Chapter 14
Morda was calm as they approached the doors of the Dark Council chamber. Waiting for them were Darth Vowrawn and another Sith, one who looked familiar to Quinn but whom he couldn't place.
"My lord," said the Sith. He bowed low. "I swore I would see your designs fulfilled and I am here now as a show of loyalty to you. Woe to those who would choose Baras over you."
"Lord Rathari. I am pleased to see you." Morda gave the man a respectful nod.
Quinn remembered then. Lord Rathari was the first Sith that Quinn had seen Morda spare after a battle. He had been baffled by her show of mercy at the time, not recognizing her vision or understanding her true talents of persuasion. How long ago that seemed now.
"Baras is in there," said Vowrawn, "fluffling himself up before the Council. Show him his error and let him fall before the Emperor's will."
"I look forward to it." Morda nodded to each of them in turn and walked down the red carpet towards the tall double doors at the end. She paused and Quinn caught her glance his way. She needn't say a word; Quinn saw everything she wanted to say in her eyes. Either they would leave the chamber triumphant, or they would both die. Morda was confident, but it was not the unexamined, reckless confidence of youth that lit her red eyes aglow. She was wary, Quinn knew, accepting of the enormity of this task and the repercussions which would affect them all. If they did not come out of this alive, it would not be through ignorance of the the enemy they faced. Morda was as prepared as she could ever be. If she died this day, Quinn would see her die a warrior, and he would be honored to fall at her side.
"I am ready, my lord." He held her gaze. She nodded, pushed open the doors and stepped into the chamber.
"That better be Darth Vowrawn." Baras dominated the middle of the chamber, with the members of the Dark Council seated on a dais around him. He was as arrogant as ever, daring to expose his back for the precious seconds it took for him to make a slow and casual turn.
"You were not expecting me Baras? I would have thought that the Emperor, given his close relationship with you, would have informed you that I was coming."
"Is this a joke? You are not welcome here, youngster. Leave the important discussions to your betters."
Morda stepped forward until she shared the center spotlight with Baras. She swiveled and addressed each of the Council members in turn.
"I am the Emperor's Wrath, chosen by the supreme master himself. I know his will, and I tell you now: Baras is not the Voice."
There were murmurs from the assembled darths, but no one challenged her. Nor, Quinn noticed, did they stick up for Baras either.
Finally, one of the seated lords stood and spoke. "What is this, Vowrawn? Why do you disrupt the Council by bringing this Sith here who is not one of us?"
Vowrawn stepped up to his vacant chair, his ever present smile giving bravado to his words. "Listen to the Wrath. You have been deceived my friends. Baras has been playing you all along in an elaborate grab for power."
"Pathetic," Baras said. "You refuse to accept reality, Vowrawn. This Sith, my failed former apprentice, is not the Emperor's Wrath. Destroy her and we will get on with our meeting."
Another Sith rose. "I will not risk angering the Emperor. Let there be a duel. We will know then that the one who lives speaks truth."
"I agree to those terms," Morda said.
Baras sighed, as if this whole conversation was a mild annoyance. "Fine. The Master will grant the slave's last wish. The Emperor awaits your death, Morda. And he shall have it."
Morda drew her lightsaber, and it blazed to life with a hiss. "I have never been, and never will be, your slave." She leapt into the air.
Baras was immediately forced onto the defensive. Their blades skittered against each other with a buzz until Baras threw Morda backwards with a wave of his hand. Morda was on her feet again in an instant, driving home a flurry of strikes. Quinn watched, his muscles tense, as Morda danced on the balls of her feet, twisting and spinning, always just out of Baras's reach. The Council members were silent, but Quinn could see that they were riveted, their eyes pinned to every move. Were they already calculating who would win?
Baras was slower and clumsier than Morda, but he was clearly strong in the Force. Arcs of lightning jumped along his fingers and bolts shot out at Morda during moments when she was the most vulnerable. There was a collective hiss of surprise when one of Morda's blades nicked Baras in the arm, causing him to stumble.
Baras threw himself into the battle with renewed vigor, pounding his feet against the ground, creating a ripple of lightning that snaked across the floor. Morda was momentarily stunned, and in that instant, Baras raised her into the air, Force choking her.
