Rule of Two

by Drew Karpyshyn

  Her Master’s words hadn’t made sense at the time, but as they came in to land near the tiny, dilapidated shack Caleb called home, she began to understand. There was power in this place; it called to her, but in a strange and unfamiliar language.

  She could smell it in the air when the cargo doors of their ship opened, and she could feel it beneath her feet when she jumped down from the ship. With each step she took, the ground seemed to vibrate, humming with a sound too quiet to hear, but deep enough that she could feel it in the back of her teeth.

  Darovit walked behind her, manipulating the controls that guided the Loranda’s medical gurney. It floated along beside him, supporting Bane’s still-unconscious form. As he had been when Zannah brought him forth from Belia’s stronghold, her Master was once again being unceremoniously transported like cargo hovering a meter above the ground. This time, however, he was supported by repulsorlifts rather than the Force.

  “This place is amazing,” Darovit breathed. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. So … raw.”

  Zannah recalled that, even though he lacked the power of the Jedi or Sith, her cousin was also attuned to the Force. She briefly wondered if it was possible that he shared the same type of talent as Caleb, then decided it made no difference why she was here. Four days had passed since they’d left Tython, and Bane had grown steadily weaker. If they didn’t find help for him here, her Master would die.

  Judging from her first glance, she didn’t hold out much hope for his salvation. As was common on Ambria, they were surrounded on all sides by a desolate, arid wasteland stretching out as far as the eye could see. The only features of the landscape, other than a few scattered rock outcroppings, were Caleb’s shack and fire pit. The camp appeared to be deserted.

  The shack was small, a few meters on each side. The walls were angled at forty-five degrees, meeting at a peak in the center, making the structure resemble a crudely built pyramid. Where or how Caleb had acquired the wood was impossible to say, but it was obvious he hadn’t replaced it anytime recently. The timber was faded and bleached by years in the sun, and though it wouldn’t rot in Ambria’s dry climate, hundreds of long vertical cracks had formed in the grain as the moisture was leached away. On the wall facing the fire pit was a small doorway leading into the hut. A tattered blanket hung down across it, fluttering slightly in the desert wind.

  The fire pit was nothing more than a small circle of round stones, scorched and blackened from years of smoke and flame. A metal stand supported a large iron pot over the center of the circle for cooking, though the pot was empty and the fire was cold.

  Zannah remembered from Bane’s tale how Caleb had plunged his own hand into the pot when it was filled with boiling soup, scalding himself to prove to her Master he feared no pain and couldn’t be threatened or intimidated.

  Ten years ago the healer had initially refused to heal her Master, though ultimately Bane had compelled him by threatening the life of Caleb’s daughter. Zannah wondered if, should they find him, he would refuse to help Bane again.

  “Hello?” Darovit called out, his voice sounding small in the emptiness all around them. “Hello?”

  Zannah moved slowly to the ramshackle hut and drew back the blanket in the door. The only thing inside was a small sleeping mat in the corner. She stepped back from the door, peering out at the empty wastelands around the camp to see if there was anywhere else Caleb might have gone. Darovit mimicked her actions, then offered up the only logical conclusion.

  “Nobody’s here.”

  It wasn’t just Caleb that was missing, Zannah had to admit. Where were the medicines the healer would use to cure those who sought his aid? Where were the basic supplies—food, water, fuel for the fire—he would need to survive?

  She recalled that Caleb had come to Ambria to escape the war between the Jedi and the Sith. Unfortunately for him, the war had eventually followed him even to this remote world. Yet the healer had maintained a steadfast neutrality during the conflict, refusing to aid followers of either the dark side or the light; only Bane had successfully compelled him to make an exception to his rule. Maybe with the end of the war, he had renounced his solitary ways and returned to the world of his birth, reintegrating himself into galactic society. It was just one of several possibilities that would explain his disappearance.

  He could have died. It had been ten years since Bane had visited the camp, and though Caleb couldn’t be that old, it was possible something had happened to him in the ensuing decade. Ambria could be a harsh and dangerous world; the healer might have been slain and devoured by the hssiss, the fearsome carnivorous lizards that sometimes emerged from the depths of Lake Natth to feed.

  The planet had its share of sentient predators, too. The handful of people who still lived on the world survived by picking through the remains of the battles that had once raged over its surface and in the skies above, finding damaged items and old technology they could restore and sell offworld. Most of the junkers, as they were called, were simple folk just trying to get by. But a few had become desperate criminals, willing to kill over anything of value—like Caleb’s missing collection of medicine and supplies.

  Or maybe the healer had fallen victim to some disease or affliction even he couldn’t cure. If he had died of natural causes, it wouldn’t take long until the various desert scavengers carried off the last of his remains, leaving behind no evidence of what had happened.

  It was clear there was no help to be found here, but there was no point in going anywhere else. Bane had a day, at most, before the orbalisk toxins reached lethal levels in the tissues of his body. Zannah simply stood there, unable to even think what she should do next. And then she remembered another detail from her Master’s tale.

  Caleb had tried to conceal his daughter from Bane. Her Master had easily discovered her cowering inside the shack; there was no other place to hide in the small camp. At least, there hadn’t been ten years ago.

