Know Thy Enemy

[Trix Bastin]

[member="Ayme Katash"]

Back in this damn room.

Trix frowned down at soft mat beneath her bare feet. Her life flippin' about had happened quickly, within the space of a week. A routine shuttle run had morphed into an offer of free breakfast. The free breakfast into a place to crash. A place to crash to an introduction with a Jedi Master. And the introduction to a Jedi Master…

To this.

Trix raised her steel grey eyes. She flicked them from the lone window set in the wall to her left, to the rack of handheld weapons set against the wall opposite her, then to the empty arched doorway on her right. It was through this doorway that Aela Talith had stepped into her life. All clean cut, straight-backed and white teethed. Trix had been ready to hate her. To hate her like she hated Voidstalker and his free eggs, this Order and its vermin-free beds, and the whole planet with its apparent free ride.

“Nothing is ever free,” Trix muttered to herself.

She’d been waiting in the days since she came here. For the cost of it all. For the price of what they’d offered. When Aela had found her this morning she knew it had been time. Time for the inevitable truth of the matter. If nothing was free there always had to be someone to collect.

Aela was just the first of the Galactic Alliance creditors.

Trix spared another glance at the empty doorway. She jabbed a hand under one of the straps of her black tank, whipped out a small flask, and tossed a mouthful of the fiery liquor back. It burned a soothing trail down her throat, radiated warmth deep in her chest, and then circled down to settle in her gut.

Probably wouldn’t be the only thing burning when this was done. Especially since whoever Talith had lined up would likely be able to use the training saber swinging from Trix’s belt.

“Nothing is ever free,” she said to herself again, taking another draught of the flask before tucking it safely away. “ And you gotta start paying sometime.”

 

[Ayme Katash]

[member="Trix Bastin"]

The barracks she was given on Sullust were at least better than anywhere she had ever lived on Corellia. Her uncle Jed had done his best for her when her parents died, but the man had his own life and a gang to run. Not to mention Corellia wasn’t going through its most hospitable phase to begin with.

She had a space to sleep, a terminal, and just enough space to collect random gear for her side projects. She’d managed to finally get her charging station set up for her R2-like droid, RB-1. He was a combination of several different astromech models into a mostly working droid. She was glad she got to take him with her when she left.

“So RB what do you think?”

She rolled her eyes at the response as she tried to decide if she should unpack her meager personal belongings or not bother. She wasn’t used to staying in one place for too long.

“Why do you always assume I’m going to make a mess of things?” Ayme pushed the duffle bag under the cot deciding to deal with it another day. “I mean come on RB, have a little faith.”

A string of beeps broken only by the random long squeal stopped Ayme dead in her tracks.

“I though we agreed never to speak of that. See if I ever bring you to the cantina again.”

Ayme glanced at the white robe in her closet and sighed. She wasn’t ready to wear something she knew she wouldn’t get five feet without needing to do laundry. She decided to just grab the training saber Jacen had given her and continue to wear her olive green cargo pants and black v-neck shirt.

She turned to RB, “Okay bud, I’m going to see what the deal is with this sparring session I’ve been assigned.”

Just as she reached the door frame the droid decided to speak up.

“For sith’s sake, I’m not going to poke my eye out.” She hit the controls and walked backwards into the corridor. “Anyways, it’s just a training saber-“ Ayme tripped over the door track and nearly collided with a Master who just glared at her over his datapad. She smirked and gave a salute, then bow, then stuck her tongue out at the droid who was slowly shaking his upper torso in disappointment as the door slid shut.

 

[Trix Bastin]

[member="Ayme Katash"]

The hilt of the training saber was a battered thing, dented severely on one side as though it had been used to cave a skull in, scratched up on the other like someone had taken to it with a knife.

Trix tilted the hilt where it rested in the palm of her right hand to examine every bump and curve. It was always strange how...common a weapon could be. No matter if it was an intricately wired rifle, a finely crafted blade or a lump of rotten wood. All could be used to devastating effect in the right hands.

