Dark Matter: Episode 1

"The rest are fine," Vaux'avh snapped. The Sith had looked so vibrant and alluring while dancing, but much of that liveliness had been drained by one wound or another. She was pale, cheeks sunken. The wounds would have killed anyone not Force-sensitive. She picked up her blood-soaked shirt and sighed. "This is ruined. Do you... um..."

Sheefa walked back to her cabin, returning a minute later with a spare robe. Vaux'avh shrugged into it slowly, wincing despite her best attempts to maintain a straight face. It seemed like she knew she'd failed, and her flat expression took on more of a glower.

"Sorry," Sheefa said. The two of them were built differently. Where Vaux'avh was curvy, Sheefa carried dense muscle, but the fit at the end was analogous.

"I suspect I'll have much bigger concerns soon." The Sith leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees with her booted feet dangling above the floor, and stared down hard at the deck plating. "I know I have no right to ask, but... will you speak for me?"

"Of course," Sheefa said. "They'll hear every word, exactly as it happened."

"No, I mean..." She narrowed her eyes, pensively. "Will you tell them... that I helped you?"

"Every word," Sheefa repeated, "exactly as it happened. About your role in the chaos, and your indifference to it."

Vaux'avh cringed. There was sweat across her brow.

"Initially. About what you told me of your upbringing. And about saving my life."

"Thank you," she croaked.

"Several times."

Vaux'avh merely nodded, and crossed her arms tightly around herself. "I've done terrible things, Soriel." Her eyes unfocused, staring far below the deck. "Awful things, and always it... it felt like there was no choice."

"I promise you will be given a fair hearing," Sheefa said, stepping closer and laying her hand on the older Mirialan's shoulder. "I promise."

"I've killed so many," she whispered.

Sheefa peered at her. This admission was accompanied by a hunted look, and a shivering. She pressed her hand to Vaux'avh's forehead, heedless, and knew the infection was getting worse. She guided the older woman onto her back, dimmed the lights, and drew a heavy blanket over her.

***

Vaux'avh groaned as the lights came on, and threw her arm over her head. "How long was I out?"

"Fifteen hours," Sheefa said, as she entered the room, gathered some materials and carried them over. "We still have over two days before we arrive."

The Sith nodded, and groaned as she sat up and pulled the robe open to stare down at her side. This time she made no attempt to cover herself, exposing her full breasts to the younger woman. Sheefa blushed and tried to focus on her work, but the bandages and the placement of the wound were such that Vaux'avh's left breast was in her face.

"Your color is returning." Sheefa looked up at her for a moment, taking a quick measure of the Sith's face. "You still look exhausted, but I think the fever is gone."

"It's been a long time since sickness was a concern for me."

"Just because we're a bit more resilient doesn't mean a new infection type might not be strong enough to take us down for a bit. Every new world is its own specimen dish of concern."

Vaux'avh grunted, and then grunted again as Sheefa unwound the outer bandage. Sheefa's skill with triage was strong. It was something she'd dedicated herself to once she'd exhausted her abilities to use the Force for such tasks, but her stomach had never had the same determination as her will.

The Sith looked around, eyes a little unfocused still. "A Kolto tank would be much better for this."

Sheefa shook her head, unphased. "This is all I have."

"My ship had a tank," she said, a touch judgmentally. Sheefa felt like the Sith was staring a hole through her head. "Still won't tell me where we're going?"

"The homeworld of the Jedi is a guarded secret." She carefully pulled back the bandages and tilted her head back and forth, trying to get the best view she could of the wound. The bandage peeled away from the skin, wet and sticky, and the wound below was not yet mended. Decidedly less inflamed, perhaps, but still bloody and raw. Her forehead brushed against Vaux'avh's nipple. "Sorry," she said, blushing.

"How is it?"

"It looks like the infection is clearing."

"I meant the nipple," Vaux'avh said with a smirk, and after a pause added, "but... good."

Sheefa nodded, cheeks still full of color, and dipped another bandage in the small container of Kolto. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," the Sith answered tacitly. Sheefa stood upright, and as soon as she did, Vaux'avh leaned forward into the space between them and kissed her softly on the lips. Confusion, more than revulsion or fear, kept her still and unperturbed, and after a moment, the Sith pulled back with an embarrassed blush. "I'm sorry."

Sheefa smiled smoothly, having quietly compartmentalized the previous few seconds. The urge to ask why was there, but she felt that no good could come from exploring that while the Sith was still so weak, and at her mercy. "I'm going to ask you some questions now."

