Interlude One – Maidens With White Hands
"You know, Chihiro, I don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at Hoth," Matsuyama said. He and his partner (she wasn't really a subordinate anymore) sat in the lounge of the Aster Eater, sipping cold drinks and doing their best to enjoy this short respite from their Intelligence duties. The ice planet hung beneath them, twisting with endless minute variations of white and light-blue. "I mean, I've never seen anything like it."
"If you say so." Chihiro had stood on too many flight-decks and looked down at too many worlds for them to have the same effect on her. She suspected that he was enjoying it so much because of his newfound freedom. "Say, something you were reading really surprised you before we came down here. What was it?"
"Oh, someone ordered a hit on the Empress," Matsuyama answered casually. "One of Kurosawa's peers in the Big Four, apparently."
"Wh-?" Chihiro only just managed to avoid doing a spit-take all over Matsuyama's freshly-cleaned dress uniform. "On the… no, no, no way! Forget it! It's just not done! Short of waylaying an asteroid and blowing up the planet she's on… no, I take that back, someone tried it five-hundred years ago and that didn't even work! Between Nochichi and the Empress's Hand and all those Guardsmen and the armored motorcades and shielded palaces… it has to be impossible!"
"No need to freak out." Her companion chuckled and turned back to her, leaning on the table conspiratorially. "But you know, if it is possible, I think they called in the right people. Have you heard of the Ayase family?"
"Have I!" That famed family of assassins, an unbroken dynasty of infallible death-dealers whose history stretched back farther than the Empire's itself, was known to anybody who had even dipped their big toe in the world of interplanetary espionage. "Don't tell me…"
"The Matriarch of Ayase would never take that job," Matsuyama continued. "She doesn't fancy herself much of a political activist. But her eldest daughter, Asagi, ran off when the Patriarch passed away. She hooked up with a childhood friend and they formed a group of their own. It's called Blanc, I think."
"Blanc?" Chihiro had the feeling there was a joke in the name, but she couldn't pick it out.
"They're shockingly unprofessional and splashy most of the time, but they've pulled off some… hm, I guess you wouldn't want to call them 'miracles,' would you?"
"So, what, two women are about to try and assassinate the Empress of the Known Universe? I guess we should wish them luck." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Wouldn't that be bizarre, though? Yukari's so determined to become renowned for something… what if it was as the first Empress to be assassinated?"
"Why do I find that thought so amusing?" Matsuyama snickered. "God, that's horrible!"
"Yes, it seriously is," Chihiro agreed, expression flat.
Matsuyama shut up.
As it turned out, the Empress was surprisingly vulnerable to those with the right information. Most of her day-to-day travel about the Imperial City was in a small, unmarked armored car with starship-grade shields (though she often complained about not being able to use her gaudy hover-limo.) It zipped through the concrete jungles beneath Coruscant's thoroughfares, never spending more than an hour in the open, its routes unplanned. Only the Director of Imperial Intelligence knew how to find it any given moment… which would have been a great deal if Madame Director herself hadn't wanted the Empress out of her way for a while now.
Ackbar's Seafood Shindig, a "Family Restaurant" just seventy meters or so above Coruscant's uninhabitable depths, was an unlikely place for the fate of the Galaxy to be decided. Thus, nobody thought much of it when a tall, willowy and very pretty woman walked out onto its balcony with a parcel under her arm and leaned on the rail. Her pale hair flowed fetchingly in the cold wind that howled between Coruscant's towers.
After a few minutes her recently acquired bodyguard, a typically enormous Valerian with spiky hair, came plodding up with an ice cream cone in each hand. She accepted hers with a quick-but-winning smile, which seemed to be all the thanks he needed. It was plain to see that the man was quite hung up on her.
"Hmm," she said lazily, "I was really hoping for chocolate. Better luck next time."
"Ack!" he jumped, centimeters short of bashing his head on the overhang. "I'll run back and-!"
