Strange Angels: The Secret History of the Sith

do i have to download the movies in TFN theater? i just want to watch them with windows media player.

 

it looks that way. sorry

will you read my two fanfics? both have my name on them-empress of justice thank you.

 

I have a feeling this will wind up in Community or Communications, but anyway: Whenever you view something in Media Player, you are downloading it, but only temporarily. When you click on the file, it will download to your TEMP directory, and play the file using the appropriate player (Quick Time, Media Player, etc,) assuming that you have it installed.

 

Since most of the films are in Quicktime format, you won't be able to watch them in Media Player unless you have the full beefy version.

But regardless of the file type, you can save them to your hard drive and watch them later.

 

I guess this is the cross-roads between single-author and round robin. I've been working over on the "Sith Uprising" threads ( Forum9/HTML/001640.htmlPlanning thread , Forum9/HTML/001727.htmlDark Uprising -- the first story -- and Forum9/HTML/001807.htmlAspects of the Force -- the second story), and we've been having quite a bit of fun writing about the first steps of the Sith order. But there are a thousand years between the Sith uprising and Darth Sidious, and even if you figure the slow pace of say, three Masters per century, that still leaves the stories of thirty Sith to tell before TPM. So, my thought is, anyone who wants to make up one of these Sith Masters and tell a story about him or her, do so. Don't worry if it's in order; just say when in the timeline it is.

I'm starting with a short tale about my Sith order character, Zemai Laryhi, who is the first apprentice after the Sith/Jedi war. If anyone wants to use her descendents, who live on the world of La'azum and keep the ancient records, feel free, though she is the last of that name to actually be a Sith.

 

PS -- before I start, the Laryhi family remains essentially on the good side of the Force; they're just... how to put it... a bit aloof. They also appear in Forum9/HTML/001294.htmlThe Penitent , which takes place after Return of the Jedi.

Carrier of the Dead
Time: About forty years after the first Sith uprising (thirty years after "Aspects of the Force"); approximately 1000 years before The Phantom Menace.
Sequence: Zemai Laryhi -- Darth Olashya M'Traet -- is the first apprentice after the uprising, the first to fall under the "Rule of Two." Her Master was Darth Bane, the only Sith to survive the war with the Jedi.


Mother, Karik Laryhi thought, the familiar tangle of emotions braiding itself around his heart when he saw her there, a small, dark silouhette against the window.

The love was untangled enough, he supposed. Though she had never been easy for other people to love, Karik himself couldn't remember a time when she hadn't lived at the center of his soul. But the rest? The anger, the bewilderment, the

(fear)

uneasiness about what she might do when she slipped out from under her name and walked the night in her black cloaks?

Those were not quite as easy to bear. He wondered sometimes, when she came to him in the dark clothes, if she was even Zemai Laryhi inside them. Was he dealing with the Mayor of Coruscant? Or was he dealing with Olashya M'Traet, the Carrier of the Dead, the whispered shadow who enforced the order of the galaxy with a heavy, unforgiving hand? It didn't matter, he supposed. They were both his mother, and, for good or ill, she was devoted to him, and he to her.

She turned. Her face was as beautiful as ever, and as distant, haunted hazel eyes casting deep yellow shadows under the hood of her cloak. Her hair had only begun to go gray, and the thatch of sand-colored bangs that covered her forehead was unchanged. Karik thought it strange; he thought she ought to look used up from the deadly dance she'd been doing all these years. The Dark Side was stronger than she was. But she had held her own.

So far.

"I didn't come to cause you pain, Karik."

"I know that, Mother."

"I have missed you on Coruscant. There's been a great deal of activity -- "

"Yes, I heard about the riots."

A flash of her eyes -- perhaps they were growing slightly more yellow -- and a sharp exhalation. "The riots were insignificant, and have been stopped. Permanently."

Karik did not ask how she had accomplished this. It was not a question he wanted an answer for.

She moved away from the window. "I was talking about the new library. It's finally finished. It houses literatures in all the known languages of the Republic, and archives the classics of all the peoples."

"That's wonderful."

"All except one."

