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.

"Welcome, daughter," said Supreme Being. "And thou art well?" - so politely he asked.

She prostrated herself in deference to him, replying to him, "Yes Master, as I trust you are also." And as the form of the Toydarian appeared, she took her place at the gaming table. The universe played around them. A comet made it's way between them on it's lonely journey around a long-dead sun, a star went super-nova and lit the heavens around them with a glorious flux of light and gamma.

Supreme Being rolled the chance cubes, making them click-clack against each other in his hand. "And how shall we game, daughter? What shall I put you against today? A star fighter?" And the cubes were thrown onto the table.

The hologram appeared. The Infiltrator was playing 'tag' with a star fighter in an asteroid belt. The little fighter had a shape and markings which were unknown to her, and she saw it was faster than the Infiltrator and more agile.

"The bet Master?" she asked, reaching forward and bending to pick up the cubes.

The gem swung on its chain out of her tunic. The Toydarian quickly leaned forward and snatched at the jewel. "What is this?" he asked, sharply.

"A bond gift from my Lord!" she exclaimed, surprised at his question and at the tone of it. "He returned it to me when we last met."

"A very pretty thing indeed, and how was it fashioned?" The Toydarian let go of the gem and leaned back, scrutinising her with narrowed eyes.

"It was forged from a living crystal during his long journeyings for his own Master. He used the Force to make it, and it is indeed beautiful."

"Let us compare them then."

"Compare what?"

"Place the gem on the table!" Reluctantly obedient, she did so, placing it by the cubes.

"Do you not see child, they are of the same substance!"

She looked at them. The black dots which were black holes swirled and drew in light. The dark of them was the same as the crystal when it had been safeguarded within Khameir's tunic. The light of the cubes was the same as her crystal now was.

"Aid me in my understanding, Master. Why is this so important to you?" She worried about Khameir and his opponent.

Supreme being pulled a quick annoyed scowl and waved a hand at the hologram. The battle started again.

"Do you know how long it took me to make those cubes?" he shouted, leaning angrily towards her. "The hours of work! The nurturing, the growing, the persuading to grow in the directions I wanted! The effort was considerable - I was always hungry when I made those."

"But my Lord took a long time, I'm sure it isn't perfect…" she faltered.

"It is perfect, and he shouldn't have taken any time at all, not even considered it or attempted it! He could have bought something just as pretty. Well, nearly as pretty." Looking at it, finding it most beautiful, wanting it.

"Then perhaps you would like it as a gift…" Sliding it toward him, hoping against hope he would not take it.

The Toydarian reached for it. Her heart stopped and she forced herself to be generous, Khameir would understand.

"Oh, no, he wouldn't! Keep it, daughter. Wear it; it becomes you." He pushed it back to her.

She thanked him, reminded that he knew her thoughts.

"Yes. Remember I can read your mind. I do not ask either, unlike him…" Waving his hand at the hologram. "I like to know what my creatures really think. Of course he can, and occasionally does. Read yours I mean. But you always know, he has manners. His race is quite ancient in your terms, and very cultivated. Lots of ritual. Have you tried to read his?"

"No, it seems an intrusion somehow." She placed it around her neck and tucked the gem inside her tunic.

"Yes, you rely on empathy, don't you. That is a strong talent in itself. His mind though, it is quite dark, very dark in fact. Full of secret wisdom and such which will well repay digging if you want, all good stuff. All mine of course!" Supreme being nodded wisely. "But he treats his enemies quite ruthlessly, you know. No qualms about minds or anything then. Daughter, wear your jewel proudly, display it, it takes a power to wear it as it takes one to make it."

She did.

"Now go. His Master has instructed him to harvest another beast. Watch him, as you promised, be vigilant. Go to him now, we will not bet today." Foregoing the bet, he waved his hand at the hologram and a fusillade of laser fire from the Infiltrator destroyed the star fighter as Khameir's anger rose, gave him a surge of strength and power to turn the Infiltrator more tightly than he had ever turned it before.

