Chapter 1: Resurgence
Reformation Year 981.03.11
Outland Transit Station
Sugi stared around as the exclusive levels of Outland zipped past their transit car. "I'm starting to wonder if Davine is a bigger shot than he thinks he is."
Beside her, Rumi frowned at the datapad that had been delivered via station security droid that morning. "Or maybe he just has some pull with the owner. The VIP suites are guaranteed to be more secure. Maybe he rented it for a couple hours."
The human man with dark hair and a scarred face who met them at the door was definitely not Davine. He squinted at them for a moment, the scar twisting the outer edge of his right eyebrow, before calling over his shoulder, "Gar burc'yaré olar. Ni Boba te'habir bé." He glanced back at the two of them, gave his head a tilt indicating they should enter, and led the way down a short hall with a closed door on one side and a partially enclosed kitchen on the other.
Sugi looked up at Rumi, who widened her eyes a little. The scar aside, the man gave off some seriously dangerous vibes. Was he a bodyguard or something?
Beyond the entrance hall, the dining area of the very much lived-in apartment was looking a little full with a Whiphid, a fellow Zabrak, a Zygerrian teen, two droids, two adult humans, and a small human child all seated around a circular table with an array of bottled drinks in the middle. There was barely enough room left on the curved couch for the two of them.
The space issue was resolved somewhat as the older man scooped the boy out of his seat. "Olar, Boba."
The kid pouted in a way that was probably meant to be adorable and convincing. "Awww! Ni copaani cuy'olar!"
"Val gana bor'koor jorhaa'i'bé. Mhi ven'yaimpar ven val kyr'nari."
The man settled his kid on his hip and nodded to the others before leaving; the boy waved over the man's shoulder at the group, saying, "'Bye, Zozo!" The Zygerrian teenager grinned and waved back.
"Ni ven'chaaj'jorhaa'i gar," one of the other humans called as the man and boy left, and Sugi blinked. There was something strongly familiar about the bearded human, and it took her a long moment to recognise Davine without… well, being Davine. No scars save the big one across his left eye, reddish-blond hair pulled back in a high knot, and a neat beard framing his jaw changed his appearance dramatically. Even his comfortable slump against the Whiphid woman's flank offered very different body language from Davine's usual brash arrogance.
Davine waved them over with a grin. "Have a seat, have a beer, relax. If it weren't for the fact that I don't trust the Hutts, I'd have just met you in a bar. Sorry for the mystery."
Rumi pursed her lips at him in annoyance. "Are you sure you're Davine? You don't even sound like him. Which accent is real?"
Everyone laughed and the tension cracked. "This one," he said. "And as Feid-" he gestured to the Zabrak woman, who tilted her bottle in a jaunty salute- "told you, the whole thing is a con, and Davine isn't my real name. My name is Bastra. This is Kate, Pulkka, Zohli, Feid, Deesix, and Phel," he added, going around the seating from the astromech at his right elbow and around from his left. Sugi and Rumi shook hands with everyone despite having already known each other informally, even the modified astromech whistled cheerfully.
Sugi claimed part of the remaining space on Phel's left, facing Davine - Bastra - across the table, and took a moment to examine the bottles. None of them were labelled, and they appeared to be a variety of home-brews, likely purchased from one of the traders on the station. She chose one that looked particularly dark - possibly brewed with caf or chocolate - and twisted the cap off. "That's… more forthcoming than we were expecting."
"If you want to be a part of this, you need to know at least as much as Alim's crew does," Bastra said with a shrug.
Rumi settled beside Sugi on the edge of the couch, picked a bottle filled with something vibrantly red, and stared at the Whiphid. "So if you're Pulkka, and she's Feid, and he's Bastra… I'm guessing Alim is Hondo fucking Ohnaka."
Bastra looked extremely amused as the others snickered. "Okay, maybe we've built a bit more of a reputation than I thought we had."
"He's too scrawny to be Nym," Rumi said with a grin. "Nym and I go back a ways. In the good way."
"Oh, excellent, old friends." Bastra's cheerful grin was parsecs away from Davine's chilly glares. No wonder he used the persona: nobody would ever connect someone that easygoing with Davine's dead-eyed ruthlessness. What had happened to Krayn and Porla was still sending shockwaves through the underworld, and a lot of Hutts, Vigos, and other vicious criminal types would have paid an awful lot of money to find the person responsible.
Bastra took a quick sip from his bottle and cleared his throat. "Here's the deal: you keep our secrets; we keep yours. Once in a while, there might be a situation best handled by ruthless people who can't be found after it's over. You're welcome to suggest something; everything is of course dependent upon whether we have the people available to pull it off and a solid plan for doing so."
Sugi waited a moment, but he seemed to be finished. "That's it? No contracts signed in blood or anything?"
The Zygerrrian, Zohli, giggled. "Ew, really?"
"Well I don't know how else you prevent someone from breaking a promise."
"That only works in stories," Bastra said, shaking his head. "We're all bounty hunters here. If one of us betrays the others, that's an awful lot of firepower we'd have to face, isn't it?"
Rumi leaned forward. "You have more to lose, though. Your former teacher hunting you down?"
The human stroked his bearded jaw in a manner that looked both distinguished and calculated. "My former teacher is an opportunist. He's not going out of his way to track me down, but if I do surface, as I did on Coruscant, he's not above hiring people to catch me."
"How did you get away from him?" Sugi asked. "Last we knew, Black Sun was taking you offworld."
"Ah." He bared his teeth and there was more than a little of the predator in his grin, reminding them that while the deaths of Krayn and Porla were attributed to Davine, Bastra was still the person behind the mask. "I happen to be very, very good at breaking out of military-grade prison facilities."
Zohli flicked a bottle cap at him. "It would be nice if you didn't have to, you know."
"They didn't exactly care to ask permission, sweetheart." But he gave her an apologetic smile.
Sugi glanced at the others, but none of them gave the slightest indication that he was even remotely exaggerating.
Feid smirked and met her gaze. "There's two reasons we weren't particularly worried for him. The second is the guy who owns this apartment."
The scary guy with the adorable kid. Sugi had no idea what language they'd been speaking in, but Bastra clearly knew enough of it to be conversational. Shared culture, maybe, or close enough familiarity that they could be friends.
"He's a bounty hunter too?"
"Far better than I am," Bastra confirmed. "I may have broken out of the holding cells, but he's the one who blew the outer wall open."
Scary people with scarier friends. Those were the best kind of allies to make. And if she and Rumi ended up in over their heads on something, having backup to call would definitely be nice. Sugi cleared her throat. "Well. The way I see it, you're worth an awful lot more to us as a friend than as a target."
"Good allies are worth their weight in aurodium," he agreed.
Phel had spent most of the time absently noodling on xir datapad; from the rhythmic motion of xir fingers, they were either coding or playing a game. Xe glanced up with an endearingly lopsided, gap-toothed smile. "So we missed all the post-reveal drama. Were you there for whatever happened with Ziro?"