Karik had not been brought up in the ways of the Jedi -- or in his Mother's ways -- but he was not completely numb to the Force, and it sent a chill skittering up his arms. "Mother... "

She shook her head, and pushed the hood of the cloak down. The sun caught in the waves of her loose hair, surrounding her head with a golden halo. Karik didn't bother to reflect on the irony. When she spoke, her voice was soft and calm. "I need to ask something of you."

"You said that you'd promised my father... " It was a desperate attempt to delay whatever she planned to say; Karik had no idea who his father was, and had made little effort to find out, but Mother took her promises to him seriously.

"I will not break that promise," she said. "I will not ask you to become as I am. I don't even wish it. I wish for you to stay here. You've made a good life here among the Ka'alyan. A whole new position of authority." The proud smile on her face might have led some to mistake her for any other mother taking pleasure in the achievements of her adult child, but to Karik, it only caused a flood of relief. He'd hoped she would take well to his newly created position as Astaya -- Seer -- for the Ka'alyan religious sect. He'd hoped it, because he'd feared she would ask him to leave and follow her. She took hi

 

I'd love to contribute, but I can't think of anything...
think, think, think...

 

<<<And five minutes later, I come up with something!!!>>>

Jastiss Otonna jumped through the air gracefully, and landed softly in the dry sand of Tattooine. He had been practising martial arts since sunsup, and the suns were setting now.

The two suns slowly melted into the flat horizon, leaving a pinkish red sky in their wake.

He missed it, he really did.

Jastiss had not been back on his home planet for over thirty years; he was fourty eight now, and the silver hairs were starting to show through his dirty blonde hair.

Jastiss sat down, and let his feet hang over the edge of the clif that he was atop of, and soaked in the last rays of the day. He remembered the last time he watched that sunset, before leaving for the Jedi Academy to train as a Jedi Knight. He watched the suns set with her....

Stop reminiscing, you old fool, Jastiss reprimanded himself sharply, It's been thirty years. You're over her.

The Jedi Master chuckled to himself softly. before climbing to his feet and turning away from the cliff edge.

He wondered what Jai'ana Din Ronin, his old master, would say if she had been there at that moment.

'A Jedi does not live in the past. He only learns from it.'

Yeah, that sounded about right.

Jastiss grabbed his cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders before climbing back into his speeder. He watched as the last slivers of light disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the desert to the mercy of the darkness.

<<<I'll add to this later with some sith in it, so dont worry. >>>

[This message has been edited by Loka Hask (edited 03-05-2000).]

[This message has been edited by Loka Hask (edited 03-05-2000).]

 

Well, that was going to be a one-shot, but now I want to know more about this... oh, well. I think it might be headed for the Son of the Suns prophecy now... I guess I won't be getting to "Outer Rim" this morning...
------------------

Zemai had never sought death, but it had always clung to her like wet wool, a rotting, uncomfortable thing that fitted itself to every imperfection in her skin.

Ironic then, that now, when she did seek it, it eluded her. Even through the pain of many lacerations and broken bones, she was alive. She could see her own shuttlecraft lying only five meters away.

She could still see her apprentice -- she'd given him the name Borliash, the old Coruscantian word for Terror (she would have preferred another name, but this one had come to her in a dream, and she had dutifully obeyed) -- standing on the landing platform four storeys above her. The wind blew at his cloak, and carried his derisive laugh down to her. He believed her to be dead.

That was well.

The duel could not continue much longer without drawing notice, and even Borliash was not foolish enough to do that. He had confronted her almost as soon as she had returned, accusing her of plotting the demise of the Sith. She'd considered simply letting him cut her down, but in the end, it wasn't in her nature. She knew that the blood on his hands would make the blood on her own look tepid and insignificant before he was done, but she would not allow him to add the cold-blooded murder of his Master to his list of crimes.

Somehow, she had convinced him, sold him on the idea that he would be able to trust Karik, on La'azum, and his line. Maker help her -- and them -- if the Sith ever learned the truth about the Laryhis of La'azum. The children of the prophecy, meant not as the quiet and helpful librarians she'd sold him on, but as the eternal headache of the Sith, at least until the coming of the Risen Dead. Zemai smiled through her pain. It would end there, at last.

