War between the Empire and Republic rages on. With both sides caught in a stalemate and desperate to gain an edge, the Empire has turned to Hutt space for aid.
Over the past two years, the Emperor's Wrath Ishtaa has brought most of Hutt Space under the Empire's control.
Only one gang continues to resist: the vicious BLACK VEINS, a criminal network intent on creating anarchy and strife that refuses to accept the Empire's rule. After months of planning, Ishtaa decided to put her plan into motion.
But her plans have been disrupted: in the midst of a recon mission, apprentice Jaesa has gone silent, and all attempts to contact her have failed. It is up to Ishtaa to decide how to proceed. The fate of the war—and the life of her apprentice—hang in the balance…
Imperial HQ, Nar Shaddaa – Holo Room
Ishtaa's expression grew continuously darker the longer she stared at the holo, her fingertips tightening on the armrests of her throne.
She suspected that the feeling was mutual. Ravage's voice had been rising steadily throughout the call. "The loyalty of all Hutt space is on the line. We cannot leave even a single gang standing. You cannot expect to put the Empire's plans on hold for the sake of one apprentice."
"I expect the Empire to obey the commands of its Emperor," she said coolly, "and by extension, his Wrath. Or have you forgotten to whom you are speaking?"
There was a static-filled pause, and Ravage visibly composed himself. His voice was more even, if gritted, when he continued. "The Council respects your authority as the Wrath insofar as you are serving the Emperor's wishes. But the battle for Hutt Space—"
"Was granted to me by the Dark Council." She raised an eyebrow. "If the council decides to go back on its decision, then that is your prerogative. But until such time as you suspend my command, I will continue to give orders as I see fit." Without another word, she cut out the holo, grimacing as the lights in the room came back to full strength.
She reached up to rub her temples, then remembered—a moment too late—that she had put on her Sith makeup before speaking with Ravage. She groaned audibly as she lowered her hands and saw the white base smeared on her fingertips.
She pushed one of the buttons concealed in the armrest. "2V, prepare a basin and towel in my quarters. I've had enough Sith politics for one day."
"Yes, master."
Moving carefully in the pleated, embroidered robes she saved for council calls, she stood and made her way across the room, making her way as quickly as she could without appearing undignified or damaging her skirts.
Imperial HQ, Nar Shaddaa – Command Center
"Sir…"
Quinn stooped over the civilian operator's shoulder to read the screen, then nodded, straightening.
"Very good. They'll need to replenish, but that shouldn't be a problem. Pass it along to Logistics."
"Captain."
Quinn looked up as someone called from across the room. One of the intelligence recruits was standing by the entrance, looking a little more disheveled than was necessary for his disguise.
He hurried to the recruit, almost knocking into one of the com mechanics carrying a box of tools the other way. He skirted around the woman, mumbling apologies, before continuing his beeline towards the entrance.
The recruit jumped into an energetic salute. Quinn waved it away with a perfunctory gesture. "Any luck?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not, sir. No trace of the apprentice or what might have happened to her. We made it close to the entrance, but they knew we were coming. Sensors, I think."
Quinn looked away in frustration. Ishtaa's anxiety was beginning to show, which could only mean the fear was getting to her. Such news wouldn't improve her spirits.
The recruit cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. "The rest of the team scattered," he continued, the briskness in his voice gone. "I had hoped some of the others would be back by now." His eyes cast about the room, no doubt searching for a familiar face.
Quinn tried to look reassuring. You're not the only one who's taking a toll. "I'll inform the lookouts to keep their eyes open. And I'll have someone inform you when they return."
"Thank you, sir." The recruit made a feeble salute, then headed off in the direction of the infirmary—with a limp that Quinn hadn't picked up on before. As he reached the doorway, the recruit crossed paths with Vette. She looked to be coming from Ishtaa's quarters.
Quinn met her eyes across the room and shot her a questioning look.
She shook her head, a crease forming between her painted brows.
He sighed, bracing his hands on his hips. This wasn't going to be pretty. Nodding at Vette to indicate he had gotten her meaning, he made his way back through the maze of soldiers and civilians crossing paths or sitting in front of data screens.
He hesitated a little when he reached her door. He closed his eyes, forced himself to take a deep breath, think logically. This was where she would be most comfortable talking. It had been two years. He had done this a hundred times before. Logically, there was no reason he should feel any different than he did handing her a report in the com room, or the bridge of the Fury.
Logic didn't stop the pang of guilt twisting into his heart and lungs like a knife.
He knocked.
"Come in."
He opened the door slowly, eyes fixed on a tapestry that hung on the off-side of her room, just in case she wasn't fully dressed. He'd practically memorized that tapestry as of late.
He knew her mannerisms well enough to imagine the look that crossed her face when she saw who it was: some surprise, hope, concern, the mask of the Wrath that she always wore, a flicker of something he couldn't identify. "Quinn!" He didn't hear any protest in the way she said his name, so he assumed it was safe to look.
He turned. Sure enough, there was the look. She must have only just finished washing, because she was in a plain tunic and pants, her cheeks and bridge of her nose still bore the angry stripes of pink and red that flared up when she wasn't careful. It softened her, he noticed, made her look less the Emperor's Wrath and more the apprentice who had let him kiss her on the bridge—
"Has something happened?"
Her question jarred his train of thought. Focus. Then it came back to him why he was here. He turned away, unable to watch when the glimmer of hope died in her eyes.
A hand gripped his arm. "Did they find her? Is she hurt?"
He forced himself to look at her. He had to reassure her somehow, and his words certainly weren't going to do it. "They weren't able to find anything new," he said, covering her hand with his before removing it from his arm. "The team got close to the complex, but they were chased off before they could get any intel."
Ishtaa let go of his hand. She nodded at him, understanding, but her eyes were no longer looking at him. Even as she crossed the room to sink into a chair, he could see that her thoughts were somewhere far away.
"I'm sorry we couldn't give you more to go on, my lord," he said. "Everyone is doing all they can."
"They're taking the command from me."
He looked at her in shock. "What?"
"They're taking my command back," she repeated, each word sounding very heavy as she said it. "The Dark Council thinks I'm not moving fast enough. Darth Ravage has just given me forty-eight hours to complete the mission, or the Council will step in for me. They intend—" her eyes refocused and she turned to look at him as she continued, "—to take out the entire complex in one fell swoop, without consideration for those still inside."
"But Jaesa is not just an Imperial. She's your apprentice. Nearly a dark lord of the Sith…"
"Apprentices die all the time," Ishtaa said flatly. "More often than not, because their masters killed them. If I tell them that I want to protect Jaesa…" She broke off abruptly. She lowered her eyes again. "But that's beside the point. The reality is that the Council is not entirely wrong. Whatever my feelings for her, however much I care, Jaesa is just one woman. It's not fair to the rest of the people fighting here—dying here—to prolong the mission any more than I have to."
I'm sorry. But the words died in Quinn's throat. His job was no longer to comfort her. He was her advisor and servant. Nothing more. "What do you plan to do?"
She shook her head. "I don't know."