I own nothing. Least of all this.
2) I CAN STILL REMEMBER HOW
Unfortunately, our journey to Dathomir was cut a bit short.
How short, you may ask?
We didn't even make it out of the conference.
Disguised as delivery man (and woman) or not, Komari and I both had overlooked two very important facts. One, once we delivered the ysalamiri, we were no longer hidden by its effect on the Force. And two, there were a pair of Jedi in attendance.
One of which had every reason in existence to remember Vosa.
"I had hoped your passing into the Force would lead to an improvement in the kind of company you keep, Komari. It pains me to see I was wrong."
Vosa snorted. "Jinn, when has admitting you were wrong ever given you anything but pain? Ooo, they let you have an Apprentice again! Brave of them. After all, it's not like your last two didn't go completely off the rails or anything."
And of course that was the lane of attack she went for. Poor Obi-Wan; kid actually flinched at Vosa's remarks. I sighed and resisted the urge to run my fingers through my (currently helmeted) hair.
Welp, there was only one thing left to do: damage control. "So; Jinn and Kenobi. Wish I could say it's a pleasure to meet you; but I'm afraid we have a rather pressing engagement, and any meaningful introductions will just have to wait 'till a later date. We'll just be on our way, then."
Ever the hothead, Jinn went for his saber. He did, however, manage to restrain himself enough to avoid igniting it.
Yet.
"I believe you'll find your schedule remarkably free for the foreseeable future; you will both be coming with us."
"Oh?" Vosa was smirking; I didn't even need to see it to know. "Have we done something wrong, Master Jedi? I was unaware gainful employment with delivery service was considered illegal nowadays; much less under the jurisdiction of the Jedi Order."
"The only gainful employment you've ever engaged in, Vosa, was a wholesale slaughter the Senate practically paid you retail prices for. And unlawful acquisition and usage of a Class 5 security clearance is more than enough reason to detain the pair of you. Not to mention the shrieking pain your partner seems to cause around him in the Force. The Council is going to have some very interesting questions. I hope, for your sake, the answers are just as intriguing."
Vosa just sarcastically snapped her fingers and huffed. "Darn! Guess we'll just have to let ourselves get arrested, then."
Kenobi frowned, and for the very first time, spoke. "Really?"
"HAH! No. Have at you!"
Her saber may've still been in need of repairs, but I had every faith in her capability to incapacitate a 16-year old Obi-Wan Kenobi without it. Qui-Gon Jinn, however, was a different matter entirely.
The instant he ignited his emerald blade, my right hand shot out...and grabbed it.
Honestly, don't ask me why; I'm just stupid that way. Fortunately, it worked. It took all of about three seconds for Jinn's saber to give a rather sad-sounding sputter...and then die on the spot.
The look of horror on the pillock's face alone was worth it; but what came next was just the icing on the cake. I clenched my fist, reared back, and did something I'd been dreaming of ever since I read the Jedi Apprentice series:
I punched Qui-Gon Jinn right in the face.
The minute his head flew back, I grabbed his collar, and yanked his already abused nose down onto my forehead. There was no mistaking the source of the resulting crack; good. A broken nose would keep him occupied. But just to make sure…
My boot jerked upwards into his danglies hard enough to launch him into the air; followed swiftly by my elbow pile-driving him straight down into the Kalevalan marble. Hey man, when pretty much every form of self-defense is illegal on your college campus, you gotta learn a few things.
As the revered Jedi lay groaning (and bleeding) on the ground, a glowing blue blur came screaming out of nowhere...straight for his unprotected back.
"NO!"
The blade halted mere inches from impact.
"Doooon't kill him. If you kill him…"
My eyes never left Vosa's as I reached down and retrieved Jinn's dead saber. "...He won't learn nothin'."
For a brief moment, the blue blade hung motionless in mid-air...and then deactivated with a hiss. "Your funeral."
"Considering today was meant to be Adonai Kryze's? I'll take that trade. Put him to sleep, and we'll wrap this up."
"Your call, Black. But for the record, this is a bad idea."
I sighed. "Unfortunately…"
Obi-Wan's (now Vosa's) saber hilt connected with the back of Jinn's head.