But that was long ahead and far away, and right now, it was only beginning. She needed to slip away -- she could not have Mayor Laryhi found, in the cloaks of the Sith, bleeding to death after a lightsaber duel. She wasn't even supposed to carry the damnable thing, after being forced from the Jedi Temple. If she was found like this, the secrets would come out, the prophecy would unravel, and the end would not come at all.

She called out to the dead, to the nameless Sith whose memory she had kept her promise to preserve, to those who had died in the Uprising, to those who had died since. It was time to fill another prophecy.

She reached to the sky, weakly, and whispered, "Akira..."

At first, nothing happened, and she wondered if they would now abandon her. But they did not.

A cold finger of energy wound its way around her arm. The pain intensified, but strength returned. She reached out her other arm. "Jalex..."

One by one, they came to her, weaving themselves into her broken body, holding it together and giving her one last hold on life.

She used it. The agony of each step drove her nearly mad, but she made her way, slowly to the shuttlecraft. The Dead held her, and she carried them, as she had once dreamed. It was unpleasant, and their voices were full of strident demands, but she was still in control. And she knew where she wanted to be.

The shuttle was not made for long-range trips, but it could handle them in emergencies. Zemai thought this qualified. She reached out one cold, trembling hand, and set course for Tatooine.

They would not stay with her for much longer.

But she didn't want to die alone.

[This message has been edited by JediGaladriel (edited 03-05-2000).]

 

"Something's troubling you, my son," Jastiss sat at the edge of his old, dusty bed and stared at the blue apparition that was in the form of his father.

"I felt something, Karik. I'm not sure, but I think..."

Karik Otonna stared back into Jastiss' eyes. "After all these years of being a Jedi, you still are not sure of what you feel? That is not the Jastiss Otonna I know."

Jastiss' eyes narrowed at his late father. "With all due respect, the last time we ever met physically was when I was eight. The Jastiss you knew was excited whenever his mother-" Jastiss' voice caught in his throat as he thought of his mother.

It seemed to strike a chord with his father, too. "I really loved her, Jastiss. You have to believe that."

Jastiss squeezed his eyes shut. "Please, Karik, can we change the subject?"

Karik's form strode across the room and sat in a chair. "If you wish. Tell me about what you felt."

"I think I felt..." her name meant as much to him as his mother's, but struck a slightly different note within. "...Zemai."

Karik raised an eyebrow. "I see. I remember her. The last time I had ever spoken to her was when she was eight. You two had something in common."

Jastiss smirked. "No offence, father, but you must be the most cinical dead Jedi I have ever met."

"No offence, Jastiss, but you must be the most unprofessional live Jedi I have ever known," Karik countered, with a wry smile on his face. His face then sobered, getting back to the task at hand. "As for Zemai, yes, she is in pain. Immence pain. She is seeking out someone."

"Seeking someone? Who?"

Karik crossed his arms and began to fade away. "Wait here long enough and she'll tell you..."

[This message has been edited by Loka Hask (edited 03-05-2000).]

 

Hmmm... maybe we should get to the beginning of this charming little romance... (Though honestly, this is helping me get a better feel for it.)
----

The weaker ones were losing hold, and the tattered muscles of her body wouldn't hold her long without them. Time was short.

But she had made it this far. She could make it just a little bit further.

She guided the shuttle down into the atmosphere, on the day side of the planet. She was operating entirely on instinct, following the urgings of a long-abandoned bond. It was foolishness, she knew, to go to Jastiss now. Another day, and there would be no more obvious paths between them, other than a long-distance friendship over the years (it would have looked more suspicious, they had agreed, had she suddenly frozen him out). The rumors about Karik's parentage had never centered on Jastiss (had they, she would never have risked the name); only Coris had suspected -- known -- and he, in an act of greater generosity than Zemai had recognized at the time, had kept the secret for her. She supposed it was possible that Jai'ana Din Ronin knew as well, but she didn't know for sure.

If she went back to Coruscant, or simply dove the shuttle into one of the suns, no one would ever suspect that there had been more to it. After all, the last time she had even seen Jastiss face to face was when Karik was six; that was when she'd promised never to allow their son to become Sith. It had been... a difficult meeting. But to reveal Karik was to condemn him to death, and they both knew it.

