Jedi Insurgency 195

AN: I messed up my release order. This was meant to be 194…

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(Happening before Vader's assault)

The holocomm went dark, and with it, the last echoes of Revan’s voice faded into silence.

Sev’rance Tann sat in the cockpit of her sleek stealth bomber. Narrowing her crimson eyes, her tactical mind went through no less than a dozen scenarios as Nar Shaddaa’s neon-lit skyline stretched out before her. The Smuggler’s Moon glittered with explosions as Hutt & Imperial vessels sparred with one another. 

The boy, Mitth'raw'nuruodo was too composed, making her believe that there was some trick. Chiss, better than anyone else understood the true reserves accumulated by the Hutts. Their stockpile of weapons, droids, critical resources, and ships was significant. She wondered if this so-called Infinite Engine truly was as wondrous as Revan had made it out to be. After all, as a Darkside Adept, she had no compunctions against using a tool, so long as the results were worth the price. 

Drumming her perfectly manicured fingernails against the bomber's controls, she glanced to her left, and saw Revan waving to her from the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon. 

Rolling her eyes, she minutely shook her head. 

‘Such a child.’

Tann internally scoffed, sending the message through their Bond. 

A grin through the Force ever so slightly increased her heart rate. 

‘Just happy to see you. Your arrival was most timely. The stalemate couldn't have been broken without you.’ 

Tann internally preened under the praise, yet made sure not to show any of it. 

‘Naturally.’ She proudly replied, sticking her nose up. 

‘That’s my evil blueberry.’ Revan chuckled. 

‘Excuse me, your what?’ 

‘Heh, good luck with your meeting.’ Revan lightly chuckled, then flew off. 

Tann sharply exhaled. That man was trouble…She wouldn't have it any other way. 

Piloting the stealth bomber towards a specific destination, she followed a feeling in the Force. 

With a flick of her wrist, she guided the craft downward, settling onto a private landing pad jutting from the side of a towering spire. Steam hissed from the landing struts as the engines powered down, leaving only the distant hum of the city and the occasional roar of passing speeders. Even though Nar Shaddaa was ‘under attack’ the moon was massive, and the section she had flown to was busy as usual, acting as if the current conflict between the Imperials & Hutts had nothing to do with them. 

Standing from her seat in the cockpit, Tann stroked her holocron, and a jeweled amulet that hung from her neck, wondering if she'd have to put all that she had learned from Freedon Nadd to the test. Tann stared into the hangar, and met the gaze of the one who had invited her here. 

A lone figure stood at the far end of the hanhar. Wrapped in all black, twin curved lightsabers hung at her hips, conspicuously, a jeweled ring shone in the shadow of her robe. Short, white hair coated her head, her skin was grey, and her frame was lithe. The dark side coiled around her like a living thing, reminding one of a serpent preparing to strike. 

This was: 

Asajj Ventress.

Tann exhaled slowly, her expression smoothing into something cool and composed, though her fingers tightened briefly at her side. Memories from six years ago sprang to mind. Of a teen girl fighting by her side, yelling that she would ‘become a true Sith’ and kill all the Jedi. Of their old master constantly dueling both of them, honing their instincts, and skills. Of that little girl broken, crying in a hallway, and teaching that girl how to be strong. Tann had been in her early 20's, now she was approaching 30, and that young teen was in her early 20's. The wheel of time had passed, and so much had happened. Their master had passed, and that Force Bond forged in the pits of torturous training hung on by the thinnest of threads. 

“Little sister.” Tann whispered, a hint of venom entering her voice. 

Tann descended gracefully from the cockpit, her boots were soft as they landed, yet an echo in the Force announced her presence. 

Her aura was like that of a master chess player. No matter what was said or done, it would not phase her. Surprise was not a part of her vernacular, nor was any scenario too confusing to comprehend. The Force sang her name, her power. 

For she was Sev’rance Tann. The most gifted of Darth Tyranus’ students. 

Ventress didn’t move, or so much as say a word. Her black painted lips were flat, her posture was like that of a hooligan, holding Tann in extreme disregard. 

Tann stopped a few dozen feet away, and crossed her arms, waiting to see what this long lost friend had to say for herself. 

