Darth Havok knew he had to escape Coruscant's underworld, and to do that he needed to communicate with his agents in the city above. He had no idea what they'd done since his disappearance, but he was more worried about the political and military struggle in the wider galaxy. He'd been trapped here for days, struggling to survive and fight off the constant pain from his wounds, and had no idea what the traitor's daughter Saarai had done to muddle Lord Nihl's design, nor whether the campaigns in the Outer Rim were still successful.

The single advantage of his situation was that, once he donned the foul-smelled scraps of Galactic City's indigent population, none in the upper city deigned look at him twice. It was more effective than any disguise he or his Sith agents had conjured, and it allowed him to huddle in shadows on major concourses unnoticed and uncared for. He spent a complete day-cycle like that, watching the beings who came and went through a communications relay post attached to a major commercial district. It was lightly-protected compared to a government comm center but it should have the equipment he'd need to contact his agents and arrange rescue.

The comm relay was totally unguarded in the hours before dawn. Havok retreated to a lower level and allowed himself to sleep for the early part of the night, then crawled out once commerce on the avenue was dying down. He waited still, huddled unnoticed beneath his foul-smelling rags, until the once-busy pedestrian street was abandoned. Still clinging to shadow, he made his way to the relay's access panel and began prying it open with the only tool available to him: the serving knife he'd killed two indigents with days ago. Simple leverage popped the access panel open. Havok saw a readout screen and familiar-looking controls and felt like a man who'd just been awarded a feast.

His hands dashed over the controls, first entering an encryption frequency, then commandeering the transmitter to broadcast a message to his most trusted agents. It was short and simple, telling them he was alive and needed to be picked up at this location as soon as possible.

With that done, Havok erased records of his message in the terminal's memory banks, closed the panel tight, and began to retreat to his former hiding place on the far side of the boulevard. As soon as he stepped onto the concourse he froze. On the far end he saw the clustered silhouettes of at least a dozen beings. They were distant but he used his binoculars to affirm they were moving closer. When he looked to the other end he saw five or six more, nearer still and also approaching. Havok snarled and clutched the pathetic stolen serving knife in both hands, as though that would save him.

He forced himself to be calm; he didn't know who these beings were but there was no logical reason to think they were after him. He could retreat to shadows, cover himself in rancid clothes, and pretend to be an indigent as he had these past days. He found a small alley, wedged himself between the two buildings, and pulled himself inside his dirty robe. Like this, he told himself, he was invisible.

He waited, heart pounding, still clinging absurdly to the knife. From a lightsaber to this, he thought pathetically. Without the Force he'd been reduced to a sniveling, foul-smelling animal hiding in shadows.

When artificial light flashed down the alley he fought the urge to run. It passed over him, then came back. He heard a voice from the alley mouth call, "Can you come out here, sir?"

Havok ignored it and prayed they'd move on. Instead he heard foots scraping into the alley, and the voice repeated, "Sir, can you please stand up and come outside?"

He waited as they drew closer. Finally, knife hidden in his filthy robes, Havok stood up and peeked over the hood's rim to see a bland-faced young local security officer. The man said, "Sir, you're not allowed to stay here. That's trespass-ing."

Playing the indigent, Havok kept his head low and muttered, "Sorry, so sorry. I'll go." He didn't have to try to make his voice dry and rasping.

The security officer retreated toward the alley mouth. He was waiting for Havok to follow, but didn't seem ready to actually touch his filthy clothes. Still keeping his head low, Havok moved out onto the concourse. His side hurt yet again but he refrained from crying aloud. Once he was in the open new glowlamps flashed on him, from all sides. He held up his hands and whimpered, "Too much light, too much light."

A new voice, female, said, "Sir, can you look at me?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I'll go now. I go."

Firmly the voice said, "Look at me, sir."