"No, no, it's okay," she waved him down, sweat-dropping on the inside. "You shouldn't take me so seriously, Little Takeshi. I don't usually mean anything by it when I say things like that."
"Huh?"
"Ha!" She smiled again. "That was a rare moment of candor, a break in the shimmering, gorgeous facade of Asagi Ayase! You should be grateful."
"Oh, I am!" He bowed quickly.
Asagi stared up at him, eyebrow raised. What did I just tell you?
"Er… so what are we doing here?" Takeshi asked, rubbing the back of his head. He hadn't gotten the hang of all this cloak-and-dagger stuff yet.
"Eating ice-cream," Asagi answered helpfully, casually checking her watch. "Oh, and… oops!" The parcel tumbled out of her arms and disappeared into the darkness beneath them. Her exclamation was so bright and cheerful that it was obvious the drop was intentional, but she still felt the need to grab Takeshi's sleeve lest he dive after it in a fit of poorly thought-out devotion. Of course, had he made any move to jump, her weight would have done nothing to stop him.
"Was that-?"
"All part of the plan," Asagi assured him, then clicked open her communicator. "Torako?"
"Yeah," a deep, tired female voice replied.
"Are you ready?"
"Yeah." They signed off.
"That should be it for us, Little Takeshi. Why don't we head down and see how she's doing? It'll probably be over by then."
Several hundred meters below them, in an abandoned room that had once been an apartment before the concrete-eating slugs or whatever had taken over, a lanky figure stirred at the center of a field of crushed cigarettes. It was a towering scarecrow of a woman, springing heavily to her feet and stretching expansively.
Torako brushed dark bangs out of her eyes and knelt by the room's window, hefting a long, custom-built rifle. The scope was already set to the proper range, though she spared a glance through it to make certain. Sliding a fresh cigarette into the corner of her mouth, Torako settled in to wait once more.
Meanwhile, not far away, the aforementioned little armored car sped along towards the Imperial Palace, completely unaware of its coming date with a powerful but primitive bomb, plunging silently into its course without the benefit of an electronic timer or guidance system—totally analog and nigh undetectable.
Yukari was sprawled out in the back, turning the whole seat into a brouhaha of colorful robes and loud snoring. The newly christened Empress's Hand was curled up against a window, almost seeming to shrink from her. Ayumu really didn't enjoy these drives, especially now that she was forced to sit next to her liege (she had a tendency to distract the drivers.) This time, though, something seemed particularly rotten. She leaned forward to lay a soft hand on their chauffer's arm. "Slow down a bit, will ya?"
Normally the driver only listened to the Empress, but he'd heard stories that Ayumu could shatter bones with her touch, so he made an exception just this once.
Torako's mellow eye fell on the armored car as it rounded a corner in the distance. "Yep," she muttered softly. Zooming in (but keeping her original range as a preset), she could just make out the driver and two figures in the back. Yukari's hair was unmistakable. "So the package should be… uh oh."
She noticed that the vehicle was going about half the predicted clip… and hadn't Yukari's companion glanced up just as the scope fell on them? That wasn't the Empress's Hand, was it? Don't be paranoid, she's not really looking at you! Torako snapped open her com and pulled the cigarette free. "They're wise."
"Looks like our best-laid plans are laid to waste," Asagi's replied lightly. "If you think you can, take the…" she was drowned out when the falling package finally reached Torako's depth and exploded. WHOOM! Coughing bitterly, she put her eye to the scope again and saw that the car was completely unfazed, hurtling along at its top speed, shields turned up so high that the air about it was visibly distorted. "Forget it."
Even worse news: there was only one figure in the backseat. At that speed… adrenaline stabbed through Torako nauseously, an unfamiliar feeling to the normally steady-nerved young woman. In fact, the jolt almost scared her more than its cause. "Asagi," she started, voice strained, but then the car's radio interference kicked in and her communicator went dead. "Crap!"
