Chapter 10 - Winning Favour Part I

Louise wasn't happy. Not one bit. Her robes were ripped and torn and burned, and her face was tinged with red and caked with dirt. Her body hurt, feeling as if she had been sitting too close to a bonfire. Her hands especially ached from the light burns covering her skin.

However, to say she was angry was an overstatement. Hatred, rage boiled beneath her skin, but fear and confusion lingered like a sickness as well. Though too prideful to say so, she was scared—terrified. Anxiety pooled in her gut, and she felt like she wanted to throw up. It was only her training that stopped her from crying.

Worse was the paranoia. Every sudden movement solicited a flinch, a tense of muscle, and a spike of adrenaline. She was afraid, terrified everyone around her was seconds away from pulling a blaster and shooting her in the head—and it wasn't like her fears were unfounded. Nar Shaddaa was alive, quick, and bustling, and it was Hel on her nerves.

Behind her, four beings followed quietly. Khem and Nihl were the closest, flanking the Sith. Wary on edge, they looked at every man, woman and droid they passed with suspicion. It was almost challenging, in a way, as if daring anyone to try something. The other two, Rylee and Destris, were further away, giving Louise a wide birth. Uneased by their companions and terrified that whoever attacked the Sith might hit them as well.

Their destination? Captain Keeling's Listening Outpost. And Louise could not overstate the relief she felt when she finally arrived.

So named after its commanding officer, the outpost was a bit different than others of its type Louise was familiar with. She could understand why it was built into the back of a bar, but having to deal with the curious, suspicious and, in a few cases, lecherous looks from the patrons was testing her—especially after the events of today.

Fortunately, she didn't have to deal with any of that for long. A short chat with the barkeep later, in which a select few words were used, she found herself escorted to the back room. From there, it was a hidden doorway later that she found herself in a narrow but clean hallway lit by bright lights above and guarded by twitchy turrets. A few Imperials walked through the hallway, passing from one room to another with bored or irate expressions on their faces. Agents, technicians, diplomats, all working to cement the Empire's place on the moon.

Without further ado, she delved deeper into the outpost, following the instructions given to her by the barkeep. Eventually, she arrived in a large room filled with a multitude of terminals, computers, and holographic displays. More Imperials could be seen, toiling away, listening to conversations, tapping holomail, or simply writing up reports. The only one not working was a portly man who seemed to have been waiting for her.

"My lord," he greeted in Sith, eying her with a raised eyebrow. He was balding with greyish hair barely visible underneath his cap. His fatigues, white to symbolise his station as an officer with shoes clean enough to eat off. "I'm officer Keeling and welcome to my outpost. I would hope you've had a pleasant journey, but I feel like it hasn't been."

Louise scowled, the only thing she could do to hide how hurt she felt. "I was attacked in the streets. An astromech drove up to me and exploded in my face."

Keeling blanched at his words before his expression turned absolutely livid. "Those Republic dogs," he spat. "We should've warned you about that, my lord. Certain elements on this moon have made certain districts unsafe to traverse. Ever since the end of the Balmorran Resistance, those aligned with the Republic have decided to throw a tantrum over their loss. They've started programming droids to scan and attack Imperial citizens at random."

Great! Another sect of terrorists to deal with, Louise thought. She hated that. She hated how hated she was. It didn't matter who she was, she was a Sith and therefore she didn't deserve to live.

"This might be none of my business," Keeling continued, before she could reply, "but we have a medical bay here if you'd like one of our medics to take a look at you?"

Despite how hard she tried to keep up the airs of an aloof Sith Lord, unconcerned with her injuries, she couldn't help but smile, grateful. "Yes, thank you. But I have business first."

"Of course, my lord. When you're ready."

Nodding her head, Louise took a deep breath and turned her attention to the aforementioned business. "I was told to meet with Maro Vizhen and whoever's in charge of the operations on this planet."

"I can assume what you want with Diplomat Vizhen," Keeling said, clasping his hands behind his back, "but I find myself at a loss as to what you could want from Director Ban-el."

"It's about my mission on this moon," Louise said. "Darth Zash has given me many liberates in how I complete it. After some deliberation, I've come to the conclusion that my mission and the Empire's coincide with one another. If all goes to plan, the Empire's standing would improve monumentally with the lower classes."

Keeling hummed, rubbing his chin. "I can see why this might involve the Director. I'll try and get in contact, but I must inform you that he is a very busy man and it might take some time before a meeting can be organized. When one can, I'll contact you on your holo. You—" he called to one of the Imperial soldiers standing guard by the entrance of the room— "go take her to Vizhen's office."

"Yessir!" The soldier saluted before turning to Louise. "My lord, if you'll follow me."

Louise inclined her head but did not move from where she stood. "Before I go," she said, switching back to basic and looking at Officer Keeling, "could you please find a place for these two to stay?" She gestured to Rylee and Destris. "My plans hinge on them living."

Before the officer could reply, Destris coughed, pointedly. "Sorry, Pinkie, but I'm not just going to—"

Rylee jabbed him in the ribs, hard. "What he means, my lord, is that we could do more if we're out on the streets."

Louise pinned the two with an unimpressed glare. "First of, never call me Pinkie. Ever. Secondly, are you forgetting that, earlier today, I had to fight off several armed zealots that would've surely killed you had I not intervened?"

Destris looked ready to argue, but Rylee cut him off again. "We understand, my lord."

"Good. You can continue your operation but you'll stay here. I'm sure if you ask nicely, make your case, Officer Keeling might help you, but aside from that, you stay here."

"Yes, my lord."

"Thank you." Louise turned to her other companions. "Khem, Nihl, please watch them and make sure they don't get into trouble." Khem nodded his head and Nihl beeped, and Louise turned to the soldier-turned guide. "Now, Vizhen?"

