear to see a throttle and rear cowl of a speeder bike peeking out from a blanket of snow.

“There it is!”

The TIEs flew overhead and fired shots at them, barely missing their (Maul’s) mode of transport. At her side, Maul flipped back the tail of his coat that cascaded over his head and removed what snow he could beneath his face mask. He hardly noticed the explosion of ice from the bolts that rained over them and his lips were pressed in a firm, thin line.

“Go and get a head start while I deal with…,” she bit her lip shut when he side-eyed her with a deep frown of raw displeasure and exhaustion. “Yeah. I’ll just…”

She rose to the heavens and slashed at a starfighter’s wing, sending it spiraling behind Maul who neither looked her way nor glanced at the close call.

Unlike his usual manner of snarls, scoffs, and sighs when she performed her stunts, he was silent. A loud, raging silence that heated the air.

Think I may have gone too far this time?

-

Maul lifted the speeder bike out of its burial with the Force and swiped away the excess snow from the seat. He checked its systems and it took several seconds longer than it should for the panel to glow to life for him to run a diagnostic on its state. A diagram displayed glowing red parts that have been frozen from the blizzard then punched the settings to warm the machine and thaw its parts. He leaned back against it with arms crossed and waited—turning a deaf ear to the bolts and a lightsaber’s hum above him.

Contact was a strange concept, but the apprentice did it easily. If he had any say in the matter, which she gave him none, he would avoid it altogether. Maul was careful to maintain a barrier between himself and other life forms, keeping gloves on at all times. It was only with her did the rules change. He still recalled grazing his thumb over her arm when he awoke her from the locked memory and his neck tensed every so often from the phantom biceps that grazed its skin from the tight embrace. And he continued to struggle with an internal conflict if he hated how it felt or not.

How touch felt. He hated how it made him feel: Lost. Naïve. Baffled.

Wanting.

But being in her arms was too close for too long. He could still feel the imprint of her hand wrapped around his shoulder and his side pressed against her body. And for a moment he forgot his nature to retaliate and marveled at her speed and strength along with her firm grip that ensured his security; which he didn’t need.

Kast’s doing, no doubt. The overprotection.

Their landing made him question if the apprentice was even capable of it. Maul rubbed his brow from a pulse behind the eye that marked the beginning of a headache only she was skilled enough to give him. When he shut away from the white world and battle in the sky, instead of focusing the throb away, sweet spice wafted over his senses and only worsened the ache.

“Maul,” she spoke over his commlink with haste. “You got troopers inbound.”

He heaved a sigh through his nose and checked the panel for the speeder bike’s progress and it was nearly complete. As he stepped up over a mound, he ignited his lightsaber and deflected the blue rings and lifted two of them by the throats to collide against three others. Then he brought a downed TIE over their heads, crushing them all.

When the speeder bike alarmed its completion, he set his goggles and rode off toward the mountain range that would serve as a barrier between the all-seeing ISD and their goons.

“I’ll be scouting ahead,” her voice rung from his wrist then sped past overhead.

She swooped down to her right and a mass of red bolts shot out until they slowed into single blasts, then nothing. The apprentice shot out again then veered towards her left where there was another array of red bolts.

“Hey,” she huffed with the loud fires of blasters in the background, “there are some coming in hot on their own speeder bikes behind you.”

“Continue assessing the area, I will take care of them.”

“Alright.”

Maul eyed the woman lifting off the ground once again who glanced his way before continuing forward. Her voice turned meek and for a moment he had thought her good cheer had returned. As amusing as her questionable mood earlier was, the warmth of her aura was something he had been accustomed to and found any other form of temperament abnormal. And she had been acting highly peculiar.

The whistling speeders crept into hearing range and over his shoulder, Maul ascertained five. Their bikes were better suited for ice planets and gained on him more readily, which, for him, only meant an acceleration of their deaths.

With one hand he stabilized a throttle and illuminated his saber with the other as he deflected the bolts and waited for them to gain on him. When they were several feet away from his tail, he braked hard and slashed at one bike as they sped past, hurtling them out of his way.

Two slowed and pinned him between them. One raised their rifle and the other their vambrace which shot out a whipcord he caught and yanked the trooper to him so he could bash their head against his speeder. The other attempted to stun him, but Maul leaned away from the ring and Forced choked them before pushing them off the seat. He finished off the one he hit by bringing his lightsaber upon them.

The two ahead rolled thermal detonators behind them and he was a second too late to veer away. He braked and angled the speeder bike on its side, his right leg sliding against the ground, and released his hold so the vehicle would take the brunt of the destruction.

In the smoke of the explosion, the two troopers rounded back at him and fired their whipcords simultaneously which Maul deftly sidestepped away and severed their lines with his red blades. He lifted one off the speeder bike with the Force and used them as a shield against a stun ring, then ran them through the chest before tossing the dead body aside.

Maul shut off his lightsaber to clasp it back onto his belt and bent his knees in preparation for the final trooper. When they circled closer, he leaped onto their hind seat and twisted their head with a delightful crack then shoved it off.

Content to have a speeder bike better suited for the terrain, Maul revved the engine and shot across the lands at its full speed. He searched through the empty skies to his left and right, but there were no signs of the apprentice or sounds of blaster fires. The worst was taken under consideration and his grip on the thrusters tightened in the same way his chest did.

“I think the ground area is clear for now. But we got more TIEs coming,” the apprentice’s smooth voice released his breath until it turned into an accusing tone, “What happened to my speeder bike?”

“Are they far enough we will be reaching the mountains in time?” Maul searched for her as he spoke.

“Right above you, Master,” he could hear her smile and directly above him was her slim figure waving at him. “We should make it in time. Are we going to hideout there and wait them out?”

“No,” he quirked his mouth to a scowl from the much larger target on their back than he had anticipated. “We will travel through the mountains.”

“Sounds fun.”

If only. It was a dangerous route but continuing in the flatlands would only leave them open to the Imperials. At least they could lose them in the winding paths, various crevices, and deep caverns of the massive range.

The Imperial speeder bike was left hidden beneath boulders and a mound of snow at the base of the mountain to throw off where they began their ascension of the winding slope. The steep incline added some exertion, but they leaped onto hanging cliffs or flattened areas until they reached a pass nestled between two rising summits. From their vantage point, they had the endless sea of white with no end or beginning, and just the faintest silhouette of the ISD and growing specks of the starfighters.

“I didn’t really have a chance to take a good look at the view even with all my flying,” the apprentice was in awe of the endless expanse.

Having seen it before, Maul found no beauty in the scenery, but he did not forget how and where the woman was raised most of her life. Still sore from their previous interaction he moved on and swallowed back the conversation, afraid of provoking a bout that could lead to her making another haphazard and bombastic decision.  

His lip curled back at the very emotion, and towards her. Maul had never been frightful of the apprentice, even with all her power, but to be touched in such a way again did not settle well with him. Maul could not risk his feelings tilting out of balance during a pivotal time and she had sent it all askew. He only had the battle against the Imperial soldiers to thank for realigning himself, but to happen again would send him spiraling down a dark hole he would find to be more difficult to come out from.

At his sides, his fists tightened to the extent his knuckles bulged out of the material.

Focus on the anger. It was bubbling up his throat ready to lash if she chose to make another stunt.  

And what terrified him most of all was how he hungered for more. Not just her touch, but the comfort and familiarity that came with it.

Chapter Text

Móni ogled at the frosted stones that shimmered softly from the gray afternoon and the twinkling icicles she often hovered at to touch their smooth texture. She studied the sparse plant life that grew; mainly sheets of moss and lichen on bare stones, and scattered patches of sedges and forbs. Gigor was a wondrous planet, but it wasn’t the sun’s hot rays she missed most—it was color. Every turn was always the one palette rather than the shades of greens and browns that would accentuate the fauna’s array of brighter schemes. It hadn’t yet been a week and she had become homesick.

Without the adrenaline of combat to warm her blood against the sharp winds when they blew through the narrowed pass, Móni hardened her jaw from shattering and swayed her arms to add more movement as she walked. With Maul leading, she took over footprints duty and regularly swiped the snow over their tracks.

His silence pressed down on her chest. And in their hours of travel, she flexed her tongue to push the words out, but they never got past her throat. She wanted to deduce on her own what exactly angered him so, but she could only come up with the usual: her being her. But the depths of his need for solitude ran much deeper, and Móni knew there was no way to know unless she asked. And that was to say if he would respond to her at all.

Was I insensitive? One didn’t have to be his apprentice to gather he wasn’t one for intimacy and she may have overstepped her bounds with a harmless carry. Or not harmless.

She smoothed a hand along the side of the helmet in the same way she would rub her actual scalp from the frustration.

“Did you,” Móni forced out whatever came to mind—anything to break the tension between them, “want to hear how I first contacted the Rogue Jedi? Or him me.”

Not even a tilt of his head or a shift in his shoulders to demonstrate any sort of intrigue. But he had to be listening, Right?

“It happened during the same time I used the Dark Side,” she added in hopes to garner a reaction of the most strenuous part of his training, and one he failed time and time again because of her refusal. And not even that was enough to give him pause.

This is bad.

Móni tapped the side of her leg, “It was when you sent me to reclaim Vos’ vessel in the Unknown Regions. The Dimachaeri trapped me on a ship set to detonate with no means of escape, except the viewport,” she recalled without fondness. “So, I shattered it and spaced myself.”

She collided against Maul’s back when he halted fast, causing her to stray off his course and slide her foot on the frozen stone and fell flat on her back. She rubbed her sore bottom, but her other hand slipped and bruised her elbow against the solid ground.

“I’m really starting to hate all this ice.”

“You did what?” he didn’t bat an eye at her struggle on the verglas and shadowed over her thinner frame.

“Didn’t expect that to get your attention,” she mumbled under her breath, searching for a good hold to lift herself off the sleek floor. “You wanna maybe help…,” her words drifted at the safe distance he kept between them with his hands placed firmly behind his back. His snarl and heated stare, however, were stricken with fury.

“What?” Móni wondered with confusion.

“You spaced yourself?” he spoke with disbelief.

Tired of her hands and feet flailing about, she lifted herself upright with the Force and set herself down with care, “Yeah?” she failed to see the issue. “But that’s not important,” she waved away the aged memory of panic and claustrophobia. “While I was weightlessly spinning around in the black void I,” she had forgotten hearing Maul during the time. A glimpse of his past. On another rotation maybe, “I was taken or shown (I can’t tell anymore) to a gray planet surrounded by red mist and he screamed something I didn’t understand. It felt horrifying. Like all the galaxy’s pain and sorrow collected in that one part of the universe.”

