Bright Shadow Chapter 15

Previous Chapter:  Chapter 14 - Catalyst for Rebellion 

 Chapter 15: Disillusionment of Evil 

A night of celebrations ensued within the Imperial garrison on Voltrus Prime. Groups of blackboots and Imperial officers danced around campfires with strong beverages in their hands. Some sang songs of victory whilst others drank themselves stupid in festivity of their triumph.

Vycerant observed the party from a distance; in an armchair outside his orange tent with his own drink in hand. When beckoned by one of the younger officers, a human lad named Devrick, Vycerant smiled and shook his head. The other Imperials ignored Vycerant sitting by himself and continued their dances; another human male named Basan, an energetic member of Corso’s unit that helped bring down the Voltran brute, a Mirialan named Hyke who sat silently on the outskirts of the dancing and singing, and finally a pureblood Sith named Ambassa. A remarkable Sith Warrior, she was hounded on both her sides by two very intoxicated officers. Visually annoyed but not wishing to ruin the fun for everyone else, she excused herself from the campfire and headed back towards the warrior barracks, but not before catching Vycerant’s eye. The pureblood woman smiled to her commander and bowed her head gently as she walked on.

Vycerant was not awfully close to his unit. He knew Jerrad and Corso the best and valued them as close friends, but never really socialised with the other soldiers. With Ambassa there was merely an instinctive bond; being the only two purebloods in an entire legion made Vycerant closer to her than the average warrior under his leash. But even then, he was merely an acquaintance to her, as was the case with the rest of the warriors and imperials he led into battle.

At that moment, another female warrior caught the attention of Vycerant. This time it was someone who was vying for the young man’s attention. A nefarious and shrewd woman named Neris approached Vycerant and bowed to him before speaking.

“Lord Vycerant,” she requested of his attention. Vycerant snapped out of his gaze of the party, having not noticed her presence next to him.

“Oh, ah Neris. I didn’t see you,” Vycerant fumbled with his words.

“Lord Zhen has requested your presence in the dungeons,” she continued aloofly.

“The prisoner?” Vycerant inquired.

Neris nodded. “Zhen wishes you to be present at the interrogation. He feels you have a lot to learn from it."

With that, Neris beckoned Vycerant to follow her as she walked in the direction of Zhen’s dungeon. Vycerant followed closely, leaving the rare spectacle of Sith unity behind him.

Neris was an oddity to Vycerant. She was fiercely loyal to Zhen, almost zealously loyal. He had noticed it with many other warriors under Zhen’s personal command. He commanded it like a cult, with them taking every order he dished out to the letter. They even began calling themselves Followers of Zhen. A fitting title for the sheep-like zealots of the galaxy’s most meticulous man.

The young warrior reminded Vycerant of a mixture of Doran and Kristina. She had the cold and empty face of Doran, whilst brandishing the hair and beauty of Kristina. Even with her attractiveness, there was no glow in her eyes like Kristina had; merely an empty shell of a dogmatist. She carried her disposition like a monk, fanatical in her beliefs yet inexpressive in any feelings she had.

Approaching the dungeon, Neris gestured Vycerant to enter alone. Wasting no time, Vycerant trekked down the stairs that led into the dmily lit prison, searching for his master. The only prisoner in the entire dungeon was the eight feet tall Voltran that he and Corso’s men had captured during the invasion. However, the immense height of the creature was nullified by it being stapped down on a cold brick table, no doubt awaiting questioning from Zhen.

The moment Vycerant entered the room, Zhen himself entered with Moff Garson. Zhen, clearly in a good mood, greeted his apprentice with open arms.

“Ahh, Vycerant, you got my message. I trust Neris wasn’t… ah, chilly?” he asked.

“She’s never been one for conversations. Truth be told I only found out her name a few weeks ago,” Vycerant said with a chuckle.

“Not too surprising in all honesty,” Zhen concurred. “I trust that the minions are enjoying their time off?”