The soldier nodded, respectfully, standing straighter as he said, "Yes, ma'am. Just follow me."

Back into the hallway, the soldier took Louise down deeper into the complex. It was actually quite surprising how big the outpost was. But eventually, they stopped at an unassuming door with the name "Diplomat Maro Vizhen" written beside it in both basic and Sith.

It was an office of fair size. Small than Zash's, especially after her promotion, but big enough for a diplomat to work their magic. A simple desk sat off to the side, a computer with too many screens spreading across it. On the other side of the room, pressed up against the wall, was a table-like holoprojector, dull and inactive.

Maro herself was sitting at her desk, massaging her temples and looking as if she could really use a break—and perhaps a hard drink. Upon hearing the Sith's arrival, though, she straightened, smiling. "My lord, thank you for dropping by."

The relief was tangible.

"Maro Vizhen?" Louise asked. "What is it that the Diplomatic Services need my aid for, exactly?"

"Straight to business," she said with a cordial nod. "I was tasked with gathering allies on Nar Shaddaa. The Hutt clans, corporations, gangsters. Most of them agreed, helping supply us with various resources… except for one. Ubaki is the leader of the local sect of the Exchange. He and his organization refuse to ally themselves with us."

"The Exchange…" Louise tapped her finger to her chin, trying to remember where she had heard that name before. "Aren't they… criminals?"

"Yes, they—"

"Then why do you want them to become allies with the Empire?"

"Did," Maro said, cutting Louise off with a pointed look. "I did want them to be allies. They would've been a great asset to the Empire, especially if we got both the Hutts and the Exchange on side. They've got the best slicers in the outer rim, and their aptitude for technology could've been helpful securing this moon for us. But time has long since passed for diplomacy. Ubaki drugs and tortures my messengers and sends back pieces of them to taunt us. We need to make an example of him."

Louise shook her head and tisked. She could vaguely understand the tactical advantage that having the criminal elements on their side. But… they were criminals! Working with them sounded like a recipe for disaster, especially as they only had loyalty to themselves. "The Empire should've crushed him and his ilk then and there, and now we're paying the price."

Maro slouched. She probably had this conversation before and would rather not have her failure—and that's what it was to Louise, a failure—scrutinized again. "Well, it looks like your wish will be answered," she said, eyes hardening. "I want his army decimated. I want his caches looted. I want his spice refiners razed to the ground. I want a show of force so overwhelming that no one on Nar Shaddaa will ever deny the Empire again. And I would like you to do it, if you would grant us this favour."

"Wait…" Louise furrowed her brow. "You want me to take out the Exchange… the entire Exchange… on my own?"

"Actually, my lord, you wouldn't be going alone," she said. "You'll have the aid of a bounty hunter by the name of Jacen Deathstrider to aid you. He's an Imperial mercenary and has proved himself quite the asset. I highly recommend you talk with him and his crew about your plans."

Jacen… Deathstrider? Louise thought, confused. What kind of last name is Deathstrider!?

She huffed and closed her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. "I'm not saying that I will be helping you—I will consider it—but… do you know where this… Deathstrider is? Do you have any information on him?"

"That is all I ask, my lord," Vizhen said, and Louise assumed everyone else—but Deathstrider—had just straight up said "no". "And yes, my lord. Jacen Deathstrider is a person of interest for the Empire and so, naturally, we've written up a dossier on the man. If you want to meet with him in person, I would check the red-light sector. He's fond of a certain club in that area."

Nodding slowly, not really knowing what a 'red-light sector' was, but attributing it to some Nar Shaddaaian thing. "If you could send me the dossier, that would be helpful. That aside, was there anything else? I would very much like a break."

"No, my lord, that is all. I'll send you the dossier to your holomail later today."

"Then I wish you a good day, Maro Vizhen," Louise said, thankful that all the business was done today.

"Yes, my lord, and to you, too."

Days had passed since the meeting at Keeling's Outpost and Louise had quite a lot of free time on her hands. She couldn't infiltrate Tydis Neutronics until her meeting with Director Ban-el, and even then, she wasn't sure if the Empire would help her or not. Though, she supposed that Director Ban-el taking their sweet time meant she had time to think about her plan a bit more. Then there was the entire situation with the Exchange. She supposed she could've visited Jacen Deathstrider the day after her arrival on Nar Shaddaa, but she needed time to consider things.

Her current thoughts on the matter? This is complete bullshit and Maro is an inept idiot who couldn't convince a starving dog to eat and I do not want my name attached to this operation in the slightest!

But she still wanted to help. If she made herself useful, the Empire might be more open to helping her in turn, and she desperately needed their help.

So, the answer was simple. She would help but she would simply not attach her name.

After all, it was about time she had gotten in contact with her old "friend," Karin the Bounty Hunter.

Of course, there was always the issue of disguise. Last time, she could've done better, admittedly. A helmet had been the only thing to protect her identity. But this time, she had time and resources—time and resources that she used liberally throughout her brief reprieve from the woes of Sith life.

Aside from paying for repairs for her robes, she also decided to splurge a bit and buy a set of battered old armour and a body glove for cheap. It took a bit more to get it properly fitted, but with after a few days, she had a suit of armour to call her own. More than that, she bought some other bits and bobs and reagents: a new blaster, and a vibroblade, and a spiffing black duster, too! If she wanted to moonlight as a bounty hunter, she needed to look the part, after all.

But… by the end of it all, her savings account lay thoroughly gutted. As an apprentice, she had earned roughly 2,500 credits per month. Most of this went to living expenses such as food or fuel. During her time on Dromund Kaas, she had saved most of it for a rainy day, and now almost all of it was gone.