For a long moment, neither spoke.

The air between them was thick with tension. Not only was the Darkside potent in both women, but memories of the past were constantly at play. Years of training, rivalry, laughter…the Force connected them in ways that no ordinary person could comprehend. Like siblings that hadn't seen one another for over a decade due to disagreements, their feelings ran deep. 

Finally, Ventress tilted her head, her pale eyes scanned Tann from head to toe.

“…You’re alive.” Ventress rasped, making it more of a statement than a question. 

Tann’s lips curved, though there was no warmth in the motion. “Disappointed?”

“I thought you were dead.” Ventress looked away somewhat sheepishly, anger coloring her voice. 

“And I, my once beloved little sister, thought you would come for me.” Tann smoothly replied, arching an eyebrow. 

Ventress flinched. No one would notice unless they were trained, or unless they had spent considerable time together. Tann's lips quirked slightly up. 

“Look at you. A little taller, a new style, impressive. Yet as much as things have changed, you're still the same little girl, crying for mommy.” Tann playfully stated, reaching to stroke Ventress’s hair with the Force, only for the Dathomiri to bat it aside. 

“Don’t.” Ventress snapped, her tone suddenly brittle. “You don’t get to come back into my life, and treat me like the same little girl.”

“Very well, then let me educate you on the world of adults. It's been five years, Asajj.” Tann’s voice cut cleanly through hers. Any hint of playfulness evaporated like a Hutt drowning in salt. 

“Five years.” Tann repeated darkly, stepping closer. “Do you know what it is to be imprisoned so tightly that you cannot move? To feel your muscles atrophy? To scream into the Force and hear nothing answer?”

Ventress said nothing. Her fingers curled slightly, nails digging into her palms.

“I was abused by the guards, only keeping my purity due to my quick wit. There I waited. Rotted. I waited for my Master, my sister.”

Tann never blinked once as the pain and loneliness of five years bore down upon Ventress through the Force. Of how she was gagged most of the time, and cursed as a witch. How Senators, and Padawans were taken to gawk at the ‘dangerous Sith’ like she was some animal in a zoo. How her cell was brightly lit 24/7, how her limbs were shackled spread eagle style 23 1/2 hours of the day. How guards would administer random electric shocks when they had a bad day. 

Five. Years. 

It was any wonder she was still sane. The memory of her first encounter with Revan still irked her, how childish she had acted. Pulling upon all this bitter resentment, she stared Ventress down. 

“You. Never. Came.”

Ventress’s expression twisted. The expected guilt never came, instead, she scowled, and waved Tann off. 

“I had my own war to fight. The old man was a traitor, the Sith were nothing but empty promises, and lies! I was used, and discarded. The Nightsisters were slaughtered. Dathomir burned. I lost everything.”

“I know.” Tann softly replied. 

The sympathy in Tann's tone almost had Ventress break. 

“I felt it. Every death. Every scream.” It was almost as potent an impact as the destruction of the Jedi Temple. 

For a fleeting instant, something like love flickered between them. Like the kind one would hold for a sibling. Then, as fast as it had manifested, it was gone.

“I pitied you, you know?” Tann remarked, strutting past Ventress, and walking into the hangar, pretending to admire an antique protocol droid. 

Ventress stiffened at this, and slowly turned around so that her back was never towards this former rival. 

“I thought, my poor sister…alone, hunted, grieving. Even in this prison cell, I at least have hope for the future.”

Her lip curled, the aristocratic mask of superiority she wore around outsiders cracked just enough to reveal the painfilled, desolate sorrow hidden underneath.

“But my pity was misplaced.” Tann sharply enunciated. 

Ventress’s eyes flashed.

“Oh?” The Dathomiri girl questioned. 

“You are hardly alone now, are you? Playing Queen to that…failed excuse for a Sith. My little sister has all grown up, and as per usual, latched herself onto someone stronger. Your excuses as to why you never once attempted a rescue are as pathetic as your self esteem. The reason why you've never amounted to anything, dear sister, is because you have always been a follower, and you'll always remain a follower.”

The air seemed to drop ten degrees after Tann spoke. Ventress’s hand twitched toward her saber.

