Chapter 42: Happy Accident

I was only slightly surprised when I managed to stumble my way to the medical wing under my own power.

Three days without water had done a number on my body, but thankfully not to extent I had been expecting. It turned out that even without actively using it, the Force bolstered the natural tolerances of its users, allowing them to perform incredible feats of endurance.

According to the doctors, I could have survived another three days without water before seeing the beginnings of organ failure. As such, the only treatment I would require was an IV of fluids. The same could be said for my lack of sleep, though even that had its limits.

Either one of them I could have dealt with easily with little side effects. But both of them combined with the pain of sitting still for so long without being able to call on the Force to rejuvenate myself lead to my rather…vivid hallucination. At least according to the doctors, who I might add were not Sith.

I couldn't discount the possibility that it had been influenced by the Force. While Marka Ragnos theoretically couldn't extend his will beyond his tomb without outside aid, the academy was on top of his former mortuary temple. Of course, there was also the whole thing with the training droids that lead to it to worry about as well.

Well, no one ever said that becoming a Sith would be boring. It says a lot about what this place is doing to me that I could take repeated assassination attempts in stride.

The academy's medical ward was a busy place, so after I had received my IV and fluid bag I had been left alone as other, more pressing patients came in. Until my treatment was finished, I had little else to do aside from scarfing down the rations the medical staff had helpfully supplied before running off.

There were no closed off rooms or privacy screens for patients like me, so I had a decent view to watch as people raced by. I took a bite from the stale-tasting ration as a crash cart and several nurses raced by. On the bed was a humanoid shape covered in such horrific burns that I couldn't tell gender or species at a glance. Of course, they were out of sight just as quickly as they appeared.

"And that kiddies is why you don't play with fire," I muttered into my snack before taking another bite.

There was a snort from somewhere to my left, then a voice with a noticeable Scottish accent, "Don't think she needs you to tell her that."

Chewing, I glanced over, "She?"

Two beds down, the speaker was a human man with short brown hair, green eyes, and a lean medium build. Thick black lines shaped like jagged fangs were tattooed along his jawline, meeting at his chin.

While he was wearing the pants and boots of the academy uniform, he wasn't wearing a shirt, revealing that his chest and arms were wrapped in bandages and his left arm was in a sling. Around his neck was a cord of leather with several fangs hanging off it.

The man, who I was assuming was another acolyte, was still watching the crash cart until it disappeared around a corner. He held his good hand up to his chest and made the motion as if cupping something, "She had rather…large tracts of land."

The dehydration and sleep deprivation must have done more damage than I thought because it took a moment to understand what he was talking about. I blinked as it clicked, my eyebrows furrowing, "I wasn't looking there."

He shrugged, "Don't know why you would look anywhere else. The rest of her was a wreck." The acolyte finally turned to look at me, only to pause and squint his eyes, "Wait a minute…"

As his gaze bored into me, I was very conscious of my unarmed state. All my gear had been stripped off me and sent back to my dorm before I had been thrown in solitary. I regretted not getting it before coming here, but in my defense, I hadn't been thinking too clearly.

"What?" I asked, suddenly on edge. I might have started getting used to danger, but that didn't mean I wasn't jumpy at all.

His eyes widened, staring at my prosthetic jaw, before he spoke again with an accusatory tone, "Shavit, you're the guy that wrecked the training hall three days ago!"

"And if I am?" I was fully expecting to have to use my IV pole as a weapon.

A giant savage grin suddenly spread across the other acolyte's face, showing all of his teeth, "You pissed off a lot of the battle junkies with that stunt. With so many droids scrapped, the Overseers actually had to close down the training hall until the techs could clear the wreckage and get the reserves up and running. They only reopened it yesterday."

"Are you one of said "battle junkies?"" I asked warily.

The acolyte laughed and pointed at his tattoos, "What, can't tell from my face?"

Honestly, I never really got the reason behind Sith tattoos. They were obviously more than just decoration as nearly every single incarnation of the Sith Order had them in some form or another. Maybe they were holdovers from the days when the Sith were more…religious.

They did seem to be more popular with warriors than sorcerers or alchemists. They might have been intended as a blessing of sorts similar to painting or tattooing oneself in the image of an animal to gain its strength.

