Epilogue For a Zabrak

The old Zabrak male sat outside his small log cabin on Iridonia, waiting for death’s release. And as far as he could tell, death would not keep him waiting much longer. His bones ached, his heart was beating irregularly and his breathing was laboured; and sometimes when he coughed, he gagged and his mouth filled with blood, telling him his stomach was bleeding again. But more than anything, the deep scar circling his waist caused him agony these days. When he was younger it had been painful, but now it was a never-ending agony, preventing him from sleeping. The scar reminded him vividly of his failure when he was a young man, when he … The old Zabrak ran his black hand with the red tattoos over his wrinkled face and coughed. No, he was not going to think about that, not again, not right now.

The setting suns of Iridonia coloured the sky a blazing red and gold as they took their leave of the planet for the day. The old man breathed in the thick, earthy smell of the red soil and as he squinted, the sky merged with the earth to become a shimmering blur. Oh yes, death was near, he sensed it in the balmy air around him and he welcomed it. He touched the damaged horns on his head and made a murmur at the back of his throat.

“We shall be united soon, beloved,” he whispered and rose from his bench with difficulty.

As he shuffled slowly inside, his limp more pronounced than ever before, a woman carrying a small basket came walking up to the cabin.

“Ch’on Sarin, I have brought you your supper,” she smiled pleasantly and followed him into the cabin. “How are you tonight, ch’on?”

“I am well. Thank you for bringing me the food,” Khameir Sarin said and nodded at the woman facing him.

She was middle-aged, her skin light for a Zabrak, not the deep jet-black, but the soft brown colour of ladhi’ka wood. Zabrak girls with such light skins were not considered very beautiful, but Kh’inessa had a radiant smile that dimpled her cheeks and with her statuesque figure, she had never lacked attention. On her forehead, just under the hairline, she had the three horns of a Zabrak female. Her eyes were a lovely golden colour, and even though her hair was greying, she had a youthful charm.

About forty years ago Kh’inessa had first seen Khameir Sarin. His fame as a martial arts teacher made him an honoured personality on Iridonia and many girls giggled and blushed as the impressive figure of forty-five year old Khameir passed by on his way to the school. Kh’inessa had fallen madly in love with the older man, who did not grant any of the women a glance as he walked by. She admired his graceful step and his powerful body, but the awesome beauty of his tattooed face, with the deeply etched lines, struck her. Not even the damaged horns on his head could detract from his attraction, although Kh’inessa wondered how they had come to be damaged in this way.

However, Khameir Sarin had not been interested in Kh’inessa or any of the other girls. Later, when she became of age, she was married off to Sardar, an older man with enough money to allow her to live in comfort. Kh’inessa had never loved her husband and the only thing that gave her life some colour was the fact that Sardar’s house was very close to where Khameir Sarin’s log cabin stood. Sometimes Kh’inessa sat in her garden when Khameir passed by on his way to the store or his school and he would acknowledge her greeting with a brief nod. Those were the days when Kh’inessa hummed cheerfully while doing her household chores and a young girl’s blush highlighted her honey-coloured cheeks.

Within the space of three years Kh’inessa gave birth to two daughters and lived in comparative happiness for fifteen years before her husband suddenly died from heart failure, leaving her a young widow of thirty-six. She was well aware that Khameir Sarin would never love her, but as they both grew older, the great warrior came to appreciate her cheerful greetings and friendly words whenever she saw him. Sometimes the solitary, taciturn Zabrak would exchange a few words with her. But even though he warmed towards her, Kh’inessa never stopped using the polite ‘ch’on Sarin’. They were neighbours, but Khameir never told her to use his first name, thus remaining aloof even to her.

Kh’inessa was the only one in the small village whose presence Khameir Sarin tolerated near him. As he limped slowly into the store one day to buy supplies, she offered to help him. The old man wanted to shrug her off, but the weak state his body was in left him little choice but to accept her assistance, and in time he came to appreciate her company in his solitude. Kh’inessa was more Force-sensitive than most Zabrak and she sensed the awesome, dark powers this old man hid under his frail exterior. All young Zabrak males on Iridonia had once sought him out because of his incredible fighting skills, but Kh’inessa suspected no one knew just how powerful and dark he really was.

For many years Khameir Sarin owned a school for the martial arts on Iridonia. The school was famous for its superb training and the reputation of its owner legendary. Every aspiring warrior on Iridonia fought to be allowed a place at the school and it was considered a high honour if Khameir Sarin chose you to be one of his pupils. Only the best, strongest and most honourable of Zabrak youngsters were chosen after a gruelling test, which included a survival trip in Iridonia’s unforgiving desert. Once accepted, they were submitted to a rigorous training schedule, where only the toughest students graduated after four years of hardship. Graduates from the Sarin School were highly sought after by Iridonian warlords, - even rulers from other planets had them command their elite forces, or made them their personal bodyguards.

But those days were over now. Khameir Sarin had given the school to his apprentice Dolann, who in honour of his Master took on the name Sarin as his own. No longer a strong man, Khameir Sarin had retired to his log cabin to live out his life in solitude, alone with all his memories. The school had brought him fame and fortune, yet he wanted none of it, merely seeking solitude in his simple home. Now he had become too old and ill to leave his cabin and grudgingly accepted the help of Kh’inessa. He cursed his weakness, but old age left him no other option, he could no longer make the trip to the store and back.

Kh’inessa placed her basket on the table in the small living room and put a log on the low-burning fire. She sensed the old man was in pain and wanted to be alone, so she dimpled at him and turned to go. “Enjoy your dinner ch’on Sarin. I will come back tomorrow.”