Half the time all it took was will to kill a man. Most of the rest was luck. Some portion of skill. An even tinier portion the choice of weapon. But a fighter had to snap up every chance to control the outcome of a fight, and any boon, no matter how slim, was worth taking advantage of.

She reckoned it was a strange weapon to choose for a scrap when she knew firsthand there were dozens better. The saber left you vulnerable to ranged weapons, even though she’d heard whispered tales of Jedi batting blaster bolts back like a casual game of racketball. It was also virtually weightless, and as such, reliant entirely on the user to generate the force necessary to hack off a limb or a head.

Trix thumbed the ignition switch and shot a beam of pure white light out one end of the hilt. It crackled before her, spitting like a wildcat as she twisted her wrist and weaved it experimentally through the air.

Could still do enough damage on its own…if it wasn’t a beam with training wheels.

A flicker of movement in the corner of her eye was enough to draw Trix’s attention from the saber to the doorway.

A woman was lurking there, round her age, half her blonde hair tumbled about her face and the rest of it pulled back in a messy tail. Katash moved out from under the archway and blinked at her with those wide blue eyes.

Trix blew out a stream of air before speaking. “Is this a fracking joke?”

 

[Ayme Katash]

The training rooms on Sullust reminded Ayme of some of the Dojo's she had seen on Corellia growing up. She never thought she would find herself in such a place. Dojo's were places for calm, focused, study of martial arts. None of those words had ever been associated with Ayme. She found herself absentmindedly walking through the mostly empty halls, tossing the training saber up and watching the unlit hilt spin in the air then fall into her palm. The game was entertaining her for the time being as she waited for to arrive and meet her mysterious training partner.

Her eyes flicked up to the door as she approached it then raised her eyebrow at the blonde woman standing dumbfounded looking at her in the doorway. The universe seemed desperate to push the two women together for some reason. She could attribute such an occurrence to the Force based on what she had been told, but that was too close to faith which was a commodity Ayme never put much stock in.

"Trix, I'm starting to think you're stalking me." Ayme smirked and caught the saber once more before walking over and pausing when her eye caught the training saber on the other padawan's belt. "So I guess it's you and me today, might as well get started then. But first round is so on you when this is over."

[member="Trix Bastin"]

 

[Trix Bastin]

[member="Ayme Katash"]

Trix suppressed a flash of irritation as Katash stalked into the room and took her place opposite her. The consistency with which she was running into the other woman had to be product of manipulation. Talith and Voidstalker, no doubt seeking to create some kind of bond between the pair of them.

Or it’s happening without their guidance.

She jerked her head back slightly at the concept, forcing it to the recesses of her mind. A dangerous thought to have. Particularly so early in the piece…in a new place, surrounded by unfamiliar people.

Clearly the product of too much sleep, or too long without someone trying to kill her.

“It’s cute that you reckon I have a credit to my name,” Trix drawled, examining the woman from head to toe as she stalled. No visible weapons except for the saber, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there, hidden amongst or under the folds of her clothing.

Uncertain what to do with the ignited blade, she let it hang along the length of her right leg, fingers loose around the hilt. She was short enough that the tip of the saber hissed at the close proximity of the training mat bare millimeters away.

Trix raised her left hand and jerked it through her short hair. It wasn’t much of a tell, others rarely noticed it unless they were playing cards with her, but it was as clear a sign of her hesitancy as she’d ever give.

 

[Ayme Katash]

[member="Trix Bastin"]

Ayme smirked at the pale skinned woman. They really did seem to have some kind of connection, but nothing in what she knew about the woman gave a clue to what it could be. Clearly their masters were more aware than either woman or they wouldn't have set this session up. Ayme was never one to patiently contemplate, she leaned towards action. With a flick of her wrist the blue blade of her training saber hummed to life.

Her mind started to catalogue all of the techniques she had been taught as of yet, which didn't take very long. Then her eyes landed on the wrist of her companion as Trix brushed back her pale blonde hair. The room closed in on Ayme suddenly, she could no longer hear the ambient sounds as the world around her faded quickly into a painful ringing in her ears. She stumbled back several steps and dropped her saber.

