Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior
By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)
DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.
CHAPTER 4
Mon Mothma quietly observed her daughter typing way at the terminal, running through inventories and slicing new quantities in to show lower volumes than there actually was. After each list, she then typed up a "shopping list" of the goods she wanted procured and handed them off to See-Threepio. "Forgive me for asking, Mistress Mara, but my morality and ethical programming is having trouble reconciling your reasons for having me deliver these lists by hand; I must ask again if what we are doing is legal?"
Mara blew a crimson lock of hair off of her nose and did not bother to look up. "Threepio, quit worrying about things your programming cannot understand," she snapped. She mentally kicked herself again for not having those programs wiped out or at least altered. Then again, maybe she needed the golden protocol droid's constant badgering to help maintain her moral center.
"Of course, Mistress Mara, I only meant to point out that the legality of these actions might be considered suspect…"
She looked over at him and raised her eyebrows. "Are you still here? Go! Shoo! Get that flimsy down to Mr. Antilles at the docking bay before it gets late."
Talon Karde slipped in behind Mon Mothma. "She's very dedicated at what she does. I don't think I've ever seen anyone with so much energy."
She smiled at the compliment. "As I said, she's a very special girl."
"Indeed," he said, stroking his beard. He had observed many unusual behaviors from Mara over the past few weeks of working with her. She was a natural talent when it came to world of supply and demand, able to coordinate shipments of stolen Imperial goods from a dozen different sources to a hundred different cells. Each day, more information kept coming in of individual groups that had fallen under the banner of the Alliance and every day, Mara committed the information to memory, leaving no trail for any Imperial to follow.
There were other things about her as well that didn't seem to fit with a president's pampered daughter. Her beauty was only accentuated by the fitness of her body, and every morning she put herself through an exercise routine that would put a Crimson Guardsman in the medical ward. She was an acrobat, a gymnast, a martial artist and a marksman, too.
Mara also seemed to be able to sense when someone was approaching her. Several times during his stay in the presidential palace, Talon had hoped to strike up a meaningful conversation with her, but she stopped him dead in his tracks. Before he could even get through the door, she would call out that she was busy. "She's Force-talented, isn't she?" he asked in a low tone.
Mon Mothma wondered how long it would take Karde to figure it out. The man was sharp, there was no doubt about it, and had been well worth the credits she had to pay to Xizor to secure his cooperation in this venture. Karde had all of the makings of a politician, except that he preferred the more dangerous side of the galaxy as opposed to the senate chamber. "She is not really my daughter. That is all I wish to say."
Talon respected the president's privacy and tucked the information away for further scrutiny. "We will be leaving this week," he announced.
The president sighed. "I had hoped to delay your departure a while longer, for I fear it will be some time before I get to spend any time with her again."
Talon put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You have my word she will be well protected. I have my resources; they are not vast, at least not yet, but I will see to it that she receives the best of care."
Mon Mothma turned to him and saw the mischievous glint in Talon's eye. She had seen such a look only once before and that had been on the face of her good friend Bail Organna. The Viceroy of Alderaan had been just as awestruck when he had first laid eyes upon a young queen of the Naboo. A queen named Padme Amidala. "I'm sure you will, Mr. Karde; however, let me warn you of one thing: Mara is very difficult to read. Do not confuse simple friendship for something else."
Talon did understand. He had no intentions of doing anything untoward in regards to Mara. She was attractive and hard working, but if all she was interested in was a business relationship, that was fine, too. Anything beyond the profits of this venture was simply extra nuts on the spice cake. "I will assign a bodyguard to her and we will have to develop a new identity for her. Being your daughter, she is probably well-known throughout the Empire."
"Not at all," she corrected him. "I have kept her away from both Imperial Center and the holocams since she was sixteen. Her hair is longer, a shade more fiery and she has, well, developed quite a bit since."
"Indeed," Talon said with a small bow. "Nevertheless, I will have an identity made up for her. I have some slicer contacts that will get the job done. Of course, I will have to say she comes from a remote planet. It would help if I knew where her real parents came from…"
Mon Mothma sighed. "Coruscant."
Talon made no comment on the use of the former name of Imperial Center. It did, however, confirm his suspicions about Mara. Coruscant had been the seat of Jedi power in the Old Republic and now he was convinced that Mara was the daughter of a Jedi Knight. The information that Talon no possessed guaranteed him a lavish lifestyle of comfort and debauchery if he chose to use it right now. Hesitation brought the promise of a torturous death, most likely at the hands of Darth Deceptra herself.
The adventure that hung before him was much too tempting. He was quite happy with his current business arrangement. Besides, if the Rebellion did succeed, he would be known as a good friend and that essentially meant more profit.