  “Wait here,” she said to Darovit, leaving him to watch over Bane on his gurney.

  She went back into the shack, kicking the sleeping mat aside to reveal a small trapdoor in the floor. She used the Force to fling it open, and was rewarded with the sight of a man staring up at her from a small cellar.

  His expression wasn’t one of fear, nor even anger. Not exactly. He looked more like he was weary; as if he knew his discovery was going to lead to a long and tedious exchange.

  “Out,” Zannah said, stepping back and dropping her hand to the handle of her lightsaber.

  Without a word, he climbed up the cellar’s small ladder until he stood beside her inside the shack. He looked to be in his late forties, a thin man of average height. He had straight black hair that hung down to his shoulders, and his skin was brown and leathery from a decade of exposure to Ambria’s burning sun. There was nothing about his appearance to suggest he was a man of power or importance, yet Zannah could sense his calm inner strength.

  “Do you know who I am?” she asked him.

  “I’ve known ever since you and your Master built your camp on this world,” he said quietly.

  “And you know why I’m here?”

  “I sensed you coming. That was why I hid.”

  She peeked down into the cellar, noting that it contained a number of small shelves lined with bottles, bags, jars, and pouches that held the medicines and healing compounds he used in his vocation. There were also a number of ration kits piled in one corner, along with a handful of small, square supply containers.

  “When did you build that?” she asked, curious.

  “Shortly after my previous encounter with your Master,” he answered. “I feared he would one day come back, and I wanted a place for my daughter to hide.”

  The man suddenly smiled at her, though there was no joy or mirth in the expression.

  “But now my daughter has grown,” he told her. “She has left this world, never to return. And you have no power over me.”

  “Are you saying you will no
t help my Master?” Zannah asked, not even bothering to put a threat into her voice.

  “There is nothing you can do to compel me this time,” he replied, and she sensed a deep satisfaction in his tone. She realized he had been preparing for this day for over ten years.

  “The war between the Jedi and Sith is over,” Zannah told him. “My Master is no longer a soldier. He is just an ordinary man who needs your help.”

  The man smiled again, flashing his teeth in a feral grin. “Your Master will never be ordinary. Though soon enough he will be dead.”

  One glance down at the man’s hand, permanently scarred by the burns he had given himself plunging it into the boiling soup, made Zannah dismiss any ideas of using torture to change his mind. And she knew that any attempt to dominate his mind with the Force would fail; his will was too strong for her to bend it to her needs.

  “I can give you credits. You’ll be richer than you can possibly imagine.”

  He waved his hands around at the austere little shack. “What use are credits to a man like me?”

  “What about your daughter?” Zannah countered. “Think of how much easier her life could be.”

  “Even if I wanted to let my child take your blood payment, I could never find a way to get it to her. For her own protection, I insisted she change her name when she left this world. I do not know what she is called now; I do not know where she has gone.”

  Zannah chewed her lip, then tried something desperate.

  “If you do not help my Master I will hunt your daughter down. I will find her, torture her, and kill her,” she vowed, carefully hitting each word for emphasis. “But first I will make her watch as I torture and kill every other person she cares about.”

  Caleb smirked, amused at her empty threat. “Go, then. Seek her out and leave me alone. We both know you will never find her.”

  Again, he had her. With no name and not even a physical description, it would be impossible to track down one woman who could be on any of a million Republic worlds.

  Scowling, Zannah glanced once more down at his scarred hand. It stood as mute testament to the fact she couldn’t break him through raw physical pain, no matter how brutal. But with no other options left, she decided to try anyway.

  She reached out with the Force and picked Caleb up. His feet dangled only a few centimeters off the floor, yet his head brushed against the shack’s low, slanted roof. She began to squeeze, applying pressure directly to his internal organs, slowly crushing them as she inflicted an agonizing pain few beings had ever experienced. She was careful to leave his lungs alone, however—allowing him enough air to breath and speak.

  “You know how to make this end,” she said coldly. “Say you will heal my Master.”

  He grunted and gasped in pain, but shook his head.

  “Zannah! What are you doing?”

  Darovit had come into the shack, curious as to what was taking her so long. Now he stood in the doorway, staring in horror at the scene.

  “Stop it!” he shouted at her. “You’re killing him! Put him down!”

  With a sharp growl of frustration she released her grip, letting Caleb fall to the floor. Darovit rushed to his side to see if he was okay, but the older man shook his head and waved him away. He rose to his hands and knees, then settled back onto his heels, his hands resting on his thighs as he took slow, deep breaths.

  Darovit turned on her. “What did you do that for?” he demanded angrily.

  “He refused to help us,” she said, her voice more defensive than she meant it to be.

  “I will not release that monster on the galaxy a second time,” Caleb declared, his teeth still clenched against the lingering effects of Zannah’s torture. “There is nothing you can do to make me save him.”

  Zannah dropped to one knee beside him. “I can use my powers to conjure up your worst nightmares and bring them to life before your eyes,” she whispered. “I can drive you mad with fear, shred your sanity, and leave you a raving lunatic for the rest of your life.”

