First Sight

Rating: NC-17.
Warning: Where Maul sees Coruscant for the first time.
Disclaimer: Lucas and Lucasfilm own the characters, and this is for fun, to develop the character of Maul as a true sentient being, who makes his own choices, and suffers the consequences thereof.
Feedback: dark-lady@blueyonder.co.uk
Initial posting: DMEB, the original and wonderful Maul site, then revised for dmeb2.

He had visited his father once or twice, at his postings on other worlds, but then he had been a child, not a man, and he had always obeyed his mother's injunctions to be seated, restrained, not show excitement.

But by the gods, he was excited now, and even though he was a man, or so he thought, his mother's injunctions remained!

He fidgeted, and catching himself tapping his claws on the arm of the seat, closed his eyes, meditated on his currently favourite subject of weapons and war, and calmed himself.

No mother to restrain him now - but he really should be dignified, appear composed, as befitted his own rank, and that of his mentor who had sent him the ticket to visit him on Coruscant, a holiday from the Military College of Iridonia.

The ship winked out of hyperspace and using the ion drives, manoeuvred into a parking orbit over the planet of Cinthara. An irregular stop, perhaps to pick up a special passenger or shipment .

He looked out of the small shielded window, then looked again. The position in which the ship was stationed gave him a superb view of the Lights of Neguib.

The sight was stunning, beautiful, a massive display of coruscating blue and green lights flickering over the pole of an otherwise very non-descript planet, the whole set against a backdrop of pinpoint crystal stars in a velvet black sky. He forgot to breathe. He placed the fingers of his left hand on the surface of the transparisteel window, totally absorbed in the beauty and wonder of it, as if trying to touch it, reach out to it.

Space travel was a tedious process for passengers, with interstellar travel involving a transition or two through hyperspace from the jump-off point from one system to the destination point at the next. Only streaks of light to see for passing stars, no wonder to see en-route, no strange thing to tantalise the mind or spirit.

He used an old trick, and tried to fill the whole of his vision with the sight before him, pressing his nose to the window, shielding his eyes from the light in the cabin, but his frontal horns got in the way. Not good, he needed more, stood up, demanded attention from a steward - this was Ambassador Class after all!

His mentor's wealth was useful here, he wanted something? He had but to ask. However, he asked but very little, having few needs and being of an ascetic nature.

But this was different, so different. His very soul demanded to see these lights, feeling that somehow they were important to him, or would be perhaps, in a dim far distant future he barely glimpsed.

Impatient now he made his request to the steward. In his untutored way he tried a trick found in one of Palpatine's books - he planted the suggestion in the steward's mind to enforce a positive outcome.

The steward staggered as if taking a heavy blow, as indeed he had, and looked apprehensively, puzzled, at the boy. Khameir smile a little and repeated his request, but without the reinforcement this time.

The steward murmured agreement, he would ask the captain, and disappeared unsteadily in the direction of the pilot's cabin.

The captain agreed. Yes - the young Lord Sarin could view the lights from the control point, a special favour for the ward of the Regional Governor of Naboo.

If he was but a little younger, he would have run, but remembering that he was now grown up - he had fourteen summers - and conscious of his status, he forced himself to walk calm-like to the front of the ship. The captain smilingly showed him the control point, bade him sit, and enjoy the view. He was pleased the young man was interested in the wonders in the heavens, not many appreciated such. He hoped that as a fellow military man it would inspire him to a space command of his own soon.

Wearing it every day, Khameir forgot he wore a uniform, even though it was a simple affair of black tunic, baggy breeches, and leather boots and belt. His college and year insignia were worn on his belt, at the place where his weapon of choice would be worn when he was granted permission to do so at his graduation.

He scrambled into the pilots' chair, which was too big for him, the pilot being a wookiee. The view was good, but could be better. The captain looked, thought a little.

"We are not going to dock for another hour or so..." and talking to the navigator, computed the thrust necessary to turn the ship a few degrees to starboard and fired the thrusters for a second.

And dimming the lighting within the cockpit, smiled, gestured with his hand to the full magnificence of the Lights, visible through the forward screen.

