Chapter 13: Repercussions and Conspiracy
Louise was having a pleasant dream.
The events of a trashy Jedisploitation holo series replayed in her mind, hours after she finished watching—the Jedi Jargen Throne teamed up with the renegade detective, Neos Tyrellan, against the dreaded Black Hawks syndicate. Yet, as the two trip head first into a conspiracy as old as the Republic, the Jedi finds himself tripping head over heels for his partner. It was just about to get juicy before the whole dream vanished in a puff of smoke, and the incessant mechanical beeping of an alarm filled her ears.
Someone was calling her.
Louise's first—well, not thought (she was nowhere near conscious enough to form a thought), but instinctual desire was to ignore it. Bury her head in her sheets, horde the warmth of her blanket like a greedy dragon, and shut the loud and demanding world out forever.
Then Twovee came clambering into her room, feet clanking against the metal floor, and urgency in his robotic voice. "Master! It appears you're getting an urgent call from Zoist."
Were her eyes not welded shut from sleep, they would've opened—wide and surprised. Instead, she stilled, turning to face her droid servant. "Wha…?"
"Erm… yes, master," Twovee replied. "Caller I.D. is the Department of Military Inquiries, New Adasta, Ziost."
The Department of Military Inquiries? She hadn't heard of that particular department, though she knew that there were hundreds of departments that made up the Imperial bureaucracy. But what did they want with her? Louise sighed, long and exhausted. Nevertheless, a summons was a summons, and she was obliged to answer. So, she crawled out of bed and planted her feet onto the cold hard durasteel floor.
A chill creeped up her spine, and she shivered, then stretched, forcing her eyes open at long last. "Tell them I'll join them shortly," Louise said, not even bothering to face the droid as she went about getting dressed.
"Of course, master."
...
It didn't take long before she was ready, dressed in robes fitting for an official meeting. Just a short trip to the bathroom to wash her face and deal with bedhead, and she made her way to the conference room and to the main holocommunicator of the ship.
A moment later and the flickering form of a Sith Lord appeared—a pureblood, if the tendrils and spikes were any indication. A particularly old and bored one, at that. "Ah, Tyro Louise. Apprentice of Darth Zash," he said, voice a deep baritone she could feel in her bones. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"The pleasure's all mine," Louise replied, instinctively falling back onto her noble training. "What seems to be the honour, my lord?"
"I am Lord Zydras of the Ministry of Law and Justice, Department of Military Inquiries," he said, then waved his hand dramatically. On que, the hologram shuddered and shrank as a second, more familiar face joined him. "And you already know Director Ban-El."
The Director nodded, looking as tired as she felt, nursing a steaming cup of caff in hand. "Good—" He paused, checking something off screen. "Evening, my lord?"
Zydras quirked his lips. "I do apologize for waking you two up at such an ungodly hour, but we received your report about that nasty bit of business with the terrorist known as the Flame a few days back, and we have a few things we'd like clarified, if at all possible."
Oh, Louise thought distantly, overwhelmed from all the information. I should've expected this. "Of course, my lord. What is it that you wanted to know?"
"Before we begin—" Zydras cleared his throat and fiddled with something off screen— "Record: Jefand Marcidas di Ange verse Tryo Louise tyroqâ Dâṭ Zash regarding the Nar Shaddaai terrorist commonly referred to as 'The Flame.' Addendum 1-A, Imperial date 1337 AEA, 34th of Syn."
Louise recoiled at the technical jargon, particularly her name—but she composed herself quickly. This was an official report, wasn't it? An addendum to the original. Suddenly, she felt a bit like a little goldfish swimming in the sea.
Zydras turned to Louise, eyes blank and uncaring. "I think it would be prudent to focus first on Admiral Jefand Ange's counter claim that you are a traitor to the Empire by having The Flame leave unaccosted and unpunished."
Louise blinked. "What?"
"After your report was sent in, we received another from Admiral Ange. He accused you of aiding and abetting the Flame."