Her breaths were shallow from the recollection and she shook her hands to release their paralysis. When that wasn’t enough, she rubbed them together in a form of self-comfort. Móni’s tongue was stiff while trying to formulate her next sentence and swallowed a thick lump.

“Uh. Yeah. What happened after?” she had noticed then the darkening sky that cast a stark shadow over them. “Then I used that fear and anger and helplessness and… truth to pull myself toward the ship,” she clapped her hands, happy to be done and rid of what Maul had been waiting to hear. “And, I think he was part of the problem when I meditated. If he knows I’m opening myself to the Force, he takes advantage and pushes his way through to speak whatever cryptic nonsense to me. Dreams too.”

Móni meant to meet her master’s eyes, but they were hooded and focused to the side as he mulled over her words. And she waited. Desperately waiting to arouse conversation with him again. But he spun around and continued onward, which left her standing alone with utter defeat and a sinking heart.

“It is getting dark,” he spoke softly over his rigid shoulder. “We need to find shelter.”

A decent start if any.

They nestled under an overhang without a fire which Maul explained would compromise their location. A decision that had Móni wonder if it was made with the intention to make her suffer. Because it worked. To help alleviate some of the cold, she stomped to crack the verglas and made a circle of iceless stone for her legs. The effort may have been futile, but she pretended it made a difference. Her hands covered the larger slits in her liner and lightly moaned to herself at the inability to cover the one on her back.

Maul sat several paces away with his hood covering his face and arms crossed. It was unlike him to say nothing about the Rogue Jedi; he had clearly been shocked at her first mention of the name. She hung her head and vexed a loud exhale.

“Can you tell me what upset you? Your ominous silence is killing me,” and he had no idea how much so.

His head shifted slightly, but not enough to see his profile, “I am always in a state of anger.”

Móni scoffed at the normalcy of his tone, “No kidding. But you’re never this quiet about it.”

There was a sigh mingled with his weariness, “Go to sleep.”

“I can’t. It’s too cold.”

He stilled in a moment of deliberation before shrugging off his coat and extending it to her, his gaze focused on the space between his feet. Somehow, she found the chivalrous gesture undeserving.

“I don’t want it,” Móni said flatly.

It was enough to raise his head and stared at her with bright ferocity. He tightened his grip on the fabric and spoke with a strain in his throat.

“Why?”

“I’d rather know what I did wrong than take that.”

Maul dropped his hand as if he had grown tired of lifting the object and left it between them before showing his back to her.

Móni hardly glanced at what would physically block the cold, because it was not the type of warmth she wanted. His flares of anger, snarls, and backtalk was what she sought, not the steaming silence of hidden rage with undertones of fear and unease. And it hurt all the more to know she was the cause. But shutting himself away while stuffing her into a corner also ignited red sparks in her stomach and burst to her throat. She removed the helmet, her essential barrier against Gigor’s chills, so every note could get through to him.

“You know,” she worked her jaw to keep from raising her voice, “If you tell me, I can guarantee it won’t happen again. Otherwise, I can’t promise that it won’t.”

The only motion he gave was the steady rise and fall of his shoulders. Móni pursed her lips and shrugged. The next best thing to do was play the guessing game until something struck a chord. And she was almost certain of one thing based on tidbits of his past she had gathered. To be Palpatine’s apprentice, she wondered what exactly it entailed. Maul’s obsession with revenge, planning, and dominating with no room for a personal life—if it was a lesson embedded into every function of his being and life.

“Have you ever had a moment of intimacy? Like a hug?” His stone body against her was a feeling she would never forget. “Holding hands?” He struggled with the concept of linking arms when she lifted them out of the Andelm beetle mines. “A kiss?” The ghost of Ravi’s lips lingered on hers and she pushed down the grief it came with.

Every question was asked almost in accusation and it was like striking a hammer on a steel plate, forming it into place. His shoulders rose above his neck and the material over his hands strained from how tight he clenched his fists. An inferno erupted in the frigid night and sucked away the planet’s oxygen that left Móni breathless and still. Maul whirled at her with coat in hand and shoved it against her face.

“Shut up,” he heaved a heavy steam of anger with eyes more crimson than gold locked onto to her, then hissed, “and sleep.”

He turned on his heel and took the storm with him into the darkness.

Móni wasn’t sure how long she stared at the spot where his silhouette faded or how long she held his scent to her lips. Her heart was raging behind her breast and she couldn’t tell if it was of fear or exhilaration. A smarter woman would take heed of the violence he plagued the area with, but she got her answer. It may have cost their growing relationship, hardly complete and still in the works, but she understood. And that meant more to her than discovering her purpose.

She rubbed the hood of his coat with her thumbs and blinked back the prickle behind her eyes.

Móni was raised by mothers who loved and cared for her deeply.

A lasat who loved her for who she was and thrived in her happiness.

Kyp who she knew looked up to her as an older sibling.

Even Zione. He couldn’t bear to talk to her knowing she was being used by Maul. He simply cared too much.

And Avin and Myn who weren’t influenced by their clan’s opinion of her and judged based on their own perceptions.

Maul had a brother who was killed by his own master. There was also the brief mention of his mother he spoke of once and who Avin mentioned in passing when he broke down Maul’s jailbreak at the Separatist prison to her. It seemed he had only known her briefly.

In the months they’ve spent together, she had only gathered fragments of any semblance of who he was; assumptions and guesses to fabricate something in her imaginings of her master. But the pieces weren’t enough. She wanted more of him.

The morning came with a brighter sky and a slight rise in temperature Móni’s skin tickled with pleasure at, and alone. She lingered on the spot Maul sat at before he marched off in a heated whirl of force, concern tightening her torso. But she placated her worries when he had proved himself capable of navigating the planet more than she ever could.

She unpackaged a ration bar and chewed the bland stick with a disgusting effort. Her head hung at the dust grinding against her tongue, she breathed deeply for her sorry self, then choked and coughed on the powder that got trapped in her throat and accepted her timely death at the hands of the galaxy’s worst mass-produced product for being such an insensitive harpy.

“I need a bath,” she moaned in desperation for hot water and steam.

Móni blew a lip trill and rubbed her thighs at the obvious canyon of a gap she put between them, swiped away a curl from her face, then rose from the small comfort she had warmed with her body heat to go in search of a master or enemy.

And she did not have to look very far, for there he was several feet down, one leg hanging over the ledge and the other bent close to his hunched form. When he sensed her, he made his way up a rocky path to take them back onto the pass.

One hand gripped the fabric of his coat she had on and the other tightened around the helmet under her arm.

It was so much worse than before. There was no anger. No fear. No hatred.

Maul had completely closed himself off from her.

-

His breaths drowned his footfalls and there was a haze of red outlining his vision. He paced along the ledge, mere inches away from teetering over to his death, but he paid no mind to the possibility or it was he purposefully took in the thrill of being so close and conquering it.

She’s! She is! There were no words. Intrusive, maybe. Bold.

The woman knew where to strike without remorse, but this time was different. She exposed him and with an undertone of mockery. The muscles of his arms strained under the skin from the intensity of his grip and the nails dug into his palms even with the thick material over them.

It wasn’t even her words or how she said them that constricted his chest and throat, it was allowing himself to be affected by them at all. Because why did it matter? Intimacy was a weakness. A distraction. As her master he should have instilled a lesson about such mediocrities, thus avoiding conversations from ever happening again. Instead, he said nothing as she prattled on about things beyond his understanding.

Maul put his hands flat against the stone wall and bowed his head between his arms, stopping himself from pacing at the same speed as his whirling thoughts. And why did it matter if he understood or not? There was nothing to fathom about information meant to be rendered useless.

He pressed his hot head to the cool surface and tensed at the sharp drop in temperature that cleared some of the fog to reveal a bit of clarity.

It matters because…, he slid to the ground and crossed his cybernetics to do the only thing he knew how to mend the fractured emotions. He buried himself under denial and delusions to forget the skipping hearts. The spring in his stomach. And the shame that crawled beneath his skin and ground his teeth at his own feelings betraying him.

The only remedy to the abysmal ordeal was to separate himself, in distance and their apparent Force connection. What was once a fine, singular divide to their roles as master and apprentice were blurring and breaking off into different directions he was powerless to repair, because of her. Always, always her. She was the guiding hand in his internal torment and utterly relentless in provoking dormant desires he refused to acknowledge.

Was the conniving insect right on her scheme of manipulation? That this was all part of some greater plan to lower his defenses? Maul wasn’t sure anymore, but the apprentice had become irreplaceable. Important.

A weapon, he reminded himself. A weapon who was prepared to give her life for him, and he couldn’t even allow that.

He put his palms over his eyes, I am getting attached. A precarious device of the Dark Side if not handled correctly. Master wasn’t attached to him. Maul was readily cast aside once he outlived his usefulness to make way for the apprentice Sidious always wanted. And the woman was the apprentice Maul sought for. The only attachment that mattered was power, and that was what she was.

It was quiet high in the mountains. He listened to the peace that rode on the winds and over his winter garb. The decision wasn’t one he made lightly, but there was no other way about it when they were to be so close in the coming weeks. For the sake of his sanity, he needed to mask every shred of emotion from her omniscient capabilities. Not a simple act and not something he had done since his covert operations as an apprentice, but he was willing to put his Force abilities to the test to focus on their departure and not her.

Now his only concern was what the woman’s reaction to it would be.

The apprentice was not as skilled in mountain climbing as he would have liked. She tripped over minor crevasses he had been mindful to pass over, but she failed to follow suit… often. There were also a few missteps where she slid off their path and could have been injured or worse if she didn’t have the ability of flight, and each time she flew back her bitter mood increased. He had almost snapped at her to simply hover the rest of the way and stop losing time, but when she came up with the idea on her own she sighed in frustration from switching back and forth between walking and flying to avoid overhangs and squeezing through crevices; thus deciding to simply trek the journey.

In moments of easy travel along a ridge or pass she tested the holoprojector’s connection and took her string of curses as a failure, but she held onto what little hope there was and tried as often as she was able to.

As for her emotions, Maul did his utmost best to avoid sensing any of it. But in times of a great surge she shared unabashed when she floundered about, there was mainly annoyance prickled with hate and tinges of guilt laced with deep sorrow.

And hurt.

He steeled his hearts, turned it cold as the weather, and pressed forward with longer strides and deeper steps.

