Moff Gorran Lorsca's secretary sat behind a large silver desk, smacking her gums on a piece of bubble chew. Her legs swayed beneath the desk as she absently fiddled with her tablet, searching the holonet for any sort of entertainment that could hold her attention for more than a few minutes. Blonde hair, set into fancy curls, cascaded down her shoulders and framed a pretty if vapid face. Every once in a while, a call would come through on the comm, which she would absently answer:
"Hello, Moff Lorsca's office...Oh, okay. Let me check his schedule...Yeah, I'm not sure. I mean, I don't know." She'd twiddle with her hair, curling the locks around one or two fingers. "I'd have to check with him first. Call again later? Yeah, yeah, that'd be easiest."
In short, Moff Lorsca's secretary was a moron. Shira Brie, dressed in casual civilian clothes, sat in one of the gray waiting couches, analyzing every tendency with muted interest. After visiting two other Moffs earlier that day, she had determined that she could glean all that she needed to know about that Moff by carefully analyzing their secretary.
If the secretary was attentive and serious, focused like a laser when it came to getting the Moff's affairs in order, then that Moff was ambitious, seeking to improve his station and standing within the Imperial order. Older, frumpy secretaries seemed to be associated with Moffs that equaled or exceeded their age. Like their secretaries, these Moffs had one goal in mind: surviving their twilight. Lastly, there was the sort of Moff embodied by this twit.
Moffs with secretaries like this were likely charlatans and gluttons. Every Moff had an excessive amount of power and authority granted to them by their office. They had all the opportunities one would ever need to pursue wealth, women and fame. Yet that was not enough for them: they needed to turn even the official stationary of their position into toys for personal indulgence and ingratiation.
This secretary was a perfect example of that. Shira knew that this woman wasn't just working as Moff Lorsca's secretary. She was likely working here, in his office during the day, and working in his bedroom at night. It was disgusting. It was pathetic.
Tiring of waiting, Shira rose and approached the secretary. "How much longer did you say Moff Lorsca would be?"
"Uhm," she turned from her tablet, electrum earrings, which were clearly above and beyond her pay grade, shimmering in the light of her desk lamp. "Any minute now-he's just in an important meeting with his adjutant."
Shira's eyes narrowed as she heard the sound of bellowing laughter beyond the doors to Moff Lorsca's office. A cold whisper from the dark urged her to butcher the secretary, her boss and his adjutant. Come on! it pleaded, it would be so easy! And so, so satisfying. Just grab the knife you keep in your boot. You know, the one that all the security checkpoints fail to find-
Shira closed her eyes, then pressed her fingertips against her brow, pushing the more indulgent aspect of her personality below the surface. Playing messenger was something she willingly did for her master, but it was not something she enjoyed or found any kind of fulfillment in. Fortunately, once she was done making contact with the thirty or so Moffs that had declared loyalty to Darth Vader, she could get to the business of dealing with some fifty others that hadn't.
The doors to Lorsca's office opened and Lorsca, a tall but lithe and rather puny man emerged, sharing a laugh with a shorter, rotund man that was also in Imperial uniform. His adjutant, no doubt.
"Got to say, Gor, you're the best at greenputt," the adjutant said.
Lorsca chuckled. "I would do it all over again, if only to see the look on your father-in-law's face."
The secretary cleared her throat. "Gor-" She shook her head, correcting herself, "Moff Lorsca, sir, this woman is here to see you."
"Indira Vaerna, intel division," Shira said, offering a business card with a blue stormtrooper helmet stamped on one side.
Lorsca dismissed his adjutant and took the card gently, frowning as he stared at the symbol. "Exactly what branch are you with?"
Shira's eyes narrowed. The bastard knew exactly who she was with. She said, polite tone belying her annoyance, "the classified kind, sir."
"Very well," he said with a resigned sigh. "Come on in."
Shira entered the office and Lorsca closed the door behind them. She took a seat at one of the chairs set before Lorsca's elaborate crystal-and-glass desk. Shira couldn't help glaring at the desk as Lorsca took a seat behind it. Like the secretary, it was another petty indulgence.
"So, exactly what is this about?" Lorsca asked, leaning back in his chair.
"I think you know exactly what this is about, Moff."
He tilted his head in another effort to play stupid. At least the other Moffs she dealt with had the decency to not beat around the bush when dealing with someone that knew about their...dirty deeds.
"There was a scandal here, just a year or so ago, if you remember."
Lorsca straightened in his chair. "You're referring to the Grandiose Ghitu?"
Shira nodded.
"If you're some kind of mole from internal-trying to poke around for some last scraps on that case, then allow me to save a lot of your time." Lorsca folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "The vultures have picked every last piece of rotted flesh from that sorry little affair. That little Jedi Hunt was complete. Everyone-and I mean everyone-that had anything to do with those missing credits was put away. If you leave soon enough you might catch the next flight to Asteroid B5G.7, where they're spending the rest of their lives mining spice for trying to defraud the Emperor."