Louise seethed; teeth gritted, nails biting into her palms. The pain and anger were the only things letting her ignore the twisting knot of panic and fear that filled her gut in that moment. "The Empire had tried killing the Flame three times before. It didn't work any of those times. As much as I was confident that we could've dealt with him then and there, I felt it prudent to not test fate." She sighed, giving herself a brief moment to think about what she had to say. "Listen, if you've read my report, you know what the terms of our deal with the Gen'dai was. If he causes more issues, I will personally deal with him. Until then, I may have very well dealt with the issue permanently while demoralizing the entire anti-Imperial movement on this Emperor-forsaken moon."
Ban-El cut in. "It's true. Things have been relatively quiet here since that incident. Relatively."
"If I remember correctly," said Zydras, "it could also be your own work on the matter, Director. After all, I heard you've been putting pressure on these terrorists yourself, right?"
"Entirely true, though there's no way of knowing unless we ask."
Zydras quirked his lips. "Regardless, I think I have enough here for that—unless you have anything else to add?"
"Will anything come of his accusations?" Louise asked, hoping he couldn't sense the fear that welled in her in that moment.
He looked up at her, dully surprised. "Oh? Unlikely. You're a Sith, he's Imperial—" Louise could see the Director rankle at that, though otherwise stay silent— "though it's not like this accusation doesn't have weight," he added with a bit of edge to his tone. "Just pray that you are right and that the Flame does not return. Anything else?"
"Nothing, my lord," Louise replied, finding her eyes suddenly drawn to the floor below her. She knew what the Empire did to traitors…
"Onto other business," he said, looking down at nothingness again. "Now… you critique the decision to have Admiral Ange lead discussions with the Hutts. Why?"
Louise scowled. She thought it was obvious. "He's a raging xenophobe in charge of convincing aliens to help the Empire stand against terrorists of our own making. They couldn't have chosen a worse diplomat had you asked the Grand Master of the Jedi Order to convince the Hutts, instead." She took a breath, then cringed. Perhaps a bit too snarky…
"Arguably," said Ban-El, "the idea was that he would be more critical of any of the Hutts' outrageous demands they may make for their aid on this planet."
Louise rolled her eyes. "The only benefit Ange made to the talks was drawing the Flames attention, to properly illustrate that the anti-Imperial movements care more about hurting the Empire than they respect the Hutts control over this moon."
Zydras nodded his head noncommittally. "I see. Well, that's all then. If we have anything else to discuss, we'll follow up at a later point." He turned his head. "End record."
"Well, if that's all, I'll be returning to bed," said Director Ban-El, and—without waiting for a reply—his hologram died. Why was he here in the first place?
"Well," said Zydras after a pause, looking a bit displeased with Ban-El's sudden departure, "for an apprentice barely four months out of the Academy, you've certainly caused quite the stir."
"Thank you, sir…?" Louise wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not, and she wasn't sure she wanted an answer.
"My—" He paused, dramatically— "superiors are quite interested to see where your career will take you. Enjoy your night."
"Good night, my lord," Louise replied, and his hologram vanished, leaving her alone in the cold, dark conference room. Thoughts filled her mind, wondering who Zydras' superiors were and why they were interested—what did that even mean? Why do things like this always happen to me?
"Ugh. Kark it! I'll think about this later…" she grumbled aloud and left to go back to bed.
Vacation. That's what Louise needed. A vacation.
Nar Shaddaa was kind of a vacation, if you squinted hard enough. It was a new place, the tourist hub was booming, and the possibilities were endless. But, at the same time… she didn't have time. She couldn't do what she wanted because there was always something happening, even in the days where she had nothing going on. Add to that the explosive droids that wanted her head and, well… she didn't exactly have the opportunity to enjoy the nightlife.
Maybe once this was all over she could grab a week to herself? Not a week stuck in the vastness of space, but a week planet-side. Maybe Ziost. Or Dromund Kaas. Yes, that could work. Honestly, she kind of missed it. She was so preoccupied with her training and the whole "assassinate a Sith Lord," thing to actually enjoy anything—the sights and sounds, the clubs, and theatres.