Keeping hands close to block his face, Havok lifted his head and allowed one eye to peer through cracked fingers. He saw a woman wearing the scarlet armor of Imperial Knight, with thin scars lacing a face topped by short red hair.

The woman brought up her blaster. "Lower your hands right now, sir. Let me see your face."

There was no choice. Havok lunged. The woman skirted back. His knife scraped uselessly over her armor as her gun pumped one stun blast into his chest.

His body twisted and agony blossomed but was quickly overcome by numbness. The last thing Havok felt was the knife slipping from his fingers. He wasn't even awake when he hit the ground.

-{}-

Staring at the blank gray door to the interrogation cell, it was very difficult for Marasiah to focus on her uncle's words.

"Our medical team put him under sedation while he was still stunned," Hogrum was telling her. "He remained unconscious while they applied treatment to the blast wound in his abdomen. They say that if he had human anatomy he'd be dead by now."

"But he's awake?" She asked but dreaded the answer.

"Yes. Awake and bound."

"Has anyone spoken to him?"

"Not yet. Sia, please allow me to go in first. I can ask questions and gauge his responsiveness. If I need to, I can apply the proper tools."

A euphemism for torture, she thought. The man inside the chamber had murdered her mother, Hogrum's sister. She couldn't walk away from that room, but neither could he.

Her uncle had once told her that an empress never had to explain herself. She took that advice now and whispered, "I'll speak to him first."

"I understand. Do you want me to monitor from outside?"

"Yes," she said. Knowing she had an outside observer might help restrain her.

Marasiah stepped up the door, pushed it aside, and went through. She'd been told Darth Havok had removed his red-and-black Sith tattoos, but it was still jarring to look into the face of Eshkar Niin: her husband's teacher, her father's confidant, her mother's friend and murderer. They were all gone but he remained; it was proof of the universe's cruel injustice. She was surprised how weak Niin looked with ankles and wrists strapped to the bare metal chair. His shoulder had been fitted with a cast and though it was hidden by his drab gray jumpsuit, she knew the wound to his side was only partly healed.

When they'd last met he'd chained her half-naked to the stone walls of the Sith temple on Korriban. He'd tortured her and taunted her and tried to convince her that Antares was a traitor. Her mind had nearly broken then. As Marasiah looked into Niin's hollow eyes she felt grim satisfaction.

"You should be grateful," she said, "That I'm a kinder host than you are."

"I'm grateful for nothing," he rasped.

Marasiah stepped closer. She reminded herself there was nothing to fear from this man except the harm he'd already done her, and she tried to decide which of so many questions she should ask. She could ask why he'd joined the Sith and killed her mother, but she knew his justifications would only wrench her heart and spur her anger. She tried to focus on the questions of immediate importance.

"You attempted to kill Senator Porat Derrol," she said. "Why?"

He stared up at her without answering. She reached out with the Force to read his thoughts but found them well-guarded. As a Knight and Sith both, Niin had trained his mind. Even without the Force he could still raise walls.

"We know you had dealings with the Black Sun vigo on Vorzyd V," she said, and caught small surprise on his face. "You arranged for the assassination attempt on Bavinyar to coincide with the expansion of Darth Nihl's campaign in the Outer Rim, didn't you?"

He said, "The goal was to cause chaos. It wasn't even important that you be killed."

She'd been wrong. He could still hurt her. Her heart burned at the thought that Antares had died over a ploy, an assassination attempt that wasn't even intended to succeed. "Your apprentice died on Bavinyar," she said. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Antares was potential wasted. He had so much anger in him, but he never became Sith."

"He was a stronger man than you ever were, Niin. A better man." He flinched at that name but didn't correct her. "You should know we found the calls you made on the communications relay before we captured you. We're tracing your agents on Coruscant as we speak. We'll find out everything you've been doing here before we eradicate every trace of Sith poison on this planet."

It was satisfying to say, but Niin's reaction was still frustratingly guarded. Bending forward, leaning close, she said, "Tell me about Porat Derrol. Was he involved in the Bavinyar assassination?"