"...Most ideas involving Qui-Gon Jinn are."
I turned towards the exit...and realized that there were about ten Mandalorians standing in front of it. Ten Mandalorians, who had just seen and heard everything.
To quote Crowley:
"Bollocks."
Darth Plagueis, as the current Sith Master (and quite possibly the most-powerful man in the galaxy), did not very often find himself enthralled in the icy grips of terror. Worry, yes; fear, never. And horror was an even less familiar emotion.
Yet terror and horror had been all that consumed his mind ever since he opened that box. Ever since he had scuttled away from the conference as fast as he could, locked himself in the secure room he'd prepared beforehand, and dared to look inside.
And to think of what he had almost allowed to happen; no, what he himself had almost done...it came close to rendering him catatonic.
Once more, his trembling fingers swept over the screen, and pressed the replay button.
And once more, a blurred and unrecognizable face blinked into existence.
"Greetings, Darth Plagueis; I am Mister Black. This message is meant as both warning, and advice. For there are things beyond your, and indeed, beyond anyone else's comprehension within this reality; and should you continue down your present course, you will find yourself denied not only that which you yourself have long labored for, but that which all the Sith have striven for since the time of Bane.
The creature now within your possession is known as a 'ysalamiri'; a biological weapon designed by the extinct denizens of the planet Myrkr. It's effects should be obvious to you; but it's purpose will not. It was created as a means to combat the ancient Rakatans, whose connection to the Force was beyond anything the universe has seen before or since. It fulfilled its role admirably, and the Rakatans were driven from the planet's surface; but not, unfortunately, from the skies. The Rakatans deployed an unknown weapon, resulting in the extinction of all other wildlife on Myrkr. It is believed refinement of this weapon led to the current state of Tatooine and Jakku. The message contained within both this story, and the ysalamiri itself, is quite simply this: never get in an arse-kicking contest with a hedgehog.
You are capable of kicking quite a few arses, Darth Plagueis; but I'm afraid your Apprentice has an almost equivalent talent for pissing off hedgehogs.
The assasination of Adonai Kryze would've left the entire Mandalorian system in chaos for well over fifty years; with his daughter Satine being the only one to ever come close to plugging the leaks. An acceptable outcome, when your desired goal is galactic civil war...but not so great when, forty years from now, this galaxy is invaded by an outside force as strong as the ancient Rakatans.
And in the end, it is Mandalorian-trained troops of the Chiss Ascendancy who are the first line of defense.
The Yuuhzan Vong make it all the way to Coruscant, converting entire planets into organic factories that pour out reinforcements by the freighter-load.
Your Apprentice had, in fact, planned for such an invasion. But he went and kicked another hedgehog, and the Rebellion against his Empire managed to destroy his contingency plan...without ever knowing that was what they were doing.
Twice.
With he himself perishing in the second incident.
Sidious rules the galaxy for thirty years with a deliberately handicapped Apprentice and system, and when he dies, the galaxy has a mere ten years to prepare for an invasion they have no idea is coming.
Even in death, Sidious manages to make such a fool of himself that it takes over twenty years for another Sith Lord to rise after his demise.
But he is not alone in his failings.
For you are his Master, Plagueis. And your actions contributed to his downfall as much as his own. With the death of Adonai Kryze being just the first of these.
Mandalore must have peace, if the galaxy is to survive. But no matter how you decide to handle the matter, the New Mandalorians must notbecome the ruling class. Disarmament will destroy not just their legacy, but yours as well.
I have no doubt you wish to know more; about this matter, as well as others. And I have every intention of enlightening you; because as much as I hate to admit it, a Sith Empire is the strongest defense against what is coming. Not just the Yuuzhan Vong, but things I dare not mention in a recording. That being said, I am no fool, and I'd rather keep the inside of my head to myself. Come to Dathomir, with no one else but your Apprentice's pet, and I will be more than happy to accommodate you.
Black, out."
Plagueis was not the head of Damask Holdings for nothing; Muuns had an unsurpassed ability to read between the lines. And between the lines of Black's message was the most heartbreaking, horrifying revelation he had ever heard:
Sidious, his beloved Apprentice, his son in all but name...had betrayed him.