But, no. She wouldn't get a vacation. Not any time soon. Not until she finished hopping across the galaxy at the behest of her enigmatic master. But, it wasn't like the stupid fetch quest was her only problem. It was everyone else's, too!
Founder damn you, Maro Vizhen!
After this, if Louise didn't get some kind of reward—and she'd gladly take slapping the piss-poor excuse of a diplomat as one—she would make Maro pay.
But, for now, it was business as usual. Nine had called. Not via holoprojector, though. Only audio. Apparently, Jacen had done some reconnaissance and they could finally finalize a plan for dealing with the Exchange. Unfortunately, Louise couldn't come.
"Why not?" The tone was calm, not irritated.
Louise drummed her fingers along the arm rest of the Captain's chair in the cockpit. "I have other business to attend to. Sith business." Try as she might, she wasn't sure she nailed the sinister "don't' ask" tone she was desperately trying to get across. The last thing she needed was some assassin digging too deep into her businesses.
The line was quiet on the other end, and Louise absently realized how much she valued holocommunication compared to voice or text. "What about Karin? Has she finally arrived?"
"Of course," Louise replied easily. "I was just about to say that I'd send her over right away. I wouldn't have cancelled were she not here."
"Good. Tell her we'll rendezvous at Jacen's ship. I'll send her the location."
"Why his ship?"
"I'm not letting him onto mine, for one," Nine said as if it were the obvious thing in the world. "And unless you, my lord, or Karin, wish to host…"
"Jacen ship it is," Louise replied immediately. "I'll make sure Karin arrives in a timely manner."
"I look forward to meeting her. Nine, out."
The call died and Louise was left alone. She sighed. "Well, time to get ready."
...
What do you want to be when you grow up?
It wasn't a question Louise heard much during her admittedly short life. In fact, she could probably count the times she heard them on one hand—but the answer was always the same.
"I want to be just like mummy!" It was something she remembered well. She was six. The sun was high on a cloudless spring morning and Cattleya was lounging under the branches of a tree. She wasn't so sick back then. Louise, herself, was running around with the boundless energy of childhood, wielding a stick in hand like some kind of sword.
Oh, how carefree those days were, filled with fun and fantasy. Gibberish incantations left her lips, the dry piece of wood rending through the imaginary flesh of monsters of all sorts. There was always a damsel in distress, or a cocky knight, who needed saving. Sometimes both.
Louise guessed it was a dream every child had, to be like their parents. Mother was strong. Mother was powerful. Her history was as colour as the brightest rainbow—her father's as well! Even now, after all this time, she could remember her excitement after hearing about her mother's knightly exploits: tales of brigands, vampires, and dragons all about.
Karin the Heavy Wind. That's who Louise wanted to be. The Heavy Wind who served her Queen, who served her Country, amour shined with a razor-sharp wand-sword by her side.
Looking hard at her reflection, Louise couldn't help but grimace. Only a few weeks ago had she proclaimed her life a comedy.
So much for becoming Mother. Her traitorous mind mused. I couldn't imagine her seeing me now.
Crimson painted her face, herbs and minerals mixed throughout. It was chunky, like a grotesque mimicry of some beautician's facial mask. Those things were supposed to help clear the skin, make it smooth and clear, and Louise supposed the same could be said here. The only difference was how. And then there was the smell. By the Emperor, the smell!
She had hoped the various herbs would've at least cancelled out some of the fetid odour. They didn't. They really didn't. Instead, it seemed to have combined with the vile scent of iron and death to create some new offensive fragrance. Oh, how she wished Montmorency were here. At least then that stupid girl could do something about the smell.
Though, she might also scream bloody murder at Louise instead.
Memories of Guiche's poorly though out attempt to dabble in alchemy, all to impress his fiancé, came to mind. The hour-long lecture he received could be heard all throughout the Academy. 'Chamber pots aren't suitable caldrons, you blond ponce!' she had cried, and Louise had cursed her inability to silence the bed wetter. 'What do you think you're doing? You don't even have gloves!'
