Corellia, Part VI
My legs hurt. I was sweaty. I felt dizzy from so many stairs and if I could have had the building's engineer in front of me I'd have kicked him down every single one of those blasted steps.
Predictably, we'd had to slog our way up to the penthouse at the top of the building. Part of me worried we'd be in no condition to fight when we got there. I knew, before we opened and went through the door, that we'd caught up with Darth Vowrawn. It wasn't so much that I sensed a big, dark power—although there were several—so much as I sensed something a little too small, something trying to… duck below… Sith senses.
The room held three Sith—none of whom was the hiding presence—all formidable, capable looking men. Determination and rage burned in them like forest fires, a durasteel-strong determination that she could have their master only when they stepped over the last dead body.
"Please tell Darth Vowrawn he has a visitor," Her Lordship commanded.
"There's nothing here for you, scum," the Sith at the fore—a man with a hairstyle that made me think of a road on a smooth hill—snarled, igniting his lightsaber. His fellows followed suit. "Even you can't manage the three of us at once."
Don't be so sure.
"He's already here, master," I announced, feeling the hiding presence move. "Here and listening. There." I gestured to the balcony bordering the second floor. After a few tense moments, a soft footstep sounded on the stairs.
The Sith immediately feel back, blocking the entrance with their bodies, bristling as they tried to figure a solution to the red-headed problem before them.
"Oh, do stand down, Lord Qet," a weary voice declared.
"By, my lord—"
"I said stand down," the weary voice repeated.
Lightsabers turned off, but the death glares of the three Sith didn't decrease by so much as a fraction. Qet didn't give up so easily, however. "My lord, you must retreat into the shad—"
Darth Vowrawn, for I felt certain it was him and not some kind of double, gave a huff of impatience and elbowed his way past Qet—literally, since the Sith shuffled forward several paces so his master could almost squeeze through the wall of bodyguards. "There could be a dozen of you, and it wouldn't matter. You would fail just the same," came the by-now waspish remark.
Vowrawn was a short man, lean but starting to grow soft around the middle. A Pureblood, his red complexion was dark, trending towards purple. Dark hair, a little disheveled as if he wasn't concerned with vanity or looks (or had run his hands through it too many times), capped a long face with more than a few fleshy tendrils hanging or protruding from it. It was hard to tell whether his gold and silver facial jewelry—a common style for Purebloods—was mounted directly to his face or held securely with body glue. His robes were quite simple, mostly obscuring the armor that made the fall of cloth buckle and bulge here and there.
"Go," Vowrawn commanded.
"But, my lor—" Qet protested. For a moment, I thought he might actually bonk Vowrawn on the head and make off with his unconscious master for some place of safety. The mental image was hilarious.
"I honestly don't care whether they stay or go," Her Lordship announced, Qet's protest half overriding her remark.
"Go." This time there was a snap in his voice as he regarded Her Lordship, me, then Her Lordship again, eyes hooded in thought. "I will not say it again." He didn't raise his voice; rather, he lowered it. It brooked no argument whatever.
Still looking as though desperate action might be preferable to following orders, Qet bowed stiffly, reluctantly, then led his men out the door through which we came, giving Her Lordship murderous looks. I don't doubt that, if anything happened to Vowrawn, we'd have to fight them to get out.
"Such good boys," Vowrawn observed once the door closed, his voice returned to normal pitch. "So loyal. So talented."
I can't speak for the latter, but they are loyal.
"Killing them would be such a waste."
Heheh. 'Waste.' 'Killing.' I wonder if he did that on purpose.
Her Lordship opened her mouth, but Vowrawn ran over whatever she meant to say. "You've done well, all things considered. Your master is quite the player of the game." Beneath the almost jolly, certainly upbeat tone, lay a hint of calculation, as if he wasn't half as resigned as he gave the impression of being, as if he thought he could still salvage the situation. As if he just didn't want his talented boys underfoot.
Too bad Baras doesn't have more than playing the game going for him—like being able to play it himself.
I meandered over to the penthouse windows and drew back the curtains, aware that my progress was observed with attention to detail. The sky looked sullen, full of smoke and particulate matter, which scattered the light in ominous ways. Now that we were still, I began to feel my weariness in earnest.
Damn those stairs. If I have my way, I'll never bother with stairs ever again. Someone will just have to carry me.
Another amusing image.
"I'm not here on Baras' account," Her Lordship announced flatly.
