Reprimar: First Step into Darkness

Introduction: This story comes from a Star Wars roleplaying forum known as The Vast Empire and details my second character’s introduction into the elite Dark Jedi division in that club. Few, if any, canon characters or places are involved.

Word Count: 3488

Serrian stopped as the door slammed behind him, the loud bang a strident emphasis on the sudden darkness. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, the heavy scents of rot and earth flooding his head and drew a picture of the room, what he’d seen of it in those brief moments, in his mind. The dimensions were quite cramped, having appeared to be about eight feet long by six feet wide and perhaps eight feet in height. In the back left corner, there lay a rough cot covered only in what had appeared to be a rather threadbare blanket. At the foot of the cot a bucket sat, contents unknown. Aside from that…a table? Yes. A table…with books on it, no less. A couple of thick flimsiplast books like he’d seen in a museum or two while on childhood school trips. He smiled to himself, ‘So. That’s where I’ll look for my answer- however strange the question may be. How would I know what the Force would be without us? I don’t even think it exists! Whatever. First, I need light. That’s the problem I need to focus on. What else is here…the ceiling was all rock, I think. No glowpanels. I’ve got to find another source of light…’ The young Zabrak closed his eyes, bringing his mental image of the room back…something stirred in his memory, something that didn’t seem quite right about the image- something missing…’There was something else on the table! Some sort of old lantern, I think.’ Serrian opened his eyes and smiled, then cautiously extended a hand and began to edge to where he remembered the table being against the right-hand wall. ‘Looks like I’m in business- I hope.’ He could hear nothing but his own soft breathing and the shuffling of his slow footsteps as he kept on, now sweeping the area before him slowly with both arms.

Three small steps later he found it. The back of his left hand smacked into the table with a thud, almost making him jump. ‘Huh. Guess I’m a little more unsettled than I thought, he mused as he grasped the wooden corner. He let go immediately, carefully wiping whatever sticky substance he’d come into contact with on his trouser leg rather than the robe before reaching out once more. He felt along cautiously until he came to the first of the books. He traced his fingers over its cover, feeling the smooth surface and following the occasional embossed line. ‘Strange, how cold this thing is. The room itself is pretty warm, but that doesn’t seem to have effected it.’ Dismissing the thought, he moved on, both hands now gliding slowly across the rough wooden surface.

There. He’d found it. His right hand touched the smooth metal of the lantern’s base and he wrapped his hand around it. Picking it up, he held it in both hands and cautiously shook it, smiling as he heard the muffled sloshing of liquid from within. He began to run his hands carefully over the contours of the old device, ever conscious that he’d be out of luck should he break it by mistake. Closing his eyes once more, he called on himself to be patient until he figured out how to operate the archaic machine in his hands. As he felt out the lamp’s features, trying to activate it, his mind wandered to the events of the last few days.

-----
Ten hours before on Daishi Station, Repair Dock F-7

After disembarking from the Cerulean for the last time, the young Zabrak had followed the other transferees toward the Personnel Command skimmer that sat on the side of the nearby speeder tunnel. Before he got there, though, a darkly dressed Human male had stopped him and handed over a datapad containing orders specifically for him. It was legit, so far as he could determine, so he’d nodded and followed the man to the personal speeder parked not too far away. He’d slid in, feeling the soft synthleather seats give a little as his weight settled on them.

They drove in complete silence for only ten minutes, which was about what Serr had expected given the size of the space station they were on. When they pulled over, the man wordlessly pointed at a nearby hatch. Serrian had saluted, but was forced to simply turn and go where indicated when the man did not respond. ‘Must be one of those weird Intelligence spooks. I wonder what he’s so uptight about?...I hope it’s not that incident on Cepany. Court martial’s not a place I want to be,’ he thought nervously.

When the hatch opened it revealed a shuttle sitting alone in a large hangar, though it wasn’t a model the Zabrak had ever seen before. He wanted to look it over, but a man in a dark brown robe approached and stopped him before he’d made it more than three steps. The man, another Human, simply looked at him for a moment, as if evaluating him, then spoke, “Get on the shuttle and strap in. Do not ask why. Do not speak to the others. Disobedience will be punished.” The man held out a white garment, folded neatly, “Put this on.”