He said nothing and showed nothing. This was how it would be then: stoic refusal.

"We can force you to tell us," she said. "My uncle Hogrum is outside this door. You murdered his sister. He'll enjoy making you suffer before you talk."

"Like you then, Sia?"

His use of her pet name stirred something inside her. One hand lashed out and slapped him hard enough to turn his horned head. He turned it right back at her.

"We know you've been Nihl's agent, and that you arranged the attack at Bavinyar. We will make you suffer for all of that, Niin, but we'll make you suffer more if you don't tell us what happened with Derrol."

Voice still dead he said, "Grief's made you cruel, Sia. Like your father."

She slapped him again, harder. She couldn't help herself. He was trying to enrage her; she'd make him sorry for it. "Tell me about Derrol. Now."

He stared at her, mind still guarded from the Force, and his stoic expression lapsed into a tiny, smug smile.

He could wall off his mind but not his body. Marasiah reached out with the Force and took firm hold of Niin's windpipe. She'd never done this before, not to anyone, but it came easily. She watched his neck strain as he squeezed it and felt great satisfaction at his fear. Even his walls started to crack, revealing surprise and terror.

"Talk now," she growled, "Or you will never talk again."

And she found she didn't want him to speak. She wanted to keep pressing, keep squeezing, keep using her building anger to crush the life from this man and finally pay back some of the pain he'd given her. For her mother's sake, for Antares,' for her father and all the Knights he'd betrayed, Eshkar Niin deserved to die in agony. As she pressed harder on his throat she couldn't think of a single reason not to administer long-deserved justice right here, right now.

Words squeaked out of his throat: "Wait, please."

With great reluctance, she relaxed her grip. "Was Derrol involved with Bavinyar?"

Niin rebuilt the walls around his mind and asked, "Do you want to know why I killed your mother?"

She breathed deep and tried to contain her rage. "Answer my question."

"I killed her because I loved her," rasped Niin, "And to become Sith, I had to kill what I loved."

He lowered his walls enough for her to know the truth. She felt the echo of Niin's internal havoc and the thrill of Havok's triumph. It roused anger like she'd never known and she grabbed his neck with both hands. Muscle and cartilage felt good beneath her palms and she squeezed. Niin twisted his face in stoic resolve but kept his eyes on her, daring her to snap his neck and kill him here and now.

And she wanted to. For all the pain he'd given her and her family and all the Knights he deserved justice and justice deserved to be agonizing. Anger inside her welled to the surface and became crackling energy that burned off her hands and scattered across Niin's body. His mouth dropped open and his face wrenched in pain as her hate took physical form and began rending him cell by cell. With her attack his walls fell completely. His terror and fear were a joy to experience, just as it was a joy to have him at her mercy after so many years.

"Sia, wait!" a voice called behind her.

She jerked her hands off Niin's throat and turned. The cell door was open, her uncle's black-cloaked form filling the space. More restrained, he said, "Can I speak to you outside?"

Marasiah looked at her trembling hand and saw sparks die between her fingertips.

Grief's made you cruel, Sia. Like your father.

She shuddered and hurried out of the room. She couldn't bear to look at Niin again. Once they were outside, the cell door shut, her uncle said, "I'm sorry, but you lost control in there."

"I know, Uncle." She locked her hands together, afraid of what they might do next. "Niin… Darth Havok… He was…"

"He was baiting you into killing him," Hogrum said. "He wants to die with all his knowledge. We can't let that happen. We need to find Derrol's role in this."

"I let my anger take control, just like he wanted… Uncle, I was going dark…"

He gripped her shoulders. "You have every right to hate him, and to want him punished. So do I. But we can't do it yet. We need proof before we kill him. Then we can make him suffer."

Hogrum's voice held all the bitterness and rage she'd felt minutes ago, and she recoiled from his touch. "I can't condone that kind of thinking. I won't. It destroyed my father."

