Constantly wracked by storms and tidal forces, Yag'Dhul was a most inhospitable planet that had produced a notoriously durable race of sentients. The Givin could survive the vacuum as well as Yag'Dhul's surface, but for most soft-skinned species neither was hospitable, and the Givin had accordingly built a series of space stations over the planet through which they interacted with the rest of the galaxy.
It was on the largest of those stations that the Alliance had elected to host the latest round of talks to resolve the Senex-Juvex situation. In terms of manpower used and media attention garnered, it outsized all other talks combined by many magnitudes. The situation left Jevor Haine of two minds. On the one hand, maybe knowing the eyes of the galaxy were on them just might move the Houses toward actual reform. On the other, these talks had turned the space station into an absolute zoo.
Alliance Security personnel and even some marines had been brought in to reinforce the station's Givin police force. While they should have been working together to keep all the delegates, diplomats, and even press agents safe, the practical effect was one of even greater confusion. A part of him wished Chief of State Sevash had approved the use of Jedi guards on that station; the other part figured it would have made things even more chaotic.
He tried to focus on what lay directly ahead of him at any given him. The talks were one day away and the delegates from the Houses has been arriving one-by-one for the past two. There were nineteen Houses in all and Haine had been there to greet most of them on arrival, though Senator Djo had fielded a few when she could spare the time.
There was one arrival they came together to greet. Unlike most of the arrivals, which had been arranged via that station's flight control and scheduled days in advance, the coming of Moran Gnoll was kept secret from everyone except the senator, the ambassador, and Haine's aide Vareena. The Givin security team had thrown a fit when they were told about the surprise arrival but they'd complied eventually.
When Gnoll's modest Corellian shuttle glided into the station's smallest private docking bay, the party greeting it was small. Allana and Haine stood in front, with Vareena at his shoulder. Two Givin police officers and four handpicked senatorial guards stood behind them, and that was all.
When the shuttle ramp lowered, his own security people were the first ones out. Haine marked a long-headed Dresselian, a burly green-skinned Itoran, and two humans. One had his black hair cropped close to his head, while the other had hers in a jaw-length bob. They looked like they might have been brother and sister. After they gave the hangar a cursory look over, Savyar's delegate came down the ramp.
Details on her organization were frustratingly scarce, but from what Haine understood, Moran Gnoll was a longtime crusader for the rights of miners on the harsh desert world of Varadan. Any kind of miners' union was barred by the ruling House Petro, but that hadn't stopped Gnoll from organizing the workers. The stout, blue-scaled Nosaurian didn't look particularly formidable, but Haine knew any being who'd done what Gnoll had possessed mettle to spare.
Allana was one to initiate greetings. To Haine's surprise, she replicated the hands-open gesture Senex Lords used to salute other royalty. Gnoll clearly recognized the gesture. He blinked in surprise and didn't know how to respond; then he spread his hands and did the same. Haine was relieved to see he'd gotten the message: everyone was on equal ground here.
"It's an honor to meet you, Ambassador Gnoll," Allana said. "I'm Senator Allana Djo and this is Jevor Haine of the Alliance diplomatic corps."
"Yes, I'm familiar with you both." Gnoll's head looked oversized as it bobbed on his thin neck. "I'm glad to be here, of course, though I must say I never thought I'd earn the title 'ambassador.'"
"Unlikely things happen every day," Allana said. "I'm hoping we can make more of them follow."
"You sound like an optimist, Senator."
"Politics is the art of making things possible, Ambassador. If you'll come with me, we'll take you to your quarters."
Gnoll's bodyguards started to fall in close, but he waved them a few steps away so Allana, Haine, and Vareena could walk with him as the Givin police began leading them through the station. A small cadre of aides emerged from Gnoll's shuttle and followed at the rear of the herd.
"Tell me," said Gnoll, "Am I to be staying in the same habitat as all the other, ah, delegates?"
"We've made other arrangements," Haine said. "In the interest of security, of course. I'm afraid they aren't quite as well-appointed as the ones claimed by the Lords, but you'll still have all the major comforts."
"Have you ever been to Varadan, Ambassador?"
"I can't say I have."
"Then you're lucky. I've spent most of my life there. You could stick me in the nearest supply closet and it would be paradise in comparison."