  Darovit just stared at her, shocked by her words. Caleb only smiled his infuriating smile.

  “If you do,” the healer calmly replied, “your Master will still die.”

  Zannah chewed her lip, glaring at him. Then she leapt to her feet and stormed out of the cabin, leaving Darovit and Caleb alone.

  23

  Fuming, Zannah stomped her way across the sand between Caleb’s shack and the edge of the camp, where her Master lay on the hover gurney.

  She checked the monitor attached to the gurney’s side, getting a reading of his vitals. He was still alive, but fading fast. Soon he would be gone, taking all his knowledge and secrets with him.

  She was standing over the gurney when Darovit emerged from the shack several minutes later. He crossed the camp to stand beside her, gazing down at Bane.

  “When he goes,” he said, offering his cousin words of condolence, “at least he’ll go peacefully.”

  “Peace is a lie!” Zannah snarled back. “It doesn’t matter if you die in your sleep or on the battlefield, dead is still dead.”

  “At least he’s not feeling any pain,” Darovit replied, tossing out another meaningless platitude.

  “If you feel pain,” she answered, “it means you’re still alive. Give me pain over peace any day.”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say that, Zannah,” Darovit said sadly, shaking his head. “Can’t you see what he’s made you become?”

  He made me become a Sith, she thought. Out loud she said, “He made me strong. He gave me power.”

  “Is that all you care about now, Zannah? Power?”

  “Through power I gain victory, and through victory my chains are broken.”

  “Power doesn’t always bring victory,” Darovit countered. “Even with all the power you have, you couldn’t make Caleb help you.”

  Bane would have found a way, she thought bitterly, but didn’t say anything.

  “I understand what happened to you,” her cousin said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You were just a kid. Scared. Alone. Bane found you and took you in. I understand your loyalty to him. I understand why you care about him.”

  Zannah shook his hand off and turned to stare at him with an expression of wide-eyed disbelief. “I’m a Sith. I don’t care about anyone but myself.”

  “You care about me.”

  Zannah didn’t reply, refusing to be drawn again into the same argument they’d had on the way to Tython.

  “You don’t want to admit it,” Darovit pressed, “but I know you care about me. And about your Master, too. Your actions prove that, no matter what you say. But Caleb’s right, you know. Bane’s a monster; we can’t let him go free.

  “But he doesn’t necessarily have to die,” he added.

  “What do you mean?” Zannah said, suddenly wary.

  “I spoke with Caleb. He thinks you’re a monster, too. But he doesn’t know you like I do. You’re not a monster, Zannah … but you’ll become one if you let anger and hate rule your life.”

  “Now you sound like the Jedi,” she said carefully. Darovit was clearly up to something, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “I’m starting to realize they’re better than the alternative,” he admitted. “I know what’s going to happen, Zannah. If Bane dies, you’ll kill Caleb.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Probably.” There was no point in lying.

  “You’re balanced on the precipice,” her cousin warned her, his voice suddenly urgent and intense. “You can still turn back from this life, Zannah. But if Bane dies, I know your desire to avenge him will drive you to murder Caleb. And I’m afraid your Master’s death will push you over the edge. It’ll turn you into him.

  “I don’t want you to turn into him,” he added more softly, nodding down at Bane’s motionless form on the gurney. “I have to save you from yourself. I had to find some way to stop you from killing Caleb. So I convinced him to heal Bane. It’s the only way to make you
turn away from the teachings of the Sith.”

  “That … that makes no sense,” Zannah said, her mind reeling as she tried to wrap her head around his logic. “If Bane lives he’ll never let me abandon my studies.” And why would I even want to? she added silently.

  “Before Caleb will help,” her cousin explained, “you have to dispatch one of the Loranda’s message drones. You have to tell the Jedi where we are so they can come and arrest Bane.”

  “What?” Zannah shouted, taking a half step away from him. “That’s crazy!”

  “No, it’s not!” he said, grabbing her by the arm with his good hand and pulling her back to face him. “Please, Zannah, just listen to me. If you send that message to the Jedi and hand Bane over to them, it will prove you’re turning your back on the ways of the Sith. It will show you want to make up for all the pain and suffering you’ve caused.

  “And it’s the only way Caleb will agree to heal him,” he added a second later, letting go of her arm.

  “You saw what Bane can do,” she said. “What’s to stop him from killing the Jedi when they get here?”

  “The orbalisk toxin is melting Bane’s body from the inside. Even with Caleb’s help it will be weeks, maybe months, before he can even get out of bed.”

  “So what’s to stop me from just taking Bane away as soon as he’s healed?”

  “Your greatest weapon is secrecy. The Jedi think your Order is extinct. They won’t waste their time chasing shadows every time someone whispers the word Sith. That’s the only reason you’ve been able to survive so far.

  “But once you send off the message drone, everything changes. They’ll know the Sith still exist. They’ll have the proof they need to drive them to action. Every Jedi Knight and Jedi Master across a million worlds will be searching for you. The Sith won’t be able to hide anymore.”

  Zannah knew he was right. It was the very reason Bane had worked so hard to keep their existence nothing more than an unfounded rumor.