Quinn held his breath, his own memories of being so attacked by Baras sending a wave of revulsion through him. Morda struggled and Quinn clenched his fists, knowing that he should not interfere yet. Once he took action, his own death would be a given. He would not stand by and watch Morda die, however. He would only act if Morda's life were on the line.
He must have been broadcasting his thoughts unintentionally, because Baras's head snapped around and Quinn was pinned under the cold, empty stare of his mask. Baras dropped Morda to the ground, leaving her to lie on the floor in a gasping heap.
"Quinn." Bara's voice rippled through the chamber and wormed into Quinn's mind like the wriggles of a maggot, grotesque and unbearable. Quinn stared into his blank face and prepared for the worst.
"You cowardly traitor," Baras said. "How dare you show your face here. You failed me utterly. Do you even know who you serve?"
"I am no longer conflicted, Darth Baras." Qunin's voice sounded thin and small in the vast, open space of the council room. He raised his voice to better match the conviction behind his next words. "I know where my loyalties lie...and it is not to you."
Baras's voice roared through the chamber. "You miserable pile of dung! I will see that your suffering is prodigious!"
A flash of light seared across Quinn's retinas and suddenly he was staring up at the ceiling, having no memory of how he had ended up on the ground. Pain shot through his limbs, hot and furious, and Quinn curled into himself, letting loose a scream. Around him lightning hissed, and Quinn smelled smoke and burning hair. His throat was on fire, though whether it was from screaming or the lightning itself he didn't know. Time lost all meaning. One moment he was swallowed in darkness and the next he felt engulfed in flame.
Another scream, this one not his own, tore through the air. The pain vanished and a shadow fell across his closed eyelids. Quinn blinked and there was Lord Morda, standing over him, her lightsaber held before her like a brand of fire. There was another crackle of lightning, and Quinn flinched involuntarily, but no pain assaulted him this time. Instead, an array of sparks deflected off of Morda's brilliant red blade and she trudged forward as if slogging through mud, pushing back the arc that streamed from Baras's hands.
Quinn's consciousness winked in and out, the sounds of battle rising and falling in his ears. Distantly he heard Baras chiding Lord Morda.
"Your feelings for this Force-blind are weak and foolish. Why do you defend him?"
"This fight is between you and me, Baras."
The clash of blades sounded again and the floor beneath Quinn trembled under the weight of their leaps and blows. Quinn saw Morda briefly, tilted sideways in his vision, twirling on her feet like a dancer. He blinked and she was gone, the battle having shifted out of his range of vision. He stared at his arm laying in front of his face, noticing that all the hairs were singed clean off and his fingers were twitching of their own accord. His heart beat erratically in his chest.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but dimly he became aware that the sounds of battle had ceased. He willed himself back to consciousness and did his best to pry open his eyes.
Morda was standing in the center of the floor, her back to him. At her feet lay the large, still shape of Baras's body. She looked up at the council, most of whom were now on their feet.
Quinn may have been born without any Force sensitivity, but even he could feel the energy in the room at that moment, the surprise, and yes even the fear. Darth Vowrawn was sitting back in his chair, his smile smug and exultant. Quinn slowly sat up, his arms shaking and his body drenched in sweat.
"Let the enemies of the Empire tremble!" Darth Vowrawn left his chair and raised his arms to the sky. "The Emperor's Wrath shall consume them all!"
Quinn stared at Morda's hand as she came and held it out to him. Behind her, the body of Darth Baras lay motionless, his mask up-ended and strewn on the floor at his side. Quinn got to his feet and took a tentative step forward. Baras was bald, his face wrinkled and scarred, his skin turned pale as the color of ash from years of dark side rage.
He tore his eyes away and found Morda watching him closely.
"Baras is dead then," Quinn said. His voice was hoarse and scratchy.
"Yes."
Then it is truly over. I am free of him at last.
00o00
"So, what do you know about this planet?" Morda adjusted the straps on her seat harness and peered out the window of the tiny spacecraft. How this ship was supposed to get them through Makeb's volatile atmosphere in one piece she couldn't guess. She had to trust that the pilot was true to his word. He'd assured them that a smaller ship was preferable when it came to navigating the planet's electromagnetic interference. If he was wrong, there would be hell to pay.