Grimacing, Rumi nodded. "Hutt justice is… very different. They weren't mad that Ziro tried to off Ebor; they were mad that he was bad enough at it to both fail and get caught. By a bunch of bipeds, no less. He's been trying to get some business or other off the ground on Sleheyron for a while, but when Mama let everyone and their grand-slug know Ziro was… what was it she called him?"
"A 'pathetic, ineffectual weakling who failed to learn the most basic rules of doing business'," Sugi quoted with relish.
"That's it. He's lost almost every business ally he had worked so hard to cultivate, and Mama told him to not bother comming in the future. He might even have been disowned." She shrugged. "Might not seem like much to us, but for the Hutts, what Ziro did was the equivalent of political suicide."
"By failing?" Zohli asked. Her large, pointed ears had swiveled back almost flat.
"Hutts prize boldness and success over even family ties," Bastra explained. "If he'd pulled it off, it wouldn't matter if the truth came out later, the Cartel would have been doubly impressed. Nirru likely would have forgiven him."
Zohli's face scrunched up in distaste.
"Hardeen was certain you were hiding something," Rumi said, and Feid snorted.
"Who isn't hiding something? Hardeen's raised paranoia to an art form."
"Good point." Sugi sipped her beer; her guess that it had been flavoured with caf had been correct. "So what now?"
Pulkka rolled her massive shoulders. "You go your way, we go ours. The Red Sun act doesn't work if we all stay together."
"It's mostly for safety. I'm sure the Hutt Cartel itself would love to get their hands on me for the Krayn situation," Bastra said with a grin. "And if they can't find Davine, they'll be looking for his crew. A large organization can't hide, but independent fighters can disappear into the crowd easily."
"Would you be open to sharing information beyond Red Sun matters?" Rumi asked. Everyone nodded, even the battle droid.
"It rather defeats the purpose of being allies if we're at odds," Deesix said, and Sugi startled at the timbre of its vox emitter - lower-pitched, less nasal, and differently accented from the B1s staffing the Outland. It tilted its head at her as if amused at her reaction.
Feid chuckled. "We share intel with Alim - Hondo - and Nym all the time. It's good to have backup on occasion. And Nym's immediate crew knows about the Red Sun gig. They helped us set it up."
"That is quite the network," Sugi said. Being involved with these people might be even better than they'd initially thought.
"It's a bit broader than that, even, but I'm not sure how pleased our other sources might be at being known." His smile was a crooked, mischievous thing. "Suffice it to say we don't need to know about your sources either, as long as you trust them."
Rumi grinned back. "As long as they're not gunning for you?"
"Are you working with Cavik Toth or Garris Shrike?"
Sugi made a gagging noise and Rumi rolled her eyes. "Ugh, those assholes? Never."
"Then we're probably safe," Bastra said cheerfully.
"Probably." Sugi squinted at him. "What about your teacher? Anything you can tell us so we know to avoid him?"
Bastra hesitated, and the rest of his crew looked uncomfortable, even the droid. After a moment, he said slowly, "He uses a lot of aliases, some I likely don't know. But if you see anything about someone who calls themself 'Sidious' - or 'Tyranus', who's an ally of his - run. And let me know as soon as you're safe."
Sugi pursed her lips. "Those aren't pleasant sounding names, Bastra."
His eyes went flinty for a bare second, a hard look that spoke of bad personal experiences. "They're not pleasant people. Don't try to mess with them, don't attempt to stick it out to get more information. I'd prefer people not get killed on my behalf."
Scary people with scary allies and scarier enemies. Sugi exchanged a glance with Rumi; her own mind was already made up, but her friend…? Her friend gave her a firm nod, her mouth set in a hard line. Bastra hadn't tried to play the risk down, and he didn't seem the type to exaggerate for the sake of scaring people off. Sugi was pretty sure he'd be as honest with them as he could be.
The tension around the table was getting itchy. Sugi back against the soft cushioning with a grin, folded one leg over the other, and raised her half-empty bottle. "To allies, then."
Coruscant
Maul stalked the corridors of his Master's stronghold, following the summons to the throne room. Confinement had long since become a twitchy vibration beneath his skin; a blessing during his long and frustrating recovery, it had become part punishment for his failure on Naboo. It had been years - literal Standard years - since he had seen a sky or breathed unfiltered air.
The acolytes on either side of the door - masked and faceless, new sentients his Master had collected and would likely break and discard within the year - allowed him to pass unquestioned. Caliiga had once been such a masked neophyte; the first time Maul had encountered her, he had stopped and observed, feeling her real potential, and had known she would survive past the initial training.
His Master had the holocomm active, and the blue-tinted image of Caliiga in her full armour was in the midst of giving her report. Maul passed in a wide circle to avoid the pickups and moved to his customary position behind Lord Sidious' left shoulder.
"-The operatives here claim they were invaded by a small army, but what Tuuz was able to pull from their database suggests a minimal force of possibly as few as two people. Highly trained and effective people, I might add. The body count is astonishing."
Lord Sidious's pallid hands were clenched into fists where they rested on the spread arms of his throne, but he otherwise gave no indication of his mood. "You claim Davine simply… left their detention cells."
"He employed an advanced Sith technique to destroy his restraints, murdered Grunseit's chief enforcer and several others who attempted to stop him - with nothing but his empty hands, I might add - and at some point joined up with the invading force. They departed together, but the system lost track of them at the speeder dock."
Lord Sidious seethed silently for a moment; Caliiga waited patiently, almost unmoving.
"Were you able to recover the interrogation logs?"
"No, my Lord. The detention level system had been spiked, and the logs were not backed up anywhere else."
Maul studied their Lord from the corner of his eye. The matter of Davine and his hidden Master had proven a costly distraction for Lord Sidious; more so now that his chosen leader for Black Sun had been killed. Control of the immense cartel had been a key strategic point in Lord Sidious' plans.
It didn't escape Maul that if their Lord hadn't commanded Grunseit to capture Davine, the Falleen crime lord would likely still be alive. That knowledge must burn Lord Sidious to his core.
"Dispose of the lackeys who failed to contain Davine and then return to Coruscant."
"As you command, my Lord." Caliiga bowed closed the connection.
Lord Sidious was silent for a long moment. "Maul."
Maul knelt where he stood. "What is your command, my Lord?"
The rustle of Lord Sidious' robes was more felt than heard as the Sith Lord stood to pace. "It appears our hidden rival is more capable than I gave him credit for. You will require assistance."
That rankled, and Maul couldn't help bristling at the implication. He had long since fully recovered his strength and powers following his near death at the hands of the Jedi. "My Lord-"
"Do not question me, Acolyte," Sidious hissed. "You could not manage two unprepared Jedi. There is a powerful Force user who owes me a debt. You will go to Dathomir, speak to Mother Talzin, and command her to fulfill her end of our bargain."
