CHAPTER TWO
Taris
If Trask Moran had a credichip for every auction of a Sith artifact, he would have had exactly two credichips. It wasn’t much, to be fair, but it was still strange that it had happened twice in the span of a year.
The Tarisian warehouse was a much more secretive and secluded place than the auction house on Ord Talavos had been, and there weren’t nearly as many people present trying to get a bid in. By his count, there were only about half a dozen criminal organizations being represented at the auction, most of them being holdouts from the Malvis Cabal that had collapsed six months ago. There were a few faces he recognized from back when he worked for the Cabal, but for the most part they were all new to him—thanks in no small part to Drakmos’s massacre of the leadership.
Unlike the last auction he and the Snatchers had been present for, this artifact wasn’t at the request of a client but rather the Boss of the Snatchers herself. Trask didn’t know much about this Sith artifact, but he figured it must have been worth quite a bit to get the Boss to emerge from the shadows. Not enough to get her to attend in person, of course, but enough to appear via hologram.
He had not yet activated the holoprojector, but it was ready at his feet, waiting for the auction to officially begin before he turned it on. Some of the other attending parties were doing the same, if their own holoprojectors were any indication. A part of him wished that the all-Rodian Kenu Clan, representing the interests of the Hutt Clans, had attended via hologram as their repugnant aroma was already beginning to fill the room.
As the gathered parties all waited in hushed silence, a pair of Gamorreans came out from one of the warehouse’s storage halls lugging a massive container of some kind, with a piece of cloth draped over it. Trask could not help but raise an eyebrow at that; he hadn’t been expecting this artifact to be so large. How had it escaped anyone’s notice in all this time?
As the Gamorreans set the container down on the floor, a grayish-green Khil stepped forward, rubbing his hands together as he regarded the assembled groups with greedy black eyes. The tendrils hanging from his face quivered as it creased in the rough equivalent of a smile.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming here. My name is Xedar, representative of Cravlov Enterprises.”
Trask knew a front name when he heard one; Cravlov he was pretty sure was a local Tarisian crime lord who lived in the Upper City. This Xedar fellow was likely nothing more than an errand boy who ran his more seedier operations so that he could keep up appearances among the Tarisian elite.
But, that really wasn’t either of his business; it was pretty typical as far as the criminal underworld was concerned. Instead, he took the Khil’s entrance as his cue to switch on the holoprojector at his feet. The life-sized image of the Boss materialized in front of him, projecting the slender form of a golden-skinned Halaisi woman, dressed in a stylish black dress that left her shoulders bare. Her appearance was a somewhat jarring juxtaposition to that of Trask and his fellow Snatchers, all who more or less had the typical roguish appearance of bounty hunters, mercenaries, and pirates. But no one in the room seemed to care about that fact.
“Out of respect for your time,” Xedar went on, “I will not get into too much preamble. Still, I don’t think it would hurt for you all to know the full story of this artifact just so that you fully understand its value.”
He dug into the pocket of his coat and brought out a holoprojector. He set it on top of the covered-up container and switched it on. The shimmering image of the Sith artifact was projected for all to see. It had an almost bug-like shape; its round “head” bore a circle of red orbs that looked almost like eyes, with a spiral-like disk laying within the center. At the top were two tiny pincers, while three tendrils curved on either side of the artifact. Its golden form tapered off at the bottom, creating the shape of a short, sharp tail.
“This,” Xedar began, “is the Muur Talisman. Created nearly seven thousand years ago for the Sith Lord Karness Muur, it is said to have the capability to turn any living being into rakghouls, horrendous creatures of the darkside.”
Trask resisted the urge to yawn. The sales pitches were always the most boring part of these auctions, especially since he never gave a damn about whatever they were selling. The only thing that interested him about this one was the size of the artifact; it didn’t look to be that large in the hologram, yet the box it was supposedly in was large enough to carry a human.
“For thousands of years, the Talisman was lost, until it was unearthed by the Empire sixty-two years ago. Still, the artifact evaded its grasp, as well as that of anyone who sought it. And trust me, there’s a very good reason for that—”
“E chuuta!” interjected one of the Rodians of the Kenu Clan. “We don’t care about any of this! Just give us your price!”
Xedar chuckled. “Ah, but I was just getting to that. You see, the Muur Talisman is not the only thing up for sale. It actually comes with a little bonus….”
With that, he shucked off the cloth that was covering up the container. A series of gasps rang out from the gathered parties and even Trask raised his eyebrows in surprise. The container, as it turned out, was not just any simple box; it was an oubliette stasis casket, with a large piece of glass that gave them all a glimpse of the young human woman laying within.
“That bonus,” the Khil concluded, “being a living Jedi from the days of the Old Republic!”
* * *
“I have a visual of the quarry.”
“And?”
“Shadow was right.”
“Words no one ever wants to hear.”