So why risk it now? Why tell Karik the truth, or enough of it for him to guess the rest? And why, after all these years, return here?

Oh, but that was easy. Her heart had never been complete in and of itself, and she had spent her childhood trying to fill it with soothing fantasies. It had been enough for so very long, but then, for that one brief moment in her life, it had been completed, and no fantasy would suffice afterward. She wanted it to be whole, once more, before she died. The Sith could hold most of her together. But the other half of her heart was here, buried in the desert sand.

She turned the autopilot off, and let the Force -- the Light or the Dark, she no longer knew the difference -- guide her hands on the controls. The sky around her shifted from the black of space to the bright, rich blue of the desert sky, the single thin cloud over the mountains catching the gold of early sunset. The Dead wrenched at her soul and sent a wave of pain through her body; they had little tolerance for beauty. She lowered the landing gear, and couldn't stop a small scream at the jar of the impact on her broken bones. In her mind, the Dead laughed.

She hit the button that opened the hatch, leaving a smear of blood on the white metal, and dragged herself into the night air. The Dead were breaking free quickly now, even some of the stronger ones. The shattered bones in her right ankle suddenly came apart, and she went sprawling, with a scream, into the sand.

But she never hit the ground, for as the Dead left, the living found her, and held her heart together one last time...


[This message has been edited by JediGaladriel (edited 03-05-2000).]

 

<<<I totally agree with you, Gala. It helps alot.>>>

Jastiss looked down at Zemai, who had streaks of blood coming from some unkown wound in her head, along with many other lacerations and bruises all over her body.

Jastiss clenched his teeth, and hugged Zemai gently. Why...

Zemai looked up at him weakly. She smiled, and ran a finger through Jastiss' long hair. Jastiss could feel her voice inside his head. It was time, Jastiss. You know that.

Jastiss shook his head. "No, I don't. If I had been there-"

But you weren't. You didn't know.

Jastiss' throat tightened as a small tear escaped the corner of his eye. "Please, Zemai...."

Zemai smiled weakly and put a finger to Jastiss' lips to silence him. You're sad, I understand that, Zemai looked away from Jastiss, with a look of anguish coming over her face. This is not easy for me, either. But, it was the only way.

"The only way for what?" Jastiss sighed. "Zemai, talk to me."

There is nothing more to say. Please Jastiss... just hold me. I want to know that you're really here.

Jastiss smiled, and moved some strands of hair out of Zemai's eyes. It has been a long time, hasn't it?

The suns were getting lower in the sky now, and darkness started to take over the desert.

Too long.

"It's just like when we met," Jastiss said, nodding to the two suns lowering farther into the horizon.

It is beautiful.

The two sat, for what seemed like an eternity, on the desert sand, watching the suns lower past the horizon.

Soon, the entire desert was bathed in a beautiful red from the light of the suns. He wondered how his son, Karik, was doing. He would have asked, but didn't dare break the silence that he and Zemai shared.

He is a good man, Zemai's voice said in his mind, answering his unasked question, Like his father.

"Zemai?"

Yes?

"Why does it have to be like this? Why did we have to meet under these circumstances? Why does it all have to end now?"

Too many questions, so little answers. It is believed there is an answer to every question in the universe, if you look hard enough.

Jastiss hugged her again. I don't want to search. I want to stay here. With you.

 

Peace. At last.

Zemai moved her hand -- she could see, in the fading light, that two of the fingers were broken and misshapen, but she couldn't feel them anymore -- and brushed it across Jastiss' cheek. She was grateful to be able to speak to his mind; she barely had the breat to remain alive as it was. But suddenly, she didn't want to die.

I want to stay, she whispered to his mind. He'd always had a way of making her admit the truth. I am frightened of... of whatever lies ahead for me. I have reason to be.

A rush of comfort, wordless... but she knew that he understood what she was saying.

Perhaps... perhaps you can see Karik now. They've always known us to be friends. A... sympathy call of sorts. And then you could stay... know him... A well of regrets opened at the center of her soul, and she felt the tears begin, running with the blood on her cheeks. I stole him, I kept him, you should have...