Reprimar almost saluted the man, obviously the one he was supposed to meet here, but something held him back. The man spoke with authority, yes, but something about his manner indicated that he was not a military man- at least, not a military man in any way Rep had any experience with. Instead he only nodded, pulled the long robe on over his head, and strode up the ramp at an even pace.

Inside the shuttle there were ten or twelve seats, about half of them full already. Aware that Brown Robe had followed him onto the ship, Serr sat in one of the first empty pairs of seats he could find. He strapped in and glanced around, curious, ‘Hmm…I’m thinking the Cepany incident’s out, here. But if that’s so, I wonder what the mission is? Some of these guys don’t even look like soldiers, much less people who ought to be going on a secret mission- not that I exactly fit that bill either, eh? I think there’s more going on here than seems apparent. Why the robes, for example?’ He shook his head slowly and settled back in the seat, ‘Guess I’ll have to wait and see.’

Some hours later they landed and Brown Robe brusquely ordered all six of the white robed strangers down the shuttle’s ramp, then directed them to stand shoulder to shoulder on the tarmac. Reprimar did as he was told, but took time to examine his surroundings. The planet appeared desolate, rocky and bare with little in the way of plant life. In front of the group stood a massive complex consisting of a handful or so of sky-scraping towers surrounding an even taller peak in the center. A short path led to the near wall of the complex, winding slightly back and forth across the torn and windswept ground.

A dark figure appeared, walking down that path. It approached at a measured pace until the black robed individual, surprisingly short, came near Brown Robe. Brown Robe bowed and backed out of the figure’s way. Serrian considered the situation for a moment, but decided quickly, ‘This might not be a military operation in the usual sense…but there’s obvious rank differential here. Respect, I think, is the way to go.’ He bowed, as did some of the others.

-----

Reprimar’s concentration snapped back to the present as he felt a small knob lift under his finger. Ever so carefully, he gingerly lifted it and felt a rod beneath. Making an educated guess, the Zabrak gently pulled the knob out as far as it would go, then pushed it back in. After a couple of repetitions it got harder to cycle. ‘A pump for pressurizing it,’ he thought to himself, ‘Good.’ He completed a few more cycles of the pump’s armature, then ran his hand clockwise around the body of the device to the other knob he’d found a moment before. He twisted it experimentally, finding solid resistance against a counterclockwise rotation. Reversing it, he again met resistance- but resistance that seemed about to give. The Zabrak held his breath, tense with anticipation, and twisted the knob past the stop. The lamp clicked and Serr sighed as a small, pale flame slowly grew from it. He tried to turn it up, but to no avail.

Glancing at the deep shadows that still gathered in the corners of the room and the twilight engulfing the rest of it, he sighed and deposited the newly lit lamp on the table. He took a short pair of steps back and sat down on the cot, taking in the dark brown walls of the cell he’d not seen at all until that moment and still had no clear vision of. Somehow being able to see the cell was almost worse than fumbling around in the dark. He’d tried to operate in the dark before, mostly while exploring the local area back on Iridonia, and was relatively comfortable with that.

Being locked in a cell, on the other hand, was a completely new experience for the young man. As he looked examined the cell, he found himself desperately fighting back a surge of fear and panic that assaulted him without warning, ‘Oh, kriff…what’d I get myself into? And why did they lock me up? I didn’t do anything!...well, not much. Sithspit!...Okay, calm down, Rep. So what if this is new territory for you? You like exploring new things, right? Just don’t think about the fact that, from all appearances, they might just leave you to die here if you don’t…sithspit. Die here?’ He shook his head viciously against the thought before dropping his head into his hands, thinking once again, ‘What’d I get myself into?’

‘Good. You know fear. Now learn to harness it.’

