The dying light of the sun drifted through the broad office window of Maketh Tua, a senior minister of the Imperial government of Lothal. She sat at her desk, swiping through the reports on her datapad. Rioting and unrest had erupted planetwide in the cycles following the incident at the main planetary broadcast facility. The statistics before her told a grim tale. Property damage, injuries, fatalities, public trust in the planetary government irrevocably shaken. She paused on an image of one of the most brutal incidents, taken by a surveillance droid: stormtroopers firing into a crowd. It dredged up memories of a day when she learned very intimately the price of failure. A flash of scarlet light, the smell…

She fumbled with a small iridium case, fishing it from a tunic pocket. The latch popped, two pinches between gloved fingers, two sharp inhales through the nose. An old and refined Core world habit; a fine blend of fragrant, stimulant herbs, laced very, very lightly, with glitterstim. The stench of seared fabric and flesh was gone again. The room seemed brighter, as if a cloud lifted from her mind. She smiled in relief, almost by reflex. The scent brought back memories, all those late nights before Academy exams, and more than a few obscenely boring cocktail parties. She went to snap the case shut, before eyeing the contents. Odd. The case was emptier than she remembered. She would have to speak with that gentleman in Customs on arranging another order. Her thoughts were interrupted as the intercom chimed on her desk.

'Minister, there is a visitor here to see you.'

The irritation was palpable as she pressed the transmit stud.

'I am occupied. Open office hours are from 1300 to 1600, Jaina, you know this. They are more than welcome to come back to-'

She almost dropped the case. The office door opened, and a shadow slid into the room. Clad head to toe in black, mantle trailing behind like smoke, there was a mechanical grace in her movements as polished boots clicked on the tiled floor. The only trace of colour was her face, alien flesh rendered in a pale, almost sickly shade of green, her aqualine features offset by strange, geometric tattoos. Her short hair may have been a lustrous black once; the silver that now shimmered within stood out on a woman in her prime. This was the new Inquisitor, another of the creatures on Tarkin's leash. She wore that same icy smile she had shown the day she arrived, so full of affected sincerity.

'Good afternoon, Minister.'

The voice was melodious, with all the kindness of a vibroblade. Tua hid her surprise quite well, or she she believed, rising to her feet and straightening her tunic in one fluid motion.

'Good afternoon, Inquisitor! My apologies, I had no idea-'

'Its quite alright Minister. I understand you are exceptionally busy. The Empire is fortunate to have such diligent servants.'

The flattery awakened the politician in Tua.

'To what do I owe the honour of this unexpected pleasantry?'

'I thought I would take the time for us to become better acquainted. My arrival with the Governor left little time for proper introductions.'

'Of course. Could I offer you anything?'

Her guest cast an eye to the small table aside the door, bedecked with several decanters and a bouquet of lilies. She nodded to a dark red Alderranian, easily the most expensive vintage on the table. Tua smiled and moved to pour. She could plainly see the game. This Inquisitor, like the last, would have what she desired without question, no matter the cost.

As the wine flowed into crystal, she wondered, silently, why the Empire took to using nonhumans for its agents. The first had been Utapaun, she had checked her files. This one was…Miralian? A great many of the Separatists had been nonhumans, along with the most corrupt senators of the Republic. It seemed almost counter-intuitive to trust them too greatly. It had to be politics. A nonhuman would have no friends, no patrons or favours within the Imperial bureaucracy. There could be no chance of nepotism or corruption. These Inquisitors would have to be unquestionably loyal to the New Order, otherwise they would fall very hard indeed.

A full glass in each hand, Tua turned to her guest, who accepted one with the slightest nod. The Miralian ran the glass beneath her nose, contented, and without a word, turned to the broad window that framed the minister's desk. They sipped deep, together in silence. The game again. The Inquisitor was making her wait.

Tua could not stand the quiet.

'Have you known Governor Tarkin long?'

It was a stupid question. A beat passed, and a side glance; that grin again.

'The governor and I have known one another for a very long time.'

Tua buried her unease in her wine.

'You've worked closely, then?'

'I can easily say I would not be standing here today without his efforts, Minister'

The Inquisitor drank deep, her eyes distant. The drought glistened red on her lips.

'He is, after all, one of the Emperor's foremost servants. His methods can be most persuasive.'

She turned from the window.

'However, you will find we bring different dishes to the table. The governor is an exceptionally direct man, and does not suffer fools, or failure, lightly. You will find he is not as forgiving as I am.'

Tua fidgeted.

'Yes, well, we must all be forthright in our duty…'

'As was the previous Inquisitor who was assigned to Lothal. He too was exceptionally direct, even theatrical. He paid the price for his methods.'

Another sip. Again the room clicked as she paced.

'I possess a certain perspective that my predecessor lacked. In the task of hunting down and removing enemies of the Empire he was without peer, but this situation requires a more delicate touch. There are some difficulties that cannot be solved with a lightsaber. Sabotage, dissension, acts of terrorism…I have a very personal understanding in dealing with these matters….'

She swirled the wine, her gaze distant for a moment, pensive. Then she returned to the present, and locked sharp, dark eyes with Tua's own.

'I am here to heal Lothal, Minister. The citizens of this world require the balm of the Empire's security to soothe their fears and misconceptions. One cannot deliver that reassurance with the boot and the blaster. We will show these 'rebels' for what they really are: criminals, thieves, warmongers. I want the people to know the truth. These insurgents represent a recurrence of all the worst symptoms of the Old Republic, of corruption and selfishness. They are an infection that has taken root on Lothal, and make no mistake, I will cut out that infection, if necessary.'

The wine was served warm. That voice could have easily chilled it.

'Do you know what I treasure the most about our Empire?'

Tua awaited the rhetorical answer. The Miralian turned back to the window, bathing in a sunset gone deep crimson.

'Order, stability…peace. Not so long ago our galaxy was plunged, by the greed of a few, into a conflict so cataclysmic and terrible that it has yet to fully recover. I will not allow history to repeat itself. I will not allow infiltration and indoctrination by these criminals playing at hero to jeopardize all that we have accomplished. There is no rebellion on Lothal. Only sickness. Only weakness. And Lothal shall be cured.'

The Inquisitor turned to the Minister, her glass raised.

'To peace.'

It was not a suggestion.

'To peace.' Tua echoed.

They drank. It was a bitter wine.