The Sith barely flinched as she applied wet cloth to wound.

"Is that alright?"

"If I said no, would that stop you?"

Sheefa slowed, and gave Vaux'avh a level stare.

"Ask your questions," Vaux'avh said dismissively.

"What interest does the Sith Empire have in conflict on Dur'Shist?"

""There is..." Vaux'avh took a deep breath, and hissed when expanding her ribs brought acute pain. "There is always interest in denying the Republic what it seeks, if for no better reason than to deny the Republic what it seeks."

"Then why not send an ambassador of their own instead of an assassin?"

The Sith scowled. "First of all, I am not an assassin. Disease is not an assassin, although it takes lives."

Sheefa smirked as she looped the bandage around Vaux'avh's torso, taking care to work around the injured woman's breasts. "So you are a disease then?"

Vaux'avh rolled her eyes. "My point was that any Sith is capable of killing as I did. I happened to be conveniently located when the Dark Council decided that action was needed."

"So you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and only following orders."

"Yes," the older woman growled.

Sheefa finished the bandaging with an adhesive, and tried to inspect her work without staring at the other woman's breasts. "Does that summation upset you?"

"I am not a victim of circumstances," she snarled, sitting upright. "I am a Lord of the Sith."

Sheefa nodded and poked the wound, causing Vaux'avh to yelp in pain and double on herself. "It appears that you are also flesh and bone."

"That hurt!"

"A little humility seemed appropriate."

Vaux'avh stared back at her angrily, but made no move to retaliate.

"So, not an assassin."

Vaux'avh nodded.

"Who is your Master?"

"Darth Nazaya," Vaux'avh answered, with a slight tremble. "Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge."

"Ancient knowledge." Sheefa nodded consideringly. "So as her Apprentice, you are a... what. Relic hunter? A procurer?"

"That's putting it simply," the Sith said, frustratedly, "but yes."

"I did not mean to impune," Sheefa said, while trying to keep eye contact. Every time the Sith moved, it caused her breasts to sway distractingly. "I'm just putting pieces together."

"Secondly," Vaux'avh grumbled, "heavy gravity on a planet that small means heavy metals. It doesn't even matter which in particular. They're all rare enough to be coveted when found."

"And the Empire would do... what... with the E'lon?"

The older woman shrugged exhaustedly. "Any number of things, up to and including genocide, as long as it wouldn't threaten the deposits. Obviously, the preferable solutions lack bloodshed so they might start with a quarantine, but neither would they shy away from it if they were confident in the cost at the end."

"What would that look like?"

The Sith took a deep breath and leaned back in thought. "An orbital bombardment, for example, would require significant fleet resources, would be bad press should news of it get out, and may endanger near-surface veins. Given the proliferation of trees and wood, I think it would be much more likely for a series of fires, with 'no apparent source', to start raging across the planet in whatever passes for a dry season, endangering millions of lives. The Empire would, of course, offer its support in fighting those fires, free of charge, provided the E'lon sign a few standard, legally binding documents."

"That's despicable."

"You would be surprised how common it is. Hundreds of worlds have joined the Empire for less." Vaux'avh looked down, and braced herself on her knees. "I'm tired. Can we continue this later?"

"Of course."

Vaux'avh nodded gratefully, and laid back again.

***

Sheefa sat in her berth, legs folded in front of her, and thought. The Sith had kissed her. She would save Vaux'avh's life. The Jedi did not kill prisoners. It was possible that this pressing of lips was a more innocuous tradition among her people...

...their people, and she just didn't know it...

...but it hadn't felt like that. It had felt like a kiss. It had looked like Vaux'avh had let herself be vulnerable. These were important cards in her deck. Would Toberin accept more support for their cause? Our rebellion of two, he often called it. It seemed entirely possible. More than possible.

Plausible.

She had heard other Padawans becoming overly excited, and overly invested, in the first interpretations of their Force visions, and in this the wisdom of their Masters was unanimous; the future is difficult to read. Sheefa tried to heed this, tried to temper her excitement and enthusiasm. She really felt, sometimes, like she and Toberin were on the verge of an incredible breakthrough. What other reason could there be for her to save Vaux'avh?

***

"What are you doing?" Vaux'avh demanded.

Sheefa gasped as she looked up, as much from the shock of being interrupted as the fact that Vaux'avh was topless, save for the banded wrappings around her lower ribs.

"What are you doing to my lightsaber?"