"We're better hosts than that, I hope. I believe everyone on you staff will have private quarters. Vareena?"
"That's correct, sir. And Ambassador Gnoll, the location of your quarters is also being kept secret from the other delegates. Those of us present here are the only ones who know."
"Nothing like the threat of constant death to make a being feel at home." Gnoll's smile was brittle. "Tell me, did any of the Houses pull out their delegations when they found out I was attending?"
"Surprisingly, no," said Allana. "There was plenty of protest, of course, but I don't think any of them were willing to lose face by being the first one to bail."
"P thought for sure Houses Vandron or Petro would leave."
"Kalor Vandron has more riding on this than anyone," Haine said. "He hosted the last round of talks. He'd look petulant in front of the rest of them if went home."
"Peer pressure is a wonderful thing," Gnoll hummed.
"That goes both ways, Ambassador," Allana warned. "There's going to be nineteen of them and only one of you. I would say you'll be outnumbered but that doesn't begin to cover it."
"Oh, I'm expecting them to try and gang up on me. But the Senex-Juvex Lords are never as united as outsiders think. Inter-House rivalries run centuries deep and none of them really trust one another."
"You sound well-versed in their politics," Haine observed.
"I can give you some inside tips before talks tomorrow, if you'd like.
"I very much would. I was going to come to escort you to the conference center at around 0900 hours. May I come a little early?"
"Feel free to. Maybe you can give me some tips as well. Senator Djo?"
"I'm afraid someone has to keep all the other delegates occupied," Allana smiled thinly and passed a glance at Haine. It said: I wish I'd staked that claim first.
When they arrived at their destination, the Dresselian bodyguard stopped them in front of the door and said, "Please, Ambassador, let us give the room a thorough search before you enter."
Gnoll looked up at his hosts. "Please don't take offense."
"It's all right," said Haine. "Your people can go ahead. I'm sure they'll find everything is secure."
"Very well," Gnoll waved a clawed hand. "Go ahead and be as through as you need."
-{}-
When they stepped through the door and it closed behind them, the four Mandalorians were alone with each other for the first time in days. Tamar Skirata felt the urge to drop her guard and quickly stomped it down. They had work to do.
As promised, their temporary living quarters were spacious, and included several adjoining suites of single-bed rooms. They went from room-to-room running checks for explosive compounds, trace elements in the air, and potentially poisonous liquids, and at one point she heard her cousin mutter, "Nicer than anything we have on our ships."
"I guess we should have been diplomats," Tamar told him.
"Yeah, Mandos are famous for their people skills."
"Gnoll's a damned miner. He seems to have picked up people skills just fine."
"I guess anyone can learn. By the way, notice who the senator was?"
"I know, the Hapan jetii queen. Is that supposed to make me feel safer?"
"I don't know, does it?"
From the adjoining room, their Itoran compatriot said, "I'd feel a lot safer if we were in full beskar'gam. I feel naked without it."
"Then it's good you only feel naked," Tempe Kolbana said as the four of them converged in the main living room. The Dresselian looked them over and said, "Anything?"
"Every room I checked looks clear," Dorn said. "But we could spend the rest of the day double- and triple-checking every panel."
"Did you check everything once?"
"Yes, sir," Tamar said.
"Then that will do for now. One of us needs to stay in this place at all times to make sure nobody tries to plant surprises during the conference. Someone will also need to keep night watch. We'll figure out shifts later."
"Should we call Gnoll in now?"
Tempe Kolbana took a deep breath, like he was sniffing the air. "All right. Mokra Shal, let them in."
As the Itoran went back to the door, the Dresselian leaned close on Tamar's shoulder and said, "Any gut feeling?"
Tamark flinched. She didn't know Tempe Kolbana well, and there was no reason for him to know about her family's lingering Jedi blood. Gevern Auchs must have told him.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Tamar said quietly.
"Hope it stays that way," he replied as the door opened and everyone filed in.
She did hope that. Right now she hoped it more than anything.
-{}-
Compared to other mission Darth Kheykid performed in service of the One Sith, the assassination of Moran Gnoll was strikingly easy.