The old Zabrak nodded, grateful he did not have to display weakness and pain before her. He was no longer hungry, yet the food smelled good and he sat down to sample the savoury vegetable stew. After only a few mouthfuls he pushed his plate away and stared ahead. Recently the house seemed to come alive after dark, soft voices talking, furtive shadows rushing past him. The shadows in his semi-dark room took the form of his former Master, as they had so often lately.

“Ah, you have come to haunt me again, my Master,” Khameir’s raspy voice whispered. “You have not long to wait for me now. I am ready to face you.”

Lord Sidious’s dark laughter sounded in the small room. “A weak old man! The owner of a school? Founder of the New Sith Order? Pshaw! You are nothing but a disgrace and a failure. I was right to replace you by a more worthy apprentice, Maul.”

“Yes, but in the end your ‘worthy apprentice’ was the one who caused your downfall and ended your reign,” Khameir Sarin laughed softly, causing a cough to rack his body.

As he caught his breath he tasted his own blood once more. He clutched his body and fought the waves of pain in his stomach. No, it would not be long now. For many years his control of the dark side allowed him to regenerate his wounded body, at least to the extent that he could function almost at his former strength. In later years his powers dwindled more and more and now he could feel the old internal injuries tear and bleed.

The shadows whirled closer to him, their wispy tendrils softly brushing his cheek. As they changed shape again, he recognised his consort. “Maatkare! Have you finally come for me? It has been so lonely, all those years without you.”

There was no answer and Khameir rose to his feet slowly to go to his chair near the fire where he meditated every night, as he had meditated all his life, still feeling the dark side as it whispered around him. The flames cast dancing shadows on his tattooed face, making the lines appear deeper and harsher. He looked at his few belongings, his table and chairs, his bed and a low chest of drawers where he kept his clothes. It was made from the black wood of from the sha’duan tree, its only decoration the intricate ancient Sith carvings in Iridonian style, and in one of the drawers Khameir kept his treasured lightsaber, neatly wrapped in black silks. It took him many months of hard work to restore it to its old glory after the battle of Naboo, where it had been broken in half. His Master had contemptuously tossed the two parts on his bed, that fateful night when he…. no, not again. Closing his eyes, he emptied his mind and summoned the dark side around him, drawing it in to comfort and strengthen him. However, not even the dark side could hold off death and Khameir let the images sent by the Force flow through him.

*****

Lord Sidious was searching the Galaxy, looking for a child he could mould into a worthy apprentice, and when the time came, his successor. This child would have to be exceptionally strong in the Force and have the phenomenal powers to become a Sith Lord. As his alter ego, Governor Palpatine of Naboo, the Sith Master even visited the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to look among the newly arrived children ascertain if one was suitable, but he had growled at the back of his throat.

“Unworthy. Suitable for inferior Jedi, but not a Sith.”

If any of the toddlers had shown any promise to be trained as a Sith, he would have abducted the child and made it his.

The dark side of the Force and an old book in the extensive Sith library led the Sith to a planet called Iridonia, a fiery red planet with burning deserts of a rusty red sand and along the poles were areas with tropical rainforests and lush green valleys. It was an obscure planet on the Outer Rim where no travellers ventured, but in the book Lord Sidious read about the Goddess of Iridonia, who had been a Sith Warrior herself. The Zabrak people were also renowned throughout the Galaxy for their high tolerance of pain and their powerful mental abilities. That fired his interest and directed his fast, black spacecruiser toward the outer rim.

After landing his sleek ship in a remote part of the desert, Lord Sidious brought his speederbike from the cargo hold and cloaked the spacecraft. He shrouded himself with the dark side and began his search of the planet, looking for that special child. Lord Sidious went from village to village, going into each dwelling where a child was recently born. No one saw him as he entered and examined the children. His hands touched their small bodies, his mind connecting with theirs. But none of the children was the one he searched for. Growling impatiently, Lord Sidious went into another small house, where a woman had just given birth to a baby boy. As soon as he entered the bedroom however, the Sith knew he had come in vain. Still he looked at the tiny infant in its bed and reached out to touch its mind. The baby wailed at the top of its lungs and as Lord Sidious increased his probing, the child began to cough and choke.

“Unworthy!” the Sith Lord thought angrily and a small gesture of his hand severed the delicate ties that held the child to life. He turned and left, unmoved by the screams of the mother as she entered the room and saw her newborn son was dead.

Lord Sidious reached out with the dark side of the Force, searching his surroundings. He sensed the one he was looking for was near, somewhere on this hot planet. Once again the Sith let the dark side guide him. He trampled through the sand to yet another house. This one was made of reddish stone and looked richer than the other places he had been to. On the door was a sign in Zabrak and Basic, ‘Kher’kan Sarin – Healer’. As Sidious let himself into the house, cloaked in the dark side and stepped into the small, but cosy livingroom with its large window overlooking a well-kept garden and the Iridonia desert. He felt a strong presence in the Force, drawing him to a bedroom at the back of the house. At once he knew he found what he was looking for. The Force whirled around the room in strong currents and he saw a cot in which a child of about a month slept. His mother sat beside the cot and raised her head in alarm as if she felt his presence.

“He comes from good stock, mother strong with the Force”, Lord Sidious thought, raising his hand to let the dark side put the mother to sleep at once. Before she slumped, the Sith Lord noticed she was a lovely woman with long, thick black hair, woven into a braid at her back and a pair of beautiful golden eyes. Her face was gentle with a soft, full mouth and the Sith nodded with satisfaction. The boy came from worthy parents. As soon as Darth Sidious approached the cot, the baby opened his eyes and looked at him. His eyes were a shiny golden like his mother’s and his tiny body was delicate and jet-black skinned. The child made a soft murmuring sound and smacked his lips, as if he expected to be fed. He was resting on a pillow that his mother obviously made herself, for it had his name on it in skillful embroidery ‘Khameir’.