"I pulled Makeb's tourism profile, my lord. The resort prices are staggering." Quinn flipped open a pocket on the chair's armrest, discovered a bottle of space sickness pills and dropped them back in again. "Far above a captain's salary," he added.
"Moff Broysc is a danger to the Empire and everyone in it, not to mention that you deserve to see this through. I don't mind burning through some credits for that."
"Thank you, my lord. Your generosity is well appreciated."
It had been two months since Morda had struck down Baras. During that interval, Quinn had needed some time to recover from his ordeal facing Baras's attack, and the rest of the crew had been awarded a much deserved vacation. But Morda was itchy now for action.
"Where to first?" Morda wasn't used to giving someone else the reins when it came to making major decisions and it felt odd to be deferring to Quinn. This was Quinn's doing however, and ultimately would be his triumph. Morda found herself genuinely eager to see him succeed.
"We'll check in at the resort and then see if that data spike Vette gave us does the trick. Once we get into their security and booking system, I should be able to track down Broysc."
"Right. I'll just find a nice mineral salt bath to soak in while I wait." She paused and then glanced over at Quinn. His face was impassive and blank. "Just kidding, Quinn."
"Well." He cracked a smile. "I never know with you my lord."
The ship shuddered underneath them as the engines engaged and the pilot's voice came over the intercom from the cockpit.
"Arrival will be in a little over an hour. Don't hesitate to take the sick pills or calming drops if you need them." The intercom clicked off.
"Do the tourists go through this too, I wonder?" Morda stared at the glowing spaceport lights as they passed by. The ship broke through into open space and picked up speed.
"I believe the conditions on and around the planet have worsened recently, my lord."
"Well, we should have no trouble booking a room then."
00o00
The elevator carried Quinn up to the higher levels of the resort. Outside the glass, a wall of colorful iridescent tile shimmered in the lights, reflecting Quinn's face and body back at him as a ghostly double. Quinn touched the data spike in his pocket, waiting for Morda's signal. Finally it came.
"I've spotted him," she spoke into his ear piece. "He's here on the barge all right, sitting at one of the gambling tables. One of his bodyguards is with him."
"Good," Quinn said quietly. "Can you get any closer? Any sign of the second bodyguard?"
"No sign, but he can't be far. I'll sit at the table and see if I can get a listen."
An hour before, Quinn had fitted Morda with a microphone and transceiver and sent her out to the pleasure barge that was floating in the chasm just outside the resort. Quinn was too recognizable, but Moff Broysc would not know Morda, nor was he likely to question a Sith. If they could get some proof, maybe even a recording, demonstrating Broysc's lack of discretion, perhaps he could be persuaded to sign the resignation letter Quinn had written up. Quinn was not above threatening the moff's reputation in order to see him gone. The man had caused enough harm, had botched enough missions, and put too many lives in danger for Quinn to stand idly by any longer. He was here on Makeb now, relaxing and enjoying every pleasure money could offer while the rest of the Empire fought and died to win this war. It was a disgrace and the Empire would be better off without him. Also, he admitted, he would feel a deep personal satisfaction in taking Broysc down and letting him know that it had been Quinn who had orchestrated the end of his career, just as Broysc had tried to destroy Quinn's own career twelve years earlier.
The elevator opened and Quinn stepped into the hallway. Given Makeb's political unrest and increase in groundquake activity these past few months, there were few guests frequenting Makeb's normally popular vacation spots. Quinn continued down the empty corridor until he reached Broysc's suite. He paused at the door, hoping that Vette's spike would work. It slid into the door slot with a faint click. Quinn felt his stomach lurch when the light stayed red, but then, with a little jiggling, it turned green and the door unlatched and swung open.
