Author's Notes: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! 13 is my lucky number... and here we meet HK-47. That little interlude last chapter wouldn't have happened if I hadn't broken my collarbone at a Hallowe'en party... three nights of parties, I broke it dancing at 4am Sunday morning, and on the Sunday night I was up and dancing again. Go figure... some things, you like them enough that you go back even when they hurt you ::pointed look at Malak:: my shoulder still hurts a bit, but not enough to stop me writing! In fact, it's what killed my writer's block! As for chocolate awards, tell me where I "borrowed" the language concept from (here's a hint: the crossover potential for its spinoff is astounding! I'm playing along with that idea).
Rascarin: It wasn't a quote. The quote was something I first used in ch9, and an unintentional red-herring. The correct answer was the mention of Squibs, which are apparently a race in Star Wars, but are also a group in HP. And believe me, I'm trying to be more evil - I'm really trying!
Dark Lord Daishi: Glad you enjoyed it. I am very into the concept of sado-masochism, so I greatly enjoyed writing about the "distractions" there. And if I could break my collarbone dancing, Malak can break his shoulder "doing that" :p
Cantankerous 84: HK-47 is in this chapter. And my theory is that HK can speak Sandpeople not for any programming Revan added, but because it was one of the languages of the slaves to the Builders... I mean, the Sandpeople were once slaves to the Builders, so Star Forge droids would automatically be able to communicate with them. Never apologise for long reviews, Tank - I love long reviews.
snackfiend101: Ahem, which HP reference did you spot? Because one of them was a red-herring :p
Prisoner 24601: ::drools at long review:: Saul isn't the Admiral... yet. Actually, being DS isn't what stopped them using their healing powers - it was abusing those powers that did it - there is a slight difference. Glad you liked ch11 - I was pleased with the points you brought up there, too. I also enjoyed beating up Derrin, however, he cannot be killed off (much that Malak may wish it), for two reasons, one of which is that he provides much-needed comedy in an otherwise uber-dark fanfic.
Firera: Yeah, Cassie's in deep Bantha poo-doo now, isn't she?
Darth Arachne: Yes, and I enjoyed making him suffer, mwahaha! Jedi Sentinels are underrated, really. Heeeere's HK ::cackles and points to the chapter below:
F-15 Eaglestrike: No, see what I said to Rascarin ::points to the top of the review-responses list:: Actually, there is a chance of a KotOR2 fic from me, but you'll have to wait till I've got the game and played it a few times - I don't get it till Feb 11th. Derrin isn't going to be killed off any time soon, though... in fact, he shall survive Revan's rule as Sith Lord entirely (that, I know for certain.
RollingSkull: Thank you, Skull, darling, you flatter me. Yes, the term "unhealthy relationship" is kind of an understatement, actually... though if you remember what happened to me at Halloween, and I was only dancing :p - Derrin lives for a reason, though, so much as some would like me to kill him off (Malak among them), I can't... yet.
"Oh, send me off to war,
In a far away land,
I never knew existed.
Subjected me to,
All the horror and pain,
Until my mind is twisted.
And what if I fail?
Will you put me in jail,
For a murder I will not commit?
'Cause you don't understand,
'Till there's blood on your hands,
That it's time to forget and forgive.And those who return,
Come back only to learn,
That they're hated by those who they loved.
'Cause you're not satisfied,
'Til there's thousands who've die,
And your anger is paid for in blood"
-Johnny Hates Jazz, I Don't Wanna Be A Hero.
x x x
Chapter 13 - Plotting
Finding clothing that day would have been much more difficult than it had been on Korriban. He was lucky Revan was in a generous mood... she went to the Star Forge and came back with what she called 'customised armour' for him. It was a full-body-suit made of red leather... if he weren't bloody terrified of the woman now, he'd have refused the 'gift'. But he wasn't keen on running around the Defiant naked, to get back to his own quarters... and he was even less keen on starting an argument with her, after their last duel.
x x x
Over the next few weeks, Revan played with the Star Forge, creating vast numbers of ships, and manning them mostly with droids she also manufactured using the Star Forge. Malak made a point of learning the Rakatan language during this time. He wanted to be able to make his own toys with the Star Forge, without asking Revan's permission like some frightened schoolboy asking the teacher if he can go to the bathroom.