Lord Sidious carefully took the tiny child into his arms. The unblinking eyes never left his face and as the Sith touched the mind of the baby, he made a contented sound. This was the one he had come so far to find, exceptionally strong in the Force, worthy to be trained to become a Sith apprentice.

“You are mine now, Khameir Sarin, you shall become the most powerful being in the Universe after me. You shall rule at my side and all shall cringe in fear of you.”

The Sith Lord wrapped the child in the folds of his cloak and left the house to hurry back to where he had hidden his speederbike. He travelled at a lower speed since he was holding the baby to him with one hand, but he reached his ship without encountering any trouble and used his comlink to de-cloak her. As soon as he was on board, Lord Sidious put the baby safely in a small cot he brought for this purpose and after a quick engine-check, he took off for Coruscant, never glancing back at the red planet that was the homeworld of Khameir Sarin.

*****

The first years of Khameir Sarin’s life were nothing like those of normal children. Lord Sidious had no use for a baby, so the nursing of Khameir was left to a few select servants and special tutors, who began training his Zabrak mind skills from the first year of his life on. His first teacher ever stood by his cot, calling his name and making him react to different sounds and gestures. The innocent yellow eyes of the baby followed the hands of the young man standing beside his bed and from time to time gave a toothless grin.

As soon as Khameir could stand, another tutor arrived, an older woman, who began teaching him to speak proper basic. She used a highly advanced technique in which she constantly spoke to the baby while at the same time she connected to his mind and sent the words to him. In this manner the child sensed language as well as heard it. After two years of teaching, Khameir spoke with the voice of a toddler, yet the sentences were clear and completely coherent.

Lord Sidious employed another renowned tutor from Coruscant, who began reading and writing lessons with young Khameir and by the time the boy was three years old, he could both read and write faultlessly, while his mental abilities had improved so much that sometimes he could overpower his teachers. He found at this early age that if he impressed a certain thought upon his coach, they would answer to it, believing it to be their own. At times, when he was bored with his lessons, he could send intense thoughts of fatigue into the minds of his tutors and invariably they would call in a break to rest. Although well-educated, Khameir was still a child and his golden eyes glittered with joy as he observed what he could achieve by mere thought.

At the command of the Sith Master, a teacher came to the mansion to train Khameir in hand-eye coordination. Starting with games of balancing cubes on his tiny hands to twirling balls on his fingertips, every week brought more difficult practice. The tutor had a droid at his disposal which fired a rapid succession of balls from different positions and Khameir had to return them with a small bat. The child was very quickly able to send each ball flying back as he ran and jumped through the training-room with splendid agility. The same teacher began early physical training to develop Khameir’s muscles as well as the very beginnings of the martial arts. Even the hardened trainer found joy in the way in which his young student did his daily routine of high kicks, deep stretches, leaps and hand moves.

“This child will be a great martial artist one day,” the teacher thought as he watched Khameir’s small hand make a chopping move, that would one day enable him to kill an enemy in hand to hand combat.

Over the years, Lord Sidious demanded daily accounts of Khameir’s progress; his stern, blue eyes bored into the faces of the tutors before him and no thought or activity was hidden. However, he forbade any gentleness or affection given to the child. Khameir had a very austere room, with nothing more in it than his cot, a wardrobe, and a small adjacent bathroom.

“The child is not to be pampered,” Lord Sidious told his servants. ”See to it that he is well fed, dressed and above all, educated. When the time is right I shall have him brought before me.”

Khameir was still a small child, but he was intelligent, well-educated and already trained to defend himself should the need arise. He did not smile like other children; his face was impassive, as his martial arts training had taught him.

“One’s face must remain void of expression,” said his teacher, “lest you betray to your enemy what your next move will be.”

Finally, when Khameir was four years old, Lord Sidious sent for him to see if he could begin his Sith education and as the boy stood before him, the Sith Master gave a smile of satisfaction. The child was dressed in black silk trousers and tunic, with a red sash tied round his waist. Lord Sidious had seen to it that Khameir wore the proper attire, for there was nothing the Sith Master loathed more than untidiness.

Khameir was a beautiful child with brilliant, golden eyes, smooth black skin, already possessing the grace that would, later in life, make him stand out above all others. He looked up at the man who was to become his Master as a servant lead him closer to Lord Sidious´s black leather chair.

“So, there you are,” Lord Sidious said quietly.

He dismissed his servant and gestured the child even closer to him. On the boy’s head ten little nubs were forming where the proud horns of an adult Zabrak male would appear. As the awe-inspiring Sith Lord, towering over him touched his head, Khameir’s mouth trembled despite his determination to be brave, and he began to cry. His Zabrak horns were about to penetrate the skin and caused the child much discomfort. On Iridonia his mother would have gently massaged his scalp with a soothing oil, but Lord Sidious had no such qualms. The Sith Master took the child’s tiny chin in his hand and forced him to look into his cold, blue eyes.

“You will stop crying, right now,” the Sith Master’s voice purred softly, but it held such a dangerous threat that Khameir ceased his wailing, hiccupped a few times and then stood in silence before his Master.

Lord Sidious´s powerful mind connected with that of young Khameir’s and found an intelligent, if somewhat unsophisticated, inquisitive personality.

“Yes. I am content. Your training and education will start today,” Sidious said, thinking he would introduce the child to life in Theed, interaction with the people there and how to react to daily situations as they occur. Even though the boy learned in later years to communicate with others, as a result of his childhood, he remained aloof and taciturn throughout his life.

The next part of Khameir’s education was to learn to speak some of the most important languages in the galaxy, as well as master the etiquette of a member of Governor Palpatine's household. Khameir soon knew how to use the various sets of cutlery while at table, instead of using only one fork and knife, picking them at random, he learned to start from the outside and work in. Soon he was ready to become the young apprentice to the Governor. Once on Naboo, home planet of Governor Palpatine, a guest at a banquet given by Palpatine, commented to his wife on the courteous, well educated protégé of the Governor.

