Without a word, he climbed up the cellar's small ladder until he stood beside her inside the shack. He looked to be in his late forties, a thin man of average height. He had straight black hair that hung down to his shoulders, and his skin was brown and leathery from a decade of exposure to Ambria's burning sun. There was nothing about his appearance to suggest he was a man of power or importance, yet Zannah could sense his calm inner strength.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked him.
"I've known ever since you and your Master built your camp on this world," he said quietly.
"And you know why I'm here?"
"I sensed you coming. That was why I hid."
She peeked down into the cellar, noting that it contained a number of small shelves lined with bottles, bags, jars, and pouches that held the medicines and healing compounds he used in his vocation. There were also a number of ration kits piled in one corner, along with a handful of small, square supply containers.
"When did you build that?" she asked, curious.
"Shortly after my previous encounter with your Master," he answered. "I feared he would one day come back, and I wanted a place for my daughter to hide."
The man suddenly smiled at her, though there was no joy or mirth in the expression.
"But now my daughter has grown," he told her. "She has left this world, never to return. And you have no power over me."
"Are you saying you will not help my Master?" Zannah asked, not even bothering to put a threat into her voice.
"There is nothing you can do to compel me this time," he replied, and she sensed a deep satisfaction in his tone. She realized he had been preparing for this day for over ten years.
"The war between the Jedi and Sith is over," Zannah told him. "My Master is no longer a soldier. He is just an ordinary man who needs your help."
The man smiled again, flashing his teeth in a feral grin. "Your Master will never be ordinary. Though soon enough he will be dead."
One glance down at the man's hand, permanently scarred by the burns he had given himself plunging it into the boiling soup, made Zannah dismiss any ideas of using torture to change his mind. And she knew that any attempt to dominate his mind with the Force would fail; his will was too strong for her to bend it to her needs. "I can give you credits. You'll be richer than you can possibly imagine."
He waved his hands around at the austere little shack. "What use are credits to a man like me?"
"What about your daughter?" Zannah countered. "Think of how much easier her life could be."
"Even if I wanted to let my child take your blood payment, I could never find a way to get it to her. For her own protection, I insisted she change her name when she left this world. I do not know what she is called now; I do not know where she has gone."
Zannah chewed her lip, then tried something desperate. "If you do not help my Master I will hunt your daughter down. I will find her, torture her, and kill her," she vowed, carefully hitting each word for emphasis. "But first I will make her watch as I torture and kill every other person she cares about."
Caleb smirked, amused at her empty threat. "Go, then. Seek her out and leave me alone. We both know you will never find her."
Again, he had her. With no name and not even a physical description, it would be impossible to track down one woman who could be on any of a million Republic worlds.
Scowling, Zannah glanced once more down at his scarred hand. It stood as mute testament to the fact she couldn't break him through raw physical pain, no matter how brutal. But with no other options left, she decided to try anyway.
She reached out with the Force and picked Caleb up. His feet dangled only a few centimeters off the floor, yet his head brushed against the shack's low, slanted roof. She began to squeeze, applying pressure directly to his internal organs, slowly crushing them as she inflicted an agonizing pain few beings had ever experienced. She was careful to leave his lungs alone, however-allowing him enough air to breath and speak.
"You know how to make this end," she said coldly. "Say you will heal my Master."
He grunted and gasped in pain, but shook his head.
"Zannah! What are you doing?"
Darovit had come into the shack, curious as to what was taking her so long. Now he stood in the doorway, staring in horror at the scene.
"Stop it!" he shouted at her. "You're killing him! Put him down!"
With a sharp growl of frustration she released her grip, letting Caleb fall to the floor. Darovit rushed to his side to see if he was okay, but the older man shook his head and waved him away. He rose to his hands and knees, then settled back onto his heels, his hands resting on his thighs as he took slow, deep breaths.
Darovit turned on her. "What did you do that for?" he demanded angrily.
"He refused to help us," she said, her voice more defensive than she meant it to be.
"I will not release that monster on the galaxy a second time," Caleb declared, his teeth still clenched against the lingering effects of Zannah's torture. "There is nothing you can do to make me save him."
Zannah dropped to one knee beside him. "I can use my powers to conjure up your worst nightmares and bring them to life before your eyes," she whispered. "I can drive you mad with fear, shred your sanity, and leave you a raving lunatic for the rest of your life."
Darovit just stared at her, shocked by her words. Caleb only smiled his infuriating smile.
"If you do," the healer calmly replied, "your Master will still die." Zannah chewed her lip, glaring at him. Then she leapt to her feet and stormed out of the cabin, leaving Darovit and Caleb alone.
Chapter 23
Fuming, Zannah stomped her way across the sand between Caleb's shack and the edge of the camp, where her Master lay on the hover gurney
She checked the monitor attached to the gurney's side, getting a reading of his vitals. He was still alive, but fading fast. Soon he would be gone, taking all his knowledge and secrets with him.
She was standing over the gurney when Darovit emerged from the shack several minutes later. He crossed the camp to stand beside her, gazing down at Bane.
"When he goes," he said, offering his cousin words of condolence, "at least he'll go peacefully."
"Peace is a lie!" Zannah snarled back. "It doesn't matter if you die in your sleep or on the battlefield, dead is still dead."
"At least he's not feeling any pain," Darovit replied, tossing out another meaningless platitude.
"If you feel pain," she answered, "it means you're still alive. Give me pain over peace any day."
"I never thought I'd hear you say that, Zannah," Darovit said sadly, shaking his head, "Can't you see what he's made you become?" He made me become a Sith, she thought. Out loud she said, "He made me strong. He gave me power."
"Is that all you care about now, Zannah? Power?"
"Through power I gain victory, and through victory my chains are broken."
"Power doesn't always bring victory," Darovit countered. "Even with all the power you have, you couldn't make Caleb help you"
Bane would have found a way, she thought bitterly, but didn't say anything.
"I understand what happened to you" her cousin said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "You were just a kid. Scared. Alone. Bane found you and took you in. I understand your loyalty to him. I understand why you care about him."
Zannah shook his hand off and turned to stare at him with an expression of wide-eyed disbelief. "I'm a Sith. I don't care about anyone but myself."
"You care about me." Zannah didn't reply, refusing to be drawn again into the same argument they'd had on the way to Tython.
"You don't want to admit it" Darovit pressed, "but I know you care about me. And about your Master, too. Your actions prove that, no matter what you say. But Caleb's right, you know. Bane's a monster; we can't let him go free.
"But he doesn't necessarily have to die," he added. "What do you mean?" Zannah said, suddenly wary. "I spoke with Caleb. He thinks you're a monster, too. But he doesn't know you like I do. You're not a monster, Zannah… but you'll become one if you let anger and hate rule your life."