Shh. No.

Hold me closer. I'm so frightened.

I don't want to hurt you...

You have never hurt me, and you never will.

His arms tightened around her. She knew that her broken bones were moving, but the comfort of being here again was to large to be overcome. Behind Jastiss' head, she saw the last rays of the two suns, striking the sheer, reflective sides of the mesa, one seeming to float on either side of his head, catching his blonde hair and setting it into a halo of fire --

Son of the suns! Her heart soared suddenly.

"What? I don't understand..."

But Zemai couldn't explain. She could see only the light, glowing in the sky, the dream of the dusty plain, and the sad-eyed woman with her own smile, far off near the horizon. "Beauty," she whispered. "Glory. Son of the suns... "

Don't talk.

It's getting dark, Jastiss. It will get darker. I won't see the suns rise. But just when the dark is deepest... Son of the... The thought trailed off, and she looked at the suns again, framing his face. We'll be free then, she thought absently. It was a distant thought, disconnected and without context. She didn't know what "free" might mean, really.

A wrenching pain pulled her back into her body, and she cried out from it. Jastiss kissed her forehead and rocked her in the cooling night. You're safe, Zemai.

"I believe you," she whispered, and slipped away, into whatever darkness waited for her.

[This message has been edited by JediGaladriel (edited 03-26-2000).]

 

To help keep track, I've started a chart of the Sith from Darth Bane to Darth Vader (nothing really detailed, obviously). Zemai's the only one who's filled in all the way, because she's the only one I have all the facts on (I'm probably not going to fill in the movie ones, since we're not writing them). http://members.aol.com/fernwithy/vadersmask/sithchart.htmlThe Line of the Sith is at my homepage. If you want to put together one of the Sith Masters along the line, just drop me a note at fernwithy@aol.com, and I'll add the info you send. I'll need:

1. Name (Sith and normal, if there's a difference)
2. Species/gender
3. Era (using TPM as the base year)
4. Biography -- a brief, disinterested bio, as you might find in a quick reference encyclopedia.

Also, just give the number in the sequence (you'll see them on the left side of the chart). I've put in forty, just as an easy round number, and seven slots are taken (though slot 3 is Darth Borliash, about whom the only thing I know is that Zemai thinks he's not very bright).

[This message has been edited by JediGaladriel (edited 03-06-2000).]

 

Okay, does anyone else have anything to add to this story, or should I tag a "The End" on it, and open the thread to the story of a new Sith Master or apprentice?

Loka, I just wanted to tell you that this line:

Too many questions, so little answers. It is believed there is an answer to every question in the universe, if you look hard enough.

is absolutely, perfectly Zemai.

 

My compliments - you two write so well together, it blends seamlessly. I'm still working my way through the 'Uprising' thread, but I like the Zemai character and the reference to her in 'The Penitent'.

The story itself is at a good end, I think. The 'son of suns' prophesy belongs to its own tale imho. You have in any case a good transition (sp?) for it.

[This message has been edited by Ulrike (edited 03-08-2000).]

 

Okay, then. It's been four days since I called for last comments, and there were none, so I'll call "The End" for "Carrier of the Dead" (sniff, bye, Zem)...

I'll start a new one soon, right on the heels of this, from Karik Laryhi's POV, as he's watching Borliash, so Loka, if you want to continue (obviously, Zem's not going any further), there's a place (and Rogue, if you want Coris to do anything, I'd guess he's still alive, too).

I don't mean to set a pattern of having to follow one on the heels of another -- if someone wants to do, like Master #24 or something after the Borliash story, that's cool.

 

I think I'll help you with Borliash, (Jastiss may come by Karik Laryhi a visit) and once that's done, I may post a short story on a Sith I thought up a long time ago. (At one time, I had created about ten Sith, each with different backgrounds and such, and Zalferix was one of them.)

May the force be with you.

 

True Believer

Borliash was a true believer.

He had once had another name, other memories, but he had been glad to throw them into the swirling maelstrom of the Dark Side. He had been a weak, pathetic child once, but that child no longer existed, and neither did anyone who remembered him. Now, his first memory was of the lady in the shadows, watching him through yellowed eyes. It was a month before she'd scattered a group of bigger boys around him, sending them screaming into the streets with visions of terror in their minds, and a year before she'd named him.