The planet where the serpent made its home was a swamp, a fertile and fecund place of creatures hunting and eating, of life and death, and much death there was on this green planet of long-stemmed fleshy plants and carnivorous beasts. There were deep volcanic pools of clear green water, from which steam gently wafted into the warm air, and where fine white sand reflected back the sun. Some pools were in deep wells of rock, with steep sheer sides devoid of vegetation. Others were shallow, and the waters gently glittered with the reflection of the sun.

There was little intelligence, no sentient beings unravelled the threads of the Force, travelled the stars, or remoulded the planet in their own image. The surface was walked by hunters, gathering each other for sustenance, feasting on their bloody flesh, gnawing their bones.

The beast pawed the muddy ground and swung its long horned head to and fro, sniffing and grunting, nostrils flaring and hunting for the scent of its attacker, small eyes searching for its enemy. The sensitive short tentacles around the mouth swung and dribbled a green slime as it chewed the vegetation it had torn from the swamp bed.

Khameir twisted the leather strips in his hands until he had a loop, then he sauntered out into the clearing. Dressed only in a tight leather breech-clout to protect his soft parts, he nonetheless had his light sabre clipped to a leather belt tight around his waist and small but deadly knives strapped to his arm. He wanted this beast to use as bait for the serpent, to attract its attention, to keep it occupied while he killed it, then butchered it for the genetic material needed by his Master for the cloning on Nurius III.

He faced the animal and hissed at it, drew its attention, watched the little mean eyes look at him and malice slowly form in the small brain. Crouching, ready to spring or run as circumstance dictated, he stalked, manoeuvred, and suddenly jumped to the neck of the beast using the knives as anchors in the thick hide.

Now the beast could not see him, the beast thought he was not there, forgot his existence, until bending to eat; its sensitive tentacles were caught in a tight loop of leather, twisted.

The pain was immense. The beast bellowed in agony, tossed its head once, until the pain persuaded it not to do so. It panted in confusion and distress, blew great gusts of fetid air in terror, waited for its own death as the loop was tied to a tree…

The bait staked as temptation and an easy meal for the serpent, Maul went back to his ship - to wash the stench and slime of the swamp from his body, and refresh his mind for tomorrow's tasks.

He took a generous shower, ate a little, drank clear water, performed the small chores of the day, checked the ship…

Returning to the controls to lock the ship down for the night, he found Hanshara. She was standing at the front screen, watching the nocturnal hunters slink through the shadows, stalking prey in the gentle light from the deck. He gestured at the controls to turn it down so she could see more, and as his eyes became accustomed to the greater dark, he saw a white glow reflected in the transparisteel screen. Puzzled, he kissed the back of her neck and turned her in his arms. The brilliant jewel burned coldly on her tunic, at her throat.

Khameir touched it gently. "So, you wear it proudly, for all to see? Have you forgotten the evil that is done in pursuit of such?"

"My Master admired it, he instructed me to wear it, display it. And it is so lovely, so beautiful." She touched it.

"And would you give it to him if he desired it?" growled Khameir, holding her at arms length, looking at her through narrowed eyes.

"He refused it…" she said, face scarlet with embarrassment, worried that she had offered it, so grateful that her master had refused, looking down, away from him.

"That was most wise of him!" said Khameir coldly. "For I will challenge any, man or god, whatever, who tries to take this from you."

Then he laughed and pulled her back to him. "I find no fault in you, Tai Shan, never that. We both know that there are times when things must be done that we prefer not, and there is no alternative. But it was wise of your master to refuse, all the same."

Then she felt her mind soothed, calmed, the worry she felt to be needless.

He kissed her. "It pleases me greatly that you wear it so, for it becomes you. For how long will you stay with me?" he asked, stroking her hair, kissing her cheek, her neck, insinuating his hand in her tunic, searching for her warm soft flesh.

"Until you have brought in your harvest." She answered, finding his mouth and kissing him with increasing passion.