“Careful.” Ventress hissed.

“Maul is a creature of rage and broken ambition. You compliment one another well.” Tann darkly smirked, ‘hiding’ her expression behind the back of her hand like some kind of evil Princess. 

Ventress took a step forward, fury radiating off her in waves. “You don’t know anything about what I’ve done to survive.”

“No, but I know what you didn’t do. You never broke your chains. You didn't kill Dooku, you didn't kill Sidious. It is as Master said. You wear the trappings of the Sith. You fight like the Sith, but you are no Sith.”

That hit deeper than anything else said thus far, as Tann's words rang with truth in the Force. 

Ventress’s composure cracked.

“You think I abandoned you? You think I didn’t look? I searched for you for months! Days, weeks of my time that could have been spent training were used to interrogate contacts, infiltrate installations! You have the nerve to insult me, when you are the one who was caught in the first place! All hail Supreme Commander Tann! Three month Leader of the CIS!” Ventress spat. 

“Are you finished spitting over the deck?” Tann asked, tilting her head.

Ventress’s lip curled, the hurt in her voice bled away into anger. “Don’t act like you’re better than me.”

“I am alive, and remain the Supreme Commander. Despite rotting away in a cell for five years, I am more powerful than you could possibly imagine.” Tann flatly stated, barely bothering to entertain her younger sister's tantrum at this point. 

“So am I! And I didn’t spend five years rotting in a box! My powers have more than quadrupled since last we met, Supreme Commander.”

The words echoed in the hangar, and green lightning arced around Ventress’s fingertips as her chest began to rise & fall faster and faster. 

Darkside energies settled around Tann like a solid throne. Command, and an aura of foresight permeated the air as she flexed her power. 

“Tell me.” Tann said, her tone laced with acid sweetness. “Was it worth it? Playing consort to Maul?” Tann questioned, hoping to leverage her shame into a result that she desired most. 

Ventress’s face flushed with fury, and the barest trace of embarrassment. 

“At least I wasn’t cozying up to a fossil.” Ventress shot back, the words dripping venom. “What is he to you, Tann? That relic probably sees you as a tool, a convenient body to satisfy his lust for power, and nothing more.” 

Tann’s gaze narrowed dangerously. “I see your sources are as competent as mine,  well done, little sister. Let me reassure you, Revan is lusting for more than power. Perhaps if you were more open, there could be a seat for you on his throne.” 

“Revan is an ancient. He always appears to be brooding, probably half-dead already-” Ventress said, and then smirked as a thought came to her.

Her next words were sharp, and cruel:

“Can he even get it uhp-”

She didn’t finish as the Force slammed into her.

Ventress skidded backward across the durasteel deck, boots screeching as she caught herself at the edge of the platform, barely stopping herself from going over. Her sabers were in her hands in an instant, crimson blades snapping to life with a vicious hiss.

“Finish that sentence. I dare you.” Tann dangerously grinned. 

Ventress’s chest rose and fell, rage and something far more complicated warring behind her pale gaze.

Hurt.

Abandonment.

Ventress felt a deep longing for acknowledgedment, and perhaps something more than sisterly love. 

“…You always were chasing after powerful old men.” Ventress muttered, alluding to Tann's overtures towards Dooku. 

Tann’s expression flickered, but she shook her head. 

“Nothing happened between Master and I. Silly girl, you have your priorities all warped and twisted. Can't you see? There is a place at the table, and despite all of our grievances, big sister is opening a spot for you.” Tann clucked her tongue, yet despite her words, she slowly unclipped her lightsaber, and ignited it. 

The two women stood facing each other, sabers humming, the past bleeding into the present.

Sisters.

Rivals.

Survivors.

And neither was willing to yield.

Ventress’s twin crimson blades hissed in the neon gloom, their light painting sharp red lines across her pale face.

Sev’rance Tann looked at her, and scoffed. It was a soft noise. Dismissive, yet almost amused.

With a delicate flick of her wrist, her own lightsabers-ignited for that brief, dangerous heartbeat-deactivated. She let the hilts hang loosely at her sides, raising chin lifting ever so slightly.

“You’re so predictable.” Tann said with a faint smirk. “Still leading with your temper.”