It was vague enough that Maul hesitated. "What should I expect of this person?"
His Master's lips peeled back in a grimace. "No doubt she will know why you are there before you tell her. She will know what to give you, or she will die."
Tucking his chin to his chest, Maul murmured, "It will be done, my Lord."
Reformation Year 981.03.12
Outland Transit Station
Hey, it's me. I can't tell you how happy I was to see you alive. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Just letting you know I got out, finally. Been a rough five years but this whole fiasco gave me an opportunity. Do I owe your boss one for that? Anyway, take care of yourself, looks like you have a solid crew watching your back.
- M
Phel set the datapad down and blinked, surprised at the tears on xir cheeks. Myles was alright; Myles remembered xir. And was sharp enough to find xir private comm code, which was a good sign. He'd be able to stay off Black Sun's scanners. The message had come in under a different ID belonging to 'Torryn Jennaen', and Phel had nearly discarded it as one of the usual run of garbage messages, except the subject line had been a very particular word: Phel's original name, discarded years ago when xir relationship with gender had become uncomfortable. There was only one person who knew that name.
Sniffing a little, xe wiped at xir eyes. The subject of names reminded xir of something xe had been pondering a while earlier: Zohli's name was a matter of public record. The last thing they needed was her birth family hearing that she was out running around with a mercenary crew.
Making xir way out to the lounge of the apartment Bastra had rented from Roz - a space somewhat less swish than Fett's and not as far off the Market District, but large enough for all of them to have their own room - Phel tapped Kate's dome. "Got a minute to help me with something?"
#Something related to the mail you received?#
"Kind of." Phel dropped into a seat at the table and pulled a piece of xir and Bastra's shared slicing kit from underneath the bench. Xe wasn't certain how keenly Zoh's birth parents might be looking for her but it was better to play it safe. "Get your scrambler running. We're looking to see if anyone is searching for Zoh."
Kate mooped with concern. #You believe it's a risk?#
"I'd rather make sure it isn't than make assumptions. The last thing we need is Zygerrian hunters interrupting one of our jobs."
#Terms?#
"Uhhh…" Phel plugged the home-built blindbox into the hardline HoloNet socket in the wall, then ran the secondary cable to the port Kate helpfully supplied and switched it on. "Zohli, Zygerrian. Um. Teenage, female." Running a search via droid was less convenient than using a datapad or terminal, but much, much harder to track. "Red hair, pale." Roz's HoloNet uplink already had a great scrambling package, but with the blindbox between Kate and the hardline, the keywords would be reduced to binary and wouldn't - hopefully - set off any alerts. "Green eyes."
#There are four hundred eighty-three individuals of that name, species and gender, with two-hundred fifteen matching that description in current HoloNet population archives; and two hundred sixty-six thousand five hundred and twelve individuals in Zygerrian historical files,# Kate announced with a tone of relief. #The historical Zygerrian female 'Zohli Zimaata Tiatanni' was a particularly famous figure dating to six thousand four hundred fifty-two Standard years ago.#
"Seriously?" Phel peered at the readout Kate sent to xir datapad. "What was she known for?"
Tiatanni had, apparently, been the first Empress of the Zygerrian Empire and the first ruler to open Zygerria to outside trade- "With the Sith Empire. Fantastic," xe muttered sourly. "No wonder they got into slavery." The culture had historically thrived on a structure of indentured servitude, but Tiatanni had charged full-speed into selling impoverished or indebted citizens to the Empire. What lovely people. "Looks like Zoh's safe, but maybe she'll want to change her name on principle."
#Is that important?#
Phel shrugged. "Sentients change our designators for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes our parents named us in a way that doesn't suit us. Maybe we just don't like the name or it brings bad memories. Or we were named for, you know, a horrible person."
When the first couple attempts to reach Bastra went unanswered, xe commed Feid, who was down at the hangar and getting Ohnaka's ships prepped to return to Florrum. The medics had been adamant about Bastra staying a bit longer for observation, so it was just going to be Phel, Kate, Feid, and Pulkka traveling back to retrieve the Veeka and the Sunflare.
"Hey."
"Where's Bastra?"
Xe could practically hear Feid's eyeroll. "The kids were going stir-crazy so he and Fett took them to the gym to burn off steam."
Phel blinked at the comm. "There's a gym in this place?"
"Yeah, level twelve, section E-2."
Phel's only experience with 'gyms' was limited to what they'd seen at the Temple on Jedha and the small training spaces Bastra had set up on the Veeka and the Sunflare. Whatever xe had expected, the vast hall full of what looked like torture equipment was not it. It took xir a while to find the others: Fett was halfway up an artificial stone wall without so much as a rope, coaching Zohli through a course made of brightly coloured fake rocks, while Bastra was kneeling on the floor holding pads for little Boba to hit. All four of them were dressed in close-fitting workout gear; Zoh and Fett were wearing boots while Bastra and Boba were barefoot on the mats.
Phel stopped and watched for a moment. "Isn't he a little young for that?"
Bastra didn't turn - he'd probably noticed Phel arriving. "I started when I was three."
"No offense, but there's nothing normal about how you were raised."
"There's no such thing as normal. It's entirely subjective. Normal for the average Coruscant citizen is not the same thing as normal for a Mandalorian fighter. Or a Jedi." He twitched a grin as he made Boba duck a careful swipe of his arm. "Jango wants to raise Boba as Mandalorian? Well, this is normal."
"Riiiiight. Well, speaking of normal, I checked to make certain Zoh's family isn't looking for her. Turns out her name is super common, and unless they get really specific, nobody will ever find her."
Bastra spared a glance. "What's with the personal visit, then?"
"She's named for a nasty Zygerrian queen. I dunno if she's aware of that or not." Xe shifted from one foot to the other as Bastra lowered his hands, signaling a pause for Boba, and frowned up at xir. "If she wants to change it, we're in a good place for that."
"Zoh?" Bastra called. Somehow he managed to raise his voice without yelling.
Well up the wall - too far, in Phel's opinion, but at least she was wearing a climbing harness wired to a rig in the ceiling - Zoh peered down from under her arm. "Yes, At'tha?"
"Do you know who your namesake is?"
She scrunched her face up and mimed spitting in disgust, a gesture Phel wished she hadn't picked up from Nym. "Yeah. Ancient Zygerrian history is a highlight in school. Popular name."
Bastra nodded as if he'd expected as much. "Do you want to change it?"
Phel chanced a glance at Fett; the other bounty hunter was hanging casually by his toes and one hand as he watched the exchange.
Zoh took a moment to consider it. "I don't think so. Not now, anyway. I like the idea of giving the name a better legacy."
It sounded like a weird reason - six thousand years was a lot of history to compete with - but she also sounded pretty firm about it. Phel shrugged and said, "Your call, anyway."
