Chapter 45: Mixed Signals

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Slight retcon. Tyrene's Master is a man, not a woman. This has been a Korriban PSA. Move along, citizen.

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With my Force presence clamped down, Tyrene's eyes swept over me without pause as she examined the camp. I was just another face in the crowd to ignore.

"You know her?" Maklan's voice whispered in my ear.

I turned, finding that he had put on his own helmet. His voice was coming from the built in comm system. I quickly shifted back to keeping an eye on the apprentices.

I quickly shut off the speakers on my own helmet so my voice wouldn't carry, "Met her a week ago during the Rite of Blood and Bone. Her name's Tyrene and she's a decent fighter. Didn't know she was Scriver's apprentice though."

However, Tyrene wasn't the type I'd ever see as a Sith Archaeologist. Darth Scriver probably just kept her around as muscle. Still, given what her last mission was, it made me wonder all the more about the Sith Lord's interest here.

"Friend of yours?"

"Friends is stretching things," I replied, "We tried to kill each other and then she tried to force me to help her kill a Terentatek."

I heard Maklan choke on his own spit the moment I said "Terentatek." That was something I'd be taking advantage of for a while for my own amusement.

After he regained his breath, he asked, "Given that you're both still alive, I'm guessing you succeeded?"

I nodded once, "And I convinced her that she owes me a favor."

I could feel Maklan's stare boring into my back. While his face was hidden by his helmet, I could sense his mind churning during that long moment of silence. Idly, I extended a tendril of the Force to try to get a peek at what he was thinking about, only to hit a solid wall.

I blinked in surprise and suddenly I was very curious about this soldier that had ingratiated himself to me.

With a few moments of concentration, I could probably have broken through or slipped around it. In the end, I decided not to push my luck. Maklan and his troops were among the few here at the academy that could be considered allies. Any attempts to push past his latent defenses would be noticed, even to someone that couldn't feel the Force and I had no interest in alienating him.

Tampering with the mind of another is not something to be done lightly, I had to remind myself. Or at least, when there is little to be gained.

But it did leave me wondering. Someone had gone to the trouble of teaching him how to shield his mind from intrusion. Well, that or he had developed his own method. Either way, it would be something to investigate at a more opportune time.

"Alright, so she's a potential ally," Maklan finally said, showing no sign that he'd even noticed my attempt at mental intrusion, "Guess I can afford to prioritze more troopers on the other one and Darth Scriver then."

At that, I physically turned to look at him, "…Are you making plans to kill every Sith you work under now?"

After Renning, I guess it was a bit understandable. Then again, there was likely a reason he was assigned to Korriban to begin with.

"Of course not, milord," I could almost see the grin on his face through his helmet, "I'm just setting up insurance."

I've created a monster. An amusing one, but a monster nonetheless.

"And how many snipers are trained on me?"

"For the moment, none," Because of his shields, it was hard to tell for certain if he was being honest, though my gut was saying he was speaking the truth, "Though they can shift targets pretty fast."

I suppose that was the best I could ask for. I did have to remind myself that the men of the Second Platoon were only my allies, not quite my friends. I was the least bad of a lot of terrible options and they knew it. They'd stick with me until I'd proven that I was no longer the least bad.

It was a pure realpolitik, but it was an attitude that I could find myself agreeing with.

"We'll see," I chuckled before ducking out of the tent.

After a full day of hunting, I was tired and looking forward to some rest. Keeping my head down, I slipped back to the tent I had appropriated a few days ago and crawled into my cot.

...

My screams echoed in the cavern as my skin and bone split and was torn apart. Blood spurted from traumatized arteries as my limbs were removed from their moorings.

Above me, the hooded figure stood silently, its own hands slick with blood. Like the Grim Reaper himself, it was garbed in all-encompassing black robes and loomed overhead. Even as it threw back its head and laughed, I could only see the malicious grin and a pair of sulphurous yellow eyes.