She supposed it was worth it, in the end. She did need some of what she bought.

Now, though, she was prepared. It was time to finally meet the infamous Jacen Deathstrider.

Pulling herself out of bed, she had a shower, and got dressed and armed to meet with the bounty hunter. Her vibroblade was strapped to her lower back, her Sith dagger hid in her boot, and her old blaster pistol hung on her hip. But before she could collect her companions and leave her starship, her holocommunicator started beeping.

Answering the call, the bust of a protocol droid appeared in hand, similar in appearance to Twovee, but different in lots of small ways.

"My lord, 3V-8X at your service," it said primly, with a masculine voice. "Director Ban-el has accepted your request for an audience. The call ID has been sent to you via holomail. Should you not have access to a holo-communicator built to accept group calls, Officer Keeling has offered his office to host the meeting. It will start in an hour."

"Uh… thank you?" Louise said, surprised and confused. "I… u… tell Officer Keeling that I will be attending from my own holocomm system."

The droid inclined its head. "As you command. Is that all?"

"Uh… yes? Thank you?"

"3V-8X ending communications," the droid said, and the hologram died.

Louise continued staring at the holocommunicator in hand, just a bit stunned by the entire conversation. I guess my plans have changed. She wasn't upset. She had been waiting anxiously for Ban-el to answer her request, but… By the Immortal Gods of the Sith, they couldn't've given me some warning!?

Telling Khem and Nihl about the change of plans, Louise returned to her bedroom to get dressed in an outfit more befitting of an official meeting. Thankfully, the repairs for her robes went along quick enough, so by the end of the hour she was all dressed and ready to meet with the director.

With her crew all gathered in the lounge. Khem was standing off by her side, while Toovee dealt with the technical aspects of dealing with a group holocall. All the while, Louise stood tapping her foot waiting for the meeting to begin.

Not a moment too soon, and the holocomm burst to life, three grainy blue figures quickly materializing above the machine. The first, she recognized: Officer Keeling. But the other two were new. One was a kinky-haired human male dressed in fine Imperial clothes befitting a Director, while the other was a refined Sith female with wide brow-spurs. Ban-el and… another.

Louise shifted in place, wondering why another Sith was sitting in on the meeting. She looked familiar, but she couldn't place a name or rank to her face.

"Ah, Louise of the Sith," said who she assumed was Ban-el, "apprentice to the newly named Darth Zash of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Teneb Ban-el, director of the diplomatic operations on Nar Shaddaa."

"And I am Lord Zavrasha," cut in the Sith woman, imperiously, "apprentice to Darth Mortis, Head of the Sphere of Laws and Justice. I am here to oversee that whatever plan you have does not threaten the Treaty of Coruscant."

Louise had to stop herself from gawking. Apprentice to Darth Mortis? The Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Mortis? That Darth Mortis? Despite having grown up with the princess of a nation as a playmate, being a single degree of separation from the Dark Council, and two degrees of separation from the Emperor himself was… mind-boggling.

Yet still, she winced at the sharpness of the Sith Lord's words. "I'm sure it won't, my lord."

"We shall see." Her skepticism was biting.

"Yes, I was told you are plotting to improve the Empire's standing on this moon," Director Ban-el said, seemingly ignoring the abrasiveness of the Sith beside him.

"Yes, Director."

"Let's hear it, then," Lord Zavrasha said, like a parent dealing with a child.

Louise bristled but forced neutrality as she began to explain her plans. "My master has ordered me to deal with the renegade, Paladius."

Ban-el sneered. "It's about time someone dealt with that stain. He's been a thorn in our side since he decided to go rogue. Though, I am curious as to how this improves our standing…?"

"It is in the details," Louise clarified. "Paladius has something my master wants and, to acquire it, I need to take him out. As such, I am working with two former cultists of his to usurp his powerbase. Through me, the cult would be serving the Empire—unofficial arms working through proxies and building good relations with the denizens of this moon without the Republic being able to do anything about it.'

"My plan is to make myself invaluable to the lower classes of this city—cure the plagues that have been a scourge upon the less fortunate; demolish the gangs and criminal elements that have been leeching off the people here. I would be declaring that we are helping the forgotten and discarded, and they would flock to my side."

Ban-el nodded his head, though his expression was neutral. Whether he was agreeing or simply humouring her, Louise didn't know.

Zavrasha, however, had a less ambiguous reaction. She snorted. "Your plan is amateurish and requires the people to act exactly how you say. Most of the refugees are here because of us. Why would they follow a Sith?"

"You underestimate how desperate these people are," Louise retorted. "The former cultists—the people who remember what it's like living on the streets here—told me exactly how desperate the people are. Their lives are worse than terrible. They suffer and die by the droves, whether through famines, or gang wars, or plagues. They have nothing. Nothing at all. If we help them, they'll flock to our side. These former cultists, Rylee and Destris, are currently staying at Keeling's Outpost. Ask them yourself how desperate the people are, and you'll see that I'm right."

"And how would this help us?" Ban-el cut in.

"Through me, the Empire would be seen making a change. And, if the Empire decides it might want to have a more hands-on approach, supplying food, teaching them how to fend for themselves, and genuinely helping them, word will spread, and it might improve our reputation with the wider galaxy. After all, we would be seen helping people. And, if someone did object, they would seem rather… callous attempting to stop us from helping improve the lives of those who need it."

"So, what you're saying is…?"

"Help people and they will help you," Louise said, feeling like it was obvious. "With all due respect, the Empire does no favours for itself by allying with criminal elements and antagonising the civilians of this planet. Yes, the Exchange is powerful but they're criminals and their loyalty is to themselves and themselves alone."