Xe staggered as Boba hugged xir around the knees and leaned hard into xir leg. "Oh! Oh no, I've been caught!" Phel let xirself topple over, careful not to land on the kid. Boba started giggling and tried to sit on Phel's stomach. "What are you gonna do now that you got me?"
The four year old couldn't stop laughing enough to say anything and Phel wrapped xir much longer arms around him. "Guess it's tickle time!"
"No!" Boba shrieked through the giggles, making absolutely no attempt to get away.
"No?" Phel paused and raised an eyebrow at him.
"Tickles!" the boy demanded. Phel grinned.
"Your funeral, kiddo."
Reformation Year 981.03.13
Outland Transit Station
Spirits didn't meditate. Not really, not the same way living people did. But they could still draw inward on themselves to consider things. Ulic had spent a good portion of the past week sifting through the thoughts and information he'd collected on Coruscant.
He wasn't particularly happy about his conclusions.
Phel had handed his crystal back to Obi-Wan at the first opportunity, but things had still been hectic - and crowded - with Ohnaka's crew and various other acquaintances filtering in and out constantly. It hadn't been convenient for sitting down and discussing the heavier issues.
But the others had gone off to retrieve their ships, leaving Obi-Wan, Zohli, and Deesix behind. The droid claimed it needed time to re-compartmentalise its primary and secondary memory banks, but seemed more interested in just making certain Zohli and Obi-Wan were alright. It was rather sweet.
Fett's kid had spontaneously fallen asleep after lunch, just as Zohli had been asking Fett for another climbing lesson; Obi-Wan had volunteered to remain behind at Fett's apartment to keep an eye on the little one. Ulic had hoped for a bit more privacy, but it really couldn't be helped. He waited until he was certain Fett wasn't going to forget something and return before making himself visible sitting on the coffee table.
"We need to talk."
Obi-Wan flicked a glance up from his datapad. "I was wondering when you'd say something. Give me a moment to wrap this up."
He set the 'pad down a moment later and pulled his legs in to sit in a half-lotus on the couch, mirroring Ulic's pose. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried."
Ulic gave him a tight smile; the Shadow that had been present the last few years within his friend had grown much more pronounced. "Describe what happened."
Frowning, Obi-Wan looked at his hands folded in his lap. That was fine: eye contact wasn't necessary. "Moj ordered them to capture Zohli."
"I heard that part."
Obi-Wan nodded. "After he ended the call, he suggested that he would have me watch them… work." He choked on the last word and the Shadow stirred. "I don't remember much of what happened after that, until I recognised Jango. I remember killing Moj…." A flicker of amber fire lit the depths of his eyes but vanished just as quickly. "I must have killed the guards beyond the door… and a squad. Maybe two. I don't remember when I got a blaster, there would surely have been more available, but with only one hand working, I would have had to leave the rest." He flexed his right hand, massaging the muscle of his palm beneath the knuckles with his left thumb. "I lost control, Ulic. If I hadn't recognised Jango, I likely would have killed him, too."
Ulic's eyes narrowed. "You think so?"
Obi-Wan looked up at him with a questioning expression and Ulic leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Moj triggered that protective rage of yours by threatening your daughter. It worked to your benefit because he thought he was dealing with the sort of callous cartel asshole Black Sun usually hires. You would have been restrained, right? How'd you get free?"
The look on Obi-Wan's face shifted to one of awe and possibly a little confusion. "I… don't know, actually. The cuffs were in the way, connected to the table, so I sort of… willed them to fall apart. At the base molecular level."
Ulic blinked in surprise, then nodded; it confirmed what he'd already suspected. "You could as easily have just snapped the chain, you know. Destroyed the table. Set Moj on fire. All knee-jerk responses which require a lot less fine control than what you chose to do. And then you had enough presence of mind to look for the exit."
"I-"
"Remember what you said? If you'd been less in control, you would have simply killed Jango where he stood and kept going. You recognised a friend, someone you valued. But a Sith in an uncontrolled rage can be an unreasoning monster, Obi-Wan. Allies, enemies, it doesn't matter. We can so easily unleash on the people we love. Our partners." He smiled ruefully. "Or our brothers. It was that protective rage we spoke about. Remember? It's a very useful tool, although if someone figures out they can use it to get to you, it can be used against you easily. But you were in complete control the whole time."
"Then why can't I remember most of it?" The lack of memory seemed to upset him more than what he had actually done.
Ulic grinned. "Well, that would be the trauma. The human brain can choose to lock away things it feels are too traumatic to keep within easy access; sometimes it crafts an alternate personality to contain the mess, particularly if the trauma is repeated, sustained, and happens while the brain is still developing. You're twenty-five Standard, so you probably don't have to worry so much about that, at least. It might be a good idea for you to unlock and deal with those memories eventually. Not now," he added quickly. "Later. Get yourself back to something close to settled, first. Your brain might even unlock on its own, which is the best scenario."
Obi-Wan frowned. "I'm not a fan of my head randomly choosing to unearth skeletons unbidden."
"Nah, it sucks, puts you in a bad mood for the rest of the day. But that means that part of your brain is healing. Like removing stitches." Ulic held out his right hand and Obi-Wan reached out with his left easily, expressing complete trust in whatever Ulic was about to do. Possibly also confidence that he could handle it, which he very likely could. Ulic rested his palm lightly against Obi-Wan's - not quite firmly enough to start passing through - and focused on the young man's Force signature.
When Ulic had been compromised by the Dark Side, by the Krath's fucking poison, his own signature had been riddled with fissures, like the surface of active lava, the stress of the rage beneath fracturing the surface and barely contained. It had been painful, and that pain had only fuelled the rage, driving him forward in search of any target to turn it against, in hopes of some relief from the constant pressure.
What he found in Obi-Wan was something almost serene. Nothing was broken or fragmented; it was stable and even calm despite the Darkness wrapped around the glowing core. He brushed against it lightly and it pressed back, playful but warning.
Obi-Wan laughed softly. "I felt that."
Ulic withdrew and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well. I can tell you two things. Firstly, you are not at risk of having my problems. It's like the Darkness is protecting your Light, and… okay, that can also be a problem if it gets too protective, but you're not going to destroy your mind."
"Well, that's a relief. What's the second thing?"
He didn't bother trying to hide his grin. "I bet you can access those memories Nadd locked away two years ago, now. We can test that, if you want." He hesitated, then added, "Not too much later, though. You should prioritise those people you rescued, but when we get a chance, would you mind taking me to Rhen Var?"
Obi-Wan tilted his head. "What brought this on, now?"
Ulic sighed and propped his chin on his fist. "That fucking crystal. I've gone four thousand years not caring where it ends up, but-" He bit his lip and glanced away. "There's something I give a shit about now, and the risk of being lost or taken away is just… infuriating. I'm literally helpless if that happens and I can't reach you or the others." He glanced back with a glare, mentally pleading for Obi-Wan to not say anything sappy or sympathetic. He wasn't sure he could handle that right now.
Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow. "Even if your Lighter half might want to destroy you?"
"He won't." Ulic hated to admit it, but he needed his other half. "He can't. He might refuse to help, but that's the worst thing he could do to me. We're like charged ions: if he tries to affect me in any way via the Force, we'll end up recombining. Better to do that willingly, right?"
"Or not at all," Obi-Wan agreed. "Alright, once we deal with Mandalore-"
"How'd they take that suggestion, anyway?" Ulic had been focusing on himself when Obi-Wan had tentatively presented the idea of a farm on a safe world to the rescued slaves.
"Well. Most liked the idea of building something for themselves, some want to go to school and learn a trade properly first. The legal representatives were a little taken aback at the idea of Mandalore," Obi-Wan said with a grin, "but that's just one of several possibilities, if it doesn't pan out."
"You don't think it will?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "Jango's word carries weight, but I still need to talk to the community. If they dislike the idea, there are a few other options to try, including talking to Senator Organa about setting something up on Alderaan."
Ulic grimaced and rocked his hand in the air. "I'm from Alderaan. Even back in my day, most of the arable land was tenanted. I can't imagine the population has thinned since then."
"There are still other options," Obi-Wan insisted.
It was sweet how he'd latched onto the idea of being the protector of a colony for a group of freed slaves. Was it a sense of responsibility for them, guilt at having his hand forced by Nirru the Hutt, or desire to protect people who were important to someone he knew? The reasons didn't really matter when the end result was that Obi-Wan was volunteering to manage the well-being of over a hundred people without any sense of doubt or uncertainty in taking that responsibility. It was a good sign.
That left Ulic the task of making sure his friend was prepared to handle the Darkness he was tapping into.
"Well, since we have this space to ourselves for a bit…" Ulic grinned. "Feel like prodding that durasteel trap in your memory?"
"As long as you can make certain I don't get lost if it throws me back out," Obi-Wan said. He arched a brow at Ulic in playful challenge.
It was so easy to slip into Obi-Wan's mind now; they recognised each other on an instinctive level. Ulic found himself standing with Obi-Wan in that odd walled garden he'd glimpsed before.
Green plants of some indefinable variety grew in neatly ordered rows; for brief moments Ulic thought he might recognise them before deciding that he didn't. Around the verges and spreading up the walls, dark tendrils of something like ivy crept; threads of it trailed along the rows and twined gently with the greenery.
Obi-Wan knelt and held out his hand; both green plants and dark vines seemed to shift towards his touch, brushing his palm and coiling almost fondly around his fingers.
"An interesting way to envision your mental state," Ulic observed.
"What does yours resemble?"
"Endless corridors lined with doors of all types." Whenever he bothered to delve that deep, many of the doors refused to open, inaccessible to his present state of existence. Ulic folded his arms, keeping his own hands beyond reach of the plants, and watched as Obi-Wan wandered the space.
"There are more vines than there were before. They were mostly around the edges. Now they're everywhere." Obi-Wan frowned and knelt beside a particularly lush plant, running his fingers along the vine curled around its stem. "I'm going to have to keep an eye on this. They're coexisting for now, but I don't want the vines to start choking the plants out." He tugged gently at the vine and it loosened willingly. "These kinds of systems can work in nature, but sometimes the vines are parasitic and drain the plants they live with."
"It's a good analogy." Ulic tilted his head. "How do you organise anything here, though?"
The grin that crossed Obi-Wan's face was pure mischief. He tugged lightly at a leaf and the plant - green and dark together - expanded until it formed a sort of doorway. "I have a system."
"Does that go anywhere?"
Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at the pool of utter blackness in the circle of leaves. "It does, but whether it will kick me out again remains to be seen." He reached forward and pressed his palm into the nothingness; his hand sank through, slowly, like pressing through gel. Obi-Wan's face pinched as he focused, and as Ulic watched, more vines spread around the portal, the darkness of the plants leeching into it. "Got it!"
The pool of blackness expanded with shocking suddenness and the environment around them shifted, becoming the temple courtyard on Dxun. Kate and the Nautolan Jedi Master, Kerr, appeared beside Obi-Wan, who barely caught him as he collapsed bonelessly.
Eyes up, kid, Ulic's memory-self whispered. We got his attention.
"Wonderful," Obi-Wan muttered.
It felt exceedingly odd to be a part of Obi-Wan's recollection as Obi-Wan and see himself as a separate part of it. Ulic expended a little effort to connect his memory of the event with Obi-Wan's and slipped into the position of his past self, seeking any details he might have missed before.
The mist had thickened ominously, and a vague form walked out of the shadows clustered at the entrance to the pyramid, gaining more distinct outlines as it approached. By the time it stopped a couple meters away, it was clearly a human man dressed in armour, wearing a displeased expression as he eyed Obi-Wan.
"Who do you think you are? You reek of the Light."
Memory-Ulic suppressed a laugh at the comment as Obi-Wan bowed and held it. Beside him, Kate hummed softly in robotic confusion but otherwise didn't interrupt the moment.
"Lord Nadd. I come to you seeking wisdom."
The spirit was silent for a long moment, studying first Obi-Wan and then the place where Ulic lingered, invisible. "How interesting. You bring with you one I know. Speak up!"
Ulic's made himself visible and offered the shorter bow of one Lord to another. Technically Nadd was higher in the pecking order, but it was foolish to make oneself vulnerable even out of respect. "It's been a long time, my Lord. I feared you might have departed."
The other spirit scoffed. "I bound my spirit to my relics deliberately, Qel-Droma. Thousands died for it. I would not waste that effort. What does a failure like you have to say for yourself?"
Failure. Yeah, that stung. Ulic sneered. "As I recall, you were the one who declared that the future of the Sith lay with me. Bet you feel pretty foolish, huh?"
Nadd's eyes narrowed to gleaming slits for a long, tense moment before he laughed, harsh and humourless. "Such is the way of the Force. Who is this boy to you?"
"He is my student...and my friend."
Nadd hissed with disdain as Obi-Wan straightened. "Friends can betray you."
"As can students, allies, and lovers," Ulic countered. So much betrayal. It was a miracle the Sith Empire had even got off the ground, let alone launched and sustained momentum for thousands of years. At least, until the ultimate in backstabbings had occurred at Ruusan. "The Jedi of this era eschew emotional attachments as much as your kind once did," he added, knowing Nadd would appreciate it.
Nadd's delight felt like being flayed by a million shards of frozen glass. "How ironic. I should like to hear more of this, but you came here with a purpose."
Ulic nodded to Obi-Wan, who tugged the cord bearing Ulic's crystal from inside his shirt. Nadd squinted hard at the crystal and then tilted his head at Ulic.
"I'm not certain whether you are admirable or pitiable."