Any context to her father’s words was lost on Cera Jarsan as she hid in the rafters high above where the auction was taking place. She did find it rather strange that this was about the second time in a year that she was witnessing an auction involving some ancient Sith artifact that a bunch of crime lords wanted for themselves. And to make matters even worse, one of those present was a man who just so happened to be her girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend.
The Force had a very strange way of testing her.
She forced herself to push such thoughts aside as she focused on the task at hand. The sight of the stasis casket and its contents did indeed confirm the intelligence that the Resistance agent Shadow had provided after he had investigated rumors of a Sith artifact being on Taris. Apparently, from what her father Toah had told her, it was an artifact that Shadow himself had had experience with.
Seven years ago, back when Shadow had been an agent for the Glorian Empire, he had come to Taris to locate the Muur Talisman for the purpose of eliminating Sith artifacts. By that point, it had somehow come into the possession of a Bothan Jedi named Dolar Ven’sol who had come to the planet to investigate similar rumors of such an artifact, and the Talisman had taken control of Ven’sol, driving him to unleash a horde of rakghouls. Ven’sol was eventually dealt with and was left for Shadow to deal with it. However, another Glorian agent—one who had gone rogue—interfered with his mission and he had been forced to kill her, but somehow had lost sight of the Talisman.
Cera didn’t think the ex-Glorian’s story fully added up, but it wasn’t her place to poke holes in his story. Not at the moment, anyway. Besides, the artifact that was around the mysterious woman’s neck did indeed match the description of the Muur Talisman… and the woman herself matched the description of the ancient Jedi who, according to recovered Imperial records, had been reawakened by Darth Vader on a desert moon some sixty years ago. That same Jedi had then been encountered by Vader’s son—and her father’s master—Luke Skywalker some twenty years after that.
Beyond that, there had been no sightings of the woman, not even during Ven’sol’s brief uprising seven years ago. It had been generally assumed by the rest of the Jedi that Ven’sol had either been driven to kill her, or the Talisman itself had done so. Evidently, neither of those had turned out to be the case….
As the assembled crime bosses began shouting out numbers to bid on the artifact, Cera took a moment to assess each group, of which she counted six. For the Snatchers, there was only Trask and four others, none of whom had been there at Ord Talavos as she was pretty sure they had all killed each other. Besides the Kenu Clan, three of the other four organizations being represented were all holdouts from the collapse of the Malvis Cabal: the Tandoon Clan, now led by the Gaar Dranjat; the Open Eye Syndicate once led by Mikus; and the Void Pirates formerly led by Fehkla Gorr.
The sixth and final group was one Cera had only heard of before but never encountered in her journeys. Comprised of marauders that always wore masks, they seemed to alternate between calling themselves Heralds of the Storm or Heirs of the Nihil; in any case, they seemed to be fashioned after a group of anarchists that had caused a few years of trouble for the Old Republic during the Golden Age, over two centuries before the Clone Wars. Their leader, present only in holographic form, didn’t even show themselves visually, instead being represented by four-sided insignia of the Nihil.
The fact that these guys had decided to attend this auction in particular was significant in Cera’s eyes; she remembered hearing about them being offered a place in the Malvis Cabal on more than one occasion and each time they had rejected it. Them being here now was a definite indicator that this artifact was likely the real deal; if it wasn’t, she imagined there was going to be a lot of bloodshed….
“Sold!” The Khil auctioneer’s voice rang out as his finger pointed directly at the leader of the Open Eye Syndicate, a member of a one-eyed species with pointed ears that Cera did not know the name of. The alien pumped his fist in celebration as the other members of his entourage cheered. The rest of the groups shared disgruntled expressions, while the Nihil wannabees simply stayed perfectly still, holding their weapons aloft.
As the Open Eye leader began to step forward, one of the masked marauders—a Devaronian judging by the horns jutting out from his head—suddenly raised his blaster and fired it at the one-eyed alien. The blaster bolt went straight through the leader’s eyestalk and he crumpled into a lifeless heap on the floor.
“The artifact belongs to us!” the marauder cried out. “Death to all who evade the shadow!”
Before Cera knew it, blaster fire began to ring out from all of the assorted parties and she had to duck to avoid a stray bolt that zipped towards the ceilings. As chaos unfolded below, she heard the comm-piece in her ear intone and she raised a hand to it.
“I hear blasterfire,” her father’s voice came through. “What’s going on?”
“Someone won the auction and nobody’s happy about it,” she replied.
“What do you intend to do?”
She let out her breath in a huff. “What a Jedi is supposed to do, I suppose.” She unclipped her lightsaber hilt from her belt and ignited its emerald blade. “Bring a peaceful resolution to the situation.”
* * *
Trask heard the tell-tale sound of a lightsaber turning on, but before he could deduce where it came from, he was knocked to the ground by a Gamorrean falling on top of him. The smell of singed flesh quickly filled his nose and with a grunt he tried to shove the dead porcine’s body off of him but to no avail.
