Post by Darth Xaos on Apr 28, 2015 0:35:38 GMT
Opening note: This short story ties together elements from a plot line that can be read in the following threads: 1) freeforums.heirsofthsith.com/glp-congressional-hall-t1182.html , 2) freeforums.heirsofthsith.com/new-aldera-royal-palace-t1215.html , 3) freeforums.heirsofthsith.com/med-bay-t308.html Read them in the order listed; the first thread can be read from post #1, the second begins its relevant posts from the third post and the third thread begins its relation to this story with the fourth post.
Coruscant, 01:33, local time
Darren Callat had never been properly introduced to paranoia until he began serving his sentence in the Alliance Judiciary Central Detention Center. Prior to this he had thought himself at least somewhat acquainted with this emotion; that the nervousness he felt when constantly looking over his shoulder after committing a crime was equivalent. He now knew how wrong he had been. In this prison he had learned the real meaning of paranoia. The facility was designed in a circular manner, with all the cells facing inwards towards a central spire; from which any guard might be observing any prisoner at any time. This set up inevitably left all the prisoners, including Callat, convinced that they were being watched at all times.
Perhaps it was this paranoia that caused him to awake as he heard the subtle woosh of a hover-platform approaching his cell. The device docked and the cell’s energy field lowered, admitting several prison guards. Before Darren could ask what was happening, they seized him and moved him onto platform. After he was aboard the grim demeanor of the guards was a further deterrent to offering questions. At first he assumed that this occurrence was surprising but also that he would soon have a mundane explanation for it. But, after the platform entered the prison’s service tunnels, a whole new wave of paranoia crept in.
Darren had heard stories from the other inmates, stories about prisoners being taken in the night and never being seen again. The explanations varied wildly with each storyteller. The Department of Justice was killing off inmates to free up money for the war. The guards were selling the inmates to the Hutts as slaves. The prisoners’ organs were being harvested. These were just a few of the often outlandish explanations for the unexplained phenomenon. As the realization dawned on Darren that he was about to find out, first hand, the truth behind these rumors, he attained a truly deep understanding of the phrase, ‘ignorance is bliss.’
Within an hour, the prisoner had been loaded onto a small, unmarked an unremarkable freighter and was being flown out of the planet’s atmosphere. The vessel passed through the heightened Coruscant orbital security without event and made its way to a patch of asteroids within the star system’s confines. It was only then that the guards came to collect Callat from his uncomfortable accommodations in the cargo hold. As he was marched through the freighter and into an umbilical connecting it with an unknown ship, Darren’s fear intensified. Sweat was running down his face in rivulets before he even set foot in the other vessel.
Even Callat’s ‘escort’ seemed somewhat surprised by what they found waiting for them; there was only a single individual present to greet them. The human woman was short and built slightly yet athletically. As the trio consisting of prisoner and guards first beheld the woman they were all a bit stunned. All had been expecting much heavier crew to take possession of Callat. The woman, however, either took no notice or did not care about the men’s surprise and brusquely pressed a container, laden with GA credits, into one of the guard’s hands.
“Uh, miss, do you want us to secure the prisoner for you?” one of the crooked prison guards asked, looking downward at her, “He might be just a petty thug but he’s still dangerous.”
“You have delivered what I asked for and received your payment, now go,” the woman replied and, in that moment, the guard felt as though she were towering over him rather than the other way around.
Eagerly, the two free men retreated back into their shuttle, leaving their prisoner alone with his purchaser. The woman motioned for Darren to follow her and he did not attempt to defy or question. For a moment, as it dawned on him that her back was turned as they walked, he considered attacking. But, he quickly realized, even if his hands were not presently bound behind his back, he didn’t dare. He had looked into the woman’s eyes as she spoke to his former captors and in their blue-grey depths he had seen the soul of a remorseless and experienced killer.
Soon Darren found himself again inside a freighter’s cargo hold. The woman motioned for him to sit and, again, he obeyed without resistance. Within a moment she was sitting across from him and he was once more looking into those terrifying eyes. For several more moments she stared at him saying nothing, it was only when Callat realized that he had become physically incapable of looking away that he began to notice something…wrong inside him. He struggled, his panic growing, as he felt the woman penetrating his very mind. Though no experience in his life had ever led him to believe such a thing was possible, he knew without a doubt that the alien tendrils of consciousness he now felt burrowing into the depths of his psyche were her doing.
“Don’t struggle, it will only hurt more if you do,” the woman said and, with a shock of fright, Darren realized that she had never moved her lips and was speaking directly into his mind.
The young man could hardly follow this advice; he was caught up in a horror he could have never imagined as he felt his memories being slowly, agonizingly dredged away. And, into the blank spaces this process left, other memories were being forcibly inserted. Memories about a giant, wheel-shaped space station, a planet called Almania and the various mannerisms and standard behaviors of that planet’s representative. Slowly, he was being hollowed out and filled with a thousand alien recollections and subconscious programs. Darren Callat began to howl a blood-curdling scream; it would be the last act he ever performed of his own free will.