Getting aboard the station was the first easy step. Incoming ships were heavily screened by both Alliance and Givin security teams that even Intruder would have had difficulties slipping past, but Kheykid was provided passage by Kalor Vandron himself. Once the lord's shuttle was safely docked in its berth, Kheykid merely waited until he could slip past the guards, then went to join Vandron in the quarters provided for him.
The morning before the first day of talks were scheduled, Kheykid received his instructions from his supposed master. They met in the old human's dressing room, and Vandron stared at the mirror the entire time, adjusting with his robes and fidgeting nervously.
"I've heard that Moran Gnoll arrived on this station yesterday. They're keeping a very tight lid on his location. You need to do something about that."
"Do you wish him dead, Lord?" Kheykid, fearsome face mostly shadowed by the hood of his black robes, stood over Vandron's shoulder.
"Not yet. You need to watch him when he comes to the talks today. Track him when he goes back to his quarters, wherever they are. From there, try to find out where his ship is berthed."
"You wish to track him?"
"Exactly. That little Nosaurian is just Savyar's mouthpiece. Killing him gets us nothing. But if he can lead us back to her, that's different." He smoothed his white hair back. "Under no circumstances is harm to fall on him, understood? I can't guarantee the other Houses aren't planning something against him. They probably are. If you see indication one of them is, then prevent them. Is that understood?"
"Very, Lord."
Vandron looked over his shoulder and set dark eyes on the Barabel. "Under no circumstances should harm come to any of the other Lords either. If someone does try to kill Gnoll, you must find out who called for the assassination. I'll deal with the rest myself. Do you understand? Don't be overzealous."
"Of course, Lord," Kheykid hissed and try to sound chastened. When he'd returned to Karfeddion he had a story prepared about tracking down and executing agents from one of the Hutt cartels who'd been hired to assassinate him over a business deal that had gone sour the year before.
Vandron hadn't taken it well. He'd been convinced deep-down that his nemesis Savyar had tried to kill him and had refused to take Kheykid's story at face value. Rather than distrust what his agent had told him he'd delivered a long lecture about investigating leads to the fullest and not relying on violence to solve every problem. Deep down, the old human clearly thought his Barabel servant was too stupid to plot against him and placed the blame on mere incompetence. That was fortune for Kheykid, but it also grated to be demeaned in such a way. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he was a full Sith Lord now, worthy of the title Darth, and he would not have to answer this miserable old man's beckon much longer.
"Slip away now, before I take my people and move out," Vandron told him. "You'll find a place to keep an eye on everything, I assume."
"The charts you provided me of the station layout will be most helpful."
"I thought as much." Vandron tugged his robes straight one last time, admired his own face in the mirror, then said, "Go on with it, then. Your goal is to make today happen as smoothly as possible. Understood?"
"Yes, Lord," Kheykid said, and slipped out the door.
The last part, at least, was the truth. Vandron had apparently bribed someone on the local security staff for a full map of the station layout including secure areas. He hadn't been able to ferret out which safe section the Alliance had whisked Moran Gnoll to, but it really didn't matter. Kheykid already knew.
Savyar's representative trusted his leader implicitly. Therefore, despite bringing alone four Mandalorian warriors along as part of his security detail, he missed out on the simple fact that a tiny tracer beacon had been placed inside his personal comlink. Therefore, after leaving Kalor Vandron, Kheykid slipped into a maintenance passage and began vectoring through the station's interior toward Gnoll's quarters.
The ship's maintenance and utility ducts had been arranged with typical Givin efficiency, and Kheykid was able to find Gnoll quickly. Once he was safety secluded in an air shaft some ten meters away, he activated the second useful instrument installed in Gnoll's comlink. Then he tapped the transmitter embedded in his lobeless ear and listened to the Gnoll saying, "Calling House Taneel reformist would be a huge stretch, but I think they have a certain pliability compared so, say, Vandron."
"What about Anturi?" a new voice asked.
"She does not budge, even if she makes a show of it. House Picturon, though, might bend toward House Taneel if there was a split among the Lord. And then there's House Garronin."
"What about it?"
The Nosaurian's voice wavered in amusement. "Prell Garronin despises Kalor Vandron."
"I had heard something like that, though I could never tell why. I always understood Garronin was one of the most conservative houses."