A hand raised and lightning crackled between its red-stained fingers.

I jolted upright on the cot, the feeling of phantom electricity still dancing across my skin. My breath came in ragged gasps as I tried to get my heart back under control.

It's been almost six months since I killed Castor.

The act itself hadn't bothered me so much as the unnecessarily brutal means by which I had accomplished it. Before then, all of my humanoid kills had been clean. Snapping necks with the Force, stabbing with a blade, blaster shots. All clean. All quick.

Castor's death had been neither clean nor quick.

While the horror of it had faded with time, my dreams were still invaded by the same nightmare every now and again. It was the same scenario, but with me as the victim and that same dark spectre standing overhead.

Rubbing my eyes, I tried to banish the last remnants of the dream as I reached for my datapad. It took a moment for my bleary sight to finally decipher what time it was.

"Four hours," I muttered aloud. I could feel my shoulders droop as the resignation hit.

The dream came less and less often now, but when it did, it left me feeling miserable.

Well, I wasn't getting back to sleep any time soon. Swinging my feet off the cot, I pushed myself up and quickly set about scarfing down a ration pack before donning my armor. After slipping my helmet back onto my head, I stepped out.

It was still dark out. On Korriban, that meant it was bitterly cold. If there had been any kind of moisture in the air, it would have coalesced into frost on the ground and everything else. Thankfully, my bodysuit and armor were climate-controlled, keeping out the worst of it. However, I could still feel a bit seep through the thin material.

Truth be told, I wasn't sure if the chill was from the natural cold or from the dark power that pervaded the planet.

Sand crunched under my feet as I weaved through the tents, though I stopped when I was in sight of Darth Scriver's workstation. The Dark Lord was nowhere to be seen, though I could still feel his oppressive presence nearby, so he was likely sleeping in his tent.

On the table, several scraps of flimsiplast were piled next to stacks of sealed scroll cases.

I paused. It was a chance to find out more, but I dared not approach. This was not Lord Renning, but a Sith Lord in truth. Answering uncomfortable questions would be the least of my worries if I should wake him.

That he hadn't noticed my presence over the past few days spoke of either my skill at hiding myself…or his obsession with this mysterious project of his.

I took a quick glance around. Most of the soldiers were still asleep, though I doubted any of them would report me to Scriver. The only people I could see moving around were the sentries at the edges of the camp.

After a few moments of experimenting, I managed to engage the sight magnification on my helmet. It wasn't precise, but I was able to see the top piece of flimsiplast. However, the darkness and Scriver's handwriting made it difficult to actually read from where I was standing. I was only able to make out four words, written in Ancient Sith.

"Greatest triumph" and "Greatest failure."

As I brought my helmet's sights back to normal, I was suddenly made aware of the fact that I wasn't alone anymore. Something sharp was quickly pressed lightly against my throat, though it wasn't cutting through the material of the body suit.

But if it was a vibro-weapon, it wouldn't need too much force to slit my throat despite the armorweave.

I dared to glance down, finding a lean, red-skinned arm holding the handle of the weapon at my neck. As I followed the limb up to its owner's face, a smile spread across their face, white teeth contrasting against the dark.

Tyrene wasn't dressed in her armor, rather a black sleeveless tunic and pants. The cold didn't seem to bother her in the slightest.

"Well isn't this a familiar sight? A curious Shadow, poking his nose where it shouldn't be." She commented in a quiet, sing-song tone.

I didn't say anything. While Tyrene owed me, I barely knew anything about her. Certainly not enough to trust her not to give me away to Darth Scriver.

Instead, I returned my gaze to the Sith Lord's tent. The Pureblood followed my gaze before an "ah" of understanding escaped her lips.

She rolled her eyes, "Oh very well, if you insist on being cloak and dagger about this." The knife was pulled away from my throat, only to be repositioned at the base of my spine where the armor didn't cover, "Move."

Her tone implied I didn't have a choice in the matter. I started slowly walking in the direction she indicated.