Ventress’s eyes burned, as unrequited emotions tore at her heartstrings. “Draw your weapon.”

“There is no need.”

Tann stepped forward. She moved confidently, as if she was approaching an unruly child,  rather than a Sith with blades drawn, and pointed at her throat. 

“Revan and Maul have already formed a truce. Although you may not wish to sleep under our tent, the camp is big. Although I think you are better than him, your King is welcome to share the same air as us.” Tann said, beginning to negotiate this meeting from a different approach. “We need not be enemies this today.”

Ventress’s face twisted into an ugly expression. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Ventress bitterly, rhetorically stated. 

The words echoed across the landing pad.

Tann’s smirk didn’t fade, but something in her eyes shifted, and she assessed Ventress with a calculating look. 

“Then why are you still posturing like you're going to do something?” Tann teased. 

Ventress let out a furious sound. It was half laugh, half snarl, and all madness. The twin sabers suddenly swiped forth. 

For the briefest of seconds, Tann believed that it might really come down to a duel to the death. 

Before the beams of super hot plasma could come close, Ventress deactivated her sabers with violent, stabbing motions. The platform dimmed again, returning them to the glow of Nar Shaddaa’s skyline.

“You…are always like this.” Ventress closed her eyes, and stabbed a finger at Tann's chest. 

“Like what?” Tann arched an eyebrow, and calmly asked, pleased that her plan had seemingly come to fruition. 

“Cold. Calculating. Perfect.”

Each word was said with barely repressed rage, and admiration. 

“You pick the optimal path every time. The safe one. The efficient one. But what is perfect for Sev’rance Tann, isn't necessarily best for those in her orbit.” Ventress said quietly, and then took a seat at the edge of the platform, dangling her legs out towards the constant stream of traffic, and 10,000+ ft drop down below. 

Tann’s lips thinned as she slowly approached from behind. For the first time since stepping off her ship, she had no immediate retort.

She silently wished-what an absurd thought-that she possessed Revan’s infuriatingly smooth tongue. That maddening ability to turn the ignorant into the fanatical, to transform violent topics, and promises of murder into something as grandiose as duty, honor, and brotherhood. 

Privately, she cursed him. That handsome, insufferable man. Falling in love had not been part of her calculus. 

“See? Nothing. You always hide behind silence.” Ventress spat, mistaking her silence for condescension.

Staring at Ventress’s back, and the way she dangled her legs in such a carefree manner, Tann's breath hitched, and for a moment, she once more recalled those tough times together. 

Without a word, she sat down by her side, and dangled her legs down too. Not a word was said, and she pretended not to feel the tears dripping down her chest, or the shakiness in Ventress’s hug. 

“Are you crying…big sis?” Ventress asked in awed confusion, and lifted her head backwards to see. 

“Just some moisture from a leaky pipe.” Tann bit back, and pushed Ventress’s head down, then began to slowly stroke her hair. 

The two sat like that for a good five minutes, neither saying a word, when a crushing, suffocating wave of Darkside energy rolled across Nar Shaddaa like a storm front. The neon lights flickered, and the air seemed to thicken, with a heavy oppressive aura.

“…What is going on?” Ventress demanded. 

Tann’s gaze was fixed toward the city’s distant industrial district, where the dark side coiled like a vortex.

“It’s him, the one who slaughtered our Master with ease:

 Darth Vader.”

The name hung heavy in the air, and Tann took a deep breath to explain what she had learned from Revan. 

“You can feel it. That ancient hunger awakening? An artifact of immense power is on the verge of falling into his hands. We must stop him. Can I count on you, little sister?” 

Ventress’s pale eyes darkened with rage. 

A potent hatred refined over years wafted over her like the most heedy of aromas. Images of that sinister, hypocritical man wrapped in Jedi clothing came to mind. 

She spat a single word, one that contained all of the contempt that she could muster: 

“Skywalker.”

~~~~~

AN: This isn't a harem, Evil Blueberry/Mint Green Tomboy are enough for one man. Bitter Chalk can have the Tattoo Tantrum all to herself. 

I hope you enjoyed some of Evil Blueberry's character development.