"It is, but Prell and Kalor had a falling-out over a woman, oh, sixty standard years ago. They've never stopped fighting about it since."
"Fascinating. You know, that really explains a lot. I think-"
"I'm sorry, sir," a woman's voice said. "But it's time to get moving."
"Of course," the second voice said. "Thank you for the talk."
"No problem at all, Ambassador Haine," Gnoll said. Furniture creaked with alleviated weight. "Now come, let's get this show started, shall we?"
The appearance of the Alliance ambassador was an unexpected element. He tried to weigh what that meant, what Darth Xoran would want for him to do. For a second he felt the urge to rush back to a comm station and ask her, but that was foolish. There was no time and the was a Sith Lord now besides. The choice was his to make. He needed to stay with Gnoll and complete his mission. And if Jevor Haine died along with Moran Gnoll, well, he imagined it would drive a deeper wedge than ever between the Houes and the Alliance.
Perhaps, Darth Kheykid mused, the Force was with him today.
-{}-
When Gnoll and Haine marched off to do diplomatic battle with the Senex-Juvex Lords, Tamar Skirata was left to watch the house. She wasn't happy about staying behind while the other three Mandalorians went off with the ambassadors, but Tempe Kolbana was right. Someone had to keep this place secure at all times.
Still, as she watched them go, a strange feeling settled over her. At first she couldn't place it. As she began another walk-through of the living complex she felt like she was being watched. She started checking for monitoring devices again, even though they'd done a thorough check-over the night before. After only a few minutes, though, the paranoia was replaced by something else: a grim, deep sense of dread settled in her stomach.
She tried to shake it off. She blamed the weird feeling on a number of things. She was far from home, she was alone without Dorn or the other Mandos, she was out of her familiar beskar shell, she was stuck on a bodyguard mission when she'd been trained as a fighter. None of that was big enough and she decided the real reason for her wordless anxiety was the most obvious. Her sister was dead, killed by a rogue Jedi or Sith. She didn't know the full truth of it. She needed to know the full truth. Without it she'd never feel any closure behind Nyal's death, and until that came everything on this mission would feel wrong.
So she settled on that explanation. Getting to the source of irrational emotions was supposed to tame them, but that didn't happen. Instead her dread got sharped, stronger, until she felt like she was going to overflow with it.
Something very bad was about to happen. She knew it, deep down, and that cold only mean her grandfather's Force was trying to talk to her.
Standing alone in Gnoll's quarters she let out a long, frustrated scream at the top of her lungs. Then she grabbed her comlink and ran out the door. It had been less than ten minutes since they'd left. If she sprinted she might still catch up.
-{}-
The main conference room aboard the station was located at the exact center of its disc-shaped structure. A broad, double-reinforced transparisteel dome made up the ceiling of the arena-shaped chamber, and Alliance staff had installed particle and energy shields over the dome as well for the duration of the talks. No effort had been spared in making sure that the delegated would be as secure as possible when they gathered beneath the starry ceiling.
The corridors leading into the arena were the weak point. Six different hallways connected to the chamber like spokes in a wheel, and all of them ran directly beneath the station's exterior hull for one hundred meters leading into the arena.
Kheykid had done most of the work last night, once he figured out where in the station Moran Gnoll was being kept. From there it had been easy to extrapolate which corridor he'd be taking into the arena. It had also been easy to plant a series of thermal detonite charges in the air ducts that ran in the thin space between the hallway ceiling and the station's outer shell. Normally such weapons would have been detected by rigorous security sweeps, but Kalor Vandron had mostly thoughtfully come in a shuttle with special compartments shielded from intrusive scans.
Hiding in the dark, Darth Kheykid tracked their movements. He listened to the continuing diplomatic blather between Gnoll and Haine. The two beings seemed to be taking a liking to each other, not that it mattered. His one worry was that Gnoll would be taken on a different route to the arena but that was not the case. His team was marching right down the corridor where death was waiting.
And then suddenly, just as they were entering the long stretch of hallway where the charges were planted, everyone stopped moving. Kheykid had no idea why. The hidden transmitter Gnoll's comlink only picked up sounds immediately adjacent to the source. He heard some muffled voices, but they weren't audible.
