The droid's head rattled against the table as I slammed a hand down on the surface in frustration, a growl building in my throat. The Imperial technician who had been examining the memory banks jumped, startled by the sudden violence.
"Whatever the table did, I'm sure it's suitably apologetic, milord," Maklan remarked from the doorway. Next to him, Gaarurra huffed in amusement.
Where my fist had hit, the metal table had dented inward.
I slowly uncurled my hand and let a breath out before apologizing to the tech, "Sorry."
It wasn't his fault, after all. Best to assign blame where it was due. I quickly used Crucitorn as the throbbing pain in my hand soon made itself known. Glancing down at it, I saw that my pinkie finger was sitting awkwardly. I hadn't even heard the crack.
I concentrated for a moment. The skin rippled as the beginnings of a bruise faded away and the bones snapped back into place. I released my hold on Crucitorn and turned my attention back to matters at hand, ignoring the suddenly fascinated look on Maklan's face.
Unfortunately, the droid's memory core was a bust. What parts hadn't been completely fried by lightning didn't contain anything useful other than proof that the thing was the same droid that had been short-sheeting my bed for the past five months.
Examining it with the Force hadn't proven fruitful either. Either the droid had well and truly snapped…or the person that reprogrammed it didn't have contact with it long enough to leave an impression that I could track. Not that I really expected it would.
If the perpetrator had a pre-programed spike on hand, all they would have to do was have access to the droid, insert the spike for a moment, and then leave. All the work of a few seconds, at most.
Letting out a sigh that was both irritated and disgusted, I walked out of the room and into the main room of the Second Platoon's barracks. Gaarurra and Maklan parted to let me pass before falling in behind me.
Gaarurra woofed a question. While I couldn't actually understand what he was saying, I could understand the tone and guess from there.
I shook my head, "No, nothing I could use." I rubbed my throat, even though the soreness had faded hours ago, "Even though it failed, it was pretty well done. It's going to be hard to track them down."
Maklan grunted in agreement, "The one that did the reprogramming might not necessarily be the same person as the one that ordered it. Could be the saboteur. Could be whoever's got leverage on the saboteur."
I acknowledged the point with a nod. The fingers of my left hand found their way back to my throat. It was unnerving how close it came to succeeding. If Gaarurra hadn't been in the room or hadn't been woken up by the lightning or was just a few seconds too slow, I probably would have died.
Speaking of, he growled another question.
"No, I don't think it was our yellow-eyed friend," I replied, "She…She would want me to know it was her. This was too indirect for her preferences. Call it intuition."
At this point, intuition was all I had to work with.
Around us, the soldiers of the Second Platoon were scattered around the barracks. Some were playing Pazaak, others cleaning gear. I'd quickly learned that while attending the Korriban academy was considered prestigious for the Sith, getting assigned here was considered a dead end for the military and was more punishment than honor.
A soldier could spend half a decade here and never see a promotion, though they would be lucky to last that long.
After the Renning incident, the Second Platoon had been reassigned to the Academy for the time being. While I would hesitate to call Maklan and his men allies, they were a few steps higher up than my fellow acolytes. Associates of a favorable disposition that I could make use of now and again. It was good to have them nearby as they were effective eyes and ears. Like Maklan told me months ago, soldiers talk.
Several of them looked up as I passed, but I didn't stop.
However, that was about all I could rely on them for at the moment. Maklan and his men were average soldiers, not elite troopers. Even the weakest Sith could murder-blender their way through four or five soldiers on Force power alone before being put down by sheer weight of fire, more if they got creative and didn't face them head-on like idiots.
While the soldiers were useful for investigating, I'd have to handle dealing with the threat myself.
Neither Gaarurra nor I spoke as we started making our way back to the dorms.
While the most likely suspects were in my class, I had enemies outside of it as well. My little performance for Renning had driven off a lot of other acolytes from a profitable training ground and I doubted that had made me very popular with them.
