Ancient Artifice/Chapter 3

Grey. Grey, as far as the eye could see, and beyond.

Dija Kullias tore across the surface of Yavin 4, putting as much distance between her and the vile Sergeant Ryen. It wasn’t often that she wished someone dead, but she had no qualms regarding the entitled Imperial’s fate.

The green-skinned Twi’lek had to make an effort to avoid the leftover pieces of machinery, devoid of activity following the many minor conflicts since the Death Star’s destruction, plaguing the once lush fields of the moon. Her grave mood was only accentuated by the grey clouds looming overheard, bearing the first semblance of a storm.

There was no time for a trip to the (much kinder) Lieutenant Terallo’s ship to retrieve her original clothes, lest the predatory imbecile find and capture her again – truly, he emanated all the ferocity and retch-inducing lust of a slaver on Ryloth. She had been lucky to escape her homeworld, Dija, thought, as she finally approached the gracious stronghold of the ancient temple. Safe at last.

After a quick and reluctant scavenge of the large room where the remains of her former pirate gang colleagues were stored, where Zekk Ryen had incarcerated her, she changed into a much warmer and more tasteful outfit and grabbed two blaster pistols from her fallen comrades. As she sat back in relative bliss, gnawing on a nutrition bar like she had not eaten in weeks (because, to tell the truth, she had not, other than the miniscule portion of nutrient paste the Imperials gave her), the soft pitter-patter of rain could be heard against the stone roof of the temple; a pre-emptive strike before the true storm of precipitation began. Not knowing how long she would have to remain within the Great Temple (as it was called by her contemporaries in the Eellayin Wanderers), Dija glanced at her surroundings while remaining hesitant to gaze upon the floor, where the corpses of her friends laid. She was hardly a supporter of the Rebel Alliance, but their flags made her feel much more at home than the Empire’s.

As thunder began to plague her ears, causing a cacophony of sound, the Twi’lek laid down to rest, exhausted after her unfair imprisonment.

Unfair, she mused; a word to describe her entire life up to that point.

The lieutenant stood in awe at the creature in front of him; alive, yet not, appearing as if she were the image projected by a holocommunicator, yet standing as the gatekeeper of power itself.

“Sorry about your friend, lieutenant.” Syrinn spoke with a stern and authoritative tone, though her pale face hid an air of playfulness. “Those creatures that tore him limb from limb are known as the Massassi, powerful warriors brought here in servitude to the Sith Lord Exar Kun. They built that temple, you know. The Great Temple, they called it; a futile attempt to get closer to the deity they called Yavin, of course referring to the actual planet Yavin, which goes to show the sheer idiocy of the things.”

Terallo could do nothing but listen, captivated by the knowledge being shared by the ancient woman. “That unseen force holding them to the walls of the cavern? That was my power, and that rope suspending the massive boulder was placed there by my followers as a trap to any intruders upon my great mausoleum – yet you utilised it to your own advantage. Well played, sir.”

She stepped away from the triangular artefact, her elegant robes swaying to and fro in response to her quick movements. “Yes, this great cavern constructed by Massassi warriors serves as storage for this dark holocron, and my final resting place – you can find my coffin here, if you dig deep enough.”

Delof finally gained the coherence and confidence to speak.

“I studied Exar Kun briefly in my classes at the Academy. He lived thousands of years ago, how can these-“, pausing to give himself time to remember Syrinn’s pronunciation, “Massassi still be alive after all this time?”

The dark woman seemed pleased at the question and pondered it for a moment.

“As far as I know, ancient Sith magics in combination with the latent dark side potential of the Massassi race, and the planet we are on, kept them alive in suspended animation for over three thousand years. They used to be a sophisticated civilisation, but Kun transformed them into mindless beasts worshipping non-existent gods and performing blood sacrifices to anyone they could lay their hands on – that’s why they took your friend by the way, well, that and their insatiable, indominable hunger after lying dormant all these years. They were only awoken by my discovery of this cave approximately six-hundred and ninety-two years ago, according to my internal chronometer. That was the self-same year my upstart apprentice killed me!”

Terallo’s mouth was left agape. “H-how have you lived on for almost seven-hundred years?”

At the notion, Syrinn exploded in a fit of laughter. Realising the genuine curiosity of the Imperial officer, she recollected herself and gave him a genuine answer. “I’m not still alive, my dear – this form is a gatekeeper, a manifestation of my power used to guard and guide the knowledge of the Sith holocron you see before you. Only a powerful user of the dark side of the Force could possibly open it – I willingly chose to reveal myself to you, however, because I can sense power in you. A power that has been left untouched, that I can teach you to manifest and control.”