"You're stronger than him, Sia. You won't make his mistakes. I know that. You're like your mother. You will never falter."

She wished she could believe that. Right now she only knew that she'd stood on the same precipice as Roan Fel, and only her uncle's chance intervention had kept her from plunging off.

Marasiah took a deep breath and straightened her robes. "Uncle… You were right. I can't do this interrogation, not now. Please… Handle it for me."

"I'd be glad to."

"But do not torture him."

"Sia-"

"I mean it." She shifted a hand to his arm. "You're still an Imperial Knight, even if you can't feel the Force. And you're the only family I have left. I won't have you going to the dark."

"Niin's mental resistance is formidable. You've felt that already. Administering pain is the only way to break his resistance and get the truth."

"You'd enjoy giving him pain. Don't lie. I would too. We can't become like that." Like the Sith. Like her father. She couldn't. As one of the last Force-users left in the galaxy it was all the more important that she hold the line and stay true to the light. She had to make sure her Knights followed that rule too, even now. She shifted her hand to touch his. "Please, Uncle. Promise me."

Like Niin, he was a master at hiding his true feelings in the Force, but he said, "Yes. I promise."

"Thank you." She squeezed and released. "Do what you must… I need to be alone right now."

-{}-

He'd been deprived of everything: his weapons, his loyal agents, even the Force. They'd broken his body and strapped him to a chair and left him to be tortured, but Darth Havok was still a Sith. He believed that because he had to. It was the only thing he had left.

When the door opened next, Hogrum Chalk stepped inside. He'd been expecting that. The man seemed to glide across the floor, body hidden beneath wrapped black robes. When they'd both been Imperial Knights he'd had a hard time getting sense of the man. Hogrum was intelligent and meticulous but very private. Havok had sensed the man loved his older sister deeply, and as Elliah's killer he expected no mercy.

Very likely, he would die in this room. He tried not to be afraid. He was a Sith, he told himself. He could turn even death to his advantage.

"How is Sia?" he asked. "Is she still upset?"

Hogrum loomed above him, formless black topped by a scarred, scowling face. His mechanical eye glowed red in the chamber's gloom. "You won't hurt the empress any longer."

"I've hurt her enough. And you. You'll kill me, won't you?"

"Yes. I will."

"And you'll enjoy it."

"Yes. But I need information from you first."

"Sia said she's dismantling my spy network as we speak. Or is that a lie?"

"It's happening, but it will take time. You'll know more than any of them, Niin."

The use of his old name rankled, but Havok hid annoyance. "She sent you to torture me, didn't you? You'll be able to make me talk without staining yourself with the dark side of the Force. That's so… convenient for her."

"Sia ordered me not to torture you."

"How virtuous. She's like Elliah, isn't she?"

Part of Hogrum's robes peeled away, revealing the silver lightsaber hooked to his belt. His hand moved past it and removed something else; a smaller metal cylinder, outwardly plain, but containing a dozen retractable blades, needles, and other instruments of pain. Havok knew torture devices.

Fear surged through him but he tamed it. Hogrum was willing to counter the empress' orders. That was interesting. He had to use it somehow.

The scarred man tapped a recessed button on the cylinder and extended a thick needle as long as his forefinger. He held it out so the blunted tip pressed against the center of Havok's chest and said, "Tell me how you arranged for the assassination attempt on Bavinyar. Explain every word."

Havok needed time to think. Marasiah had already explained that they'd traced him to Vorzyd V, which had been a mistake on her part. It gave him truth to twist into a lie. He knew Hogrum was impatient, and as his mind raced he braced himself for the pain he knew would com.

Hogrum didn't wait. The device's electric charge was worse than Marasiah's untrained use of Force lightning. The concentrated burst pumped out through the center of his chest; if he'd had the same physiology as a human it would have been enough to stop his heart.

