Hi all — yes, I haven't posted in a while. Work has been stressful and frequently boiling over into my evening downtime. I just haven't had much energy to write lately, but I will keep trying!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

-Mongoose

Vyhra gets orders from Darth Salire.

3661 BBY

Imperial date 1312.11.29

Vyhra woke to the soft tone of a door chime. With a slight turn of her head, she glanced at her bedside clock and scowled.

"My lady," Andir, her human slave, called from the door. "Darth Salire has asked you to her quarters."

"Shit," Vyhra muttered. Though the Darth now had three apprentices, Vyhra would always be the most important of the three. She spent much more time with Darth Salire than her current counterparts, Ciaran and Marius. Still, summons delivered at three o'clock in the morning were rare. Something must be wrong.

Vyhra touched a panel on the wall next to her bed, and her room filled with muted white light. She threw off the covers and stretched, reaching down her bare legs to grasp her heels. Years of gymnastics training kept her muscles flexible, even without a proper warm-up.

"Lady Vyhra?"

"Yes, yes. I'm up, Andir." With a small boost from the Force, Vyhra sprung from her massive canopy bed and landed near the walk-in closet at the far end of her room. Some Sith — that pretentious upstart Marius was one — might consider such a use of the dark side to be silly or even disrespectful, but Vyhra saw no reason to curtail her natural talents.

Vyhra toed a Cathar slave girl who lay curled up on a floor mat. "Come on, Kitty, get up. I have to go to the Darth." She was always careful not to reveal the true nature of her relationship with Salire to anyone, even her personal slaves. "Get my bathrobe, will you? I can't go to her dressed like this."

Half-awake, the girl rose from the mat and eyed Vyhra's skimpy shorts and tank top. "Yes, mistress."

"Your fur is sticking up all over the place," Vyhra commented. "Hold still." She grabbed one of Kitty's arms by the wrist, smoothed the Cathar's coppery coat with a few brisk strokes, then repeated the gesture for the other arm.

Happily, Vyhra sensed only a hint of resentment from Kitty as she manhandled her; the shock collar that Vyhra installed six months back seemed to be having the desired effect of dampening the young Cathar's emotions.

Vyhra received the Cathar as a gift for her fifth birthday. They used to pull pranks on the engineering staff and steal shuttles for joyrides above Ziost. Once, they mastered an obscure alien language and used it to gossip loudly in front of the crew. Their conversations grew more daring and ridiculous until that day in the mess hall, when Kitty let loose such a torrent of smut and profanity that Vyhra choked on her muja fruit and had to be taken to the infirmary.

Kitty used to be smart. She used to be fun. Then she suddenly changed, and a year later Vyhra still didn't know why. What relationship they had enjoyed as friends was gone. Now, only the relationship between master and slave remained.

Vyrha used her thumbs to tame the girl's facial fluff, eliciting only a slight wince from the Cathar. "Much better. Off you go, then," she directed.

She waited for Kitty for a few minutes, passing the time by fixing the damage that sleep had done to the braid in her waist-length hair. Vyhra's hair was jet black; her mother, by contrast, was a blonde. Many Sith Purebloods had black hair. Did that mean that Vyhra had Sith Pureblood somewhere in her ancestry? Probably not. It was fun for Vyhra to imagine being the long-lost member of some elite family — one that maintained a respectable estate on Dromund Kaas instead of living a nomadic existence on board a starship. But Darth Salire would never reveal the full details of her daughter's complicated parentage.

According to her mother, Vyhra's birth was made possible by a team of genetic scientists and a staggering amount of in-vitro manipulation. The scientists injected chemicals at certain stages of fetal development to alter Vyhra's genome. Most of her physical characteristics had been selected by her mother, and likely some of her personality traits, too.

Vyhra looked down at her body, trim yet powerful, attractive and deadly. But it wasn't really hers. Salire owned it — owned her as surely as Vyhra owned poor Kitty.

To think that my mother decided how big my tits were going to be.

Cold rage coursed over her skin, and Vyhra reached out with the dark side power that touched her, searching the room for her saberstaff. The weapon flew from its stand on her bedside table and landed with a satisfying smack in her outstretched hand. Going armed to a meeting with one's master was simple prudence for a Sith. There was no telling when an opportunity for revenge would present itself.

Minutes later, Vyhra was stalking barefoot through the corridors of the Golden Vanity. Kitty had dug up a silky midnight-blue dressing gown that billowed out behind her as she walked, but Vyhra had declined to wear the matching pair of slippers. The Vanity was her home. She could walk around barefoot if she pleased.