Kheykid's mind raced. If he blew the charges now it would open the corridor to space. That would probably be enough to whisk away Gnoll and the rest into the vacuum, but they were so close to the door leading to the previous corridor. There was a chance- and awful chance- that Gnoll might escape.
He rested one claw on the detonator and tried to make out what the voices around Gnoll were saying. For the first time since being honored by Darth Xoran, he didn't know what to do.
-{}-
Haine and Gnoll stood shoulder-to-shoulder, frowning in confusion at the sudden halt. The Dresselian security chief at the front of their column had stopped to answer his buzzing comlink. Now he was hunched over, back to them, speaking quickly but quietly to whoever was on the other end.
Haine took a tentative step forward. "Excuse me, but is there an issue?"
The Itoran guard held up a broad green hand and shook his head. No interruptions were allowed, then. Haine frowned deeper and looked over his shoulder at the human security officer behind them. The young man gave the tiniest shrug; he didn't know what was happening either.
Finally the Dresselian shut off his comlink and asked, "Ambassador Haine, is there another corridor we can take to the conference room?"
Haine frowned. "Well, yes. There's six total, but we'd have to loop back. It would take, say, five more minutes. Is there a problem?"
The Dresselian looked right at Gnoll. "It would be best if we took another route, sir."
"What was that call?" Haine demanded. "Did you discover a threat?"
The stonefaced guard looked suddenly confused. "I think it would be best to take a new route."
Being in danger was bad; not knowing if they were in danger was even worse. Haine had been in the diplomatic service for over thirty years and he'd had his life threatened more than once, but at least those times he'd known what the danger was.
The Dresselian kept staring at Gnoll. This was, after all, his party. The Nosaurian hesitated, then asked Haine, "Can you lead us to another corridor?"
"Of course, Ambassador. Follow me."
He took two steps back toward the door through which they'd come, and then the corridor exploded.
Everyone was knocked the deck. Flame and smoke and light all died as quickly as they'd come. There was a rush of wind gushing out into the vacuum and Haine realized what was happening.
He scrambled for something to grab onto but the walls and floor were all so smooth. He scraped fingernails against plasteel that slipped out from under him. The floor fell away and he was in the air. Gnoll, smaller than the rest of them, was sucked first into the great hole that had been opened in the ceiling. Then the Dresselian went. The Itoran's head slammed hard against the ceiling on the way out and he stopped struggling as he was carried away.
Haine tried to grab hold of the tattered hole even as he was pulled through. For a second he looked back and saw the door at the far side of the corridor, the one they'd come through, the door that could have saved them. It was wide open, and the dark-haired female bodyguard who'd stayed behind was filling its frame, reaching one hand out toward the one who looked like a brother. He seemed to be floating weightless but hadn't been pulled away like the rest of them.
How strange, Haine thought, and then the charred plasteel edges slipped out from under his bleeding hands and he was falling, spinning, spiraling into cold black forever.
-{}-
With one hand gripping hard to the threshold of the door, Tamar stretched out the other to grab hold of her cousin even as the air rushed out from behind her. It was pushing her as hard as it could into the void but she wouldn't let go of the door, wouldn't let go of Dorn, even though he didn't have hold of him at all, not with the flesh-and-blood hand wrapped in her dead sister's gloves.
She had him in the Force. She hadn't even done it consciously. She'd opened the door just seconds after the explosive charges went off. The air had already been gushing out but Dorn, he'd been closest to the door, and even as Gnoll and Haine and Mokra Shal and Tempe Kolbana were pulled through the gap he'd reached out and willed him not to fall away like the rest of them.
He hadn't. The gushing air lifted him off his feet and tugged him toward the gap torn through the ceiling but he didn't fall away. For a long second Tamar was surprised by what she'd done. From his expression, so was Dorn.
Then she concentrated and pulled. Even as the air tried to carry them both away she slowly reeled him in. She found the desperate angry need inside of her, the need not to fail. Nyall was dead but not Dorn. Never Dorn. She wouldn't let it happen. She pulled him toward her, slowly, steadily, even as the gush of air started to thin because it almost all of it had been sucked away,
She pulled him so close their hands touched. She grabbed him through Nyal's glove and pulled as hard as she could, with the Force, with every muscle in her body.
