boxofmisfits | So a Sith and a Chiss Walk Into the Same Warlord's Ship--

Entry tags:

So a Sith and a Chiss Walk Into the Same Warlord's Ship--

The Force was a capricious thing, if not straight up malicious.

War had broken out once more between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic and Altair had been on the front lines, working to ensure safety and stability for his people. Onderon, Mek-Sha, their assault on Corellia and the Meridian Complex, and at the end of it all, he had chosen to make his Alliance an official member of the Empire, and reclaimed his Sith title.

He had welcomed the Imperial presence on Odessen, had flown the flag of his nation where the flag of the Eternal Alliance once hung, and he had been happy. He had been home.

Then that artifact- he had been working on a tip Lana had gotten through her contacts, that there was an artifact that would serve Altair and the Sith Empire well.

It hadn't been a trap. Only the Force working in mysterious ways.

For a while after he'd been dragged to the future, he'd seethed. He'd lost his home, his title once more, and worse than that, he would never get to see his loved ones ever again. Not the people of the Alliance, nor Lana, nor Theron. He had been truly alone, for the first time in a long time.

But he couldn't stay angry forever, couldn't refuse to function.

He had made himself a new life on a new planet. He worked making his art, and he made friends. Occasionally, he traveled, too.

A year into his new life, tragedy struck, and his anger found a purpose once more.

That anger was why he was on this ship- the Warlord and his people had taken his friends from him. Altair would now take everything from them.

Blood splattered across the floor as he sliced a man in half, another one falling to the floor and convulsing as he threw a bolt of lightning. He finished him off my snapping his neck, and then lunged forward to dispatch a third.

He turned his head to look back at the dimly lit hallway, the blood of his enemies painting the scenery red.

No time to hesitate.

Altair continued moving, masking his presence, making himself damn near invisible. Coming upon more panicked guards trying to get a handle on the situation while also moving to get their leader out, he stopped in the shadows and listened. Escape pods. So that was their plans.

He turned and slipped through the darkness, popping out here and there to dispatch of anyone who seemed like they could be trouble, and by the time he made it to the escape pods, the Warlord was rushing his people to get ready- voice catching in his throat as the Sith stepped out.

With a few simple flicks of the wrist, Altair deflected blaster bolts back at the ones who thought that shooting at him would be a good idea, and two men who tried to flee were yanked back and slammed into the metal floors hard enough to break their heads open, a bit of blood splattering over the Sith's dark boots.

His head turned to the Warlord himself- the man who had ordered the attack on the place Altair had called home. Killed his neighbors, his friends, people who were innocent and deserved better.

"And then," He spoke, reaching out with the Force and warping the metal around the escape pods so they couldn't launch, "There was only us..."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Some part of him was glad he managed to hold on to his rage, even as his enemy laid dead behind him. It kept him from flinching back as this man- Thrawn- stepped closer. He stopped his pacing, and lifted his head to hold it high. Though his eyes were hidden behind his armored mask, he was very obviously studying both Thrawn and his guards.

"An alliance?" He asked, some curiosity in his tone that carried even through the modulation. He hadn't been expecting that, though he thought he could see where accepting such a thing would lead him.

Away from the peace of living on a planet, surrounded by neighbors and friends, away from being just another face in the crowd. A life of being in motion, in battle, in war.

Right now, that didn't sound so bad. He certainly had a lot of fury left over, and there were more men out there who deserved to get up close and personal with the business end of his lightsaber.

If that was what Thrawn was proposing, then that wouldn't be unwelcome.

Still, caution was necessary. He knew nothing of this man, after all, what he wanted of him, and he knew all too well the pain of trusting the wrong people and suffering for it.

That was a chapter of his life he wanted to be done with.

"I can certainly see an alliance with a Sith benefiting you, alien," He said, deciding in that moment to pass himself off as human beneath his armor- it was safer, he felt, "I fail to see what I could possibly gain from an alliance with you."

"You would gain a place within the Empire of the Hand. This warlord hurt your people, and took them away from you, thus you took revenge. There are others like him out there, and we have made it our mission to protect this galaxy. If you were to join me, I could offer you a position within my Empire."

