“Alright, open the holocron and we'll see what our forebears left for us.” The Zabrak paced behind the Krath sorcerer in his black armor, boots scuffing a path in the dust of the ancient temple. After a long year of searching, the treasure of Sadik Deris was finally about to be his. Legends held that whoever opened it was granted tremendous power, the usual spiel one might hear. However, Deris was rumored to have discovered a way to affect spacetime itself, manipulating its essence through the Force. Such knowledge would be instrumental in securing the Knight’s position within Plagueis.
The sorcerer nodded and placed her hands over the artifact. Crinkling her fingers in concentration she fed the Force through it, small waves of energy pulsating from it in response. She paused to make sure she had not set off some sort of defense mechanism, but after nothing eviscerated either of them for a second she continued. Kul’tak watched in bemused interest. He could feel the power emanating from the device. It was repressing yet alleviating all at the same time.
He almost went into a defensive stance when the sorcerer cursed under her breath.
“What's wrong, Rusa?” She bent her Togrutan head and gave a small laugh.
“I did it. I think I actually unlocked the thing. Ha ha! That knight promotion is in the bag!”
The Zabrak grinned from behind her as the holocron cracked and light spilled from its seams. Indeed, she had unlocked its secrets.
He reached a hand into his cloak.
“Well done…my apprentice.” His crimson saber burst to life and swiftly relieved the girl of her head. “Unfortunately, someone from Odan Ur has no place here. Plagueis spares no room for the weak.” He lifted a foot and pushed the decapitated cadaver to the ground.
He focused again on the holocron, which was beginning to hum and shake. Fluorescent light poured forth more violently than before. It began to rumble and rattle incessantly, making Kul think it was getting ready to explode. He ducked behind a crumbling onyx pillar and watched as the device burst open in a blinding flash. Air began to sluice into the opening, creating a vortex of sharp wind. It made a loud sucking noise, before exploding outward again. This time, however, something flew out.
Kul blinked to regain his sight and peered around the pillar half expecting to see the Sith himself, most likely enraged at being summoned from his eternal prison. If the being before him was indeed Sadik, he did not exactly cut an impressive figure. Short brown hair covered an oval shaped face, circling his cheeks to form a thick, scraggly beard. He stood approximately 1.7 meters, and wore some sort of blue coarse fabric on his legs, while adorning a durasteel colored jacket. He was most likely human; he bore no signs of being otherwise.
The boy (he appeared to be not much older than Kul’tak) stood and brushed himself off, wide eyes taking in the scene around him. He reached a hand up and twisted the skin on his arm. When he didn't wake up he muttered to himself: “Ohhhhh crap, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto.” His language was Basic, but there was a sort of twang to it. It reminded him of the tribal accents on Iridonia. He’d never heard of a “Kansas” before. The boy looked harmless enough; his presence in the Force barely registered. Kul stepped out from behind the pillar and approached, still holding his saber hilt, the blade withdrawn.
The boy immediately focused his eyes on the Knight, suddenly emanating a wave of surprise and fear. There was also a twinge of recognition. Kul couldn't understand why, he'd definitely never seen this human before. It began to fade a little as curiosity replaced the initial terror. The boy cocked his head slightly and rearranged the black-rimmed glasses on his face.
“Afternoon. You wouldn't perchance be a Zabrak, would you?” Kul lifted an eyebrow.
“Of course I'm a Zabrak. You mean to tell me you've never seen one of my race?”
The boy gave a soft laugh. “You might could say that. Not in person, anyway. You seem sort of familiar, though.” His eyes widened again as a thought passed through his mind. “For the love of...you're name wouldn't happen to be Kul’tak, would it?” Again the Knight was thrown off by this stranger.
“How do you know my name, human? Was Sadik aware of my coming? Or perhaps you were sent in his place to prevent me from finding his secrets? I will have them.” He took a step forward at the last question and pulled the boy into the air above him.
“Whoa, whoa, chill bruh. Who's Sadik? I don't even know where I am much less some random person you just mentioned. Though, I suppose I do know where I am in a sense. And I definitely know you, Drol.” Kul set him down. He just wasn't entirely sure how to react to this.
“And how do you know me?”
There was a brief pause as the boy mustered the courage to reveal his knowledge. The Knight was an imposing figure in his armor. “Because Kul, I created you. Technically. There's some biological stuff I didn't help with, the whole ‘when a man loves a woman’ spiel. But yeah, there ya go.”
Kul blinked as he processed this new information. His temple throbbed as his anger ebbed and flowed in spurts. Was he seriously supposed to believe this? His creator?! He said as much.