Vowrawn chuckled, the sound containing a bitter edge. "No need to take the trouble to lie. All I ask is to be spared the indignity of decapitation."
Silence.
More silence, and this time Vowrawn narrowed his eyes speculatively. "Interesting," he mused softly.
Her Lordship's arms were crossed, even if she maintained her ability to spring into action. Finally, "I was wondering if you would notice my lack of hostile intent. Darth Ekkage's assassins did. Surely a member of the Dark Council would be much more astute in his observations."
"One cannot be too careful with Darth Baras," Vowrawn observed.
"I know. It's why I've been tasked to remove him from the galaxy." This time, she bowed as she spoke, a definite inclination of the head but no more. I hastily followed suit. "The Emperor's Hand has tasked me to ensure your safety, the better to ruin Baras' bid for power. I am Lord Hellanix Balanchine-Renault—the Emperor's Wrath."
"I know the Emperor's Wrath—or knew him." Vowrawn studied Her Lordship. "Ah, there," he breathed, his eyes lighting up as though spotting something ellusive. Maybe the Emperor left a mark on her for other Sith to perceive, to act as a letter of reference so her claim would stand up to the argument that she'd replaced the last fellow to hold the post. "Well. Things have grown interesting!" His whole manner began to brighten.
"Too interesting. We've removed two of the three assassins we know about. The last is still lurking somewhere," Her Lordship answered.
"Three for little old me?" Vowrawn chuckled. "I am honored."
I looked away from the window. The Darth put me in mind of an Aleraanian noble I'd known. A fat, round-faced man with a jolly voice and foppish manners… and the heart of a killer. He was 'known' to be involved with blackmail rackets, but no one could ever prove anything. I remember him smarming up to Gesselle who, more often than not, looked like she wanted to punch him.
Vowrawn had a similar tone and manner. He was also a member of the Dark Council. You don't get a seat unless you're a killer, and an adept one at that. And Vowrawn's been there awhile, if what I understand is correct.
"Don't be," Her Lordship murmured, looking significantly at me.
I nodded my agreement. "This has been too easy. Even I could have handled those two—by myself and at once."
"Permit me to introduce my apprentice, Jaesa," Her Lordship announced to the curious-looking Vowrawn.
I bowed politely. "My lord."
Vowrawn nodded, studying me with new and frank curiosity.
"Extrapolate," Her Lordship commanded.
This was a learning trip with a vengeance. Then again, I've been learning for months, following for months. "We know Baras has another assassin on-world, but I don't believe that assassin is the… blank spot… I've been picking up. It seems to me, therefore, that all these three assassins are meant to do is shake up Vowrawn and his retainers, to trick them into a false sense of complacency once they've been dealt with. Three assassins, all dead? Surely it would mean a chance in tactics. Then, this fourth assassin—the real assassin, if you will—arrives some dark night and slits His Lordship's throat.
"The problem which I see is that none of these assassins have the hallmarks of stealth. Oh, the SIS fool and the droid would probably prefer a ranged shot, but all the windows here are scrupulously covered." I indicated the heavy draperies. "And unless I'm much mistaken, His Lordship doesn't leave this building or, in all likelihood, this suite for anything." I might have thought there were ninety way out of this building but after climbing all those stairs, I revised my opinion.
By now, Vowrawn had found a chair to settle in it, looking quite at his ease and brightly interested.
Her Lordship nodded.
"So I expect this next assassin to make an attempt when we try to move the Darth—unless he comes crashing through the window, knowing approximately where His Lordship is…" I was going to say 'holed up' but it sounded a little too much like 'hiding' and Sith can be touchy. "…maintaining his headquarters."
"Oh, that was a lovely save," Vowrawn observed, bringing his hands together with a single soft clap of approval. "Permit me to compliment you, my lord. One doesn't see clever apprentices with such lovely manners very often."
When he said 'manners' I interpreted it as being both definitions—my manner of presentation and my manners as in courtesy.
"Jaesa is a credit to me," Her Lordship agreed.
And immune to this Darth's flattery, though there was no need to air that opinion.
"So, apprentice, how would you go about thwarting this assassin?" Vowrawn asked, sounding like a guest instructor testing a student's understanding.