Reprimar jerked his head back up, frantically whipping it back and forth to see who’d snuck into the room…seeing no one, he rushed to the door and began to hammer his fists against the wood as he yelled, “Who’s out there? Why am I in here?” But the door remained as stationary and solid as ever and no sound or movement made itself known from the other side. Giving up, he backed toward the wall opposite the door, “Who’s there? What do you want with me? Why am I here? And why on the Emperor’s black bones is fear so kriffing important?”

‘Yours is not to ask, but to answer. But you are closer, now, to the answer you seek.’

The young Zabrak pressed his back into the wall, eyes still scanning the room in the lamp’s paltry illumination. He could feel the rough rock through the fabric of his shirt and robe, could feel some loose particles of dirt and dust trickle down the back of his neck from where he’d dislodged them from their places upon the wall. Again he had heard a voice, but again there was no speaker. For that matter, he was sure there hadn’t been any actual sound. How could this be?

As his gaze swept down and to the left, Serrian’s eyes came to rest on three books stacked one upon the other on the end of the table set against the wall. They were a scant six inches from his left hand. ‘Answers,’ he thought, then spoke aloud, his voice rising from a conversational tone to a angry shout, “Just kriffing great. I’m imagining voices in my head! Not only that, though. Oh, no! They’ve even got a lame kriffing sense of humor!” He listened, but no reply came.

Sighing, the Zabrak shook his head. ‘Like you really thought that would accomplish something, hmm?’ He looked down at the stack of books again, then extended his left hand to run it across the cold, smooth cover of the book on top. He picked it up, surprised at its weight compared to a datapad, then stepped over to the bed and sat down. He opened it and began to read.

Several hours later Serrian closed the book and set it to one side, then scooted back so he could lean against the wall and rub his tired eyes. The lamp’s insufficient light hadn’t done much to assist in the process of reading. Despite that it had been an interesting read. But even after finishing the tome he wasn’t sure that he was any closer to answering the question that had been set before him. The book had spoken of the history of the galaxy itself- a history he’d never known about. Appropriately enough, it had definitely been an introductory book. It had outlined much from the Hundred Year Darkness to the One Sith and Darth Bane and more than a dozen other prominent periods in the history of the Dark Side of the Force. ‘But how does any of that history help me? Sure, it’s very interesting, but not so useful in describing what the Force would be without us. Hmm…but wait. There are other books here. Why could I not take what I’ve learned from this one and use it to focus my studies? That, I think, will work nicely.’

Picking up another book, the one he’d first touched in the darkness, the young Zabrak settled in to read again. He was engrossed within minutes, fascinated by the in-depth accounts of the rise and philosophy of Darth Bane. When a tray with some sort of food was shoved into the room an hour later, he paid it no mind and continued to read. Fatigue began to tug at him soon after, his eyes aching from strain, but he took no notice, so absorbed was he in the dark secrets the book revealed page by page.

Some hours later, Serrian closed the tome and set it aside. Standing, he stretched stiffly and began to pace quickly around the cell as his thoughts brought excitement, ‘What amazing power- what amazing control. I don’t think I agree with Darth Bane’s philosophy of the Rule of Two, for two can only be in so many places at once, but neither did Lord Kaan go about things correctly- his methods seemed far less effective than Bane’s. He caused far too much waste through the infighting his system incited. But the sheer control Bane exerted, how he bent the Force to his will…amazing. I’m guessing someone could use such power to conquer nations or to dominate minds, or even to alter the forces of nature or the shape and function of their own body. But without that…without that, the Force would be unfocused, undirected. To use an ancient analogy, why should you let water ebb and flow through a lake when you could build a dam and direct its flow to some useful purpose? Though, from what I’ve read, the Force does seem to have some sort of will or agenda of its own- but how could it ever exercise that without Force users? It couldn’t. That, then, is what the Force would be without us: unfocused, undirected, and meaningless. Power simply sitting there without purpose. Only through Force users it can be directed and given purpose.’

Rep continued, now speaking his thoughts as they crossed his mind, “But I need that power now, I need to be able to access the Force to control and direct it, to give it purpose. Giving the correct answer won’t be enough, not here. If what these books teach is true, and I’ve no reason to believe it’s not, then the Force is real…and in this place, where its users gather, the weakness of not being one of them is a marker for death.”