"While I can see your point," Ban-el said diplomatically, "I feel you are quite ignorant regarding our alliances with the Hutts and other criminal syndicates. Nevertheless, your ignorance means nothing for your plot. If we were to led our support, what would you want from us?"

Louise's pride stung at being called ignorant. While she knew she needed to learn a lot more about the situation, working with criminals was just… it felt wrong. They were criminals, after all!

But she didn't argue. Instead, she nodded her head, accepted the criticism, and focused on her plan and her plan alone. Taking a deep breath, she said, "It depends on what the Empire can supply. Ideally, if we could produce and distribute a cure for the Rot plague. Tydis Neutronics has created their own cure, but they are currently selling it at exorbitant prices."

"Couldn't we just buy a sample of the cure?"

Louise shook her head. "No. You do not buy the vaccine. They administer it themselves in their own clinics, perhaps to avoid other companies synthesizing their own cure.'

"My other plan was to steal samples from their warehouses and produce more of our own. For that, I would need several soldiers or agents who could help me break in and transport them out.""And you think those afflicted would accept our aid at face value?" asked Lord Zavrasha.

"I don't think they would have the choice," Louise shrugged. "It's either they accept our cure, somehow acquire enough money to buy from Tydis, or die slowly and painfully."

"I can see your point."

"Agreed," said Director Ban-el. "Nevertheless, I will need to think of this. We're low on manpower as it is, and our grip on this moon isn't as strong as would be preferable. But…—" He scratched his beard— "if you were to help us with the Empire's efforts here, we could help you. After all, you said yourself, 'Help people and they will help you.'"

Louise frowned. She was already helping the Empire clean up their mess here. She was just about to leave to start plotting how to solve Maro's little problem. What more could the Empire want? And she said as such.

"Cleaning up Vizhen's mess isn't what I meant," he was quick to reply, seemingly scowling at the remember of the diplomat. "We have other… issues I would like dealt with. At the moment, we won't ask much of you, but there is one job that could use your particular skill set."

"And what is that, Director?"

"You will need to talk to one of our agents—Madel Ffeth. She's currently dealing with the growing unrest in the Duros sector. Perhaps helping her will help your plan in the long run?"

Keeling cut in, speaking for the first time since the meeting began. "I'm sure I can get you in contact with Agent Ffeth, my lord."

"Thank you, Officer Keeling," Lousie said, inclining her head respectfully to the portly man. "And yes, Director, if it will help the Empire, I will lend my aid."

"Good, good," Director Ban-el said. "If that is all for today…?" When nobody said anything, he nodded, satisfied. "Good. I'll be getting back to work."

"Agreed," added Zavrasha. "End communications."

The holograms of Director Ban-el and Lord Zavrasha vanished with a flicker, leaving Keeling and Louise alone.

"For what it is worth, my lord," Keeling said. "Your plan might just be what the Empire needs. We've been focusing too much on short-term gains instead of anything long-form."

"Thank you, Officer Keeling," Louise said, genuinely.

He held up a hand as if to stop her. "No need, my lord. Now, Agent Ffeth?"

"Yes."

...

An hour later and Louise was flying through the skyline of Nar Shaddaa. She was dressed in her 'civilian' outfit again, armed like she had been before. But this time, her sniper rifle was with her, currently packed away and inside its briefcase-like container. Along with her, was Khem and Nihl, each silently preparing for what was to come.

The Flame.

Name? Unknown. Goals? Unknown. All the Empire knew was that, aside from the Republic, he was one of the major players regarding the growing anti-Imperial sentiment on the moon. What was worse? Imperial Intelligence had killed him twice before, but it seemed he missed the memo.

Fortunately, her job wasn't to find and fight the Flame. Honestly, it wouldn't have surprised her if they did want her to, but no. Instead, her job was a lot more grim.

In an attempt to learn more about the budding rebellion, Imperial Intelligence had inserted an agent into the Flame's midst. He had been found and executed and hung in the middle of a plaza for all to see, along with his unpublished reports.

It was a trap, of course. Even without Agent Ffeth's warning, she could tell. It's why she brought the literal big gun.

But they needed those reports. And they needed to dispose of the body, both out of basic respect, and to destroy a rallying point for the Flame. So that's what she had to do.

With that in mind, Louise and her companions landed in the Duros district, so named for its high population of Durosians. They were refugees, congregating together out of shared blood and shared culture. There were more than just Duros, of course. From the landing platform alone, she could spot Twi'lek, werewolf-like Shistavanen, a Chiss (and weren't they an odd sight even inside the Empire) and a few other aliens here and there. There were even some humans, humans with hair as varied as home. But most were Duros and all were a potential threat.

Hopping from the skycar, Louise lugged the briefcase out with her. It was heavy, unwieldy, but far more conspicuous than lugging around the rifle proper. It gave her chills, really. She had gotten the idea from the holonet and was eager to act out one of the holodrama's she had seen with Lyira.

The party split without a word. Louise left off to one direction with Khem and Nihl going another, just as they had discussed beforehand.

As she walked, Louise kept an eye out for, well, anything. She was in an alien district in both senses of the word. She wouldn't call herself a xenophobe—she had nothing against aliens, and certainly didn't think herself superior—but Imperial relations with the people of Nar Shaddaa wasn't exactly positive.

She really didn't want to deal with being attacked in the streets, to be frank.

But, the deeper she delved into the sector, the more her attention wavered as the realities of the notorious Duros sector revealed themselves to her.

Trash littered the streets, water and sludge building up in the nooks and crannies around. Speeder and droids lay abandoned and stripped for parts. In an attempt to make more room, makeshift houses and stalls were built onto the side and above the original buildings, looking as if they were held together with duratape and prayer.