“Most of them are,” Vycerant said. “Lets just say that none of them will be fit to fight for the next day or so.

“Hah, doesn’t matter now,” Zhen replied. “The planet is ours. The rest of the galaxy will shortly follow. Let them enjoy their well-earned victory. Blackboots aren’t exactly the smartest members of the army anyways. Now, let us get to the business at hand.”

Zhen led his apprentice over to the table where the Voltran was strapped down. Sensing Vycerant’s presence, the creature began to struggle against its restraints.

“I don’t think he likes you,” Zhen joked. “Here, take a look at this.”

Out of Zhen’s pocket came a small but sharp knife curved like the talons of a raven. He took the blade and cut it into the bicep of the creature, causing the creature to writhe in pain. As green blood spurted out of the creature, Zhen beckoned his apprentice to watch the wound.

Shocked, Vycerant watched the bloodied incision healed itself within a matter of seconds. The seemingly magical properties of the Voltran left Vycerant speechless as Zhen chuckled to himself as he sneered at the captured Voltran.

“How?” Vycerant said, the only words he would muster from his disbelief.

“I’m very glad you asked,” Zhen responded gleefully. “You see, I’ve been reading up on the Voltrans for many years now. The species apparently has a special link to the light-side of the force. Their affinity with the light grants them all a special healing ability. Watch again.”

Zhen cut into the Voltran’s opposite bicep, this time taking it much slower, driving the creature insane under its bonds. Zhen left the blade embedded in the insectoid’s flesh, letting the wound heal itself around the knife.

“Amazing isn’t it?” Zhen said as he watched the Voltran’s flesh rematerialize before his yellow eyes. “Incredible what the light side can do when strongly concentrated in just one being.”

“No wonder the species allied themselves with the Jedi,” remarked Vycerant, letting slip his darker side.

“Powerful as they are, Vycerant, their commitment to the light side does not make them immortal. I’m sure you saw that today during our battle,” Zhen said with a gratuitous nod to their glorious victory earlier in the day. “And as you can see, they still feel the pain.”

After saying this, Zhen took hold of the knife and ripped it out of the new flesh that had built itself around the Voltran’s arm. The creature tried desperately to hide its agony but failed and let out a blood curdling roar. Moff Garson, who had been watching in the background this whole time held in his wrinkled hands a translating device. He showed the results on the blue screen to his Lord. Vycerant could not comprehend how the unintelligible roars and noises from the Voltran translated as a language.

“So, you know what this means, monster?” Zhen said to the Voltran as he proceeded to cut the prisoner once again.

“Every”

Slice

“Single”

Slice

“Cut”

Slice

“Will”

Slice

“Heal”

Zhen thrust his curved dagger into the thigh of the creature, which released another blood curdling scream. “Which means I can keep this interrogation up for a very long time,” Zhen said with a very threatening demeanour. “Now, give me what I want. What are the coordinates and hyperspace routes to Coruscant?"

The Voltran retained his composure and simply stared up into the ceiling, refusing to answer the probing Dark Lord.

“So that’s the game we’re gonna play, now are we?” Zhen said, becoming visibly angry. “Hmm, okay. I’ll play.”

Incensed, Zhen continued to repeatedly stab the Voltran in the legs, unleashing gushes of blood as the wounds healed almost immediately.

“I guess I’ll leave you to it, my master,” Vycerant said, disturbed and intrigued at the same time.

“Oh I apologise, Vycerant,” Zhen said, stopping himself from torturing the Voltran for a brief moment. “Would you like a go?”

Vycerant’s stomach churned at the notion of torturing another living being. But he kept his composure to ensure his master did not sense his doubts. “No thank you, master,” He said shakily. “I’ll… rejoin the others if that is okay with you.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Zhen said. “I’ll send for you when I eventually get results. Because I will get results, won’t I?” he said to the Voltran, who spat insults at the Sith Lord in the native Voltran language.