It’s easier this way, he kept telling himself, but the compression on his lungs spoke otherwise, which he blamed the high altitude for.

They came along a new area of the mountain where they made a sizeable dip closer to the snowline and had an open view of the ocean to the northeast. Chunks of ice jutted out from the ground and some were tall enough to form a barrier along the path they were on. The apprentice took her time to stare at the horizon and admired the sun reflecting off the translucent, blue stones. Even as miserable as she was, the woman never ceased to be in awe of the various sceneries Maul would normally pay little mind to.

There were moments he would consider her a fair distance away when she paused to admire the details with the pads of her fingers, stroking the elements in thorough consideration of its novelty and beauty. It was probably the only time she didn’t mind the cold to simply feel nature with the skin of her hands. The act was hypnotic, how much care she put into the environment, and a trait learned from the Force when she was young.

An odd lesson. Rather than teach her useful techniques of protection and combat it chose how she could connect with it through lifeforms. The apprentice would even stop for a blade of sedge or a stone with a particular shape to it; anything that carried a fragment of existence.

Her hand massaged the grooves and rounded edges of a slab of ice, rubbing off the excess snow built over it. Some stuck to her fingers and she raised it to her visor with intense curiosity. She proceeded to remove the helmet, the tip of her nose and cheeks were a subtle shade of rose when she licked the white powder with the tip of her tongue. Her lips smacked together then construed to the side and nose shrunk with mild disapproval.

Maul held in an air of laughter in his throat and forced his mouth to remain stoic. When gleaming orange circles darted at him, he twisted around and continued to find an ascent to the ridge.

On the following rotation, the apprentice could no longer contain herself. Although, he had to commend her for lasting so long.

“You know, this whole silent treatment isn’t going to do either of us any good.”

They scaled the mountain higher than the previous day, but not as high Maul would have liked. The journey was becoming more strenuous than he wanted and with the apprentice prodding his side with pointless jabber was adding oil to already rousing flames. Instead of scorching her with words, he focused hard on the height of the nearest summit.

She cursed at him and her steps crunched loud to his position to put herself directly before him, blocking his view.

“I’m talking to you.”

“You are,” he scanned past the visor before making his way around her.

The woman choked on her insult and he was lashed with a wave of fury, “So this is how it’s going to be every time I burst your personal bubble? Put yourself through this stupid, petty, moody outburst? Put us through this?”

Maul worked his jaw and searched for another point of interest to keep from answering. He could not deny he was putting a strain on the trust they had been building, but he would not subject himself to that form of fear again. The type he could not control with her so near every second of the day.

“We will speak on this matter another time,” he met her eyes as he spoke, not realizing she had removed the helmet to showcase her bright rage against him. Against herself. And by the stars and planets, he did not want to admit what a relief it felt to see her face as he spoke. How much lighter his body was, cybernetics and all.

She made some show of exaggeration with her arms and made her contempt as obvious as she could, “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Woman,” he growled under his breath, “there are more pressing matters to be concerned about. Like the Imperial target on our backs and a mountain to trail without getting ourselves killed. And by getting us killed, I mean you.”

“Oh,” she raised her brows in a faux offense. “Then I’m the only problem here and not you?” She closed their distance. Her curls have flattened from the lack of care and the helmet they’ve been stuffed under, and he could make out spots of slight discolor under her jaw and temple from the TIEs she battled. A sign she hadn’t taken any stims besides the one he gave her on their first night. That fact somehow annoyed him more than their proximity.

“You’re the only one who insists on broaching the subject,” Maul glared at his rounded prosthetic feet and felt a sneer rising at the corner of his mouth, “for reasons I cannot comprehend why.” He breathed in deeply and removed the face mask to showcase at least a portion of his emotions to her, in hopes she would hint at ceasing the conversation. “Not only do you ridicule me, but you press into matters that do not concern you or affect your apprenticeship in any way. All you gain is your curiosity being satiated.”

“That’s not what I,” she faltered into fuming silence. The air quivered and the mountains shook from the Force bowing to her will. Small rocks rolled and snow drifted down the slopes, a cause for alarm but the apprentice was too focused on him to notice. “You can’t stuff what you don’t want to feel into a corner and pretend it’s not there. I didn’t really strike you as a coward but seeing the Sith are dominated by fear I’m not too surprised.”

Maul released the pent up fire swelling within and the woman jolted from the sheer amount that could suffocate, “This isn’t a matter for debate. You are crossing a line that shouldn’t ever be crossed. Speaking of things that make you weak and pathetic. As an apprentice, your sole purpose is to assist me with bringing down Master’s Empire and that is all. Do not forget your place and allegiance.”

Her lips tugged into a frown and her brows creased upward with deep concern. The glimmer in her eyes dimmed, but not the Force she was surrounded with. It ruptured and fractured in a way he had never felt before. The pain that bled out pulled down the sky, silenced the winds, and shook the mountains. There were many things Maul should have been concerned about from the tremors, but all he could wonder was how he had caused such agony.

She’s known, and yet, it hurt her.

“Do you want to know why I pry?” In her grief came anger and it pressed down against his own. Greater. Stronger. “Why I bother trying, knowing you would turn away from me?”

He swallowed down a lump in his throat and stood against her emotions with his own, refusing to be overpowered.

It’s affecting me, and he didn’t know if she was flexing on purpose or she had suddenly forgotten how to control herself. It seeped through his pores and into his bones and he did not care. He did not care how he made her ache or how Gigor ached with her.

“I do not,” Maul forced out and had just noticed he had been breathing out his mouth from the weight of her intensity. “You need to stop tormenting yourself with useless things and cast them aside. You will never reach your potential if you continue down this path.”

Why? He had speculated for so long. Why was she so aggressive about drawing out his past and connecting with him on a personal level? It was unwarranted. Needless. Distracting. Amiable.

But the apprentice wasn’t one to follow orders and opened her mouth to speak the words he dreaded to hear, “Because I want to understand you.” Her voice raised in a plea and he saw it again. The yearning. “Not the Sith or crime lord or master. Just Maul. I want to know who he is.”

Maul worked his mouth, hoping something would come out to give a response. But his jaw moved slow and he couldn’t keep his gaze away from the apprentice.

“Every time I think I understand you...,” he barely managed with a raw voice from a tight throat. “What do you want from me?”

Everything he tried so hard to avoid the past few rotations unraveled and spilled at their feet. The confusion. The fear. The anxiety. They came out bare for her to feel and it was humiliating and liberating. And being brought to such a level riled his own fury that burned his eyes and stifled her raging winds.

“Do you seek to weaken my resolve and take over the Empire for yourself once you reach the power you seek?”

“What? No!” She shrilled and put her hands to her forehead with disbelief.

From deep within he bellowed every inch of his frustrations, “Then tell me now what your goals are so I can at least prepare myself for another one of your anarchic ploys.”

“I’m not manipulating you into anything,” her voice raised at his level with arms thrown up toward the sky. “Not everyone who shows you some sort of sympathy has an ulterior motive. Maybe some of us are being honest!”

“There is always a motive! It is the way of every sentient in the galaxy where everything is done for a personal gain. It is what the Dark Side feeds from. Why it is so powerful because there is always fear, anger, and hate.”

“Here we go again, back to the Dark Side,” she exaggerated a swoon with her body. “There’s more to life than what you were taught! Don’t you see that? Or do you want to be chained to your own suffering your whole existence and never experience happiness?”

“I will be content once we take down his precious apprentice before his eyes,” Master’s face flashed in his mind’s eye. Writhing in pain and suffering under his power. “Watch him regret throwing me away when I could have ruled the galaxy by his side. Then take the old man’s throat and end his life with these very hands.”

“Take it from someone who did get their revenge. I didn’t feel any better when I killed Druan and Ravi could have cared less about him living or dying.”

“Because you are not Sith. You wouldn’t understand the capabilities of revenge. It was what kept me alive after I had been severed by Kenobi,” he bit on the name he had not spoken in years, the red haze blocking out any of his good sense of composure. And it didn’t matter because he wanted to lash. To vent. The only thing that could make it better was to have a stormtrooper to decapitate. “I require nothing else.”

“If revenge is all you need then why am I here? Why am I here for you to understand, but I can’t understand you? You who put your hands into every dirty corner of my life, ask questions about me which you practically force me to answer, and help me when I’m at my lowest. What do you gain from all that?” She jabbed a finger into his shoulder that left a searing imprint and shoved him.  

“To extort the source of your hate so you may use it to draw upon the Dark Side,” was his swift response.

“That’s a lie,” she quirked her lips to the side in a taunt that bristled his skin and flared his nostrils.

Because it was a lie. The truth came so simply to him and he was cycled back to why they reached this point in the first place: the need to understand one another.

“And you?” He pointed two fingers at her and shifted the argument, “I know you’re hiding something from me, and I will expose your secrets until there is none left. Until you are entirely mine to control.”

“Sure! Go ahead! Find out and I promise you’ll regret it. But do I get to expose yours or this one of those one-sided deals again?”

“Why do you care to know?” His roar echoed in the crevices and crannies of the mountain and out into the ocean breeze. He heaved clouds of his hot breath and felt completely crazed and so unlike himself, which he had been losing less and less of since the woman came into his life. And she had skewed it in so many ways he simply had no idea how to untangle the knots of their relationship. He was weary of it all. He had more strength to battle an army of Imperials than handle a single human female.

The apprentice’s Force energy exploded, and the sunset hues of her eyes turned a shade darker. There was a physical crack of ice above that set off a cause for concern, but Maul couldn’t discern the source of vibrations riding up his cybernetics and to his abdomen; if they were done by the woman or something much worse.

“Because I--,” she ceased mid-shout and turned her attention to the summit above them.

A chunk of serac fell off the face of the mountain and was easily avoided, but not what came after. With a crack of thunder an avalanche rolled down faster than either could react, but the apprentice put herself before him and created a Force barrier to block the start of it. Her attempt created a window of mere seconds to put a hand to his chest and push him out of range.

Maul struck a wall, his horns saving his skull from the brunt of it and could do nothing for the apprentice who was being overpowered by a mountain of snow and her back arching over an ice stone that was splitting under the pressure of her and the avalanche.

He used the Force on the stone of ice, the only barrier between her falling into the depths below, holding it in place. The weight was immense as if he were holding the mountain itself, and his body was faltering. Deep breaths burned his nose, sweat built at his brow, and his fingers strained at holding her.