Maybe the eldritch designs were believed to help the warrior channel the Force more effectively.

"Don't bother trying to brain me with your IV pole," My hand, which until now had been inching slowly towards the edge of my bed, froze when he spoke, "I've got nothing against you, so I'm not going to start anything."

"Really."

"Really," He repeated. He waggled the arm in the sling a bit, "I like fighting, but even I'm not dumb enough to pick a fight with a broken arm and a few broken ribs," The human chuckled.

"Well, at least when I'm not in the middle of a battle rage."

"That how you got messed up?" I inquired. I wasn't entirely convinced that he wouldn't try to murder me if given the chance, but that might have just been my wariness of other Sith.

The other man nodded nonchalantly, "Yep. See, after you went and trashed the droids, I was left without an acceptable target for my battle rage. So I decided to head out into the wastes and kill some tu'kata.

Found a pack and went to town. Most of them went down easy, but the alpha was a little smarter than the rest and he got a hold of my arm. Still killed him, but he nearly ripped my arm off in the process. Didn't figure out he'd gotten my ribs too until I got back to the academy."

I stayed quiet.

"Not really all that good for my swordsmanship," He continued, ignoring my silence and lost in his own little world for a moment, "but it was a hell of a lot more fun than droids."

"You were at training hall that day?" I asked.

The acolyte blinked, "Yeah, I was. Why?"

"Did you see anything unusual? Beforehand, I mean."

He shook his head slowly, "Everything was normal to me. I left to take a break and when I came back…well, you had done your thing and the Inquisitors were hauling you out. Cameras didn't have anything either."

I raised an eyebrow at the unprompted answer, "If they had, the footage would have already been bootlegged and distributed around the academy by now. Or used as material for the Ministry of Propaganda."

The acolyte waved his arm like a showman advertising a performance, "Look at this, Republic dogs! This is what an acolyte can do to fifty droids! Imagine if these were your flesh and blood soldiers! If this is what a mere acolyte can do, imagine what a Lord could do!"

I snorted despite myself, a smirk forming as I pointed towards my brands, "I don't think they'd use a former slave for propaganda."

"Eh, they'd probably doctor the footage to take it out."

So the security cameras in the training halls were either disabled or had their data wiped from the system, every acolyte was "convinced" to find an excuse to be out of the room, and then every droid in the room turned on me.

That eliminated most of my avenues of investigation. However, I might still have one left in the form of Qiv's droids.

"Is anybody else holding a grudge?" I not-so-subtly changed the subject. While it wasn't exactly smooth, he might appreciate the bluntness.

"Not really," He shook his head, "Most of the warriors cooled off immediately after the halls were reopened. Some of them want a go at fighting you, though. Not because they're mad, but because they think you might make for a decent fight."

"Most of them," I repeated, stressing that first word.

"Aye," His grin widened a little bit more, "Most of the upper-class bastards that might hold a grudge are just ignoring you because of your little decorations there.

Not worth their precious time," He pointed a finger at the brands, "But you've managed to get noticed by a few of them. You're suddenly a threat."

And a threat was something to be disposed of as quickly as possible. Well, it appeared that I would need to start devising countermeasures after I figure out just who might be coming for my head.

"So my new and useful aquaintence, do you have a name?" I asked. I might as well get a name so I can keep tabs on his progress.

"Only an aquaintence, eh?" The other human chuckled, "I suppose that's fine. Call me Caleb."

"Aldrex."

Both of us fell silent for a moment, only for Caleb to break it, "So, is it true you killed a Lord?"

"He died in an accident," I replied automatically.

"Sure. An "accident." A Lord dies to a giant monster, yet it leaves his nearby student and soldiers completely untouched," Caleb snorted. He waved his good arm, "Pull the other one."

"Nope. Just a happy little accident."

...

After I finished my treatment, I left to retrieve my gear before heading for Qiv's hideaway.

Now seated in front of the terminal, I stared at the screen. Once again, the events played out before me.

Everything froze. The droids. The people fighting them. As one, the acolytes started filtering out of the room in a daze.

Only one remained. Me. But I wasn't the only organic in the room.

Leaning against a wall was a horrific figure. A body covered in scars and burns. Its head tilted up as red eyes stared at the camera and a nightmarish grin split a broken face.

And then, the feed winked out.

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