The language was actually fairly easy to learn, once he put his mind to it. It was mathematically based, which suited Malak's skills nicely. A language based on atomic structure, numerical processes, and simple algorithms. A language any half-decent mathematician or scientist could decipher given a few months. Once he realised that, he didn't even need to ask Revan for translations any more. Simple logic translated for him.
Malak then started exploring the station himself, while Revan continued to mass-produce warships. None of the lowly soldiers were allowed on the Star Forge, and only a few ex-Jedi accompanied Revan. Malak could easily get away with exploring the deserted decks alone, since Revan could always tell where he was if she chose to check up on him. He hated being watched that closely, and was grateful for the privacy supplied by the greater distance between them.
He was on one of the lower decks, near the processing plants of the Star Forge, when he found... what looked like an ancient droid. A coppery-crimson colour, like all the droids this station produced. Warily, he approached it. It looked like a standard service droid, really. "/Activate./" he said, in Rakatan - the standard keyword to bring the droids to life.
It rose from its slumped position, and looked up at Malak, "/I am service and repair droid number eighty-four. Assigned to lower level maintenance. How may I serve?/" the insectoid droid - SR-84 - asked, in what was probably a Rakatan equivalent of the camp voice most protocol and service droids seem to use.
Malak sneered at it - he never did like droids in general, and Star Forge droids seemed to annoy him even more than most. "/What can you tell me of the Star Forge?/" he asked the droid flatly.
"/The Star Forge is the glory of the Builders, the apex of their infinite empire. It is a machine of invincible might, a tool of unstoppable conquest./" the droid quoted.
"/So I've heard./" Malak said coldly. If there was a single droid this station built that didn't spew that line, he'd be very surprised. "/I mean of the functions of the Star Forge. You are a maintenance droid serving here, you must know something./"
"/Affirmative./" the droid answered.
"/So tell me how this cursed thing works./" Malak growled, getting irritated by the droid already... he really did not like Star Forge droids.
"/The Star Forge is powered mainly by an artificial point singularity-/" the droid began, but Malak interrupted.
"What the hell?!" He didn't know any swearwords in Rakatan... yet. He made a mental note to learn to curse in Rakatan... multilingual obscenities were a hobby of his. "/A point singularity?/" he asked, horrified - the Star Forge uses a bloody black hole for its power source?! That's not good, no matter how nicely you word it! "/How does the station not collapse or blow up?/"
"/The singularity was created, is maintained, and is controlled, using the elemental power the Star Forge draws upon./" translation: the Force, "/The Star Forge draws physical matter from the star below to build its creations, but its main fuel sources are the singularity and the elemental powers./"
"/How do you define these elemental powers?/" Malak asked, "/There are many aspects to the elements, which ones are you specifically referring to?/"
"/It was calculated by the Builders that more power could be drawn from elemental forces focused around anger, ambition, and passion. These are the elements harnessed most prominently by the Star Forge, however any elements available are used. Compassion and love also proved to be strong sources, but were scarce among the Builders, so are not given preference./"
"/We refer to the elements as the Force./" Malak informed the droid, "/And tell me... how does it harness the Force for a fuel-source?/"
"/This unit is unaware of the specifics, only of the fact that that is what is done. This unit is only responsible for maintaining lower levels utilised for construction and repair of spacecraft and utilities./"
"Figures." Malak muttered sulkily. The one droid he finds on this bloody station, and it can't tell him anything beyond... how fucking dangerous it was to be sitting on this thing. A black hole, damn it! "/What would happen if the containment for the singularity were damaged?/"
"/That could only occur if the Star Forge was greatly damaged. Such damage would require total destruction of primary and secondary containment, main stabilisers, orbital alignment centres, and all thirteen failsafes. If this were to occur, the singularity would collapse upon itself causing a subspace disturbance that would, over the course of one orbit of the third planet, cause the star to nova./"
Thirteen failsafes? Overkill, much? But given the type of fire they're playing with, overkill is good.
'Malak, I've got a new toy. Come up to the viewing deck, would you?'
'Yes ma'am.' he thought sarcasm in the title he chose for her.
'Call me that out loud and I'll rip your tongue out.' Revan replied casually, 'Oh, interesting detail about the black hole. Nice to know.' there was some sarcasm there, but not much.
