The story of the enduring love between the Sith warrior, Khameir Sarin, and the Jedi Knight, Hanshara Sinn-Tau continues.  This love transcends all boundaries, the rivers of time and space, even the abyss of death.

"The full report is here Master." Lord Maul handed Sidious the datacard. "There is more Da'Urium than we believed. Much more."

Sidious smiled avariciously, pleased beyond his expectations, touching and caressing the datacard fondly, like a favourite woman.

Maul continued. "We will need to stock-pile it to control the demand, or prices will fall and every pirate and smuggler will be able to cloak their ship. However, assuming reasonable market conditions, there should be more than enough to cover the cost of the cloning."

"Extraordinary, your contacts at Malastare can manage the sales. You have done well my Apprentice. Very well indeed."

Maul enjoyed the praise. Then Sidious turned to look out of the window adding, unexpectedly, "and what of yourself Lord Maul? You seem somewhat more… centred is perhaps the word."

Maul had no answer, remaining silent, offering no explanation for this change in him.

His master turned and looked hard at Maul, inquiring into his mind for a clue, using a delicate mind probe, searching, questioning. But, Maul hid his thoughts, and he hid them well, so Sidious found nothing.

Then Sidious turned to the subject of the next mission, and told him of a herb he wished collected from a small austere planet in the system named Cedon IV. This herb was grown in the mountainous regions of the southern continent. It was a powerful carcinogen with the ability to increase the growth of neurons in the brain tissue of the young. It also contained a narcotic, which for a short while, released the mind to the next plane of existence. Until such time as this chemical could be synthesised, the herb was needed to act on the brains of the clones while still in the cloning vats.

So Sidious instructed Maul to depart immediately for Cedon IV, to enquire upon the herb, and begin retrieving supplies of it, sufficient enough for the early phases of the cloning. He casually mentioned there was a guardian, thought to be of a ceremonial nature. It was named after the tribe to which it belonged, Avashtar.

"And just before he left Sidious' presence for Cedon IV - "And Apprentice, do you know of any reason why your mind might be cloaked while at Iolenthe?"

Maul's expression was impassive. "The large concentration of Da'Urium crystals, perhaps had an effect, Master?" he suggested.

"No," said Sidious, "I think not." He looked at him again with his penetrating stare, waiting for a further explanation. Maul would not lie, lies were easily discovered, so he said nothing. "No matter," said Lord Sidious after a short silence, "perhaps it was another anomaly."

And he dismissed him to his duties, and reflected upon the matter.

The guardian was not ceremonial.

The Avashtar was a massive lizard-like being, with dark blue skin patterned with a darker blue and flecks of iridescent green. Its eight limbs were multi-jointed, two of them carried metal sabres of great sharpness, a third carried a lance of some sort. The eyes were large silver orbs with slit pupils, shrewd, measuring, intelligent.

The being stared at Maul intently, and scuttled in the middle of the field of plants, which were cultivated in straight rows of thorny bushes. It hissed, and then spoke, making complex clicking sounds. It then scuttled and strutted some more, finally coming to stand watchfully between Maul and the field, it's sabres lowered, lance at rest.

Maul prowled along the edge of the field, considering his potential opponent. He raised his head and opened his mouth a little, scented the air. There was no fear that he could detect in him, but he had not met this species before so that was a meaningless exercise. There was awareness - the being was sentient - and even a depth of wisdom and knowledge. It also possessed great courage, and ferocity. No mercy would be shown by this creature once battle commenced. The Avashtar was also fast in movement, and the reflexes extremely quick. If it came to battle, this would not be easy. Not easy at all.

Ever one to negotiate first, if he could, Maul spoke to the guardian, using mime to indicate his purpose, standing with hands clasped behind him when he had finished. However, like the warrior he was, he balanced lightly on the balls of his feet to strike if he must.

The guardian hissed loudly, and clashed his two sabres together in a gesture of defiance. It then made a mime as if to push Maul away, to go, to leave the field of precious herb. Then it retreated to stand among the growing plants, watchful, vigilant.

Maul unclipped his sabre, ignited one end and strutted up and down his end of the field to demonstrate his readiness and ability to fight. The being remained motionless, watching still, while Maul stopped and switched off his sabre. He stooped to gather a handful of the herb which he then placed inside his tunic. He stood back up, folded his arms and watched.

The Avashtar raised its own sabres in its jointed limbs and lowered the lance. It walked carefully towards Maul and seemed to crouch, as if getting ready to pounce.