Vycerant was less than halfway up the stairs when the torture began again.

*               *                  *

“He did what?” asked Kristina’s bewildered voice from the holocall in Vycerant’s tent.

The man himself stepped out of a makeshift shower, rinsed and fresh after his daunting encounter with his master earlier. The disturbing scene had left Vycerant with feelings of doubt and fear. He had to wash himself to cleanse his mind and body from the horrors he had seen in the dungeons. The afterparties of the battle continued outside his tent as the beyond-tipsy Imperials and Sith walked past the apprentice’s quarters, the more sober ones carrying their sloshed accomplices.

Vycerant had found it comforting to call upon Kristina for advice, as he had done continuously for the previous few years. The two had not see each other in person since that fateful day on Korriban, and the last few months had caused them to become more separate due to the many battles they had both been fighting. Kristina had grown into a tall and womanly Sith; her feminine features far more prominent than the last time Vycerant had seen her. Her hair had grown longer and her attire had become darker and more mature, baring a ragged cape and a black, sleeveless bodystocking.

“I know, I shouldn’t really be that surprised,” Vycerant admitted. “I mean, he’s still a Sith. What did we expect from him?”

“I know, but wasn’t he so much more than the other Dark Lords?” Kristina pondered. “Didn’t he have some level of compassion? I can’t imagine him torturing anyone. Do you think the war has, I don’t know, perhaps done something to him?”

“We’ve all changed. You most of all,” Vycerant said, sneaking in a compliment to his lost lover. “But I thought Zhen was more composed and experienced than us. I still refuse to believe that this is what Zhen truly is. He’s helped me through all the trials, gave me more compassion than I ever expected from a Lord. Now he’s torturing his prisoners and killing whole planets? It doesn’t feel right.”

Kristina looked down at her feet, feelings of worry coming over her again, just like the day she left Vycerant on Korriban. She wanted to change the subject. She couldn’t bare the amounting stress on her mind. “How is Voltrus Prime treating you?” she asked. “A paradise, no doubt.”

“Voltrus Prime is as much of a paradise as a Numenorian is truthful,” Vycerant joked, lending an addictive laughter from Kristina over the holocall. Despite the smiles from his far-away lover, the thought of Zhen still loomed heavily over him, which Kristina noticed easily.

“You need to stop troubling yourself with Zhen’s business,” she said. “If you’re not careful its gonna get you killed.”

Vycerant considered the fate Kristina had proposed to him. Would he rather die than serve the greatest evil the world has ever known? “Perhaps that’s what should happen to me,” he said, to Kristina’s astonishment. “I mean, is it better to lose with your morality in tact? Or to win with your conscious tainted by cruelty and malice?”

Before either of the two could answer the question, another woman entered the conversation; Ambassa walked into the tent haphazardly to the sight of a shirtless Vycerant.

“Oh, my lord, I’m terribly sorry,” she stammered politely.

“No, no, please come in Ambassa,” Vycerant said as the projection of Kristina looked in Ambassa’s direction. “What seems to be issue?”

“It’s lord Zhen sir… the prisoner, he…” Ambassa continued to stutter, unable to explain the horror she felt. That horror quickly infected Vycerant too. He knew what had happened. His worries had come true.

Nodding to Ambassa, he quickly threw his robes on and prepared to exit his quarters.

“We’ll speak later, alright?” he said swiftly to Kristina.

She nodded understandably. “Be safe, love,” she said before disappearing from the holoprojector.

Vycerant followed Ambassa to the dungeons where a small crowd had gathered around the entrance. Vycerant’s mind was torn between the thought of Kristina calling him “love” and the fear he felt as he approached the prisons. There were now two blackboots guarding the entrance to the prison where there were none before. They held back the increasingly curious crowd as Vycerant was exclusively granted access to the dungeons.