"I have contracted the services of a Wookie hunter named Chewbacca. He is a proud warrior among his people that wishes to see the galaxy." Talon produced a small data pad for Mon Mothma's inspection. "As you can see, he is utterly loyal and comes with the highest possible recommendations. His payment is to be Chandrillian support for an upcoming bill in the Senate. Seeing as how your two peoples have always gotten along anyway…"
She nodded her approval. "I know of the bill and I was going to provide my support regardless, though I am afraid it still will not pass."
Talon's eyes sparkled, telling Mon Mothma that the younger man had more information than he was letting on. "Let's just say that several Wookie warriors are being contracted out this year. It is a very important bill and the Wookies are calling in all of the favors owed to them by their people."
"He is to be Mara's bodyguard?"
Talon nodded and accepted his data pad back. "He has sworn an oath of protection; it does not carry the same weight as a life debt, but he will loyally watch over her until she dismisses him." He noted that she seemed to relax a bit. The Wookies were fierce combatants, but were also renown throughout the galaxy for their close family ties and dedication to honor. Few species could claim such distinction.
Certainly not humans, she thought. "When will he arrive?"
"We are meeting him on Corellia," Talon remarked. "We are stopping there to pick Mara out a ship to use for her own personal business. If she is going to be my second-in-command, then she needs to be out there checking out the things that are going on." He then smiled sheepishly. "Will she require a lightsaber, madam?" he asked, digging for information.
Mon Mothma returned the grin. "Only to defend you from me if you hurt her."
The son of Darth Maul sat alone in his mother's office, a small room with a single light and a table that Malakie had pushed up against the wall. He sat cross-legged in the center of the room, the light off so that he was enveloped by the darkness. Still, if any person were unfortunate enough to step into the room while the young man was in his meditative state, the y would note that an even darker blackness seemed to radiate from him, threatening to overwhelm the natural absence of light.
Malakie's mind drifted away from his physical body by using a Jedi meditation technique. The Jedi taught that complete relaxation was necessary to achieve oneness with the Force. Malakie found that by focusing his rage and anger into one single thought, he could achieve mastery, not symbiosis, with the Force.
He took the painful feeling of abandonment he felt for being left to wither and die on Dathomir and combined it with the great sorrow he felt for never having even gotten o know his father. Over this he placed his rage towards Emperor Palpatine, who Malakie felt had turned away from the true path of the Dark Side. The stories he had heard of the Great Sith War and the Freedon Nadd Uprising had convinced that the most powerful of dark Lords were warriors, not politicians that his behind their operatives. If Palpatine was so mighty, why did he not face the Jedi himself when they went to Korriban? Had Palpatine been there with his disciples, then maybe Darth Maul would be here to train his son.
Malakie's conciseness floated up and out of the prison facility, riding the tendrils of the Force. Dathomir was rich in life and Malakie's mind's eye could see that life reaching up to the stars, welcoming the nourishing sunlight from the system's primary star. He felt the pulse of life in the upper atmosphere and past the canopy that held in the life-giving oxygen.
Still farther his mind came up against another, more subtle intrusion into the Force and at once Malakie realized that this was the mind of Palpatine. Palpatine maintained control over his forces, directed their actions, by constantly sending a stream of minute impressions throughout the galaxy. He did not control as so much suggest courses of action. The minds of most military officers and loyal citizens had been stupefied through the New Order's propaganda campaign.
Malakie briefly considered severing Palpatine's thin, thread-like link to the fleet of Admiral Zsinj and smiled when he thought of the chaos that would ensue. Zsinj himself was probably not under any type of suggestion; Malakie's impression of the man was that he was a career military officer with a strong dedication to the Empire. Loyalty did not necessarily mean a particularly strong mind.
Malakie had seen pictures of star destroyers but now his Force-empowered senses took in the whole of the massive vessels. He could feel the life from within them, the thousands of beings that resided on board. Each one had a different motive for being there, a different outlook on life and a whole different set of principles. Another being would be fascinated, but Malakie was just simply bored. They were herd animals, waiting to either be moved to a new pasture or to be led to the Empire's slaughterhouse; they mattered little to him.
It took him some time to determine which vessel Zsinj was on, but he found it easily enough once he determined that Palpatine's thoughts intensified around one certain ship. Somehow, Malakie heard the name of it, the Wraith. It was a Imperial-Class vessel, a wedge-shaped harbinger of death that hovered over the blue-green-brown world of Dathomir. Malakie skirted past Palpatine's influence and sent his own mind racing through the passageways. He felt the discipline of the stormtroopers, the brashness of the fighter pilots and the dismay of the prisoners.
He stopped suddenly and backtracked, reaching out again for the minds of the prisoners. He found it odd that they would be here in space and not down in the facility on the planet and he wondered if they were to be new inmates or were they simply military prisoners. A quick study of their drug-hazed and pain-filled minds told him all he needed to know. They were Rebel agents found out to be hiding within the military structure itself.