There weren't any chamber pots for Louise to misuse here, however. Instead, she had used L'Inquisiteur's bathroom sink. The remains of chunky blood-herb mix splattered the insides. A bucket sat a few feet away, still half filled with liquid vitae. Her blood-stained dagger, a datapad, and a few empty packets of herbs were scattered about, some with bloody fingerprints covering them.
And the source of the blood? Chilling and unmoving, there lay a canine-like creature with its throat slit.
Cattleya would hate me…
"Do not let your mind wander, Flesh of my Flesh." Lord Kallig's voice was sombre, ethereal. Though guarded his thoughts were, it was clear he was trouble. Louise didn't know why but she guessed it was her own emotions on the matter—emotions, unlike him, she wasn't hiding. "You need to complete the ritual before the blood loses what potency remains."
Stiff and droid-like, she nodded her head. No matter how much her gut twisted at her actions, he was right. She needed to focus.
Eyes closed, she took a deep, shuddering breath and began to intone in Sith. Not the modern strain, but the Old Tongue. Different from modern Sith. More guttural. Harsher. Far harsher on the human throat.
Hands drifted to her face as she prepared herself. The next part was going to be… difficult.
Earlier last week, when she decided on this ritual, Aloysius told her that the first things she'd need was a face. It could be anyone's face, even one she imagined entirely, but she needed a face for it to work. So, while she had drifted from store to store, preparing for the coming weeks, she tried to think of something. She wanted it to be a real face—someone she could remember. It would be easier than creating one from scratch.
It couldn't be an Imperial, certainly none of the Sith—or even Jedi—she knew. It would be problematic if Darth Zash was suddenly walking the Smuggler's Moon. She needed someone nobody would recognize.
So, without further ado, she thought of one. She thought of the shape of their face. Their jaw, their chin, cheeks, nose, their brow. She thought of their eyes, the shade of their hair. Their ears, freckles, and all their little imperfections.
Nostalgia welled—her heart eased that familiar face came to mind—and she crushed it. Crushed that feeling quickly and with extreme prejudice. Focus!
With her face firmly in mind, she summoned the Dark Side of the Force, just as she had while working under Darth Paracelsus, and braced herself. Burning ozone filled the room, cutting through the foul stench of blood, and she braced for agony.
It never came.
The snap and crackling of electricity filled the otherwise silent room—she could feel the cackling arcs of energy leap from her fingers onto her face, wrapping around and needling through the mask and into the skin beneath.
Yet, there was no pain.
Just as unsettling tingle that grew and grew. It was like— Louise wasn't sure. It felt like someone tickling her skin, tickling under her skin, and it grew and grew and grew, until it was like bugs crawling beneath her skin—chittering, biting, scuttling, building and building, second by second, until—
"Gah!" Louise cried, the ritual ending as she ruthlessly began scrubbing her face. "Ugh! Ew, ew, ew! Oh, putain de merde!"
She kicked the durasteel wall under the sink and screamed and cursed. Just one. Stupid. Ritual! She seethed. That was all I had to do! Karking whore of a shitting fuck stain!
Was her toe bleeding? Undoubtedly. Did she care? No. She just screamed and cursed and vaguely she knew Aloysius was trying to calm her down, but she wouldn't listen. She wanted to break something, she wanted to break someone. She wanted someone to feel her pain, yet nothing was around, but that karking mirror!
She froze, fist inches from the glass.
It wasn't her face looking back. For one, the chunky blood-mask was gone, mostly. Rubbed off her face by her own fingers, leaving streaks across skin a shade warmer than her normal pale complexion. Yet, the changes didn't end there.
Carefully, she brought her hand up to inspect.
It was rounder, not the narrow face oft seen in Vallière women. It was as if bone had shifted and reshaped, leaving no connection between the Louise of now and the Louise of a minute ago. Her cheeks were fuller too. Not chubby, but of someone who'd eaten in the lap of luxury. Even her hair and nose were different. Rosy-pink hair which sat in a rather simplistic ponytail was now a rich purple while her eyes looked to be a clear and beautiful lapis.