“Well let me prove it then. We’ve never met before, we're agreed on that?” Kul nodded. “Ok. Your master is Taranae Rhode, redhead extraordinaire. You practice Jar’kai but only wield one saber because you're not an Equite yet. You have a pet Vornskr named Shar’kala. Aaaand something no one else would know: your tattoos signify the loss of your family and the pain you try to hide as you struggle with your loyalties to their memory and your loyalty to Plagueis.” He tapped a finger at each one to outline them as a list.
Kul felt his mouth drop slowly as he gaped dumbstruck at this boy who claimed to be his creator. Everything he had said was true, and certainly not just anyone would know this information. But how was this possible? The sorcery of Sadik, perhaps? One puzzle revealed another.
“I don't know how you came to know this information, human, but you've peaked my curiosity.” Kul placed his saber back within the folds of his cloak.
“You aint the only one confused right now, bud. I just left a world in which there's not even space travel per say and the Force is a fictional story element.”
Kul and the boy blinked at each other in perplexed confusion. Kul spoke first.
“Say I agree to believe this. What now?”
“An excellent question, my friend. Or son? Does being your creator make me your father in a sense?” The boy stopped when he received a deadly look. “Friend it is. Anyway, you wouldn't happen to have a black hole nearby, would you? That's the way some people get back in movies.”
A grin passed over the Zabrak’s face. “No, but I'd be happy to find one and toss you in if you want.” Something about his tone made it understood he'd enjoy that outcome. The boy sighed.
“Nah forget that. I suppose if I can't get back I may have to make the best of being here.” He turned and picked up the holocron. “Better bring this just in case.” Kul immediately snatched it from him and stuffed it in his cloak beside his saber.
“I'll be the one to carry this. If what you say is true, and I'm not saying I believe it just yet, perhaps you could be of some use. It appears I'm not getting what I originally wanted from the holocron, in any case. Come, I'll bring you back with me to the *Anchorage.*" He paused and tilted his head. “I don't suppose you know what that is already?”
“Large metal station recaptured by Plagueis to use as a headquarters. Currently still possesses some sorts of dark energy and possibly beings. I might have heard of it.”
The two began walking to the shuttle awaiting Kul'tak to return to. The boy stayed a step behind, cautiously trying to stay aware of his surroundings. Upon boarding, he was tackled as a small black blur catapulted their way. A quadruped with short fur and wicked teeth pinned him down with a warning growl daring him to make a move. Kul laid a reassuring hand upon the Vornskr.
“It's ok, girl. He's with us. For now, anyway.” She backed away and sat, watching the newcomer curiously. The boy rubbed his backside and winced.
“So this is a Vornskr. She is indeed a beautiful specimen. Hello, Shar’kala.” He offered a hand for her to sniff. She refused at first, but curiosity eventually won out and she approached slowly. She huffed around him to his great amusement. Deciding he was indeed worthy to remain alive a bit longer, she padded over to her master and laid at his feet. The Zabrak took a seat in the pilot’s chair, spinning it to face his new acquaintance.
“If Shar’kala thinks you're ok, then that will satisfy me for now. You will remain with me, however. Until I decide if you're worth keeping around.”
The boy looked up from the Vornskr, who he had sidled up to and preceded to pet. “Oh I can be of great use to you. In fact, I believe I can give you a way to become great within Plagueis.” The boy stood slightly, putting him eye to eye with the Sith. “How would you like to know your enemy’s greatest weaknesses? Or better yet, your Clan’s weaknesses? You would be able to achieve the revenge you crave for your family.” Kul's eyebrows rose at that. His family had perished at the hands of a Jedi after being found by a Plagueis inquisitor. He'd never forgiven either side for that slaughter. “I can help you achieve all of this.”
“How?”
The boy tapped the side of his head. “It's all in here. Remember when I said I created you? Well the same place I did that has what you might call datacrons of information on everyone within the Brotherhood. Including their strengths and weaknesses. So you might say I could theoretically assassinate everyone in the Brotherhood, as long as I had the power to do it. That's where you'd come in. So how bout it? Wanna rule the world?”
Kul'tak pursed his lips and rubbed his face. The boy could be lying, but he'd sensed no deceit in him. If that was the case, his proposal was indeed a bold one. Taking on his own superiors? Normally the Knight would never have even considered it, but with the secret to their defeat so readily available he could not help but dwell on the possibilities this could open up for him. Striking a deathblow to his clan went against everything his father had taught him, but it was they who sanctioned his father’s death to begin with.
The boy knew his decision as soon as his tattooed hands tensed and curled around the armrests of his chair. “Yes. Tell me everything.”