He looked around at the carnage and the dead warlord. Yes, the Sith had saved them quite a lot of trouble.

"But, perhaps we may discuss the terms of such an alliance in a more proper setting."

"An unspecified position within your Empire? You must think a Sith's help is very cheap indeed. And that I am merciful, apparently."

Though if he had other things to offer, that didn't rely on him being the merciful- even if he was- then perhaps they too would indeed be best discussed in a more proper setting. Somewhere not surrounded by the results of Altair's rage, somewhere a little more safe.

He sighed, the sound coming across as a hiss through his mask, as he closed his lightsaber and returned it to his side. He was relatively confident he could get himself out of any trouble, should the Grand Admiral's guards decide to take a shot at him now that he didn't have his weapon in his hands- though they seemed perhaps smart enough to know that he was not unarmed even without it.

"Two days from now, in the remains of the village this scum destroyed. Meet me there with an offer I can't refuse."

He moved to grab the dead Warlord from where he sat, so he could drag him along- he would bring back proof to the survivors that their enemy was dead- would hang his corpse in the remains of the town square.

"If you can't, then I suggest you don't show at all."

"Very well. Until then, I look forward to our meeting." Thrawn turns to his Stormtroopers and orders them back onto the Star Destroyer. They can let the Sith have this ship and its spoils.

Two days pass, during which Thrawn has spoken with his advisors and thought up a deal for the Sith. Captain Parck thinks this is a bad idea, but he trusts his Admiral, as do Dagon and Baron Fel. Thrawn is confident that they can recruit this Sith onto their side.

He arrives at the village alone. Stormtroopers are no match for a Sith and thus he won't risk their lives, and besides, Thrawn already has a plan in mind just in case the Sith gets violent.

The Warlord hung on a pike in the center of the village, rather gruesomely strung up by his entrails. Serving as both as a warning to any land-locked cretins that might take advantage of the situation, and as a celebration that at least this Warlord will never, ever hurt anyone else again.

Already the survivors are starting to rebuild. To pick up the pieces, to move on, because there's nothing else they can do.

They will mourn for the dead, and do what they must.

Altair is seated on the remains of a wall of a house, when Thrawn arrives.

"Nothing for them to do but try to move on with their lives. There's not much else I can do for them."

Their people are buried. The reason for their suffering dead. One day, the village will thrive again. But there's nothing more Altair could offer them now- and he still grieves over the fact that he couldn't protect them in the first place.

"You've come with an offer I can't refuse."

It wasn't a question. He had to be there for that reason, or he wouldn't have come at all.

Thrawn looked at the display like it was art, because in a way, it was. It was artwork meant to warn others that the person in charge was dangerous and the same fate would befall all who crossed him. It was also likely to be the Sith's way of getting one final act of revenge against the warlord. Thrawn couldn't help but think how much easier the Hand's duties would have been had they recruited this man before now.

He stood tall and proud before the Sith, not showing fear.

"The Empire of the Hand protects our own. If you join with us, then we can guarantee that this village, and any others you might bring under your banner, will be protected. We can teach them to fight as well."

That was just one thing on the table.

"Join me, and you can help prevent the same fate from befalling other villages and civilizations."

Thrawn knew that the Sith couldn't be brought over with material wealth. But perhaps he could be swayed by the opportunity to bring justice.

"You misunderstand my relationship to this village- they are not under my banner. They gave me a home when I had none."

To offer a home to a Sith was obviously insanity, but they had anyway. They had said it was because he seemed lost and very alone, and no amount of Sith bristling had been able to scare them into taking back their invitation to stay. He had been a person in need, they had recognized that, and he had stayed.

He'd offered protection- to both this village, and any other nearby. But he had been a guest. They weren't under his banner any more than he was under theirs.

"I'd say you've once again overestimated my mercy and my sense of justice, but..."

Two days. Surely he'd done more than twiddle his thumbs for that amount of time. Maybe this wasn't him assuming, but knowing.

"Keep in mind that to try and chain me would be a mistake. But so long as you can promise me that you intend to make the galaxy a better place and not a worse one, I will do what I can to help you achieve that goal."

