Symmetry and Imperfection

Part 12

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It was a failing of power that the more one needed to accomplish, the more obstacles presented themselves. If it was not politics, it was skullduggery – though to Vader one meant the other. If not skullduggery, then incompetence. If not incompetence, then it seemed that Fate would find a way of sticking in a fickle finger where you wanted it the least.

A potential apprentice was out there and running riot, if he had read the emanations correctly before she dropped out of his perception. He however found himself up to his ears in politics – and naturally, more double-dealing, lies and underhanded tricks than he had patience for.

All the same, one situation had to be remedied before he could move on to the next. Patience however much accounted a virtue by Jedi and Sith, was never his strong suit.

Moff Eirad was not a politician; he had been one of the most vocal reform advocates in the old Republic, an influential professor of galactic history, but had never been a politician or a businessman. He had, however been a staunchly outspoken supporter of the New Order. His students, some of them from the most powerful and prominent houses, had followed their teacher and in turn influenced their families.

The position of Moff had been a reward for faithful service, intended to be a peaceful retirement in a backwater sector. The scholar had no idea that he had been kept in the dark by a few trusted, highly ranked, and overly greedy staff members. They had been most efficient in lining their pockets with bribes from shipping consortiums and trade officials; not to mention smugglers, syndicate bosses, and rebel sympathizers.

Moff Eirad surprised Vader by being pragmatic about the whole thing, asking if Vader had extracted the information he required, and if they had implicated any other members of his staff. Vader assured the elderly man that all that could be extracted had been and that in every case, and that it had been avarice, not espionage that had motivated the criminals.

Vader stood in the cluttered office as the Moff digested the news. The seemingly frail old man was a Yinari, bald and golden skinned, and as tough as old roots.

"Hmph. I would ask that their pensions be spared to provide for whatever dependents they may have left, by your mercy, my Lord." The frail elder began to rummage through a pile of storage media that littered his desk. "It would be contrary to the ambitions of the New Order if we deprive the younger generation of sustenance and instead feed the rebel ranks with fresh bodies and minds."

"It would be unfortunate, indeed. Some provisions will be made for the education of their dependents as well." The academy on Carida for the boys, the espionage schools on Livraiti for the girls; females were simply so much better at intelligence work.

"Most charitable, Lord Vader." Eirad's search became a little more intense, lifting one pile of this and stacking it on that. "Now, blast it to smoking Nimdal knew where everything was around here; of course, he had reason to, the treasonous little... Not to tax you, but might you spare me some likely lads to fill the vacancies on my staff? I fear that I never looked beyond the assurances of my senior staff that all was well. I apologize for my ignorant error, my Lord."

Eirad was solemn, with the look of one prepared to die. Vader, however, did not fault an academic for thinking like an academic instead of a general. "Your error was made in good faith, Moff Eirad. I will send you a list of qualified candidates."

Eirad nodded, still intent on finding something in the information pile. "And perhaps a likely lass or two? I'm partial to those talented lovelies from Livraiti, I admit."

"They do have special qualities, Master Academician. I will see to the dispatch of one." A qualified spymaster was hard to come by, but if even a rather dreamy individual like Eirad saw the need, it was better to have one in place with his good wishes.

The Moff finally found what he had been so urgently searching for. Dropping the memfile into his reader, his murmur of satisfaction tuned into a slew of archaic yet impressive curses as his private com gave an obnoxious blat.

"By the brazen, bloody, banging balls of Koschei!" Eirad thundered as he slapped the link open. "What the fark do you want, you damned pirate? Looking for a return on the unused portions of bribes? You muck-sucking"

Vader listened, impressed. The genteel and learned professor must have done a tour in the Old Republic Navy; his rhetoric could boil lead.

The recipient of the tirade was a startled-looking, bloated human. Dressed in what might well have started out as an ornamental carpet, liberally adorned with gold braid, and topped of with a hat that belonged in a comic opera, he looked the part of a provincial official with the requisite delusions of grandeur.

"I had nothing to do with it, and in any case I'm not calling about that, you wheezing old fart!" The man appeared not only startled, but also frightened out of his wits. "I have Jedi rioting and murdering in the streets! My Peace Keepers have locked themselves in the stationhouses and refuse to come out! We're losing trade!"

Jedi rioting in the streets?

Eirad looked at Vader, cocking an eyebrow. Vader made a flat gesture with one hand and tapped the side of his head, indicating that he would listen.

"I'm telling you, Eirad! Hundreds of Jedi waving lightsabers and hacking each other and half of Truce City to bits! More are landing as I speak!"

"Oh, calm down, Governor Wellan. I doubt if there's enough left of the Jedi to muster three Padawans and a farmer into the field. Besides, Jedi to not hack each other to bits." Eirad's manner was abstracted as he scanned the memfile and began to highlight certain documents.

"Then explain this! Pull your head out of the dust and tell me that this is three whatchamons and a farmer!" The comic-opera governor was replaced by a very clear holo of three large males in pursuit of a medium-sized male and a small female; all parties involved had drawn blades. The male and female turned back to back as the large males circled. The small female lunged, tucked and rolled, coming up between the legs of one of the predator males and

Eirad winced. Vader shifted position almost unconsciously. There were things that no male could watch without some discomfort and that certainly was one of them.