Ulic gritted his teeth in something that wasn't quite a smile. "A little from column A, a little from column B?" There was nothing wrong with being bound to one's former lightsaber crystal - succeeding in the moment of death was a challenge worthy of respect, in fact. But on the level of the Force he and Nadd occupied, the damage to the crystal's energy - to Ulic, himself - was like a raw wound, bleeding actively into the Force around it.
Nadd folded his arms, contemplating the mess. "What happened?"
Ulic shrugged carelessly. "The Jedi happened, as they do. I wish to be free of this binding, yet remain."
The older spirit hummed thoughtfully, vibrating the ground and columns around them like a minor tremor. "And you, little hunter. Are you aware of what it is you carry so close to yourself?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "I am, my Lord. We were told his wish could be fulfilled, but that the crystal would need to be repaired at its origin first. There are so many things that could refer to."
The other spirit clasped his hands behind his back and regarded them cautiously. "You're not going to like what I have to tell you."
Of course they wouldn't. None of this so far had been good news. Ulic pressed his lips together tightly and sighed. Best rip the bacta patch off now: delaying wouldn't reduce the unpleasantness any. "Nevertheless, we need to hear it."
"To repair the crystal, you must go to where its soul was sundered. However, repairing that would destroy you." He grinned mockingly at Ulic. "I assume you were not told of this."
Sometimes Ancient Sith had the most appropriate curses. Ulic spat a few words that sizzled as they crossed his lips; somewhere on Jedha, a monk tripped as the curse did its job. "Of course they would misunderstand and assume he wished to be rid of me."
"A good thing you came to me first, then, no? You are the broken part which must be repaired, a fragment sheared from a whole which has not yet joined the Force." The ancient Sith shook his head. "As you are, you do not have the strength to linger unbound. What you seek is possible, in theory, but it would require re-joining you to the larger whole."
"Which is entirely Light, and might happily destroy him," Obi-Wan murmured. "Well, that's less than ideal."
That was likely an exaggeration, but Ulic's better half would be difficult to convince. Ulic sighed. "Is there no other way?"
"Possibly, but it would still require the cooperation of your weaker side," Nadd sneered. "Sith bind ourselves to our relics and tombs for a very good reason."
"Is the risk of a relic being lost truly worth it?" Obi-Wan asked.
"A Sith relic cannot be truly lost while the spirit within retains consciousness. There are always weak-minded tools who can be drawn into service," Nadd said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Why such an intense desire for freedom, Qel-Droma? A free-roaming Jedi spirit is not unheard of, but the same state is nearly impossible for the Sith. It's a grave risk you take."
Ulic exchanged a glance with Obi-Wan, feeling the young man's present self recognise that this was the part of the conversation that had been hidden. Obi-Wan's memory-self nodded for Ulic to explain.
"Bane's line has resurfaced. They tipped their hand, and we know the Apprentice and have the name of the Master."
That got Nadd's attention. Ulic would have been outright shocked if Nadd had any sympathies for that particular line. They had all felt the silence settle within the Dark Side on the day of the Sith genocide. Bane's philosophy was wholly incorrect and he had eradicated Nadd's entire people because of it.
"Now I understand, Qel-Droma." The Sith Lord turned away from them, the intensity of his thoughts almost tangible. "Give me the names."
"What do you intend to do with them?" Obi-Wan asked. Ulic could appreciate his caution: a Sith Lord with access to enough binding items could use a spirit like their own personal Force battery. The last thing they needed was Sidious getting ideas about using Nadd.
"One does not preserve oneself upon death in order to rest, little hunter. If you stand against the line of Bane, then our enemy is the same." He glanced over his shoulder, his expression mocking. "Does a fallen Jedi have trouble with that concept?"
Obi-Wan merely tilted his head and said, "He calls himself Sidious. His apprentice is a former Jedi Master who now calls himself Tyranus." He hesitated, then added, "Tyranus was my Master's Master."
"Ahh. Then the matter has a personal cost."
"He was kind to me. He wanted to train me." Obi-Wan's expression turned grim. "His new Master would have forced him to hand me over." He glanced at Ulic, who nodded.
"Tyranus became aware of my presence, if not my identity. He advised me to tell Obi-Wan, here, to leave. It was possibly the only way Tyranus could have warned him without Sidious knowing."
"The Apprentice already struggles against the Master's chains." Nadd huffed an annoyed sigh. "The tradition-" the word came out flavoured heavily with disdain- "of killing one's master was borne only by a few lines in my day. A self-destructive and reductionist philosophy."
They watched as he paced, his attention for the moment elsewhere. Very much elsewhere: Ulic could sense the ancient Sith Lord communicating with some unknowable others beyond his own ability to sense. Eventually Nadd turned on his heel and stalked towards them, stopping in Obi-Wan's space; had it not been for the lack of any sort of malice, Ulic might have moved between them.
Nadd reached forward and cupped his hand around Obi-Wan's jaw; the young man's breath caught and he shivered at the touch. It couldn't have felt much more pleasant than touching Ulic in his current form.
"I'm going to give you something, little hunter, but it is something for which you are not yet ready."
Obi-Wan seemed transfixed by Nadd's glowing gaze, but he managed, "Can I at least know what it is?"
A smirk curled Nadd's mouth and he released Obi-Wan, taking a step back. "Skills. Skills which you are not, at this time, capable of learning or exercising. I can plant the knowledge within your mind, lock it away securely, and it will become accessible when you are ready."
Ulic scoffed. "And how will he even know to work towards unlocking it if you make him forget it's there?"
The smirk disappeared and Nadd glared at them both. "You can tell him, can't you? This knowledge is not for those who refuse to delve the Dark Side. Quite simply, the mere act of practicing requires it. If he never again touches the Dark Side, if he shies away from its beauty, he will never risk unlocking the memory."
Obi-Wan was studying the Sith Lord carefully. "What are you offering, exactly?"
"Your opponent is skilled in the ways of Sith sorcery, passed down in an unbroken line from Bane. Even if you choose not to follow their example, knowledge of their skills will be essential if you wish to oppose them." Nadd studied Obi-Wan for a moment before glancing at Ulic. "I have no wish to deride your power-"
"Yeah, right," Ulic snorted.
Nadd's nasty little smile returned. "Sorcery is not part of your skillset. You came to the Dark Side a fallen Jedi rather than a Sith trained from childhood. This is not a lesson you might offer your young student."
Ulic shrugged. "I can't dispute that."
The Sith Lord turned back to Obi-Wan, who was looking pensive.
"Is there something particular to sorcery that makes it different from my previous training?"
Nadd gave him an incredulous stare. "Everything. It is the purest expression of the Dark Side, derived from traditions of the earliest Sith priesthood. Your Jedi expended tremendous effort over thousands of years to eradicate its practise. Now there is only one with true training, although he is passing on what he knows to his Apprentice and possibly his acolytes. And even then, much has been lost to time - or because a practitioner of Bane's line lacked the discipline to harness the finer aspects. Sidious wields sorcery like a sprinkling of poison in a wineglass, in wits and words. And when wits fail, he wields it like a battering ram. There is no moderation."
