S E V E R / / T O C U T

     “ I’M JEDI ENOUGH TO TAKE YOU ON. ”  it appears she’s hit a nerve.  he’s trying not to rise to the bait, but–

“Ha!”

Maul had been close to leave before he heard the comment. “Be careful of the old man in the profession where men die young.” the Zabrak pointed out as the yellow eyes turned back to the two inquisitors. Not that Maul was even half as old and weak as he tried to look.

“Perhaps a certain longevity can be explained away by skill, but given your record, it’s mostly luck.” He’d spent a decent share of his life in a trash heap and she had no qualms with seeing him sent back. 

    “ who says i need to be CLEVER to stop you. ”

“Seeing as you’re underskilled.”

      No name? Well, he supposed it wasn’t entirely unusual for a servant not to have one. Individuality wasn’t something often allowed of slaves. Maul regarded her for a moment, deciding he would name her – but not yet. It was too soon. He wanted to first gauge her character and abilities before giving her a suitable moniker. Though no longer a Sith Lord, he still respected the tradition.       “Very well. You will be given a name when I see fit. Be grateful it was me who discovered you and not the Jedi.” Thieves. He inwardly grimaced at the very mention of them and while one could argue that he had thieved her from her master, Maul did not see it that way. In his mind it was something of a rescue. After all, I will make her a powerful weapon of the Shadow Collective.

      The zabrak sent one final glance towards her deceased former master and turned to leave. “Come now. Your training begins soon, young one.”

“Why?” She had no love of the Jedi, but the dislike of the once noble order seemed to ooze off of him in waves. Without a second glance, she stepped over the body of her former owner and followed after him. “At worst they’d simply leave me to him. They don’t care, they feel neither love nor hate right?”

Perhaps that wasn’t true, but in recent years she’d yet to meet anyone who thought highly of the Jedi. They were ineffective, cowardly, cruel. Stealing children in the night. They’d have no interest in her. 

     “ YOU KNOW, i don’t think that’s happening. ”

     “I recall using a less harsh word, but if the shoe fits. You need to learn respect.”

“I have respect-”

“ REVENGE ON WHAT?  ON US? ”

“No.”

      Maul regarded the mirialan with interest, pleased that she resigned herself to him and only slightly annoyed at her lack of fear. 

      “Perhaps not of the same capacity as you were a minute prior.” He said. “You are liberated of the menial duties of a slave. Instead, you will be elevated to the status of my… apprentice.” There was a hesitation before the word. He knew his brother currently held that rank and would be displeased to hear of the news. We will need time to work out the logistics.        “Things shall be different for you. Now, do you have a name? What did your master call you?”

“Apprentice...” Mumbling to herself she didn’t hide the way her eyes flickered down to the weapon he’d used to kill her master before back up at his face. She’d discovered ages ago that Jedi took students, but the man before her was no Jedi. 

Any questions she had seemed to halt, however, as she looked down at the now still body of her former owner. It was surreal to see him this way, he’d always seemed so imposing before. Her new master’s questions seemed ill-fitting, perhaps he misunderstood who she was. Without thinking she spoke, distant and quiet, as if trying to remember a life before her master. “I have no name...my master referred to me only as ‘girl’ or ‘servant’.”

      Maul had not feared the weapon raised on him; he felt her reluctance and awe all at once. Understandably, it was a lot to process and she deserved clarification.       “I sense your connection with the force. I see it in your eyes.” The blade of the darksaber receded back into the hilt as he spoke, “You have potential and it will not be wasted. I will make you greater than anything your simpleminded master could have ever dreamed.” He looked down at her blaster, inwardly noting that it will have to be swapped out for a lightsaber in the near future. But first, Maul knew he had to ascertain she understood of her new importance.       “Do you submit, slave?”

“I-” He’d beheaded her master without an ounce of hesitation and while he seemed keen to have her she didn’t doubt he’d strike her down just as fast if she pushed him. Still, this felt like her only chance for a modicum of freedom. “I submit gladly...but I’m not a slave.”

Slowly she let the blaster fall, laying limp at her side as she held eye contact with him. He didn’t have her command chip codes, he couldn’t blow her head off with the push of a button like a coward. If he struck her down for her insolence then so be it, but she’d die with a taste of freedom.