Twenty levels up, her partner broke into a dead run, genuinely unnerved for the first time in years. Takeshi swallowed his worry and thumped along after her, but skidded to a halt when they came to a gap between buildings. Asagi leapt across without hesitation, rolling gracefully on the other side. "Well, you only live once, right?" he said nervously. Trying his hardest not to look down, the Valerian hurled himself after. "Hyup!" THUD!
Torako stood sharply and wrenched her rifle off of its stand. Out the window with it, then—she could always get another rifle, but she'd never find a new head if that psychotic Sithling decapitated her. Why was that notion so much scarier than just getting shot?
She looked down to set the charge that would blast this room and all evidence of her passing to cinders, but when Torako's eyes rose again… she was already there. A slight little bird of a girl, long brown hair, big brown eyes, and not even those Sith robes could make her look menacing. She crouched in the window, balanced easily on its narrow edge, gazing at Torako with a distant, vaguely surprised expression. Oh, no doubt, there was something off about this one. "Just one of ya?"
"You-!" Torako choked, swinging the unwieldy rifle up. She knew on some level that she had practically no chance of surviving the next three seconds, but that was no reason to quit just yet. The Sith hopped from the windowsill and landed on the rifle's barrel, one hand flicking her cloak back and darting down towards the saber at her belt.
The rifle fell and Torako stepped forward, throwing a hand across her body to catch the smaller woman's wrist just as her saber came free. Its brilliant blade crackled out, turning the room violet and scaring the assassin crapless. Why didn't I use my left-? shot across Torako's mind before she realized that her left hand still held the new cigarette. Without an instant's further thought, she jammed its burning end into her foe's forehead, eliciting a totally un-Sith-like yelp.
She couldn't enjoy her triumph for even a second, though. Inexplicably, the cigarette's heat was sucked away and it was left cold in her hand. One booted foot struck down on her hip, another was planted on her chest and Torako was abruptly pitching backwards, the girl's delicate hands threaded through her dark hair. Stars blasted in her vision as her head skipped off the chipped tiles, and then their duel was over.
But what was happening now? All at once, Torako felt cold. Her head, specifically. Why in the Galaxy should her head feel so very…? Ahh. Just as the Sith had drawn the heat out of her cigarette, so was the vital warmth being drawn from her body. It hadn't even been a second and she was already far-gone enough that this knowledge didn't particularly bother her. So it would be a soft death for her… just fall asleep…
Torako gazed calmly up into the Sith's eyes. They were mostly empty, the eyes of someone hiding inside of themselves--but something flickered around their edges. She was… sad? She didn't really want to be doing this? Torako felt a sharp pang of annoyance; Sith or no, to be killed by someone who was so unmotivated—
As it turned out, her irritation saved her life. It made her hold on just long enough for Asagi to kick the door in and fire her blaster into the vampire's side. Mito stumbled away with a sharp cry of pain, but rather than simply falling over dead, she just straightened and parried the next two bolts.
"You're kidding!" Asagi snapped.
"'Fraid not. Or did I make a joke without realizin' it? That happens a lot…"
Asagi blinked in momentary confusion, but didn't let the banter break her concentration. "Stay back! Torako, you okay?"
"Go 'way," she mumbled. "'m tired."
"What did you do to her?"
"I was-awp!" This was Asagi's patented 'blast 'em while they're in mid-sentence' ploy, which had worked on dozens of targets. But unfortunately, the Sithling didn't pitch to the ground with a hole in her face—Asagi was left staring in disbelief as she clutched a handful of smoke over her head. "Ya don't wanna talk, then?" Darth Mito asked, determination hardening her manner. "Good. Just makes it worse…"
"Uh, well, if you wanted we could—!" Asagi hit the deck and her opponent whipped overhead, leaving a blazing purple arc at about the level of her neck. She threw a back-kick without looking and almost laughed when it connected with what felt like a kidney, throwing the Sith further along her ballistic path and smacking her against the wall.
It was then that Asagi finally noticed her partner's explosive charge counting down. A little more than three minutes before the room became a hole-in-the-wall, and her foe doubtless wouldn't give her time to stop it. Grand. Why'd you have to be so thorough this time, Torako? C'mon! The cigarette butts are like our calling card!