“A talented young man, intelligent and well-versed. I foresee he will have a great future in the diplomatic corps before him,” the man said.

Khameir’s studies included learning the other major languages of the galaxy, enabling him to read the original manuscripts and books and learn about the different species. Although, as a child, Khameir had only picked up a few words of Basic from the servants, he mastered languages at an amazing speed, because, as he soon found out, any failure or mistake was followed by severe punishment. As Khameir grew older, he found he craved to read and learn. He was ambitious and as he read more about the ancient Sith, his desire to become the greatest Sith Lord ever, - even to surpass Lord Sidious,- became his motivating drive.

“Knowledge is power,” Lord Sidious repeated almost every day as his apprentice learned all there was to know. “The more you know about another person or species, the easier it is to find their weaknesses and exploit them. Learn, my young apprentice!”

Khameir also discovered – the hard way - that if he did not perform to his Master’s high standards, he received harsh punishment, when he was a child it consisted of beatings. Later as he grew older, punishment became more sophisticated…and more cruel. Often Lord Sidious kept him in a sensory deprivation device for hours, or sometimes even for an endless night. Khameir remembered the first time this happened. He was only seven years old and nothing had prepared him for the terror of the absolute emptiness inside it. No sound, no light, no feelings, no smell, - as if he were floating in a void. The young Zabrak screamed in horror and agony, as his brain almost became disconnected from his body. His nails clawed at the inside of the device in panic. After many hours of crying and absolute terror, Khameir knew Lord Sidious would not free him as long as he screamed and cried, so he fought to control his fears and his shaking body. Slowly he forced his mind to calm, as if he stepped out of his body into a peaceful wood on Naboo waving gently in the cool breeze. He imagined he could touch the trees, feel the rough bark against his fingers and smell the damp moss. It was the only way the boy could think of to cling to his sanity. All sense of time and reality were lost to him and when Lord Sidious finally released him, his legs could hardly carry him. He stood before his Master, shaking with fatigue and intense cold, thinking he would never be warm again. His head reeled and his eyes stung from the sudden harsh light of the underground rooms beneath the Governor’s mansion.

“This will teach you never to rely on your senses. They can deceive you. Trust only the dark side and your instincts,” Lord Sidious said. “You experienced fear, so you will be submitted to the sensory deprivation device until you learn not to fear any longer.”

“Yes, my Master,” Khameir said, his teeth still chattering.

When he was eight years old, Lord Sidious taught Khameir how to reach out with the dark side and bring objects to his hand, or throw them into any direction he chose. The boy wore a black hood over his head to prevent him from seeing his surroundings. Then his Master ordered him to search for a certain object in the room. It could be a stone, it could be a dagger and Khameir reached out with his sensitive mind, first to find where the object was, then to bring it to him. Certainly at the start of his training it happened many times that the stone hit Khameir’s head, or back, but he learned not to wince, for it he did, his Master’s bamboo stick lashed out and hit him. As soon as Khameir learned to discipline his mind and concentrate on the object, making it answer to his will, he began using his newfound powers. Each time he felt how the dark side surged around him, answering his call and then he commanded it to do his will. He saw the dagger or stone take form in his mind and he saw where it lay in the room. Khameir then sent tendrils of the Force out to it, lifting it and bringing it to his hand. Soon Khameir’s mind was powerful enough to let ceremonial swords fly through the training room into his waiting hand and he grinned broadly at Lord Sidious, proud of his achievements. But the smile disappeared quickly from his face when his Master lashed out with the dark side and threw his small body across the room.

“You let down your guard! Do you think you have already mastered the Force? Don’t ever lose your concentration again. You must reach out with the dark side and sense everything in the room, not seeing it. You must foresee my intentions and react to them before I can execute them. Now, on your feet and do it again!” Lord Sidious growled.

The boy stood up and bowed. “Yes, my Master,” he said, trying not to rub his ribs where he hit the floor. And he concentrated, locking out every thought, concentrating on the Force and feeling everything in the training room. He felt it vibrate and in a way talk to him. He was aware of its nature and it felt as if he could see the essence - and even the molecules of every object. Khameir concentrated on taking hold of those molecules and let his mind pick them up and move them. It was only after years of training, in which Khameir became stronger and more powerful, able to move things larger and heavier than himself, that Lord Sidious was satisfied that his apprentice’s mind-powers were what he expected, second only to his own.

To educate his apprentice, Lord Sidious always brought the best tutors from all over the galaxy to his home. As the wise, knowledgeable Governor Palpatine, the Sith stood in high regard with most famous schools and universities in the Galaxy, and it was considered an honour for most teachers to be chosen to teach the Governor’s young apprentice. After all, the Governor would soon be elected Senator and move to Coruscant, no one had any doubts about that, and afterwards…well…one never knew what advantages it would bring to have been a tutor in the service of the esteemed Governor. There were different teachers for languages, mathematics, physics, computer technology and even an instructor to teach Khameir to fly any type of spacecraft. Even the possibility of engine failure was considered, so Khameir also learned to take apart an engine and put it together again. Nothing was left to chance in his education.