He'd thought her so strong and grand then.

Pity, that she'd turned out to be so weak, but Borliash had taken what he needed from her. What Olashya had taught by rote, Borliash had learned with passion. What she had looked upon with distaste, he had embraced and amplified. What she had restrained in herself, he revelled in.

She'd sent the bigger boys running into the streets. Borliash had sent them into traffic, off the edges of the platforms... and, after awhile, he'd ceased to bother with mind tricks. From the fourth on, he'd simply killed. By then, he was bigger. Olashya had taught him to use the Force, and to fight. He had taught himself how to grow bigger and stronger. Olashya settled for mild discomfort in her presence. Borliash wanted sheer terror.

He disdained the idea of a "cover" life, like she'd had. There was no mild-mannered civil servant to hide behind. Borliash made a living -- he made it by stealing or claiming anything he wanted, then selling it. Spice, slaves, land... he had a thriving business providing real estate contracts to people who wanted to stay beneath the notice of the law. These were managed by an oily rodent of a man who kept the books. Borliash didn't like trusting him, but someone's name had to appear. And all the paper trails led straight back to him.

Of this life, Olashya had known nothing, or so he'd thought until she'd come back from La'azum. After explaining about the new archives, she'd noted Borliash's new clothes. And she'd proceeded to list any number of his criminal activities. Worse, she'd told him that she planned to turn him over to the Jedi Council, even if it meant turning herself over in the process. He'd had no choice other than killing her. The business, he could have lived without. But when she was willing to betray the Order to the Jedi hypocrites, who spoke peace out of their faces and destroyed their enemies more ruthlessly than the Sith with their hands, Borliash knew he needed to act against her. He was sorry she'd gone down as easily as she had, but really, the weak should not play at being Masters.

He thought carefully about whether or not to follow her instructions to go read the archives here on La'azum, with her son (a weakness, Borliash thought, that he would not allow himself, or any apprentice he would take; it always made Olashya soft). Leaving a trail could be dangerous. But he was a Believer. He didn't want the memories left behind. He wanted every Sith apprentice to know what had happened in the Uprising. He wanted the names of the fallen, and the names of the murderous Jedi, recognized and burned into the galaxy's memory.

Most of all, he wanted their anger for his own.

And now, he would have it.

Borliash stepped quietly into the Hall of Seeing.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Karik Laryhi had felt the approach of his mother's killer for an hour. He was no Jedi, but Borliash's was not a subtle presence. So he had time to consider a course of action. Mother had not wanted him killed. Her insane "course of action" -- she'd built this monster who stood at the threshold of the Tr'astari'shal, and Karik felt him to be some part of her, however wretched.

The part of her that you would have burned out yourself if you'd known where to begin.

He clenched his teeth. That was not the promise he'd made.

"You are the Astaya?" Borliash asked, in a low, rumbling voice, a whisper of frozen midnight.

Karik nodded, and tried not to reveal that he knew how his mother had di

 

I might participate in this, I don't know. My main problem is that it's a Sith story and Coris is a Jedi. How would I go about it?

 

Well, I put in Borliash's motive in killing Zemai as sort of an invite... either she was actually going to turn him in to the Council, or she made him believe she was going to. It's late in the game... is Coris on the Council? I have a feeling that the place this story is going is toward "containing" Borliash in some way (I wasn't going to enter his point-of-view, but he's so darned pushy... ). Maybe two Jedi and a librarian-to-the-Sith can figure something out.

 

Borliash stayed four days in the Tr'astari'shal, absorbed in the histories of the Sith. Karik could feel him revelling in vicarious rage. The sky itself seemed to respond, unleashing violent rainstorms across the plains of La'azum. The power was lost at one point, and Borliash had used the glow from his red saber to read by. He had not slept.

He finally emerged on the morning of the fifth day. He looked at Karik with blazing eyes and clenched fists, and thundered, "I... am... THEM!"

