The Encounter
It couldn’t be. The short one in the dark cloak; the encounter on Topan, where it all started; his good friend Jethra, gone in an instant; all of it was coming back to him now. He shuddered as he came to grips with the memories the one in front of him brought to mind. Fear gripped him now, true fear.
And who could be next to him but Master Quithar, whom up until the discussion at the interrogation he had trusted his life to. And now she was here, discussing, perhaps conspiring with the enemy. And not just any enemy, but his enemy. He was the one responsible for Jethra’s death. A flame sparked inside of him that began to grow.
“If it isn’t the one from the measly planet Topan” the Jedi began. “Well, young one, you’ve come a long way since then. What could have brought you here? Oh yes, your good friend here.” He pointed to Master Quithar, who was now standing almost behind the dark one. It looked as if, subtly, the anomid was trying to hide herself, her height helping her all the more. “I told them to train the best of force adepts they could find on each of the planets we’d picked out. Once my apprentice and I saw you, we were about to take you with us and have the Jedi train you, but you got away.”
Master Quithar spoke sarcastically. “But I thought there were no exceptions to your planet destruction policies.”
The dark Jedi whipped around and held out his hand in the shape of a fist. He picked Master Quithar off the floor, who had grabbed her throat as if being choked, and threw her backwards up against the wall. “I never told you to speak” he said as he turned back around. “Where was I. Oh yes. Now you’re here. What are your plans, Jedi? Did you come into headquarters to assassinate me, thinking that would do your new cause good? I’m quite sure you’re mistaken, and I’ll tell you why. The people trust me. I’ve brought nothing but economic gain and benefit to the entire Republic. Capula is more powerful than the Jedi council now. Our decisions mean more than the Senate. For who do the people trust? The ones who seem to give them more, of course. Who may I ask would that be? Corrupt bureaucrats, who bring the Republic into constant bickering over small and unimportant political issues? The Jedi Council, who many believe sit high and mighty above everyone else because of their “gifts”? Or Capula, who gives people directly what they want: money. We may be conquering planets and plundering riches in order to obtain that wealth, but the people don’t see it. Neither would they care, when they can sit snug in their homes without worry of financial trouble. You see, once people have what they want, what they need, they don’t care where it comes from, as long as they can have it.”
“That’s not true!” Corik blurted out. He couldn’t stand being silent any longer. His fear had turned to anger as he listened to the villainy of what this wretch preached. His fire had grown large.
“Oh it is.” The dark Jedi looked back at Master Quithar, still motionless on the floor. “Consider what your friend has done to you. She has led you on, thinking that the ways of the Jedi are true and valiant and without deceit. All the while she was working for a cause you don’t believe in. She never told you that she was supporting a man who was responsible for the death of your friend, your only friend.”
Corik could no longer say a word, for however much he wished to deny it, it was true. Talia had betrayed him, along with the rest of the Jedi. They should all be punished for what they’ve done. Corik’s anger hit the melting point, all of it turning to hate. He hated people, hated the corruption, hated everything. Nothing was good enough.
“You see, it’s Talia’s fault of this happened. She and the Jedi Council must pay for what they’ve done to you, pay for playing both sides, pay for being two-faced.” It seemed so simple. All he need do was kill master Quithar and justice would be served. He would be at peace. But was that the answer? Did the Jedi deserve death for what they did? Were they really traitors? Could he join this man, the one whose words seemed so true and so powerful? Would the Republic survive? The questions kept coming, the answers too hard to decide on.
“Don’t feel, think. You know you want this. You know it is for the best.”
Every influence seemed strong, his feelings bringing him one way, his thoughts another. His hand was clenched on his lightsaber so tightly it began to hurt. Though it was but a short instant, it felt like an eternity of conflict. And in that instant he chose.