New Bethrezen, thirty-six standard hours later
Leo Zelona, Representative for the planet Almania in the GLP Congress, heaved a heavy yet relieved sigh as he fell back into his armchair and removed his boots. Today had been one of the ‘perfect storms’ of tedium that sometimes rolled through the Congress. Controversy over the topic being discussed combined with the near-total insignificance of the topic being discussed (namely whether a minor shipping route fell under the authority of the Quarren Isolation League or the Tion Hegemony) to render the afternoon utterly unbearable. But now that he was back in his quiet apartments overlooking one of the many parks in the governmental quarter, he intended to forget about it as quickly as possible.
The representative’s plans, however, were interrupted by a sound coming from near the kitchen. Leo was a man well acquainted with vigilance and he knew the difference between an object falling or architecture settling and noise caused by an intruder. Rising from his reclined position, Leo grabbed one of his blaster pistols and began a cautious sweep of his home. Focusing on listening, he heard the sound of soft, subdued breathing coming from around a corner. Bursting around the bend, he leveled his gun to where he knew the interloper to be standing but, when he found himself face-to-face with *himself*, he failed to pull the trigger and unwittingly lowered his blaster in confusion. Before the representative could say a word, his doppelganger lunged forward, opening the Almanian’s throat with a kitchen knife. As Leo Zelona rapidly bled to death, the double who had once been Darren Callat dragged him away.
Khar Shian, a standard week later
The sound of flimisplast smacking against flimsiplast sounded sharply through the high ceilings of Plejada Alkis Kressh iv-Sarasashi’s fortress as he flipped through a stack of handwritten reports. Without warning, his desk’s holoprojector activated, displaying a figure swathed in a heavy cloak. The fact that this transmission had initiated without Plejada’s command or an announcement of an incoming message told him that this human woman (or so he guessed based on what he could see under the hood she wore) had sliced into his system.
“Labinatias, vik’difas Zhej’ari Kressh,” the woman hailed Plejada in Sithese with near-perfect inflection and pronunciation.
“And who are you that would dare to intrude on my work?” Plejada responded, showing his contempt by speaking in Basic.
“Who I am is unimportant,” she responded coolly, “What matters is what I can offer you.”
“And, pray tell, what exactly can you offer me?” Plejada sneered, “Except peace and quiet by leaving me be, I mean.”
“Everything you want,” came the woman’s blunt reply.
“Ha!” Plejada bellowed, causing him to wheeze slightly, “You have the audacity of a sand mite climbing up a behemoth’s leg with the intention of rape! Why should I believe for a second that you can provide me with anything?”
“I’m speaking to you on a channel that until this moment youconsidered to be secure and secret, am I not?” she explained, “I believe your Clan has a saying, ‘Tave zygis kash tave irodymas’.”
“All you’ve offered evidence of is that you’re either a skilled slicer or have access to one,” he snorted, “That can be said of a multitude of individuals.”
“And is it common knowledge that you are conspiring with Asmenys Graush to take covert control of the Red Sith Empire?”
“It is a reasonable enough conclusion for anyone to reach. Were this an era where political ability was not a rare commodity then I would go so far to say that any fool could deduce that.”
“And can any fool deduce that you have an agent in Dabotish Sadow’s court?”
“I grow tired of this! You tell me nothing that…”
“An agent named Ziurti Sek iv-Mul; an agent that Dabotish unwittingly welcomed into his employ to discover if there is any truth behind the rumors that his wife is unfaithful to him. Rumors that were first spread by other operatives with purses full of Kressh gold.”
Plejada sat in stunned silence for a moment with his mouth slightly agape as his blood began to run cold. Even if this woman had somehow managed to discover one of the two facts that she had just mentioned, there should have been no way for her to know both. He had been so careful, built so many false leads and double-blind security measures into his plan. The tenor of the conversation had utterly changed in that moment of silence.
“Oh, good, that got your attention,” the woman cooed with a note of triumph in her voice.
“When you say ‘everything I want’…what is it exactly you think I want?” Kressh asked tentatively.
“Let me put it this way: follow my instructions over the coming days and you and your crony Graush will be the Clans’ emperors is all but name. You will control the entirety of the Khar shipyards; Graush will control the new imperial military and the line of succession and, between the two of you, will control the Clans’ conclave.”
“And why are you so interested in seeing this come to pass?”
“Let’s just say that taking direct control of the Red Sith out of the Brotherhood’s hands serves my interests. And, of course, I will come to you sometime, perhaps multiple times, in the future asking for a favor; which you will of course oblige without question.”
“Favors to be named later? I don’t normally deal in such obligatory vagaries.”
