The ambivalence of Korlen Olligard graduated to disquietude when Vasma met him in the hangar bay. "Lady Crysenthia and her apprentice are waiting at your office. None too patiently, I would add."

Though the Human kept up appearances as always, it was easy to sense that her encounter with the uninvited guests had not been pleasant for her. Korlen felt a slight pang as he and the deputy prefect parted ways. She had long been a faithful and capable assistant; perhaps she was due some time off in the near future. But in light of the Republic incursion, not to mention everything else that was happening, that might not be possible.

Riding the turbolift up to Level Four, Korlen felt the distant pulse of another Force-user. It was less distant than he thought, however, for his mysterious guest intercepted him in a corridor several turns from his office. "Prefect Olligard," she drawled, "at last you have seen fit to grace the station with your arrival! Nevertheless, I could not tolerate being kept from your august presence any longer."

"I came with all possible haste, Lady Crysenthia," protested Korlen as he drew near. He spoke in his native Quarrenese, while a linguivocoder affixed to his collar repeated the words in Basic.

"Yes, your ever-so-diligent deputy was quick to assure me of such." The Human cocked her hooded head back in a knowing manner, and the glint of a blue eye momentarily pierced the darkness that shrouded much of her face. "Tell me, have you given any thought to curbing these dangerous ambitions of hers?"

All four of Korlen's facial tendrils rippled in dismay. "What? What are you talking about?"

"There was trouble and disquiet in Vasma Brand's mind as I spoke to her. I fancied that I could perceive feelings of anger, abandonment, resentment long permitted to fester..." Crysenthia's imperious tone wavered, then trailed off into a long, uncomfortable pause as she seemed suddenly unsure of her own words. Anxious as Korlen was to hear her explain herself, he was just about to break the intolerable silence when the Human beat him to it. "Ah, Prefect Olligard—it is now obvious that I was mistaken, and so I have spoken in grave error and presumption. Please forgive me, and let us never recall my mistake again."

Saying this, she gave a deep, solemn bow from the waist—so deep, in fact, that Korlen worried if she would stay on her feet, considering the weight she was putting on her cane.

"I accept your apology, my lady," he intoned, his voice shaking with restraint—an inflection which the vocoder on his collar dutifully omitted in its translation. Had he not known better, and had he not been able to sense the Force within Lady Crysenthia, he would have thought that he was being faced with a lunatic. Her absurd insinuations about Vasma and, by extension, Korlen's own good judgement, were singularly infuriating, notwithstanding her abrupt and bloviating apology. Even so, Korlen was careful to rein in his anger. He had no idea who Crysenthia was or what she wanted; if, for instance, she turned out to have the ear of Lady Hoctu, then offending her would put Korlen himself at risk. Better to humor her, and err on the side of caution for now, he thought.

"Now, will you please explain what brings you to Torque Highport?"

Again there was an excruciating pause which Crysenthia claimed at the last possible instant. "Here? In the open halls of the station, where any being may overhear? Impossible. It is a grave, dire matter which must be discussed only within the security and privacy of your office."

Silently, Korlen thanked the Force that no one was within hearing at the moment. He'd never met such a verbose creature in his life. "Then we have no time to lose."

Escorting his guest the rest of the way to his office—or rather back to it, Korlen realized—was excruciating. Lady Crysenthia panted with exertion as she hobbled along, repeatedly losing momentum and lagging behind, forcing Korlen to all but stop in his tracks while he waited for her to catch up. Rarely had he ever met a fellow Sith Lord in such obvious ill health. It was hard to believe she had been well enough to make the journey from Thule, or wherever she had come from.

He was on the verge of asking if she had need of assistance when something else occurred to him. "Where is your apprentice, my lady?"

"Ah, I beg your pardon?"

"My deputy prefect," said Korlen slowly. "She said that you arrived with an apprentice. Why is he not with you?"

Yet another pause. "Oh, you mean Morius, don't you? My dear prefect, he is no apprentice, only a minion. His skills encompass a limited range—murder and machines, for the most part. In my, ah, absent-minded haste I permitted him to accompany me to the station, but I thought better of it and sent him back to the ship." Taking a half-step closer, she lowered her voice a bit to add, "You see, despite his prowess, Morius is—shall we say—feeble-minded. Little better than a child. He can keep himself amused, but there is no need for him to take part in our affairs."

Fearing that she would continue, Korlen held up a clawed hand. "Yes, quite right, my lady. We're almost there now..."