Lord Sidious taught the most important lessons himself. Every day he summoned Khameir to his private quarters where he versed his apprentice in the history of the glorious Order of the Sith. Every secret was disclosed to the young man, who eagerly absorbed every word his Master said. The mystical battle of Lord Exar Kun, greatest of all Sith Lords, his rise to power after he defeated his Jedi Master. How Lord Exar began the reign of the Sith and how those years were the most glorious. Khameir desired nothing more than to know this power. He would be the greatest Sith Lord and he would be the one to destroy the last Jedi. Khameir would be the one to stand beside his Master and gloat as the Jedi Temple lay before them in ruins. Maybe he could even… But before that thought filled his mind, he pushed it back, shielding it from his Master. No, not yet…but in time… Night after night Khameir sat cross-legged on the floor, listening to Lord Sidious explaining how to summon the dark side and draw it around him like a cloak. And Khameir felt its strength increase every day. He sensed the strong tendrils of the dark side whirl around him, almost physically touching him with a tingling feel of electricity and his heart beat wildly. He craved for this power, he wanted to feel it around him and inside him and he drew strength from it more and more. The years passed and the child grew up with fine lines of hardship and fierceness already etched on his young face.

*****

Then Governor Palpatine became Senator Palpatine and this meant moving to luxurious apartments on Coruscant, the heart of the galaxy. There, Lord Sidious created his secret base, his Sith Palace, from where the domination of the galaxy by the Sith would begin. Khameir, in his teens now, travelled with him on the luxury liner and his eyes glowed a deep golden when he caught his first glimpse of Coruscant with its towering skyscrapers and endless traffic lanes overhead. At that moment he knew that he wanted to dominate this capital, this galaxy; he would train even harder, learn even more and then…in the ages to come, the name of Khameir Sarin would strike fear into the heart of all beings. He would be the greatest Sith Lord ever; all other Sith would fade next to him. Khameir knew well to hide this thoughts from his Master and the smile that touched his lips for only a fleeting moment was seen by no one.

On Coruscant, Khameir learned how to use Force-energy to cloak himself and become invisible to other beings. It had been a dark pleasure the first time he moved his hands as if to bathe himself in the dark side and feel it come to rest on his shoulders, a dark veil that hid him. Lord Sidious had sent him to a tavern in the lower regions of Coruscant where he knew a group of cutthroats had their daily dose of alcohol and drugs. One of them, a tall inhabitant of Sluis Van had insulted Lord Sidious in his role as Senator. The man had been making a nuisance of himself at the bazaar, when Palpatine passed on his way to an antique shop where he hoped to add to his collection of Servan glass. The man from Sluis Van was drunk and liquid from a half-empty bottle soaked his long coat. He bumped into Palpatine and the rest of the bottle stained his coat a deep purple. The senator wanted to pass, but the stained coat followed him, yelling profanities at the top of his lungs. The senator had merely raised his eyebrow and walked on, but as he chose an exquisite piece of glass for his collection, he wondered if punishment for this useless being would not be a good test for his apprentice.

Thus Khameir Sarin was sent to the bar to find a tall man from Sluis Van with a scar over the empty socket of his right eye and destroy him. He entered the bar, where a wall of stale air, heavy with sweat and stale liquor attacked his senses. No one seemed to notice the dark young man clad in black robes as he gracefully made his way through the room and merged into a shadowy corner. Only a long-legged houri in a gaudy, flimsy dress eyed him, but as Khameir sensed her interest reach out to him, he made an almost imperceptible move with his left hand, and the woman readdressed her attentions to the men at the counter.

The person Khameir was observing spent a long time drinking and gaming at one of the rickety, dirty tables, every now and then uttering a raw cry when one of the houris passed by. Finally he had enough, got to his feet shakily and went to the door, gesturing to his comrades as he left. The Sith apprentice followed him out, moving silently and with the grace of a young panther, suddenly appeared before his victim and threw off his disguise. The man wiped his wet lips with a dirty sleeve and growled, sending a blast of alcohol-soaked breath into Khameir’s direction, but the appearance of his attacker sobered him. The young Zabrak let the Force aid him as every muscle in his body flexed and he leaped into the air, relishing the invisible power as it lifted him high over the man’s head and one slash from his deadly, sharp Sith sword killed his victim. Khameir bared his teeth in a short moment of triumph and power. It had been so easy, he had completed his Master’s test to satisfaction. The dark side made his blood boil, coursing through his veins with every heartbeat. This was the power he had been craving, this mastery, feeding on the fear of others beings – inferior beings - using it to strengthen him. Young Khameir was ready to become a Sith.

*****

What the young Sith apprentice enjoyed most of all were the lessons in martial arts his Master gave him. He began each day with a rigorous routine of stretching, power lifting and gymnastics, which transformed Khameir from a very tall and very slim youngster, into a strong and well muscled young man. He was almost two meters tall, yet he moved with the grace and the stealth of a panther. Now, his heartbeat and breathing would hardly be faster than normal after his warming up and he felt an elation deep inside of him. He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply and let the dark side surround him, he stretched out his arms and brought his hands slowly down to his stomach, centering the energy in his body. Again and again he drew in the Force, until it permeated every fibre of his being. Slowly he opened his eyes. He was ready to meet his Master.

Then Lord Sidious stepped into the dohyo with his apprentice, his upper body bare, showing his mighty physique. No one who knew the soft, gentle senator Palpatine would ever suspect he mastered any known combat technique, as well as those known only to the Order of the Sith. For hours on end the Sith Master would train his young apprentice, teaching him a myriad of different lunges, evasive manoeuvres, as well as offensive and defensive combat skills. Lord Sidious taught Khameir how to use the dark side to assist him in making enormous leaps and run faster than the wind. The Sith Master struck out, fast as lightning, hitting Khameir in the stomach, the ribs, or even the face, no matter how fast the young man was, Lord Sidious mastered him. It would take many more years of daily practise before Khameir would parry Lord Sidious’s blows and strike his Master in turn. These never ceasing exercises caused Khameir Sarin to break many bones in his body. Of course the meddroids mended the broken bones using bone-fusers, but pain became a constant companion.

“Use the pain, my young apprentice, let it become pleasure!” His Master’s harsh voice told him and Khameir used the pain, felt it sear through his body and become almost pleasure.