"I assure you, we do not chain those under the banner of the Hand. We call ourselves an Empire, but it is an Empire in name only." It was an Empire in the sense that there was one ruler and that ruler had a final say in all decisions, but it wasn't Palpatine's Empire back in Lesser Space.

"We will still offer our protection to his village from any future marauders and warlords, whether you are associated with them or otherwise. Likewise, you are still welcome to a position within the Empire of the Hand. There is an empty seat on my council, if you are interested."

He'd already convinced Parck and the others that he knew what he was doing in offering the Sith such a position.

"Very well. So long as our goals remain the same, you will have my assistance."

Not his loyalty, admittedly. Only help in achieving his goals. Perhaps loyalty would come later. Until then, the fear he felt around the Chiss would serve him well- not that he imagined it was easy to tell that he was afraid, considering his armor completely concealed him, and his body language was relaxed enough.

And for now, he intended to continue hiding behind his armor- to sell himself as human beneath it. It was a deception, but a small one- and a necessary one.

"I didn't introduce myself last time, did I? I am Darth Nox. Simply calling me Nox will suffice."

He wouldn't demand to be called Lord. Not in this day and age, when his title mattered so little.

"Excellent. I welcome you to the Empire of the Hand, Nox. You are welcome to remain on this world, if you wish, or we may find a room for you on the Admonitor. I will also need to speak with this world's leaders to offer a partnership with my Empire."

Giving Nox a small bow of his head, Thrawn turned on his heel and began to walk back to the shuttle.

"I would prefer a room on the Admonitor, in that case."

It made sense- maybe not to Thrawn, maybe he was assuming that a Sith wanted more distance- but to him. After all, if he was to assist him with his ambitions, then it would be bothersome if he needed to come pick him up whenever his services were required.

And so long as he had the privacy of a room to himself, he could manage living on a ship again.

"By the time you've had your chat with the leaders, I should be ready to go."

He had a few things he needed to pack- but his life here was pretty easy to pick up and continue elsewhere. Besides, he'd done all he could. It was time to move on from this place.

"Very well." Thrawn bowed his head to Nox, before going to seek out the village leaders. He gave them his proposition, promising that the Hand would teach them to defend themselves while also offering protection. He also made it clear that coming under the Empire's banner was completely optional and they were under no pressure, especially when the warlord who killed their kin was very dead. Hopefully the man's head on a pike would send the right message to others who wished this village harm.

The leaders said they would contact Thrawn once they reached a decision. Thrawn bade them goodbye and returned to his shuttle.

By the time Thrawn returned, Altair had gotten what few belongings he had, and was waiting by his shuttle, having found a spot to sit down, and while he waited, he'd pulled out one of his embroideries to work on. It was somewhat awkward to work on his embroidery while wearing his armor, but easy enough to work around- after all, in his own time, he'd sometimes worked on it while wearing his veil, too.

He lifted his head at the other man's approach, and stood, shoving his embroidery into his bag after making sure the needle was secure.

"I take it it's time to leave?" He asked, figuring the leaders would be contacting him by holo with their response if he didn't have his answer already- after all, it was doubtful that he had time to stick around on this planet for a debate. Thrawn had to be a busy man.

Thrawn saw the embroidery, of course. An odd hobby for a Sith to have. This already told him that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary Sith. He didn't get a good look at what he was embroidering, but he did see that it was a flower. Very interesting indeed. Thrawn would have to ask about it, if the Sith was willing to indulge. Though, the way Nox quickly hid it away told Thrawn that the man didn't want to appear soft by having such a hobby.

He sat down and strapped in, "Indeed. I have already contacted Admiral Parck and told him to set up a room for you."

"I see," Altair said, glad to hear it, but not about to say as much- it was expected, after all.
---

Over the next few months, Altair played the role of dutiful Sith. He accepted every mission Thrawn gave, but remained cold to both him and the crew, and he found that a bit easier to do since he'd chosen to keep his armor on during any dealings with other people. He only dressed down when he was alone, and gave no hints that might suggest he was anything other than human.