"That is good. You will watch for me." And he picked her up, and carried her to his bed.

The beast moaned and thrashed its distress, unable to move away from its tether as the serpent approached, curious as to the source of the noise. Years ago it had made its way from the great sea beyond the river which poured out of the swamp, curious and eager to explore what lay beyond its watery home in the depths. Now it lived alone in solitary and splendid isolation away from its own kind, eating as it pleased, taking meat as it wanted from the abundance which surrounded it.

During its sojourn in this carnivore's paradise, it had grown well, become fattened and plump, energetically disputing its meat with many other hunters and besting them all. A prime specimen, thought Khameir, a tribute to its kind, as the serpent circled around the tethered beast, tormenting it, bringing its great head to its neck and sniffing heartily at the frantically straining body. It lowered its head, looked into the desperate eyes and showed its teeth to the meal it was soon to enjoy, then leisurely swung its jaw under the throat and bit. As the hinder quarters of the tethered beast thrashed in a muddy death agony, the serpent clung on, stifling the breath and severing the neck. As the beast died, shuddering in its final suffering, the serpent started to feast, tearing away great hunks of bloody flesh and gulping them down the long neck.

'Is it intelligent?' wondered Maul, crouched in the shadows of a thicket of reed-like plants. The teasing of its prey had seemed motivated by conscious spite as much as hunger. Perhaps it would evolve to become the master of this planet, in many million years. Once again he was clad only in simple leather breech-clout, and carried only his sabre and sharp knives, but now Hanshara was watching from the branch of a tree, perched on it like some Jedi bird of prey.

He was not concerned for her safety, for she was as capable with her lightsabre as he, but the serpent had a long neck, was vicious, and was moved quickly to anger. Moreover, it was agile despite its size, the tail was long, used as a weapon, the fangs were sharp and pointed…

The serpent fed, slavering blood from its maw as it squatted possessively, rending the carcass. Small carrion eaters crept tentatively to the edge of the feast, snatched gobbets of flesh, and carried them away to eat in safety, until driven by greed, they came again. As the serpent sated its hunger, it became more bountiful, allowed the carrion eaters to sit at the bones at leisure, until it was replete with the gift that had been bestowed upon it. Then it lay by the remains of the carcass, guarding the greater portion until it would eat again, and half-closed its eyes, digesting the engorged meat.

Waiting until the creature was still, only chewing regurgitated meat like some grazing herbivore, Khameir moved silently towards its long neck, towards one of the few vulnerable points in the animals hide - the artery running down the long neck, and just under the thin skin of the forearms. The work would require the use of a knife, a lightsabre would cauterise the wound. He thought to bleed it to death, so he carried a long knife in one hand, and his sabre in the other should he need it.

The serpent swallowed and regurgitated another large piece of flesh, emitting a foul stench of decomposition as it did so, then noisily chewed and slavered some more, enjoying its grisly repast. As the great silver eyes half closed in pleasure, Hanshara watched Khameir slowly and silently move through the reeds towards his target. Not making a sound, not betraying his presence in any way, he edged towards the beast. She held her breath while he inched to the place on the skin he thought to pierce, readied the long sharp knife, and leapt to engage the animal.

The serpent saw the movement from the corner of its eye, saw the threat and roused itself from the torpor it had enjoyed. It swung its great head low, to face the warrior about to make the cut.

Dodging the head and the long tongue flickering angrily towards him, Khameir Force-jumped over the creature's neck, only to fall onto the lashing tail, which swept him easily to one side. He was thrown against the trunk of a large tree, hit his head, and lay in a crumpled heap...

Hanshara watched in horror as the serpent turned and grunted a challenge to the fallen Zabrak, bowed its head, and opened the huge jaws to scoop his body, crush, and swallow; its great pointed fangs dripping saliva and a subtle poison. Khameir did not move; he was stunned by the blow from the creature's tail, oblivious to the danger looming towards him.