Maul unclipped his own sabre again, ignited both ends of it and took his battle stance. He screamed his challenge to the lizard, who leapt forward without warning. It's metal sabres whirled, controlled by multi-jointed limbs and the weapons glinted and flashed in the late afternoon sun. Maul jumped, but the lizard was quicker, catching a glancing blow to his side with the lance. The deep cut bled profusely.

The region in which this sacred plant grew had soil much like scree, a loose moraine of pebbles resting upon looser rocks and small boulders. The rounded stones, of many different sizes, waited to turn underfoot, catching even the most wary and cautious off guard. Even those wearing soft boots, hoping to keep a purchase upon the treacherous ground.

As he twisted and turned, evading the flashing metal sabres, made of some strange substance which his lightsabre would not sunder or cleave, just such a stone turned under his heel. He stumbled and fell, cutting his head as he rolled to take the force of the fall. Momentarily stunned, the lightsabre fell from his grip.

As the Avashtar prepared to leap forward, to make (it thought) the final blow, Maul somersaulted to his feet and using the Force, called his sabre to him. He strangely experienced a sudden hint of death, a foreboding sense of enveloping dark. He conquered it, put it behind him, and continued the battle to win the sacred plant for his Master.

He used the Force to try and distract the Avashtar, casting a shower of small stones into the large silver eyes. But, the creature used a third eyelid to cleanse away the dirt. He then caused the hilts of its sabres to heat and burn the hands that wielded them, but the creature ignored the pain it must have felt. The last Force induced thing Maul tried was the creation of confusion in the mind of the Avashtar, causing the light to bend and shimmer in front of it, but the lizard would not be diverted from it's purpose.

The warriors duelled on, both taking cuts and burns, slashes to the body and limbs in a din of clashing metal and the hum and whine of the lightsabre. The Avashtar was more powerful than Maul, much bigger and stronger and the battle took its toll on the warrior. He was still on his feet, but tiring quickly. Sweat poured down his face, his tunic was bloodied and cut to ribbons, revealing many deep cuts to his body.

Then unexpectedly, the Avashtar fell, a mis-grown thorny bush catching upon its claws and feet. Seeing an opportunity, Maul found a last reserve of strength and hurled a bolt of Force energy to his opponent's head. Blue fire streaked along the strange body as it writhed in torment. Maul collapsed, exhausted, watching as the Avashtar died.

Supreme being is a gambler and throws dice on the fate of the inhabitants of the universe. This is just another game. All it wants is to keep the game going.

Hanshara prostrated herself before her Master, the supreme being in its form of awesome light and colour, shielding her eyes from its majesty and power "Greetings daughter," whispered a voice, soughing gently through her soul. "How goes it with your mate?"

"It goes well Master."

"Does he realise what was once lost to him?"

"Yes."

"And he suffered because of it?"

"Yes."

"Good, that is as it should be, or it has no value to him." It sighs. "Alas, I have no mate, no one, nothing with whom to chance a true game. Except you when you can daughter. Thou art good to me."

Supreme being was rolling the cubes made of crystal in an insubstantial hand. They were studded with deep black dots. The crystals were universes, the dots black holes of immense power and creativity. As it rolled the cubes more, they became galaxies. It passed its hand over them, they became star systems.

"Now, let us raise the stakes. Will you gamble his heart then?"

"No, never that." He had given her his heart to keep, this part of him she would never lose, by chance or any other means.

"His soul?"

"Nor that either." His soul was her equal and her opposite. She drank of it, swam in the darkness of it. She made his soul sing and if this was lost, she was also lost.

"Come now. It is no game if thou art not prepared to gamble something dear, something precious to you," it chided gently.

"His life then," she said, knowing that if she lost and he died, he would at least die loving her.

"That would be a great loss to you indeed. It is much to risk. I look forward to collecting my winnings."

The shifting form of light and colour, sometimes dark with red and black shot with gold lightening, sometimes of pure white shot with glittering silver, coalesced into the small Toydarian, seated on its chance cube.

Hanshara laughed and seated herself before him. "A Toydarian. An appropriate allusion for this game of yours."

The Toydarian laughed with her. "I like you daughter, thou hast a sense of the rightness of things. Perhaps I created them for me, perhaps I identify with them."

"Perhaps," she said, heart racing.

The small gaming table appeared before them. Galaxies and nebulae made their stately dance around them, streamers of flaming gases, the detritus of dying suns, drifted between them.

Khameir drew his lightsabre and such was his opponent, he wondered that this may be the end for him.

She watched this vision, forced her hands still and quieted her breathing. Her heart thudded.

Khameir turned gracefully, took his battle stance, and focused himself. He screamed a challenge to the Avashtar who attacked without warning or challenge.

"Firstly for a stone," said the supreme being.