She quietly padded her way to the elevator, making her way by the soft yellow glow of the night lamps. The residential decks of the ship were dimly lit, according to the late hour, but most areas of the ship never rested. The mess halls with their tepid food, the expansive flight decks, the bridge — all essential functions were staffed all hours a day. They flashed by brightly as the transparent elevator carried Vyhra to her master's private decks.

Vyhra stalked through the twisted hallways until she came to the familiar, unassuming door. She pressed her hand to the adjacent access panel, and it slid out of her way, revealing a dimly lit room with a huge holotable occupying its center. The Darth stood at the far end of the holotable, examining a solar system projected into the air by the device. She spun one of ghostly planets with a flick of her finger, orienting on a particular region and magnifying it for a closer view. A few lines of text appeared with each location, providing news from the Salire's holdings all over the sector.

As soon as the door closed, her mother's greeting rang out from the darkness. "It took you too long, daughter." The Darth never called her daughter unless they were alone together.

Despite the shadows, Vyhra could see that the Darth wasn't wearing her usual skintight fabric mask. There wasn't much of a familial resemblance between the two women. Vyhra's long hair was bound in a thick, black braid that hung to her waist. Salire's angular features, slightly leathered with age and exposure to dark side energies, were framed by medium-length wisps of silver-blonde hair. Vyhra's eyes were soft, almost doll-like, while her mother's golden eyes had a sharpness that matched the ruthless will behind them.

Darth Salire flicked her wrist, spinning the holographic planets along their orbits. "When I call for you, I need you to attend quickly."

"It's oh-three hundred," Vyhra yawned. "The ship isn't under attack. What is it that couldn't wait until morning?"

"All this requires a great deal of oversight." Salire dodged the question, instead gesturing to the images hovering before her. "If you're to inherit what I have built, you have to be willing to sacrifice simple luxuries on occasion."

"If there's nothing important going on, getting out of bed in the middle of the night isn't really a sacrifice - it's just a waste of time." Vyhra crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. "And what do you mean, 'if I am going to inherit?'"

Her mother dodged that question, too, instead pressing a button on the projection controls. The planets disappeared from the display, and in their place appeared the holographic figure of a man in a cowled robe.

"Master," said the image in the recording, "I've arrived at Nar Shaddaa, and in a few minutes I will be heading to Jurda the Hutt's complex. You requested a live conference when I reached the planet, but I no longer felt that I could establish a secure channel."

"He sounds so academic," Vyhra commented snidely. She reached out to pause the recording and received an impatient look from the Darth as a result. "Does he always sound this dry?"

"He adopts a special formality when dealing with me," Salire mused. "You haven't spent much time with Marius?"

"I don't make a habit of getting friendly with the help," Vyhra sniffed.

"Interesting," said the Darth. She resumed playback on the hologram, leaving Vyhra to wonder what she meant.

"Our ship was disabled en route by a group of corsairs. I used your line of credit to charter a private vessel for the rest of the mission. We were able to pull some images of our attackers from the log, and I've included them with this recording, along with the location for the ship we left behind." Marius' image was replaced by several pictures, showing three corsairs from a half-dozen different angles. "These ships disabled our caravel and then jumped away. No deaths, no attempts at ransom. It makes me think they were simply sent to prevent us from reaching Nar Shaddaa." The apprentice's image re-appeared, then shrugged. "I believe the attack was a message. Someone doesn't want the Empire represented at this festival, Master. I'll contact you again when I have more information."

"He did well," observed Salire as the recording ended.

Vyhra rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She must not have heard correctly. "What? How? He lost his ship."

"Of course he did. I sent him out in a barely spaceworthy ship. That caravel was retired twenty years ago, right after Korriban. The cooling turbines were completely stuck. I'm surprised the deck crew could even get it to fly again."

Vyhra wasn't getting it. "Why?"

Her mother pressed a few more buttons on the side of the holotable, and the images of the three corsairs appeared again in the air. "Do you recognize these ships?"

"No," Vyhra said crossly. It would be great if Mother could answer my questions with, you know, actual answers.

The Darth silently regarded her for a long moment. When she spoke again, her tone was curt. "The corsairs. This Rodian was their leader." She pressed another button. "Do you recognize him?"

Vyhra suddenly felt like she was standing on very dangerous ground. Unfortunately, she didn't recognize the pale green alien on the display. "No. I don't know him."

"I hosted him in this very room four weeks ago. You were present, at least physically. Evidently your focus was elsewhere at the time." Salire pointed to the ground directly in front of her. "Come here," she commanded.

