A revisiting of this scene for Oryon’s canon. The starfighter wreck referenced at the end comes from this post, though of course in this canon, Lathril never became Sith.
Author’s Note
The three of them stood in silence on Bonadan’s surface. The dingy light shone off a refinery in the distance, flashing as the parts of the huge Imperial machine moved unceasingly. Here up on a natural bluff, though, the wind was cold, and it stank. Fitting, Lathril thought, for the mission that would end here, one way or another.
A Mirialan Padawan stood beside him, but didn’t touch him; the shackles on his wrists were tight and did all the restraining necessary. The trembling in Lathril’s legs was real: exhaustion and pain, not nerves. He had commanded the Padawan Dra’jek to beat him to make it look convincing. He hoped he had only imagined the grim satisfaction in Dra’jek’s eyes as he had done it.
And now the rogue Jedi Lathril had been hunting was tantalizingly close. Karse’s expression was half-hidden, as usual, behind the Miraluka blindfold, but what was visible was twisted into a sad smile, that disappeared as the two of them hobbled into earshot.
“As promised,” said Lathril. “You will take me prisoner in exchange for sparing Darth Raake’s life.”
“There is no negotiating with Sith,” said Karse, and then he turned to Dra’jek. “Well done, Padawan. We can use your mistake now to our advantage.”
“Why are we breaking our word?” asked Dra’jek, his voice with a new guardedness that hadn’t been there before Lathril had spoken to him. He hoped that meant the Padawan now believed him about Karse’s true Dark Sided nature, but he wasn’t sure.
“It is our purpose to eradicate the Sith wherever they are, Dra’jek. You were in the belly of the beast and you saw the truth of this one. He and many like him would see the Sith continue their ravage of the galaxy. It does not matter whether it is misguided loyalty, ambition, or greed. It cannot be allowed. Sacrifices must be made.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Dra’jek, and the life had gone out of his voice.
“End this,” said Karse, and he gestured to Lathril, like he was a thing, not a person. “Then we can move on to tackling the Darth together.”
Dra’jek turned to Lathril, igniting his lightsaber. The blade beamed blue from the Padawan’s hands, and Dra’jek stared at it for a moment, as if it was some kind of betrayal, some kind of question he’d never answered or had even thought to ask, some anomaly that could not be.
Lathril’s eye met with his briefly. In the Mirialan’s amber irises Lathril saw himself reflected. His face was bruised from their recent fight; his white, half-length robes torn and dirty, like a weak imitation of a Jedi’s purity; his missing eye and the Imperial cybernetic in its socket cutting across his face like a scar across the Jedi’s Code, one that could never be truly healed.
No, not the Code, Lathril suddenly thought. Only across their interpretation of it: all three.
“Why are you waiting?” said Karse. “Kill him.”
Like an automaton, Dra’jek wordlessly lifted the lightsaber high over Lathril’s head, no longer looking at him, but instead looking at the ground in front of him. Lathril closed his eye. Time stopped. Choices stretched ahead of him, into blind darkness and blinding light. He couldn’t see which choice led to which. Splitting anxiety tore into his chest.
He was stronger than the Padawan. He could kill him with a twist of the Force: a clench around the neck or a flick into a vital organ. He had never done it before, but he knew with sudden certainty he had the capability.
But Dra’jek trusted him. And he had given his word, that he would not lift a finger to defend himself, that the choice would be the Padawan’s, once Dra’jek was satisfied with the truth of what Lathril claimed.
But did Lathril trust Dra’jek?
Yes.
The lightsaber came down.
The shackles fell off Lathril’s wrists, cleaved in two.
And time started up again.
“Make sacrifices — like me?” said Dra’jek in a choked voice. “I did see the truth of this one, but I also saw the truth of you! You are the darkness, Karse!”
The Padawan then pressed his lightsaber into Lathril’s hand, still not looking at him. “As I promised you, I won’t help you do this. I-I can’t.”
“I know,” said Lathril. “The sacrifice of my innocence is a willing one. That’s the real difference.”
Dra’jek was gone before he could answer or Lathril could even get a glimpse of his expression. He instead turned to face Karse, who had ignited his own blade, a sun-like yellow.
The rogue struck first, his saber drawing a ragged line of pain down Lathril’s back. The air seemed to slam into his ears: it wasn’t Telekinesis, but disbelief.
I condemn you, false Jedi! He didn’t say it, but the conviction seemed to seize him up and take over like an animal out of the back of his head. He didn’t remember the rest of the fight, though it passed with chess-like exactingness in the moment, his intellect like a bitter white knife, slicing away the movements that would lead to victory. In that, he saw he was alike to Karse, but he didn’t stop to examine it. He had a job to do.
At the end, he stood over the defeated rogue. He was vaguely aware of Dra’jek watching him, like a timid shadow, in the background. A Jedi would grant mercy over a bested foe, he thought. But was Lathril still a Jedi?
His blue blade cut Karse’s throat. Then it fell from nerveless fingers, never to ignite again. The circuitry had burned out. He raised his head to catch Dra’jek’s eye then.
“I have something for you, for the Jedi Council,” croaked Lathril, digging around in his ruined robe and holding out a datacard. “It’s my testimony of what happened here. I won’t be coming back with you to the Republic.”
“I knew you wouldn’t,” said Dra’jek.
“Are satisfied with the truth of Karse now?”
“Yes,” said Dra’jek, softer, looking at him.
This time, Lathril saw a titan reflected in the Padawan’s eyes, some being of incomprehensible stature, but almost immediately, the spell was broken. Spent adrenalin made Lathril weak, and he wanted to faint, but something told him he could not, not upfront of the Padawan. What Dra’jek had to learn was more important than a few moments of his lightheaded agony.
“Thank you,” said Dra’jek finally. “I’ll go back, face justice for what I’ve done. This was supposed to be my last trial for the Knighthood, you know. I guess that’s pretty much a crapshoot now.”
“No matter what anyone else says, you’ll always be a Jedi Knight to me,” said Lathril softly.
Dra’jek stared at him, then slowly bowed as a smile crept on his face. “And you, a Jedi, Master Sunwalker. I won’t let them forget you.”
It was a statement later echoed when Dra’jek pulled Lathril from the wreck of a starfighter, crashed while fending off pirates. Lathril hadn’t wanted to leave the Empire, but he hadn’t been in any condition to protest.
When he finally was, Dra’jek used the same line. “I won’t let anyone forget – that you are still one of us, Sunwalker.”