Face impassive, revealing nothing, she rolled the cubes. Her heart pounded. The Toydarian had an evil smile and studied its nails, or claws. "Of course, being supreme, perhaps I know what will happen next, I could even arrange it." Her heart missed a beat. It suddenly looked anxious for a moment then quickly reached out to grasp her wrist with its claws. "This is only for a stone daughter. Not his life yet."

Bowing her head in acknowledgement, she struggled with her fear for his life, conquered it, swallowed, picked up the cubes and threw again.

The stone turned under his heel and Khameir stumbled and fell, cutting his head as he rolled to take the force of the fall. The Avashtar prepared to leap forward…

The Toydarian made a graceful gesture of power which was not for Hanshara to see, and she did not.

Khameir somersaulted to his feet and regained his sabre. He felt a hint of death, put it behind him.

"Fear is good," said the Toydarian, looking at a passing galaxy. "Of course, everything that I have made is good, even the basics. Light, dark, whatever, all that. Take fear though. The young have none, they do not know the value of what they risk, what they can lose. He knows." A pause, and a hologram of the battle now taking place appeared on the gaming table. She did not look at it. "As do you. But to truly know it and conquer it, you must face it."

It pointed. She gathered herself and looked again. She put her fear for his death behind her.

Khameir was still on his feet, but he was tiring now, and very quickly. Sweat was pouring down his face, his tunic was bloodied and cut to ribbons, revealing deep cuts into his body.

They watched together in silence for a time. "Why do you not aid him?" asked supreme being.

"I want to, but that would influence the game, and then it would be no game."

"Such purity, such honour!" said supreme being scornfully, and accompanied by another discreet gesture of power.

Now the Avashtar fell. Seeing his opportunity Khameir found a last reserve of strength and hurled a bolt of energy to his opponents head. Blue fire from Khameir's hand streaked along the grotesque body as it writhed in torment. Khameir collapsed exhausted as the Avashtar died

Hanshara breathed again. She clasped her hands to stop them trembling and the Toydarian regarded her silently for a short while.

"Go. Make your obeisance now and go. Enjoy your mate for a while. We will game again shortly."

When she had gone, supreme being thoughtfully rolled the cubes. He idly stirred the interior of a star belonging to a small system on the rim. It turned super-nova and millions died.

"At least your mate will have a good day." It sighed.

The loops were tested, as was the main branch of the program, but still the program would not quite hang together. Maul glared at the screen in frustration, leaning over the monitor, looking for the missing variable. He let the anger within himself grow, banged the console, and snarled at it.

"Here, try this!" said a familiar voice as a hand appeared over his shoulder and tapped on the keyboard.

Not taking his eyes off the screen, he quickly caught the hand and pulled its owner onto his lap, swivelling the pilot's chair as he did so. "That is it indeed, my Lady." Remembering to save the program before he moved, his anger disappearing.

"So your mission goes well?" he remarked, showering her face with kisses and burying his hands in her tunic.

"It goes on." She laughed, enjoying his attention, his touch, his presence, eagerly returning the kisses.

"It would be good if this mission finished."  Kissing her neck, making little growls of appreciation.

"Perhaps…"

"It is good to see you Tai Shan, now it will be a good day, a very good day indeed." As he kissed her throat, her shoulders.

"Take me to Cinthara?"

"Why? I have all I want right here, I need nothing else for now." He grinned at her. "Besides, I have other plans." He began pulling her tunic out of her belt.

"Can they not wait?"

"No. Neither will I."  Slipping his warm hands inside her clothes, caressing her skin, running his fingers along her ribs, and his thumbs fleetingly over her nipples.

"Oh well, perhaps, then…"

"Perhaps! What is this 'perhaps'? This is a new word for you, my Lady. You used to be more certain about things. There is no 'perhaps' about it, Cinthara will wait."

"I was too certain, before…" She put her arms round his neck.

"Perhaps. But you can be certain of this."

He kissed her, picked her up with one arm and whirled her around the cockpit, pulling more at her tunic and the ties to her clothes. "We will fly together, there is something strange and beautiful to see on the fifth planet of this otherwise rather barren…"

Her belt fell away…

"…system out in the middle of…." The tunic fell to the floor.

"...nowhere!"

He stopped, sat her on the console, frowned and tugged exasperatedly at her boots.

"Why all these lacings?" He used the Force and they came off.

He pulled at the under tunic, then her breeches. She pretended to resist and let him win.

"Come with me, fly with me," he cajoled, he persuaded, pleaded. He kissed her more as they both pulled at his garments, leaving them in an untidy heap on the floor.

"What I will show you will delight you, enchant you…" he whispered.