She…
She looked like…
Henrietta.
Her fingers ran down her reflection, painting the mirror with drying blood.
Why did I choose this face?
She knew why, of course. Nobody would recognise the Princess of Tristain. It was easier to make a face she knew than one of scratch. But… why? Why her? Why not Zerbst. Nobody would know her face, either. Why not Montmorency, or Tabitha, or anyone else?
Still, the ritual worked.
Louise tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace on Henrietta's perfect face. No matter how elated she felt that the ritual wasn't a failure, seeing Henrietta again…
"Done admiring your reflection?" Lord Kallig asked dryly.
She flushed, remembering that she wasn't alone. Damn, stupid idiot! Losing control like that? What's wrong with you? Slouching, she turned to face the long dead Sith Lord and shrugged. "How do I look?"
"You look like a murderer. Clean the blood."
"Yes, Mother." She rolled her eyes and did as asked. It felt wonderful to rid her skin of that disgusting paste, scrubbing it off with blissfully warm water and patting her face dry with a nearby towel. Any longer and it might've dried and then she'd have needed to take a shower and it'd just be a pain.
As she did, Kallig continued, sounding much like her mother as he scolded her. "You need to learn control, Louise," he said. "It's unbecoming."
She'd have rolled her eyes, if she could, but she understood what he meant. Control was important. Control meant the difference between life and death. She should do better next time.
Soon, the blood was gone, and her face was dry. She looked back to her ancestor and asked: "How about now?"
"You're not going to disguise your voice?" he replied. "Your accent will be far too noticeable on a planet like this."
She snorted. "A bit too late for that."
Despite not seeing it, she would bet on her grandmother's grave that he had risen an eyebrow at that. "Why?"
"This isn't the first time I've had this disguise."
"And you didn't think to hide your accent?"
"Hey! It was my first time!"
"People will question it," he said.
"And if they do," she replied, "I'll tell them that she was raised on Ziost by her former Bounty Hunter mother and how she picked up the accent from there!"
"Are you sure that'll work?"
"Won't know until we try it."
He sighed. "You will be the death of me."
"You're already dead," she countered.
"Yes," he said with surprising levity, "and my punishment for past misdeeds is being forced to deal with a bratty descendant."
"Precisely!"
He shook his head, and she would swear she could sense his amusement. "How long until your meet up with Deathstrider and this Nine character?"
With an absent gesture, Louise's datapad flew into her hand. She checked the time. "About… an hour?"
"I advise you head out now and get changed," he said. "Not here but somewhere on Nar Shaddaa."
Louise nodded. That was the plan.
Collecting her dagger, she left the bathroom—absently telling Twovee to clean up the mess—and set about getting ready. Most of her supplies were already packed, so it didn't take long before she was out in the city. Now, she just needed to meet her fellow conspirators.
...
It was sometime later when Louise arrived at Jacen Deathstider's landing bay. It was a seedier part of the district, which somehow didn't surprise her, at some cheap port owned y an irate Togruta. The halls were relatively clean—odd, she expected more trash—but crowed by containers and bleary-eyed spacers of all shapes and sizes, half of which needed a bath.
Jacen's ship was located in a not ideal spot, far from the port-hub, Kappa-3. The door was closed, and a familiar looking figure was leaning on a wall nearby, smoking a cigarra. Nonchalant, casual, oozing confidence. If it weren't for the outfit so sharp it could sink a Harrower-class dreadnought, she would've been some spacer, but those were Imperial threads she was wearing.
Louise approached, nervously checking her own outfit—the armour she had bought a week back. She tried to keep her stride casual but confident, a swagger compared to the heavy-footed march she was used to. If she needed to trick anyone, it was the mysterious Agent and, by the Emperor, she damn well should've practiced beforehand! She was supposed to be Karin, the wildcard. A rough and tumble bounty hunter who'd kill for a credit. Not some Noble-turned-Sith who was, admittedly, way in over her head.