Always unexpected, Lord Sidious would test his apprentice, taking him on long trips to planets with burning hot deserts, or razor-sharp high mountains and always Khameir had to prove that he could master the terrain, usually without food and water, or even a weapon. Yet Khameir always returned to his Master, exhausted, sometimes wounded, and always emaciated from his ordeal, but his resolve to be worthy to become a Sith ever stronger.

“I would kill for a sip of water.” How many times had Khameir thought that as he struggled through harsh landscapes, where sharp thorns tore at his body, or at night he huddled shivering under a small bush, fighting to keep warm as he rested for a few hours.

By the time Khameir Sarin was eighteen years old, he was fluent in all the major languages of the Galaxy, he was an expert pilot, a brilliant fighter and an artist. He knew all there was to know about science and if necessary he could take apart and reassemble the ion engine of any type of spacecraft. Had he not been the apprentice of Lord Sidious, Khameir would have become a brilliant scholar, famous for his wisdom in the entire galaxy, for his quick mind absorbed knowledge wherever he could find it, either in the Sith library, or from the teachings given by his Master.

Khameir now had the powerful body of a warrior and his voice was deep, low and a little breathy. He moved with such grace, that many girls on Coruscant cast their eyes on his black-robed figure as he passed by at senator Palpatine’s side. But he had that which his Master desired most of all, the deadly determination needed to become a Sith Lord. He longed to be a Sith, he wanted to serve his Master, but most of all he desired power. The power to rule the Galaxy and make every being living in it aware of the dark side. He would be the one to defeat the Jedi Order and the softness they preached and he would establish Sith rule forever.

What surprised Lord Sidious about his apprentice were his artistic skills. When Khameir was still a young boy, the Sith Lord had walked into his schoolroom one day unexpectedly and found him busy creating a small sculpture of clay. It was an abstract of such delicate and graceful lines that Lord Sidious looked on in admiration for a few minutes as the long slender fingers of his apprentice moulded the reddish material before he made his presence known to his apprentice. Khameir immediately knelt before his Master and bowed his head in humility. He was not sure what his Master would say about his wasting time on drawing and sculpting and he expected punishment to come. To his surprise, Lord Sidious made a sound of approval as he touched the sculpture. “Very good, my young apprentice. Continue your sculpting. And while you do it, let the dark side flow through you and guide your hands. In time you will create artifacts impregnated with the dark side and they will hold special powers.”

“Yes, my Master,” Khameir answered softly and watched as his Master turned and quickly left the room again.

Over the years, Khameir Sarin learned to accept pain, even became accustomed to it. Since Lord Sidious took up his training as a small child, Khameir had been submitted to harsh treatment, trials and sometimes even torture by his Master. It made him learn quickly not to cry or show any sign of pain or fear. When his Master beat him or inflicted pain, Khameir stood before him without flinching. And as soon as the punishment ended, he knelt before his Master and thanked him for the lessons. Those were the times when he could still kneel. There were many times when Lord Sidious’s hands lashed out his blue energy bolts and the pain burned through Khameir’s body until he lost consciousness and servants had to take him back to the sleeping-mat in his small cell-like room.

There were many more ways of exquisite torture Lord Sidious put him through in order to kill any emotion or fear in him. To test his alertness the Sith Master would suddenly appear in Khameir’s cell where he slept on his sleeping-mat and burn him with the tip of his purple lightsaber-blade. Khameir had screamed the first time Lord Sidious woke him from exhausted sleep and put him through this punishment, but quickly learned to remain absolutely passive and kneel in front of his Master, thanking him for another lesson in alertness. Soon Khameir learned to sleep fully alert and when his Master surprised him during the night, Khameir would be ready to deflect the blow from Lord Sidious’s lightsaber.

Yet not even Lord Sidious was able to break the young Zabrak completely. Maul kept his sense of honour and nobility. Oh yes, he would kill if his Master so ordered, even die for him, it was his duty as he was totally devoted to serving Lord Sidious loyally as a Sith apprentice. But inside his dark heart he kept his proud Zabrak warrior’s honour. Only once when he was about fourteen, had he seen another like himself on Coruscant, and he had followed the dark-skinned, tall male who stepped off a spaceliner and made his way to the hall of the broadcasting house. Khameir realised his Master would be displeased if he spoke to another Zabrak, so he covered his head with the hood of his short dark-grey cloak and watched the Zabrak with his ten proud horns crowning his head and a narrow, swirling tattoo in red adorning the right side of his face. The tall figure disappeared into the building and was lost to Khameir’s sight in the large crowd inside the hall. He made his way back to the Senator’s apartments and buried himself in his studies again. By now, the young Sith apprentice knew everything there was to know about Iridonia and his people, about their traditions and the belief that every warrior became a God when he died. He read about the Goddess of Iridonia, Nimith, a true Sith Lord Herself and he knew he had not been chosen by chance, he, Khameir Sarin of Iridonia, would follow in the footsteps of Nimith and once he held absolute power, he would establish the new Sith Order, he felt it as his birthright, his destiny.

*****

Lord Sidious finally deemed his apprentice worthy to become a Sith Lord when Khameir was twenty years old. Khameir had just finished yet another trial in which he had nearly died. He had to survive on a very unforgiving planet for a month, surrounded by droids programmed to destroy him. As his body was about to give up from lack of food, water and rest, Lord Sidious faced his apprentice himself, his lightsaber burning brightly. He had told Khameir that their was another apprentice being trained, since he, Khameir, was unworthy to become a Sith. He had felt rage surge through his body and with a raw cry he had attacked his Master with a hate and violence he had never before experienced in his life. Lord Sidious forced him back – and with such ease – and as he stood with his back against a rock wall, awaiting death, the Sith Master smiled. There had been no other apprentice and Khameir had passed his final test, through total rage and hatred, the dark side of the Force had taken his heart and his soul and made him the dark, ruthless warrior Lord Sidious wanted.