Again, Terallo was aghast, and had no satisfying answer to supply her with. “W-what do you mean by t-that?”

The woman smiled and gave a pleasant, simple answer. “I can make you into a Sith Lord.”

Outside the limits of the cavern, thunder seemed to shake the very foundations of the moon. In response, the bloodthirsty Massassi warriors howled and screamed until Syrinn threw her extended arm towards them, her gaze still fixed on Delof, and they were suddenly silenced. Enjoying the look of bemusement on the lieutenant’s face, she expanded on her offer: “What you just saw was but a fraction of my power. My holocron contains decades of knowledge I amassed throughout my career, that I chose to hide from my selfish apprentice. Sith alchemy, dark rituals and sorcery, as well as collated knowledge of the ancient Sith, the original Sith, the true Sith.”

She extended her bony hand once again, but this time in his direction. “All you need to do is kneel”.

Dija was getting exasperated just thinking of the time she would have to spend holed up in a corpse-filled temple just to weather the storm. It was in full force now, covering every inch of land in murky liquid. Why could it not have the sense to move over to the moon’s rainforests, where it could be useful?

Perched on the steps of what seemed to be a large meeting or presentation room, sheets of metal adorning each and every wall. Recklessly practicing her aim on the rebel flag hung up next to the entranceway, she was not prepared at all for the monstrosities that claimed Zekk’s life.

She was not prepared to die and did not plan on doing it on a backwater jungle moon.

As she swiftly made her way back into the room where she had made up a bed for the night, she heard footsteps. Lots of footsteps, coming in her direction. The young Twi’lek knew she would stand no chance against whatever was coming her way, so she hid under the mound of rags, clothing and other material she had collected to rest her head on, pulling a storage crate over from another room to mask her presence altogether. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had against whatever would come through that door.

A sudden gut-wrenching scream heralded the arrival of the enemy. Under the limited protection of the crate, Kullias heard a great many feet filling the room, and could feel the seething anger resonating from each and every one of them; even without laying her eyes upon them, she could tell that the cavern warriors were now sharing the space with her. The Twi’lek hoped that their large builds corroborated with a lack of intelligence.

For several minutes, she was forced to listen to their ravenous conversations in a language unknown to her, until all went silent for a few moments. Bracing for discovery, Dija relaxed slightly after hearing the jingle of dog tags – several members of the Eellayin Wanderers had been stormtrooper deserters – in the knowledge that they were more focused on what was already deceased than what remained alive. As long as she stayed still and silent, they would not be able to locate her.

Right?

The gatekeeper manifestation of Darth Syrinn paced in front of the holocron as the lieutenant fought the internal battle of his interests – one side told him to remain vigilant to the Empire, to do his duty, and the other pushed him to seize power and crush those who looked down on him. Though hardly a decisive man by nature, he knew that one option meant life, and the other death, having seen the power of his superiors and the breadth of their influence over galactic affairs. And yet, Syrinn still endeavoured to change his mind.

“Surely you have a family, lieutenant? Parents, siblings, a husband, a wife?”

Softly shaking his head, Delof thought back to his childhood memories. “My parents were both admirals in the Republic navy during the Naboo Crisis. I never knew my father – he was killed in action settling a dispute over Duro while my mother was pregnant. She was never really the same after he died, but she continued serving in the navy right through the Clone Wars before she retired to Kuat, where my family is from, while I became one of the first admissions to the Imperial Academy. She was killed by renegade stormtroopers during one of the early rebellions against the Empire.”

Syrinn appeared to listen intently, yet her heavy makeup hid her expression well. “With my help, you could bring her back and seek vengeance on those who wrongfully executed her. With the Force, you can do anything.”

Terallo hesitated; she made a good point, and there was nothing more Delof wanted than to see his mother alive and well again, but power for power’s sake could and would corrupt him. He just knew.

“I-“ Delof turned to view his astromech, which had managed to turn itself upright again but still clung to the back end of the cavern, away from the Sith Lord. It amused him slightly, but he understood the droid’s viewpoint. “I have to contact my superiors. They need to know about your holocron.”

Clearly disappointed, the Darth simply uttered, “Then I have nothing left to say to you,” and the projected image disappeared back into the holocron.

Disregarding the artefact for the moment, Terallo pulled out his holocommunicator, and had to wait for several minutes before his transmission was picked up, and the sneering face of his superior showed itself.

“What is it, lieutenant? I have an audience with the Emperor soon, make it quick,” Moff Jerjerrod patronisingly stated.

“Tiaan – send in the Imperial Reclamation Service. I’ve found something I believe they’ll be very interested in”.