Taking two steps at a time, he rushed down into the dungeon and saw the torture rack the Voltran was on. A large white sheet covered the body of the prisoner, which laid lifeless on the rack. It’s green blood stained the sheet and driped onto the floor, creating a sickeningly large puddle on the cold dungeon ground. In the background were Darth Zhen and Moff Garson, both looking extremely satisfied with their work. Garson finished typing something on his pad and rushed out of the prisons, giving Vycerant an unusually friendly nod as he went by.

Vycerant’s confusion escalated as Zhen hummed to himself at his little table. In his hands were a variety of torture devices, all drenched in green oozes.

Attempting to keep himself composed and calm, Vycerant approached the scene of the torture. “Morbid,” he commented, catching the attention of his master. “Seems like he endured a lot before he broke.”

Zhen chuckled at his apprentice’s remark, sending a shiver down Vycerant’s spine. “The flesh and blood that stains these sheets deceives you, my friend,” Zhen said. “He broke only a few minutes after you left. This-” he continued, pointing at the horror that was the contorted, bloodied corpse of the Voltran, “-this was all just practice.”

The shock felt by Vycerant upon this revelation was insurmountable. “Zhen!” he exclaimed, barely being able to keep his voice down, due to his ire.

“What?” Zhen replied puerilely, like a child caught being naughty. “Just doing what needs to be done to get results. You’d have done the same if you were in my position. We may not like it but torture is an extremely effective tool. And we need to use all the tools at our disposal to win this war.”

Vycerant could barely contain his disbelief as his master walked over to him. “This doesn’t seem like the man who taught me compassion over sadism,” Vycerant said, trying to keep his eyes off the grotesque display of sadism behind his master. “What happened to using all emotions? Love and compassion?

Zhen’s thinly-lined mannerism had been breached and his attitude flipped from cheerful to dark in a matter of seconds. “The time for compassion has come and gone apprentice. Regardless of our secret mission to reform the Empire from within, we are still Sith,” he bludgeoned to his apprentice. “This is still a war. What did you think would happen here? Do you seriously think that my vision for the Empire is nothing but flowers and rainbows? I want to make the Empire a force for good as much as you do. But in our current situation, we have to blend into the Sith ranks as seamlessly as possible. I have to be as ruthless and cruel as the Sith that stands beside me, and that goes for you too. Do you have any idea what we just got from this one prisoner?”

Zhen expected his apprentice to answer, but all her received was a face of utter mistrust and anger from Vycerant. He continued anyways, “We have the coordinates for Coruscant. Garson just sent the information we have to the Dark Council. We’re going to win this war, apprentice. In less than a year, I predict. I suggest you focus on doing that. Then we can have discussions about reformation but not now.”

“I don’t believe you,” Vycerant muttered. “All these things you taught me. Half-truths. You think I will just sit back and watch this happen?”

“But you were okay with me sticking a blade into it’s arm and watching the Voltran’s own body bury the knife inside itself?” Zhen retorted. “I’m not sure if you are blind or just stupid, my very young apprentice, but that creature was in agony when you were here as well. If I’m hypocritical for taking more drastic action to end a conflict that’s already claimed millions of lives, then we are both equally guilty. At least I have the guts to do what is needed. Perhaps you would understand if you had any.”

Vycerant simply looked into the eyes of his master for a few more seconds before storming out of dungeons. He passed the snooping eyes of the men and women under his command as they burningly desired to know what had transpired in the prison.

It finally dawned on Vycerant; Zhen was willing to incur the death and suffering of millions to get his way, however benign his objective was. He was willing to endow in corruption and evil whilst masquerading as a benevolent ideologue. Vycerant’s whole worldview he spent the last few years building shattered before his very eyes.

That day something snapped in Vycerant. He went to sleep that night with the visions of a sentient creature being tortured to death by the man he looked up to. And would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Next Chapter:  Chapter 16 - Veil of Secrecy 

Copyright Jacob Burbidge 2019