‘Now you understand, or have glimpsed true understanding.’

Whirling around, the Zabrak cast about for the source of the voice, “I’m getting tired of your petty comments, whoever you may be. Reveal yourself or leave, but do not continue to irritate me.”

The Voice returned, a menacing laugh, ‘So sure of yourself. You think, puny mortal, that in the infinitesimal understanding you have now gained, that you posses the power to threaten one such as I? Discover your folly and despair as you are conquered.’

Pain suddenly spiked through Serrian’s skull as howling voices invaded his mind. Some screamed, some whispered, but all spoke of darkness and madness and chaos. He clutched his head and staggered, then fell to his knees between the cot and table. Images of his parents being murdered in grisly and brutal ways began to spring up in his vision, the pain and confusion they brought forming a whole new assault against his struggling mind. Screaming, he toppled over to lay curled up on his side as the images and voices raced unhindered through his head.

The Voice spoke again, somehow cutting through the cacophony assaulting his senses, ‘See your weakness, mortal. Understand how powerless you truly are. Know that you meet your destiny here, forever dominated and enslaved while your form serves as mine and assists my rise to power. You are mine.’

“No!” Desperate to defend himself, Reprimar cast about blindly. If only he could find some weapon, physical or mental, with which to stave off the invading horde of thoughts. His gasp started to come in rapid pants, the dark presence pressing down so heavily on his mind that it seemed almost physical.

‘Just give up. No more fighting, no more pain. Relinquish all control and let me take over. All strife will cease for you.’

It would be so easy…so simple, letting go. To give in to the inevitable. He contemplated the possibility and suddenly the voices redoubled their assault. Suddenly he was angry, enraged that this spirit or whatever it was would seek to control him. As if it were more powerful than a living being. Again he screamed, his voice going raw with the effort of expressing his defiance, “No! Get out!” In anguish, he raked his hands down his head from the crown to his chin. Pain welled, causing him to gasp at the physical sensation suddenly competing with the mental assault. The voices quieted for a moment as the pain allowed him to focus. He cracked an eye open. In the dim, watery light of the lamp he could see blood glistening on his hands. In raking them down his face he’d torn them across his horns, opening gashes in the palms and across his fingers.

Reprimar laughed in exultation, focusing on the pain in his hands and using it to anchor his mind. The voices returned, howling in his head, but now he gained strength and strained against them. His body still twisted, wracked with pain, but he quietly whispered, “You are a fool, nameless spirit. And you shall remain nameless, for you cannot win against me. I will prove my strength, my power, and in defeating you I will prove my worth to those who brought me here. And someday…when I am ready…I will prove myself greater even than they.”

‘Even now you weaken, mortal. Give in and fulfill your destiny. Your petty words mean nothing.’

He couldn’t be sure, but Rep thought the Voice sounded nervous now. It didn’t matter, though. For he was ready to fight, all too eager to do battle with this thing that sought to control him. Strength flowed into him and he howled as he blasted back at the voice, pouring his will into defeating it, “Leave me! Go back to your grave or whatever pathetic hole you came from. Molder for all eternity.” The pressure eased off, the voice’s power being forced away as Serr felt wind stirring his hair. Opening his eyes, he saw a maelstrom whirling around him, dark energy crackling through it. It wasn’t much, not quite enough even to fill the small cell, but it was a triumph. Exultant, he stoked his ambition and drove against the Voice. He began to force its visions and the howling, whispering lesser voices it commanded back at their source. He felt its power falter as it shuddered, then dissipate with a resounding mental scream as it fled. He smiled, lips bloody from his torn hands, at the knowledge of his victory and the expectation of more to come, “Now who has the power, petty spirit?”

A moment later the door swung open and Black Robe stood before him again. The dark Force user, for that was what Reprimar could now sense he was, spoke just one word, “Well?”

The Zabrak stood quickly and bowed as blood dripped from his fingertips, then spoke, “Without us the Force would be unfocused, undirected. It would be without purpose. We are the vessels through which it can exercise its will and are also those who can control and direct it in turn.”