“Of course you don’t. No true schemer wants to agree to something before they know what it is. But you will agree to it this time.”
This last sentence had been spoken as a matter of fact and Kressh, loath as he was to do this, was not about to dispute it.
“Very well, what would you have me do?”
“As you know, Aeuso’ari Karai and Aeuso’ari Karys are in the process of issuing a series of mutual decrees. And, as you can guess, they’ll inevitably come to an impasse over the issue of relations with the Obsidian Union; which will then require a conclave. Of course, like all the other Zhej’ari who sit on the conclave, you and your friend Graush will be soliciting bribes from one or both of the Aeuso’ari in exchange for your vote. Feel free to ask whatever price you were already going to extract but have Graush add a few additional price tags. First will be naming one of his sons to the post of the new imperial military’s Grand Moff…”
“Yes, he already intends to do this. Shall I contact Graush and bring him into this conversation?”
“No, don’t even bother telling him I exist. The less people know about this the better it is for us both. For his part, I’m sure Asmenys won’t appreciate you conspiring with a zu’el.”
“Mmm, quite so. And what is the other condition?”
“That Emperor Karai marry Graush’s daughter.”
“This cannot be done. We already plan to marry her to Sarasashi to secure control of the conclave.”
“I know. This will not interfere in the fulfillment of that agreement.”
“What? How? Speak plainly!”
“The emperor will refuse the offer.”
“So, what good does that do us?”
“Because Karai may have made several major blunders thus far in his reign but he will see the wisdom in offering Graush some appeasement. He will at first offer a marriage into another, related line in Clan Narat that would keep the Graush from direct succession. Asmenys is to refuse this offer at which point Karai will simply offer to declare another of Graush’s sons as his imperial heir.”
“How can you be so sure of this?”
“Because Karai Narat is intent on marrying another. It would help if Asmenys offers him the option to take the daughter as his primary consort and this other as a secondary wife. That will bring Karai to the point of offering direct succession even faster.”
“You mean that zu’el concubine of his? You can’t truly believe he’d give up such a prize so cheaply just for her?”
“You don’t understand how Karai Narat thinks, Plejada, that’s why you’ve had trouble predicting his moves thus far. He spent a good portion of his youth outside the Caldera with none of his own kind near him; he simply does not have the normal cultural mindset for your species.”
“He’s even more of a young fool than I thought. That still leaves how you intend to deliver the shipyards to me.”
“That will happen at the Clan-Union negotiations.”
“Negotiations? If we tip the vote in Karai Narat’s favor he will never agree to negotiate with the Union. That, at least, I *do* know about him.”
“Leave that to me. For now rest easy in the knowledge that such negotiations will occur and it will be there that you put the finishing touches on your rise to power.”
“And what steps are required of me at these negotiations?”
“I will inform you of that when I see you there.”
“You will be present?”
“Yes, but you won’t recognize me at first. I’ll give you a little clue when we first meet to reveal myself. Goodbye for now, Zhej’ari.”
And then, just as suddenly as it had flickered to life, the holotransmission went dead.
New Bethrezen, fifty-two hours later
Mandraus Conx, Director of Military Supply, shuffled some papers from his desk into his briefcase. He was at present within the confines of his office in the GLP Congressional Hall and was preparing for what he knew was going to turn into a circus. He cursed those damnable desert apes, the so-called Red Sith, for yet again issuing a list of absurd demands; demands that apparently required the entire congress’ attention. As he gathered the last of those things he felt might be handy this session, he began to head for the door but gave a little start instead when he saw someone else was present. The woman must’ve come in when he wasn’t looking, Conx decided before going on to also decide that she was quite attractive for a human of middle years. The Director had always felt that the real test of a woman’s beauty was if it managed to survive her fortieth birthday.
“Good afternoon, Director Conx,” the woman said with a pleasant, bright smile.
“Well, hello, miss. You snuck up a bit on me there,” he said while smiling back, “Normally I’d be happy to hear whatever it is that you came here to say but I’m, at this moment, needed for important affairs of state…”
“More important than your involvement with Lady Vidia’s attempted coup?” the visitor asked, her smile shifting into a sadistic smirk.
“Now see here!” Mandraus huffed, no longer so charmed by this lady, “I don’t know who you think you are…”
“That’s not important. What matters is that I have proof,” she interrupted once more, “Recordings of transmissions sent roughly three days prior to the outbreak of the second civil war. I think you know which ones I mean.”
Conx was dumbfounded; his mind raced as he tried to regain his bearings.
“And don’t even bother thinking about how you’re going to bargain an amnesty plea in exchange for those classified documents of Xaos’ that you’ve stashed. I’ve already taken them.”
Mandraus Conx had never been accused of being a particularly tough man and he wasn’t about to dispel that opinion with the way he began trembling after hearing this.
“Wh…what do you want from me?” he whimpered, “If you were just going to turn me in you would’ve done it by now.”