The sleek spaceship belonging to Lord Sidious had brought them back to Coruscant, where Khameir had been given his new quarters, a large living-room and a smaller bedroom, which Lord Sidious told him he could decorate any way he desired it. When the Sith Lord left him, Khameir fell on the large bed, his first luxury ever in life, and slept. Meddroids took care of his wounded, exhausted body and within a few days he was back to his former strength and resumed his training schedule. As he returned from the training-rooms late one day, two weeks after his final test, Lord Sidious summoned him and Khameir hurriedly changed from his loose training-pants into black pants and tunic. He made his way to the large study of his Master and knelt before him.

“You have performed well, my young apprentice, you shall receive your reward tonight. Go and meditate to prepare for your initiation,” Lord Sidious said and dismissed Khameir.

The young apprentice felt his heart race wildly with anticipation as he left his Master’s presence and for the next nine days and nights Khameir Sarin sat in a meditative pose in front of a blazing fire in a small stone room by the Sith Temple. He stayed perfectly still, going without food, water and sleep, his eyes closed in deep meditation. Had he fallen asleep at any time he would have fallen into the fire and been seriously wounded, but Khameir was now so powerful that he passed the test of cleansing and endurance with brilliance.

The dark side whirled around him in ever tighter circles, showing him dark images of power over every living creature in the galaxy and even the Zabrak Gods surrounded him in his dark determination, their images fierce and strong, their ritually carved swords drawn as they stood guard over him.

At times the heat from the flames became almost unbearable and sweat poured off Khameir’s body, but he let the ordeal steel him, using the pain to strengthen him. He shielded his body against the flames as he leaned even closer to them, his face a stony mask as he used the dark side to deflect the heat. His black skin did not blister, not even an eyelash was burnt, he raised the Force as a impenetrable wall between him and the fire.

Khameir’s body was cleansed in the ritual bath in a room beside the Sith Temple. It was a large basin of black marble, sunken into the floor of the room. The water in it could be mixed with a few drops of water from the sacred wells on Korriban, which Lord Sidious brought from one of his journeys to the planet where the ancient Sith burial chambers were. As soon as he let himself sink into the water, he felt it cling to him, as if it wanted to devour him. At first it had seemed pleasantly warm, now it turned icy cold as it dragged him under. Khameir’s heart thumped as the water turned black. He wanted to keep his eyes open, but he could discern nothing, all he sensed was the water pressing down on his body, and he became heavier and heavier. His lungs felt like bursting and a moment later his back hit the marble floor of the basin. He heard sounds in the water, almost like voices and it was as if something touched his naked skin. Then, just as he thought he had done all this: trained and worked for all those years to become a Sith, he was to die here in this pool, he had a sensation of being lifted off the bottom and floated to the surface. With a loud gasp Khameir sucked air into his lungs and swam to the steps leading from the basin. The dark side of the Force had held him, tested him and let him go. He was ready now! He dried his body, dressed in his black uniform and joined his Master in the Temple.

After nine days of fasting and meditating and he was to be initiated. As he slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes he felt how the blood pumped through his veins with a new strength. His heart was dark and filled with anger and hatred. “Jedi beware! The Sith have risen again and we shall bring about your total annihilation.”

As Khameir rose to his feet he showed no sign of fatigue or stiffness after his long meditation. He stretched his agile body sensuously and went to his quarters to shower and put on his black warrior’s robes. Then it was time to join his Master, who awaited him in his quarters. Khameir knelt before him and Lord Sidious put his hands on Khameir’s head, invading his mind to see if his apprentice was indeed ready and worthy. The Sith Lord met the darkness he had expected as well as the profound determination of his apprentice to serve and in time, rule as Sith Lord.

“Yes, my young apprentice, it is time. Come,” Lord Sidious said and preceded Khameir to the Sith Temple.

As always the atmosphere inside the Temple was dark and menacing. Only two black candles were burning, casting long, dancing shadows on the shiny black walls with their intricate Sith carvings. The ceiling was high, too high in fact to see in the dim light of the candles, only an occasional glitter reflected off the shiny black stone. The room itself was large, the only decorations were the Sith hieroglyphs on the walls and a low bench in front of the obsidian altar. Lord Sidious went before the altar and lit some incense, its scent penetrating and strong. As he lit the incense, the Sith Master began the age-old Sith Chant of Initiation, with long, deep sounds. His hands waved incense over his head and body. Then he turned around, facing Khameir Sarin who knelt at his feet, his head bowed low.

“Take off your tunic,” Lord Sidious ordered and when his apprentice bared his upper body he took his lightsaber from his belt and activated it.

The glowing, purple light lit up the dark Temple as Lord Sidious lowered it until it touched Khameir’s left shoulder. It was lifted and descended again on his right shoulder. The smell of scorched flesh filled the room and two deep burns showed on Khameir’s black skin. However, he did not flinch, nor make a sound. He looked into his Master’s eyes without blinking as he knelt motionless before him. The Sith Master deactivated his lightsaber and clipped it on his belt, he let both hands hover over the head of his apprentice, giving Khameir a dark benediction.

“Khameir Sarin, all the ancient Sith Lords are present here tonight to accept you into their ranks. You have been found worthy to become part of the Sith Order and from now on you will devote yourself to the Order with all that is in you. You will discard all emotions, you will obey your Master at all times and you will not rest until the Sith have achieved the ultimate goal, destruction of the Jedi Order and control over the Galaxy.”