Thanaton was another possibility and it would fit his MO. He wouldn't stoop to personally killing an acolyte, but he would arrange for an "accident," much like I did for Renning. That said, it was a slim possibility that he would waste the time on someone that wasn't even an apprentice yet. However, I couldn't discount him.
The former could be dealt with once I found out who they were. The latter…would just take more time and planning.
I stopped for a moment as I turned that thought over in my mind.
This was my life then, eh? Kill and kill and kill until people got it into their heads to leave me the fuck alone?
I smiled. My facial cybernetics whined lightly as gears and pistons moved to accommodate the expression.
That sounded about right. But that approach had consequences for a Sith.
I wasn't interested in power. I didn't mean power in the Force, which I was very much interested in. Rather, the kind of power that Ragnos had rambled about. The kind that came from command, from ruling.
The Emperor could keep his damn throne. But despite my wishes, I could see what was happening, this game of politics I was unwillingly playing. It all started with Gaarurra, a single possibly-steadfast ally.
I killed the looters, which ended up getting Cormun on my side. I killed Renning and the Second Platoon put their support behind me.
What was next? The entire Korriban Regiment? A dreadnought's crew? The more I killed, the more people rallied to the banner I never knew I had raised.
I started walking again.
That's alright with me. If it helped me survive…I'd take them all.
...
A few hours later, I was back out in the cave where I performed my rituals. Until this issue with the saboteur was resolved, I didn't dare use the training halls. But I still needed to train.
Lightning crackled around my hands before I let it out in a stream, which I held for several seconds before ceasing. I glanced at my fingers and found no sign of electrical burns.
My target, a stack of crates, was in much worse shape with wisps of smoke rising from its surface and rivulets of molten metal dribbling down its sides.
It was coming to me more easily now. Before, it had fought me every step of the way and I had to fight back just as hard to bend it to my will. But now, it practically jumped to do my bidding. Instead of a single bolt, a torrent of electricity now answered my call.
It had happened overnight, quite literally. Something must have been knocked loose when I hit myself with the full brunt of my own lightning while disabling my would-be assassin. Now when I reached for it, it came like a loyal hound.
A roar of pain echoed in the cave, causing me to cringe at the noise.
Speaking of loyal hounds, Gaarurra was having significantly less success than I was. I'd decided to try and teach him how to use Force Lightning as well since he didn't appear to be getting much actual instruction in the way of Force abilities. While he was useful as a brute, he'd be more useful to me if he didn't have to rely solely on his physical strength.
While he had managed to avoid completely electrocuting himself, he was doing a marvelous job of frying his own fingers. On a side note, I don't think I'll be forgetting the sight of a Wookiee with all his hair standing on end anytime soon.
He was certainly getting angrier with each failure though, so I thought it would be a good time to shelve it for now.
"Alright, let's put that on hold for a moment and give your fingers a rest," I stated.
Gaarurra growled and shot his untouched target a foul look before huffing in reluctant agreement. I could have used the traditional method of increasing proficiency with Force Lightning, but there were several downsides that I wanted no part of.
Namely that I saw how that worked out for Renning and Gaarurra seemed the type to hold a grudge. Also, I didn't want him getting too strong too quickly. The more time he had to spend on this, the more time I had to improve myself.
As I started working him through the basics of telekinesis, my datapad chimed, indicating that I'd received a message. Curious, I opened it.
The face of an older human woman appeared on the screen, gray hair pulled back into an elegant, low-hanging bun. Though the screen dyed everything blue, the red-orange glow of her eyes was still visible.
"Greetings, Acolyte Aldrex," The woman's voice was barely above a whisper, but still came across clearly, "I am Overseer Ragate.
I have heard much of you from several…mutual acquaintances and now that the terrible business with Lord Renning has been concluded, I believe that we have much to discuss."
=========================
The first book has been completed on Patreon, alongside the second book. You can visit Patreon if you want to read in Advance.
p@treon.com/Rage_moon