It seemed her genuine liking of the station and safety precautions used on the singularity outweighed her distaste for the idea of sitting on top of a bloody black hole. Malak's opinion leaned towards wanting to leave, and go sit at the far end of the galaxy as far away as possible from the black hole.
'Cute. Cowardly, but cute.' Revan interrupted his thoughts, 'Now get your ass up here... I want you to see my new toy... then maybe I could play with you, afterwards.'
He liked the sound of that. He told the droid to go back to whatever it was doing before he showed up. It deactivated. Useless pile of scrap metal. Malak really hated Star Forge droids. He turned and made his way quickly towards the viewing deck.
x x x
When he got to the viewing deck, he found Revan tinkering with... a droid. A humanoid one, this time. "What's this?" Malak asked, eyeing the droid suspiciously.
"It's my new toy." Revan answered cheerfully, "Its designation is HK-47."
"Dare I ask what its function is?" Malak asked coldly.
"Not what you're thinking." Revan chided, smirking, "HK-47 is a Hunter-Killer droid. An assassin."
"Who are you planning to kill? And why not do it yourself?" Malak asked flatly, "I'd kill them for you if you just didn't want to get your hands dirty." he added bluntly, frowning at the droid.
"I didn't have anyone specific in mind, actually." Revan said blithely, "But the HK class of droid, from the Star Forge databank, is equipped with powerful stealth technology and programming. Discretion is something you lack, and something I discarded when I became the Dark Lord."
Malak shrugged, "True, I suppose." doesn't mean he had to like this new droid.
"HK-47." Revan addressed the droid, "This is my Apprentice, Lord Malak."
Lord? Well, he did like the sound of that. Why call him it, though?
'Because, we are Sith Lords... you are my Apprentice, I am your Master... but you outrank everyone else besides me, so you are also a Lord.' Revan answered for him, amused. "Say hello, HK."
"Quotation: Hello, HK." the droid replied obediently.
Revan rolled her eyes, "HK-47, you know exactly what I meant, now greet my Apprentice in a civilised manner." she hissed.
"Statement: Greetings, lowly minion of the Master." HK-47 said, addressing Malak.
Malak's right eye twitched slightly, as he glared at the droid, "Hello, HK-47." he growled, in a clearly forced attempt at a polite tone.
"Query: Master, may I kill this one?"
"No, HK. You may not kill anyone unless I order you to do so." Revan said calmly. She then turned to Malak, smirking under that mask of hers, "Bloodthirsty, isn't it?"
"Very." Malak said, eyeing the droid with a slightly less disdainful glance. Bloodthirsty is good. Maybe this droid isn't so bad.
"I programmed it personally." Revan explained, "So its personality reflects mine. Although, it does have a distain for organic lifeforms that I can't seem to be able to remove... not that I want to, mind you. It makes it more efficient at killing things, if it believes organics to be inferior beings."
"Indeed." Malak said flatly, "What's with the 'lowly minion' remark, though?"
"Good point." Revan said, turning to HK-47, "HK... Malak is not a lowly minion. He is the most powerful and skilled of my... ahem, minions... so he most certainly is not 'lowly'."
Malak rolled his eyes at that. HK-47's eyes flashed red, and it looked at Malak, in an evaluating way, "Concession: As you wish, Master. Correction: Greetings, favourite minion of the Master."
"That's better, HK. Malak is definitely my favourite."
"It's still calling me a minion."
"That's what you are, isn't it?" Revan asked flatly, "I like the word minion, it's why that word ended up in HK's programming. Although, you'd think it'd have a healthy respect for its creator... but I'm organic, so it has this... attitude problem."
"Objection: I am making every effort to behave in an appropriately subservient manner, Master!" the droid all-but whined.
"Objecting to a statement made by your Master is hardly 'appropriately subservient'." Malak muttered.
"My thoughts exactly, Malak." Revan smirked slightly, "And you're lucky you're my favourite, because speaking out of turn also comes under the category of irreverent to your Master. Most of my minions would be in a great deal of pain for that. But I like you."
Malak smirked slightly, "Thank you. I guess."
"HK, let's have a demonstration of your skills." Revan said calmly, "There is a young Jedi man in the holding cells on the Leviathan. Observe." she brought up an image on the viewscreen. The young man who had talked back to her, before Sam made his last stand. "I shall release him, and you shall track him down. Apply non-lethal force - this is merely a demonstration for Malak and myself to see your abilities, it is not a real mission. I shall repeat for emphasis - don't kill him, merely incapacitate him."