Hand reaching for her lightsabre as she jumped and raced to face the serpent and distract it from its purpose, she found she did not fear for Khameir's life, rather she was angry at the effrontery of this creature in attempting to harm her lover.

The serpent heard the movement as she crashed through the undergrowth, and quickly turned to assess this new threat. It saw a diminutive human slash at its webbed feet, then felt a wild burning pain which caused a great rage and fury to arise in its mind. Now it screamed, raised the burned extremity and stamped it down again into the cooling mud and vegetation of the swamp. The foot landed near Khameir as he raised his head in shaky confusion. This was too near for comfort, so she danced away, taunting the animal to pull it away from him. It lumbered after her, now hissing and screaming alternately, but catching a last glancing blow at Khameir, pressing his body into spongy and swampy ground, into the mud, sending him back into oblivion.

Seeing this injury, now a greater fury arose within her. Having drawn the beast away from him, she turned and faced it, balancing lightly on the balls of her feet and wielding her sabre with both hands to give her the extra power she needed. As her anger grew, she felt her mind grow sharper and her arms grow stronger. Caution left her and she danced in front of the beast, now within the compass of the stamping feet, and now without, stabbing the delicate webs and claws as she did so, enraging it with pain. The serpent swept its great head back and forth, the great eyes like lamps watching for every flicker of movement, becoming more enraged with every cut.

As Hanshara danced her warriors dance, the serpent became mesmerised by the movement, and the light of the sabre. As she gave way to the anger and used it, she became more exhilarated, and filled with the joy of battle and the power she was using. Her mind fled to a higher plane, she found her body and mind were as one, unified in a common purpose as she followed her instincts and feelings. The strokes of her sabre were pin-point accurate, every cut, every thrust, a hymn to her training and dedication.

The serpent swept back and forth, as she lured the head lower and yet lower, until with a great battle-cry, she hurled the weapon, as if it were a javelin, into the eye of the creature. As the serpent reared onto its hinder legs, drops of water and a sticky clear fluid showered upon her, and she stopped, watched the animal scream and die, as the lightsabre burned into the brain.

Gulping in great lungfuls of air to regain her breath, she waited, and when the giant head was laid in the swamp and the life-light dulled from the remaining eye, called her sabre to her hand again. It replied, came willingly, and almost, she thought, with a greater zest, as though it had enjoyed the task it had just completed.

When the exhilaration of battle had left her, she looked for Khameir, found him dazed and bruised in a muddy spongy place of reed-like plants, which had made a cushion for his body as the creature had caught him the glancing blow.

She sat by him until he was sensible again, cleaning the hilt of her sabre as she did so. There was blood and ichor smeared on the metal, and a streak of green poison. She cleaned these away using the tops of the flowering reeds, which had a soft cottony head, wiped the metal carefully with the dampened absorbent fibres, and reminded herself to check the electronics as soon as they returned to the ship.

Khameir sat up, touched her arm as the confusion slowly left him.

"You had best prepare your knives," she said shortly, realisation as to what she had done slowly dawning.

"You are not harmed?" he questioned, wondering as to her bitter tone and aura of self-reproach.

"No. And if I was, would that matter?" He waited, saying nothing, then stood shakily, looked for his sabre and called it to him, watching her carefully.

Hanshara made a show of inspecting her sabre again, looking for non-existent dirt and flaws, distracting herself from thinking about what she had experienced, then standing, she started to walk back to the ship, not wanting to see the crude butchery he was preparing to perform.

But suddenly, overcome by remorse and distress, she stood with her back to him, shaking, clenching and unclenching her fists, weeping hot salty tears in silent shame and humiliation. No master or mistress here to help her now, to guide her back to the path of the light.

At first he waited, hoping she would become calm, but as she did not, he padded up behind her and started to stroke and massage her neck and shoulders. She stopped the shaking, but her fists were still clenching.

To remedy this he put his body close to hers, took his hands from her shoulders and down her arms, and when the tension eased there also, took her hands, folded them in front of her and held her tightly, and kissed her neck. He dipped into her mind, felt her shame, and wondered at the way she felt.