But, despite how terrible the place looked, it seemed the denizens were just living their lives, trying to make the best of a terrible situation. She could see kids running around and playing games or following their parents as they bought food or toys or whatever scrap they could get their hands on. People ate traditional if makeshift Durosian food at street vendors, while others hung their laundry out from lines of wire crisscrossing above the street.

It was sobering, in a way.

Fortunately, she was not accosted along her way to her destination. By that, she was not attacked. A few market stalls tried peddling their wares to her, but she managed to bumble her way out of the situation. And eventually, she arrived.

It was a tall tower overlooking the Umbarra Plaza. Apparently, it was once some kind of hotel-market mix, but now it served as makeshift housing for the refugees. But, the reports dictated that only most of it had been refurbished. A few rooms were vacant for one reason or another, and a few of the top floors were completely devoid of life.

Of course, entering through the door wouldn't help matters. She'd need to deal with the inhabitants, something she didn't want to do. But there was more than just one way to get to the vantage points above. Thank the Force.

Scene break

Louise grunted as her body hit the side of the building, her gloved hands latching on to the divots of the wall. Below her, the world looked perilously small. The denizens of the Duros Sector weren't quite ant size, but they weren't far off it. From tower to tower, she had jumped and climbed and scaled, and her arms were starting to hurt. But she was nearly there—just one more jump.

The wind howled in her ear, pulling at her clothes and leaving her nerves on edge. She scrambled up, pulling herself onto narrow ledge, and scurried to put her back against the tower wall.

Her heart thumped loudly in her ears, her breathing deep and ragged. Harkun might've put her through the wringer concerning physical training, but scaling a tower was never in her regiment. But… she was almost there. Just one more jump. Just one more jump.

The sniper rifle's case sat below on the balcony she had just jumped off. For normal people, that might've been an issue, but Louise was Sith. So, it only took the slight application of the Force to send the briefcase flying into her hand.

Setting the case down, she turned her attention upwards to the balcony two stories above her.

She stood up, brushed off the dirt and grime from her clothes, and practically threw herself off the ground and into the air. Her hands reached out, grasping. The railing broke, Louise's gut plunged, and it was only quick thinking that saved her from falling all the way back down.

"Oh… oh…" Louise breathed, feeling much like Cattleya's cat whenever it caught itself from falling off the bed. Fingers dug into the grooved flooring, legs dangling perilously below. Her chest hurt. Her arms hurt. But she couldn't do anything about it without the threat of falling becoming even more a possibility.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly pulled herself up, thankful for her high-friction gloves. It took a moment, more than a moment, but eventually Louise had pulled herself to safety.

"Oh, karking hell!" she said, holding her chest. "I do not get paid enough for this…"

But she was done. Finally. There was no more jumping needed, at least until she had to get back down. She summoned the rifle case to into hand and began looking around her new "sniper's nest".

The balcony led into what could've been a lounge room, but the ceiling was collapsed and the whole room trashed. The dining table lay broken in half, a couch decrepit and covered in dust. Grimly, she noted a pile of bones, vaguely humanoid, beneath some of the rubble.

How long had it been there? She didn't know.

It was quiet. The din of the city was just at the edge of her hearing. Skycars and ships could be heard speeding through the air, and she was pretty sure she could hear an advertisement playing on a massive holoprojection across on the other side of the district.

She rolled her shoulders, briefly looking down at the plaza below.

It was a dismal place, more than the rest of the sector. People seemed to avoid it like the plague, letting rubbish build up in the dying plots of flora with grime and stains coagulating in cracks of duracrete pathways.

Dropping the rifle case onto the ground, she got to work reconstructing the blaster. It didn't take long. By now, she had taken it apart and put it back together again more times than she could count. More than that, the runes were certainly a help. But soon, everything was snapped and locked into place, and she could get a closer look at the plaza below.

A moment later, and she almost wished she hadn't.

She found the target, the body of Agent Metis. He was hung from a piece of abstract art, barbed wire serving as the noose. He was naked and gutted, entrails dangling precariously. His legs were broken, and he was missing fingers and chunks of skin. A datapad hung from his neck, dangling for all to see.

If she had any qualms with dealing with the Flame before, they were silenced as cold rage simmered beneath an aloof façade. Pulling her holocommunicator free from her belt, she called Khem to inform her of her arrival.

Barely a few seconds passed before he answered, his bust floating a few inches above the device. The image was grainer than usual, and far more drab.

"Khem," Louise said. "I'm in position."

"Excellent, little Sith," Khem replied, face bereft of emotions. She could feel his hatred seething through the Force. "Are you ready?"

"Very. Draw them out."

"As you command…" The hologram died, and Louise peered back down through her scope.

Just as planned, Khem and Nihl approached the body, drawing the eyes of the few who were wandering the plaza. Enemies or curious bystanders? Louise couldn't tell, but she kept an eye out for anything suspicious.

Eventually, the two arrived at the hanging corpse, gently swaying in the breeze. Khem's sword was unsheathed, held low and casually. He reached for the datapad around Metis' neck, and—

BANG!

Khem ducked, bringing his blade to bear. Just in time as well, as a shower of shrapnel flew right where he once was, shredding Mentis' body even more.

All around Khem and Nihl, Louise could see fifteen—maybe seventeen—aliens all drawing weapons of all sorts—Blasters, vibroblades, and slugthrowers. Her heart thumped, her breath quickened, but she forced herself to stay calm as she took aim.

Briefly, she imagined what it must've looked like from their perspective. One second, they were arming up to take out some Imperial dog who dared recover the mutilated remains of one of their own. Then, the next moment, his best friend Bastien collapsed with a smoking hole in his head.

Oddly enough, the thought brought a smile to her face as she unloaded bolt after bolt at the little insects below.

