Symmetry and Imperfection

Part 2

~

Vader stood on the bridge of the Star Destroyer Triumphant, watching out of the corner of his eye - and with no little amusement - as two ensigns tried to decide who was to approach him. To all that might look, Vader was simply brooding.

Over what that might be, none of them really wanted to know.

The two fine products of the Academy were reduced to a round of Blade, Rock and Cloth, best two out of three, the loser to deliver the message.

Cloth/Rock.

Cloth/Cloth.

Blade/Rock.

Blade/Cloth.

The winner quit the area so fast that he nearly left a hole in the air. The losing ensign glared at his fellow officer's retreating back while muttering curse-laden passages from Kaaffaki epic war hymns.

The youngster composed himself and then approached Vader, stopping at attention and just out of arm's reach.

"My Lord Vader, sir."

Vader turned and regarded the ensign, letting his the sound of his respirator fill silence until a faint sheen of sweat appeared on the officer's upper lip.

"Ensign Jachim Garza, report."

It always unsettled the new junior officers when he knew their names. This one paled, but did not waver from his parade-ground formality.

"My Lord Vader, there is a message from the Governor Simbalden of Lorres. They've found another dead Jedi." The ensign hesitated and then added, "Well, they've found most of him, that is."

Most of him? Interesting.

Vader spoke quietly, "Rear Admiral Ozzel."

If the senior officers under Vader's command wished to keep breathing, it meant keeping an ear tuned; he did not like to repeat himself.

Vader watched in distaste as the Ozzel crossed the bridge. A lackluster career spit-shined by political allies and ambition had earned him a spot in Vader's battle group. How long the man would last in that position was a matter of debate. Ozzel's conservatism and over-cautious nature might keep him alive if he made no egregious errors.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"I will attend to this matter personally. You will continue to Algeda and assist Moff Eirad with pacification efforts."

Algeda was a system of vital economic importance; six asteroid fields rich with metals surrounded a red giant, and though the moons around the three gas giants in the system were seriously unstable, they provided rare gasses in vast quantity. The primitive life forms surrounding thermal vents on one moon were a vital additive to every vessel's environmental system. Massive refineries and foundries moved about the system, turning raw material into commodities for the Outer Rim shipbuilding trade.

Those commodities had been turning up in Rebel shipyards and arms shipments.

Vader dismissed the ensign with a curt gesture and departed the bridge as Ozzel murmured something appropriately obsequious.

Pacification was a prime duty of the Imperial Navy. At this point in thier careers most of the officers could accomplish the mission while half asleep. Unless the Algeda system was infested with Jedi, Vader could just as easily com this in.

However, there were political considerations. Vader was not prone to false humility; he was the second most powerful man in the Empire. He would, someday soon, be the most powerful. That meant his actions or inaction spoke for the interests of the Empire. While Algeda was important, one of his primary missions was the utter eradication of the Jedi.

An express tube running the length of the ship took him directly to the main flight deck. He did not need to check if his personal shuttle was ready, it always was. He thought it inconvenient that TIE fighters did not yet have hyperspace capabilities, the small craft were powerful, highly maneuverable and boasted heavy armament for their size.

The Lambda - class shuttle dropped out of the main bay and unfolded its stabilizers. Vader moved out of the destroyer's range and reoriented for the jump to hyperspace.

~

Abhaia lay on the steel of the deck and tried to think past the pain in her head. Her vision narrowed as if she was looking down a long tube.

Concussion. Blast. How did he sneak up on me?

Her Healer's training kicked in and she dove within herself, seeking to minimize the damage. The external injury bled furiously, but the internal damage was her primary concern. The dura held tight to the skull, but had minor tears from the shear forces generated by the blows. Her brainstem was uninjured, but the rotation of her brain in relation to the point of impact had started a hemorrhage. She was grateful that there was no tearing of the axons or the myelin sheath, those were complicated and time-consuming repairs.

She worked quickly, letting her body stay limp and unthreatening. It was going to be a hasty repair job, but she did not have time for anything else.

As if from a great distance, she felt a boot impact against her ribs that flipped her over.

"Knocked her stupid, Master. She'll give us no trouble."

"Any sign of the infant?"

"No, my Master. None at all."

Even as she worked, concentrating on the utter serenity required for healing, a fury she had never dreamed existed began to bloom within her.

Grandfather gave his orders. Find the child, kill whomever might raise a fuss, and use it to ensure Abhaia's cooperation.

The damage was stabilized and her healing powers altered under the tide of her rage. Even so, she remained quiescent even as the second man grabbed her by the front of her tunic and lifted her.

"I can't believe that this little thing gave the others all that much trouble," he sneered. "Look at her! She's pocket-sized!"

"Do you think that every Darksider has to be built like a wall and wearing black armor, Karris?"

Abhaia felt herself lifted and dumped across the second man's shoulders like a sack of grain.

"Fool! Did you even search her? She's armed!"

"She's all but brain dead, you old coward!" Karris turned and began to walk away. "Look at you, afraid of a woman!"

Abhaia gathered her power and struck at her assailant.

Seizing Karris' brain with the Force, she set about ripping it apart. In less than a second, the centers of the brain that controlled speech and voluntary movement were dead, the neurons overloaded and fried beyond repair. As he dropped, she rolled from his shoulders and came to her feet with Grandmother Isabail's lightsaber in hand.

~