The Sanctuary of Regret

Chapter Twenty-One

Liatrix gazed up at Theron with half-hooded eyes, their bodies swaying in time with the slow festive music. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she whispered.

"I'd bet on it," he murmured. "C'mon, let's take this party somewhere a little more comfortable."

She trailed her fingers down his chest to linger over his abdomen. "Where did you have in mind?"

"My quarters?"

"Perfect."

A set of approaching footfalls pattered up the hallway—light, efficient, steps. "Someone's got bad timing," Theron whispered.

"It's Lana." Liatrix eyed her chrono. "Surely the party can't be over already."

"She's probably coming to see what's keeping you."

Liatrix sighed and doused the glow rod. "I suppose it'd be pointless to hide under my desk?"

"It's usually the first place they look."

"Did you learn that in spy school?"

"More like on-the-job training."

The lightning bright flash of overhead lights heralded Lana's arrival. "There you are," she said, her thumb running against the side of her datapad.

Liatrix and Theron squinted like a pair of Loth-bats rudely evicted from their cave during daylight hours. Realizing they'd forgotten the glasses and the bottle of Darkoma, Liatrix shifted to block them from view a little too late.

"What were you two doing in the dark?" No sooner had the words left her a look of dawning came over her. "I mean—actually, that doesn't matter," she stammered. "I need to talk to you both, it's important."

"What's the matter?" Liatrix asked.

Theron perched on the corner of the desk and crossed his arms. "You look worried."

"It's because I am. One of Hylo's carriers intercepted a distress call not far from Taris. He was about to leave the system when the Eternal Fleet, including Arcann's flagship, showed up to engage a private craft. I thought you'd want to hear it."

"What would they be doing all the way over there?" Liatrix asked.

"I'm afraid I have more questions than answers at the moment, Commander." Lana tapped her datapad and set it on the desk to replay.

The recording crackled and hissed. Barely audible over the static pops, a gravelly male voice shouted, "This Captain Andronikos Revel to any Imperial vessel. Come in! The Empress is under attack—I repeat, Empress Nox is under attack! Need immediate assistance at these coordinates, Revel out."

"Revel—he's the one I stole the ship from on Asylum."

"The very same," Lana agreed. "Whatever they were doing, I suspect it was important to the Empress. Revel is one of her most trusted associates—even if he is a pirate."

"Do we have anything more to go on?" Theron said, straightening.

"Hylo's pilot returned to the scene after the fleet had departed but what he found wasn't encouraging—a ship matching the signature of the distress beacon was found obliterated."

"What about the Captain and Nox? Were they killed?" Liatrix asked.

"I don't think so, Commander. I think Arcann is smarter than that—he's taken them prisoner."

Theron nodded. "But why? What would he have to gain?"

Liatrix tapped the edge of her desk and moved toward the ready room's viewport. "Maybe he wants something Nox has and wants it badly enough to risk provoking the Empire—it's not as if they could stand up to him…but why there? Taris is a dump."

"Given her sphere of influence, perhaps she was searching for some lost artifact, but I don't think that's what's important here," Lana said.

Liatrix hit the replay button and folded her arms as she pored over the recording.

"Even though we've disabled most of the star fortresses, there are still restrictions against the Empire—being out that far would be a treaty violation—but I doubt Arcann and his whole fleet would show up to enforce that. There's something bigger going on," Theron said.

"Question is, what are we going to do about it? We can't just leave them to Arcann," Liatrix said, the words tumbling out with speedy determination. "Nox is our ally—she and Darth Vowrawn both supported my father when he was alive."

"Maybe we should contact Vowrawn—see if he can shed some light on all this and help us put together a rescue op," Theron suggested, his attention landing on the door at the sign of movement.

"Not unless you're willing to hold a séance," Jonas Balkar called out as he sauntered into the ready room. "Vowrawn's dead."

The distinguished, fair-haired man who had returned with Jonas lurked on the threshold, his gaze sharp and alert.

Lana's eyes widened. "What? That can't be—surely you're mistaken."

"I know it's not what you wanna hear—I'm sorry."

The blonde's already pale flesh grew paler. "But how? When?"

"Just got word from my contacts on Fhost. They tell me the Sith empress, her captain and a blast from our past," Jonas looked at Liatrix meaningfully, "Captain Gwanshoo, limped into port—their ship practically on its last thruster. Where ever they were, whatever scrap they were in, cost 'em big."

"How did Vowrawn die?" Lana pressed.

Liatrix eyed the newcomer warily. "Before we go any further, I think introductions are in order. We haven't been properly introduced."

"My apologies, Commander," Lana began. "He's one of our contacts from Nar Shaddaa—Jonas has known him a long time."

Jonas snorted. "Too long."

The stranger pushed past the others. "Darmas Pollaran at your service. You must be the Alliance Commander, I've heard so much about," he said, with a formal bow. "May I say, you're far more lovely than I was led to believe. Jonas, my friend, you were holding out on me."

"Didn't think it was important," Jonas muttered.

"It's not, but thank you." Liatrix offered her hand. "A pleasure to meet you Darmas—your accent—you're from the Republic, but your manners are Imperial."

"Beautiful and observant, I'm impressed," he said, taking her hand.

Liatrix broke their handshake, despite Darmas's lingering hold. "And you're charming. You must be an agent. That would explain a few things."

"A long time ago, m'dear, but I'm sure you understand, once in the game, always a player."

"All too well, I'm afraid. So, Jonas and Lana recruited you to the Alliance?"

"In a manner of speaking, I think it would be more accurate to say, I volunteered to join your worthy cause. I must say I'm quite impressed by what you've built here in such a short time."

"It was hardly a solo effort, but thanks. Expanding Intelligence is a priority, so any friend of these two," Liatrix said, glancing between Jonas and Lana, "is a friend of mine. I'm sure your expertise will be an asset. Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, Commander. I shall endeavor to do all I can to merit your trust," Darmas said, canting his head, with a sly twitch of his brow.

Her smile failed to reach her eyes and she receded to her desk to put distance between them. "You've been to the infirmary for your inoculation? There's a virus going around."

"I have indeed. Major Quinn was quite insistent we receive our shots upon arrival. No doubt the reason I saw no evidence of contagion," Darmas said. "You run a tight ship."

"I'm fortunate to be surrounded by good people."

Theron eyed Darmas intently and offered his hand. "Theron Shan. We'll likely be working together then."

"Shan—surely not related to—"

Theron cut him off and rolled his eyes, "—the late Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, yes."

"Is that so? I was going to say, Lemmy Shan—owner of Lemmy's café on Coruscant—best Jawa juice in the galaxy—I practically had to torture the recipe out of him before I left."

Theron's eyes darkened into a probing stare and Darmas chuckled. "I'm joking, of course," he said, throwing his hands up in playful surrender.

"Oh-kay. That was not what I was expecting you to say—and no—no relation to Lemmy so you're outta luck if you're looking for a flat cake recipe." Theron ran his hand over the nape of his neck and looked away.

Jonas frowned and rewarded Darmas's amusement with a sharp side-eye.

Liatrix's gaze shifted between them. "I know the place. In fact, it's where I met Jonas, several years ago. Now that we have that out of the way, what happened to Vowrawn?"

"Not sure," Jonas rocked back on his heels as he spoke. "They said his body looked like it had undergone severe trauma—like he'd been stoned to death. After they cremated him, Nox and Revel split on some second-hand P.O.S. they picked up. Gwanshoo and her crew didn't linger either. They were outta there faster than a greased-up blaster bolt."

"Did you try to reach her?"

"No dice. They've gone to ground. Reckon we won't be seeing them for a while."

Liatrix nodded. "Gwanshoo learned the hard way to disappear after the sticky jobs."

"Yeah, last time she ended up in Coruscant Detention."

"How could I forget? So many reminders of the past today…" A faraway look darkened Liatrix's eyes but was gone just as quickly as it appeared and her gaze hardened.

Lana sighed. "Darth Nox must've compensated the smuggler and her crew handsomely to ensure their silence. I doubt she'd want Vowrawn's death to become public knowledge until she has matters in hand."

"Without Nox and Vowrawn—the Empire is facing a power vacuum—not a situation I want to see prolonged. At least with them, we knew what we were dealing with. If this were to get out, it could be a problem," Liatrix said. "All we'd need right now is for someone to stage a coup."

Theron rounded the desk and logged onto the holonet via his facial implants. "Gonna see what I can shake loose. This reeks of a trap—Arcann wants us to come looking, he's trying to force our hand—make us come to him."

Lana pursed her lips. "I agree. Still, there's no guarantee we'd respond—Sith are every bit as likely to leave a rival to die than rescue them. Arcann knows the Commander is Sith."

"She was a Jedi before that." Jonas snapped and turned away from the others.

"And now I'm commander of this alliance."

Darmas tracked his son's reaction and watched the gathering impassively.

Liatrix's gaze panned from face to face, her interest fixing on Darmas. There was a familiarity about him she couldn't immediately place. They'd never met before and yet he reminded her of someone else. He caught her gaze and held it longer than most would deem polite. She looked away quickly and turned her attention back to Jonas and Lana.

"Common knowledge, Jonas." A flair of impatience seized Lana's tone before she resumed her normal placidity. "No doubt Arcann is banking on a display of loyalty or conscience on the Commander's part—it's a calculated risk based on what he knows about her—which is why I think we should refuse the bait."

Theron rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "It's obviously a trap. I'm with Lana—at least for the time being. If we stage a rescue, it'll be on our timetable, not his."

"What could Nox possibly offer him?" Liatrix thought aloud. "He has wealth, power…the eternal fleet…"

"Perhaps companionship," Lana offered.

"Because seizing someone's craft and taking them prisoner reeks of romance," Liatrix teased.

"Point taken, Commander."

Liatrix's smile faded, pensiveness framing her face like a mask. "Seizing a ship…taking prisoners…" she muttered under her breath. "What does he want?"

It doesn't have to be this way…

Seven words that haunted her as surely as the vision in the brazier. Her right hand opened and closed involuntarily, craving the weight of a weapon and the voices around her grew blurred and distant until Theron's cut through the distortion to bring her back to the moment.

"Aw hell," Theron groaned. "You're gonna want to see this." He adjusted his cybernetics to link up with the holo console behind the desk. "Enhance image fifty percent and increase volume by ten units."

Arcann's image towered over the console. With his hands clasped stalwartly behind his back, he resembled a potent alabaster pillar—a symbol of strength and righteousness, if not tainted by the metal eclipse shadowing his face and ruined arm.

"Outlander, if you wish the safe return of the Empress and her pilot to the Sith Empire, you will face me alone on Zakuul where you and I once spoke about what our worlds can achieve together if we were both free to rule our respective empires—goals you and I both believed were important from the moment you were brought before Valkorion. If you disregard my invitation then my judgment is death. I harbor no love for your Empire—it will burn."

The residue of Arcann's voice hung over the ready room like an impending storm.

"Nothing cryptic about that—he certainly states his intentions quite clearly," Lana observed.

Liatrix scowled and shook her head. "He has some nerve broadcasting this. It's the last thing we needed—what the Empire needed. Even if we manage to rescue Nox—they'll imply she's weak."

"To tell you the truth, the whole thing strikes me a bit odd, but I can't quite put my finger on why yet," Theron grumbled.

Seven seconds passed and the message repeated. Seven seconds after that it repeated again.

"Shut it off. Sonuvabish has got it looped," Jonas barked.

"If there was even a semblance of doubt before, I think this message validates our theory that it's a trap, Commander."

"I agree, Lana—but something's off like Theron said. It's not just a trap, he's trying to throw the galaxy into chaos. Who knows who might have intercepted this? I don't like it."

"Gonna run it backward, filter it…maybe there's something embedded in it," Theron said more to himself than to the group.

Darmas narrowed his eyes. "Mind recording it for me, Agent Shan? I'll take a crack at it—but I work best alone."

"Sure thing, Darmas." Theron recorded the message and tossed the datapad to the older man.

Darmas trapped the device deftly. "Seven seconds—seems like strange interval choice."

Jonas ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "What was all that about being free to rule and goals…the hell was that about?"

Liatrix paced and clasped her forehead. "It feels like a lifetime ago," she began. "After the Eternal Empire disabled the Erinyes, we had few options—the power core was strained, our shields depleted—hyperdrive completely burned out. Our fighters—obliterated. After they boarded and executed the bridge crew, my father and I knew it was the end—we were surrounded—we had nothing left except each other and a broken ship. We decided it was enough, so we decided to ram the Eternal Fleet with as much speed we could muster—take out as many of them as we could in our last moments—a final act of defiance." Her voice quavered and took on a gentler timber that she usually reserved for loved ones.

"Your father—was Darth Marr?" Darmas prodded.

"Yeah. Forgive me, it's still a bit difficult to talk about that moment."

Theron glanced up sympathetically. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She turned her back to the group and clasped her hands behind her back. "We had the satisfaction of taking out their command ship before…before everything went dark. I'm not sure how long I was out for, but when I woke, I was in their brig and locked in stun cuffs. I wasn't even sure at that point if my father was alive."

"It must have been difficult," Lana said quietly.

"Thanks, I appreciate that. Anyway, I thought I was alone in there—but I wasn't, Arcann was with me. He wasn't hostile but I was, at first. No matter what I said or did, he wouldn't leave. Eventually, we started talking and struck a deal.

"I agreed to help him assassinate his father and take over the Eternal Empire and in return, Arcann would let us go home. It was the perfect plan, right up until father and I were brought before Valkorion.

"That's where everything went to hell. We realized he was really Vitiate…everything happened so fast. Father wouldn't take a knee," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "And Valkorion killed him.

"I never told him about the plan—even if I could've told him, he would never have agreed. He would've hated me for throwing in with Arcann," she whispered, her voice faltering.

"I had to survive for my children and with father's death, I had even more reason to want to see Valkorion dead. Arcann freed me and while he distracted his father, I killed him…the rest you know. He betrayed me."

"And he would again," Lana said gently.

Theron nodded. "You did what you did to survive, any of us would've done the same and you had two very good reasons."

"Arcann's a fool if he thinks I'd ever trust him again."

Lana nodded. "I never quite understood your reasons when we spoke before…but I do now and I apologize for being harsh to you. There were other factors in play as well."

Jonas looked away.

"I'm sorry too, Lana," Liatrix said quietly. "I was unfair to you and ungrateful."

"It was a stressful time for both of us, Commander, and it belongs in the past." Lana sighed and collected her datapad. "It's been a long night and we have much work ahead of us."

Theron nodded. "Yeah, why don't we call it? Meet up in the morning—sort this out when we're fresh. Still have to brief Quinn and Senya too."

"Agreed," Lana said.

"Commander, it was my great pleasure finally meeting you," Darmas called out before taking his leave.

"Likewise," Liatrix agreed, her gaze following him out of the room. Once she was certain he was well out of earshot, she turned to Jonas and Lana—"When you get a minute—I want to talk to you about Darmas. I want to know who he is exactly."

"I'll prepare a personnel report, listing his qualifications and history," Lana offered.

Jonas started for the door but before walking through it, he turned to Lana. "There's something we need to talk about—it's important."

"Will it keep until tomorrow? It's been a long night."

"Yeah—it'll keep."

After the room emptied, Theron pulled Liatrix close. "Well, that didn't go as I'd hoped."

"No kidding. Next time, we hide under the desk and take the bottle with us."

Theron chuckled. "Bet you're exhausted. Let me walk you back to your quarters—I'll stay if you want me to."

"I'd like that—but maybe a rain cheque on the sleepover? So we can do it up right. I want it to be special."

"Sure. C'mon. Morning comes too fast around here," he said, gently steering her out of the ready room.

Darmas sauntered toward the quarters he'd been assigned upon arrival and stopped at the sound of rapid footfalls behind him.

"Forget something, m'boy?"

"What the hell was that in there?" Jonas snarled and threw up his arms.

"What the hell was…what?" Darmas pocketed the datapad and eyed Jonas placidly.

"You know damn well, whatever game you were playing in there," Jonas growled, jabbing a finger into his father's chest. "She doesn't trust you, you know."

"Nor should she. We've only just met. I see why you wouldn't show me her holo-pic—it wouldn't do her justice."

"What even makes you think I'd have one?"

"Remember who you're talking to." Darmas tugged Jonas to him roughly and extracted the bulging leatheris folder in his breast pocket.

"Hey!" Jonas protested, trying to fight the wallet away from his father. "That's private."

"And I know why." Darmas flicked to the hidden fold in the wallet to present the evidence. "Let me guess, you took this just after you met…how sweet. Bet you knew even then you wouldn't keep her."

Jonas snatched his wallet back and crammed it into his jacket. "What the hell is your problem? If you've got something to say, say it!"

"Oh, I've got something to say all right. Don't ruin your damn life. Look at you. You're damaged goods. She's going to end up killing you."

"I'm fine. You don't know a thing about me."

"Sure I do. Thirty-seven years ago…I was you." Darmas dug into his breast pocket and extracted his wallet and split it apart. "Take a good long look."

Jonas's mouth fell open as he took Darmas' wallet. "The hell? Who is she—they could be twins…"

"That, m'boy, is your Commander's mother…Liaseph. I spent part of an afternoon with her once. Spent a week in a kolto tank after that."

Jonas snorted. "What she do?"

"She didn't do anything—her owner threw me off the roof. If it wasn't for my rocket boots, I'd have smashed every vertebrae instead of just three. I deserved it. Then I tried to make it right, but like me, my superior didn't put much stock in a pleasure slave's request so it wasn't passed on—not until much later."

"What'd she want?"

"Darth Marr…she wanted him to know where she was. She loved him." Darmas sighed. "Long story short, they found their way to each other and I was exiled to the Republic for my trouble. So long as Marr lived, I was banned from setting a foot back into the Empire and the rest m'boy, is history. Want to know the kicker?"

"A'right, I'll bite."

"She was perfect, but that wasn't good enough for the slavers…it took me a long time to figure out what it was that made her so compelling—it's not like I'm any stranger to beautiful women, but she was unforgettable and here's why—they altered her genetics and turned her into a living drug. The worst sort of drug imaginable and for some of us there's no cure—not really. You learn to accept it, ignore it, but it's always there. You know those shots we were given earlier?"

"Yeah?"

"There's no virus. She's figured it out. She's protecting herself."

Jonas passed the wallet back to his father. "I don't know what you expect me to do…if you're right, I can't help myself, even with the shot."

Darmas grabbed Jonas's lapels and stared into his face. "I want you to get clean. Lay off the damn spice, cut back the booze…and keep your distance from her. And cut your wife loose—that's just pathetic. She's not a bad sort, but even she deserves better than you."

"You done?"

"Whatever you believe—you're all I've got, m'boy," he said, releasing him. "I don't want to see you mess up—or worse. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

"You really think there's anything to that message?"

"I know there is. I just have to find it." Darmas's lip crept up slyly.

"Pfft, good luck. Sometimes a threat is just a threat."

"And that attitude is why Imperial agents will always prevail. You SIS boys give up too easy…except for your friend, Shan—he has potential."

"I'm every bit the agent he is…"

"Then prove it." Darmas keyed in his entry code and went inside without looking back.

Inside, Darmas poured himself a finger of the Corellian whiskey he'd brought with him and settled into his workstation. He set Arcann's message to play allowing the loop to run.

He closed his eyes and pictured the words in his mind, idly experimenting with different combinations…anagrams and then it occurred to him. "Scan and display frequency…"

He took a swig of his drink as the progress bar crept across his screen before flashing the result—77.7 microhertz.

"Interesting choice…seventy-seven point seven…on a seven-second loop. Seven is the key…display transmission—text version."

The computer converted the audio into a text statement and Darmas edged closer to the monitor and rubbed his eyes. "Filter…remove all but every seventh word."

The progress bar inched across his display. "Come on…" he muttered. He reached for the bottle to refill his drink and his eyes widened at the final result. He set the bottle aside in the deliberate fashion that comes with tantalizing distraction. "I knew it."

Return to me. I can free you from Valkorion, my love.

"Fascinating," Darmas murmured under his breath. "What a heartbreaker you are, Commander—just like your mother…perhaps it's time you used your powers for good…"

A huddle of oversized rats flew apart under the bright scrutiny of the incoming shuttle. The Sky Princess II drifted inside the Zakuulan sewer system until it came to a near silent stop deep within the planet's underbelly. The hydraulics hissed as the boarding ramp lowered.

He tugged his hood lower, to better hide his features as he descended. On and on, he crept through the dark labyrinth, his footfalls marked by the splashes of broken puddles.

He thought on the threat issued by the Zakuulan Emperor over the holonet and smirked. While Arcann waited for his Outlander, a far more dangerous threat loomed.

At last, he would have his vengeance against the man who destroyed all that mattered to him and he would enjoy the reaction of those who had left him for dead on a twisted world.

Vengeance was coming and it had a name—Scourge.

((to be continued…))