He didn't socialize, didn't share any meals with any of the crew (in fact, he barely ate at all), nor did he often chat with anyone besides to give information, and he got the feeling that with the exception of Thrawn himself, everyone feared him and thought that he was one bad day away from slicing someone to ribbons with his lightsaber.

That suited him just fine.

His room showed a vibrant personality- he'd spent much downtime working on his embroideries and had hung them on his walls, had crocheted many a decorative thing to make it feel more like a new home, but outside those walls, he wasn't Altair- he was Nox.

On this particular day, he was in the middle of delivering a report from his latest mission when he felt a wave of dizziness coming on, going quiet as he very nearly lost his balance even standing still, bringing a hand up to his covered face and closing his eyes as he tried to shake it off.

He'd known he had a fever earlier.

He didn't think it was one he wouldn't be able to fight off.

"My apologies-" He said, voice sounding unsure and tired even through the modulation of his mask, "Could we cut this short? It appears I cannot fight through this illness half as well as I thought I could."

Nox made the rest of the crew nervous, including Captain Dagon. They feared that if they even looked at him the wrong way, he would strangle them or put his lightsaber through their chest. Most of them knew stories of the Sith, or of Darth Vader, and his fearsome wrath. Even after a few months, they still tried not to flinch when he was in the room. Admiral Parck trusted Thrawn more than he feared Nox, and knew that Thrawn wouldn't have brought Nox on board if he thought he was a danger to the crew.

Nox had also proven himself useful, as an ally and council member. So far, Thrawn had made it a point to not make it obvious to the galaxy, especially his enemies, that one of his new allies was a Sith. The less they knew, the more Thrawn had the advantage.

But even a Sith wasn't invulnerable, as evidenced by Nox's discomfort and difficulty keeping balance.

"Of course. Allow me to see you to the medical bay."

"I only need to rest, I hardly need to go to the medical bay," Altair said, shaking his head- and immediately regretting that move from how dizzy it made him, stumbling and falling to his knees. The embarrassment at least gave him some clarity and he breathed in so he could try and push himself back up onto his feet.

And failing.

The humiliation was apparently not enough to carry him through this, even as it made rage burn in him.

His rage burned, but his vision was going black- he supposed he'd relaxed too much by the fact that he was at the end of a mission, and that the report was all that was left before he could return to his room. Such a rookie mistake, to not hold onto all the emotions he'd felt.

Altair wasn't sure where he'd wake up- on the floor, or in the medical bay, but either way- "My armor- don't-"

And that was all he managed before losing consciousness, slumping forward onto the floor, his last thought a curse to himself and his own weakness.

Thrawn went to Nox's side and lifted him up, carrying him to the medical bay. At the moment, there were only medical droids on staff, and Thrawn figured he would only call the doctor if Nox's fever didn't break soon or he got worse. Most of the crew believed that Nox was human, but Thrawn had his doubts. That said, he didn't know what species lay under that armor, and couldn't plan accordingly when it came to medical attention.

Thrawn sat by Nox's berth as the droids took his temperature, telling Thrawn that Nox's fever wasn't getting worse. The droids were unable to recognize Nox's species from their scans, since it wasn't in their databanks. All they could tell was that he wasn't human.

Trusting Parck to run the bridge, Thrawn got out his datapad to read and wait for Nox to awaken. Or until the droids kicked him out.

It would become obvious soon enough that he would need the attention of a doctor- not waking, breathing harder- being sealed inside the suit of armor wasn't exactly doing him any favors. Peeling him out of it would be necessary, despite Altair's obvious aversion to being without it.

It was that aversion that was cause for hesitation- and plenty of asking permission from Thrawn beforehand.

Thrawn wasn't scared of the Sith, but the doctors who came to tend to the Sith sure were.

They asked the Grand Admiral to step aside while they worked, though not to leave- after all, while they trusted their Grand Admiral, they didn't trust the Sith- beyond trusting that he wouldn't lash out with Thrawn in the room, considering how it did seem like the Sith did value the work and the position he'd been given.

That, at least, they were reasonably sure of.

They worked his gloves off first, looking at each other upon seeing blue skin beneath- "Pantoran, perhaps?"

It was possible.