I reached out to Her Lordship, unsure if I ought to answer him, received an impression nudging me along, then walked over to the windows and peeked out. "Ideally, I'd say have the Captain bring the Astral Blight, land it nearby, and we'll make our way there as quickly as possible. Then secure Darth Vowrawn on the Blight, after which we can lift him off-world—"
"Stop right there," the Darth broke in mildly, prompting me to turn. He'd raised a forestalling finger, and abandoned his chair. "I am not going off-world just yet. I have work here to finish which is directly pertinent to our communal problem."
"Very well. Securing you on the Blight remains necessary, regardless of whether or not we leave. Leaving is simply the best option," I answered.
"I'm not sure even Quinn could get the Blight here. That means ground travel," Her Lordship broke in. "He doesn't fly like a smuggler."
I'd been afraid of that. "Traversing war torn streets on foot or by speeder? The best we could hope for, in that case, is to spring the trap ourselves."
It was the sound of an engine where, previously, there was none.
All three of us, Vowawn, Her Lordship, and I, jumped towards the nearest wall as a vehicle plowed through the windows and wall, peppering us with glass (or would have, if we hadn't anticipated it) dust, and bits of duracrete, tearing the drapes off their fastenings. The vehicle struck the opposite wall as a figure on a speeder followed it, jumping free of the speeder which crashed into the car with a screech of metal on metal and explosions of fuel cells.
What had happened, as best I could piece it together, was that the assassin positioned the car to make him an entrance—probably locking the steering and launching it (so to speak) from a building across the way. He then followed from the same building using the speeder, a vehicle which was never meant to be so high off the ground and would drop even if it maintained momentum, the cross the gap. No need, as we had, to traverse the stairs or risk the elevators of this particular building and run the gauntlet of Vowrawn's security.
Unfortunately for him, he had no idea how many Sith he actually had to face. He knew about Vowrawn, he knew about Her Lordship and me, but he had no idea whether we'd obliterated the Darth's guardian forces—he probably assumed we had.
For all intents and purposes, they remained out of play. I wasn't sorry: crowded rooms make for poor repulsions of an attack.
Qet and his men were back in the room in a trice. If the suite hadn't been so roomy, there would have been far too many people in it at this point. Qet wasted no time: he reached out through the Force and jerked Vowrawn towards him, shunting the Darth behind him while his two fellows closed ranks and maneuvered so they blocked the Darth in a corner.
"Oh, really!" Darth sputtered indignantly, as if he felt himself quite up to handling an assassin and there was no need for manhandling.
Several of us reached out, as the assassin leapt free of the speeder, catching him in crushing grips. Her Lordship, as soon as she had an angle of attack—which took less time than it took Qet to secure Vowrawn—sprang at the assassin and took his head off in one clean swipe.
"Three," she said. "And the best is yet to come."
By now, with the settling of the dust and debris, most of the black robes in the room were streaked strangely with grey. "Are you hurt, my lord?" Qet asked Vowrawn, still eyeing Her Lordship askance.
"No, but I should like to breathe at the very least," Vowrawn complained, giving his men various shoves until they spread out a little. "Really, you three. I can look after myself."
It must normal, for none of the three Sith seemed to attach much importance to the fussing as Vowrawn straightened his robes. Such dedication. Perhaps that's another hallmark of the best Sith: inspiring dedication and devotion in their highest tier of supporters, such that something like trust (as close as one can find in such an untrusting order as that of the Sith) is established.
"We're moving your master to my ship," Her Lordship said to Qet, her tone brooking absolutely no argument of any kind. "He'll be secure there. My crew will see to him."
Qet, scowling nodded. I had to wonder if he, like I sometimes did, reached out to check with his master with no one being the wiser about the contact. "Tell me about this crew."
"I have an Imperial officer—"
Qet's nose wrinkled.
"—a homicidal Talz—"
Qet's men exchanged dubious locks.
"—and a chirpy Twi'lek."
"That does sound like the beginning of a joke, my lord Wrath," Vowrawn chuckled.
"And I am not inclined to trust my lord's life to a joke," Qet growled. "Especially one offered by such as yourself." Clearly he still wasn't inclined to accept that the only Darth whose blood Her Lordship was after was Baras'.
"Down boy," Her Lordship said so coldly that Qet immediately took a half step back, stepping on Vowrawn who elbowed him out of the way. Cutting winds on Hoth's frozen plains are warmer than her tone was. "I also have a bevy of assassins under the leadership of one Lord Khellin."
"Really?" Vowrawn asked, arching his eyebrows… uh, eyebrow ridges…
"Ekkage's stooge?" Qet asked.
