Stripped of Heart
“Good day, Sith scum.” Grevious was happy. He had pushed back the clones, relocated to a better base and could eerily gaze enjoyably at the captured apprentice.
The latter suspended from the magnetic locks, arms spread eagle as if crucified. Droids held stun batons and had no qualms about using them as cattle prods and torture implements. For a week they had their fill of his screams; droids were the perfect torturers, having no emotions whatsoever. On the eight day Grevious had come to visit him.
“I have nothing to give you,” groaned the apprentice. He was having difficulty breathing properly.
“Oh yes. I am well aware of that,” replied the cyborg sadistically.
“Then why?” rasped the apprentice. “Why all this? Why not just kill me?”
Grevious let out his metallic laugh. “Because you are a message, Sith. Thanks to your sabotage I now know that there are other Sith other that Dooku, and they are against me. I will imprison you forever, showing them what awaits them should they decide to get in my way again.”
“I am useful to my master,” said the apprentice. “It won’t be long until he comes for me.”
“Your master you say?” asked Grevious. “This wouldn’t be the same Darth Mortris who discreetly passed me a warning about some Sith assassin in my base?”
The apprentice’s eyes spread open, wide in shock. “No! You lie!”
“Did you not find it strange that your engine blew up?”
“I was struck by lightning. It was an unfortunate accident.”
“You engine was indeed struck by lightning, but it was not natural.”
“You lie!” screamed the apprentice.
“Then watch this. This is from the onboard astro droid,” said Grevious as he extracted a large, circular astro droid head. After a few button pushes an image began projecting. It showed the storm with lightning erupting from the surrounding cumulonimbus clouds yet not bolt hit the starfighter. Then the image shook violently as a lightning bolt crawled from the underside of the ship. It was definitely not natural lightning; the image projected it as darker and different shade of blue and violet. After the final twist of electricity, the image ended in static.
“As you can see, it was not natural lightning. That was Sith Lightning,” said the cyborg. “And to my knowledge only few Sith remain who are powerful enough to unleash such potent Force powers.”
“Master wouldn’t stoop so low,” said the apprentice adamantly.
“He betrayed you, apprentice; sold you out. Your master was faced with a choice: you or joining our side. You want to know how much you’re worth? Four ancient Sith scrolls. That’s your price: four musty, yellow, scraps of paper.” The cyborg let out a burst of laughter and bent over in a coughing fit. Desperate, the apprentice reached for the Force, attempting to break free. He channeled anger and pain, his heartbreak fuelling his power, and the droids were thrown backward. But he wasn’t strong enough to break free of the magnetic bonds. His anger wasn’t powerful enough. He tried to reach deep in his heart and channel the Dark Side from his very depth. He felt empty, as if his heart had died. What was the point in fighting? Why kill and battle? He had nothing: no home, no Master, no bonds of any sort. He was utterly alone.
“Don’t you have a war to lose? General?” he said meekly.
“Yes, yes. You think you have me now but I haven’t begun with you yet. You will be cast aside, thrown in a prison cell for the rest of your life. I want to see how long it will take for you to break down. I am curious how despair will twist you. I wonder how long it will take for the reality to sink in: that you are truly helpless before me.” Grevious signaled for the droids to take the apprentice again.
They took him to a large, thick durasteel door. It opened with a loud whirring noise. They unshackled him and jabbed their stun batons at his side. The apprentice stumbled inside a small room with nothing but a small ribbed window. The only illumination inside the room was a series of narrow beams of light.
The apprentice splayed pathetically on the ground.
“Your master tells me that you are fond of this,” said Grevious. He held up the apprentices’ saberstaff. The apprentice was too weak to properly stand up, let alone try to snatch the lightsaber. He eyed his weapon longingly. With a grunt, Grevious extended his fist and crushed the weapon as if it were made of putty. The weapon crumbled into dust in front the apprentice.
“You are helpless,” repeated Grevious before leaving. Once all were gone, the apprentice rushed towards the weapon remains. The hilt was crushed beyond repair. Only the four blood red synthetic remained intact; the ones that powered his plasma blades. He had created them himself when his master had taught him how to create a lightsaber. He placed them inside a pocket and took in his surroundings, trying hard not to despair. His master had left him and he was imprisoned in a durasteel cage on sine remote desert planet. He had no plan, no weapon and no power.
He was truly alone.