"Where...why do you...that tattoo." Ayme stuttered through the words trying to find an illusive coherency.

Trix frowned and looked utterly confused by the sudden shift in behavior.

The Black Sun. They had taken everything from her. She heard the stories when she was a child, that her grandparents on both sides were high ranking members. How they wanted her mother and father to join as well, but they wanted a simple life and a family. That was something they were granted until they actually had children, then the Black Sun came for them. Her father was good at hiding and they survived until one night when Ayme was still just a little girl, when the Black Sun stormed into her home and slaughtered her entire family. She hid in the closet, she stayed in the closet for days until her uncle found her.

The pain, the confusion, the terror, it all came screaming back as she glared at Trix's wrist which held a perfect image of the Black Sun. The anger won the day in the end. Ayme pulled the saber from the floor back to her hands, her mind completely forgetting it was just a training saber and lunged at the woman she was convinced was her enemy.

 

[Trix Bastin]

[member="Ayme Katash"]

Trix felt herself frown as the grin on Katash’s face froze, flickered, and then completely vanished. The blood drained from her face and bloomed at the base of her throat. Her eyes widened, the pupils blowing out to completely blacken any trace of blue iris.

Fear.

That niggling sense of imminent danger that had plagued her all her life abruptly flared into a warning klaxon. Trix felt her muscles seize, the edges of the saber hilt cutting into her hand as her fingers tightened.

Katash was stumbling backwards, her gaze fixed on something below and to the left of Trix. A torrent of half formed words were falling from her lips. Half gasped, barely audible over the distance between them.

Trix felt her gust twist. She flicked her own eyes down, following the path of Katash’s focus, and rotated her left hand until the palm was facing outwards.

Her tattoo gleamed back at her, five by five inches, the slightly raised edges jet black against her pale skin. Two circles, one small and solid, the other surrounding its partner with jagged spikes flaring outwards like spikes on a wheel.

The effect on Katash was instantaneous. The other woman snapped up her training saber where it had fallen on the ground, thumbed it back to life, and charged towards her with a strangled half-groan.

Trix managed to raise her own saber up, curling both hands around the grip, and angled the blade up and across her body in a defensive stance.

It was only a matter of time.

She felt her face twitch at the thought, surprised at the answering wave of disappointment that burst open in her chest.

You can never escape the Black Sun.

 

[Ayme Katash]

[member="Trix Bastin"]

Circling, flashing light, and the salty taste of sweat as it rolled down to her lips. Ayme's mind had gone back to the most basic of instincts, the most primitive of feelings as she fought the demon before her. It wasn't a demon though, it was Trix. This confusing woman that seemed to exist only to provide snarky commentary and complain as she inevitably looked for a fight before she may have to enter into a conversation.

She tried to remember the first time she heard of the Black Sun, and was rewarded with a flash of her mother and father arguing. They yelled about so few things, but that was the one topic that never failed to send tempers flaring. Her mother was convinced they were in danger, her father knew they needed to keep running. That duality of reality was still part of Ayme, she still fought against the illusion of safety and the apathy of running.

Ayme slashed a downward strike hard then quickly reversed her momentum, sending the blonde woman on the devensive.

Why? Why now? They haven't bothered in years, they think I'm dead for siths sake.... Ayme growled at her own internal doubts. She just wanted to believe everything was fine, that she wasn't in danger. She wanted to stay on Sullust, to continue her training, but her mind couldn't deny the facts. Trix shows up the same day Ayme arrives on Sullust, she seems disinterested yet stays, and now every training session seems to inexplicably feature the two women. Its gotta be a trap.

She fought with renewed vigor, saw an opening and landed a right hook sending Trix to the floor. The woman started to scramble to her feet and was halted by a loud voice. "Stop!" Ayme lowered her blade but did not disengage it. "One chance Trix. Are you working for the Black Sun?"

You idiot. What are you doing? Ayme blew her hair out of her eyes again. Not now brain.

 

[Trix Bastin]

[member="Ayme Katash"]

Trix would have tried to reason with Katash...if she'd had the breath to form words.