One of Qet's men looked startled, as if this meant something in particular to him. I didn't feel anything through the Force, his control over his emotions was good, but the expression on his face was that of hope. Apparently he knew one or more of the late Ekkage's former assassins.
"My stooge, I think you'll find, after having liberated him both from confinement and his former mistress," Her Lordship responded acidly. "I shall take it personally, Lord Qet, if you make any further suggestions that I do not take the Emperor's work seriously."
Nobody wants that.
"Ah, yes, you weren't there for the formal introduction," Vowrawn broke in, patting Qet's arm. "Lord Qet, permit me to introduce the Emperor's newly-appointed Wrath. She's much more charming that Scourge ever was."
"That would not be difficult, my lord," Qet answered sourly… but there was a new wariness that had nothing to do with concern about Baras.
Personally, I found myself intensely curious about Her Lordship's predecessor, 'Scourge' apparently, which had to be a professional name.
Her Lordship pulled out her holocom and queued it. "Quinn."
"My lord?" The Captain looked relieved.
"What is it?"
"Reports—and Darth Baras keeps trying to holo. Vette's been keeping his forced transmissions from getting through. I also suspect she's tampered with the prompt for the answering protocols. She was giggling most unnervingly after the last one." And, for once, he sounded like he approved.
"I hope he blows a gasket. Something to keep him occupied while we finish up here," Her Lordship responded dryly.
"General Rakton left you a message—I think the Lieutenant's operation has begun. He gave no details, only said he was giving you a courtesy notice."
"That was fast."
"I'll bet Pierce and his men rendezvous halfway between Vaiken and here, whatever Rakton wanted," I put in softly. "No sense wasting time."
Her Lordship nodded agreement.
"I assume the Lieutenant will holo you himself, once he's let Rakton know the matter is closed."
"Excellent. We've secured Darth Vowrawn and are ready to bring him to the Blight. In the meantime, see whether you can find record of any vessel with Baras' personal clearances touching down on Corellia. Our so-called assassins were not of the quality required to kill the Darth. Therefore, someone on this planet is."
"I'm on top of it. Is there anything else, my lord?"
"Have Lord Khellin and his men make their way to the hangar bay. I won't leave Darth Vowrawn as scantily protected as he is." She could have said 'unprotected' but needling Qet didn't seem to be on her list of priorities. It's doubtful anyone missed the absence of the slight; not that it will raise her very much in Qet's eyes. I have to admit, in his position I'd probably be suspicious and untrusting to the last degree, too. Better safe than oh so sorry. "I suspect there's much yet to be done. And have Tuvi prepare the apprentice's quarters to receive Darth Vowrawn."
Looks like Pierce is rejoining us in the dormitory.
"Yes, my lord."
Her Lordship severed the call. "Let's get moving."
Corellia, Part VII
Darth Vowrawn did sober up in his manner while we traversed the city. Her Lordship insisted we do it on foot—easier to defend ourselves and a crash on foot was less devastating than a crash on speeders—moving from one Imperial FOB to another.
Lord Qet didn't like it, but Her Lordship didn't really care, and Vowrawn always seemed ready to soothe his guardian into compliance. I actually spent most of the trip walking beside Vowrawn so Qet—whom Vowrawn assured Her Lordship was eminently capable, whatever opinion she might have formed to the contrary as a result of his own insistence that Qet not cross her—could work with less division of his attention.
I had the feeling the Darth was trying to use me to answer questions he didn't want to put to anyone overtly, so I did my best to keep conversation light and inconsequential. Whether I succeeded in avoiding dropping the information he wanted or not, Vowrawn maintained he—old man that he was—was quite happy to be led about by such a charming young apprentice. He even go this eyes to twinkle indulgently.
Her Lordship was right: he presented the face of a fop, and it was a perfect 'mask of flesh' as I like to call it. I might have been less cautious around him without Her Lordship's warning that behind the mask was one of the most powerful, influential men in the Empire. A man who'd held his post securely for decades.
So Vowrawn and I chatted about the weather, arts and culture, the state of Dromund Kaas, my impressions of Korriban, what I knew about Corellia—he seemed as interested in sampling the cuisine as I was—and that sort of thing. It was the kind of conversation I might have expected from a party, such as the one Magdalena threw for Her Lordship.
At the very least, the murmur of conversation broke up the otherwise nerve-fraying sounds of battle moving to and fro.
