A Mother's Touch

INEFFABLE TRUST

The Stranger glanced at the carnage left in the wake of the apprentices finishing each other off in a battle royale that shook even his resolve. It was brutal, bloody, and final as it should have been for Sith.

"You really must teach me that," the Stranger whispered. Sensing Osha at his side, he turned to look at her. If he had tried to see her with his own eyes, he would have failed to notice her, but within the mask, with his senses heightened by the Force, he saw her, immersed in shimmering black strands. The Thread darted and weaved about her in a protective cyclone.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice shaking. "You could have been killed."

And then what becomes of me? Without you? he heard the unspoken question in the back of her mind.

"This is far from over, Osha," he said his voice resonating within the mask. He made his way onto the ramp of a nearby freighter.

"I beg to differ," said a shrewd, nasally voice.

The Stranger ducked low to see beneath the landing struts. Dressed in a black robe, the Twi'lek's sharpened teeth leered at him from a face too thin, too angular to be corporeal. The malevolent presence moved effortlessly, gliding across the ground and over the bodies strewn throughout the docking tarmac.

"What have we here?" the Sith Lord said, drawing back his hood. His face was an artistic mosaic of blue and black tribal tattoos, the majority of dark pigment reserved for his lekku, which were bound in netted, leather cords over his gaunt shoulders. "If you've come seeking a Master, you've caught my attention."

"I seek no Master," the Stranger replied.

"You will beg to serve me." The Sith Lord extended his hands in the Stranger's direction. Lightning escaped from the tips of his blackened fingertips. It arced at him like the claws of a predator, seeking to envelop him and burn the flesh from his bones.

The Stranger ignited his lightsaber and twisted the hilt to split the blades in two. Parrying each tendril of lightning, he frantically pirouetted in a desperate attempt to deflect the deadly electricity assailing him from all directions. He succeeded and managed to evade the first barrage, but was not certain he could survive a second.

In a moment of panic, he considered running, but noticed that the tapestry of the Thread had formed a narrow wall between above him and the Sith Lord—Osha's handiwork. It swirled in loose coils, the ends dictating a path of action through the impenetrable lightning field. He let it guide his hands and the sabers, allowing him to find a way through the electrical field to the source.

Breaking through the Sith Lord's attack, the Stranger pushed to within two meters of him and threw both sabers as hard as he could. But the Twi'lek ceased the lightning and deflected the sabers with a modified use of Force-push. The black hilts dropped to the ground and disengaged at his feet. "If I cannot break your body, I will break your mind and reshape you into an instrument of my will."

With no warning, the cortosis helm was snatched from the Stranger's head. Before it could clatter to the ground, he was on his knees, gasping in pain, helpless as the Sith Lord infiltrated his mind. He felt the surge of domination from the more powerful Sith, raking and clawing through his inner most thoughts.

"Ah, I see her," the Twi'lek said, chuckling. "She is quite special, quite special to you in more ways than you know, boy. She will also serve me as well when you bring her to me."

I'll kill you first! The Stranger fought to scream the words, but nothing came from his mouth. His throat was constricted, and he could not breathe. As he gasped for breath, the Twi'lek unleashed his Force lightning on him. Unprotected, his body convulsed and lurched in spasmodic fits. As he lost control of his physical body, he was slowly losing control of his thoughts. Osha?

A swirl of black smoke revolved around the Stranger's head like a newborn galaxy. It moved among the filaments of the Thread. The Stranger was vaguely aware of it as his consciousness faded.

"Let me in," Osha whispered.

The Stranger did not resist, opening his mouth as the smoke coiled about his head and forced its way down into his throat. It was an unsettling feeling, like being devoured from within, but he felt her, his Acolyte, moving into him and through him, manifesting herself like the Force.

The agony from the Force Lightning ceased. Though the erratic electricity continued to crackle around him, the malignant energy passed harmlessly through him. The Stranger looked at his arms and through them, watching the tendrils of lightning strike and blacken the ground beneath him.

Released from the Sith Lord's control, the Stranger stood up. A cocky smirk curled in the corners of his mouth at the Twi'lek's dumbfounded reaction. There was fear in his distressed, yellow eyes. "How?" he demanded in a hoarse growl. "How is this possible?"

"You won't live long enough to know." The Stranger, his eyes blackened by possession, recalled his saber hilts, reconnected them, and attached the weapon to his belt. Summoning the Thread to his command, he looped it about the Sith's legs, arms, and upper torso, then pulled the strands taut, tightening them until the Twi'lek writhed in agony.

The Stranger walked over to where his mask had fallen and retrieved it. The impact of the cortosis had left a slight crack in the concrete and a scuff on the metal. He quite liked the new aesthetic and admired it before lowering it over his face and head.

Turning to the Twi'lek, he tensed the muscles of his right hand. The Thread constricted, and the Twi'lek wailed in agony. The black strands continued to squeeze the Sith Lord's extremities, despite his convulsive gasps. They redoubled about his limbs and coiled about his neck until there was a sickening pop of air pressure and the wet smack of severed limbs on the tarmac. His arms, legs, and head fell almost weightlessly to the ground in a spray of blood.

In the back of his mind, the Stranger heard Osha panting. He tilted his head to listen. "Osha?"

"I'm...okay..."

Though their connection was still strong, he sensed it fraying as her strength waned. Osha's ability to cross space and fight at his side with a lightsaber and then fend off a Sith Lord that might have killed him was a testament to her power, but the toll was greater than he had expected. He didn't know how much longer she might be able to maintain the connection. "Withdraw."

"No. I'm not leaving you."

"I appreciate the assist, but not at the expense of—"

"Then whatever you're here to do, I suggest you hurry, Master," she said, "because I'm staying with you."

The Stranger ascended the ramp, not knowing what awaited him, but assured that he and his Acolyte were equipped to handle it.