      The slave master spoke but Maul did not hear his words; a no from the devaronian was to be expected and Maul had made up his mind minutes ago.          The Zabrak came to a stop when the trader took a precautionary step towards his slave as though to shield her. All good things must come to an end. He had already began to reach for the weapon at his side but the movement stopped short when the last words left the devaronian, unwittingly bringing with them the painful memories of Maul’s past that he had tried so desperately to stifle deep within the recesses of his mind. Thieved from the arms of his mother at a young age, broken and his mind mangled until there was nothing left of him but anger and hatred, and the drive to kill.       He gripped his hands into fists, knuckles white from strain, pupils dilating with newfound rage. This slave master deserved no words from him.

      A low frequency hum filled the space between them as a blade black as the night sky erupted from the darksaber’s hilt. There was little time between the blade appearing and it making contact with the devaronian; Maul pivoted on his feet and in one fluid motion sent the blade clean through the man’s neck, cauterizing the wound as quickly as it was created. He stepped back and the head rolled off its shoulders and tumbled to the ground below.       There was silence from the zabrak. The moment lingered until he turned to the mirialan.       “You have been relieved of your loyalties to this man. I am your new master.” His calm tone contrasted the animalistic look in his eyes, darksaber in his hand still humming as though waiting for a retaliation.

Like a dream, she had seen the weapon, seen the strike before it landed. A voice in her head screaming at her to move but forced loyalties rooted her to the spot. By the time her blaster had been drawn however the still twitching corpse of her once master seemed to slump to the side with a sickening thump.

She kept the weapon trained on the now armed Zabrak, but despite the beat of time that passed them by she didn’t once move her finger to the trigger. Confused and spellbound she simply stood there, the blaster more on offer than raised in violence before she caught herself. Slowly, it lowered again before her eyes followed, looking at the red heap of flesh in front of her. “Why?”

“Lost to many inquisitors?”

Maul was aware of the protocol, he had had similar missions when he worked under Sidious’ controll. Disapeaing into nowhere and apeaing out of nowhere was something the Zabrak was known for, but that was Vader’s and Sidious’ problem. Not his. “Very well….!”

“On the contrary.”

      Like them. Those words alone were enough to send Maul’s eyes back over to the mirialan. A force-sensitive? His gaze assessed her and he finally took notice of the unnatural tinge of gold that glowed faint in her irises–a color only those corrupted by the Darkside possessed.       Maul’s demeanor took a sudden twist.       This interested him. Adding another force-sensitive to his syndicate would be a wise measure.The corners of his lips upturned slightly, eyes glinting with new purpose.         “Keep your credits. You will take the entire cargo supply in exchange for your servant.” The zabrak spoke with a resonating confidence, leaving little room for negotiation. This is how it is going to be and if the trader declined, he would certainly die. The zabrak’s eyes drew back to the valuable weapon cargo and he contemplated leaving his business partner entirely empty-handed.

“I- absolutely not. While I didn’t pay much for her I’ve invested a good deal of time into her. It will take me years to train another one up. I can give you the name of a collector if you wish to have one of your own. Consider it a bonus.” The reality of the situation seeming to settle in over the Devonarian he halted their treck, seeming to take a step back closer to his servant. 

She knew her master held no affection for her, but the reluctance to part with her was a surprise. While his back had been turned she’d stolen a peek at the cargo manifest he was set to buy. He could buy several slaves after reselling most of it. Only then did she pick up the notes of uncertainty in his mind. He didn’t wish to be disarmed. 

     A criminal with a servant wasn’t unheard of – Maul only wondered why the master allowed a slave with an attitude to carry a weapon. Perhaps there was some level of trust between the two that was not visible on the surface. Even so, Maul could sense the unease that soon came to the mirialan, the slight hand-to-blaster movement not going unnoticed in the zabrak’s peripheral. She certainly seemed more guarded than her master.       Maul tensed when the trader patted his back, the casual gesture stirring a sense of disgust and anger in him. In simple terms, he hated being touched, much less by someone he did not respect. Nevertheless, he moved over to the cargo ship with him.       “These are an amalgam of weapons used by the Separatists. E-5 Blasters, electrostaffs, Thermal detonators… Lightsabers.” He said, deciding he had no use for the collection of swords obtained from killing force-sensitives.

“Lightsabers you say?” There was an awed drop in his voice, obvious amusement at the possibility of owning one. While he had no use for Jedi he could find many uses for their weapons. Patting his thigh sharply as they walked the young Mirilan took that as her sign to follow them. 

Still tense, her frame thrumming with an undercurrent of energy, she followed the pair. For some reason, she couldn’t tear her eyes off the Zabrak. Next to her master the man seemed almost small, but a whisper in her heart told her that she should be wary all the same. Her eyes only shifted away when her master mentioned her.