“From now on you will do whatever I instruct whenever I command you to do so. We’ll start with the little drama that’s waiting for you out on the congress floor. As this session unfolds there will inevitably be a vote to constitute a Union delegation to negotiate with the Red Sith. It is your duty to insure that, under no circumstances, are both Consul Lucifer and Representative Iriluna Enaterie to be on this delegation.”
“But how am I to do that?”
“You have a sort-of low cunning, you’ll figure something. Especially considering that your life is riding on your success.”
It was then that a brief cadence sounded over the Hall’s announcement system, summoning the Congress members to their task.
“Better get going,” the woman commented, “You don’t want to be late.”
New Alderaan, twenty-seven hours later
Rush Leroun paced nervously around the bedroom of his suite, the bits of damage he had taken earlier aching with each step. He was far sorer mentally than physically, however, and for multiple reasons. Rush had always assumed that the Sith Brotherhood, though sympathetic to the Purebloods, would come to see reason in the end. They would come to see that he was right, that these tribes and clans were nothing but decayed remnants trying to steal their sustenance from peoples who still had the ability to work for a better future. But the journey to New Alderaan had shown him the truth and now he was uncertain that he would live after being used as a prop in these negotiations to undo all the work he had done to make Khar Delba, the Obsidian Union even, what it is today.
“Rush Leroun,” the voice came seemingly from nowhere, causing Leroun to question if the mental effects he had been subjected were lingering.
“Who is that? Who’s there?” Rush called out.
“Who I am is not important,” the voice, which Rush could now tell belonged to a woman, replied, “All that matters is I can save you. But you must not speak out loud; *think* your responses back to me. And remain calm; I can only do so much to cloud your masters’ senses before they notice someone is blocking them.”
“You’re one of *them*, aren’t you?” Rush replied in his head.
“You mean a Force-user? Yes, I thought that would’ve been obvious.”
“I mean a Sith.”
“You have never met a real Sith until this moment, Mr. Leroun.”
“…How…do I know this isn’t a hallucination?”
“Go look at the guards assigned to your suite.”
Rush, at first taken aback by this simple reply, paused before moment before venturing out into the rest of his suite. He then stood before the Council Guard members. They always seemed near-motionless when at attention but they seemed especially so now. Tentatively, Rush waved his hand in front of one man’s visor, which produced no reaction. Though the guards were clearly alive, they were either unaware of Rush or unaware of anything at all.
“Could a hallucination do that?” the voice queried, “You know what’s going to happen to you once this conference is over, Archon. But it doesn’t *have* to end that way. I can help you escape.”
“And what do you get out of this? I’m not fool enough to believe that you’re doing this out the kindness of your heart,” Rush quietly harrumphed.
“Keeping you alive and a thorn in the Brotherhood’s side serves my purposes,” the woman responded, “Now, do you accept my offer?”
“I hardly have a choice…yes, I accept.”
“Good.”
Suddenly a section of wall began to move, by the time the multiple sections had fallen away a secret passage was revealed. Though he took a moment to look about nervously, Rush Leroun was soon running into the passages at a sprint. The Council Guardsmen, still under the woman’s influence, followed sluggishly not long after. Once the entire troop was through, the secret doorway sealed up again.
Interlude from a Galactic Alliance Intelligence report, Communications and Decryptions Division
…detected the following exchange between unknown parties on New Alderaan and Khar Delba. The individuals in question were using a very-low frequency wavelength which makes me suspect they were trying to keep this quiet from Union monitors. I’ve removed the codes the individuals used to confirm each other’s identity from this transcript for ease of reading but have included them in the technical analysis file attached to this message.
New Alderaan sender’s message: “The time is now; message him the evidence.”
Khar Delba recipient’s reply: “No actual evidence has been found. I will send him the previously agreed upon fabricated evidence upon receiving your confirmation.”
Sender’s reply: “Confirmed.”
New Bethrezen, several days later
“How’s he doing,” Darth Lucifer asked; ‘he’ being Darth Exolus, who had just come out of bacta treatment and surgery a few hours ago.
“We managed to stabilize him two days ago,” the nurse replied pleasantly, “His larynx is quite swollen from the surgery, however, you may see him for a brief time.”
“Thank you, nurse,” the Dark Lord replied before entering the room.
Bowing to Lucifer as he passed, the nurse then grabbed the handles of a medical cart and began to push it through the medlab’s halls. As the pills and doctor’s tools rattled on the cart’s surface, the woman couldn’t help but be pleased with herself. The past two weeks had been very productive indeed. She almost hadn’t risked this visit to the recuperating Exolus’ bedside after Lucifer had seemed to catch a glimpse past her deceptions on New Alderaan. But now she was glad that she did. Lucifer had failed to notice that she was the same person who had been at New Alderaan and Exolus hadn’t noticed that she’d referred to his visitor as a Jedi, even though a nurse would have no way of knowing this. She wondered if, once the drugs wore off, that would occur to him later. The woman was quite pleased; dealing with this ‘Brotherhood’ would be even easier than she had hoped.