"You lost?" Nine asked, pushing herself off the wall with practiced ease. With a flick of her finger, she sent the cigarrra flying off into the corner where some crates sat. I hope there's nothing flammable there…
Louise coughed, knowing her little disguise would make her voice but wanting to sound rougher, harder. "Is this not the place to discuss bringing down a criminal syndicate?" she asked, easily.
"Karin, I presume?"
"Who else'd it be?"
Nine huffed. "Took you long enough."
Without waiting for a reply—not that she'd get one (Louise was biting her tongue trying to stop herself from snapping back at the insolent Chiss)—Nine turned and typed something into the nearby control panel. A security code, Louise presumed. Not a few seconds later, and the door to the bay hissed open, permitting entry. Following Nine in, Louise was met by a cramp little landing bay. At the most, there was room for a ship and a large fuel tank, and little more. Definitely not for freighters.
Concerning Jacen's ship, it didn't matter much.
A bit on the small side, smaller than hers but big enough to live in, it was beautiful in its simplicity. Blocky and asymmetrical, it had hard lines that were familiar to an Imperial mind, yet different enough to be new and interesting. The cockpit, if the window meant anything, was long and rectangular, jutting from the triangle base, giving a good view to the area around. It was also old. Used.
She liked it.
They got a stone's trow from the ship before Nine turned on Louise, pinning the shorter girl with a glare. Louise stepped back, feeling the hostility radiating from her like the sun.
"A little advice before she continued?" Nine said, spitting the words. "Don't talk about our plans so candidly. There are eyes and ears everywhere on this backwater shit-stain. It would be better if we didn't lose the element of surprise because someone wanted to spit out some pithy one-liner."
Louise flushed, skin prickling at the dressing down. Clamping down on the venomous defence, all she could do was glare back. It wouldn't do to antagonize her allies and, well, Nine was right, as much as she hated to admit it—and that only hurt all the more.
Nine stared for a moment longer, those featureless red eyes boring into the Sith with seething irritation. Then, she spun and continued to the ship. "Fucking amateur," she muttered, before accessing her communicator on her wrist. "Deathstrider! Open the damn ship up. Karin's here."
A moment passed and a groggy voice replied: "Nine Hells, woman! Do you have to be so loud?"
"Don't test me, little man," Nine replied. "Open the ship up."
"Sheesh, yeah, yeah, don't get your knickers in a twist." The communicator went quiet and a minute later the ship's landing ramp hissed as it opened up, revealing the face of an unfamiliar young woman.
Light brown skin with brown eyes, the left one being circled by a crescent shaped cybernetic implant. She was cute, in a messy sort of way, with a dirt white singlet over some dark trousers, and a tangled mass of black hair tied back into a ponytail. "Hey, guys!" she said, chipperly, gesturing for the pair to enter. "I'm Mako, and it's nice to finally meet you, Karin!"
"Thank you," Louise replied, throwing a wave at the girl.
The pair entered the ship, heading to the centre where Mako said Jacen was. Like L'Inquisiteur, the centre was reserved for the lounge. Smaller, naturally, than hers, but liveable
It was based around a circle, a holoprojector in the centre with a green image of Nar Shaddaa floating gracefully above it. Around the holoprojector was a series of leather couches, a bit worn, but obviously well loved. Jacen was sitting on one, huddled up with a nightgown draped around him and clutching a cup of caff.
"Nice ship," she said, waving at Jacen.
Tired as he looked, he beamed like the sun at that. "Finally, someone appreciates my rustic aesthetic!"
Nine glared witheringly, and Mako chuckled.
"So, you must be Karin," he said, taking a sip. "Darth Pinky couldn't make it?"
Louise smiled, tightly, and thanked the Emperor for her mask. Don't throttle your allies, she thought. Don't throttle your allies. "Yes. 'Sith business,' she said."
