Sirak was moving gingerly. He'd spent the past thirty-six hours in a bacta tank, and though his injuries were completely healed, his body still instinctively reacted to the memories of the wounds inflicted by Bane's saber. Slowly, he gathered up his personal effects, anxious to return to the familiar surroundings of his own room and leave the solitude of the medcenter behind.
One of the med droids floated in, bringing him a pair of pants, a shirt, and a dark apprentice's robe. The clothes smelled of disinfectant; it was common practice to sterilize everything before bringing it into the medcenter. The garments fit, but he knew as soon as he put them on that they had never been worn before.
He hadn't seen a single being other than the med droids since being carried unconscious from the dueling ring. Nobody had come to checkup on him while he'd floated in the healing fluid: not Qordis, not Kas'im, not even Llokay or Yevra. He didn't blame them.
The Sith despised weakness and failure. Whenever apprentices lost in the dueling ring, they were left alone with the shame of their defeat until strong enough to resume their studies. It happened to everyone sooner or later… except it had never before happened to Sirak.
He had been invincible, untouchable, the top apprentice in every discipline. He'd heard the rumors and the whispers. They called him the Sith'ari, the perfect being. Only they wouldn't be calling him the Sith'ari now. Not after what Bane had done to him.
He turned to the door and found Githany standing there, watching him. 'What do you want?' he asked warily.
He knew who she was, though he'd never actually spoken to her. On the day of her arrival he'd identified her as a potential threat. He'd watched her, and he'd seen her watching him, each measuring and gauging the other, trying to determine who had the upper hand. Sirak was wary of all potential challengers, or so he had thought, until the one student he'd feared the least had brought him down.
'I came to speak to you,' she answered. 'About Bane.'
He twitched involuntarily at the name, then cursed himself for his reaction. If Githany had noticed, she gave no indication.
'What about him?' he asked curtly.
'I'm curious as to what your plans are now. How are you going to handle this situation?'
It was a struggle to summon up his old arrogance, yet somehow he managed a satisfactory sneer. 'My plans are my own.'
'Are you going to seek revenge?' she pressed.
'In time, perhaps,' he finally admitted.
'I can help you.'
She took a step farther into the room. Even in that single step Sirak could see that she moved with the sensual grace of a Zeltron veil dancer. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 'Why?'
'I helped Bane defeat you,' she said. 'I recognized his potential from the moment I first saw him. When Qordis and the other Masters turned their backs on him, I secretly taught him their lessons in the Force. I knew the dark side was strong in him. Stronger than in me. Stronger than in you. Maybe even stronger than in the Masters themselves.'
Sirak couldn't see the point of her story. 'You still haven't answered my question. You got what you wanted out of Bane. Why help me now?'
She shook her head sadly. 'I was wrong about Bane. I thought if helped him grow stronger, he would embrace the dark side. Then I could learn from him and gain power of my own. But he is incapable of embracing the dark side. Everyone else believes his triumph over you was a great victory. Only I recognized it as a failure.'
She was toying with him. Mocking him. And he didn't like it. 'No one ever beat me in the dueling ring before Bane!' he snapped. 'How can you call him a failure?'
'You're still alive,' she said simply. 'When the moment came to strike you down and end your life, he hesitated. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He was weak.'
Intrigued, Sirak didn't respond right away. Instead he waited for her to elaborate.
'He plotted and planned for months to take his revenge on you,' she continued. 'His hate gave him the strength to surpass you… and at the last instant he showed mercy and let you live.'
'I left him alive at the end of our first duel,' Sirak reminded her.
'That was no act of mercy, it was an act of contempt. You thought you had utterly destroyed him. If you knew he would rise up to one day challenge you again, you would have taken his life regardless of the rules of the Academy.
'You underestimated him. A mistake I know you won't make again. But Bane does not underestimate you. He knows you are powerful enough to represent a true threat. Yet still he left you alive, knowing you would one day seek revenge against him. He is either a weakling or a fool,' she concluded, 'and I want no part of either.'
There was some truth in what she said, but Sirak still wasn't convinced. 'You change allegiances too quickly, Githany. Even for a Sith.' She was silent for a long time, trying to figure out how to answer him. Then suddenly she looked down at the floor, and when she looked up her eyes were filled with shame and humiliation.
'It was Bane who ended this alliance, not me,' she admitted, nearly choking on the words. 'He abandoned me,' she continued, making no attempt to hide her bitterness. 'He left the Academy. He never told me why. He never even said good-bye.'
Suddenly everything fell into place. Sirak understood her sudden desire to join with him in a partnership against her former ally. Githany was used to being in control. She was used to being in charge. She was used to being the one who ended things. And she didn't like being on the other side.
It was like the old Corellian expression: Fear the wrath of a female scorned.