Lumiya smiled; everything was going exactly as she had planned.
Coruscant, 01:33, local time
Darren Callat had never been properly introduced to paranoia until he began serving his sentence in the Alliance Judiciary Central Detention Center. Prior to this he had thought himself at least somewhat acquainted with this emotion; that the nervousness he felt when constantly looking over his shoulder after committing a crime was equivalent. He now knew how wrong he had been. In this prison he had learned the real meaning of paranoia. The facility was designed in a circular manner, with all the cells facing inwards towards a central spire; from which any guard might be observing any prisoner at any time. This set up inevitably left all the prisoners, including Callat, convinced that they were being watched at all times.
Perhaps it was this paranoia that caused him to awake as he heard the subtle woosh of a hover-platform approaching his cell. The device docked and the cell’s energy field lowered, admitting several prison guards. Before Darren could ask what was happening, they seized him and moved him onto platform. After he was aboard the grim demeanor of the guards was a further deterrent to offering questions. At first he assumed that this occurrence was surprising but also that he would soon have a mundane explanation for it. But, after the platform entered the prison’s service tunnels, a whole new wave of paranoia crept in.
Darren had heard stories from the other inmates, stories about prisoners being taken in the night and never being seen again. The explanations varied wildly with each storyteller. The Department of Justice was killing off inmates to free up money for the war. The guards were selling the inmates to the Hutts as slaves. The prisoners’ organs were being harvested. These were just a few of the often outlandish explanations for the unexplained phenomenon. As the realization dawned on Darren that he was about to find out, first hand, the truth behind these rumors, he attained a truly deep understanding of the phrase, ‘ignorance is bliss.’
Within an hour, the prisoner had been loaded onto a small, unmarked an unremarkable freighter and was being flown out of the planet’s atmosphere. The vessel passed through the heightened Coruscant orbital security without event and made its way to a patch of asteroids within the star system’s confines. It was only then that the guards came to collect Callat from his uncomfortable accommodations in the cargo hold. As he was marched through the freighter and into an umbilical connecting it with an unknown ship, Darren’s fear intensified. Sweat was running down his face in rivulets before he even set foot in the other vessel.
Even Callat’s ‘escort’ seemed somewhat surprised by what they found waiting for them; there was only a single individual present to greet them. The human woman was short and built slightly yet athletically. As the trio consisting of prisoner and guards first beheld the woman they were all a bit stunned. All had been expecting much heavier crew to take possession of Callat. The woman, however, either took no notice or did not care about the men’s surprise and brusquely pressed a container, laden with GA credits, into one of the guard’s hands.
“Uh, miss, do you want us to secure the prisoner for you?” one of the crooked prison guards asked, looking downward at her, “He might be just a petty thug but he’s still dangerous.”
“You have delivered what I asked for and received your payment, now go,” the woman replied and, in that moment, the guard felt as though she were towering over him rather than the other way around.
Eagerly, the two free men retreated back into their shuttle, leaving their prisoner alone with his purchaser. The woman motioned for Darren to follow her and he did not attempt to defy or question. For a moment, as it dawned on him that her back was turned as they walked, he considered attacking. But, he quickly realized, even if his hands were not presently bound behind his back, he didn’t dare. He had looked into the woman’s eyes as she spoke to his former captors and in their blue-grey depths he had seen the soul of a remorseless and experienced killer.
Soon Darren found himself again inside a freighter’s cargo hold. The woman motioned for him to sit and, again, he obeyed without resistance. Within a moment she was sitting across from him and he was once more looking into those terrifying eyes. For several more moments she stared at him saying nothing, it was only when Callat realized that he had become physically incapable of looking away that he began to notice something…wrong inside him. He struggled, his panic growing, as he felt the woman penetrating his very mind. Though no experience in his life had ever led him to believe such a thing was possible, he knew without a doubt that the alien tendrils of consciousness he now felt burrowing into the depths of his psyche were her doing.
“Don’t struggle, it will only hurt more if you do,” the woman said and, with a shock of fright, Darren realized that she had never moved her lips and was speaking directly into his mind.
The young man could hardly follow this advice; he was caught up in a horror he could have never imagined as he felt his memories being slowly, agonizingly dredged away. And, into the blank spaces this process left, other memories were being forcibly inserted. Memories about a giant, wheel-shaped space station, a planet called Almania and the various mannerisms and standard behaviors of that planet’s representative. Slowly, he was being hollowed out and filled with a thousand alien recollections and subconscious programs. Darren Callat began to howl a blood-curdling scream; it would be the last act he ever performed of his own free will.