Corellia, Part VIII
Lord Khellin and his men arrived before we did—which they should have done. Khellin had, however, sent half of them out into the city. The Captain turned up several ships with Baras' 'fingerprints' on them and Khellin sent his own men neutralize them. He wasn't taking any risks.
In fact, upon arriving in the Astral Blight's hangar, Khellin was the only one of them visible—and the only one I could perceive. Anyone else was perfectly invisible.
"My lord Wrath," Khellin took a knee. "Darth Vowrawn."
Vowrawn simply nodded acknowledgment of the greeting.
"Report," Her Lordship commanded.
"Three of my men have eliminated their targets. Two have gone silent. At least one of those two is dead."
That means he's down to seven—six if we're unlucky—men, excluding himself.
Her Lordship nodded for me to take Vowrawn up into the Blight. Once we were all inside, she resumed, "We think the assassins Baras sent were merely distractions. We think there's at least one more, and/or possibly whatever apprentice he's favoring just now."
Khellin sighed, produced his holo, and turned it on, displaying what was evidently playback. The footage cut in with the agonized movements of the man struggling to get the device out and working. Someone abruptly dragged him to his feet, the device giving us an unpleasant look at the attacker's groin. From the gagging sounds, it was clear the attacker was manually strangling his victim. The device fell to the ground, rolling some distance away. A nasty crack. A nastier thud. Feet approached, the dull thud suggesting bulk.
Khellin paused the footage as if he'd been practicing for the express purpose of showing Her Lordship. The face the holocom recorded—which was probably the last thing the device saw—was a tortured, ruined face, heavily implanted with cybernetics until it almost looked like the flesh was the augmentation.
My guts tightened, coiling unpleasantly. Even mangled in that fashion, there was no mistaking him.
"Lord Draahg," Her Lordship said softly.
"He's dead," I breathed, feeling sweat break out on my forehead. "You-you killed him."
"Apparently not well enough," Her Lordship responded neutrally.
It was only because we were linked that I could sense, beyond the 'door' between us the anger, the rage… a little confusion… but also a wild joy. He'd hurt the Captain. He'd hurt me, and Vette. Now, she had the opportunity to hurt Draahg right back. Break him by inches. See how long he could scream before his vocal cords ruptured.
It was a cold comfort for me, memory of that handsome face and the pain it wrought echoing in my mind.
The Captain, of course, was present—silent and proper—when everyone boarded the ship. He looked utterly impassive as he regarded the holo of Draahg's ruined face.
"Apparently burning alive isn't as permanent as some people think," Her Lordship declared flatly.
It shocked me, for a moment, that no one seemed surprised to learn there was a man she set out to kill and hadn't succeeded. Then, I realized, no one had a perfect percentage for kills. If this was the first man she meant to kill and failed in doing so… then there was still reason to be impressed.
"Draahg's presence here is likely twofold: killing the both of us," Vowrawn said, taking the holocom from Khellin's hand and examining it. "Goodness, he's not nearly as good-looking as he used to be. Burned alive, you said?" I had the impression that his 'twofold' reason included killing him and Her Lordship as a single item—the other one remained unspoken.
Her Lordship nodded.
"Beauty is only skin deep," I growled, "but ugly goes clear to the bone. He hasn't changed a bit."
He dropped a mountain on her. She left him to burn alive. Apparently there's something to using a lightsaber when you have to kill someone. Anything else allows too much of a chance for them to live. And for Draahg… a vibroblade.
…I always thought it curious she'd left him to just burn like that. However… oh. I bit my lip. Draahg dragged me and the Captain out of the ship, left us where we'd be the first things Her Lordship saw. Of course she'd want to be done with him quickly, make sure everyone was still alive, still save-able.
It won't happen again. I won't let it. My jaw began to hurt, I clenched my teeth so tightly.
I was wakened to the fact that I'd made my comment about beauty and ugliness out loud when Vowrawn laughed approvingly. Even Qet and Khellin looked grimly amused. "Too true! You've a sharp tongue to go with those sharp wits, my dear, and no mistake! Keep those. They'll serve you well in life."
I nodded politely accepting the remark.
"Khellin. I put security into your hands," Her Lordship announced.
In Basic: if Draahg so much as scratches any of her retinue, or Vowrawn, she'll skin him alive.
"I'll make sure of it, my lord," Khellin said unpertubedly, before drawing aside to relay orders to his men, which he did in a low tone. They melted out of invisibility. Qet and his men started, as I did, but the Darth and Her Lordship didn't.