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know a great deal about Sidious all of a sudden."
"Death is no barrier to the Sith." Baring his teeth in a disgusted snarl, Nadd said, "The line of Bane learned well the lessons in concealing their true identities: only their apprentice and closest acolytes may know the truth. With patience and guile you may come to know the face of your enemy, but you must be cautious. Sith sorcery is powerful, yes, but it's the poisoned chalice you must be more wary of. The battering ram is obvious, and can be met force for force, but the poison cannot be seen, smelled, or tasted. You must build your immunity before attempting it."
"You know who he is."
Ulic couldn't blame Obi-Wan for being angry - he'd spent years trying to track Sidious down the hard way. The glare the young man shot him said he'd also figured out what Ulic knew. What Ulic had refused to say. It was very difficult to conceal information from beings that could walk through walls, after all.
Some things were too dangerous to know too soon.
Nadd shrugged, unaffected by Obi-Wan's quiet outrage. "I know one who knows. You are not ready for that confrontation; you are not even ready to choose whom to trust with this deadly secret." The spirit's smile was chilling. "I have given you the knowledge of focusing exercises, the ones Sith in my day learned as children. When you have mastered the focus, seek out the holocron of Darth Occlus. It's one of the rare few that has not ended up in the hands of Bane's line. You must find it for yourself," he added when Obi-Wan opened his mouth, likely to ask where it was. "I don't have that knowledge. Occlus was reclusive and chose not to bind himself to any other relics. Apply yourself, little hunter. Do some research."
Ulic could feel what Nadd was doing, drawing on the Force and binding it around Obi-Wan's memory. The young man shuddered and blinked as the past few minutes disappeared from his recollection, along with the anger at being openly lied to.
With an idle wave of his hand, Nadd dismissed them both. "You have your answer. Leave. And take that with you; he is far too inquisitive for my liking."
Obi-Wan bowed politely before kneeling to collect the unconscious Jedi Master and pull him over his shoulder in a rescue carry.
"Oh, and Qel-Droma?"
Obi-Wan and Ulic turned.
"I mocked you for your previous failure, and you mocked my incorrect foresight. Yet...here you are with a corrupted Jedi, training him as a student." The Sith Lord smirked at Ulic. "Not all prophecies have a time limit. Something to consider."
The memory faded, and Ulic braced himself as he returned to full awareness. Obi-Wan was upset, as expected, but he was taking the remainder of his meditation to explore the information Nadd had placed in his mind. As he watched, the barrier around Obi-Wan's mind - already fairly strong after a lifetime of training - locked down tighter than a Muunilinst vault. Obi-Wan's eyes blinked open dazedly and he took a breath as if tasting the air for the first time.
"Oh."
Then he glared at Ulic. "I'm still angry with you."
Ulic held up his hands. "I expected you to be."
A little smile tugged Obi-Wan's cheek. "But if I wasn't angry with you and Nadd for deliberately keeping me in the dark, I wouldn't have been able to use that technique he gave me. I need to work on it more, of course. But I think I understand why you wouldn't tell me who Sidious is." He sobered. "There's only one person so powerful that you wouldn't want to risk me telling a Jedi about him. And that is… a terrifying thought. It explains a great deal, and it's terrifying."
Ulic propped his elbows on his knees and sighed. "Yeah, tell me about it-"
"Who the fuck are you?"
Obi-Wan and Ulic both looked over quickly to see Fett standing in the entrance hall glaring at them with a blaster aimed at Ulic, a slightly dishevelled Zohli peeking around the protective arm he'd put out in front of her.
"Hi, Ulic!"
"Hey, kiddo." Ulic looked at Obi-Wan, trying very hard to maintain a straight face with an angry bounty hunter spluttering at them. "How do you want to handle this?"
Zoh ducked under Fett's arm and came over to give Obi-Wan a slightly sweaty hug that streaked his shirt with chalk from her hands. Fett followed reluctantly.
"You know how I feel about people I don't know being here with Boba."
There was probably a lot more to it than that, including matters of personal privacy and Obi-Wan not having asked permission to have an apparent guest. The younger man grimaced. "Technically he's been here before."
"Technically," Ulic agreed. "But it doesn't count if he didn't know about it." He held a hand out to Fett. "I'm Ulic. Technically also crew on the Sunflare. I'm also dead," he supplied helpfully as Fett cursed at the unpleasant feel of trying to shake hands with a Sith spirit.
"You're what?"
"Dead. Deceased. Lacking physical form for over four thousand years. It's quite the experience."
Zohli pulled a face at him. "Don't be obnoxious."
Ulic grinned at her. "It really is too much fun, though."
She rolled her eyes and kissed her dad on the cheek. "Going back to our place to shower the chalk off. Have fun, At'tha!"
Fett prodded at Ulic's shoulder with the blaster in his left hand, the barrel sinking through Ulic's form as if it were nothing but air. It wasn't particularly comfortable for him, but he could accept the bounty hunter's right to be rude in exchange for two unpleasant shocks in a row. "Ulic. As in Qel-Droma."
The man knew his history alright. Ulic grimaced and stood from his position on the coffee table - his feet passing clear through it and making Fett twitch again - and shifted back onto one of the chairs. "That's right."
"You defeated Mandalore the Indomitable."
"That was a long time ago. Looking for a rematch?"
Fett snorted and finally sat. "I don't have to prove myself to you."
"No, you don't," Ulic agreed. "And it's not much fun to fight someone you can't really hit anyway."
Casting a sidelong look at Obi-Wan, Fett asked, "Where'd you find this guy?"
The bland look on Obi-Wan's face was all the warning Ulic got. "Dooku's private vault of Sith artifacts."
The other man's face went terrifyingly still, and for a moment Ulic was actually concerned for Obi-Wan's safety. "Sith artifacts. Dooku."
Obi-Wan bobbed his head easily. "He has quite a collection." He twitched a grin. "I might have relieved him of a few pieces."
Fett stared at him for a heartstopping moment before surging to his feet, pacing the open space with agitation rolling off him in waves. "You're telling me that fucker - Tyranus, whatever he's calling himself now - is also involved with the Sith."
It was incredibly difficult not to laugh; Ulic bit the inside of his lip. "The name change didn't clue you in?"
Fett glared at Ulic and then looked away. "It explains a few things," he muttered. Obi-Wan was giving him a fascinated stare, but they both knew Fett wouldn't talk about whatever had brought him and Dooku into contact, particularly after Galidraan. The man sighed and returned, falling back into the seat he'd vacated, and asked, "So what's keeping you hanging around?"
"You're handling this whole spirit thing a lot better than I expected," Ulic said with a laugh.