New Bethrezen, thirty-six standard hours later
Leo Zelona, Representative for the planet Almania in the GLP Congress, heaved a heavy yet relieved sigh as he fell back into his armchair and removed his boots. Today had been one of the ‘perfect storms’ of tedium that sometimes rolled through the Congress. Controversy over the topic being discussed combined with the near-total insignificance of the topic being discussed (namely whether a minor shipping route fell under the authority of the Quarren Isolation League or the Tion Hegemony) to render the afternoon utterly unbearable. But now that he was back in his quiet apartments overlooking one of the many parks in the governmental quarter, he intended to forget about it as quickly as possible.
The representative’s plans, however, were interrupted by a sound coming from near the kitchen. Leo was a man well acquainted with vigilance and he knew the difference between an object falling or architecture settling and noise caused by an intruder. Rising from his reclined position, Leo grabbed one of his blaster pistols and began a cautious sweep of his home. Focusing on listening, he heard the sound of soft, subdued breathing coming from around a corner. Bursting around the bend, he leveled his gun to where he knew the interloper to be standing but, when he found himself face-to-face with *himself*, he failed to pull the trigger and unwittingly lowered his blaster in confusion. Before the representative could say a word, his doppelganger lunged forward, opening the Almanian’s throat with a kitchen knife. As Leo Zelona rapidly bled to death, the double who had once been Darren Callat dragged him away.
Khar Shian, a standard week later
The sound of flimisplast smacking against flimsiplast sounded sharply through the high ceilings of Plejada Alkis Kressh iv-Sarasashi’s fortress as he flipped through a stack of handwritten reports. Without warning, his desk’s holoprojector activated, displaying a figure swathed in a heavy cloak. The fact that this transmission had initiated without Plejada’s command or an announcement of an incoming message told him that this human woman (or so he guessed based on what he could see under the hood she wore) had sliced into his system.
“Labinatias, vik’difas Zhej’ari Kressh,” the woman hailed Plejada in Sithese with near-perfect inflection and pronunciation.
“And who are you that would dare to intrude on my work?” Plejada responded, showing his contempt by speaking in Basic.
“Who I am is unimportant,” she responded coolly, “What matters is what I can offer you.”
“And, pray tell, what exactly can you offer me?” Plejada sneered, “Except peace and quiet by leaving me be, I mean.”
“Everything you want,” came the woman’s blunt reply.
“Ha!” Plejada bellowed, causing him to wheeze slightly, “You have the audacity of a sand mite climbing up a behemoth’s leg with the intention of rape! Why should I believe for a second that you can provide me with anything?”
“I’m speaking to you on a channel that until this moment youconsidered to be secure and secret, am I not?” she explained, “I believe your Clan has a saying, ‘Tave zygis kash tave irodymas’.”
“All you’ve offered evidence of is that you’re either a skilled slicer or have access to one,” he snorted, “That can be said of a multitude of individuals.”
“And is it common knowledge that you are conspiring with Asmenys Graush to take covert control of the Red Sith Empire?”
“It is a reasonable enough conclusion for anyone to reach. Were this an era where political ability was not a rare commodity then I would go so far to say that any fool could deduce that.”
“And can any fool deduce that you have an agent in Dabotish Sadow’s court?”
“I grow tired of this! You tell me nothing that…”
“An agent named Ziurti Sek iv-Mul; an agent that Dabotish unwittingly welcomed into his employ to discover if there is any truth behind the rumors that his wife is unfaithful to him. Rumors that were first spread by other operatives with purses full of Kressh gold.”
Plejada sat in stunned silence for a moment with his mouth slightly agape as his blood began to run cold. Even if this woman had somehow managed to discover one of the two facts that she had just mentioned, there should have been no way for her to know both. He had been so careful, built so many false leads and double-blind security measures into his plan. The tenor of the conversation had utterly changed in that moment of silence.
“Oh, good, that got your attention,” the woman cooed with a note of triumph in her voice.
“When you say ‘everything I want’…what is it exactly you think I want?” Kressh asked tentatively.
“Let me put it this way: follow my instructions over the coming days and you and your crony Graush will be the Clans’ emperors is all but name. You will control the entirety of the Khar shipyards; Graush will control the new imperial military and the line of succession and, between the two of you, will control the Clans’ conclave.”
“And why are you so interested in seeing this come to pass?”
“Let’s just say that taking direct control of the Red Sith out of the Brotherhood’s hands serves my interests. And, of course, I will come to you sometime, perhaps multiple times, in the future asking for a favor; which you will of course oblige without question.”
“Favors to be named later? I don’t normally deal in such obligatory vagaries.”
“Of course you don’t. No true schemer wants to agree to something before they know what it is. But you will agree to it this time.”
This last sentence had been spoken as a matter of fact and Kressh, loath as he was to do this, was not about to dispute it.
“Very well, what would you have me do?”