I suspect Khellin's used to a much nastier style of issuing instructions. There was something so calm, almost complacent in his acceptance and discharge of them.
"Darth Vowrawn, this is Captain Quinn. He manages the ship in my absence."
The Captain bowed deeply, remaining respectfully silent. It made me wonder whether he'd be sleeping in the quarters he shared with Her Lordship or if he was on the metaphorical couch while Vowrawn and his men were here.
Having had to look at Draahg's ugly face, however, I didn't wonder long. She'd want him close. No one who didn't know there was more than a normal Sith liaison would expect one. Knowing she cared, really cared, was like having a guilty conscience.
"Jaesa, wake Vette and Broonmark. I wish them to present themselves."
I bowed and hurried away, waking Vette first—she's not a graceful waker—then Broonmark.
Corellia, Part IX
Breakfast was something to delight Tuvi's power supply and circuit boards: he had so many people to prepare the meal for and apparently was to make a good impression. Lord Khellin was absent, having left the night before, while Her Lordship issued instructions to Vette and Broonmark about how things were going to proceed.
Lord Qet remained unimpressed with Her Lordship's crew—especially, I think, because Vette's snoring the night before was far too loud and too obnoxious to be real. He must have said something to annoy her. Goodness knew she annoyed the rest of us until I snapped at her about how much work some of us did during the course of the day and how much work some of us would be doing the next.
I think Vette felt displaced with regards to field work: she was traded out for the Captain when he arrived. Poor girl is near the bottom of the list for field operations, even if Her Lordship finds ways to keep her busy. Still, she's kind enough not to make us all suffer after having had it brought to her attention by someone who matters. If Qet complained, she'd probably hook herself up to a microphone.
Qet's men didn't seem to care one way or the other about the crew. At the very least—so my impression ran—they felt Vette, Broonmark and the Captain would function as acceptable meatshields while they removed their lord to safety.
Her Lordship and Vowrawn barely exchanged 'good morning' and sat down at the table before he came around to business. "Now that we're all well-rested. Baras, as we all know, is not the Voice of the Emperor. The reason support of his bid for this role is so strong is not because so very many people believe it but because there is a marked lack of resistance to the idea."
"Darth Marr wouldn't go along with it," Her Lordship noted. "He'd need more than just Baras' word for it."
"He doesn't. But Marr is still only one person, however formidable he might be. And I'm only one. Which leaves us at a disadvantage. The best way to disrupt him is to increase the voice of resistance—and that means removing two of Baras' top agents, both of whom are on Corellia. One of these agents—the easiest to get to—handles…" Vowrawn twirled his fingers dexterously, "sensitive information… which Baras uses to leverage support."
"Blackmail? He's actually blackmailing members of the Dark Council?" Her Lordship asked, her tea stopping halfway to her mouth.
"Audaciously and, even more amazing, effectively," Vowrawn agreed.
"That man." It was hard to tell if she felt scathingly towards him or admired the ability that permitted Baras to blackmail members of the Dark Council and survive to keep doing it.
The idea that there were things Sith would rather bow to someone than have exposed nearly blew my mind. Sith tend to be an unapologetic lot, and those with power can silence any criticism of their personal habits or choices.
"Has lived way too long," Vette whispered to me.
There wasn't enough room at table for everyone. Vowrawn, Qet, and Her Lordship sat at it. I'd opted to eat sitting with Vette somewhat apart, listening and thinking, but separate from the actual strategizing.
Qet's two men sat in a huddle of their own, facing us, flanking the doorway leading to the airlock.
The Captain stood at Her Lordship's shoulder, caf in hand. Although not taking part in breakfast, I knew he'd eaten before the rest of us, so he could devote full attention to Her Lordship's interests.
"Baras' chief intelligence operative is a man named Senks—Colonel Senks," Vowrawn continued.
Her Lordship looked to the Captain, who mutely shook his head. I suppose he can't know everyone.
"Colonel Senks is, officially, a member of the Corellian Resistance. He has a unique gift for slithering out of danger. His stronghold—the one my last agent flushed him out of—turned out to be a labyrinth of traps. We've found his new location, but owing to the need of treating the assault carefully… he's still in there." Vowrawn sipped his caf.
"Captain. Gear up for the field, I'll want your eyes on this."
"Yes, my lord." He didn't leave immediately, not mistaking her order for a dismissal.
"I take it you have, at the very, least a preliminary assessment?" she asked.