That direction, it turned out, was the tent she had commandeered. Thankfully, she didn't seem to share it with the other apprentice. The Sith roughly shoved me inside, causing me to tumble to the ground.

Admittedly, what came out of my mouth as I rolled over wasn't the wisest thing I'd ever said.

"Is this the part where you have your way with me?"

The knife in her hand blurred, embedding itself in the ground only a centimeter or two away from my crotch.

"…Getting mixed signals here."

The unamused look she shot me was an indicator of what she thought of my pithy comments, "My standards are not nearly so low, nor are your attempts at distractions working.

Now, I believe we were about to have a civil discussion. And remove the helmet before I force you to. I prefer to be able to see the face of the person I am speaking with."

I was all too glad to comply with that command, setting it down next to me. I hated wearing the helmet when I didn't have to.

The vibro-dagger shook for a moment before flying back to Tyrene's hand. With a deft flick, it flew back into a sheathe in her boot that I hadn't noticed before. She didn't really need it to be a threat to me and we both knew it.

"Understand that the only reason I have not made my Master aware of your presence is that I owe you a debt.

I despise leaving debts unpaid," Tyrene explained quietly, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Now, you are going to tell me what you are doing here. Spying on a Dark Lord's affairs is a foolish gamble at best. Ambitious, but foolish."

I shook my head, "That, I stumbled on by accident. I didn't even know your Master was involved when I came here or that he was your Master either.

I needed to be out of the Academy for a few days and hunting Tu'kata was a welcome distraction."

She raised an eyebrow ridge, not quite believing what I was saying.

"I didn't know about anything strange going on out here until I arrived and started clearing out the packs," I elaborated, "There's something here. Something strong. It's pulling in the Tu'kata in droves and keeping them here. I suspect it's also what brought Darth Scriver here."

Tyrene furrowed her brow, "…Do you think…?"

"That the blood he had you collect is going to be used for whatever's happening here?" I finished her though, "Possibly. If something's hidden here, he might be using the blood in a ritual to break a spell of concealment."

She stared at me for a long minute, though she did not look happy.

"I do not appreciate being used, Aldrex," She said at last.

"Used?" I didn't think I was using her. At least not deliberately.

"Did another one of your feelings "guide" you here like last time?" The Sith continued, "Or did you just follow me to my Master, hoping that you might steal his secrets? Trusting that my need to repay a debt would prevent me from giving you up to him?"

"Neither," I answered truthfully. It really was a coincidence that we were both here, at least in my view, "The Second Platoon was deployed here. Like you, they owe me a favor, which I can't collect on if they get eaten by Tu'kata. While I am curious about what's happening here, I could care less about your Master's affairs."

The disbelieving look on her face almost hurt. Almost, "Then why disguise yourself as a common soldier?"

"To avoid the very things you're accusing me of. If I was walking around as an acolyte in broad daylight, I might have been accused to trying to steal from Darth Scriver," I explained.

"Unlike a lot of Sith, I don't go picking fights when I don't have to. If I can get by without causing a fuss, I will. Believe it or not, I'm just here to hide out for a few days."

She nearly said something but stopped herself at the last moment. Closing her mouth, she was quiet again for a few moments as she searched my face for something, "Whether I believe you or not does not matter.

I will not give you away. But should you become a threat to my place in Darth Scriver's power base, my debt will become void and I will no longer be so lenient."

As the Sith Apprentice got up to leave, I stopped her, "Before you go…what gave me away?"

Tyrene looked over her shoulder at me, "Your blade. It is distinctive and I know what it is. My recent… extra curricular studies made sure of that." She paused, "Also, you do not walk like a soldier. Be thankful that neither Darth Scriver nor Ortan have noticed."

With that, she left, likely to go do exactly what I was going to do. But despite being threatened yet again, I had a smirk on my face as I brushed the sand off my helmet and redonned it.

Tyrene had been listening, those weeks ago.

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