“As you know, Aeuso’ari Karai and Aeuso’ari Karys are in the process of issuing a series of mutual decrees. And, as you can guess, they’ll inevitably come to an impasse over the issue of relations with the Obsidian Union; which will then require a conclave. Of course, like all the other Zhej’ari who sit on the conclave, you and your friend Graush will be soliciting bribes from one or both of the Aeuso’ari in exchange for your vote. Feel free to ask whatever price you were already going to extract but have Graush add a few additional price tags. First will be naming one of his sons to the post of the new imperial military’s Grand Moff…”
“Yes, he already intends to do this. Shall I contact Graush and bring him into this conversation?”
“No, don’t even bother telling him I exist. The less people know about this the better it is for us both. For his part, I’m sure Asmenys won’t appreciate you conspiring with a zu’el.”
“Mmm, quite so. And what is the other condition?”
“That Emperor Karai marry Graush’s daughter.”
“This cannot be done. We already plan to marry her to Sarasashi to secure control of the conclave.”
“I know. This will not interfere in the fulfillment of that agreement.”
“What? How? Speak plainly!”
“The emperor will refuse the offer.”
“So, what good does that do us?”
“Because Karai may have made several major blunders thus far in his reign but he will see the wisdom in offering Graush some appeasement. He will at first offer a marriage into another, related line in Clan Narat that would keep the Graush from direct succession. Asmenys is to refuse this offer at which point Karai will simply offer to declare another of Graush’s sons as his imperial heir.”
“How can you be so sure of this?”
“Because Karai Narat is intent on marrying another. It would help if Asmenys offers him the option to take the daughter as his primary consort and this other as a secondary wife. That will bring Karai to the point of offering direct succession even faster.”
“You mean that zu’el concubine of his? You can’t truly believe he’d give up such a prize so cheaply just for her?”
“You don’t understand how Karai Narat thinks, Plejada, that’s why you’ve had trouble predicting his moves thus far. He spent a good portion of his youth outside the Caldera with none of his own kind near him; he simply does not have the normal cultural mindset for your species.”
“He’s even more of a young fool than I thought. That still leaves how you intend to deliver the shipyards to me.”
“That will happen at the Clan-Union negotiations.”
“Negotiations? If we tip the vote in Karai Narat’s favor he will never agree to negotiate with the Union. That, at least, I *do* know about him.”
“Leave that to me. For now rest easy in the knowledge that such negotiations will occur and it will be there that you put the finishing touches on your rise to power.”
“And what steps are required of me at these negotiations?”
“I will inform you of that when I see you there.”
“You will be present?”
“Yes, but you won’t recognize me at first. I’ll give you a little clue when we first meet to reveal myself. Goodbye for now, Zhej’ari.”
And then, just as suddenly as it had flickered to life, the holotransmission went dead.
New Bethrezen, fifty-two hours later
Mandraus Conx, Director of Military Supply, shuffled some papers from his desk into his briefcase. He was at present within the confines of his office in the GLP Congressional Hall and was preparing for what he knew was going to turn into a circus. He cursed those damnable desert apes, the so-called Red Sith, for yet again issuing a list of absurd demands; demands that apparently required the entire congress’ attention. As he gathered the last of those things he felt might be handy this session, he began to head for the door but gave a little start instead when he saw someone else was present. The woman must’ve come in when he wasn’t looking, Conx decided before going on to also decide that she was quite attractive for a human of middle years. The Director had always felt that the real test of a woman’s beauty was if it managed to survive her fortieth birthday.
“Good afternoon, Director Conx,” the woman said with a pleasant, bright smile.
“Well, hello, miss. You snuck up a bit on me there,” he said while smiling back, “Normally I’d be happy to hear whatever it is that you came here to say but I’m, at this moment, needed for important affairs of state…”
“More important than your involvement with Lady Vidia’s attempted coup?” the visitor asked, her smile shifting into a sadistic smirk.
“Now see here!” Mandraus huffed, no longer so charmed by this lady, “I don’t know who you think you are…”
“That’s not important. What matters is that I have proof,” she interrupted once more, “Recordings of transmissions sent roughly three days prior to the outbreak of the second civil war. I think you know which ones I mean.”
Conx was dumbfounded; his mind raced as he tried to regain his bearings.
“And don’t even bother thinking about how you’re going to bargain an amnesty plea in exchange for those classified documents of Xaos’ that you’ve stashed. I’ve already taken them.”
Mandraus Conx had never been accused of being a particularly tough man and he wasn’t about to dispel that opinion with the way he began trembling after hearing this.
“Wh…what do you want from me?” he whimpered, “If you were just going to turn me in you would’ve done it by now.”
“From now on you will do whatever I instruct whenever I command you to do so. We’ll start with the little drama that’s waiting for you out on the congress floor. As this session unfolds there will inevitably be a vote to constitute a Union delegation to negotiate with the Red Sith. It is your duty to insure that, under no circumstances, are both Consul Lucifer and Representative Iriluna Enaterie to be on this delegation.”