The woman was all over her, swinging her saber as though it was a gravsled, raining blows at her head, chest and legs.

All Trix could do was retreat under the fury of the sudden onslaught, battling with the unfamiliar and unbalanced weight of the training saber. In light of her inexperience she was forced to rely heavily on her reflexes and speed to stay clear of the other blade.

Katash let out another snarl, her face twisted into a rictus of pain, and came at her again.

Trix managed to twist under the first slice and catch the reverse second swing on her flailing saber. The third blow caught her squarely across her left hipbone, sending a sudden jolt of pain sizzling through her nervous system.

Trix bit out a curse, arched her spine, and promptly dropped her guard.

The world exploded into pure white light.

A few disorienting seconds swept past before the light spotted back into fragments of colour. The room about Trix slowly swam into focus. She was crumpled on the ground, the iron tang of blood strong in her mouth, both hands outstretched before her and clutching at empty air.

In any other engagement the calmer side of Trix may have appreciated such a solid right hook. She might have even taken note of the technique, or been impressed by the loose teeth she could feel shifting under her tongue.

But having been clonked in the face during a supposedly friendly sparring session by a mad Corellian without any provocation on her part...

Trix was well past staying calm.

She rose to her feet like smoke, breath heaving a fiery path through her chest. Empty fingers spasmed into fists at her side. Blood spattered down from her mouth in time to the wild thumping of her heart.

Katash had lowered her blade and was saying something. The words, if they even reached Trix, were lost in the fierce buzzing that had filled her ears.

After days of forced meditation, garden strolls and light exercise, the beast within her had been chomping at the bit. She let it free now, her anger emerging from her chest as a deep growl that shifted into a throaty roar.

Trix sprinted forwards, ducked her head, and launched herself on the other Padawan.

 

[Ayme Katash]

Ayme landed on the ground with a thud and felt her hand slam into the stone floor just before the sound of the lightsaber clanking away indicated her situation. Her face contorted in confusion as her eyes tried to focus on the woman now holding her down. A fist slammed into the side of her face quickly followed by its twin in quick succession.

The world stirred and dissolved into a typhoon of pain as Ayme felt her cheeks swell between blows. Her mind attempted to wonder, if only to escape the pain and confusion. She tried to reason what was happening, if Trix was only an instrument, if her supposed masters were in on the plot. It all seemed so logical and so outlandish all at the same time. Her mind occolating between two scenarios that seemed to be fighting themselves for pole position.

She finally decided that this current position was not helping her thought process. With a growl and several incomprehensible curses Ayme kicked up her legs enough to throw the women off balance and allow her to twist them both. Her new position allowed her to pin Trix's arms above her head. "Okay seriously, enough!"

Blood trickled down Ayme's face to her neck and had began to soak through her training robes. She could feel the swelling in the flesh around her eyes and knew the evidence of their "sparring" session would be obvious to all who saw them. "Trix I'm really trying to give you a chance to explain. But I am losing my damn patience. Black Sun. Do you work for them?"

[member="Trix Bastin"]

 

[Trix Bastin]

[member="Ayme Katash"]

The crack of her knuckles on flesh was so familiar it was almost soothing. The sharp jab of pain, the click of bones grinding together, and the violent vibration up her arm.

This. This was what she knew. What she had lived and breathed for ten years.

Survival through strength.

Trix hissed through her teeth and slammed her right fist down to follow her left. There was blood misting in the air. The sour stench of sweat.

She breathed it in. Revelled in it.

The momentary lapse in concentration was all Katash needed. The Corellian lashed out with her legs, slammed a booted foot solidly into her stomach, and sent Trix flying onto the training mat.

Trix involuntarily curled in to protect her damaged ribs, her breath whooshing from her lungs. Katash clambered on her, pinned her arms above her head, and jabbed one knee into her stomach to hold her still.

"Okay seriously," Katash snarled. "Enough!"

If she'd tried calm reasoning it wouldn't have registered. But even a rabid beast can recognise a clear show of dominance.