Sheefa looked back down, having completely forgotten what she'd been doing, and stammered. "I... I—"

"Were you trying to sabotage my weapon?" Pieces of it were everywhere across the table before her.

"No! No!" Sheefa said, panicking slightly. "I was very careful, I've got it all laid out, I was simply curious. I had never seen a Sith blade before."

Vaux'avh stepped across the doorway and took the hilt, minus the grip, to inspect it.

"The design is quite different. Efficient."

"I'm glad it meets your standard of approval," she snapped, carefully reassembling the disparate parts while bent over the table.

Sheefa could not help but watch the pendulous breasts move, and after several seconds, she cleared her throat in embarrassment.

"What?"

"You are..."

Vaux'avh blinked and then looked down at herself. "Oh." She ran her tongue over her lips as she looked down. "I'm sorry. I..."

"It's alright," Sheefa said.

Vaux'avh's eyes became distant as she fell back into memory. "On Boonta, this is how the... the women dressed once they were of age. Nothing above the waist." Several seconds passed in silence. "I didn't even realize. With you around, I just sort of..." She looked around, is if confused, and started back for the door.

"No," Sheefa said, sensing an opportunity. "Please. It's alright."

Vaux'avh, looking uncomfortable, sat down at the table across from the Padawan and curled on herself. Back hunched, and shoulders arched inward. One arm stretched across her front, grabbing the elbow of the other.

"Can I ask about growing up on Boonta?"

The way Vaux'avh's jaw clenched was answer enough, although it looked like the Sith was at least considering trying.

"Strike that. How about, instead, you tell me how you escaped."

The Sith looked up at her intensely, eyes burning beneath her brow. "Mother. She made it possible. She'd been trying to find a way out for me for years." Vaux'avh held her gaze, and Sheefa could not help but feel like her reactions were being measured. "The guards there were sadistic. Recruited for their cruelty, it felt like. There were rules about how much they could touch the girls but that didn't stop the occasional interaction behind closed doors, or behind the compound, or when no one was looking, or when there were"—she took a shuddering breath—" any number of thin excuses."

Sheefa nodded, quietly handing her tools and assisting in the rebuilding of the Sith blade.

"She came to my bedside in the middle of the night. I was still awake, and... maybe thirteen. She was already bruised. Paying clients could do whatever they wanted." A subtle shift from side to side, as the Sith weighed every tick. "She told me it was time. She told me I had to go. I tried to say I wouldn't leave without her, but she said that wasn't possible. Her lip was swollen... bleeding. Cheek was deep purple," she said, brushing her own cheek to mark the spot, "and she had a cut just above her eye. It was still fresh."

Vaux'avh's expressions were neutral. Distant.

"Then she stood up and walked back out, and... distracted the guards. Several of them. Simultaneously. She'd already been injured, and who was to say the client hadn't been the one to cause all that damage?"

Despite her best efforts, the Padawan's chest tightened.

"I snuck aboard the first ship I saw, and found a place to hide. Got off at a station somewhere in the Outer Rim and became a thief. Stole to survive. My days were very blurry for a while."

"Did you ever go back?"

Vaux'avh nodded, and refocused on fixing her lightsaber. "I joined up with a crew after about six months. Was with them for... I don't know. Maybe a year. Odd jobs. Some legal, some not. Our final job was the latter. Stealing a few crates from a ship, easy as can be, except the ship belonged to a Sith and he didn't think it was very fair for us to walk off with his property. He killed all of them, one by one, until it was just me left. I don't know if he could sense my... potential, but he liked that I spit in his face. Strength respects strength, he said.

"Anyway, he started to teach me. I became his Apprentice. He offered me a reward the first time I killed another... student." Again, her eyes became distant, and she made a small noise in her throat. "He took me back there. He let me kill the guards. And the owners. The ones we could find, anyway."

"Was your mother still there?"

"Yes," Vaux'avh said, her voice cracking.

"And your father was... a client?"

Vaux'avh nodded.

"I see. Was she your only family?"

Vaux'avh took a moment, breathing slowly in and out through her nose. "Mother was pregnant often. When I was little, it felt like she was pregnant constantly, but childhood memories cannot be trusted implicitly." She clipped the last piece of the grip in place on her lightsaber, and tightened the mounting bolt. "It was probably only a dozen times, all told. Some ended early at the hands of other clients... but a few she carried to term. Of those, three were stillborn, and the other did not... wasn't..."

The Padawan could not help but sob as Vaux'avh stared at the hilt in her hand.