He carried her to his bed and placed her on it. Sitting by her, he took her head in his slender hands and kissed her mouth, taking his time, studying her face intently, enjoying every bit of sensation that he found in stroking her lips, investigating her mouth, caressing her face and cheeks.

As he put his head at the side of hers, she bent her head to his neck and kissed his throat, along his shoulder, then down his chest, biting and nipping until he growled with enjoyment at the pain and the pleasure from it

He pushed her down to the side of him, stretching her alongside him, pulling her hips tight to his. He slowly parted her legs and placed himself between her thighs and touched her mind to show her how much he loved her, to arouse her more with his need for her.

Her breath became ragged with enjoyment as he gently started moving. Putting his hand on her breast he caressed the tender flesh and played with the nipple, all the time moving and kissing her mouth, her face, her throat, with hot touches.

When he could not hold back much longer, he swept her beneath him and thrust his body into hers, making long slow and deep thrusts until he felt the first quivering of her orgasm. He stopped, and kissed, teasing her. She whimpered at being so close and then being denied.

Kissing her passionately, he started again, building them both to a new peak, then stopping again. The third time he continued until he felt the rippling tide of pleasure overtake her, before it overtook him. He murmured softly to her in his own tongue as his body shuddered and he snatched her mind to take it with his.

"There is oxygen in sufficient quantity, but too much ozone and nitrous oxide for comfort. Will you not need a breather mask?"

"No," said Hanshara, smiling enigmatically.

Perhaps (that word again!) the air could just about be breathable then, he thought to himself and refused to be overly concerned by it. But he would wear his own, even so!

Maul secured the Infiltrator and sat astride the speeder. "There is only one speeder, so pillion or passenger my Lady?" he enquired politely.

"I suspect both are as uncomfortable as each other," she said, throwing her leg over the saddle and sitting in front of him. She pulled on her gloves, put her feet on the inside of the stirrups, and folded her arms in front of her.

"Don't be shy!" he murmured, putting his arm round her waist and pulling her back against him, putting his feet outside hers, wedging them safely against the machine.

She relaxed back into his chest, vividly aware of his warm and powerful body against hers, and she felt him laugh as he started the repulsor-lift engine and set the course. She felt a faint purr.  "I shall ride pillion on the way back," she remarked primly, trying to suppress a smile. He firmly pulled her head back to rest on his shoulder so he could clearly see the way ahead, and it came into her mind that it was all the same to him. Either way, the pleasure of the journey would be just as great.

The speeder flew down the bumpy track, flying over stones and ruts with the same facility, towards the low hills in the distance. Coming to a narrow and steep pass, they stopped halfway and Khameir indicated they should now dismount, taking her hand to do so. He led her over the scrubby vegetation to a cave in the side of the hill, pulled her into the entrance of the cavern, ignited his sabre and led her further to a bend in the passage leading into the bowels of this planet.

They faced the bare rock wall, then he switched the sabre off, turned her round and held her in front of him. Without a word he reignited the sabre.

She stared in awe at the painted icon set in stone before her.

The gold figure stared back at them, looking imperiously over the votive offerings of fruit and flowers, now long withered and decayed with time.

She was female, a strange goddess from another world, another time. Her naked body was gold placed against a background of stars, her hands raised to her shoulders, perhaps in benediction, her feet placed upon a lightsabre of strange and archaic design. The artist had made the sabre seem to glow, almost as if it could be plucked from the wall to use in anger.

Her lips and slanted pupil-less eyes were black, the black hair long and bound with black ribbon into a braid falling over one shoulder and covering one breast. Her nipples were bronze and her ears elongated, pointed, the cheekbones high. The fingers were clawed; the partly open mouth had pointed fangs. The being had no navel, and there was a whip like tail held gracefully over her arm.

This was no boudoir painted female; this was a warrior, lithe and muscular, lean and fit. There was a pendant around her neck, hanging by a narrow thread or chain. The pendant was devised to be in the form of a symbol, a complex shape which the mind could not comprehend without difficulty. It seemed to shift under the gaze, to move in a subtle manner.

There was lettering of an unknown language under the picture. This was also of gold.

Khameir had recognised the sigil for what it was. A Sith rune of great power, a rune not to be spoken without purification of the body by fasting, or the purification of the mind and spirit with meditation. That the goddess wore it around her neck signified her power.

Hanshara was silent with awe and wonder at this picture, she raised her hand slowly to touch the pendant. She found her wrist held in an iron grip as Khameir quickly caught it to prevent her unknowing defilement of the sacred symbol.

"This is a thing of power" he murmured, "a thing of such power that to meditate upon it brings madness to those unprepared."