The name of Plagueis had been conspicuously missing from the course of history that Black had described...and the only way that would ever occur is if his Apprentice had killed him.
Throughout the entire recording, it was always Sidious' empire, Sidious' apprentice, Sidious' system, and Sidious' death. Never a mention of his own actions, beyond an event that had yet to happen, and now would never happen.
Mister Black had made sure of it.
It really was an ingenious plan; the ysalamiri not only occluded Black's presence to the Jedi that were present, it also muddled his own control to the point that any attempt he made on Kryze's life would immediately be recognized for what it was. That is to say, choking on the Force, rather than on the poison he had planned to make it appear as.
Even in leaving the creature with Plagueis, Black showed a tremendous grasp of strategy. He must've known that the Jedi would eventually have found him, or at the very least recognized his...aherm, partner. By deliberately choosing the timing of his confrontation with Jinn (and the insufferable man's Padawan), he had given Plagueis both the chance to make his own exit, undetected by the Jedi...and the time to erase any and all evidence that there had ever been anything out of place here.
Much less the delivery of a living bioweapon.
Plagueis leaned back in his chair, and chuckled to himself. This security feed had really been worth the effort to hack after all: watching Jinn's nose come under assault not once, but twice, more than proved it. The instant Black and Vosa managed to make their way past the Mandalorians currently obstructing their exit, the conference's surveillance feeds would all suffer an unexpected failure, erasing every scrap of data from the past twenty-four hours.
Leaving Plagueis as the only person left with a copy in the entire galaxy.
Maybe he'd make a copy for Black as a thank-you.
After, of course, he dealt with his wayward Apprentice. Sidious would have an extreme amount of explaining to do when he returned to Coruscant.
It never occurred to him to doubt Black; why should he? Any man that would go to the trouble of meeting a Sith Lord face-to-face, just to deliver a message, was more than worth listening to.
And also watching. Oh, he couldn't wait to see what happened next.
"Please tell me you know what happens next." Komari hissed.
"Ah; well, you see...nope. Haven't got a clue."
"Black…"
"But I dare say that gentleman with the large W on his chest plate probably does. Hello there!" I waved. "Let me see; Kyr'tsad, obviously, but not Vizsla...perhaps Count Wren?"
The man in question merely crossed his arms. "Perhaps. You have thirty seconds to give me a good reason not to shoot you for daring to attack a Jedi at a peace conference."
"Well, I would say something here about how it's kind of hard to shoot someone when you yourself are unarmed, but you're a Mandalorian, so I can't really do that. How about...your boss planned to have Kryze assassinated today and was hoping these gentlemen would take out their righteous anger on you and your friends?"
Count Wren snorted. "Considering I'm the one who backed him into this thing in the first place, I'd believe it. Tor never did like being pushed around. Fine; you can go. But I would advise you: don't come back to Mandalore. Death Watch may have no quarrel with you, aruetii, but the Jedi, and by extension, the New Mandalorians, will. K'oyacyi."
"K'oyacyi, Count Wren. Vor entye."
"Yes; you do."
And with that, the wave of pure Mando muscle and beskar parted, leaving the way clear.
We didn't stick around to watch it close in behind us.
Plagueis stroked his chin. So; Mister Black was not perhaps as well-prepared as he first thought. However, it seemed his ability to adapt to unforeseen circumstances filled in the holes of his plans quite nicely, with added bonuses as well; Death Watch would be infinitely easier to deal with if Count Wren could wrest it's control from Tor Vizsla.
He pushed a single button on his datapad...and the feed automatically cut out, uploading in its entirety to his Ghost Node. He tapped another, and his pilots immediately began prepping for takeoff.
Maul...yes, that was the name of his Apprentice's pet. And considering Black had specified to bring him along to Dathomir, a planet notoriously hard on males of any species, he hazarded a guess that Sidious had been less than straightforward on the matter of his acquisition.
Yet another matter to add to the list.
No doubt about it; Sidious' next trip to Coruscant would be very, very unpleasant indeed.