There was another thunderous boom, but he refused to let go or acknowledge the incoming disaster. Desperation clung his pounding hearts along with the refusal of her being taken away from him. Not by a mountain. Not by Master.

“Maul! You have to go! I can’t save the both of us!” Her voice just barely carried over the rush that clogged his ears. But he did not listen, all his focus and power were put into saving her.

Then she looked his way. Resolve set in her face and a smile that quirked in that usual way when she was up to some mischief.

He stopped breathing and the planet went silent, “Móni! No!”

It took one blink and he was vaulted into the air, her name still carried on his lips as he watched her being taken by a waterfall of snow. He steered his landing to a small ledge and skidded to a stop just at the edge. A metal clink resounded on the stone and by his feet was her helmet.

Heavy breaths came fast at the sight of it and Maul gripped it tight then cranked his arm back with the intent to fling out of his sight.

If the woman had the time to save the blasted helmet, then why…!

His arm fell back to his side, the steel bucket dangling off his fingers.  

No. The word repeated over and over in his head. She’s not…

Maul put the face of the helmet against his own and steadied his breaths. Then he proceeded to swallow the lump in his throat and halt the tingling in his nose. His eyes opened to a visor that did not hide a lovely pair of sunbursts but an empty shell instead. He breathed deep again, this time shakily, and exhaled through his mouth.

He slunk down onto the small space with crossed cybernetics and the helmet held in place at their center. Maul felt through the Force’s veil and searched for the energy that had become a customary part of his life, even linked to it. The faintest glimmer of her warmth was all he needed.

The helmet strained under his hold when minutes passed and then finally, he froze.

He jumped up and searched for a way to descend.

-

Móni struck sharp rocks, bruising her body then going numb from the cold. The snow blinded her, and her hand was extended for the slim chance to grasp onto anything she could. But nature’s power outmatched hers and it was taking all the oxygen, spotting her vision with black.

Stay awake. Stay awake.

There was a gap; a curtain parting for her. She pushed a hand through and drew herself out with the Force toward an object she could not see. The pull was slow and excruciating with the weight of a mountain bearing down on her arm, bending the bone, and straining her fingers and wrist. With a final haul, she flew herself out and slid into a cave.

She gasped for the return of air into her lungs. For a moment she couldn’t feel the ground under her fingers or a chill against her back. Her body was forced to move when a stone nearly crushed a limb, but when she tried to stand, she gasped a cry at a searing pain in her left ankle. With a gurgled grunt she lifted off the ground and hovered deeper into the dark depths while the cavern’s mouth collapsed.

Móni laid on her back breathing life into her body to calm the racing blood in her veins. She removed her boot, which the mere action made her whimper, and illuminated her lightsaber to inspect a swollen ankle bruised purple and black.

“Karkin’ galaxies,” she put a finger to the tender skin and withdrew fast from the screaming nerves.

After injecting herself with a stim and several agonizing minutes of returning her foot inside the boot, she hovered with lightsaber raised to venture forward.

The tunnel was endless, her muscles ached, skin burned (wet and sticky with blood), and her face was raw from being covered in frost. She heaved a sigh that put a slight tension in her ribs, another thing wrong to check off the list. And at the top of it was the resonant hum of anger she expelled earlier and made quite a dramatic show of that could have killed her and Maul.

“Stupid.”

All those lessons and she still couldn’t control herself; more of a reason to believe Maul was wasting time and effort on her. And it wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t start an argument that could have been avoided but pushed for anyway. Probably to get a rise out of him to see if there was something other than the black muck of emotions and was surprised to find an excessive amount of passion and confusion.

Móni winced when she bit her lip on a cut. She was pushing his boundaries and not in a fair way. Maul had been patient enough with her, yet she couldn’t seem to find the same amount of it within herself to tear down his walls.

“You just needed to apologize and be done with it,” was the intent, but she attacked him instead.

Her head struck a hanging rock and she cursed at herself, the cave, the Imperials, and the freezing planet. The stim was doing some work on her body, the burns on her face faded, the smaller wounds closed, and her ankle stopped throbbing. But the larger lesions stung some and when she set her feet on the ground, a sharp sting shot from the joint and up her leg.

The orange glow of her saber illuminated a dead end and she groaned and whined, “No…”

A draft grazed softly against her exposed skin from a hole she would have fallen into if she hadn’t been levitating. With no other options, she descended into another long and obscure channel.

During the passing minutes, Móni gravitated to her and Maul’s final moments before the mountain swallowed her. She wondered if he would spare the time to look for her after their little spat, but then again, he did declare his possession of her and wouldn’t dream of losing such a precious commodity. Although, she had doubts if he still would at the expense of his own life.

“Good riddance, then,” she mumbled without any real meaning to back them. “Don’t have to deal with your sour moods anymore.” But oh, did she enjoy them so.

The panic that reached her also stated otherwise. She didn’t know what to make of that or when he called out to her. By name? She wasn’t sure. Móni was barely able to make out her own voice under the deafening avalanche. But she had never heard Maul call her anything other than ‘apprentice’ or 'woman', so it was a fleeting figment of the imagination.

There was a circle of pale blue below and she allowed gravity to bring her closer to what she hoped was sunlight. However, all expectations were dashed when it was a massive cavern made of waves of ice. It glowed from the rays that shined outside, which meant she was but a few steps closer to exiting the mountain’s cavities. She blinked several times at the sudden change in scenery as if she were transported into some fantastical realm of azure transparisteel that glistened like precious stones.

With her bare fingers, she ran them along the smooth curves, reading its history. The area hadn’t had visitors in many years by the faint and distant traces of life that touched the walls. It had happily remained secluded from the outside world until an injured woman decided to fall in and break the peace. Móni also searched for any hints of a way out, but it was difficult to navigate through ancient shadows whose traces have been frozen over with time.

She clicked her tongue and continued probing around until she brushed against the black stones on the ground. A large creature passed by several rotations ago, and Móni couldn’t have asked for a better source to assist in her navigations than a native lifeform. Relief eased her muscles and she followed along, taken to a new clearing with skeletons littered across the ground and a potent scent of wet fur. The bones were of various sizes and manner of creature, including those with a humanoid frame to them.

“Homey place,” she tried to make light of the carcasses possibly being gigorans.

Careful not to snap any ligaments and stir a beast curled asleep beyond a pond and on a bed of death, Móni circled close to the edge of the rotund area keeping an eye for any exits.

There has to be one if that thing has been taking food from the surface.

There was nothing. Nothing but ice and stone and bones.

A wet sheen glistened off the white fur of the beast and it left a trail of imprints on the soft floor that began from…

The pond.

Móni crept to the edge of the pool and put one tentative foot into the still waters, dreading the pain she would have to endure to swim with a broken ankle. Her senses turned sharp when the Force pierced with something long and fast wiggling toward her foot. She pulled out and it was soon followed by a sea creature with a body like a snake and a long beak. It snapped its needle teeth at her leg and she deftly lit her lightsaber to sever its head and silence its thrashing.

She didn’t do it soon enough, for the beast stirred and yawned its massive ugly jaw, scarred and red, exposing four fangs and a purple tongue. It tilted its head back to sniff at the air from its two slits on a fleshy snout and turned its glowing acid green eyes fast in her direction; its lips quivering from the low and menacing growl.  

In a quick reflex, Móni forced herself through its barriers and into its mind. It screeched at the invasion, whipping its furless tail in a frenzy and scraped the ground with its claws. Flashes of blood, gigoran children being torn by their limbs, countless battles with some of the greater beasts of the land, and a hunger that has never been satisfied. She pushed further, being mindful not to mix their consciousnesses and lose herself. But she was close in breaking it, turning them braindead.

Its wails and stomps stirred the pond awakening several life forces and another one of those snake-like sea creatures shot out and aimed its wide jaw at Móni’s neck. She withdrew from the mind control and blocked with her arm, its teeth sinking into her skin and latched on. With a guttural shout, she put her hand onto the whipping body, concentrated on the organs and bones that made up its form, and crushed it with the Force. She pried its jaw open with a hiss and tossed its form back into the waters, which was then eaten quickly by smaller fish that thrashed the water violently.

“Well that’s definitely not an option anymore,” she winced at the deep puncture wounds in her arm.

The beast shook its head before it bent its muscular limbs, ready to pounce. Móni lifted off and sped back to where she came, but thick flesh wrapped around her bad ankle. She howled at the intense burn that struck her body still and was hurdled up against the ceiling, knocking the wind out of her, and flopped back to the earth.

There was a soft pat on the ground then silence, the winds splitting for the mountain’s ruler to take its prey. Móni discharged her lightsaber and held it before her to sear off a foreleg, but her heart stilled when the blood rushed to her feet. The skin of its foot withstood the saber as it pressed down against her, sizzling and steaming but not enough to make it relent. She sucked in a deep breath and battled against its strength with her own, raising it away from her chest. It stared at her with a glint of intelligence and pressed down its other foot against its own, bearing down a greater weight she struggled to hold. Purple tendrils of flesh sprouted from its ears and whipped around in excitement when they came inches away from touching her face, a bud at the end opened to expose a needle-shaped bone that dripped in liquid.

She concentrated on her inner Force, coiling it tight into a ball, then ousted the energy from her body in an explosive force that sent it flying back. It recovered quickly and approached her vicinity in two bounds, swiping its claws at her. Móni stepped away with swift agility and swung her saber at all four of its talons. It sniffed with indignation at its filed foot and rammed its head against her chest, sending her back against the wall. Her skull throbbed at the impact and left her dazed on the floor. With her vision blurred she relied on her fingers and the Force to feel its approach, but she was too weak to lift her weapon even when she knew how close it came.

Another source of life shook the Force above her, and she recognized its presence. Brooding, smooth, and powerful like the summer winds, worry trickled from his rage, and relief comforted her tense emotions. The tip of a red saber burned past the ice and made a circle that dropped with him on it.

Maul stood before the creature and Móni with both ends of his saber ignited behind him in an offensive form.

“Welcome to the party,” she grunted as she stood then hovered. “We got children carcasses, a pool of deadly sea creatures, and a host that’s hard to kill.”

He flicked a glance over his shoulder to snapshot her battered body, “Remain where you are.”

Móni held her side at the bruised rib that had gotten worse, but it didn’t falter her determination nor her duty to protect her master. She didn’t want to be more useless than how she already felt for causing the avalanche and became injured because of it.

“I can still help.”

Maul Force pushed the creature back when it leaped at him, then responded low and rough, “No, you have done enough.”