Both combatants whirled at the same moment, Asagi incorporating a turning kick into the motion that set Mito's lightsaber clattering across the floor. She'd inherited a lot of lousy traits from her mother, but it was nice to have gotten those long legs, at least. "Say goodbye, little assassin!" she crowed, leveling her blaster at the Sith's forehead point-blank.
"Huh? Aren't you the assassin?"
Asagi's eyebrow twitched, and in that moment it was too late. Something incredible plowed into her, like the shockwave from a percussive charge, but one that didn't stop. "Wha-a-a-?" she couldn't get her question out through the rattling pain, and forgot about it when she tripped over Torako and crashed to the floor.
The shockwave finally faded away, leaving them both lying helpless. After a brief hesitation, Mito started sadly forward, arms hanging limply at her sides. Asagi almost felt sorry for her for a moment, remembering her own early days as an assassin. Then she really felt sorry for the girl, because she obviously didn't notice that colossal silhouette with the gleaming eyes behind her…
One Valerian-sized backhand later and the Sithling was tumbling end-over-end into the concrete wall, hitting headfirst with a sickening crack. She flopped bonelessly to the ground as Takeshi rushed forward. "Asagi! Asagi, are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah…" she sat up. "You're late."
"Sorry, boss. I don't like heights."
"What about you, Torako?" Torako grumbled, mimicking his voice. "Are you okay? I don't know what I'd do if you…"
"You, of all people, don't like heights? Do you spend every minute of every day in a panic, then?" Asagi's brow furrowed. There was something important that she was forgetting…
"What the heck is that?" Takeshi shrieked, leaping into the air rather comically. Somehow, Darth Mito had already risen, and stood looking up at him blearily, clutching her head. There was a small spot of blood on the wall where she'd hit; fortunately the Valerian didn't notice, because he felt rotten enough about hitting her already.
"Oh my God!" she cried, pointing. Takeshi braced himself for her to say what everybody in the freaking galaxy said upon first seeing him, but- "How do you get your hair to do that?"
"Buh?" Takeshi ran a hand over the top of his head. "Naturally spiky."
"Are you even human?" She stared disbelievingly at the offending locks. "No human's hair could ever do that naturally!"
"Of course I'm human! Homo Sapiens Valera!" Takeshi's eye flickered to the side. Asagi was sitting up, quietly miming pummeling someone into a pulp and staring at him pointedly. He sighed heavily. This was the part of bodyguarding he didn't like.
"Sorry, we were fightin', weren't we?" Mito shook herself. "That knock to the head made me lose my train of-" Takeshi's reluctant punch folded her in two, where an even more reluctant fist popped down on the back of her head and put her lights out. "Sorry, kid! Sorry!"
"There was something going on, here…" Torako mumbled, dazed.
"Yeah… but for the life of me, I--oh, yeah!" Asagi snapped her fingers. "The bomb!"
"Wha-?" Takeshi looked up.
There were twelve seconds.
Asagi had ribbed Takeshi mercilessly when he'd bought himself a beltclip-style personal shield, refusing to wear one herself. Couldn't someone as big and tough as him eat blaster-bolts for breakfast? Or was he getting it in case Torako decided to beat him up? You know, a slow knife can penetrate those things easily. And would you look at the size of that beltclip? Disco is dead, man! Maybe he should just get the whole hog and buy a starfighter while he's at it! Clip a Z-95 Headhunter to his belt, eh? He was probably big enough to drag one of those around…
But Takeshi had never seemed quite so admirable in her eyes as just this moment. Scooping her up in one arm and Torako in the other, he dialed the shield on, took two prodigious steps towards safety and BOOM! The bodyguard curled protectively around them both and roared in pain—no, not just pain. It was the first time Asagi had ever heard a true Valerian bellow from him, the cry of a spirit that was as big as he was, rumbling out of his chest and through her whole body. Would she ever be able to call him Little Takeshi again? Weird that such a ferocious sound could make her feel so safe, even as fire and shrapnel scourged the man's back and buffeted them fiercely.