Vyhra seethed against the punishment she knew was coming, but her earlier cockiness had abandoned her. She obeyed, walking to the other side of the holotable and coming to a halt directly in front of her mother.

It was easy for Vyhra to forget that Salire was not just her mother, not just an accomplished politician, but also a powerful practitioner of the dark side. It had been months since Vyhra saw the Darth use her powers. Until a few years ago, Salire had spent three hours each day tutoring the rapidly-maturing Vyhra in Sith sorcery. Now, the few hours per week that they did spend together was entirely focused on furthering Salire's political influence in the Empire.

But she remembered now. She remembered the Force lightning, the mind tricks — being tossed across a room like a child's toy, flung by her mother's will and command of the Force. She lowered her eyes and steeled herself against the onslaught.

Darth Salire slapped her.

The relief Vyhra felt at first quickly evolved into shame and outrage. Vyhra's face stung. She raised her eyes and balled her fists at her sides, glaring down at the Darth.

"You wish to kill me for insulting you," Salire said lightly. She did not step back.

Vyhra didn't try to hide it. "Yes."

Salire nodded. "Most apprentices wish to kill their masters, at least at some point. Perhaps we'll make a proper Sith of you yet."

"I'm not just an apprentice, Mother," Vyhra snapped, turning away to lean on the holotable. "I'm also your daughter. Your heir. But you treat me like a slave." She turned back, throwing her hands up in frustration. "All I've been doing lately is going to business meetings and sneaking around in disguise as June Costero."

Salire sighed audibly and reached for the holotable's control panel. The images flickered and then vanished. "I wish I could send you to the Academy, Vyhra."

The young Sith raised her chin defiantly. "I would excel. You know I would."

The Sith Lord nodded. "You are very talented, as I hoped you'd be."

"So send me there. Let me test myself against my peers, as a Sith should."

"If I were not a Darth, perhaps. Or, if I were a less successful one. But I have powerful enemies. They would assassinate you at the first opportunity out of a desire to weaken me."

Vyhra patted the saberstaff on her back. "There's a simple solution to that. I'll kill them."

Salire was unable to conceal a very slight smile. "If they attacked you outright, you might," Salire responded, resuming her usual somber demeanor. "But they would not. My enemies could bribe every last one of your classmates with immense wealth and power. They would construct events to make your death look like a training casualty. " The Darth gave her daughter a pointed look. "You are powerful with the dark side, Vyhra, but you lack the experience to deal with that kind of situation."

I'm not going to get any more experienced by staying corralled on this ship, Vyhra thought. But she remained silent.

Darth Salire continued. "I'm not one of those foolish Sith Lords who hope to become immortal, like our Emperor. What I have built, however — what I am now putting in motion — must continue after I am gone. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that my operations continue." The Darth leaned forward, propping her hands on the dormant holotable. "Right now, my plan requires Vale and June Costero to attend business meetings. You must stop this petulant behavior and recommit yourself to these efforts."

Vyhra had to ask. "What if I don't?"

"Then I will find another heir," the Darth responded flatly.

The younger woman took a long time to respond. "What do I have to do?"

Satisfied, Darth Salire stood, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "These mercenaries must be dealt with. As I hoped he would, Marius concluded that some entity wanted to prevent his arrival at the festival. But I expected him to call for help after the corsairs' attack. I didn't foresee that he would procure his own ship."

Vyhra shrugged. "He got lucky. Some cargo vessel must have come along at the right time."

Salire nodded, running a gloved hand through her sleek blonde hair. "In any case, Marius is proving more resourceful than I expected. We cannot risk him tracking down the mercenaries and discovering that I hired them."

"So you want me to go after the mercenaries."

Salire nodded again. "Yes, with Ciaran's assistance."

Vyhra scowled. "I'm sure I can deal with them on my own."

Salire responded without missing a beat. "I intend for you and he to take on more significant targets in a few months. You need to practice working together."

"Really, Mother, I'm sure I can handle it by myself," Vyhra pouted. She wasn't going to win this argument, but she had to try.

Salire took her daughter by the elbow and led her to the door. "Girl, a Sith uses all the resources available to her. The Emperor doesn't run all parts of the Empire by himself, no?"

"But..."

"Enough with your arguments," Salire said firmly, opening the door to the hallway. "You and Ciaran will go tomorrow. Now, go recover some of that sleep you were complaining about earlier."

Vyhra faced her master and bowed low, trying to hide her frustration.