He should have punched her in the gut and leave her to be food for the beast; it would have done the same effect his words did to her. But he was right. She had done enough damage.

He spun away from a claw that swiped at him and attempted to sever the outstretched foot, which he then discovered the creature’s invulnerability to lightsabers. It did not affect his composure in any way and instead riled his rage even further at the inconvenience. He rolled under the whip of a tail then held it suspended before him with the Force as he swung down with a greater blow with his saber, scorching the skin and burying as deep as he could. The beast gripped the ground with its one clawed foot and roared its defiance against the hold, then put all its power into the rear of its body to swing its tail free and sent Maul flying.

Móni raised her hands to cushion Maul’s impact against the ice then dropped him with ease. He glanced her direction as her only indication of him noticing before returning to the creature who charged at him. With a new tactic in the works, he slid under and out behind it to jump onto its back and bring the saber point first into its neck. His cybernetics gripped tightly to its shoulders as it reared and bucked, but Maul sneered at the effort while he dug the saber deep.

From where she sat, Móni gripped onto his lightsaber with the Force and assisted in pushing it down. She could feel the layers of fur and skin between the saber and muscles. Even with her capabilities, it wasn’t fast enough to drive it through when there was no telling how long Maul could last on the beast’s back. And the time shortened when those purple tendrils whipped out and opened their bulbs to strike at him.

She released her hold on the lightsaber for Maul to sever one with ease and a cry of pain from the beast bucked its body hard enough to shove off its rider. It spun fast then charged again with mouth agape to swallow him whole. Then Móni was struck with an idea and paralyzed the creature with the Force, its mouth still held open. Its battle against her hold strained her fingers and will, but she refused to be bested to do something right by Maul.

Maul slid before it with both hands on the hilt of his saber at the level of his hip, prepared to make an upward motion. The last of the beast’s tendrils, however, shot out and he grasped onto it with his hand before the needle could puncture a wound. He winced in pain despite that before he cut with his saber then continued his movement from before and thrust the red blade into the upper cavern of its mouth, the very tip of it exposed at the skull. Móni did not release her hold until Maul removed himself from its vicinity and felt the final beats of its heart.

She released the creature and it fell on its side; its life extinguished.

Maul clasped his lightsaber on his belt and inspected the hand that grasped onto the tendril with a furrowed brow and a watery glaze over his eyes. Móni touched his Force energy ever so gently and was at his side in an instant.

“Maul? What’s wrong?” She held her hands out, careful not to touch him even if they twitched to do so.

His breaths were shallow and sweat built at his brow and neck, soaking his liner. She reached for the hand he would not look away from but stopped from taking it into hers to examine the slit in his glove.

“I’m going to take a look okay?”

Maul said nothing but his expression tightened and although his focus was on his hand his thoughts were elsewhere. His back curved and he lurched dry coughs that brought him kneeling at Móni’s feet. He dry heaved from an empty stomach then vomited saliva and water.

She shoved down her insecurities and decided to risk a few more rotations of him shutting her out, then grasped his shoulders, “Maul, look at me. Can you hear me?”

His arms trembled under his own weight and collapsed into her arms. The heat of his face pressed against her cheek was sweaty and feverish, and his breaths became more ragged. She held him against her with one arm while the other worked to remove the glove and raise his hand to her eye level.

The air thinned when she stared at the oozing flesh of puss and rot from a mere scratch on his tattooed, black palm. Her lips were stiff when she murmured to herself, “Poison.”

She injected him with a stim to at least alleviate the fever, but it wouldn’t do much against poison from an unknown creature. Móni grasped the back of his shirt. Her eyes stung and clouded with water, and a sob was ready to break at the back of her throat.

No. I need to do something.

On their journey across ranges and passes, she touched what she could to memorize and learn about the planet and its inhabitants. And there had been faint traces of gigorans who traversed the same path they did, albeit, quite some time ago. Groups of them. Families. And the creature Maul killed devoured children and she couldn’t imagine it would go very far to do so.

Móni buried her head into Maul’s shoulder and breathed in his scent, “Help me,” she spoke to the entity that bound the universe together. “Show me where to take him and help me save him.”

The cavern shuttered under the weight of her emotions and to rival her control over it, “Or I swear to you I will kill your Chosen One if he dies.”

They came. Faint whispers of the galaxy and the dead. And she listened.

Chapter Text

Móni carried Maul’s weight on her back through a pass that deviated from the one they had been following the past few rotations. There were ledges that hugged the mountains, concealed crevices revealed only when approached at a certain angle, and areas meant to be climbed. Thankfully, she was capable of flight or it would have been a long and arduous journey with a broken ankle and a semiconscious zabrak.

She listened closely to his shallow breaths along the way, trusting they wouldn’t get worse. And on various occasions he would mumble incoherent words by her ear, an indication his fever was not breaking. There wasn’t a need to check for a temperature when he radiated steam of sickness on the side of her face and back, and when her cheek brushed his it burned.

Maul’s lips moved in a mumble, “Can I go out and play…?”

Móni blinked at his first coherent words in his feverish dream and wondered about the childlike request that served as another fragment of his past.

“We’re almost there,” she soothed into his ear.

His brows tugged slightly to its center then raised with recognition, “Durmónia.”

“Yes, I’m here,” she held her breath at the low rumble of his voice enunciating her name and wished she could hear it when he was in a conscious state. “I’m finding you some help, so hang in there, yeah? Otherwise, Crimson Veil will be on the list of people who want me dead, and I would rather deal with the Emperor than Rook any day.”

There was a faint tug at the corner of his lips before he receded to a disoriented lull. Móni adjusted him further up her back and made sure her hold on his legs was secure when she made a slippery descent on foot under an overhang too low for flight. She skated her feet along the verglas—pushing her tongue against the roof of her mouth at the burn that ran up her leg—then dropped onto a dry path aligned with black stones and surrounded by the mountain’s high summits. It was not a natural road, Móni surmised, but one made by sentients.

The Force’s whispers were a soft breeze that pulled on her curls in the direction the path led. She extended her senses outward and felt the rustles of plant life, critters crawling within the fissures, and a gathering of warm-blooded life forms deep within. Their spirited energy reminded her of the natives who took her into their homes before she betrayed them. After a hard swallow, she limped forth.

And she didn’t get very far in the narrow pathway of ice without the hairs on her arms and neck rising at the gigorans edging over the cliffs—spying on her. Their footfalls ghosted above her, leaving no traces of their presence for their uninvited guest to follow by ear but their disquiet emotions were loud enough for Móni to monitor.

She stopped several meters before an archway made of crystalized stone and sucked in a breath, “I’m not here to cause any trouble.” Their temperament was wary, most likely due to the invasion that had rocked the planet into turmoil. “I need help. My companion was poisoned by one of your indigenous beasts and needs a cure.”

Her voice strained from holding back the distress. His breathing pattern changed, Móni’s arms quivered under the powerful being inching closer to the Force’s greedy hands.

A gigoran landed before her, blaster canon raised at her, and the scar across the naked, gray skin that ran further beneath the vocoder mask stretched in distrust. A gale of putrid scorn whipped at Móni’s own faltering feelings and she was puzzled at its intensity toward her specifically.

“You’re not an Imperial,” he jutted the tip of his cannon at the helmet that hung off Maul’s hip by a steel cable.

“No,” Móni’s lungs constricted with unease. “We were making our way off-planet until we were attacked by Imperials when they began their blockade.”

The gigoran hummed a guttural sense of suspicion, “From where did you come from? There isn’t a city or outpost for weeks in the direction you came from.”

The interrogation struck a nerve and she slipped out her impatience, “I’m a hunter and came to this planet to learn from the second-best in the galaxy.”

“Second?” he sputtered, all suspicions tossed away. “Who do you dare place before us?”

“The devaronians.”

He paused in shock before scoffing a dry laugh, “Their traditions died centuries ago. Their males don’t hunt anymore but go sightseeing while leaving their broods and mates behind.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Móni had to unclench her jaw and quiet the temptation to Force push the gigoran and his lot off the mountain. “Please. His fever is getting worse.”

After a blink of his beady eyes, he motioned three others to peel away from hiding and appeared beside him, canons raised as well.

“Follow us,” he said brusquely and led her past the arch.

A gigoran offered to take Maul from her to help alleviate the extra weight on her ankle, but she moved away from their stretching fingers, “No. He stays with me.”

It was going to be a long and painful walk.

The homes were built into the mountains at several levels, lighting up the whole face with inhabitants that far exceeded Clan Nebak in numbers. It bustled with life and rather than thick meats in their inventories, their diet carried a surplus of seafood, berries, and green stuff. Some of the clan members wore steel adornments clasped onto their long, sleek fur, and the young braided sections of theirs.

“This way,” the same gigoran who gave Móni a warm welcome led her up a staircase built into the rock’s face. When no one looked their way, she hovered over the steps then returned to painful hopping when onlookers passed, and more than once her guide checked over his shoulder when he didn’t hear her labored huffs.

Built into a cavern was a cabin overgrown with moss and bright greens never seen on the monotonous planet. Its interior was just as bright, and she let her jaw go slack at the exposure of blooming life she could not believe existed in the frigid weather. And amongst the hanging leaves and purple petals was a female gigoran with a hunched spine and yellowing fur crouched on the ground grinding herbs with a pestle on marbled stone. Her guide went over to his frailer kin and spoke in their native tongue.

The older gigoran snapped her fingers and pointed at the ground before her then continued her herbal work, unaffected by the visitation. The air prickled with sparks of energy around the female and caressed against Móni’s which sent shivers down her spine. It wasn’t a threatening notion and felt more like a childish prod to seek attention.

Is she…? Móni stepped close and unloaded Maul from her back to lie him carefully over the fur blanket; eyes never leaving the elder who had yet to raise their head in any matter of greeting. And yet her milky eyes were unfocused at her kneading and at nothing.

She’s blind, it occurred to her.

The elder raised a hand to shoo the male gigoran away with a grunt of a single native word. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation to leave her alone with a stranger, and he left without another glance.

Móni watched Maul’s chest rise and fall in slow successions, ragged breaths blowing out between cracked lips, and his crimson tone was several shades lighter. She chewed on her lower lip with an uncontained eagerness to see his hand get treated as soon as possible, but the elder hardly noticed the two of them in her terrarium hovel.

After plenty a moment of listening to the grinding of stone against stone, Móni decided to push for some immediate action but was beaten to it.