“Mulb!” he cried out. “Get this thing off me!”
A burly Lasat Snatcher leaped towards his position, firing over his shoulder at one of the Rodians. He landed at Trask’s side and pushed the Gamorrean’s corpse off of him before helping him to his feet.
Over the sound of constant blaster fire, Mulb said, “The Boss ain’t gonna be happy about this.”
“She never is,” Trask grunted. “Now let’s get the hell out of here. Can you lift the casket?”
“I might be able to with Zakta’s help.”
“Good. Go get her and haul this thing out of here.”
As Mulb went to go find his Dowutin comrade, Trask caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned to see a young woman—a few years his junior—jump down from the rafters, wielding a green lightsaber in her hand. Her dark eyes locked into his and he felt his heart sink into his stomach as recognition of her face registered in his mind.
He had of course seen the holos and the wanted posters. He knew the bounties that were posted on her head.
But more than that, he knew who she was currently dating.
“Oh, karabast,” was all he could get out before an invisible force sent him flying off his feet. He felt his head collide with one of the storage containers and then everything went out like a light.
* * *
The lightsaber hadn’t gotten their attention, but her pushing Trask aside with the Force certainly had. The surviving fighters stopped and all eyes fell on Cera as she stood before them.
“Here is a brilliant idea,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. “How about we all put away our weapons and discuss this like adults?”
“You first,” growled a Dowutin Snatcher. “Switch off your light stick thingy.”
“Wait a minute,” said a three-eyed Gran from the Tandoon Gang. “I recognize her. She’s the Dowager’s daughter!”
“Which one?” asked one of the Void Pirates.
“The one she disowned. The one she posted a huge bounty on.”
Cera rolled her eyes. “The one who isn’t even biologically related to her. Look, can we please just—”
“Is it even possible to cash in the bounty on her?” asked another Tandoon thug. “I’m pretty sure the Dowager’s dead.”
“I hear the Chief of State’s the one who’s offering a payout for her,” chuckled a Rattataki pirate. “Imagine that: even the President of the galaxy wants her out of the picture.”
Cera took in a deep breath, her grip on her lightsaber tightening. Don’t let them get to you, she told herself. They’re trying to make you mad.
They do deserve a good beating though, don’t they?
She closed her eyes in annoyance. There was that damn voice again; the one that had been taunting her since the auction on Ord Talavos. It had been a while since she had last heard it, yet still it persisted. She tried to ignore it—no, she had to ignore it. Remember your training, remember your training.
“Say,” the voice of the Gran thug cut back into her thoughts. “Are you still with that Pantoran lady? Pretty sure she’s an outcast, too.”
“Oh, yeah!” The Rattataki pirate laughed. “That’s the whole reason her momma disowned her—’cos she’s a schutta-lover!” He then gave a leery grin at Cera. “Tell me, is it true what they say about Pantorans? That they taste like—”
Her eyes snapped open and she could watched as the Rattataki’s body went flying straight into the stasis casket. He crashed into it with a loud snap coming from his back. The force of the impact was enough to topple the casket over and there was the sound of glass shattering.
It was only then that Cera realized that her other arm was outstretched. She slowly lowered it as the realization of what she had just done dawned at her.
No. No, no, no….
No longer paying her any mind, the various pirates, thugs, and marauders scurried to get their hands on the casket’s contents, whether it be the Sith artifact or the woman who wore it. The Devaronian marauder was the first to reach it, after shooting the Gran thug between the eyes, and climbed over the toppled container.
“For the eye of the storm, I claim—” The Devaronian suddenly choked on his words as he staggered away from the casket. The others stopped and watched him as he desperately clawed at his neck and face. He grabbed onto the edges of his mask and wrenched it off, revealing a crimson face that was quickly draining of color. Blood leaked from his eyes and mouth as his body started to bend and twist in ways it was not supposed to. His skin bubbled as he ripped off his clothing to expose it, his entire form growing larger with every passing second. His horns broke off as his head morphed into something completely unrecognizable, his mouth now a hideous maw of razor-sharp teeth. Spikes jutted out from his back as the newly formed creature dropped down into a crouch, its small black eyes now searching for prey.
Its gaze fell on the Khil auctioneer and it lunged at him, scratching at his face. Cera could only watch in horror as the Khil went through the same transformation, just as the first creature went after one of the Rodians.
As the other pirates and marauders started to open fire on the emerging mutations, a figure emerged from behind the casket. A tall human woman clad in ancient Jedi armor that exposed some of her pale skin, black hair flowed from her head as her eyes blazed red. Her mouth twisted up into a grin that was as horrifying and inhuman as those of the rakghouls taking shape around her. When she spoke, her voice was intermixed with that of a spirit pulled straight from the depths of Chaos.
“And now, young Jedi, you shall taste the wrath of Karness Muur!”
As one, the rakghouls turned on Cera and, ignoring the ones shooting at them, began to charge at her as she raised her green blade in defense.
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