The three of them stayed huddled together for quite a while after that, Takeshi making soft little sounds that she couldn't identify. Torako seemed to have passed out. "Oh…" their protector finally muttered. "Now I've killed a kid."
"She was twenty, at least," Asagi whispered, "And--shh!" Her sharp eyes had roved up from the enormous expanse of Takeshi's colorful shirt to hover over his shoulder. Across the thoroughfare, a small, tattered, smoking figure stood, searching the wreckage with stony, unfocused eyes. Even from this distance, the assassin could see that the little Sith had been scorched on the inside as well. You must think we're goners… was this your first time, child? It'll get easier, I promise.
She stared back, nerves jangling. Surely, amid all the fire and debris on this side, dazed and injured as she must be, the Empress's Hand couldn't make them out. And sure enough, she finally turned away, slipping off into the shadows of Coruscant's underbelly. Asagi couldn't shake the feeling that they'd made eye-contact, though…
The three of them wove down a moving concourse, supporting each other like a cluster of drunks. It would be too dangerous to stop at a certified hospital, and Takeshi squeamishly refused to have his wounds treated at an underground one, so Asagi had hauled herself to a drugstore to pick up some bandages and regen cream, sporting sunglasses and an outfit that mostly hid her build. She stumbled a little on her assumed name, but given how badly the Sith attack had rattled her brains (literally), it could be forgiven.
How long would being thought dead protect them? They were depending entirely on chance. Would Kasuga think to give their descriptions to anyone? Would the Nightwind be impounded? Would Perimeter Enforcement be alerted in case they tried to leave? Were Stormies gathering around their ship even now?
Fortunately, they'd be pretty much in the clear if they made it off the ground. Asagi had arranged for a section of the planetary shield to be opened for them in the next hour, and only outlaws with little love for the Empress had the means to screw her on that one.
"Can we rest a bit?" Torako asked as they neared the dock.
"You'll just fall asleep," Asagi reached over unsteadily and punched her arm, hiding a wince at how cold her friend still felt. "Hold on a bit longer, 'kay?"
"Whatever."
When they finally stood outside the Nightwind's birth, though, Asagi stopped them. "Look. Someone tried to bomb us." She indicated a tiny lump, barely visible in the shadow of its nose. "Just a firebomb, antipersonnel, looks like… not Imperial… and jeez, and what a pathetic job they did planting it!" She drew her blaster and raised it, barrel wavering drunkenly. "Bet you ten credits I get it on my first shot."
"Um…" Takeshi started.
"My ship!" Torako gasped. "Don't—that's a custom paintjob, you-!"
"Wait, how can you tell all of that from this distance?" the bodyguard asked.
"I'm mostly guessing." Asagi's blaster spoke once, twice, thrice and finally she set the firebomb off. The Nightwind's nose vanished in a bright-orange flower, liquid fire splashing over its surface and cascading down to pool on the ground. A torrent of flame-retardant foam immediately roared out of the ceiling, combating the flaming gel on equal terms before a second dose piled on and doused it. Fortunately, Emergency Services rarely stirred itself to respond to calls this deep in the city, and the dock's owners knew better than to ask questions about blasterfire in the berths. "Just don't leave any corpses here," was their motto.
"My… my ship!" Torako jerked away from Takeshi and wobbled on her feet, staring in horror. "Y-you're burning my ship!"
"It's metal, silly," Asagi reminded her. "It won't burn."
"That's not the point! God, I need a cigarette!" Asagi smiled sweetly and held out the pack she'd bought at the drugstore. "All is forgiven," Torako snapped, snatching it.
"Boy, that sure woke you up…" Before she could finish, Asagi's com chirped and she stepped away from Takeshi to answer it. Bereft of physical support, the Valerian sank heavily onto the bench, grunting when his back came up against the rough wall.
"Yes, I'll pay." Asagi tapped her foot for a second. "Hello? Oh… hello, Mother."