A few grew smart, taking cover as soon as they realized that there was a sniper. But, just because she couldn't see them didn't mean they were safe. After all, Khem Val the Devourer was down there with them, and it took all her willpower not to sit and watch. Like a whirlwind of death, he launched himself at the closest of the Flame's men, rending them in half with a single swing of his sword. Then, another would die, gutted, decapitated, electrocuted or torn to shreds.

Nihl was also holding his own, surprisingly enough. With his spindly little robot arm, he returned fire, and, with another contraption, he spewed literal fire out like a dragon. Those unfortunate enough to be flammable ran, screaming their lungs out. And then they fell to the ground in a futile effort to stop, drop, and roll. And then they died.

It was beautiful.

But she couldn't just sit and watch. She took aim again, and pulled the trigger again, and again, and again, and again, and again. The clip ran out, so she reloaded it, and started raining plasma all over again.

Some bolts missed their mark—she blamed the wind—but, soon, everyone was dead.

Their bodies littered the plaza, some simply collapsed on the floor, others limp over railings, piled in the corners. A few, she noted with sick satisfaction, had their legs on the pavement, an arm in the dry pond, and their head in the trash.

While Louise assessed the battlefield, Khem returned to Agent Metis' body and completed their mission. Nihl set the corpse ablaze with his flamethrower, and then all that was left was to meet up. So, she dismantled her rifle, packed it away, and started her journey down the tower.

All she needed to do was deliver the datapad, and then it was time to meet Jacen Deathstrider.

Finally.

...

"I swear to the Emperor," Louise hissed in the tongue of the Sith, "Jacen better be here or I will hunt him down and strangle him with his own intestines."

"I will hold him down," grumbled Khem, staring straight ahead and anything but please. "This place gives me a headache…"

Louise nodded her head, uncomfortable and embarrassed and hating everything. When she first heard of the Red-Light sector, she wasn't sure what to expect. Perhaps a lot of red lights? But whatever vague ideas she did have were just nowhere close to the truth.

Yes, there was an overwhelming number of red lights illuminating the streets and skyline—neon signs, advertisements, or simple decoration. However, there was more too it than that. A lot more. Aliens and humans of all shapes and sizes crowded down the large streets—Zeltron, Twi'lek, Mirilan, Rodian, and more. She had even seen another Chiss wading through the crowds. But one thing was consistent: they all seemed to be enjoying whatever constituted the nightlife around here. Some sat on terraces, drinking wine and dining on rich foods, while other gambled in the local casinos and dens of vice.

It was much like the Promenade, in a way. Except for the nudity.

If Louise was counting—and she most certainly wasn't, thank you very much—she'd have counted… what? Twelve? Eighteen? Twenty-three women who had all decided to forego a top and even a bra. And many more who did were dressed so scantily that clothes were almost superfluous.

Of course, the men weren't any better. With skin-tight pants that left nothing to the imagination, Louise was left feeling a bit queasy. Worse for those few men who wore pants that just didn't have anything covering the buttock.

If there was one thing she did not want to see today, it was some grown man's butt.

All in all though, it appeared that sex was the main commodity. And, the deeper she travelled down the streets, the clearer it became. Strip clubs, brothels, "adult theatres," and more joined the collection of casinos and restaurant. It was overwhelming, uncomfortable, and she hated it all—the noise, the crowds, the offensive sights and smells, and the sooner she was done here the better, in her opinion.

So, Louise persevered. She needed to meet with Jacen about the Exchange.

Not soon enough, she eventually arrived at her destination.

But before she could enter, however, a soft-faced Mirilani man stopped her in her tracks, hips swaying suggestively. Bare-chested and with a gilded collar around his neck, the only real clothes he wore was the silk skirt around his hips.

"Hey, girl," he purred with a soft, effeminate voice, eying her in a way that left her skin crawling. "Why—"

"No, no, no! I am not doing this. You will forget I was ever here. You never saw me," Louise hissed, summoning the Force to invade and befuddle his mind.

He blinked, eyes glazing as he repeated her orders. "I will forget you were ever here. I never saw you…"

With a sigh, Louise quickly walked by the man… prostitute… whoever he was, and made a B-line to the strip club. Strip club because of course Jacen Darkstrider's favourite place was a karking strip club!

Fortunately, the first room seemed to be free of naked women and men, instead serving as a semi-sort of receptionist-security antechamber leading into the club proper. There was a security guard, human, tall and intimidating—or at least he would be had Louise not met Khem Val nor lived in the Empire for any extended period of time.

A few others were there as well, but they were either leaving or entering and Louise was left alone to deal with the security guard. As she approached the main entrance, he quickly sidestepped and barred her path.

"Weapons stay out," the security guard said, towering over Louise and being towered over Khem Val in turn. "And same with the droid."

"Isn't there a place I could store them?" Louise asked.

"Yeah, but it'll cost ya." He acted like this was a common question and he seemed to almost enjoy it. Weird.

"How much?"

He shrugged, and looked her up and down. "Twenty credits per hour."

"Twenty per hour!? That's—that's—that's practically robbery!" Louise cried, outraged.

"Yeah, well…"

"Ten credits per hour," Louise said, summoning the Force once again. She did not want to deal with this crap.

"Ten? Now who's thieving," the security guard said with a scoff. "Twenty or leave it."

"You will accept ten credits per hour," Louise said, drawing up all the hatred and anger her little body could hold and attempting to all but crush his will beneath hers.

He gritted his teeth, body shuddering as it resisted, but Louise wouldn't let up. She was done. She would not spend more time and money in this Force forsaken place as she already was. Nothing would stop her from getting this karking meeting underway.

"Ten credits," he muttered dully, expression completely blank. "That'll be ten credits for the storage per hour."

"Thank you," Louise said, pleased that she was still a decent barterer. "And nothing will happen to my droid and my weapons, correct?"