She snorted. "Of course. Everyone was caught-everyone except you, right?" A sly smile spread upon her lips. "Because you were warned, weren't you?"
He laughed, hand waving out, palm open in the most confident and dismissive of gestures. "Three investigators came in before you-they cleared me on all counts-"
"Of course they cleared you on all counts. My master saw to it, didn't he?"
Lorsca seemed to lose his confident swagger for the first time, and his eyes glinted as he looked her up and down once more, this time taking note of more than just her anatomy.
Shira produced a small data disc from her pocket, then manipulated it with her thin fingers until it projected a steady hologram streaming with numbers and readouts and financial data, accounts and money trails that all led back to the credits absconded from the Imperial Treasury. Lorsca's eyes went wide for a moment then he lunged, reaching over the span of his crystal desk to grab at the data disc. Shira reacted by simply tossing it in his face. It struck him between the eyes before clattering to the desk.
"Take it," Shira hissed. "You're a fool if you think that is the only copy. We may not have visited with you for some time but my master remembers you. And he remembers what he did for you. He warned you when that mole from Coruscant came to infect your inner circle, helped you outmaneuver him, use him to put the rest of your accomplices away and take their cut of your earnings. My master has made you richer than your wildest dreams."
Lorsca looked up at her balefully. "And now he's come back to collect?"
"In fealty, not in credits." She leaned forward. "I came here to remind you of that, in case these files need to somehow find their way back to the Supreme Inquisitor's office on Coruscant."
His eyes widened with fear. "No, that won't be necessary. You tell Lord Va-"
"Lord who?" Shira was burning holes through him with her dull green eyes. Already, she'd construed five ways of killing him where he sat-only two of which involved shattering the glass desk that sat between them. "I don't know who that is, but my master made it very clear just who you are to take your cues from. General Veers' short list was very explicit-yet you chose to elevate your cousin to the rank of Star Marshall for the Ghitu Sector. Why is that Moff Lorsca?"
His mouth hung ajar for a moment as he tried to look for the words. "Family commitments-I had already promised-"
"Family? Family? And what does your family know about you? For example, does your wife know about the healthy little trollop you keep in your secretary's chair? Does your daughter know?" She balled her hand into a fist until the bones in her knuckles cracked. "Make no mistake, Lorsca, we know everything about you. And there are varying degrees of punishment we can inflict upon you until you cooperate. That superlaser to the Supreme Inquisitor's office is only one of them. And remember-you're not the only man that wants to be Moff of the Ghitu Sector."
Lorsca looked down glumly.
"Do we understand each other?" She asked. When he nodded she stood up, gave him a smug glance then marched out of the office, not bothering to close the door behind herself.
Darth Vader sat in his quarters aboard the Death Star, trying to make sense of the day's events. It had been twenty years. Twenty years. Twenty years that didn't feel like twenty years. Time passed at such a strange rate since he'd sustained those injuries on Mustafar, since he became this black suit and its inbuilt breathing machine, since he ceased to age like normal men.
But it was about twenty years ago when Obi-Wan and Siri took his Padawan from him. Twenty years since they since they cut him to pieces, threw him into that fiery river on Mustafar and left him for dead. These were the people who had called him friend and brother and pupil while at the same time shivving him in the back. And now his vengeance upon them was complete.
He'd settled his debt with Siri several years ago, in a victory so satisfying that it could not even be described in words. He'd crushed their seed and their hopes-a repayment in full for their betrayal. They'd turned his wife against him and ruined his family. It was only fitting that he would ruin theirs. The fullness and sweetness of that victory eight years ago-or was it nine?-made this one pale by comparison.
Today had presented him with the ultimate victory over Obi-Wan Kenobi. Vader cut him down. Decapitated him with one overpowering strike. Watched the old man's head roll and body slump. Yet the finality of action, the end result of his wrath felt...empty. Because it all it gave to him was proof that Obi-Wan was now beyond his reach. A dead man can suffer no more.
But a man denied of the woman he loves, of his child, of his prized pupil... That man would suffer every waking moment.
And it was that thought that tarnished what should have otherwise been a perfect victory. Obi-Wan Kenobi was not alone on his little foray into the Death Star. There was a boy there with him, whose cunning and strength with the Force was self-evident. A boy whose clairvoyance allowed him to elude the garrison aboard the Death Star and rescue the Princess. A boy who screamed in anguish when Obi-Wan was cut down. A boy who must be Obi-Wan's new pupil.
The boy would be dealt with, one way or another. But the turbulence Vader had felt since meeting the boy hours ago-if that little face-off in the docking bay could really be considered a meeting-seemed to suggest that he'd stumbled upon someone of great power. His communes with the Dark Side suggested that the boy had great potential, that he might be a powerful ally, an asset for the plans that were to come to fruition soon.