Karik had merely lowered his eyes, and waited for the monstrosity to disappear. He had not wasted the four days himself. Borliash had woven himself deep into the warp of the criminal underworld. It was a stronger power base than Karik wanted him to have. Not politics... but their misshapen mirror. Too close for comfort. He had to keep the other half of his promise.

One plain truth was that he could not reveal Borliash as a Sith. It would be revealing Mother, and he would prefer that she was remembered as Mayor Laryhi, who built libraries and universities. Another plain truth was that he had no idea how to go about containing Borliash; he would need to enlist help. Maybe in the future, when his descendents were numerous enough to handle their own business

(wouldn't it be useful to marry and have children before you start counting your descendents?)

they would not need to risk contacting the Jedi. But until then, he would need to find a way to do so, without breaking any of his promises.

It was plain enough how to fool those on the outside -- his mother had remained close to her Jedi master (perversely close, Karik thought; she had murdered at least three people who had opposed Coris Hakim, and that didn't seem like the sort of thing a Jedi Master would appreciate), and a visit to the man would not be thought strange. But hiding his purpose once he arrived? How could he, an untrained barely-Sensitive, hide his mind from a Jedi Master?

He shook his head.

There was nothing to be done for it. Borliash needed containing, and he needed the assistance of the Jedi to do it. He would have to find a way.

He waited until Borliash had been gone for a week, and was spotted involved in his business far out in the Outer Rim, then took a transport back to Coruscant.

Back home.

[This message has been edited by JediGaladriel (edited 03-21-2000).]

 

?Please, Grand-dah! Just one more!?

Little hands pulled at the sleeves of his tunic and clung to his boots, trying to halt his progress as he walked across the bedroom. Coris Hakim eased himself into a nearby armchair, smiling as he pried a child?s fingers off his arm. ?It?s nearly your bed time, Aiko. Your mother will yell at me if I let you stay up any longer.?

The toddler stuck out her lip. ?Mama won?t know.?

Coris bent down to dislodge Aiko?s twin image from his leg. ?A little help, Chan??

Chander shook his head. ?Notta ?till you tells us another story.?

?But I?ve told you every one I know.?

?Tell us again!?

?Your mother will be mad at me??

Two pairs of eyes ? one hazel, the other blue ? peered up at him beseechingly. It was worse than any Force manipulation Coris had ever faced. ?Please? One story? Then we got to sleep, we promise! Please, Grand-dah? Please??

He flopped back in the chair and groaned. Seeing their grandfather?s defeated expression, the twins wasted no time in clambering into his lap, using the folds of his tunic for handholds. The man grunted as they jockeyed for position. ?We won?t be able to do this much anymore,? he said. ?You two are getting heavy.?

The corners of Aiko?s mouth curved up in a smile that never failed to melt his heart. ?Nothing too heavy for you!? she declared. Chan nodded in agreement.

Coris chuckled and bounced them both on his knees. ?So. What will it be tonight??

?The Three Men from Adumar!?

?Dragon of Tatooine.?

He shook his head. ?Not ?Dragon.? It always gives you nightmares.?

Mid-suggestion, the girl tilted her head to the side and peered into Coris? face, touching the stubble on his chin. Despite all urgings by companions to grow a beard (?You?d look so dignified!?) he?d remained clean-shaven even after he?d become a Master. ?Why sad, Grand-dah??

?I?m not sad, Aiko.?

Chan frowned, his tiny fist tightening around a knot of his grandfather?s tunic. ?Mama says lying?s bad, Grand-dah.?

?I?m sorry.? Coris sighed. ?I shouldn?t try to hide anything from you two.? Their faces looked up at him, listening attentively, and without his actually meaning to, the words came spilling out. ?I lost someone dear to me a few days ago.?

?Funeral fires?? Chan asked.

The children were still very young, and many things were confusing to them, but they knew about death. They knew the word was synonymous with a burning pyre and tears and sorrow. They knew death played a role in life. But they had no idea just how big ? Coris hoped they never would.

He thought back to a few days before, to the Holonets.

Mayor of Coruscant ? Missing!

Mayor Zemai Laryhi has disappeared?. not seen for several days? no contact with associates? utterly vanished? foul play suspected? authorities combing Coruscant? no body found as of yet?