She now stood with her head bowed, ashamed at what she had done and experienced, but calmer.

"Listen to me," Khameir whispered into her ear. "You are a true warrior, but is it more natural to kill in a calm and composed state of mind, unemotional, undisturbed by the act you are about to commit? Or in anger, with reason, with passion?"

"Was your sword arm not lighter, your weapon more easily borne, the strokes of your blade more accurate? Did not your body sing as you plied your trade and made your warrior's dance?"

"Anger is natural. It is a gift from the gods which charges your mind and body for the task you are about to undertake. It gives you strength, it gives you power. It stops you feeling pain in the heat of conflict. It quickens your reflexes. Anger does all these things and many more. Learn to turn it to your purpose. It gave you strength and power when you needed it. When I needed it."

"But I enjoyed it, the power it gave me…" Her voice trailed off and she put her head in her hands again.

He chuckled. "Such is the power of anger, indeed, any emotion!" he observed wryly. "Perhaps it is not the Jedi way, yet it has its purpose. Did you know you would enjoy it? Did you seek to enjoy it?"

"Oh! No…" startled, worried, appalled and horrified at the thought of it.

"Then where is the blame in you?"

He turned her round, still holding her shoulders, and bent to kiss her - she hesitated, pulled away, doubting the logic of his reasoning. There was sudden conflict in her mind; the anger had fuelled her aggression, and she had enjoyed the power it gave her. Had her teachings fallen by the wayside for her to discard them so easily? Was this what it was like for him when he killed? For he showed no mercy, no compassion in his killing frenzy, none to the Guardian, the Avashtar.

She felt his body stiffen and tense, as his hands fell away until they just touched her shoulders, then to his sides. His eyes were unfocussed when she looked up at him, staring through her, at nothing. Khameir was motionless, barely breathing.

"I am what I am, my Lady, and have always been so." said her lover distantly. "Why then, am I suddenly distasteful to you?" From his mind she felt a sudden anguish, she reached to his soul and found an emptiness, as the memory of her death and possibility of her non-existence for him touched him fleetingly. Then there was cold, and bleakness, and a bottomless pit of despair.

Her heart wrenched as the horror of this emptiness struck her, and her own mind spun into this well of bitterness, where the silence echoed round the walls.

Hanshara struggled to contain her tears and rested her forehead against his chest. His hands slid gently around her waist as she said. "No, never! I but judge my own failings."

"Perhaps you judge me also, when you judge yourself. Perhaps this is a Jedi thing, that you must coldly judge and damn, rather than accept things for what they are, the gift they can be."

Looking up at him, she touched his cheek with her hand. "You are my greatest gift and I do not judge that, or you, but I seek understanding of my own nature. My teachings have ingrained in me that even such a small anger is a step towards the dark, and my mind suffers a turmoil…"

"A step towards me perhaps. What I have for you..." She knew he would not and could not say he loved her, for Sith say love is alien to them. "...is that not a step towards the light? Not what my Master would envision for me." He pulled her closer, rested his head against hers and gently pushed his hand into her hair. She felt his heart beat wildly against her, vibrant, alive, and dark, so dark.

"Are you less of a Sith then, because of what we have between us?" asked Hanshara.

"Perhaps, and perhaps not. But I am more of a man for it. Are you not more of a woman?"

Indeed this was so. In his bed, in his arms, she was totally fulfilled, he was all she ever wanted. Without him there would be no life, there would be nothing - she would be a mindless robot stumbling through eternity. This reminded her of her Master, the game they played, and a thought not to be borne, that she might lose this game. She shuddered as a chill swept over her. Her lover felt it, and held her tighter.

"What does your Master want for you and of you?" he whispered. "Are you a Jedi at all? Ask yourself, have you ever truly been a Jedi? Your body speaks to mine with a passion that is most un-Jedi-like, for you Jedi are cold emotionless creatures who strive to make the galaxy into their own image. You would make the galaxy a place of peace, calm, a stagnant pool where men exist in a mindless puddle of comfort striving for nothing. Ask yourself, did you enjoy the battle, or the kill?"