"Acknowledgement: As you command, Master." the droid said, seemingly disappointed at not being allowed to kill its target.
"Go now." she said, pressing a button to remotely open the cell the young Jedi was held in. He glanced around warily, then stepped out of the cell. He seemed not to believe his luck, but then he left the holding area pretty quickly. HK-47 departed the viewing deck.
"You don't want the young man dead?" Malak asked, surprised.
"He promised that he would join me. This is as much a test for him as it is for HK. If he tries to flee, I shall know he was insincere. If he seeks out one of my lieutenants to inform them of the 'power glitch' in the holding area, then he was honest in his promise to join me." Revan smirked as she turned to face Malak, "The boy was merely spouting the crap that the Jedi had taught him... I have made him see sense, now, and I am sure he will pass the test. The question is, will he pass before HK finds him? An interesting little game, I thought."
"Very interesting." Malak agreed, also smirking.
"And non-lethal methods should be quite the test for my little homicidal mechanoid." Revan said. She took several steps towards Malak, so she was right in front of him, looking up at him, "Meanwhile, however, we have some time to ourselves..."
"I wanted to ask you something." Malak said. He was well aware of what Revan was implying, but he really did need to ask this, "How do we know the Republic soldiers who serve Admiral Zordoc will also serve us loyally?"
"We don't." Revan said flatly, "Though Zordoc has pledged allegiance to us. We shall have to test them."
"What sort of test?" Malak asked her. She was so close to him, he could feel her body-heat, imagined he could feel her breasts brush against his chest. He moved his hands up to her shoulders, and gently pulled her towards him, so she leaned against him.
"The bloody sort. I'll think of the details later." she murmured.
Revan turned her face to her right, and reaching her right hand up to remove her mask, which she clipped to her belt as she had done when they had landed on the Rakatan world. She tilted her head back, and stood up onto the tips of her toes, as Malak leaned down to kiss her.
At that exact moment, a fraction of a second before their lips met, the commlink on Revan's wrist chirped loudly. She growled, and stepped back from Malak, quickly hitting the audio only button on her commlink, "What do you want?" she snapped.
"Declaration: I have completed the assignment, Master." HK-47's metallic voice replied, almost cheerfully, "The subject is incapacitated."
Revan blinked several times, and looked up at Malak, "That was quick..." he muttered.
Revan nodded slowly, in agreement, before speaking into her commlink, "Where is he?"
"Answer: Unconscious on the floor." HK-47 replied, "Current location, Leviathan prison deck."
"Damn." Revan muttered, "That droid is... efficient."
"I'll say." Malak said, staring at the commlink on Revan's wrist, slightly stunned by the droid's efficiency. Revan was staring blankly, though Malak could sense her mind whirling, trying to think what to do now, "Perhaps we could send the boy to the medical bay, and see what he does when he wakes?"
"Good idea, Malak." Revan said, smiling, "I had thought the droid would have taken longer than that."
"Hell, even with the Force to make me run faster, I don't think I'd have made it to the Leviathan docking level that quickly, never mind the prison deck." Malak said bluntly.
"Indeed." Revan agreed. She then spoke into her commlink again, "HK, take the 'subject' to the medical wing of the Leviathan. Leave him there, in the doctor's care. Do not kill anything. Return here as soon as you have done that."
"Acknowledgement: As you command, Master." HK-47 replied. The commlink then deactivated. Malak would swear that droid sounded dejected and resigned. Probably because it was given the order not to kill anything. It seemed keen to kill things.
"Yes... I must let it kill something soon. I want to see how it performs in a real scenario." Revan said quietly.
Disconcerting, much? Malak really did not like when she read his thoughts like that.
"Too bad." Revan said blithely. Malak frowned at her, for a moment, but he stopped scowling when Revan took a step towards him, "Now... where were we?" she asked, leaning against him, and looking up at him, smirking.
Malak smiled, and leaned down to kiss Revan, holding her against him by the waist, so she couldn't pull away from him this time. Not that she tried, anyway. She returned the kiss eagerly. He could sense her Force awareness, scanning the room and deciding that one of the ramps up to the upper level of the viewing deck was the nearest 'appropriate location', as her thoughts put it.