The pain lasted less than ten seconds and erased all thought. When Hogrum pulled the shocker back, Havok slumped in his chair and shuddered with echoed pain. His mind worked desperately.

He couldn't give his enemies the full truth. He'd deny them that victory. He had to give Hogrum the lie he wanted to believe, but Elliah's brother was so obscure, so guarded, Havok had never understood his desires.

But Elliah. There was a place to start. Hogrum would want revenge for his sister, but what else?

The human moved his shocker over to Havok's strapped-down right hand. That kind of pain would paralyze half his body. The Sith stalled him, "Darth Nihl gave me the order… I went to Vorzyd and spoke with the vigo. Pleshchai. I convinced him chaos on Coruscant was in Black Sun's interests. He agreed to set up the assassination."

"When was this? Be specific. How many days before the attack?"

Havok strained to remember. Hogrum stabbed the shocker into his hand. His entire arm trembled uncontrollably in its binds and his right side shuddered with uncontrollable pain. He looked at his captor and saw a tiny, satisfied smile on the man's mouth. Oh yes, he was enjoying this in a way Marasiah would never allow. Hogrum was not like Elliah. He was different from his sister entirely.

Peeling lips from teeth in a bitter grin, he told the human, "You didn't give me time to think."

"How long?" Hogrum repeated.

"That was… five standard days before the attack."

"Where did you go then?"

"Coruscant. I came here."

Hogrum placed the shocker over the same hand. "Tell me about Coruscant. What did you do here?"

Havok remembered Marasiah's pressing on Porat Derrol and realized Hogrum wanted the same information. His thoughts turned to the Chagrian senator and then his wife. With everything else he'd almost forgotten them, a foolish mistake.

He could explain the truth. Hogrum would surely take down Saarai and her husband and whatever they were planning together. It would satisfy Havok's desire to see Wyyrlok's daughter ruined, yet he couldn't end with just that. Victory over one enemy would be no victory if it came through surrender to another.

Hogrum stabbed his arm again. As he twisted in electric agony, Havok told himself he was a Sith, he made pain his tool. He turned it into a silent mantra as the residual shocks rippled through his body.

"Coruscant," Hogrum said. He stepped back as though to admire his work, then retracted the shocker into the cylinder. He extended another torture tool: a simple stiletto blade. "Tell me what you did on Coruscant."

The man seemed convinced Black Sun's assassins had gotten help from the capital. That meant he believed Senator Derrol, at least, had been complicit, maybe other senators. Maybe Derrol's old commander, Gar Stazi. It had been Vigo Pleshchai's clever stroke to hire a down-and-out Alliance soldier to shoot at Marasiah, and Havok could exploit that gift farther still.

He could see it all now. Hogrum had always been rigorous, but his rigor had become paranoia. The Alliance's great victory in the senate vote must have strengthened it.

Havok realized what he could give Hogrum, but if he wanted it to be believable he couldn't make it easy. Pain still twitching through his body, he said, "I admit it. About Derrol."

Hogrum leaned in held the blade centimeters from Havok's face. Its lethal gleam stirred more fear but like a Sith he converted it to strength. "Why did he shoot at you?"

First he had to coat one lie in another. "I didn't go there… because of Derrol. I wanted to test their security, but he saw me in the garage and recognized me as an intruder. To run into a soldier like that… the Force has truly left me."

Hogrum flipped his weapon to an underhand grip and pounded it into the back of Havok's hand. It was worse pain than anything and his whole body bucked and twisted in the chair. Dark blood spurted out and leaked onto the armrest but the stiletto plugged most of the wound.

It took several minutes before Havok could speak. Hogrum waited patiently, hands once more hidden beneath his cloak.

Through his agony the Sith grunted, "Sia… would not approve of this."

"The empress is an idealist, like her mother. Someone has to take the burdens she can't." Havok heard a protective streak, but a ruthless and cynical one. Fitting for a man who'd lost his beloved sister to betrayal.