“But how am I to do that?”
“You have a sort-of low cunning, you’ll figure something. Especially considering that your life is riding on your success.”
It was then that a brief cadence sounded over the Hall’s announcement system, summoning the Congress members to their task.
“Better get going,” the woman commented, “You don’t want to be late.”
New Alderaan, twenty-seven hours later
Rush Leroun paced nervously around the bedroom of his suite, the bits of damage he had taken earlier aching with each step. He was far sorer mentally than physically, however, and for multiple reasons. Rush had always assumed that the Sith Brotherhood, though sympathetic to the Purebloods, would come to see reason in the end. They would come to see that he was right, that these tribes and clans were nothing but decayed remnants trying to steal their sustenance from peoples who still had the ability to work for a better future. But the journey to New Alderaan had shown him the truth and now he was uncertain that he would live after being used as a prop in these negotiations to undo all the work he had done to make Khar Delba, the Obsidian Union even, what it is today.
“Rush Leroun,” the voice came seemingly from nowhere, causing Leroun to question if the mental effects he had been subjected were lingering.
“Who is that? Who’s there?” Rush called out.
“Who I am is not important,” the voice, which Rush could now tell belonged to a woman, replied, “All that matters is I can save you. But you must not speak out loud; *think* your responses back to me. And remain calm; I can only do so much to cloud your masters’ senses before they notice someone is blocking them.”
“You’re one of *them*, aren’t you?” Rush replied in his head.
“You mean a Force-user? Yes, I thought that would’ve been obvious.”
“I mean a Sith.”
“You have never met a real Sith until this moment, Mr. Leroun.”
“…How…do I know this isn’t a hallucination?”
“Go look at the guards assigned to your suite.”
Rush, at first taken aback by this simple reply, paused before moment before venturing out into the rest of his suite. He then stood before the Council Guard members. They always seemed near-motionless when at attention but they seemed especially so now. Tentatively, Rush waved his hand in front of one man’s visor, which produced no reaction. Though the guards were clearly alive, they were either unaware of Rush or unaware of anything at all.
“Could a hallucination do that?” the voice queried, “You know what’s going to happen to you once this conference is over, Archon. But it doesn’t *have* to end that way. I can help you escape.”
“And what do you get out of this? I’m not fool enough to believe that you’re doing this out the kindness of your heart,” Rush quietly harrumphed.
“Keeping you alive and a thorn in the Brotherhood’s side serves my purposes,” the woman responded, “Now, do you accept my offer?”
“I hardly have a choice…yes, I accept.”
“Good.”
Suddenly a section of wall began to move, by the time the multiple sections had fallen away a secret passage was revealed. Though he took a moment to look about nervously, Rush Leroun was soon running into the passages at a sprint. The Council Guardsmen, still under the woman’s influence, followed sluggishly not long after. Once the entire troop was through, the secret doorway sealed up again.
Interlude from a Galactic Alliance Intelligence report, Communications and Decryptions Division
…detected the following exchange between unknown parties on New Alderaan and Khar Delba. The individuals in question were using a very-low frequency wavelength which makes me suspect they were trying to keep this quiet from Union monitors. I’ve removed the codes the individuals used to confirm each other’s identity from this transcript for ease of reading but have included them in the technical analysis file attached to this message.
New Alderaan sender’s message: “The time is now; message him the evidence.”
Khar Delba recipient’s reply: “No actual evidence has been found. I will send him the previously agreed upon fabricated evidence upon receiving your confirmation.”
Sender’s reply: “Confirmed.”
New Bethrezen, several days later
“How’s he doing,” Darth Lucifer asked; ‘he’ being Darth Exolus, who had just come out of bacta treatment and surgery a few hours ago.
“We managed to stabilize him two days ago,” the nurse replied pleasantly, “His larynx is quite swollen from the surgery, however, you may see him for a brief time.”
“Thank you, nurse,” the Dark Lord replied before entering the room.
Bowing to Lucifer as he passed, the nurse then grabbed the handles of a medical cart and began to push it through the medlab’s halls. As the pills and doctor’s tools rattled on the cart’s surface, the woman couldn’t help but be pleased with herself. The past two weeks had been very productive indeed. She almost hadn’t risked this visit to the recuperating Exolus’ bedside after Lucifer had seemed to catch a glimpse past her deceptions on New Alderaan. But now she was glad that she did. Lucifer had failed to notice that she was the same person who had been at New Alderaan and Exolus hadn’t noticed that she’d referred to his visitor as a Jedi, even though a nurse would have no way of knowing this. She wondered if, once the drugs wore off, that would occur to him later. The woman was quite pleased; dealing with this ‘Brotherhood’ would be even easier than she had hoped.
Lumiya smiled; everything was going exactly as she had planned.