Far away, the captain asked if he knew how the lights were formed, the cause of them, the reason for their being, and receiving a shake of the head from his guest, quietly made his explanations.

He could see the child was entranced by them, and remembered his own excitement at these lights when he first saw them.

Finished, the captain retreated to the co-pilots seat at the back of the cabin, just to discreetly watch, to ensure the ship was safe, to leave the boy some privacy.

Khameir stared some more. He tried the trick again so that the lights occupied the whole of his vision, moving closer to the screen, adjusting his position. The ever-changing display continued, sometimes flickering a purple shade on the edge of the blue, sometimes dancing a hint of gold on the edge of the green. He was there for an hour or more, hardly moving. Once the lights flickered and almost disappeared, as did his breathing until they flared up again.

At one point, he regulated his breathing until he fell into a light trance, then he felt his body fall into the Lights, soar among them, feel the sparks as the gases ionised against his skin, charged it with a blue iridescence.

But it was there, and he stored the experience away, knowing he would use this technique again, refine it, enhance it, make it last.

The captain gave him all the time he could, but then the ship must move, the shuttle must dock, and special shipments be brought aboard. Golden eyes shining, Khameir made his thanks quietly and seriously as befitted the gift he had been granted, and returned to his seat. He closed his eyes and relived the experience, remembering every flicker of light, every change of colour, storing the memories away to relive them later, again and again until he arrived at Coruscant.

He was met by a protocol droid, of sweet voice and fussy nature, which organised the shuttle transport to Palpatine's apartments, and his baggage. This latter was a small affair for he had few needs of a material nature, some changes of uniform, his datapad and spare cubes and books, a practice droid, and his staves. Most of all his staves, for he was fanatical about practise and training...

A practice session with Regional Governor Palpatine? Khameir was surprised at the suggestion but agreed with alacrity. For lack of opponents he had been training on his own in one of the rooms allocated for his use, and this would be a welcome change from use of the practice droid.

Knowing his own power and not that of his host, he chose one of the lighter staves so as not to inadvertently cause injury or hurt, and turned up at the appointed time dressed in loose knee length practice breeches and soft boots tied at the ankle. Palpatine was wearing longer breeches and a sleeveless tunic. Being of middle age, his body was thickset, but powerful, and not yet run to fat. He sized up Khameir's stave, asked if he was sure, chuckled a little, and after the customary bows, started to battle.

A short time later, Khameir realised his mistake regarding the stave, and after his first submission, requested leave to change his weapon for a heavier, more powerful one. Palpatine was not the flabby bureaucrat he had thought him to be, and indeed was very well trained, proving a formidable opponent.

"I think not boy. Such a request could not be made in the heat of battle, could it now!" said Palpatine, making an effective blocking manoeuvre followed by a vicious jab to the shoulder.

Khameir fell back and submitted a second time, hiding his welling anger at the inevitable bruising which would follow, keeping his silence. He asked himself what advantages he had over his benefactor, what could he use to not only make up the disadvantage caused by using the wrong stave, but also to give him an edge. Youth perhaps, and his gymnastic ability.

Palpatine pushed him hard, giving no quarter, no leeway to a youngster much smaller and lighter than himself. He made Khameir angry, lose focus and concentration, and Khameir knew it.

He brought him down the third time by bringing the stave hard behind his knees, causing him to fall onto the floor.

Starting the fourth bout, Khameir focussed much more intently, balanced himself in a lighter way, prepared himself to catapult and spring out of the way of Palpatine's stave, which he did when his stave came crashing up towards his chest.

Palpatine grunted in admiration. This was not a feat he could perform for himself, and the young pup was using any skill he could to retrieve something from the bout. Good! That was what this lesson was about. Not the ritualised formal training performed at his school, but the application of any talent in a particular situation to achieve a desired end. One of his talents was the use of the Force, so would he think to use that then? Probably not, he was young in the use of it, barely aware that he had it.