“He’s going to be fine,” her gravelly voice spoke Basic with discomfort as she clicked her tongue at the “t” and “n’s” of the sentence. “A day later and he would be dead,” although her accent was rough to understand, her tone of indifference carried just fine.

“You knew we were coming,” Móni glanced at the herbs she was grinding. “You’re Force-sensitive.”

“Feh,” she waved a dismissive hand and gathered the green paste she made onto her fingers. “Unwrap that," she ordered.

Móni took Maul’s hand into hers, the weight of its size and thickness filling her thinner one, and undid the makeshift binding ripped from the tail of his coat. The first unravel secreted a rotten stench from the poison dissolving his skin and insides, growing worse the more cloth she took away to reach a nauseating wound that widened from the infection and dripped with white venom. She choked back a whimper at the sight but did not release her hold and held it for the elder.

The gigoran wiped away the wound’s secretion with her own hand before slathering the paste onto it. She bound it with a clean bandage then presented a marbled cup with a grunt and an inclination of her head toward Maul.

Móni reclined his torso against her body and pressed the cup to his lips.

“Can you hear me?” she murmured close to him and it caused a twitch in his face. “You need to drink this. It’ll help you,” she continued to tilt the cup and pour into his mouth, which he swallowed by the bobbing of the lump in his neck.

“You’re the ones who took Si’hen’s clan aren’t you?”

Blood drained turning her body numb while the cabin’s walls converged to suffocate her beating heart. The Force was at her command, searching every corner of the area and outside for an ambush or an extra life form waiting in the shadows to strike them dead. But when she considered the liquid she had given Maul, panic flooded her senses and exploded in a wave of energy.

And all the elder did was stare without expression and spoke with mild concern, “Quite expressive for a Jedi are we not?”

“Was this poison?” Móni cracked the cup in her grip and her trapped voice was barely above a whisper.

“And if it was? What would you do?”

The desire to crush the small object in her hand and release the Force wounded in her core and rippled in her muscles, prepared to level the cabin with a single burst. But Móni exorcised restraint and sensed the elder’s clear aura that held no currents of violence to suggest she had poisoned Maul. In fact, his shade of crimson returned.

Breathe, she reminded herself. “Do not let it control you,” he spoke with perfect eloquence and anger.

She set the empty cup down and considered the question with thought, “Do what I promised if he did die.”

“You wouldn’t kill me?” there was an inflection of surprise behind the cool façade.

“It would have been the Force’s doing, not yours.”

“What a very Jedi thing to say. But Jedi don’t steal settlements.”

Móni quirked an eyebrow at the faint twang of resentment. Like how Maul spoke about them, “I don’t know. They did help drive a war that turned the galaxy into chaos, so who’s to say?”

The elder narrowed her eyes and said nothing. The winds whistling through cracks of her home, the occasional clamor from outside, and Maul’s steady breaths were the only things brokering the silence.

“If I’m not going to kill you and you’re not going to kill us,” Móni began, holding Maul closer to her in preparation to lift him, “then what are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” she said as a matter of fact. She plucked several leaves that hung above her and picked at a purple flower’s petals to start grinding them. “No one knows who you are but me.”

“What’s stopping you from saying anything?” Her body was coiled to spring out of the room, but the elder had more to say with apparent disinterest.

“Tell me. Did you kill the kynegi that poisoned your companion?”

“He did,” Móni glanced at her master with hooded eyes brimmed with self-loathing at her inability to protect him. “I noticed the bones of gigoran children.”

“Yes,” the elder’s cool indifference edged with sorrow. “But you only killed the female. There is a mate.”

The arbitrary piece of information pulled down an uncertain frown, but before Móni could ask, the elder was ready to dismiss her.

“Your secret is safe with me as long you don’t cause any trouble. Ta’jin will take you to a guest home where your injuries will be given care and the zabrak will rest in his week-long recovery.”

“One week?” Móni gasped. They needed to be in constant movement to keep the Imperials off their trail. There was also the slight chance they may have led them to the village, even though she was certain they hadn’t been followed in the entirety of their travels. Yet, she couldn’t know for sure. Imperials were tenacious hounds who followed orders with blind loyalty until they achieved the results their commanders deemed adequate and at the expense of their lives.

“Do you plan on traveling and make the sickness worse?”

“No,” she stuttered.

“Then goodbye.”

Móni didn’t have to hear the terse farewell twice to gather Maul in her arms and hop out of the room inhabited by an odd old lady.

“Thank you,” she said and didn’t miss the flippant snort as a response before she left.

The clan of gigorans were pleasant and welcoming when they led her to a vacant and simple cabin carpeted with fur and contained one low cot which she placed Maul on. She considered the need for new clothing on both of them; they were frayed and ripped, not to mention neither have bathed for several rotations. Móni hoped the villager’s kindness would extend to providing them such necessities, as undeserving it seemed. None of them knew who they were but the high hum in her ears from the Force’s faint vibrations had her on edge with trepidation. However, it was up to Maul how long he needed the rest, but once he woke, their departure would be swift.  

A swoosh of the door broke Móni’s attention and in the doorway was a young, female gigoran with lovely silver braids clasped with gold bands. In hand was a flexpoly bacta brace and approached with a stim pack.

From the metallic static of the vocoder mask, remnants of her light and sweet voice came through, “Hello, I’m Pi’ala. Our Elder tasked me to be your caretaker for the remainder of your visit.” Then she raised the injectable, “May I?”

Móni raised her arm at the towering female who proceeded to inject through a tear in the liner. Not have been so close to a gigoran before, she admired the long white fur and detailed craftsmanship on the bands. It also did not go unnoticed the flesh of her face that swelled at the mask’s tightness and what a discomfort it must have been to wear something meant to communicate with a stranger.

“Are your people always this hospitable to outsiders?” Móni pulled her arm back when Pi’ala finished and went to remove her boots.

The female chuckled, “These lands are harsh to otherworlders and we’ve found plenty wandering our mountains or the surrounding area close to death. You and your companion are no exception.”

Móni sat on the cot beside Maul, his life force never straying from her senses, “I was expecting a harsher welcome with the Imperials here.”

Pi’ala blinked her coal eyes slowly and secured the bacta brace over the swollen ankle, “One would think.”

Distress quaked around the gigoran and Móni pushed no further on the subject, “My name is Boudika, by the way.”

“Boudika?” she inclined her head. “Where have I heard that name before?”

Móni shrugged then grimaced at the putrid and slimy sensation of the bacta fluid, “Your Elder is a lovely lady. She usually pleasant to most people?”

The comment incited a loud laugh and the distress vanished, “She hates strangers, but she insisted on seeing you.”

“So, you know of her abilities?”

“Oh, yes. We know she’s Force-sensitive. She used to be part of the Jedi Order. Although,” she faded. “It has been many, many years since she relied on the Force.”

Móni’s words fumbled out her mouth with surprise, “She was a Jedi?”

“She hates to talk about it. Left when she was still training as a padawan.”

“That is,” Móni wondered how much information the Force gave the Elder and why it did, “interesting.”

“Were you a Jedi or padawan as well?” Pi’ala finished securing the brace and stood from her crouched form.

“No,” Móni sighed at always being mistaken for a religious extremist who idealized the Force. “I was not.”

“Oh,” Pi’ala didn’t expect the negative answer but did not pursue it. “It’s best if you don’t move around for a few hours. Did you want me to bring another cot for you?”

“Uh. No, that’s alright,” Móni didn’t think she was going to get a wink of sleep for a week. Not when their true identities could be exposed any second, minute, or rotation. “I am a bit hungry.”

“Of course! I’ll get you something straight away. And once your ankle is done healing, I’ll help freshen you up.”

Móni never heard kinder words, “Thank you.”

It seemed selflessness and compassion were common traits amongst the race of giants, and it rubbed against her tender wounds to be exploiting them behind a curtain of lies. But worry overpowered her guilt for her master’s weakened state and recovery.

Discomfort no longer strained his features and was smoothed in peaceful slumber; probably the calmest she had ever seen him. He looks different, as if she were staring at a different person without the lines of wrath that were commonplace.

The steady tempo of the rise and falls of his chest soothed the anxiety that stiffened her muscles. Móni had to prepare for the inevitable if it ever came, and with Maul unconscious, she had no one to trust but herself to keep them out of any conflict. She only had to be extra vigilant for the duration of their stay.

“Super simple,” she forced.

Móni had never been very good at giving herself pep talks.

A woman who played a dangerous sport for a living, faced two ancient beasts, killed for revenge, persuaded many small-time crime leaders and businesspeople of high status, survived being spaced, and battled a fleet of TIEs was facing her greatest challenge yet.

After taking a long and much-needed advantage of the refresher, Móni stood at the foot of Maul’s cot with a stomach full of a homemade gigoran meal, dressed in a formfitting outfit made of leather and cloth, and a folded stack of clothes. Pi’ala offered to wash and change him but was stopped by an aggressive yank of the soft garbs—the action surprising Móni as well.

Their last conversation about intimacy echoed painfully in her and to have a stranger handle him would be the greatest disrespect to his demand for privacy. Although it occurred to her he would have probably preferred a stranger over someone who instigated the fight, and the insincerity of it gnawed at her.

“Okay,” she mentally prepared herself in the same way she would at the start of a shockball match, strategizing every possible move of defense or offense before stepping onto the court.

Móni had daydreamed more times than she could count how the designs that marked his back and torso would look, and there he was splayed before her, and she couldn’t find it within herself to admire them. The belt of buttons that held his body intact blinked softly and she put a hand on the warmed steel. How could she forget, she chastised herself, of his other loss?

She had been damaged, was damaged still, and clawed her way through life with scars made by self-flagellation that refused to heal and bled streams down her back. It had taken years to find the motivation to push her way out of the gutters and feed herself things that weren’t toxic to her mind and body, but the void remained, and she struggled with all ways of closing it. She had to applaud herself with its shrinking size recently, though; a massive leap forward for herself.

Maul, she was slowly beginning to realize, had suffered in many ways as well. The severity of it and how deep it ran was another matter entirely and something she couldn’t quite fathom. He dealt with it with what he knew: The Dark Side and Palpatine’s teachings, and whether it did him any good she couldn’t really say. Like he said numerous times, it was what kept him alive, and surviving the impossible had to count for something. But Móni couldn’t help but feel it was eating away at him, despite the strength it gave him.

She proceeded to wash his body and did so with no gratification of his skin rubbing against her fingers. All it did was create a pit of sorrow in her stomach for the two broken beings.