"This isn't a burden… You're enjoying this."

Hogrum admitted it with a simple nod. "Why were you really going to see Derrol?"

Havok had planned to draw Hogrum out more, bait him with more lies until he finally gave the man one he'd be happy to accept. The blade through his hand sent agony through his body; he'd barely managed the initial burst without passing out and didn't know how much more he could stand. When he risked a glance at his hand he saw it surrounded by pooling blood.

Fighting pain and nausea he looked to Hogrum. "I hadn't heard from him… since Bavinyar, I was going to confront him, make sure he was still loyal. I got… my answer, didn't it?"

Hogrum didn't bite the bait immediately. "Derrol fought for seven years against the Sith. Why would he join you now?"

"Do I have the face of a Sith? No. He never knew. Only that we… had the same enemy…. You… and Sia."

"Tell me what Derrol did. Tell me exactly."

"Kagar Aynes… He worked for Pleshchai. Very low muscle. Pleshchai saw his connection with Derrol. He recommended I talk to the senator, get him to convince Aynes."

Hogrum did mental calculation. "You met with Derrol immediately after you arrived from Vorzyd?"

"Yes. Right away. We knew we only had a little time… I spoke with Derrol in private… and Derrol convinced Aynes."

"So Derrol knew exactly what he was doing?"

"Death to all tyrants," Havok rasped Aynes' suicide note. "Of course he knew… Him at least…"

Hogrum was already calculating what he'd do with his information. Havok could see that. He'd move against Derrol, whether the empress approved or not. It would be enough to ruin the senator, surely. As for Saarai… Perhaps she'd be caught up in the sweep. Her activity in the senator's favor was well-known. Even if she wasn't caught, she'd lose her husband and her tool. At best she'd be reduced to a nobody once again. It wasn't as satisfying as destroying her entirely, but it was still a victory.

An even better one would be breaking the coalition that had toppled Krayt. Havok hissed, "Derrol… is still close to Stazi. I have proof."

"Instead of hearsay?" Hogrum said skeptically. "What kind of proof?"

"Derrol met Stazi. In private. Sulking in an alley in the night. I trailed Derrol and found them together. I recorded it on my binoculars." Body still twitching in pain, he hissed laughter. "When I fell... I lost my comm, my lightsaber, everything I needed, but not the binoculars… Isn't that funny?"

Hogrum looked at him thoughtfully, then turned without a word. The door opened, his black-robed body passed through, and it closed tight again. Havok was still strapped to his chair with a knife punched through his hand. He was losing blood and nothing could block the pain of his wound. He was trapped and might die soon but still smiled to himself, alone in the last room he'd ever see. He'd conquered his pain and used his enemy's desire against him. The fracturing Federation would break itself.

Some time later- minutes had no meaning for Havok, not now- Hogrum Chalk returned. He came in alone. He looked down at Havok in silence and the Sith couldn't read his expression. Pain, stress and blood loss had made him weary. It was a struggle to focus his eyes on the scarred face above him.

"What did you think you'd gain by telling us the truth?"

Hogrum sounded genuinely interested. Havok hadn't been prepared for the question, but a response came easily. "Satisfaction. At least now… I can see your Federation fall apart… Some revenge for Darth Krayt."

"I won't allow that to happen." He said it with conviction.

"But Sia will want justice for Draco's death… Won't she?"

"She'll get justice." Hogrum's cloak pulled back. There was no torture tool hooked to his belt, only the lightsaber. He drew it out and thumbed it on, extended the long white blade. "I won't let you have the satisfaction of seeing it."

This was it, then. The lies and deceptions, confusions and transformations, all to end here. It wasn't the fate Eshkar Niin had imagined when he'd joined the Sith, but he'd been a Sith to the end, transmuting his pain and twisting his enemies so they warred each other.

It was something to be proud of, Havok thought, as the vengeful blade flashed final white.