So Palpatine directed a small object from the edge of the arena to the boys head. Khameir saw it and without thinking, deflected it using some deep dark energy within the recesses of his mind, bounced it off the wall, sent it back to its position, and grinned hugely at the discovery of his new talent.

Was too proud too early, as he found to his cost when he was floored a fourth time by the stave coming at him from above. He dropped and rolled out of the way, but the stave thudded down at the side of his head, just missing....

From his prone position he looked at the stave just an inch away, saw it was shod with hard metal.

But the hardest lesson he kept to himself, and that was that no quarter would ever be given. Ever.

The lesson ended, Palpatine looked at the boy. The man within him was aroused, he wanted to strip, caress, tantalise, and to bend, persuade, force...

He felt himself grow hard and allowed it. It was a long time since such spontaneity had come his way. His flesh started to throb with need for the boy's body.

The boy walked away from his hand, just a yard or so and out of reach. He picked up his stave, turned and smiled.

Towelling the sweat off his face and watching the boy walk to the shower, Palpatine appraised him as if seeing him for the first time. The boy was well formed, with a deep chest and powerful arms for his age. He had a natural fluidity and grace that was beautiful to watch and he was so much like his father - Palpatine had felt the faint stirrings of interest then also, but after the first revelation, while the adult had smiled, discussed the business in hand, made charming conversation, distracted him, the desire had gone, disappeared.

The Sith within him stayed his eager hand and mouth, bade him consider, cooled the burning of his body. The Sith within him whispered it was better the boy was a willing convert to the teachings and dark wisdom of the Sith, not a forced recruit. Doing this now would need force and therefore alienate the child, make him resentful and unwilling to learn. Continue the corruption of his mind, seduce him to the Dark Side slowly with things of the intellect, ensnare his boundless curiosity. 'Take him slowly, sate your appetites elsewhere,' said the Sith.

For Khameir's part, his father had prepared him well for this. Seeing the boys unusual beauty, and knowing of the dark desires that sometimes came upon men in their search for it, he had shown him how to deflect such interest. He had also told him that anything in his sexual life was permissible, as long as he decided for himself, that he agreed to it, that it was his own free choice, and most of all, that there was no hurt to body or spirit.

To give the boy wider experience, Palpatine arranged training bouts at a temple in the city, against boys his own age and older. Some of these opponents were the most skilled in their chosen discipline, and practise with these gave him greater balance and fluidity. Some were street fighters of great ability, chosen for their cunning and use of unorthodoxy. Practise with these gave him greater power of anticipation, similar cunning, and a most fierce desire to win, survive.

Khameir now on his way back to Iridonia, Palpatine settled in his chair, comfortably sipping a fine liqueur from Aldebaraan. Yes, the boy was coming along nicely, his subtle corruption was working well, very well indeed. The boy was incredibly strong in the Force, and starting to use it, experiment with it, already. He must hasten the process, teach him more techniques for control of it.

When he had first seen the boy as a youngster, Palpatine had thought he might make him his catamite, liking the exotic look of the boy, and excited by his fiery, almost feral temperament, not to mention his natural grace and physical ability. He would be fun to tame to his desires. But for now he preferred the human kind, and besides, having learned of Zabrak physiology and this Tai Shan custom of theirs, he knew the boy could not respond as he required.

So be it. He wanted his future apprentice to be thirsty for knowledge of the Sith and their customs, their power, their place in the galaxy. He wanted his apprentice to be hungry for leadership, to take his own place in due course. A small matter of personal sexual desire must take second place to the overwhelming need for continuation of the order by a strong individual, powerful and competent in the use of the dark side of the Force. Besides, there was always the matter of ritual, he might introduce some sort of sexual congress into the Ritual of the First Coming, and perhaps the Second and Third come to that. He might have the pleasure of his pretty body after all.

As for now, his young Lord Khameir Sarin was taking in knowledge like a sponge, rejecting teachings he, Palpatine knew to be false, misleading.

The Sith would be well served by eventually having this boy as their Master, in due time.

He sipped the last of his liqueur and watched the flame, slipping easily into a long practised meditation.

First Sight.

by

Dark Lady