'Can't you wait to get back to the Defiant?' Malak asked her, amused. He held her in place, when she tried to pull him towards the ramp. Then pulled away from the kiss, and smirked at her.
"No, I can't wait." she said flatly.
She grabbed him by the front collar of his cloak, and dragged him, using the Force to push him from behind, towards the ramp in question. She spun him round, and pushed him down onto the ramp. Malak didn't put up any resistance, beyond some almost playful mock-struggling, which was utterly belied by the grin on his face, as Revan pinned his wrists to the metal-grilled floor. She leaned over him, and kissed him hungrily.
Malak tried to free his hands, with the intention of rolling over on top of Revan. He didn't want to be pinned down on the uncomfortable floor. He didn't mind her being on top when they were on a comfortable bed, but the grating on this floor was cutting into his back already.
But Revan wouldn't let go of him. She was using the Force to hold him down. After a few seconds, he shrugged, and stopped trying to struggle, still grinning as Revan started to fumble with his clothing. In Malak's mind, this was the major drawback of these clothes - they were a bloody nightmare to put on and take off. Revan was beginning to realise this, now.
She appeared to be ready to lose her temper and start tearing Malak's clothes to pieces, when the door hissed open just in time. Revan froze, and reached her Force-senses out towards the door. Malak looked up, to see who was there. HK-47 stood in the doorway.
"Statement: Mission completed, Master. Awaiting further instructions." the droid reported, before entering the chamber, and moving to stand innocuously in a corner.
Revan sat up, scowling in the droid's direction, "Maybe I can wait, after all." she muttered in a sulky tone, "I don't want to play with that thing watching me."
"My sentiments precisely." Malak muttered, gratefully sitting up, and gently pushing Revan off him, so he was no longer in contact with the incredibly uncomfortable floor.
Revan stood about as gracefully as possible, considering the position she had been in moments ago, and brushed her hair back out of her face, "Weren't we discussing tests for our new minions' loyalty, before we... got distracted?" she asked flatly, shooting an irritable glance at the droid... though Malak could sense her restraint from blasting it into scrap metal was only due to its potential usefulness.
"Yes... I think we were." Malak said, scowling at the droid. It was just sitting in the corner, looking harmless. He would like nothing better than to just ignore it, and return to what they had been doing a moment ago... but the way that droid stared at him, like it was evaluating the best way to kill him, sent that idea out the airlock.
"I was thinking..." Revan shot one more glance at the droid, then took Malak by the elbow and shoved him towards the door. He took the hint and started walking in that direction. Revan replaced her mask, and followed him. As soon as they were out of the droid's hearing range, she resumed speaking, "...we only need to test the captains. The lower ranking minions are easy enough to turn, but the captains hold power over their own ships, and need to prove to me that they're not going to turn those ships on me at their first opportunity."
"And how do you plan to test them?" Malak asked. Revan was walking briskly along one of the walkways towards the docking level of the Star Forge. Malak kept pace with her, half a step behind her, to her right.
Revan simply smirked darkly, and replaced her mask, "I have an idea."
x x x
Malak never did find out exactly how Revan tested the fleet captains. He knew she summoned them to her office, one at a time. He also knew that, while many seemed perfectly fine when they left, several were shaking like they'd just seen their worst nightmares realised. And a very small number of them - probably four or five in all - never came out at all... the rumour was that screams of agony were heard from within Revan's office, when the unfortunate soldiers who failed Revan's test were there. Malak had never personally witnessed any of it, however, so he couldn't be certain.
x x x
Their first port of call, when they set out from the Star Forge, was what Revan called a 'diplomatic mission' to Korriban. Three hundred of the Star Forge's best Warbird class cruisers surrounded the plant, and Revan hailed the Sith Academy from her flagship.
"What the bloody hell-?!" Jorak Uln's holographic image demanded, as soon as it appeared on the bridge of the Defiant.
Jorak must really have been caught off-guard - what little hair he had was standing up on end, and he was wearing what appeared, on the colourless holoimage, to be a light-coloured bathrobe. Malak theorised, purely for the humour of it, that it was a pastel shade of pink. He could sense that Revan had to make a concerted effort not to laugh out loud at the thought... and that under that mask she was literally grinning.