Trix blinked, blinked again, and felt the tight ball of rage in her chest recede slightly.

"Trix, I'm really trying to give you a chance here." Katash was still speaking, growling the words through gritted teeth as she fought to hold the smaller woman. "But I am losing my damn patience."

Her bloodied face swayed above Trix, blonde hair hanging limply, the right eye almost completely swollen shut. "Black Sun," Katash spat. "Do you work for them?"

Trix stilled under her. Every instinct was screaming at her to toss Katash off. To hold her down. To kill her.

No room for mercy in a man.

Not her words, but words she'd learned to live by nonetheless.

The next thought was hers, a mantra that was almost lost in the frantic pounding of her pulse in her ears.

Remember Dantooine.

It was like dumping a bucket of cold water in her face.

Trix allowed her head to thud back onto the mat. Her muscles abruptly relaxed, becoming completely limp in Katash's grip. The rage bled from her as quickly as it had bloomed.

"I did." Trix said.

She could feel the aches of the fight now, the throb of her knuckles, the swelling of her face and the shooting pain of her bruised ribs.

"But I left," she continued, the words barely a whisper. Felt strange to say them out loud. Felt strange that someone had actually asked.

"Didn't want to be a part of it anymore." Trix said. She paused, swallowed, tasted her own blood. "Didn't feel right."

"Didn't...didn't feel much of anything after a while."

 

[Ayme Katash]

[member="Trix Bastin"]

"Didn't feel much of anything after awhile."

Ayme stared at the woman then spat a few curse words under her breath and started to pace. She had screwed up again. Let her anger get the better of her, again. Acted like an impulsive ass, again. "You know they killed them, all of them."

Trix frowned but kept silent as she watched the other woman continue to fidget as she paced. Ayme ran a hand through her short hair and continued. "I was just a kid, we were eating dinner, and they came in and killed them. My mother, father, sisters, all of them." She yelled the last few words in a painful fury then threw the training saber across the room. She took long deep breaths in an attempt to calm her beating heart and placed her hands on her knees, bending slightly at the waist.

"My uncle," she continued in a hushed voice. "He found me hiding in a closet, covered in blood. Not mine. No clue how I got like that. I...shit I don't remember. I didn't speak for two years after that."

With a sigh she uprighted herself and stared at a seam in the wall. "I'm sorry." She closed her eyes then turned towards the entry making her way out of the room. She had no clue where she was going she just knew she needed to get out of there before it all fell apart. Trix would report her, they would send her packing, she just wanted a few more minutes before all hell broke loose.

 

[Trix Bastin]

[member="Ayme Katash"]

Trix managed to get one knee under her. She swayed in place, swallowed a bitter mouthful of blood, then peered out from under her dishevelled mop of hair at Katash.

She had known what the other woman would say before she said it. At the first telltale twist of terror on Ayme's features when she'd noted the mark of the Sun. Not the common reaction of those who recognised the symbol for what it represented, the flicker of superstitious fear generated by the ghoulish stories that swept across the galaxy.

No, Katash's reaction had been the numbing, utterly consuming, terror of a victim.

Trix managed to get another knee under her as the words poured from Katash.

Her mother. Father. Siblings. All swept away in a moment.

Katash, still breathing, but scarred deep beneath muscle and tendon with the burden of her survival.

It was a story as old, as familiar, as the fae tales recited to children. A story that waxed and waned throughout the ages, with a myriad of different villains taking centre stage depending on the time and audience to which it was told.

A story in which Trix herself had been a willing actor.

"I'm sorry." Katash said, her body physically deflating as the rage and fear drained away. Her chin dipped, her shoulders curling in as she turned to go.

"Wait."

Trix's voice rang out across the room, seeming unnaturally loud in the tense silence.

She opened her mouth, the words of an apology sticking in her throat like tar. An apology from her would be the absolute height of hypocrisy.

Instead she clamped her mouth shut and rose slowly to her feet. She slid her fingers beneath her top, pulled the small silver flask secreted there free, and held it out in offer.

Her hand was shaking.