"I do, my lord. Unless you successfully scramble Senks' security measures, he'll be out of there before you can reach him. A few small explosive charges should take care of the problem, but only if they're properly placed. I'm unable to extrapolate further without knowing what sort of building we'd be dealing with."
"Do we have these charges in the armory?"
"Some. I can improvise a few more, and recommend doing so."
Vowrawn, although he remained behind his cup, studied the exchange shrewdly.
"Momentarily, Captain," Her Lordship prompted. "Jaesa? You'll remain here in his absence."
"Yes, my lord," I answered, trying not to feel uncomfortable. The last time Her Lordship left me behind to handle things, Draahg rolled over us like… like…
Well. He rolled over us.
And he's on this planet, now.
And he'll be wanting to destroy Vowrawn. Which means he'll likely be here when Her Lordship isn't.
I clenched my teeth and my fists, fingernails biting into my palms. Beside me, Vette's sky blue skin turned pasty periwinkle. The idea of facing him again scared me—terrified, even. That we were augmented by Qet, his two men, and Vowrawn himself (who couldn't possibly be as helpless as Qet's behavior might suggest), plus Khellin's men outside…
I still felt woefully unprepared. I shouldn't. I knew I shouldn't. But I'd never been that badly hurt, and Draahg made clear that taking me down was all too easy. He'd made me helpless.
Gritting my teeth even harder, I forced the fear down. It wouldn't help me. Anger would, though. And anger could be distilled from fear.
"If I may, before you leave, Captain, I should like to organize contingencies, in case the Astral Blight is compromised." To my relief, there was nothing in my voice to suggest my internal conflict.
"I've anticipated the necessity, my lord," the Captain answered, turning so he could regard me. "Both an off-world evacuation and an on-planet fallback. The former is logged in the navicomputer pending confirmation—it's only enough to put you in orbit, you understand," he continued, when it looked like Vowrawn might protest. "The second is—"
"A safehouse in the Imperial legislature," Vowrawn interrupted, raising one finger.
The Captain's brow wrinkled. "With all due respect, my lord, Darth Baras is most adept at finding such things."
"And I won't have him flattening major military outposts to get to me," the Darth responded dryly. "I can fight a war or manage our operations on the run as effectively as I can from a base of operations. It simply takes a little more effort."
"As you wish, my lord." There wasn't much else he could say.
"You mentioned two agents," Her Lordship broke in. "Senks is one."
"Yes, the other is a Jedi Master—or masquerading as one," Vowrawn continued. "He—or she, I suppose—is used to attack the assets of Sith who won't bend to blackmail. Compromise their power base and…" he shrugged suggestively.
"Is there anything else I should know?"
"Directly pertinent to this matter? No. But there is a young Sith running around, flattening everything that looks at her wrong. I believe she's after Thanaton, but I could be mistaken. My sources say she's rather, er… erratic. Lighting gone to her brain, perhaps." Vowrawn tapped his temple and indicated 'crazy.'
"Red Twi'lek, short, dresses like a Hutt's dancer?" Her Lordship asked.
"Oh, you know her?"
"We… worked together once," Her Lordship answered delicately. "Kallig, I believe she called herself."
Vette snorted, then pantomimed 'crazy' to me.
I nodded, remembering Vette's account of her.
Vowrawn cocked his head. "If she was after Thanaton… what do you think the odds are?"
"I'm not placing a bet with you, if that's what you're asking," Her Lordship smiled.
"I would never presume to gamble on the life of a fellow Dark Council member!" Vowrawn answered so assuredly that everyone—with the exception of the Captain—grinned to some degree. He accented the tone by placing a hand on his heart as if assuring her of sincerity.
"It depends on what kind of day she's having. Or how she's been threatened. She's powerful, but unstable," Her Lordship offered. Clearly, it was a matter of indifference to her.
"Another of those," Vowrawn sighed, shaking his head. I assumed he meant Darth Zhorrid. She's supposed to be pretty unstable. "At least they burn out quickly. Don't have enough time to cause true catastrophes."
"We can only hope," Her Lordship agreed. "If everything has been arranged to your satisfaction?"
"Oh, yes. It seems to me silly to try forming anything more concrete than we have now."
"Captain, there's no time like the present." Her Lordship pushed away from the table, nodded courteously at Darth Vowrawn. "Jaesa, come fill my place, if you would."
I got up, bringing my plate with me. Tuvi had her place cleared by the time I got there.