"Tak, come on. Let's go search the ship," Torako said quickly, grabbing his arm and tugging him urgently along. "Do you remember how to start her up? We've got to get going."
"What?"
"We're in a bit of a rush, and that's not something we want to overhear anyway. Asagi and her mom have some… issues." They hobbled quickly towards the ship, just in time to get doused by a mass of water that crashed down to clean away the foam. Asagi pointed and giggled, but neither of them spared her a glance as they vanished up the gangplank, carefully searching for more surprises.
"I'm sorry, I missed that, Mother. … No, no, it didn't work out," Asagi nodded easily. "Yeah, I guess you were right this time. What? … What? …Look, just because I conceded a point to you doesn't mean I'm mocking you! … Hey, I'm not trying to condescend! What did you call me? … Demon child? Ha! You've been training me to kill people since I was knee-high, what other kind of child did you want?" She sat down. Her voice was antagonized, but she was smiling in a pugilistic sort of way. "I swear, if it wasn't Father's dying wish that … oh, so he faked his death again? … No! Don't put him on! Tell him I've grieved and moved on, or whatever! Honestly!" Though she would probably have to give him a call some other time, if only to mock him.
"Oh, and now you're calling me an incompetent assassin, how original. Shame of the family? Heard it before. … Yeah, I absolutely suck because I didn't manage to kill the Empress of the Known Universe. … Yes! I said that on this line, you heard me, didn't you? Got a problem? Hold on."
Asagi covered the mouthpiece and laughed out loud, then composed herself and dove right back in. "If I'm so incompetent, what do you suppose keeps happening to the hitmen you send after me? … No, the sun wasn't in his eyes! By the way, shame on you for pitting me against my own sister. … Yeah, Fuka's on her way back. … Galactic Express. I got overnight shipping. … No, no, you won't have to pay when she gets there, I used my card. … Yes, of course I punched air holes for her! … Oh, don't be so hard on her. Fuka did everything by the book, just the way you taught her. Come to think of it, that's probably why I got her. --Yeah, I caught her hanging halfway through a window, it was pretty funny. … Nope. Y'know, you should have let her keep that bow, her codename could've been Death Cupid or…"
"Asagi Ayase!" a harsh voice snapped. "(I finally found you!)"
She glanced up calmly and saw that Greedo had entered the bay while she was laughing and stood holding his blaster on her. "Huh?" she continued into the phone. "Oh, someone's holding a gun to my head."
"(No talking!)"
"He's telling me not to talk. Honestly, Mother, Greedo? You're really scraping the bottom of the barrel."
"(Hey!)"
"Hold on a sec." Asagi set the communicator aside and took a few seconds to beat the snot out of him, casually continuing her conversation once she'd finished. "Okay, I'm back. … What, you didn't send him? Then who…?"
"(It was a bounty! There's a trillion credits on your head!)" Greedo gurgled, clutching his groin. The assassin's eyes widened momentarily. So Mito did see us! But why didn't she…? "(Um… and I apologize about the firebomb. If it helps, I don't think the Imperials know this is your ship yet.)"
"No big," Asagi said pleasantly. "Well, I have to go, Mother. … That's right. A trillion. … No, I'm not kidding, look it up! … Okay, sure. Yeah, so I'll be disappearing for, like, a decade or two. Huh? No, not longer, I have a good feeling about that Rebellion. … Hug Ena for me, will you? But don't tell her it's from me because she might remember that time I chloroformed her. … I don't know why she wouldn't. The stuff doesn't cause brain-damage, does it? …Hmmm… Well, all the best! Ciao."
She snapped the com shut and stood, cursing softly when her leg almost gave and she stumbled. She'd quite forgotten about being wounded for a minute there. "You should take up a new business," she advised Greedo, "Before you end up frapped and mixed into someone's drink."
"(I think I will. This seriously sucks.)"
"And just so you know," Asagi chuckled wearily as she started limping towards the Nightwind. "I'd be the first one to try that brew."