"I don't... I think I'd like to lay down."

***

"Is this better?" Vaux'avh said, emerging from the infirmary several hours later, with one of the sheets draped around herself. "Does this meet your dress code?"

"It will do," Sheefa said with a smile.

"How long?"

"Hours yet."

"How many hours?" the Sith insisted, grimly.

"One," Sheefa said. "Maybe two."

Vaux'avh nodded and sat down. Sheefa broke off a piece of the bread in her hand and offered it.

"This will be quite a coup for you," the Sith said.

"Me?"

Vaux'avh nodded as she chewed. "It's not often Sith Lords are taken alive."

Sheefa smiled. Vaux'avh dropped a crumb, and cursed under her breath as she bent to retrieve it from the floor. The covering hung slack from her shoulders, exposing the older Mirialan's breasts again for a moment.

"It may be enough that," Sheefa said, "despite everything else, I may still pass my trial."

"You're on trial too?"

"No, my... my trial."

Vaux'avh's jaw hung slack as understanding dawned on her. "You're a Padawan?!"

"I am," Sheefa said, sitting up and asserting herself. Shoulders squared. For a moment, it looked like the Sith would make another attempt to overpower her. A sense of menace shrouded the older Mirialan briefly, but she held to her word. The worry passed.

"You are... very impressive," Vaux'avh said reluctantly. "And I don't just mean for a Padawan. I mean..." She knuckled her brow. "You are impressive."

"Thank you," Sheefa said, blushing.

In the moments that followed, Vaux'avh's face fell slowly. Her shoulders dipped, and her covering slipped a little more as she stared down at her empty hands. She flexed her fingers, and squeezed them tight into her palms. "Will they make it quick?" she asked, her voice small.

Sheefa rose, only to slide around to the other side of the table and sit down again beside the Sith. "That is not the Jedi way."

"You don't understand how much blood is on my hands," Vaux'avh said, sobbing. "You don't know what I've done."

"That is not the Jedi way."

"Stop," Vaux'avh said, tearfully belligerent.

"You won't let yourself believe that there can be redemption," Sheefa said calmly, as she put her arm around Vaux'avh's shoulder, "because you don't think you deserve it."

"I don't!"

"Everyone deserves a chance at redemption."

Vaux'avh slowly looked up and over, her shoulders huddled tightly inward. Shuddering. She opened her mouth to respond, but Sheefa cut her off, repeating,

"Everyone."

Vaux'avh looked stunned, her eyes drifting down as if eye contact was too much. She leaned in, slowly, and pressed her lips to Sheefa's, and a fountain of empathy welled up inside of the Padawan. Vaux'avh looked so vulnerable. So broken. A product of misfortune and powers beyond her control. Sheefa wanted to promise her that everything would be alright. As her head tilted slightly to the side, and her tongue met its equal, she knew.

She would protect Vaux'avh. She knew it. A moment of pure clarity, granted by the Force. This was different than before. Stronger. Their fates were entwined, and she would protect.

Vaux'avh panted into the kiss, crying and sobbing and laughing sadly. Emotions ran through her so quickly that Sheefa could not keep up. It was all she could do to match the older woman physically. They turned toward each other, hands sliding down arms. Down sides. Palms against cheeks. Fingers through hair. Vaux'avh's covering slipped from her left shoulder, falling farther and farther every few seconds.

The older woman launched herself forward, pushing the Padawan against the back of the bench, and straddled her legs. Her hands cupped Sheefa's chin, and drew her up into another long, passionate kiss. The younger Mirialan pushed back and down on the sheet, until Vaux'avh was once again uncovered above the waist, and then plied her fingers on the wide, dark areolae. Vaux'avh moaned softly into the kiss, whimpering. Still sobbing.

That moaning deepened as Sheefa brought her fingers to bear against the older woman's sex, through her pants. Vaux'avh rose up on her knees, creating a bit more space between their bodies, and easing the angle for Sheefa's hand.

So much time, over the previous few days, had been spent staring, or trying not to stare, at Vaux'avh's breasts. It was not out of jealousy, or envy, but modesty that had she averted her eyes, and that was a virtue she did not hold in high regard. The Sith's body was different from her own in a way she admired and enjoyed. And so, as Vaux'avh rose up further onto her knees, and cupped her own left breast to lift the fleshy orb to Sheefa's mouth, Sheefa felt an elation of satisfaction. A reward well earned. She stared upward as she suckled, and worked her thumb hard over the clit through the Sith's pants.