As expected, Broysc's suite was ostentatious and gaudy. Quinn's feet sunk into the lush carpet as he entered the room, and he must have tripped some invisible sensor because there was a faint swish as an air freshener engaged and quiet music began to play from hidden speakers in the walls. Through an open doorway Quinn could see the bedroom and what looked like a small bar, and another doorway connected this suite to the one next to it, presumably for the use of Broysc's bodyguards. This room was had comfortable plush couches and a small datacenter located against the far wall. Vette's spike worked here too, thankfully, immediately giving him access to Broysc's hotel account. He had gotten a considerable discount on the room, Quinn saw, but he had made up for that by purchasing every amenity the resort offered.
Quinn flicked on his comm. "Vette, I've got the names of the bodyguards. Can you run them through?"
"Sure thing." Vette voice sounded tinny being broadcast from the Empire's station on one of the planet's gravity hooks. Quinn would have preferred that they do such delicate work from the ship's computers, but Makeb's volatile atmosphere interfered with comm signals and so they had been forced to abandon that option.
"Ok," Vette said. "Karatine Yavro, female human, clean record, a few commendations three years ago for superior performance in the field, was assigned to Broysc shortly after."
"And the second?"
"Officially Broysc doesn't have a second bodyguard, Quinn."
"Is that so? Interesting. What does the citizen registry have on the man?"
"Give me a minute...here...wait...yeah, here he is. He goes by numerous aliases, but most of them have the first name of Tibarr. Human male, wanted in three systems for armed robbery and weapons smuggling. Looks like he might have been contract hired as well. Definitely a shady guy. No wonder Broysc didn't want to put him officially on the payroll."
This could be good, Quinn thought. Hiring a common thug was clearly against regulations.
There was a burst of static and Morda's voice cut in. "Quinn, we've hit the motherlode. Broysc is causing a scene. I think he's trying to bet one of the ships in his fleet as collateral."
"Ludicrous. That man needs to be-" Quinn closed his mouth as a click was heard from the suite's door.
There was no time to find cover. Quinn aimed a paralyzer dart at the doorway and as soon as the bulky figure began to step through the door he released it. There was a grunt, and the second bodyguard - that's who it had to be because this was no chamber attendant, that's for sure - slumped against the door. The door flew open under his weight, banging loudly against the wall as the man collapsed to the ground. From the twitching of his right arm, it appeared he was struggling to reach his blaster, but realizing this was futile, he craned his head and glared at Quinn instead.
"You're Tibarr I presume." Quinn aimed his blaster at the man. He had only a few minutes before the effects from the dart wore off. He also had to make this quick before someone else came down the hall. His mind raced. Perhaps he could use this situation to his advantage.
"Who…" Tibarr was having difficulty speaking through his partial paralysis, causing his words to come out slurred. "...the hell are you?"
"You are not exactly in the position to be asking questions."
Tibarr squirmed about on the floor, trying in vain to get his limbs back under his control. Finally he slumped onto the carpet, his head skewed awkwardly in Quinn's direction.
"This could get ugly between us. But it doesn't have to end that way."
Tibarr gritted his teeth, either from pain or frustration. "Spit it out, man."
"Your employer's glory days are over," Quinn said. "Broysc is out there now, illegally gambling away the Empire's assets. He hired you, which is also illegal. When Broysc goes down, so will you."
Quinn crossed to the doorway and leaned over Tibarr, checking the hallway for any signs of life. It was still quiet. He pulled his head back in and stared down at Tibarr's prone body on the floor.
"I'll give you an out, Tibarr. You can work for me instead."
Tibarr laughed, a sound that came out more like a wheeze. "You could never pay as much."
Quinn raised his arm and aligned the blaster's sight at Tibarr's head. "Your payment will be getting to keep your life." He wouldn't shoot Tibarr here in the hotel unless he had to, but he would turn Tibarr over to the authorities.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to bring Moff Broysc to me, alive. Then I will pay for your safe passage off this planet."
Tibarr paused to consider this. "Broysc is a crazy bastard. You gonna kill him?"
"Answer my question. Yes or no."
"All right, I'll do it."
"Good. I will give you the coordinates for where to bring the moff." Quinn holstered his blaster and stepped over Tibarr. He paused in the hallway. "One more thing Tibarr. Don't try to run. The Sith that I work for will take out a bounty on your head - if she doesn't decide to hunt you down herself."