They would find no body. Mayor Laryhi was not missing. She had kept secrets from him, but Coris knew who and what she had become. He knew where she was, and although he didn?t want to believe it, the Force told him his suspicions were true. Zemai would not be returning to her seat on Coruscant.

He had known the day was coming. It had been inevitable, as inevitable as the sunrise. No power in the galaxy could have changed what had happened to her.

But that still didn?t banish away the guilt. Or the pain?

He shook his head slowly and squeezed his grandchildren?s? hands in his own. ?No, I don?t believe there will be.?

?There you are!? Three guilty heads turned toward the doorway and the woman in Jedi robes standing just inside, hands on hips. She pointed an accusing finger at Coris. ?You?ve got to be authoritative with them, father. They walk all over you.?

?They do not,? he said, replacing melancholy with feigned innocence as Aiko and Chander slid off his lap and leapt into their respective beds. ?I?m in complete control here.?

?That?s what they?re making you think.? The woman shook her head ruefully. ?They?re running amok.?

?Come now, Jan, you judge them too harshly.? Coris rose from the chair, went over to kiss his grandchildren on the forehead. ?Goodnight,

 

Well, I liked Zemai, I liked her very much.
Borliash on the other hand needs a kick in.. err, his tender parts. I'm waiting gleefully for a humilitating experience by a certain Jedi Master. *evil laugh*

 

I'm going to assume it's Jastiss who sent the card (?), since Karik wasn't there at the end. Unless, somehow, it was Zem?
-------------------------

I have information, Karik practiced in his mind. About some underworld activity in the Outer Rim. Conducted by someone calling himself Borliash. We should contain him.

The transport took him closer to the Jedi Temple. He could see it floating majestically toward him. How he had loved the look of it as a child, flying above Coruscant with Mother, in her private transport, as she pointed everything out to him.

"And that's -- "

"The Jedi Temple!" he would always say, clapping his hands.

"Yes, where Master Coris and the other sit to help protect the galaxy. Master Jastiss comes there sometimes, too. Do you remember Master Jastiss?"

But that was too distant, this wandering master. The Temple... it was the Temple that was so big and grand and...

Karik smiled to himself, though his heart twisted at the memory. How often she'd tried to get him to remember Jastiss Otonna! But he had been a silly child, and had not listened, and had not made the connection he needed to make.

Then again, neither had anyone else.

He wondered why. Now that he knew, it was obvious. Everything pointed to it. What other conclusion could people have reached?

It was just as well, he supposed. The Sith took their prophecies seriously, and they wouldn't think much of Jastiss Otonna's son serving as their archivist. Let them believe whatever it was they had believed for all these years. Karik hoped that someday, he would have children to protect from them; he didn't want to give them any more reason for notice.

The transport slowed, and came to a stop at the platform nearest the Temple. It was a six minute walk, but Karik gave himself fifteen before his appointment to meet with Master Coris Hakim. They had spoken frequently when he was a child, but it had been many years, and Karik felt oddly insecure.

Especially since he was preparing to lie.

I have information...

The minutes passed more quickly than he'd expected, and suddenly, the great doors of the Temple rose before him. The guard scanned him in, and announced him to the Council. He gripped the sides of his tunic (designed by a Ka'alya girl -- Resi, who his mother had looked at with enough interest to make Karik take a second look -- for his role as Astaya), and dried his palms on it.

The doors of the lift opened, and Karik Laryhi stepped into the Council room. Only Master Coris was there, standing with his back to the lift; this did not, as far as any of them knew, merit the attention of the full council.

"Welcome, Karik."

"Thank you, Master. I have... information. Information about - "

Master Coris turned to him now, and Karik could see that his face was drawn and filled with sorrow. "The need for lies is past, Karik, and I cannot bear them anymore."

Karik didn't know whether it was his words, or the tone of his voice, or that awful look on his face, but something broke through the thin scrim of ice he'd kept over his own grief since the arrival of Borliash. He felt his throat sieze up, and knew that if he did not find his way into the subject he'd come to discuss, the tears would begin, and they would not stop. He set his jaw, and bit out the words. "Mother is dead."