"Jorak. So nice to see you again. How are your, ah, surviving students?" Revan asked cordially.
"Revan." Jorak said snappishly, "Come back to finish me off, have you?"
"Actually, I have an offer to discuss with you." Revan replied, the picture of diplomatic politeness.
"An offer? What sort of offer?" Jorak asked warily.
"I want you to join me."
Jorak's beady eyes narrowed, as he regarded Revan's impassive mask, "Why?"
"You teach the ways of the Sith. I need people trained quickly, and have neither the time nor the inclination to do so myself. Would you be so kind as to come up here, so we can discuss my offer in a civilised manner?" she asked... the pseudo-politeness was so transparent, even Jorak couldn't miss the threat behind it. To add to the unspoken 'or else', Revan gave a telepathic prod to one of the young ex-Jedi on the bridge, who gave a signal to the rest of the fleet, for all Warbirds to charge primary turbolasers.
Jorak jumped slightly, startled, and seemed to examine something to his right with a genuine focus that implied there was actually something there to see, at his end. His eyes widened until they were practically bugging out of his head - it looked quite comical, actually. Then he slowly turned his attention back to Revan, eyes wide with fear, "Yes, that sounds... yes, I shall be with you in... ten minutes." a pretty fast time for ground-to-orbit transport, really.
Ten minutes later, in the briefing room, Malak checked the time, "He's late." he informed Revan flatly. Revan didn't react.
About fifteen seconds passed in silence, then the doors hissed open, and Jorak strode in, flanked by two of Revan's Force-adept guards, both of whom had unlit lightsabers held, pointing in Jorak's general direction. Merely igniting one of those blades would probably kill him, if he tried anything funny.
"You wished to see me, Revan?" Jorak asked, trying to sound casual. His hair was still standing on end, but he seemed to have found the time to change into that black outfit they had seen him in during their first visit to Korriban.
"Indeed I did, Jorak. Do have a seat." she waved her hand casually towards one of the chairs around a large oval table. The chair she gestured to pulled itself out from the table, inviting Jorak to sit on it.
Jorak stared at the chair for a second, as if he thought it was somehow rigged to kill him if he sat on it... but then decided it'd probably be more likely that he'd get killed if he refused Revan's suggestions. He stalked over to the chair, and settled himself in it, trying to look like he owned the place. A most ineffective illusion, as Revan so clearly did own the place.
Revan walked casually over to take her own seat, at the head of the table. The seat she had designated as Jorak's was two seats down to her left. Malak moved to stand to her right, arms folded, trying to look menacing. He, at least, unlike Jorak, succeeded in projecting this image... thought Revan did hold most of the 'fear me, or else' aura within the room.
"What did you wish to discuss, Revan." Jorak asked, his voice clipped and cold. There was an obvious strain in his tone, betraying carefully reined in fear.
"As I said earlier, I want Force-adepts trained in the Dark Arts, and your Academy is a suitable facility." Revan explained calmly, "If you refuse, you will die. If your new Apprentice then also refuses, I shall decimate your Academy from orbit. I have the firepower to literally turn this planet to dust... but I don't feel like showing off quite that much on my new fleet's maiden voyage."
Malak chuckled darkly, when he heard that. It was pretty accurate. Hell, for just turning the planet to dust, three hundred Warbirds was probably overkill. It was impressive, though.
Jorak took a few moments to think about Revan's offer... it looked like he was considering whether or not he could kill Revan and get away with it. It didn't take him long to come to his conclusion, however, "I am willing to serve you, My Lord." he said carefully keeping his tone even.
"Excellent." Revan said brightly, "Glad to see you're not a total fool. Though your choice of minions, last time we met, left something to be desired... but that isn't a problem anymore, now is it?"
Jorak's left eye twitched in a clear sign of anger, and his knuckles were white, where he gripped the arms of the chair he sat in, but he grit his teeth and didn't retort to Revan's remark. "Uthar Wynn is my new Apprentice. Do you approve of him?" he asked, in a low growl that implied he doubted anything would really meet with Revan's approval.
"You could do worse." Revan said blithely, "And I think - given those I saw in your 'Academy'-" she said the word with utter distain... even though she was currently 'negotiating' for the services of said Academy, "-Uthar appears to be the best you could really do."