"Ugh. Hopefully we'll have her on side when we get to planning," Jacen muttered, placing his cup down and fiddling with the holoprojector. The green hologram of Nar Shaddaa flickered, transforming into a map of what looked to be a massive factory.
"Unfortunately, I don't think she'll be able to help there, either," she said.
"What?" Mako and Jacen asked at the same time, both surprised. Nine rolled her eyes.
"I mean," said Mako, a strange mix of disappointed and relieved, "I'm kinda glad. I quite like not being electrocuted, but we could've used the fire power."
"We really could've used the fire power," he amended.
Louise sighed. "It's just the way it is," she said. "She's got cult stuff to deal with."
"Seems legit," Mako said, and flopped on the couch opposite Jacen.
Jacen waved dismissively. "What about her monster?"
"Busy," Louise replied, and this time she wasn't so sure. Khem would've loved to join—to finally get some action after the Flame fight ended inconclusively—but she just wasn't sure this was his kind of mission. "I'll see if I can get her to part with him, but I'm just a mercenary."
"Fine, fine," Jacen sighed. "I guess it'll just be us four."
"So, what's the plan then?" Louise asked.
"Well, I still think blowing everything up would be the simplest—"
Mako cut in. "He's not even joking—"
He gestured to the hologram. "If we plant a few explosives strategically around the facility, we can seriously neuter any of the Exchange's business plans."
Louise rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm listening."
"Well," Jacen began, only to be cut off by Nine.
"Before we begin, I have a question," she said. When nobody challenged her, she turned to Louise with narrowed eyes. "Do you need that helmet to breathe?"
"No?" Louise replied, wondering why she was asking.
"Then take it off."
Louise recoiled. "What? Why?"
"Because I don't trust you," she said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
Taking a breath, and thinking about how she'd reply, Louise said: "The Sith trusts me enough to enact her will."
"I'm not the Sith," said Nine and grabbed her blaster pistol. "Helmet. Off. Now."
"Oi, no shooting on my ship!" said Jacen, grabbing his own gun and glaring daggers at Nine. Mako quietly did the same.
"She could be a spy," said Nine, as if that justified everything.
Louise scowled, her hackles up. "I'm not a spy."
"Exactly what a spy would say," said Jacen.
"Whose side are you on!?"
"Whoever's side will stop people shooting up my ship!"
"Ugh!" She turned to Nine. "What will taking my helmet off do, exactly?"
"It will—" Nine stopped, and Louise realized she didn't know.
"Well?"
"I find it better to know the face of whom I'm dealing. A helmet is a helmet, interchangeable, but a face is harder to change."
"How in—" Louise sruched her face up, trying desperately to figure out Nine line of thought. "How… There are so many Sith with helmets! How do you survive that?"
"Gratingly," Nine replied. "Now take it off."
"Fine!" Louise spat, and removed her helmet, glaring daggers at Nine.
Jacen laughed. "Baby face."
"Oh, go choke!"
"Touchy, touchy!" grumbled Jacen.
"Ignore him," said Mako, sympathetically.
Louise didn't need telling and returned to glaring at Nine. "Pleased?"
"Yes," the Chiss said.
"Good." Louise put her helmet back on.
"Anyway!" said Jacen, drawing everyone's attention. "We have a mission, and for the love of all that is, I have no idea why I'm the more productive member of our little team, but could we please focus?"
"Yes, the mission," said Nine, looking at the hologram. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, as I was saying," he said, giving her a pointed look. "Explosives."
"What happened to 'explosives are a last resort'?" she asked.
Mako shrugged. "Plans change. This is the best we got."
"Yeah," said Nine. "We'll see about that…"
"Well," Jacen began, "we're targeting a spice factory. Spice, for those who don't know, is kind of explosive."
"Well, not explosive," said Mako, "but unrefined spice is, and so are some of the chemicals. And when he says 'kind of—'"
"I mean really explosive."
"Okay, I'm following," said Nine. "We set some around the facility and cause a cascading explosion to level the entire factory."
"Yes, but there's more," said Jacen. "If you haven't noticed, this is just one factory. The Exchange has plenty others."