“How can I help you if I can barely help myself?” she chuckled at the hypocrisy. “Oh, Maul. We’re just a couple of agents of destruction, aren’t we?” Of course, she was met with silence.

It was true, she had yet to face anything that challenged her rightly than that moment.

Two rotations passed and Maul had yet to waken and held a steady temperature. Pi’ala would periodically rustle the quiet by redressing the wound on his hand, fed him the same poultice the Elder gave him, and inject him with nutrients to sustain his health. When she brought meals, desperate for conversation and dry from curiosity, Móni would keep her in the room with questions of every unknown ingredient in the smoked seafood, meats, and greenstuffs offered to her throughout the day. She learned of their culture, values, and the kynegi that poisoned Maul.

She tested Kyp’s holoprojector without any luck and leaned back against Maul’s cot with a lip trill.

“Why is he sleeping so much?” she asked Pi’ala who was finishing her break fast, which Móni had scarfed down her plate of smoked veal, eggs, and milk long ago.

“His body is battling the toxins in his body and it requires a lot of energy. Unlike us, with our fur to protect us from the deep incision, he received the brunt of it.”

Móni examined her master with an elbow propped at his side and a cheek in her palm. When had he gotten any real sleep? From the dark teas she fed him, they were meant to keep him awake for most hours of the day providing him little sleep. And in their recent travels, she had been the only one she recalled ever taking rest and would wake to him ready to depart.

Maybe he needs this. A good break away from mandating an organization or a bothersome apprentice.

“Have you tried killing them so you can live in peace?” Móni returned to the conversation.

“They never come into the village,” Pi’ala explained. “They know our hunters could outmatch them in numbers, so they take advantage of the rites our children need to perform when they come of age and take them when they’re off hunting alone. And we’ve never been able to find their nesting ground. You said you wandered in by accident?”

“Yeah,” a barrage of white suffocating her flashed across her vision. “We got separated and I ended up down there. Not an easy place to get to.”

“I’m sure. They are cunning beasts.”

“Can’t you change the rites?”

“No,” Pi’ala exclaimed with horror. “The kynegi is part of the rite for many villages and settlements who live amongst them. We teach our children to defend themselves and keep them away, and most do survive. It is unfortunate for the ones who don’t, but these lands show no sympathy whether you are old or young and we prepare them for that life. And they know it as well.”

Móni construed her lips to the side with a narrowed stare, “Doesn’t seem you’re doing the same about the Imperials. I’ve taken a look outside and everyone is going about their day like nothing is happening.”

The gentle female smoothed the fur at the top of her hand in thought, “Yes,” she said solemnly. “Our leaders feel we are safe and untouchable within the mountains. You are our first visitor to ever wander straight to our entrance, but the Elder said you would be there.”

The more she spoke of the Elder’s knowing eyes, the more Móni had come to dislike the old bat, “So, you’re going to stay hovelled up in here and hope they won’t find you?” She was given a muted nod. “What do you think your people should do?”

Pi’ala shifted her legs close to her body, the vocoder mask pressed against her knees, “We should be fighting alongside our more exposed neighbors, but they’re all so worried about the extinction of our culture that they decided amongst themselves to be the ones who would outlast the Imperial’s reign.” Her large hands smoothed along the fur of her legs and spoke in secret, “And we’re not the only ones who decided not to help one another. We’re so scattered around the planet it’s impossible to try in the first place. I think they’re just preparing for our doom.”

Darkness had blanketed the galaxy and Móni had turned a blind eye to it since the Empire rose to power, knowing full well its existence was an influence created by the Force. To put simply, as long she and Kyp were well out of their way its existence mattered little, aware of the atrocities it had committed galaxywide. And who was meant to stop it.

How would Maul shape the galaxy if he won? She humored herself with speculation of a crime lord rising to such heights, and if he would just be a reflection of his master or his own person.

Well into the evening, Móni was on her back fiddling with the holoprojector. Her need to contact Kyp had never been so urgent before and it certainly had nothing to do with venting her frustrations about a certain zabrak. Meditating worked little wonders, the Force had become loud again and she wasn’t in the mood to hear their pleas, but her emotions were a muddled mess between the unresolved argument, Maul’s recovery, and an unknown event that loomed over them.

“Ugh,” she dropped the device and searched her utility belt for something else to keep herself occupied.

She opened a compact device designed by Kyp, meant to serve as a travel-sized datapad and withheld years of accumulated data from beings who traversed the edges of the galaxy. A purple screen projected a listing of transcribed recordings, journal entries, essays, and texts of self-proclaimed explorers who spent their lives searching beyond their realms. Nothing in Móni’s search, however, held any descriptions of the Dimachaeri’s race.

In her study, she hummed to herself a lullaby, the only one she remembered Mother singing. It curated the comfort she lacked since Maul’s slip into unconsciousness and helped quiet the restlessness to focus on the scrolling text and images.

There was a stir on the cot followed by a soft moan. Móni peeked her head with blinking suspense at Maul who shifted slightly but no glint of yellow peered under his eyelids. She rested her chin on the surface to watch his life breathe out in deep breaths and craved to be looked at by him again.

A being pierced the Force’s veil as they made a slow approach up the stairs to their cabin. Its aura was familiar and unwelcoming, but Móni went to the door's console to have it opened for the unexpected visitor.

“A little late to be out and about for someone your age isn’t it?”

The Elder leaned over a cane the width of Móni’s bicep that held the strength to support the towering gigoran in her hunched and decaying form.

“I have something to discuss with you, human,” she moved the end of her cane between them to feel her way forward and struck Móni’s shin directly.

“Ah! What you do that for?” Móni moved far out of the Elder’s reach to not be struck again.

“You were in my way,” she sniffed coolly.

“Right,” Móni widened her eyes with mock amusement, then continued to say without genuine meaning, “Apologies.”

The Elder stood in the center of the room and waited for Móni to return to Maul’s side.

“What are you?” she skipped the pleasantries and dived straight to the source of gracing Móni with her presence.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Her focus was on the empty wall adjacent to her, but the Elder shifted her head to the two living sources in the room, “Pi’ala told you I was once part of the Jedi Order.” Móni went to respond, but was halted harshly, “It was not a question, I know she did. My granddaughter speaks too much.”

“Granddaughter?” Móni mused. “I don’t see the resemblance.”

“I would certainly hope not. The girl is her own person,” she shuffled around to face the woman sitting on the heap of furs. “You don’t know do you?”

“I had no idea the Jedi were this in tune with the Force to sense something different about me,” Móni had passed several of their kind in her life on Coruscant, and she never garnered a glance from them.

“Some are,” she paused and corrected herself. “Were,” she rubbed the top of her cane and a crease formed between her brows. “I broke off my connection with the Force long ago and yet, the moment you entered our atmosphere it gave me visions of your approach. Rekindling a flame long since put out.”

“I can’t tell you what it wants,” Móni felt the ache that wavered for a family the Elder no longer connected with but sympathized with their loss, “if that’s what you’re asking. But it did lead me here.”

“Do you meditate on what the Force asks of you. Or the future?”

The question was accusatory like a teacher waving a finger at a student for rebelling against a lecture. It didn’t sit well. Felt strange to be taught by someone other than Maul and with a different perspective.

A Jedi’s perspective. To follow up the question with a response would undoubtedly mark Móni as a traitor to Maul. But she was intrigued to understand the opposite spectrum of the Force, even just a little.

“I meditate,” Móni began. “But the Force is loud, and I push it away to focus on realigning my feelings. And I cannot see my future or any that I’m involved in.”

The Elder’s eyes narrowed, “Why have you not been opening yourself to it?”

“Uh,” Móni stuttered a response. Her training had been focused on offensive and defensive combat under Maul’s guidance; qualities he found greater importance in, “Not enough time?”

“Who is that zabrak to you?” she asked quickly in a whisper, almost fearful of what she may already know.

“He’s my master,” Móni stated simply.

The Elder shifted her hold lower on the cane and squeezed it tight. Her eyes, though unfocused, were wide with a dangerous sense of insight, “Your master is not a Jedi.”

Móni’s features shadowed with a glint of aggression, the Force swelling ready to make the first move, “No.”

“Do you understand what he is?”

“I do.”

“I’m afraid you don’t,” she shuffled closer and Móni jumped up into form, ready to strike. But the Elder stopped a safe distance, unperturbed by the flux of emotion, “Your master is a monster.” Through her broken Basic came a tone that pierced the Force with solid might, “Although I am no longer a Jedi, I do uphold their code and knowledge of the Force, and I healed him because it guided me to do so. I was plagued by visions the moment you landed on this planet. A woman with hair as untamed as the wilderness and eyes that glowed like my enemy. Why is the Force protecting you and a Sith?”

“I don’t know!” Grief struck Móni hard in her gut and she wanted the gigoran to leave her in peace. Leave her and Maul alone and take her allegations with her. “It may be protecting him because I’m involved in his life. Tangled in it,” her form faltered, unsure of what she was saying or meant. “I’m an important commodity to the Force and it has been protecting me since I was born. But I don’t know why, so stop asking me.”

“You cannot see your future,” the Elder spoke slowly, “because the Force does not know your future.”

“No,” she swallowed. Then returned her strength into form, stretching her fingers crossing over her torso, “I make my own future.”

“And the wrong one,” her eyes did not reach Maul, but her cane pointed exactly where he was. “He will be your downfall.”

“And a Jedi wouldn’t be?” Móni countered, her muscles strained under her skin. “They’re all the same to me.”

The Elder shook her head and sorrow webbed into the forefront of her mountainous will. Móni felt it and considered how powerful the gigoran would have been if she hadn’t left the Order. But she wouldn’t have survived if she hadn’t. And she wouldn’t have met…

Móni shuttered at the entity that guided the old female’s life to reach hers. Her purpose. There were was a string of fate connected to them, faint and fading, of a time that could have been. That never would be.

The words of the native chieftain on D’Qar, those many months ago when she communicated with his life force through an ancient tree, echoed around her:

“Your future could have been very different and simple. But you chose the unexpected one.”

Standing before Móni was one path of many. A different life spent on Gigor with no Mandalorians, no Crimson Veil, and no Maul.

“His suffering will be yours as well, and it will hurt you in the end because Sith are selfish beings who will achieve their goals by any means, including destroying those around them.”

“Leave,” there was a prickle in her eyes and her voice trembled. The Force rattled the stones and atmosphere, but it caused little alarm for the Elder. And when she made no effort to move, Móni sucked in air, “Leave! I’ve made my choice and you or the Force have no say in it!”