Jorak glared at her. Malak was sure he saw the older Sith's eyes glow a little brighter as he glared. "So, do you wish to discuss details of this... arrangement?"
Revan smiled, leaning back in her chair, exuding smugness, "Yes. I shall send you some students. You shall also start up a recruiting program to bring in more students for me. As soon as my people are trained in the basics of the dark arts, you give them right back to me. In exchange, I let you live and keep your Academy. You may be Master within your own little domain, but you still answer to me. How does that sound?"
"Sounds fair." Jorak said, his voice strained.
"Glad you approve." Revan said in a far too sweet tone, "You may go now."
Jorak stood quickly, and bowed at the waist - clearly an uncomfortable gesture for him to make - and then turned to leave as fast as humanly possible.
"What do you think of this idea, Malak?" Revan asked, when they were left alone in the briefing room.
"I think he's a slimy git." Malak said bluntly, "But I like your plan. Please tell me you're ditching Derrin with him."
"No, I'm not." Revan said bluntly.
"Why not?" Malak protested.
"I want to keep a close eye on Derrin." Revan said, taking out a datapad and handing it to Malak, "Have a look at this."
Malak looked at the datapad. It was a record of an encrypted transmission. "What is it?"
"I don't know yet. Our computers are working on decoding it." Revan said flatly, "But it was sent from Derrin's private console to somewhere on Coruscant."
Malak frowned, examining the encrypted message. Languages, he was crap at... but encryptions were mathematically based... not that he thought he could do better than the computers, but he tried to find a pattern in what he was looking at.
"Don't bother. I tried." Revan said blithely.
Malak looked up at her, "Can I hold onto this copy?"
"Of course. If you figure it out, do tell me." Revan replied cheerfully. She was amused at him. He was determined to try to read it, even though she'd told him not to bother, and she was only letting him keep it to indulge his ego - she thought it a great joke. She was humouring him, but didn't think he'd be able to read it.
Malak's eyes narrowed as he sensed that from her, "No need to laugh at me, angel."
She turned around and struck him across the face, hard. "I thought I told you not to call me that!" she snarled.
Malak slowly reached his hand up to touch where she had hit him. The gloves she wore were made of a rough fabric, and it left a grazed mark on his cheekbone. He frowned slightly, "Why did you do that?" he asked, quietly.
"I told you not to call me that again." Revan said coldly.
Malak bowed his head, "Force of habit." he murmured.
"Break it. Or next time I'll break another bone." she growled.
Malak cringed at that thought, "Yes, Master." he replied coldly.
Revan took a step towards him, and pulled his hand away from his face, examining the slightly red mark on his cheek, "I doubt that's a fatal wound." she said snidely.
He glared at her, and pulled his hand sharply away from her. "Not funny." he growled.
She smirked, and took a step back, "Go play with that datapad, if you like." she said blithely, "I'll be in my quarters at 2200 hours, if you're... interested. Meanwhile, I shall plan our next move. The Galactic Republic won't know what hit them."
x x x
Malak took the datapad with him, to his private quarters, and spent several hours going over it. It was incredibly tedious, trying to find the code in the incredibly short message. After several long hours of not getting anywhere with it, however, 'Hey, language databank.' he thought, projecting it to Revan, 'If I go through all the mathematical decryptions I can concoct, could you tell me if the result makes sense? I'm pretty certain this isn't Basic.'
'Good idea. Get started.' Revan replied. Malak could sense only half her concentration - if that - was on him, however. When he tried to see what she was doing, he saw that she was in conference with the admiral, and several of the fleet captains. He shook his head, and brought his focus back to the datapad - he didn't really care about the details of her attack plans - he never could follow her strategies, in such matters, anyway.
Carefully projecting his thoughts for Revan to see, he began working on various algorithms for possible decryptions. Another hour of this passed, during which Revan concluded her meeting and engaged in a private discussion with Zordoc and Karath, not for the ears of the common soldiers. Something about new recruits, which Karath had mentioned during the meeting.
Eventually, however, Revan held her hand up to silence the admiral, and interrupted Malak's eavesdropping with 'That one.'
Malak stopped what he had been doing, and examined the decryption, 'Bloody hell, he's a lazy git. This is a bog-standard alpha-numeric binary displacement - I didn't think he'd try something so blatant.'