Fett shrugged. "I can try to deny the fact that touching you is like trying to handle cold pond scum-"
"Told you," Obi-Wan teased.
"Yeah, yeah."
The Mandalorian made a visible attempt against a smile. "Or I can suck it up, admit that spending time around a former Jedi is just going to make my life weird, and move on. Well?"
Ulic sighed. "An accident, for the most part."
"You didn't try to, uh. Move on?"
"Sure I did, but I can't." Ulic gestured to Obi-Wan. "That's one of the reasons I started talking to him. One of several. And the main reason why I needed to talk to him now. Uh, sorry for intruding on your space."
Fett was squinting at him, while Obi-Wan just looked amused. Eventually the Mandalorian shook his head. "Okay, whatever. Just leave my kid alone."
Ulic blinked; he'd expected more questions, maybe a few threats. Fett seemed to genuinely not care about anything related to Ulic - as well as being sharp enough to recognise that he would never be able to follow through on a threat anyway.
Unless he decided to hurt Obi-Wan; it was what a Sith might do. But Fett wasn't Sith, and he seemed to be getting over his initial dislike of Obi-Wan rather quickly. The spirit really wanted to know what had passed between the two of them.
Holding his hands up in capitulation, Ulic said, "He has no idea I exist, and I can keep it that way."
"Great. Please make yourself scarce before he wakes up."
Ulic had, in fact, been keeping half an eye on Boba's sense in the room down the hall; the kid was awake but drowsy and hadn't yet registered the sound of his father's voice. "He'll probably be up soon, actually." He arched an eyebrow at Obi-Wan. "We can discuss that other stuff later."
Obi-Wan aimed an accusing finger at Ulic. "Still angry with you." His tone was mild, but he was also quite serious.
Ulic shrugged. "Yep. Behave yourselves, kids."
Reformation Year 981.03.14
Coruscant
The mess with Ebor had been considerably more high-profile than she'd anticipated; it had taken the better part of a week to clear things up, and then there had been the trouble of tendering her resignation.
That part, at least, had been easy to explain. The lapse in security which had permitted Black Sun to get in had been, nominally, her fault. Ki'paran still felt a twinge of guilt at having allowed Black Sun's spy to slip through her clearing process. But his background had checked out, just dirty enough to be unexceptional. Someone had gone to a lot of effort to craft the dancer's file, even getting recommendations from supposed former employers. If it hadn't been for her own private sources, she would never have questioned letting the guy in.
But that hadn't been part of her job. So she'd let it slide, and people had gotten hurt.
Now she slumped at a table in a down-stack tapcafe, waiting for her contact to show up. It wasn't a bad place, a little seedy but clean, and none of the patrons gave her more than a passing glance.
"Someone told me you're looking for work."
Ki'paran glanced up at the Weequay woman and arched a brow carefully. The other woman was dressed slightly nicer than her in something that could be mistaken for a business suit, if you ignored the fact that it had been crafted from armourweave and the decorative panels in her jacket contained armoured plates. "Sure, but depends who told you that."
"Naseen."
Ki'paran gestured to the seat opposite her. "Then we might have something to discuss."
The woman set her drink on the table, sat down, and touched something in her pocket. Ki'paran clenched her teeth as the privacy field activated; it always vibrated painfully in her ears until it peaked. "Where shall we start?"
"Let's start with Ebor. What happened?"
Ki'paran wished she had some of her drink left to throw back. "The conclusive evidence is that Ziro was trying to encourage Ebor to abdicate, but it really wasn't working. Near as we can figure, Ziro wanted to get in good with Black Sun by taking over Ebor's everything. Black Sun snuck a spy in. I wanted to deny him, but-"
"Not your job." The woman nodded gently. "Continue."
"Grunseit took exception to Ziro for whatever reason and had his spy let a small army in to try to kill the Hutt off."
"Back up. There was a third group involved."
She nodded. "After the first couple attempts by Ziro, their mother hired a group called Red Sun. Their leader attracted Grunseit's attention for some other reason and was abducted by Black Sun in the middle of everything else. I was a little worried about him, but the rest of his people said it was well in hand; by the time everything was wrapped up, they had confirmation that he was safe."
The other woman leaned forward. "Assessment of Davine."
Ki'paran blinked in surprise. "Seemed like a security officer's worst nightmare, puts on a good show of being a thug. A really intelligent thug, the most dangerous type. But he treats his people well. There's genuine care and affection there, more like family."
The Weequay gestured for her to continue. Ki'paran hesitated, then said quietly, "He's Force sensitive. Dark, but not overtly so. Who is he, sir?"
"Someone we're keeping an eye on. A potential asset. How would you feel about an assignment on the Outer Rim? Nice quiet deal with a group of simple pirates."
She was so tired she couldn't help a giggle. "You never send me anything simple, Master An-chul."
"Shush." The Master of Shadows grinned. "You should have a comfortable timeframe to work with for this next one, at least. Take a few days for yourself, get some sleep. Decompress. Do some sightseeing like normal people do. I know I ask a lot of you, and I wish I could give you a month." She huffed in exasperation. "Or a year. When you're ready, pick up your transit instructions at the usual drop." She offered her hand as if sealing a deal.
Ki'paran sighed and slipped the datachip containing her full report into Master An-Chul's hand as they clasped. "Sleep. There's a thing I don't see much of."
"It's an occupational hazard, darling." An-chul paused. "If you run into Davine's people again, consider them trustworthy. He used to be one of ours."
"Used to be. But still trustworthy?"
Master An-chul stood and tugged the bottom hem of her jacket. "He's hunting the same people we are. Just… from a different angle. And without Council sanction. Trust in the Force, Knight Dinaas'kan."
"Master." She watched her boss leave and waited for the ringing in her ears to fade. Even a couple days' respite was a coveted luxury. Dina hadn't seen the inside of the Temple or carried a lightsaber in over a decade; not since she'd been knighted on the sly and immediately appropriated by the Shadows after that disaster on Yinchorr. The explosion that had cost part of her lekku and landed her with the other unidentified wounded in a Colonies medical station had helped her disappear officially from the Order's records, but An-chul had her taking all sorts of odd jobs from the Core to the Rim and back.
The room she'd rented in a doss-house a level up was practically singing to her. It wasn't a fancy place by any stretch, but it was clean with no pests, the managers were honest, and the laundry service and hot water were both part of the rental fee. Dina intended to make the most of it.
.
Mando'a translations:
"Gar burc'yaré olar. Ni Boba te'habir bé." - "Your friends are here. I'm going to take Boba out."
"Olar, Boba." - "C'mere, Boba."
"Awww! Ni copaani cuy'olar!" - "Awww! I wanna stay!"
"Val gana bor'koor jorhaa'i'bé. Mhi ven'yaimpar ven val kyr'nari." - "They have business to discuss. We'll come back when they're done."
"Ni ven'chaaj'jorhaa'i gar." - "I'll comm you."
