Sorani checked that her lightsabers were within easy reach before entering the cantina. There was no question that she was in a rough part of town – parts of Nar Shaddaa that didn’t qualify as ‘rough’ were rare, if they even existed. Something, however, felt wrong – or at least severely odd – about the place, and the feeling hadn’t been there when she’d passed before. Keeping her left hand on her parrying saber, Sorani let herself in. She surveyed the room as the door closed behind her.
The patronage was composed almost entirely of nonhumans and of beings so shrouded in clothing that it was impossible to tell. At the counter, two Rodian females exchanged banter, and several tables in back hosted Pazaak games. The band was holographic. As for the dancers, though they were live, only one was a Twi’lek. Sorani’s eyes lingered on the dancer for a moment – the lighting certainly did nothing for her yellow skin – before returning to the attempt to find Maraz.
Near the gambling tables, Sorani spotted a hooded figure sitting alone. The man – at least, that was the general shape of the figure – leaned back lazily in his chair with his feet on the table, legs crossed at the ankles. He wore black-and-gray robes that weren’t quite Jedi in their appearance, and his face was in shadow. Sorani couldn’t tell whether he had a lightsaber, but the aura of weirdness seemed to be centered about him. Whether or not that’s the one I’m looking for, I’m checking him out, Sorani decided, knitting her brow. Hand still on her short saber, she strode over to the man’s table. “Are you Maraz Vax?” she asked him.
The man adjusted his hood to better hide his eyes. “I take it your Twi’lek friend delivered the message?” he asked, not bothering to answer Sorani’s question. Sorani felt it shouldn’t have, but Maraz’s voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck. His tone was cultured, but with an arrogant bite to it that was only barely hidden by the almost-purring quality of the sound. Sorani was reminded of velvet laced with thousands of tiny poisoned needles: smooth and soft at first glance, but deadly. “What was her name? Loctho? Charming girl.” His mouth curled into a smug half-grin.
At that moment, Sorani decided that the feeling she had gotten was definitely wrongness rather than oddity. She spotted the long, silver-and-black cylinder of a dual-bladed lightsaber hanging from his belt, and cut to the chase. “What’s happened to you, Maraz?” she asked, half-accusing, half-worried.
“That,” said Maraz, his grin rapidly becoming a scowl, “is part of why I brought you here.” He paused. “I have, shall we say, a proposition for you.”
Sorani raised an eyebrow.
“You are in possession of a ship,” Maraz began. “I, on the other hand, am not. And my burning desire to remove all Sith from this galaxy appears to coincide with your own goals.”
At this, Sorani’s interest was sparked anew. “You mean you’ve not gone Sith yourself?” she asked in the same tone as before. All evidence so far – dual-bladed saber; robes that were almost, but not quite, Jedi; poisonous, arrogant tone; lazy posture; Loctho’s described interaction with him; and most of all, the intense wrong feeling around him – had been to the contrary. Doubtless, something was up.
“Make no mistake… Sorani. I did fall in with the Sith for a time, but they were hopelessly deluded in their ideas of power. I’m after revenge.” He hailed a waitress with a wave of his hand. “Malia, would you be so kind?”
The green Twi’lek returned shortly and served a pair of filled glasses. “On the house,” she said in a monotone.
“You’ve changed, Maraz,” Sorani stated. “What happened to the man I had met before? I remember you being one of the noblest Padawans I had ever met – greatest desire to do good – understood that there was darkness in everyone, and it needed to be fought…” A goad about the Council being right sparked in Sorani’s mind, but she squashed it.
Maraz’s scowl returned, deeper than before. “That man died long ago,” he said in a tone that bordered on threatening. “You know, doubtless, of the disturbance that your Council felt, prior to my leaving? I felt it as well – harder than they did – and for good reason.” He paused, and turned to fix Sorani in his invisible gaze; his eyes were still hidden in the shadow of his hood. “I watched my own planet burn,” he hissed, “at the hands of a Sith. I saw the truth that day: all my fighting that I’d done to quell darkness had been, and would be, in vain. Make no mistake, I had every desire and made every effort to halt the planet’s inexorable progress into its own sun, but for naught. The Jedi teachings that the Light was the only thing that could save a life shattered before me as I witnessed their utter failure. I barely escaped with my life – why? Because as I lay broken at Darth Fernus’s feet, I laughed. I laughed because I was going to die, and then I didn’t. I killed Fernus. And now… I want every other Sith to join him.”
So that’s it, Sorani thought. He fell, but without the temptation of power… Master Mical always said he was too melancholy. “And you want my help slaughtering them all,” Sorani deduced.
“You misunderstand me.” Maraz switched the positions of his feet and held his hands just below his chin, fingertips touching. “All I want from you is a flight off this metalbound hellhole of a moon, and as I understand that you and the Sith are not on the best of terms either, I imagined you might not object. I don’t care where we go, mind – as long as there are Sith for me to kill.”
“So it’s ‘we’ now?” Sorani crossed her arms. “I will not aid you in your vendetta, Maraz. I will grant you passage off of Nar Shaddaa, but you will have no aid from me in your revenge.”
“Fine by me.” Maraz stretched, catlike, and placed his hands behind his still-hooded head. “I’ve become adept enough at killing that I wouldn’t need your help, anyway.”
“And we’re going to work on that, too,” Sorani added, noting her disgust at his casual words.
Maraz laughed mirthlessly. “You’d be wasting your time, Jedi,” he said, examining his fingernails. “Your religion has already proven itself to be foolishness.”
“I’m not a Jedi anymore,” Sorani muttered.
Maraz’s mouth twisted itself in a semblance of disgust. “You're close enough,” he muttered back.
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This is eventually going to be much, MUCH longer than just this. Novel-length. And I know what you're thinking - female Jedi, male Sith, same ship, oh, I know where this is going... well, HA! YOU'RE WRONG!