'The trick is in the language, Malak. An obscure dialect of Zabrak - hardly ever spoken outside their homeworld.'
'Well, what does it say?'
'It's directed to... Vrook - Derrin was his Padawan student, it must be referring to him. Telling of how we have turned to the dark side, and my nefarious plot to take over the galaxy - Force, it sounds so cheesy and clichéd when he words it like that-'
Malak sniggered, 'Straight out of a comic-datastrip... Master.' he replied, trying hard not to laugh too much, 'Derrin is a fan of the Starkiller Quest series.'
'Is that the one with a different bizarre lunatic trying to take over the galaxy in every episode, and the so-called hero murders them in a duelling ring every time?'
'Yes, that one.'
'Derrin really is insane.'
'You don't need to tell me twice.' Malak noted, amused, 'Weren't you in the middle of a meeting?'
'Oh, yes... and with this new information, we need to move much faster.' Malak could now sense Revan return most of her attention to the two rather confused soldiers in her briefing room.
'Can I kill Derrin now?' Malak asked hopefully.
'Actually, he has suddenly become a great deal more valuable. Misinformation is a very useful tool, Malak.'
'Bugger.'
'Language, Malak.'
'Right... that reminds me, how do I swear in Rakatan?'
'I'll teach you later.' Revan answered before locking him out of her mind, so she could concentrate on her meeting.
x x x
Malak kept a close eye on Derrin, for the next week... but the Zabrak brat didn't do anything suspicious. Unless you count being-an-annoying-git as suspicious, but that was perfectly normal behaviour for Derrin, really.
Revan took the two lead ships - Leviathan and Defiant - and several other Republic ships in her command, into Outer Rim Republic territory. Their respective captains left, to meet with several of those they believed could be convinced to join the cause. Derrin was on the Leviathan, with Malak... Malak continued to keep him under surveillance.
Those who had left on their... well, the phrase 'covert operations' doesn't quite fit since they were in plain sight, though the Republic didn't yet know they were the enemy... returned quickly, averaging about two dozen new converts- I mean, recruits- each, between them.
Only one of them failed to recruit every soldier they had thought they could turn. Malak had the good fortune of being in Revan's office when Captain Karath returned.
"My Lord." he said, bowing to Revan. Malak made a point of staying well out of the way, lurking in the shadows. "I managed to persuade thirty-four of my former command to join you."
More than any of the others. Pretty impressive... but Malak couldn't resist the cruel smirk when he sensed what Revan was about to say to that. "You promised three dozen."
"A... an approximate number, My Lord." Karath said quickly.
"I requested an exact number of those you believed you could turn, before you left." Revan said coldly, "You told me thirty-six."
"Two of the soldiers I approached were... resistant to the concept of joining us." Karath said, in a diplomatic tone.
"Names and ranks." Revan said coldly, "They will suffer for their foolishness."
"The... the two who refused to listen to my offer... their names are Garik Niedra and Carth Onasi." Karath said nervously.
"Give me a full report on the histories of them both." Revan said flatly, "On my desk by tomorrow morning. Leave now."
Malak raised an eyebrow at that. Interesting... he had expected her to punish Karath for failing.
"Y-yes, My Lord." Karath said quickly. He saluted stiffly, then turned and left Revan's office.
"What just happened?" Malak asked.
"It's not Karath's fault that those soldiers refused his offer. He couldn't very well force them to join us - that would have blown his cover." Revan said calmly, "So when we do begin conquering the Republic, I shall ensure that those whose fault it is - the foolish soldiers themselves - shall suffer the consequences of their mistake."
"Charming." Malak said flatly, "Although, for failing, Karath really should be tested again."
"Indeed." Revan looked out the window, at the Republic shipyard across the system... which, from this distance, could easily disappear behind the moon it orbited. "Since we have no further use for this place... get Karath to help you destroy it. I'll take the Leviathan back to Sith space, and meet you at Midas City."
"Why go there?"
"I have more negotiations to engage in." she said idly, "I'll meet you there when you've finished here."
Karath turned out to be much more useful than Malak had expected. Instead of simply working out an efficient strategy, he came up with pass-codes and shield frequencies, which allowed for an almost total massacre. The Republic really didn't know what hit them... nor would they know until the next strike.
x x x