“It would appear so,” the Elder worked her jaw and shuffled her way to the exit. “It’s a shame really. The daughter of such a prestigious line of hunters would have fit well amongst us.”

“A line that ends with me,” Móni flexed her hands before balling them into fists.

What would Momma think? She hadn’t considered her lineage in so long. A legacy she had forgotten. Because it wounded her when she remembered she had abandoned it.

“Goodbye, Boudika.”

The silence ticked away into a vacuum and suffocated her.

Every time. Every time she experienced an iota of euphoria in her life, it would come and tear it out from under her.

She looked down at Maul. Master. Friend. Companion. Ally. Her choice.

Móni didn’t want to believe the Elder’s words, but there was truth to them. She knew what he was and yet…

Her lips trembled and her face scrunched to hold back the sting in her eyes, but they pooled and fell in continuous streaks. She whimpered a sob and clutched her chest at the loss of air.

In a whirl of dysphoria, she flew out the door and onto the highest peak that surrounded the village below. The chill nipped at her wet face and she felt nothing, but its purity filled her drained lungs. There was a sparkling expanse of deep blue and black above and the size of it made her small.

The Force was larger than the sky, the planet, and the galaxy. And there was one woman battling against it.

Everything spiraled when the Elder referred to Maul as ‘monster’ and she couldn’t find the words to defend him. Móni had known what he had done in his past and now. Merciless. Cruel. Unforgiving. She knew what he was and yet she remained by his side to help craft an empire that was built on the blood of his enemies and those deemed beneath him.

If only they knew. Understood, but they never would. Ever could. Maul had only given her glimpses of someone who was not of the Dark Side and she believed he was there. Somewhere.

The crinkle at the corner of his eyes that shut in a crescent curve from the grin that stretched his markings, and the sound… it began with a dry cough, like an engine sputtering to start, and when it continued it was borderline lyrical.

But her opinion of him meant nothing to the Elder or to anyone else who would soon discover he was the one who orchestrated the abduction of their kind.

“The only advice I can offer is to check your feelings and not let it be the drive for your choices.”

She understood what feelings the native chieftain meant now.

Anxiety engulfed her in a dense fog—searching—and tugged her down back to the cabin.

“Maul,” she flew back inside to him gripping the sheets in a cold sweat and his teeth bared in a severe grimace.

Knelt at his side and hands gripping the edge, she called for him, “Maul, can you hear me?”

There were no changes in a response. His inhales were heavy and loud, his chest heaving fast.

She wanted to call out to him again, but he was too far gone to hear beyond his dream state. Her hands hesitated at his, bare and coated with a sheen of sweat, and pried them off the insulated sheet. In her hands was his tight fist, the knuckles bruising her skin from her own grip. Her thumb smoothed over the back of his hand and soothed him with quiet murmurs of his name between her lips.

His fist unfolded and entwined his fingers with hers, their size fitting into the gaps and filled her with the comfort of touch she had craved from him for months.

“What’s wrong?” she pushed forward, elbows on the cot, and close to his dual-colored face stretched in agony that she wanted to kiss away.

Móni bit her bottom lip and rubbed his hand at a decision he would fight her to the death against.

“You can push me to the ground as many times as you want if you find out,” she exhaled. “Sorry.”

She pressed the knuckles of his fingers to her forehead and felt the turmoil. Anguish. Torture. It was immense… Terrifying. Móni worked through the doubt at her own skill level to plunge into his depths and not lose herself in the dissonance of dark emotions.

Should I wait and see if he makes it through?

But the agony pierced the back of her skull and all traces of doubt vanished.

Móni fell.

Down, down, down into a pit with no end and no beginning, and she was drenched in his hate. It pulsed in her veins and contorted her face in pain from the forceful intrusion. She searched her own emotions and drew out the strongest one to protect herself against his inferno. It ignited brightly to clear a path and search the corners of his mind.

Then, in the distance, was muffled wailing and Móni drew herself to the source. Huddled in a corner of a steel encasement was a child hugging their knees with their head buried in them, showing their stubbed crown of horns, and her senses filled with strong gases of sulfur.

His small hands and bare feet were marked with lesions and purple bruises that popped against his crimson skin.

“I didn’t,” his words broke between sobs. “I didn’t mean to, Master. Please. I’m so hungry and it hurts.”

Móni knelt before him, “Maul?”

He jerked his head up and she gasped at the color of his wide eyes in his round face. He must not have been more than five years old. Maul clung onto the fabric of her top and whined a plea.

“Get me out. Help me. Please!”

Móni stifled the grief that rose to her throat. She needed to maintain neutrality if she were to get through the shadows of his thoughts and not mix her pain with his.

She encased her hands over his, “I can’t. I’m sorry.” It’s a memory. Just a memory. “What if I sing you a lullaby? Help you sleep and when you wake up, you’ll feel better.”

“A lullaby?” he sniffed. “What’s a lullaby?”

It took every ounce of energy to not crush his smaller hands and repress the urge to scorch the planet in her rage, “I’ll show you.”

Arms the color of rich earth wrapped around M óni and smoothed her dark coils while rocking her small body. She shared Mother’s scent of florals and honey, the feel of her protective embrace, and her breasts vibrating from the smooth voice that poured into her ears.

“Dreams are like stars that shine in the sky,
Beauty and bright,
Beauty and bright.
Singing and laughing with the moon up so high
Beauty, oh, beauty and bright.

Wondrous the flowers that faces the sun,
Beauty and bright,
Beauty and bright.
Soaking the rays of laughter and fun,
Beauty, oh, beauty and bright.

Rivers that rush with clear kindness and joy,
Beauty and bright,
Beauty and bright.
Creatures and critters all splash to enjoy,
Beauty, oh, beauty and bright.

Insects illuminate a trail back to me,
Beauty and bright,
Beauty and bright.
Dancing on winds with the beetles and bees,
Beauty, oh, beauty and bright.

A young mother’s heart that sings you sweet dreams,
Beauty and bright,
Beauty and bright.
Of sugars and spices, mixed berries and cream,
Beauty, oh, beauty and bright.

Beauty and bright, beauty and bright.
Beauty, oh, beauty and bright.”

Asleep in her arms, she gently set down Maul’s child form. The tips of her fingers lingered on his small shoulder before she retracted herself from the memory.

Before she fully released herself, half her senses webbed into his mind and the other felt the cabin’s chill, a form took shape. It was Maul at the age she knew, but without the steel limbs and stared back at her with pools of dark amber.

Móni was startled at the face that resembled him but carried an entirely different disposition than what she was familiar with. Even the way he frowned and how his brows raised with the same beseeching gaze his child form displayed changed his outlook completely.  

“Promise me,” he called for her, “you won’t leave my side.”

He faded into a whisper and a mirage of his plea haunted the dark cabin over the two motionless figures.

Maul had returned to peaceful slumber, a harsh contrast with the woman who remained by his side. Móni peeled his fingers from her head and pressed them against the sheets.

When he said the Dark Side was all he had ever known, Móni thought she understood what he meant. But the meaning of his words ran so deep it was an endless chasm with no way out, and he had been trapped in its hold for so long it was infused with him.

Móni wasn’t prepared for the pain his past came with. It constricted her chest and guts, and disbelief clung her features, unable to process what she may or may not have understood.

On instinct, she rubbed the back of his hand with her knuckles while soaking in the male before her. Her fondness for him beating in her heart, veins, and extended toward the hand she held.

“I promise.”

The vow stung her tongue at the foolish notion of being able to uphold it.

Within her was an untamed power meant to serve the will of the Force and what Maul had been training her to harness would soon create a rift between them; their destinies tearing them apart.

Chapter Text

Poor, poor, Durmó nia. Cannot escape her fate.

Knelt by the cot with her hand grasping Maul’s, Móni raised her head when early light hit her eyes. She hoped for any sign of his awakening, but he was the same he has always been in the past few rotations. Generous and kind the gigorans were, she needed to leave and never look back at the village again. There was still a connection tethered between her and the Elder, and the old female felt it too. But she won’t take it. She won’t follow. Móni knew where she was meant to be and that was where she would remain.

Pi’ala scrutinized the smaller human before her when they were finishing their break fast. She certainly found it odd how slow she was eating when she usually ate faster than a full-grown gigoran male. And always the one to start a conversation, that day she was reserved with her head hung the entirety of the meal.

She gathered their plates. “Some of the children in the village have a question for you.”

Móni blinked away her distress and tilted her head. “Children? For me?”

“Mhm." Pi’ala shirked at the thought of asking. It was rather embarrassing given she knew little about human culture and what remarks did or did not offend them. “You see…”

Orange glinted with delight and a rather obtuse smirk leisurely made its way across Móni’s features, which only deepened the shame.

“Yes, Miss Pi’ala? What would the children like to know?” Her tone mocked.

Pi’ala sputtered, “It is the children! They’ve been pestering me since they first laid eyes on you.”

Móni raised her eyebrows, not believing her, but let it go all the same. “Then tell me.”

“They are curious about your,” she paused, unsure what the right terminology was, “fur?”

“Fur?” She smoothed the loose coils that sprung every which way. “You mean my hair?”

“That’s what you humans call it! Yes, your hair.”

“What about it?”

“Well, they’ve never seen anything like it. They want to decorate it the same way we decorate our young. If it’s not any offense to you or your culture.”

Her lips hung a bit in surprise but then immediately stretched into a grin that lit the room. “Let’s do it!”

Outside the cabin and on its balcony, a flurry of children with snow white coats, radiating their youth, surrounded Móni with shrills of giggles and laughter as they touched her hair with tender strokes. Their chattering was fast and animated in their native tongue, plotting how to stylize it in a way they saw fit.

Pi’ala extended a holodevice to her.

“What’s this?” Unable to move her head, she strained her eyes to see as far to their corners as they could go.

“A map to help navigate through the mountain range." She placed it in her hands. “Make sure not to tell anyone,” she whispered.

Móni did not take it immediately. “Your grandmother wouldn’t be happy to know I had that.”

The gigoran’s hand faltered. “I know. But I trust you won’t share our information with anyone.”

“You’ve only known me a few days." Móni couldn’t bear to take any more responsibility. The pressure was suppressing her freedom and peace of mind. “You know we’re enemies to her, don’t you?”

Pi’ala shook her head and dismissed her with ease. “She thinks everyone is an enemy. Take it." She placed it in a much smaller hand.

“Pi’ala…,” Móni began, ready to snuff out the immense trust placed in her hand by giving her and Maul away. “I can’t.”