Hiding in plain sight had been how Palpatine had amassed his power. Posing as a simple senator from Naboo, the man once known as Darth Sideous had weaved an intricate plan of deceit and deception that had, in one fell swoop, allowed him to create and army and use it against the hated Jedi. Only they Jedi had been strong enough to keep the Sith at bay and it was Darth Maul's famous victory over Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi on Naboo that had been the catalyst for the New Order.
Malakie felt in his bones that had his father been killed on Naboo, then Palpatine would never have achieved power in the Republic senate. Without a worthy apprentice, Palpatine would have died in obscurity and taken the Sith down with him. It was Palpatine's arrogance that infuriated Malakie and gave him even more power in the Force.
His mind traveled between the molecules and atoms of the decks and bulkheads of the star destroyer, seeking the mind of the commander of the Imperial fleet. Zsinj's greedy thoughts sang out to Malakie, drawing him in like a siren's call. The would-be Sith made contact, repulsed to find Zsinj in the process of coupling with one of his female clerks. Such an act during a time of readiness showed weakness and it was the path that Malakie needed to travel into the roots of Zsinj's brain.
Lust was a powerful weapon if used correctly, as Malakie had learned in his own escapades on Dathomir. It wasn't that Zsinj was having sex; Malakie understood the baser needs of all sentients. It was that he was doing it in the middle of a duty cycle, for his mind was absorbing information from every person he passed in the Force. In the time span of seconds, Malakie had absorbed so much knowledge that he feared he would pass out.
Truly his rage was up now and he tore through that which was Zsinj's personality and decimated it. Like a carnivore tearing into the meaty flanks of its prey, Malakie gorged himself on that which was Zsinj. In the blink of an eye, Malakie found himself carnally engaged with the clerk, seeing what Zsinj was seeing, feeling what the officer felt.
The power of the Dark Side made him strong and by thought alone, Malakie had Zsinj reach out and strangle the clerk while she was in throes of passion. He felt her life slip away, but there was no dismay from Zsinj, for Zsinj was gone. All that he was now resided in the brain of Malakie.
There was a price, though, because he would have to maintain the link with Zsinj until he could secure a shuttle and bring it to the planet. Eventually, he would have to release the man and leave him in his vegetative state. That didn't bother Malakie because now he saw Zsinj for what he really was, a small man who his behind his uniform. All of his life, Zsinj had used privilege as a sword and a shield and Malakie had nothing but contempt for the man.
Somehow, he knew that Zsinj's thoughts would be with him forever and a valuable lesson was learned. He possessed the power to pull the man from the brain, but that man lived with him forever. Deep in the back of his mind, Malakie could hear the faint voice of Zsinj screaming in rage at the rape and violation of his life. Malakie took that rage and added it to his own. Had he been properly trained, he would have realized that the stealing of the mind technique was very rarely used by the Sith for it had dire consequences.
Eventually, Zsinj's state would be discovered and an investigation would be launched. No doubt, Palpatine would dispatch his whore Darth Deceptra. Malakie almost welcomed the chance to confront his father's killer, but as an untrained adept, he knew that he could not win. One day, according to his mother, who seemed to have a new spring in her step, they would triumph over Palpatine and rule the galaxy.
One that day, Malakie would have his vengeance.
The body that was called Zsinj got up and moved away from the still warm corpse of the clerk. The body had no memories, no remembrance of emotions shared, only the tingling sensation that came from sexual union. Quickly, under the complete control of the mind of Darth Maul's son, the body dressed and exited the room.
The two stormtroopers at the ready looked into the room and saw the body, but said nothing. Later, they would dispose of it and file it away as an unfortunate training accident. That was their job, after all; they protected Zsinj's body and reputation. Nothing was allowed to endanger any aspect of one of the Emperor's favorite officers.
The mind controlling the body moved briskly down the passages, relying on the memories of the man who once was the body to guide it to the bridge. Any unfortunate to step in the admiral's way was bowled over, receiving a kick from the stormtroopers for good measure as they went by. Zsinj's actions were not normal, the stormtroopers decided, but remained silent as they had been trained. Of the admiral decided to kill everyone on board, the white-armored soldiers would help him and even turn their weapons on themselves if so ordered.
On the bridge, the body spoke aloud, not to any person in particular. "I want a shuttle sent down to the planet right now to get the warden and her son. I wish to see them immediately."
An officer stepped up and spoke to the admiral in a lowered voice. "Sir, our standing orders from the Emperor state that we cannot bring any of the Nightsisters up off of the planet surface."
A memory flickered in the body's brain. "Commander Palleon, who is in command here?"
Palleon stuck his chin out. "You are, sir."
"Then carry out my damn orders!" the body screamed. Palleon jumped back a few steps, a normal reaction when one looked at the expression of rage on Zsinj's face. The other officer turned and nodded into the pit, the lower area where the ship's functions were carried out. Within a few moments, the body was pleased to see a Lambda-Class shuttle shooting down towards the planet's surface.
