Heavy Is The Head

[Darth Tagus]

The holonet announcements had been about an hour ago, if he had to guess.

The crew had obeyed him with their usual gusto and they were now pointing towards Korriban with intent. At the moment they hadn't gone to hyperspace but that was only because they were making sure to avoid any routes that were suspected of being monitored.

Was it paranoid? Undoubtedly.

Was it necessary? Unlikely.

Was he going to complain about the extra time? Never.

Standing in front of his fresher's mirror, Tagus wiped the water from his face with a hand as he stared into his own eyes. They were just as deep and as yellow and as tainted as they had been for months; no change. He never expected a change but ever since his eyes had begun to change to yellow he had made it a little ritual to check them regularly after exiting the fresher's shower.

An honest to god water shower on a ship; there were some benefits to his position and one of them was the ability to be a little bit 'extra' when he wanted to be.

Moving into his room, he idly used the Force to fill a tumbler with a measure of whiskey from a decanter he kept. If the 'Force' was a little heavy handed with the whiskey measure, he didn't mind as he threw on some light clothes before coming to sit in the chair at his desk.

At rest.

The tumbler of whiskey moved across the desk to rest in the palm of his hand and Tagus just looked out his window at the stars for a moment. He didn't drink, he didn't speak and he tried his best to not even think for a moment.

He tried his best to just exist for a moment before reality set in again and his mind was awash with thoughts, with the worries and the excitement and the ever present hunger of the Dark Side.

For perhaps the first time in a long time, Tagus voluntarily thought of Nikka. He brushed past his own, half-hearted, mental blocks on his memories of her and he thought about his wife. He thought about what she would think if she could see the state of the Galaxy.

The state of him.

What he was about to become.

And, for the only time, Zeven Visz was glad his wife was dead.

He drank deeply.