Khameir closed his eyes, breathing in the incense deeply and when he opened his eyes again, he saw all the Sith Lords he had seen images of in the Sith annals gathered around the altar. Exar Kun was there, standing in the middle of the group and there was Darth Bane, they were all there, their fierce faces watching him. He groaned softly deep inside his throat, the dark side of the Force held him in its grip, it was hard to breathe, even harder to think, all he knew and saw were the transparent images of the Sith Lords as they circled the altar and himself, making surreal patterns as they passed through the incense. Khameir knew the hands of his Master did not touch him, yet it felt as if they were a tight helmet, holding his head immobile. He took a sharp intake of breath as the Sith Master lowered his hands and turned to the altar. He took one of the black candles and let the hot wax drip on the burn on Khameir’s left shoulder, he took the other candle and repeated the ritual on his apprentice’s right shoulder. The pain burned through Khameir’s shoulders and a thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead, but still he remained motionless. The pain became an exquisite pleasure, burning with fiery tongues over his skin, it touched his chest, his back, his sides, even his genitals and legs, although he had only taken off his tunics. He groaned again, his head falling slightly back as his body reacted with almost sexual excitement. As quickly as it had begun, the emotion faded and was gone and Khameir felt a shiver going down his spine.

Lord Sidious had activated his lightsaber again and held it one inch away from Khameir’s throat.

“Before all the Sith Lords present, will you, Khameir Sarin, vow to achieve Sith dominance or die trying? If you decline, you die at my hands here and now. Speak truthfully: what is your answer?” Lord Sidious asked.

“I pledge my life to the Sith Order. I vow to achieve Sith dominance, the destruction of the Jedi Order, or die trying,” Khameir answered, his breathy voice proud and determined.

One by one the Sith Lords approached him and as they stood before him, each in turn touched Lord Sidious’s lightsaber with their ghostly hands and as they did so, Khameir felt their dark powers flow through the beam into his soul. His head was filled with all the energy and presence of the Sith and he could not suppress a soft groan at the back of his throat. The dark side surged around him and he felt it touch every inch of his body, making his skin tingle. Lord Sidious deactivated his lightsaber and clipped it back on his belt, the Sith Lords stood in a circle around them and they all raised their hands over Khameir Sarin. The Sith Master closed his eyes and put his hands on Khameir’s shoulders, pressing down. For a moment the pain of the burns increased and then suddenly it was gone. And when Lord Sidious took his hands away, the wounds were gone and Khameir’s skin was as smooth as before.

“You have been accepted into the Order of the Sith. From now on you shall be known as Darth Maul, Dark Lord of the Sith. Rise my young apprentice,” Lord Sidious droned.

The newly initiated Sith Lord rose gracefully to his feet and when he looked up, the Sith Lords were gone and the Temple was empty, save for Lord Sidious and himself.

“Lord Maul, I know it is your wish to have the ritual tattoos of the Zabrak. I have arranged for an artist to apply them. He will use the traditional patterns and do the tattooing in the ritual way. Come to the Temple in the morning and we shall begin.” With a short nod Lord Sidious dismissed Maul, who went to his quarters to meditate in preparation for the next days.

*****

Those days had in fact been very painful, yet remained a proud memory for the rest of his life. Lord Maul entered the Temple early the morning after his initiation, where he was met by Lord Sidious and a middle-aged man of small stature, who bowed deeply as Maul stepped up to him. After Maul knelt and greeted his Master, Lord Sidious told him to undress and lay down on the low obsidian bench in front of the altar.

“Let the ritual begin,” he ordered in a cold voice and stepped back into the shadows of the room.

The artist took his tools and started the tattooing in the old ritual way of the Zabrak. He used a sharp needle and a stone to hammer the red patterns into Maul’s skin, but instead of creating a shape by using the red dye, Maul’s black skin formed the patterns, so when a tattoo was finished it looked as if the tattoo was done in black instead of red. Lord Maul underwent the ritual tattooing in the constant presence of his Master for nine days, eight hours every day and at the end of that period almost his entire body was covered in swirling patterns. By then, his face and body were swollen beyond recognition after the tattooing. Lying down on his sleeping-mat or indeed sleeping at all was impossible due to the swellings and because some of the tattoos had become inflamed, they caused him agony. Maul knew the ancient Zabrak chants, that all warriors sang during their trials and the Sith Temple echoed with the deep, metallic throat-singing of Iridonia.

But on the last day the most painful tattoos would be done and Lord Sidious would be the one doing them. The Sith Master took the needle and the stone and began creating a pattern on Maul’s manhood. As the needle went into his most sensitive flesh, sweat poured off Maul’s body in rivulets and he clenched his fists. Again and again the needle entered his tender skin as the shape Maul had on his nose also appeared on his member. Lord Maul’s breathing was very fast and came almost in soft groans, yet he did not wince in pain, nor try to fight off his Master as he worked on his delicate flesh. It seemed to take an eternity before Lord Sidious finished the tattoo, but finally he let go of Maul’s manhood and gestured him to rise from the altar.

With his head reeling, Maul rose to his feet and bowed to his Master. “I am honoured, my Master, that it was you who made the final tattoo,” he said softly.

“You behaviour was most worthy, my young apprentice. You may dress and go to your room to let the tattoos set,” Lord Sidious said and watched with satisfaction as Lord Maul put on his pants and tunics before leaving the Temple.

As soon as Maul was in the sanctity of his tiny room, he threw off the clothes that were chafing his swollen body and carefully lay down on his sleeping-mat. He reached out to the dark side and drew it in. As he felt it flow through his body, he used it to control the pain, willing it to become part of him and give him strength. For days he drifted feverishly between waking and sleeping, his body burning, but when his Master sent for him a week later, the tremendous healing powers of the Sith had regenerated Maul’s body and he stood before Lord Sidious, proudly showing the fearsome, swirling patterns of his Zabrak heritage.

---

Feedback: Please! gathekarma@hotmail.com