She drew her hand slowly back as he smiled at her acquiescence.

"Is it Sith then?" she whispered.

"This is the goddess Nimith, as she was before Iridonia and the fall of the Jedi knight who stole her body."

"Who was the knight?"

"His name is forgotten, expunged from the light and even the dark, lost forever. Thus, he is not remembered and dies, but Nimith lives on in the hearts and minds of those who tell her story. Perhaps she lives also."

"Why did she come here, who painted this shrine? How did you know it was here?" The questions came thick and fast as the mystery unfolded.

"The artist I do not know, but the goddess? This was before the purges - perhaps she came to meditate in this deserted place, perhaps the artist saw her, loved her and painted this shrine to her, some of these things are lost in the millennia since."

He was silent for a while then pulled her closer, put his head at the side of hers as he still looked at the goddess.

"But not all our books were destroyed in the Jedi purges." He said almost to himself, almost musingly.

She was silent. There was nothing she could say, nothing to expunge the great wrong done to him and his kind exiled so cruelly by the Jedi, so long ago. She turned and buried her head in his shoulder, pulled him fiercely to her, trying to comfort him for such a loss.

Arm around her, Khameir was silent, staring at the picture, absorbing the wonder and strangeness of it. Sometime since, he had dreamed of this goddess. He had wondered whether she had bred with the Zabrak, passed her talent with the Force to the people who had loved her and revered her, the people whom legend say she nurtured in their time of need and adversity.

Before they departed the planet, Khameir meditated alone deep within the cave, reflecting upon the nature of the goddess and her place within the pantheon of the Sith gods.

As he meditated, he dreamed. He dreamed of Nimith walking fearlessly amidst the maelstrom of the rage and anger that was the Dark Force, bending the skeins of power to her will; he dreamed of Hanshara moving in ecstasy beneath him, of her light soul and his dark one conjoined and entwined for all time as stars and galaxies came into being and died. He smelled a tiny hint of vanilla and honey, the barest scent of the h'ya flower, and the scent of Hanshara.

Before he left, he made an offering of blood and pain, kneeling in front of the image. He renewed the dedication of his lightsabre to Nimith in the same manner as when the weapon was first made and still virgin; the cut was made in his hand; the blood was poured over the sabre, and burned and consumed by the light, and the wound was closed by the searing heat.

And he placed a fresh flower from the mountainside upon the votive offerings at the feet of the image.

Maul woke, instantly alert, his master was calling. He gently disentangled himself from the woman, quickly put on breeches and boots and raced to the hologram communicator - it was not wise to keep Lord Sidious waiting.

He switched it on and waited for the image to appear. When it did, he bowed his head in deference and greeted his master.

"So, Apprentice. And you have completed your mission?"

"Yes Master, sufficient of the plant to clone many tons hydroponically. The samples are in cryogenic storage. I have also collected some genetic material and germ plasm from the Avashtar guardian. It's speed and physical responses deserve study, perhaps to be incorporated into the clones."

Sidious was impressed. "So, you killed him then?"

"It was the only way to harvest the plant Master. He was called 'Guardian' with good reason. He was a worthy opponent."

At that moment, Hanshara chose to appear. Maul did not turn round, but he was very aware of her wakened physical presence.

She stopped for a moment in the doorway, then came into the cockpit to stand just behind him. She placed her hand on his shoulder, still scarred and barely healed. Lord Sidious said nothing about this but continued his conversation with Maul.

"The Avashtar was powerful then. Are you unscathed? I see new scars…."

Hanshara ran her hand lightly over them.

"Yes Master, but they are truly healed now."

Out of the corner of his eye, Maul could see that Hanshara had not a stitch of clothing on at all. He had a little difficulty suppressing a smile; his Master did not seem to see anything untoward.

"Then I will leave you to your training Lord Maul. Take the samples to Nurius III and then I expect you in Coruscant in due course."

Maul bowed and switched off the communicator. He turned round. Hanshara was now in the shower. He joined her.

"My Master may well change his taste in women if he sees you unclothed!" he said gently. "And he is cruel, rapacious."

"He will not see me unless I wish it, clothed or otherwise." She said, raising her arms to let the water run over her.

He thought about this as he put his hands on her waist and turned her round to face him, but then she raised her face to his and was kissing him, and he thought no more about it.

For now.

So Hanshara left to rejoin her Master, and Maul turned his ship towards Nurius III, where the Avashtar tissue was safely stored in cryofreeze, ready for the genetic engineers to evaluate and program, dissemble and dissect. And thence to Coruscant as commanded by his Master, to prepare another world for theft, rapine, and devastation.

© Dark Lady - 2 December  2000