The medium-sized man appeared to be scolding the woman while attempting to fend off the two remaining males. The woman, by way of response, shrugged and decapitated her injured opponent.

Vader thought that he really was going to have to teach her not to be so fast on the kill.

The man let loose with a flurry of jabs and flourishes, then raised his left hand. The two larger men went flying backwards like flung toys. One struck a wall and slid down it to rest on his rump. The other was carried almost out of the frame, falling to the ground and springing back to his feet in one smooth motion.

The screen was then filled with flying debris, whirling back and forth between the opponents. All concerned exhibited creditable saber work, fending off the larger of the missiles and turning some back on their senders. A large, metal shutter joined the debris and halved one large male opponent on the diagonal from shoulder to hip. The survivor, seeming to have a tiny shred of self-preservation, fled the field as fast as his legs would take him.

The woman, now clearly visible, was hardly old enough to be called such. Vader estimated her age to be a mere eighteen or nineteen years. From the brief touches of his mind upon hers, he had guessed she was somewhat older. Small, slender and striking, she radiated an intensity with each move and breath. Abhaia was a woman with a mission.

The man with her must be the Jedi he had sensed. Vader studied him as well; noting that the man was so absolutely human-average that he might well walk about with a holoboard that spelled out "SPY." He was the type that the Jedi spymasters always recruited because they could disappear not only physically, but also by mimicking the people around them.

The Moff exchanged his astonishment for a jaded look just as Wellan's image returned. "Hmph. I'd hardly call that a riot, Wellan. A farmer and a chit of a girl, Jedi or not. Now, what the hell do you want from me? I'm up to my ass in the mess you've helped to make of my staff. Do you know how bloody hard it is to get literate help these days?"

"I need help. There's more of them than that." The fat man licked his lips, eyes darting nervously. "One walked right into my office, did some kind of Jedi mind trick and made my assistant jump out the window. Told me that if my militia did not cooperate, I'd be joining him. I have bounty hunters gone mad chasing the Jedi and shooting everything in sight. I've lost enough entry tariffs in one day I need intervention."

An upshot eyebrow conveyed Eirad's disdain while at the same time he signaled Vader to wait. "The Empire has no time for the petty disputes in that pit of iniquity that you claim to govern, Wellan."

Wellan licked his lips again, a habit Vader was starting to find most irritating. "I might offer some concessions for your intervention," Wellan offered. "Some names, maybe some whereabouts of some criminal elements, who might work for what interests."

Eirad turned his head to one side, as if pondering this offer, and winked at Vader. "I believe then, Governor Wellan, that I am truly out of my depth. I am neither a soldier, nor am I an Inquisitor. Eirad's voice became ponderous, but Vader saw the predatory gleam in his eye.

This was turning into a fine show, and the old man had a sharp instinct for a tottering power structure. It was his widely read essays on order and justice that had called millions to the cause of order and Empire and incited massive demonstrations against the special interests that had poisoned the Republic. Vader leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, fascinated. The man was no general, but he was a warrior indeed, and a worthy one.

Wellan offered anything in his power, and quite a few things that probably were not, for a Destroyer and troops. Eirad let him babble while assiduously filling out and printing a batch of forms, stamping him with his seal of office, then tucking them neatly into a black folder.

"Are you listening to me?" The now sweat drenched incompetent wailed. "Damn you to the coldest hell on Hoth!"

Eirad managed a befuddled look. "Oh, you're still here? Still on about those pesty Jedi? I told you, Wellan, I'm not qualified to go chasing after them. Not with all the reorganizing, I have to do here. But ah!" A sly smile rearranged the wrinkles of Eirad's face. "My Lord! I have the death warrants all signed and ready for your approval. Spacing a bunch of thieves and traitors houldn't take this much paperwork, should it?"

Vader stepped into pickup range and took the proffered folder without comment. Wellan went from apoplectic to snow white to a sickly gray-green in a matter of breaths.

Eirad now reminded him of a felinid playing with its soon-to-be meal. "My Lord Vader, it seems that my colleague of Kalini has an infestation of Jedi. I simply cannot spare anyone to aid him. Perhaps, if my Lord would assist him in the pacification of Kal Madedo, it would alleviate some of our problems here?"

Wellan was now moaning, face down on the holoplate, cursing the gods, Eirad, and the Jedi in sequence.

Vader appeared to consider, playing the game with Eirad.

"He has personally offered intelligence on criminal elements he feels we would find of particular interest, my Lord."

Wellan began to cry.

"Governor Wellan." At the sound of Vader's voice, the man jerked to attention so fast his chins were still jumping. "At the request of Moff Eirad, a loyal servant of the Empire, I will assist you in the resolution of your problems. I and a complement of troops will be in the Kalini system within twelve standard hours."

It would actually take less time, but he wanted Wellan and those he would seek to warn to think they had a margin of running room.

The man dredged up a sickly smile and made a shallow bow. "As it pleases you, Lord Vader."

"It does not please me, Governor Wellan," Vader raised his hand and Wellan stumbled back as if getting out of the way of a striking viper. "It pleases the Empire to bring order where there is none. We will speak at length upon my arrival. I advise you to make yourself available. It would be most unfortunate if I had to come looking for you."

The overdressed fool fainted, falling backward off the holoplate and terminating the connection.

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