"No, they will be kept safe," he said, and his words rang true through the Force.

"Good." She turned to Khem, "Sorry, but—"

But Khem had already removed his sword, holding it out to the security guard. "By the twisted kinks of Fate, anything to get out of here sooner."

Louise shrugged, and turned to Nihl. "You heard the man. No droids allowed. Go follow the nice man, and I'll be back for you."

Nihl =/= droid / Nihl = Sith Louise could almost hear the indignation in his beeps, but she shook her head. "Nihl, please, I won't be long. Please don't fight me on this."

Despite the fact he literally had no face or facial expressions, she could practically see the pain on his face. Nihl + Please = New

Then, Nihl practically sagged, a whining beep that almost sounded like a dramatic, "Fine."

"Thank you," Louise said, truly grateful.

She handed her weapons to the security guard. Together with Nihl—who was busy threatening the dulled security guard with endless suffering should anything happen to him or his master's weapons—the security guard left to the storage room and gave Louise the go-ahead to enter.

And then immediately she regretted it.

Much to her surprise, the strip club was a classy place, in a way. The walls were decorated in dark velvet, the floor a dark linoleum tile. Leather chairs spread across the wide "entertainment" hall, and the room seemed to be impeccably lit to draw the focus to the many stages here and there.

Music thumped loudly, an indescribable mess of booming bass that set the beat for the dancers. It reverberated through the floor and her entire body and pounded in her ears. Louise guessed it wasn't so bad, but with her poor mood it was nothing more than an annoyance.

But that wasn't what left her regretting ever meeting the idiot named Vizhen.

No, it was the stages themselves. Specifically, the people on the stage.

The stages were luminescent, faintly glowing with some kind of thin layer of fog curling atop it. A few stages had poles sticking out of them, reaching high and into the ceiling, while others were decorated with cages—all, of which, were currently occupied by naked men and women of varying species all dancing around, swinging on poles, and… and… doing things that were best left for the bedroom.

It left her skin crawling and strange twisting feelings in her gut. She didn't like it. In fact, she actively hated it. Oh… I am so going to murder Jacen…

Louise averted her eyes, focusing instead on the leering customers, of which there was a lot. Mostly, it was men, but there were a decent number of women here and there as well, enjoying the show. So, it didn't mean her task was impossible. Just difficult.

Wading past the crowds, she looked around, comparing the photos she had seen of Jacen to all the men around her. None fit. At least, none yet. So she continued, deeper and deeper into the club until she had almost arrived at the bar—it sat on a platform, almost the same height as the stages, with stares leading up to it, and gave a great vantage point of the entire room.

And it was there she found Jacen.

Sitting back, he was watching the show with an amused smirk on his lips, was Jacen Darkstrider. He was a lanky and pasty man with mousy brown hair that framed a pair of steely grey eyes.

Louise visibly sagged, relieved, and immediately heading over to him.

"Jacen Darkstrider, I presume?" she asked once she was close enough.

The man eyed her warily. "Who wants to know?"

"Our mutual business partner," Louise replied, cutting right to the chase. "Maro Vizhen."

Jacen furrowed his brain, looking as if trying to remember something. A second later, he seemed to have realized whatever it was, and nodded his head, eying Louise with a critical eye. "Huh… you're who I'm working with?"

"Do you have a problem with that?" she asked, tersely.

Jacen smirked. "Someone's testy today. So, what are you? Some Imperial merc? A bounty hunter?"

"Do I look like a mercenary?" Louise asked, rhetorically.

"No, but I wouldn't expect an Imperial to—"

"To what?"

"Well, have you seen your hair?" Jacen said, looking as if he was finding the whole situation amusing.

"What is with everyone and my hair!"

"It is quite long, little Sith…" Khem grumbled with a shrug.

Louise shot him a glare. Who's side are you on?

"Yeah, what the big guy said," Jacen replied, but it was obvious he had no idea what Khem had said. "It's all—wait… did he say Sith?"

"Could we take this conversation somewhere private?" Louise hissed, her patience growing thin.

Seeing the look in her eyes, Jacen wisely kept the snark to a minimum. "Uh… yeah, sure. Just let me finish my drink." He then turned around, picked up a tall glass two-thirds filled with some blue bubbly liquid, and proceeded to drink the entire thing in a few seconds flat. Twitching, he stood up. "Let's go."

...

"So, you're a Sith?" Jacen had taken her into the back rooms of the club, of which there were many. Specifically, he took her to a small and comfortable looking lounge, with the north, east and west walls being lined with pristine leather chairs. Had they been anywhere else, she supposed it would've been a hangout area for private parties. But, considering where she was, Louise was not going to sit on those chairs, no way in Chaos.

"You say that like I called myself a unicorn," Louise replied, crossing her arms and wondering why she hadn't murdered him already. Oh, yeah, it's because I need a human shield…

"Huh…" He scratched his cheek. "I didn't think they grew Sith that small… and pink."

Louise blinked dumbly, the words not registering at first. And then they did.

"You—you… What did you say!?" she screamed, lightning crackling from up her arms and across her body almost on instinct.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Louise snapped around, finding a blue-skinned woman halfway through the doorway and looking at the three beings in the room with clear amusement. With sharp features and aloof air about her, she put the Sith on edge. It didn't help that her red eyes seem to bore into her soul. They were a Chiss.

"This room is occupied," Louise said, seething with murderous intent. "Occupé. Comprendre?"

"I noticed, Louise," the Chiss said, letting herself in.

The electrical discharge died, and Louise became guarded. "Who are you? How did you know my name?"

The Chiss shrugged. "You may call me Nines."

"Uh…" Jacen said, intelligently. "That doesn't tell us who you are."