They both fell back through the threshold, out of the broken corridor. Dorn had the presence of mind to slap the door control panel as they fell. It slammed shut behind them, sealing them off from the vacuum. Alarms wailed and resupplied oxygen hissed urgently through the corridor's vents, but Tamar barely noticed. She and Dorn collapsed on top of each other, panting, exhausted, both amazed to still be alive.
Then everything else settled in. Mokra Shal and Tempe Kolbana were dead. Haine was dead. Gnoll was dead. They'd been sent on this mission and they'd failed utterly. The price would be high for them, the billions of beings in Senex-Juvex, the galaxy itself.
But they were alive. She told herself that again and again until she found the strength to rise. They could fight another day.
-{}-
In normal times Allana found some comfort in staring out a viewport at the icy constancy of the stars. It was a way to remind herself that no matter difficulties seemed so important at any given time the universe would march on forever. As she stood in her quarters aboard the station, looking out at all the tiny lights against the black, her mind kept reeling back to Gnoll and Haine, floating frozen through the vacuum. There was no peace in that thought but she found it was still preferable to turning around the facing Kalor Vandron head-on.
"There's no way the conference can continue now," the old man was saying. "The delegates from Houses Garronin and Picturon have already left. They're afraid for their lives. You should have never called for a conference if the Alliance couldn't guarantee the safety of the-"
"I understand, Lord Vandron," she said firmly, bitterly. "Better than you."
"Yes, yes, Ambassador Haine's death is a great tragedy. Though I do wonder why he was with Gnoll in the first place instead of with you and the rest of us in the arena. People are asking questions about what they were doing together before the talks."
"Are you insinuating something?" She stared very hard at the abyss.
"I'm only saying that now the gossip will be uncontrollable. Savyar is going to make Gnoll into martyr. We all know that. She's going to place blame on his death on me, personally."
It took all her Jedi training not to give into her anger. "A lot of beings are going to suggest that, Lord Vandron."
He took a moment to reply, as though he were frozen in shock. When he did speak he was angry. "What are you implying, Senator? If you mean to say something be out with it."
"I implied nothing. I'm sorry if you thought I was."
He snorted. "Typical obfuscation. The Alliance was supposed to provide security for this event. It's your fault what happened here today, not mine."
The worst of it was that he was right. This entire conference had been her stratagem and it had blown up in the worst way possible. Two good beings were already dead and more were likely to follow. She couldn't take any more. Spinning around she said, "Lord Vandron, what happened today is the sole and absolute responsibility of the people who killed Moran Gnoll. And we will find out who was responsible and the whole galaxy will know. Do you understand me?"
He met her glare with indignation, not reproach. "Absolutely. Whoever was responsible, I hope you catch them. But don't you dare hint I might be connected. Don't dare. Because I was not."
They held each other's angry stares for a long moment; until Allana decided she believed him. Part of it was the hoarse exhaustion in his voice. Mostly it was the Force. Kalor Vandron usually guarded his emotions but right now he was seething with what felt like righteous frustration. No, he hadn't killed Moran Gnoll. She sensed he was most angry at someone, though, someone who wasn't her.
"Do you have any idea who might have been responsible?" she asked finally
A little tension leaked out of him. "No. I truly don't. House Garronin, perhaps. Or House Kassido. But it was not me."
She sensed again that he was telling the truth. Almost apologetically she asked, "When will you be going back to Karfeddion?"
"As soon as possible." He straightened his robes and gave her one last long look in the eye. "Goodbye, Senator Djo. I doubt we'll see each other again."
"I hope otherwise." In a sad strange way she did. "This crisis isn't going to go away."
"You're right. It's going to get much, much worse. We all have to prepare for that."
With a swirl of Dramassian silk he was gone. Allana let herself lean back against the cold transparisteel window. She tried to imagine all of what was to come. Anger at Gnoll's death. Violence. A crackdown by the Houses. The formal withdrawal of Senex-Juvex from the Alliance.
Another Hapes.
The enormity of the failure was too much. She stumbled to the nearest sofa and collapsed onto it. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like to run away from it all, to shirk her title and all the awful responsibility of power and live in some state of hermetic mediation far, far away. To do what her mother had done. It felt so tempting, because she knew it could not be done.