Working the hood back, there was some confusion on how to get the mask off, though after some examination of it, they managed to get it open, then off- the light blue hair of the Sith did indeed suggest Pantoran, but...

Looking back at Thrawn, it was obvious they were looking to him for answers, before even thinking about treating the Sith.

Thrawn stood to the side, allowing the doctors to work, and making sure he wasn't in the way. Still, he was deeply curious as the Sith's armor came off. What few glances he'd seen at Nox's embroidery told him very little about what species he was, other than the fact that he was certainly raised among humans, possibly even raised as one.

The blue skin made his eyebrows go up slightly. Yes, it was most likely that Nox was a Pantoran or another species with blue skin.

He felt anticipation building as the doctors managed to remove Nox's helmet. What he saw made his eyes widen and lean in for a closer look. No, it couldn't be.

Gently, Thrawn turned Nox's face towards himself. Yes, there was no way Thrawn wouldn't recognize a member of his own species. Darth Nox was a Chiss. This raised all sorts of questions, like why Nox hadn't told him from the start, or how a Chiss with Force sensitivity existed in the first place. As far as Thrawn knew, there were no Chiss with the Force.

Releasing Nox, Thrawn turned to the doctors. "Remove his armor and treat his fever. However, you are not to breathe a word of this to anybody. This does not leave the medical bay until I say it does."

They certainly would not breathe a word about this- not only because they had been ordered to, but also because they worried that the Sith would come after them, personally, if they so much as thought about it. It was a curious mix of loyalty to Thrawn and fear of the Sith who hadn't hurt anyone so far as they were aware, but was certainly capable of it.

They went about removing the rest of his armor, and treating his fever, and excusing themselves as quickly as they could, leaving Thrawn alone with the Sith once more- the doctors trusted that he knew what he was doing.

It would be another hour before Altair began waking, opening his eyes slowly and blinking a couple times- where was-

Oh. Medical bay and-

Where was his armor-

He sat straight up in his panic, not even thinking about sensing his surroundings through the Force, instead growing more fearful as his red eyes landed on Thrawn- the sort of fear that was usually reserved for a victim looking at the person who would murder them.

Thrawn looked over when he sensed movement. The moment Nox opened his eyes, there was no doubt left. Darth Nox was a Chiss. He just looked at Nox with his usual iciness, remaining seated.

"Ah, awake at last." He put his datapad down, raising a curious eyebrow at Nox. "You are afraid."

"Oh, is that what I am?" Altair asked, once he reined in his panic and used the fear to fuel him instead. He was no less afraid of course, simply controlling his fear rather than letting it control him. Time and distance and even learning that not all Chiss were the same really hadn't changed the fact that he was terrified of his own species.

Both his body language and his tone were quite tense, like he was just waiting for something bad to happen.

Though considering the fact that he'd actually woken up rather than having been killed when he was unconscious, perhaps Thrawn was in the same category of people as Aristocra Saganu had been, who simply saw him as a useful tool to get what they needed.

Which wasn't all too different from their arrangement before, really.

"I thought I said to not remove my armor," He said then, narrowing his eyes, though he was fully aware that he hadn't been able to say quite that much before getting familiar with the floor. Still, he knew that Thrawn was a smart man- he should have gotten the message from what Altair had managed to say before losing consciousness.

"You did," Thrawn confirmed. "However, it was necessary to remove it in order to treat your fever. You were burning up." He omitted the fact that two human doctors had been the ones to remove the armor. Thrawn didn't need Nox taking his frustration out on them too.

"So, you are a Chiss. Why did you not tell me before?" Nox still had some fear in his eyes. Why he was scared, Thrawn didn't have a clue.

Altair supposed that was fair. After all, despite his fear, he didn't actually want to die from something as easy to fight off as a fever. If he did, he imagined that when he did see his ancestor again on the other side, he'd get nagged at for the rest of eternity.

"Did you need to know?" He asked, "Would anything have been different if you knew from the start?"

Altair thought so- Altair thought that had he said so from the start, then he wouldn't have been given that offer to join. The people who had taken him in would not have been given protection. Of course, these were only his thoughts, and not Thrawn's.

"You needed my strength, and I was given a deal I couldn't refuse. That's all there is to it."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject