Thirty-Eight

Chiss warship Tempest

17 ATC

Under any other circumstances, Verani would have been annoyed to be interrupted in the middle of talks by a high-priority holocall. This time, however, she was grateful for the opportunity to get away from Mitth'elen'invari's icy red stare for a few moments. She made her excuses, ducked out of the conference room and into the nearest supply closet, and answered the call.

The projector in her handheld comm flickered as the encrypted connection was established, then produced a miniaturized image of Darth Ravage.

Verani's sense of relief vanished. This is it. I took too long, the Chiss won't agree, and now he's going to strangle me via holo.

"What can I do for you, my lord?" she asked, doing her best to keep her voice level as she fought to suppress panic.

"Verani," Ravage said, crossing his arms. "There has been a new development."

The panic came swarming back up to the surface, and she forced it down again. "A new development, my lord?"

Be reasonable, she told herself. Remote executions were not Ravage's style; he preferred a more personal touch. And if he were taking the time to call her, something very important was probably going on.

"This channel will only remain secure for a short time, so pay attention." Ravage sounded more irritated than usual. "Intelligence reports that elements within the Republic may be amenable to a peaceful resolution to the war. I need you to finish this business with the Chiss and return to Imperial space to prepare for this eventuality."

"Yes, my lord."

"Get to it, then. Ravage out."

The holo vanished. Verani slowly put away her comm, her mind already whirling with possibilities.

So, the Republic wanted peace—or at least, part of it did. After six years of bloody war that had accomplished very little for either side, that was not particularly surprising. What was surprising was how willing Ravage appeared to be to go along with it. Perhaps the rest of the Dark Council had forced his hand, somehow.

As she made her way back to the conference room, Verani found that she was rather excited by the prospect. If all went well, she would have a chance to pit herself against the finest diplomatic minds of the Republic. It would all have to be very secret, of course, all done behind Saresh's back for the remainder of her term, but if enough of the Senate wanted peace, they might be able to ensure that a more moderate individual be elected after her. An individual who might be open to Imperial interests.

Verani forced her mind back to the present. There was no sense in speculating until she had succeeded in her impossible task of convincing the Chiss to remain with the Empire.

A thought occurred to her, and she focused on it even as she re-entered the conference room and traded niceties with Mitth'elen'invari. The Aristocra spoke often of the Chiss lives lost for the Empire's war. If peace were now on the table…

The information was no doubt highly classified, but Ravage had given her no orders to not speak of it. She could drop a few hints, make a few carefully phrased implications. Perhaps this was the bargaining chip she needed.

Verani took her seat at the conference table and began laying the groundwork.

Kettrien was starting to question the point of it all.

She'd gone all the way out to the Unknown Regions, and then proceeded to have absolutely nothing to do. She would have considered it a vacation, but warships weren't exactly the most relaxing of locales. The Chiss wouldn't talk to her because of the language barrier, the fact that she was human, or both. The diplomats wouldn't talk to her because she was a Sith, with the exception of Vector. But he had places to be and things to do and she didn't, and so she found herself alone and bored.

She made her way over to the lounge. Even deserted, it was a considerably more interesting place than her cabin. The view of space was just as beautiful as ever, and she took a moment to admire it.

But starscapes, no matter how spectacular, could only hold one's interest for so long. The lounge also had a bar, and while no one had told Kettrien that it was available for use, no one had told her that it wasn't, either.

Upon moving behind the crescent-shaped metal counter, she discovered a series of cupboards secured with old-fashioned mechanical locks. She took the nearest one in her hand, concentrated, and manipulated the tumblers with a few delicate touches of the Force. The lock sprang open.

I hope this doesn't cause a diplomatic incident, Kettrien thought, opening the cupboard and perusing the contents. There were bottles in all manner of shapes, sizes, and colors. All were neatly labeled in a flowing script that may as well have been blank for all she understood it. But really, if they didn't want us coming in here, they surely would have said so…

She chuckled softly to herself and picked up a tall, slim glass bottle half-full of acid green liquid. The cap unscrewed quite easily, and she took a tentative sniff of the contents. It smelled like dead shyrack.

"Okay, not that one," Kettrien muttered. Wrinkling her nose, she quickly replaced the cap and returned the bottle to the cupboard.

An opaque red bottle with a long neck caught her eye. She removed it from the cupboard, then ducked down behind the bar. Apparently, the Chiss saw fit to lock up their liquor but not their glassware. Selecting something with similar dimensions to the standard shot glass—some things were fairly universal across species—she stood up, set the glass down on the bar with a clink, and popped out the bottle's stopper with a subtle touch of the Force.

She upended the bottle over the glass. A liquid as black as the empty void outside undulated out.

"That's…interesting," Kettrien muttered, lifting the glass and eyeing it dubiously. The black liquid seemed to absorb all incoming light. "I'm not sure I should drink this."

Then she shrugged and drank it anyway.

It was good. It was damn good. It was so good, in fact, that she found herself downing the rest of the glass and pouring another before she quite realized what she was doing.

"Whoa, now," she mumbled. "Easy there, Kettrien. This isn't happy hour at the Slopes."

She started to set the glass down, then jumped in surprise as Seeker of all people strode up behind the bar, reached into the cupboard, and grabbed a stout bottle of something bright blue. The contents of Kettrien's glass sloshed with her sudden movement, and she hastily finished setting it down before it could spill.

"Uh, hello sir," she blurted. "Fancy meeting you here?"

Seeker retrieved a glass from the cupboard under the bar, filled it with the bright blue liquid, and downed it all in one go. Kettrien stared.

"Agent Byrd," Seeker said coolly. She refilled her glass and drained it again, more slowly.

Apparently they were both going to pretend that they were not raiding a Chiss warship's liquor cabinet.

"So," Kettrien said, not wanting to let silence fall and make the situation even more bizarre and awkward. "How uh, how are the negotiations going?"

Seeker pressed her lips together tightly, her crimson eyes narrowing. "As well as can be expected." She poured herself a third glass of the blue stuff.

"Ah," Kettrien muttered. "So not well, then."

"Perhaps. There may yet be new developments." Seeker took a long, slow drink.

Kettrien looked back and forth from her glass to Seeker several times. One did not drink with one's boss in the Empire, especially when said boss was the head of one of the galaxy's most infamous intelligence organizations. Then again, Seeker didn't seem to be giving the proprieties much concern at that moment. In fact, this was the most blasé that Kettrien had ever seen her.

Or maybe, she thought, looking at her glass of black liquor, this is all a dream, and I'm really just passed out on the floor. In that case...may as well live a little.

She picked up the glass and took a sip. It went down silky smooth and left an aftertaste of spices and something vaguely floral. Delicious. Maybe she could smuggle the bottle back to the Empire.

"Do you have any family, Byrd?" Seeker asked abruptly.

Kettrien raised an eyebrow. "I thought that was in my file."

Seeker closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, and Kettrien got the sense she was staring at a point somewhere beyond her. "Refresh my memory."

"No family, sir." Kettrien frowned into her glass. A distinct tingling was starting to build up in the back of her skull. "Not for a long time."

"I see. No loose ends, then." Seeker took a drink, then shook her head. "I apologize. That was overly callous."

"It's fine," Kettrien assured her, perhaps too quickly. She wasn't sure where the conversation was going, but she didn't think she'd like it.

Seeker finished her drink and muttered something in the Chiss language, then set her glass down on the bar. "I believe we'll be leaving soon," she said in Basic. "Be ready."

She started to walk away, then paused. "Oh, and don't drink too much of that—" Several euphonious syllables followed. Kettrien doubted she could replicate any of them. "I believe one of the ingredients is toxic to humans in sufficient quantity."

With that, she left the room, and Kettrien was once again alone with her thoughts and a Chiss liquor cabinet.

She looked at her glass. There was a good amount left; it seemed a shame to waste it. The tingling sensation in the back of her head was getting stronger, though. Inebriation, or a reaction to whatever the stuff was made of?

Well, she hadn't learned how to use the Force to purge toxins from her system just so she could play things safe. Kettrien raised her glass towards the stars outside, then downed the contents.

"I agree to your terms," Mitth'elen'invari said gravely.

For a moment, Verani thought she'd misheard. "You do? I mean, of course you do. I'm pleased we could come to a satisfactory arrangement."

Mitth'elen'invari smiled a small, secretive smile that did nothing to make her face less cold. "I still have my concerns. But I've been convinced that this agreement will ultimately be in the Ascendancy's best interest."

Convinced, Verani thought. Not by me, surely. Seeker, perhaps? I haven't seen her in quite some time… "I assure you, Aristocra, the Empire will do its best to ensure that you have no cause to regret your decision."

"I'm sure you will."

"Then all that remains is the formal signing of the amended treaty." Verani tried to maintain her usual aplomb. It was difficult; relief was making her lightheaded. She wasn't going to be executed.

"Correct. I assume you wish to have that settled as soon as possible?"

"Yes—if it is convenient to you, of course."

"It is."

"If you wish any drastic alterations to the original terms," Verani pointed out, "that will require more time to negotiate."

"That won't be necessary."

"Very well, then." Verani picked up her datapad from where it lay atop the conference table. "I can put together the document right now, if you like."

"Do so." Mitth'elen'invari's smile faded. "I would like to be finished with this business."

That makes two of us. "I'll only need a few minutes." Verani started opening documents. "And so the Chiss stay with the Empire."

Mitth'elen'invari turned to look out the viewport at the distant stars and did not answer.

The next day

Once word of the agreement got out, the Imperial party made its preparations to leave the Tempest with a speed that might have seemed impolite had the Chiss not been eager to see them go. Thaera found her mother in her quarters.

"I suppose you've come to say goodbye," Theleni said without preamble.

"Would you rather I didn't?" Thaera asked, and immediately regretted it when Theleni's expression darkened.

"Of course not. Despite our disagreements, you are still my daughter. I love you."

Thaera tried to return the sentiment, but she couldn't quite get the words out. She looked at the floor.

"You don't have to go back, you know," Theleni continued.

Thaera lifted her head, frowning in confusion. She hadn't expected this. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to go back to the Empire," Theleni said quietly. "You can come home."

"I'm the head of Sith Intelligence. I can't just leave."

"But you could. You know how to make yourself disappear, if you wanted."

A shiver ran down Thaera's spine. Somewhere, locked away in the most hidden depths of the Intelligence Archives, was the Black Codex. She didn't have access to it. She wasn't sure if even Darth Nox had access; the Codex had gone to Darth Jadus' servants, and they had been the ones to arrange its security. The second-worst crime she'd committed.

But if she found a way to reach it…

No.

"I can't," Thaera said firmly. "I won't. I have already made my choices, and it is far too late to turn back. I'm staying in the Empire."

"Fine." Theleni sighed. "I didn't really think I would convince you, but I had to try. I suppose I'll never see you again, then."

"Probably not."

Theleni nodded once. "Is there any message you would like conveyed to your siblings? I know your brother in particular has always regretted not having a chance to say goodbye before you left the Ascendancy."

Thaera stood straight and still, clasping her hands together behind her back. "Don't tell them anything. Don't even tell them you saw me." She took a deep breath. "It's better this way. For all of us."

Theleni's eyes were as cold and hard as rubies. "As you wish. Goodbye, Thaera."

"Goodbye, Mother."

Thaera turned quickly and left. An icy dagger seemed to have been driven through her chest, making every breath and every step agony, but she kept walking until she was aboard the Imperial shuttle. There, no one spoke to her. Even Vector kept his distance, perhaps sensing her dark mood.

She sat in the cargo hold behind a stack of crates and listened to the shuttle's engines rumble a solemn harmony to the quieter thunder of her heartbeat. There was no place for her in the Ascendancy, not anymore. The Empire needed her, a knife to command its other knives. Someone to stand between the Sith and the people who kept their Empire running like the machine it was.

That was her duty, and for the time being, it was enough.