"The battle!" 'Surely,' she wondered, 'no sentient creature took pleasure in the taking of another life'. Such was a depravity beyond her comprehension, and she had taken no pleasure in killing the serpent, she had done only what was necessary. She felt his mind touch hers.

"What was necessary…" he whispered. "What was necessary, and as efficiently as possible. As do I, as do I. Now where is the difference between us?"

This reasoning satisfied her and as she saw the sense in it, her mood lightened, but she sighed and shook her head as she tried to wipe the tears away. She was suddenly tired, felt soiled and dirty with the heat and sweat of battle.

"Come," said Maul. "We are both alive, although I ache from the bruises. There is a warm pool…" And tilted her face up to his, wiped the tears quickly from her face with his thumbs, and started to undo her tunic. He put her lightsabre on the edge of the rocky ledge, stripped off their torn and muddied clothes, and held her hands behind her.

"And just us…" he murmured as he leaned forward and kissed her, and still holding her, suddenly pushed them both off the ledge to fall into the warm waters far below, falling together into the blue deeps sparkling with sunlight.

Their bodies arc as they dive together, entering the warm blue waters still kissing, making a small splash as clouds of steam drift into the cooler air above the surface. The bottom of the pool is formed of fine white sand, which stirs at their approach, little flurries of silver specks dancing in the disturbed water.

The minerals in the water are leached out of the volcanic rock from which the pool is formed. The waters are a little bitter, the salts keep the pool clean - nothing lives here. The woman pulls a little face as she tastes the bitterness for the first time, and her lover pulls her to the surface after him, kisses her, opens her mouth with his tongue and makes it sweet again.

She pushes him down, laughs at him, splashes him as he weaves past her before he dives and pulls her legs round his waist. She twists away, fleeing in mock alarm to the other side of the pool where he catches her. Now she is pushed back to the rock, and he holds her there with his powerful red and black striped body, holding the ledge with his slender clawed hands and pushing at the silver sand with his toes.

Wrapping her legs around his waist again she submits momentarily and reaches for his mouth, makes him relax his hold, gains space to twist and flee from his grasp again. But he catches her, pushes her back against the rock and holds her hips to his, pushing his body onto hers.

"Enough. Be still," he tells her quietly. "Let me take you now." And he pushes his knee between her thighs, parting her legs for him. She folds her legs around him again and surrenders as he kisses her well enough to take her breath away.

And she is lost. Her lover fills her heart and mind as he does her body. His long slow strokes beat an ancient rhythm inside her, inciting such sweetness that her mind floats and her heart soars with the joy of it. Her hands clutch at his back as he covers her in the water, pulling at the rock, pushing at the fine white sand. Her arms strain at his shoulders and she claws at his arms as desire mounts upon desire, until her mind spins and she wonders whether she will lose all reason.

She whispers his name, he is silent. Her head arches back against the rocky ledge. His head is against hers and his eyes are closed, his face is pressed to her neck as he mouths the skin to the same rhythm as his movement. Which he does until he shudders and moans with her in ecstasy.

The serpent harvested and the tissue stored for Sidious' scheming ends, she judged this task had ended and that she must return to her Master. Khameir does not want her to go, but he does not ask her to stay, and he does not tell her he loves her. Neither does she tell him. But he knows, as does she.

He had sometimes wondered what it would be like for them if they fled the tyranny of their respective masters. How would they live? What would their fate be? Would some sort of peace be theirs? He suspected not.

Besides, he was a Sith Lord, Heart of Darkness, he was promised as was she, he had promised to his Master, there was no turning back now. He wanted immortality with her and he would have it.

Resolutely, ruthlessly, he turned his mind to his Master and set course for Nurius III.
 

© Dark Lady - 4 February  2001