"And unfortunately for them, they're all located here." Mako fiddled with the holoprojector and the image zoomed out, several more holographic factories surrounding their target. "Welcome to the Exchange's entire spice production."
"We're targeting the primary factory," Jacen continued, "where the spice is first synthesised before being processed in neighbouring factories. If we strike there, we could set the entire district aflame."
"One massive cascading explosion," noted Louise, looking at the various tubes jutting from the factory and leading to the rest.
"Precisely."
"That seems… extreme," Louise said.
Jacen shrugged. "Eh, we're getting paid in the end. Might as well make it a spectacle."
That didn't comfort Louise in the slightest, but she tried to hide her apprehension. "Civilian casualties?"
"Probably not," said Mako. "No civilians would be let anywhere near the district. Nobody knows who anyone works for, and syndicates like this prefer to keep strangers at arm's length."
Oh, thank the Emperor! "Good. I'm here for the Exchange, not innocents."
"This all seems a bit too easy," murmured Nine.
"It isn't," replied Mako, indignantly. "Do you know how much time we put into this plan? We haven't even told you about the munitions depots or the amount of work I'm gonna have to put into splicing into their systems… plus, this plan all falls apart if one of you have no experience being quiet."
"Don't worry, I'm well versed in keeping quiet," said Nine, sounding confident in her abilities. "It's you three I'm suspicious of."
Mako scowled, but Jacen cut in before anything could be said. "Trust me, I know how to keep quiet, and I can vouch for Mako."
"Don't worry about me, either," said Louise. "I can be stealthy when I want to." And if I get caught, I can just make them forget. Or kill them quicker than they can let out an alert.
Nine seemed unconvinced in anyone's abilities, but didn't comment. "Now, what's this about munitions depots?"
Jacen fiddled with the holoprojector again, and several blue arrows spread up throughout the district. "These are munitions depots."
"And if someone were to, say, splice into their systems and disable any safety measures…"
"This is stupid," said Nines, brow furrowed and clearly confused. "Why would they do that? Why do they even have munitions depots here? Haven't they heard of PeHSA?"
"Whose Pehsa?"
Louise recoiled, furrowing her brow. "Uh, what? PeHSA isn't a who, it's a what."
Jacen rolled his eyes. "What is Pehsa?"
"PeHSA," said Nine again. "Personal Health and Safety Administration. You know, the people who make sure walkways have rails to stop you from falling to your death? The people who should have regulations in place to stop munitions storage from being sabotaged in that way? Who should be stopping munitions depots being built near these factories?"
Jacen snorted and looked at Mako.
"Uh… we don't do that here," she said with a laugh. "I mean, kinda? The Hutts fund a public safety administration, but the businesses are self-governed."
Louise and Nines blinked. "What."
Jacen cut in. "Most of the businesses on Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa have their own safety and regulations. Mostly, they keep up with them, but only the basics. Sure, it's dangerous to have munitions depots next to highly explosive chemicals, but this is Nar Shaddaa. You wanna have ammo in case someone tries a hostile takeover."
"Or if four idiots try and blow up their entire operation," Louise muttered.
"True."
The four became quiet for a moment, each ruminating on their own thoughts. It was Louise who broke the silence, feeling confident. "So… Kark it. When we doing this?"
"Three days," said Mako. "I need time to splice into the security systems and make sure we can get in and out. easy."
"Three days," Jacen repeated.
"As in 'day after tomorrow,' or are we talking 'day after the day after tomorrow?'"
"The second one," said Mako.
"Ah, good. Gives me enough time to get my sleeping schedule back in order."
"Anything else to discuss?" Nine asked. "No? Good. Get ready. We'll meet up here at nine-hundred hours."
"Wait—no. Eight-hundred hours?" asked Jacen, utterly flabbergasted. "No. No, no, no. We're not doing that. Eleven. We'll meet up at eleven."
Nine rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Fine. We'll meet up at eleven."
"Thank you!" Jacen beamed.