"I'm here to help you both take down the Exchange," she said, simply. "The criminal syndicate has caused problems for the Empire and I've been tasked by Maro Vizhen to help deal with them."

"She's an assassin," Khem grumbled from Louise's side.

"Of sorts," the Chiss replied, and unlike Jacen she seemed to know Dashadi. "But trust me when I say that I only have the Empire's best interests at heart. I'm not after any of you—I'm just here to help."

"Okay, I'm lost," Jacen said. "What did the big guy say?"

"She's an assassin," Louise supplied.

"Huh… are you an assassin?" Jacen asked.

Louise recoiled, panic leaving her body prickly and hot. "What? No! What makes you think that!? I haven't assassinated anyone!" She threw her thumb over at Khem. "He's the assassin!"

"Huh… three for three," he mused, and Louise could do nothing but growl.

"Anyway!" Louise said. "How did you find us? How did you know we'd be here?"

Nine shrugged. "I have my ways."

"Kinky..." Jacen added with a snort.

The two women blinked, and stared at the man. "What does that have to do with kink?" asked Nine.

"Nothing, Miss I-have-my-ways."

Louise shook her head, not sure what Darkstrider was going on about, and turned back to the Chiss. "Wait," she said, something itching in her mind. Vague memories of seeing a Chiss in the Duros Sector, and again in the Red Light Sector. "Were… were you following me?"

"Despite your size, you're quite easy to find in a crowd," Nine replied in lieu of an answer.

At the jab at her height, Louise couldn't help but scowl, but none of the anger came as it had with Jacen. She had been followed and hadn't realized it. Damn it, she thought. Should've been paying attention...

"You're Imperial Intelligence, aren't you?" Jacen asked, scratching at his cheek.

Nine raised a delicate eyebrow. "You're certainly more perceptive then you let on."

Jacen smiled, wide and toothily. "Greatest mistake is to underestimate the dirty old womanizer."

"Too true," Nine said with a nod of her head.

"Enough talk," Louise growled. "We're supposed to be planning our attack on the Exchange!"

Jacen shrugged, and reclined on the couch, taking the abrupt change of conversation on easily. "I thought it was pretty simple," he said. "We go in and blow shit up. Done."

Nine's took a deep breath, seemingly personally offended by such a plan. "I think… I think that could use some work."

"Well, we do got a Sith on our side, right?" Jacen said, looking up at Louise. ""I assume we'll be seeing you do your Sith-y lightning hand stuff?"

Louise shrugged, clasping her hands behind her back. "I will not be joining you."

Jacen furrowed his brow. "Whaddya mean?"

"I have business to deal with on Nar Shaddaa—private matters—but I have a reliable agent who'll be filling in."

"I'm hoping it's the big guy."

Louise shook her head. "No. A woman by the name of Karin."

"Karin?" Nine's asked. "She have a last name or anything?"

"Karin Maillart."

Nine's nodded her head, seemingly accepting the answer with an easy nod. "Is she reliable? Skilled?"

"She's done work for me before, and is quite reliable," Louise answered, feeling weird like she was stroking her own ego. "She's skilled in multiple forms of combat—melee, ranged, whatever—and has survived quite a lot in her short career. She's fast, agile, and stronger than she looks."

"Another Sith?" Jacen asked. "Your apprentice or some crap?"

"No… she's just a mercenary who I've sponsored."

"And why isn't she here?" asked Nine.

"She's off-world at the moment," Louise lied easily. "She'll be arriving in a few days. I'll be keeping her updated on whatever we plan."

"Well, if what you say is true, then I'm not worried," said Jacen.

"Good," she said with a huff. "Now, could we finally get to the planning? And just saying 'explosions' doesn't count!"

Jacen rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine…"

In the end, the meeting took almost an hour to complete. Through it all, they had discussed idea after idea about how to approach the mission. Jacen, as it seemed, was quite the fan of "head in guns a blazing," but he was outvoted three to one by literally everyone else. So, slow and steady they'd take it, and then resort to explosions and mass murder if the plan went south.

She didn't know why, but she felt she was going to like working with Nine. She was sensible, she was smart, she had an entire map of the Exchange's operations on Nar Shaddaa.

The details were a bit complex, a bit more complex than they otherwise would've been, but it seemed Jacen had some actually good ideas floating around somewhere in that alcohol-soaked brain of his. But, overall… Louise wasn't sure. After all, there were just three—no, five of them (apparently Nine and Jacen had some friends they'd like to bring along). A single mistake could end with someone dead, and they were undoubtedly going up against superior numbers. But… well, she guessed it could be worse. Thank the Force for Nine who seemed to have actually studied strategy and tactics.

Once the meeting was all said and done, the three went their separate ways. Louise quickly left the Sector, back to her ship, absolutely exhausted.

From: Teneb Ban-el

To: Louise de La Tsis

Louise, we have come to the decision to sponsor your operation here on Nar Shaddaa. An agent will be sent to Tydis Neutronics to requisition a sample of their cure for the Rot, and you have been given command of an Imperial squadron to help with anything else you require.

Glory to the Empire

Teneb Ban-el

Director of the Imperial Operations on Nar Shaddaa.

P.S. Admiral Jefand Ange requests your presence at Imperial Outpost Drazaal in the Duros Sector as soon as possible.

Louise read the email once, twice, three times over, and couldn't stop a wide smile from splitting her face in two.

"Oh, thank the Emperor," she breathed, collapsing back onto her bed. Now she didn't have to worry! She had five days before their plans for the Exchange would be put into motion—Nine's wanted some time to prepare—and with the situation regarding Tydis Neutronics being dealt with for her, she had the next few days to just… relax.

Yes, she needed to figure out who the kark Admiral Ange was and what he wanted, but other than that? Freedom!