Vader swiveled in the chair of his meditation chamber as a glowing panel alerted him to an incoming transmission, audio only. The signal was scrambled twice and mirrored over itself to produce the highest level of encryption known to modern transmission technology.
"Master?" Shira Brie's voice crackled through as the signal connected. "I have put Lorsca in his place."
"Well done, apprentice," Vader said with a nod. "If he causes difficulties again, devise a more...permanent solution."
"Men loyal to us have already been installed as his underlings and successors. Devising an accident would not be difficult."
Shira's voice was sincere but subdued. She had a tendency to speak in a permanent whisper, a result of the ten years she'd spent training as a spy and infiltrator. Vader had taken her on as his apprentice when she was eleven. She'd spent every waking moment since following his training regimen, studying Sith teaching or undertaking missions on his behalf.
"Are you still tracking that Jedi?" Vader asked.
"I lost track of her after Toprawa. She managed to escape the relay station even though the rebels there were routed."
"If you can get a trace on the Jedi again, do so," Vader said. "But follow her at a distance. Do not engage her under any circumstances."
Brie didn't know who this unnamed Jedi was, but Vader did. And he did not want his prized student to seek a foolish confrontation with Tano. Skywalker's former Padawan was more than a match for her. Besides, Vader had no intention of going after Ahsoka-personally, through his agents or otherwise. Of all the people from his old life, she was the only one who had never fully betrayed him. That contented him enough to leave her in peace-provided she stayed out of his way.
"Of course, Master," Brie said. "She's been too good a source of information to spring on now. If it wasn't for her, we never would have learned of the stolen Death Star plans."
Vader grimaced beneath his mask. If only that information had not gotten out. The Death Star is a powerful weapon, but a weapon firmly in the hands of Tarkin-and, by proxy, Palpatine. It would have been better if the Rebels had gotten those plans unmolested and as many attempts as possible at destroying it, and huge segments of Emperor Palpatine's legitimacy with it.
Now, the chances of the Death Star being destroyed at the Rebel's hands seemed slim to none. And countering this superweapon when it came time for him to make his bid for the throne...would be difficult, to say the least. He would have to conceive of other ways of containing and limiting its power.
What he had learned from this, though, was that there was a leak high up in the Rebel hierarchy. He and Brie knew about Toprawa but they guarded that information. Someone else must have alerted Palpatine, leading to the raid on the relay station, the chase of Princess Leia and the Tantive IV to Tatooine, the return of Obi-Wan Kenobi from hiding and the emergence of Kenobi's powerful apprentice.
Vader looked up at the comm console and wondered for a moment if there was a hard limit on Brie's loyalty, which, thus far, seemed to be absolute and unwavering. He had rescued her from a squalid existence and given her a gift beyond the imagination of any street urchin from her sort of origins. That loyalty and her tolerance be stretched pretty far-but just how far before it broke?
Brie was powerful, but to take on the Emperor, Vader would need an even stronger apprentice at his side.
"There has been a disturbance in the Force, my apprentice," Vader said. "Have you felt it?"
"Yes, Master, it was difficult to make out against the static of the destruction of Alderaan, but I felt it. Does it coincide with the emergence of this old Jedi? Kenobi?"
"Partly. But there is another matter. Kenobi had an apprentice."
"Apprentice?"
"Yes," Vader said after a pause. "The Force is very strong with him. If manipulated properly, he could be an asset. If turned, he could be a powerful ally."
There was a pause as she took some time to digest fully what he had just told her. What could be going through her head at that moment? Fear? Anger at the prospect of being replaced? No, even with the countless stars and nebulae and light-years between them, Vader could sense the emotions within his Sith Apprentice and it was...subtler than that. A slight feeling of apprehension that was quickly rationalized away, judging from the sureness of her voice.
"If he can help us destroy the Emperor, then he must be turned."
"Excellent." Vader pumped a mechanical fist. "If I do not find him on Yavin, then finding him will be one of your priorities."
"As you will, my master."
She closed the comm, then Vader leaned back in his chair. If Obi-Wan's apprentice could be found, then he might have a second apprentice. It would not be the first time. He'd raised Starkiller and Shira Brie at the same time, but they did not know about each other-they never did. This would be the first time he would have two apprentices that knew of each other's existences. And that presented new challenges-and new perils. Raising one Sith Apprentice was dangerous enough. But two? Two who might compete against each other-or, potentially, collaborate together...
No. Shira was his. He could control her. Her loyalty was absolute.
But if it wasn't? He would trade her up for a stronger apprentice. Palpatine had done so with Dooku so Vader would do the same here. After all, if there was one thing that Lord Vader had learned since his stumble on Mustafar, it was how to use his masters' tactics against them.
"The Death Star will enter the Yavin system in five minutes," the duty officer announced over the PA system.
Vader rose from his meditation chamber. Tarkin would want him on the observation deck.