Chapter Seven: Unforeseen Circumstances

Reyenna returned to Harkun's office at the Sith Academy, the Dashade at her side and the map in her hand. Zash's grin was matched in intensity by Harkun's scowl as he accepted it.

"Now, Harkun," Zash said, her smile not wavering. "Please explain why I shouldn't kill you."

Harkun's skin paled, and his jaw twitched as he tried to form a reply. "M-my Lord?"

"I was very specific about what type of acolyte I wanted," Zash said. "I requested acolytes with no Sith history or training. Yet you brought in a Pure Blood, trained practically from birth. What were you trying to prove? That you could outsmart me? That you knew better than me what kind of person I wanted for an apprentice?"

For the first time, Reyenna heard genuine anger in the Sith Lord's voice. It was a quiet anger, wielded with the care and control of a scalpel.

Harkun said nothing, which Reyenna ranked as the wisest decision she had seen the overseer make.

Zash turned to her. "What do you think, apprentice? Should I kill him?"

There was a hunger in Zash's eyes, almost as keen as the hunger Reyenna had felt from Khem Val. She had no doubt that if she asked for Harkun's head, Zash would revel in delivering it.

"Let him live," Reyenna said after a moment.

Both Zash and Harkun seemed surprised, and she felt the Dashade's disapproval. Lest she appear weak, she decided to explain her verdict.

"Harkun now knows that he can't cheat you," she explained. "And if he tries to undermine you again, he knows that you will make him wish you had killed him today. That will make him your loyal servant in the future. Isn't that right, Harkun?"

Harkun nodded vehemently. "Completely your servant, my Lord!" he exclaimed, falling to his knees before Zash.

"If you kill him," Reyenna continued casually, "then you'll just have to deal with the schemes of his replacement." She cast a glance down at Harkun, trembling as he awaited Zash's final judgment. "Besides, he's actually not a bad teacher, for a place such as this. I will leave here knowing to always watch my back. Is there a more valuable lesson for a Sith to learn?"

Zash mulled it over, nodded.

"Get up, Harkun," she sighed. "Seeing you grovel like that makes me want to do very nasty things."

Harkun struggled to his feet. "My Lord." He bowed.

Zash ignored him, flashing another grin at Reyenna.

"Come, my apprentice," she said, extending her hand. "We have much to do."

"We have a lot to do," Cipher Nine sighed to Zarek. "We have to intercept your rival bounty hunter, stop Fa'athra's egg purchase, and make sure Nem'ro doesn't double-cross either of us."

They were back at Braden's suite in the Poison Pit Cantina. Nem'ro's assistant, Juda, had transferred a data file to Cipher with all the information about the rancor egg deal. It was a comprehensive file – Nem'ro had obviously known about this transaction from the beginning.

"Doubtless, he already had plans to sabotage it," she observed. "But why risk his own agents, when he can extort us into doing it?"

Mako was ready with information of her own, this time about the target of the Trandoshan bounty hunter, Rarsk.

"The target's name is Albea," she reported. "A Republic xenobiologist, recently attached to Taris. She's been studying the rakghouls, working on a vaccine against their venom."

Rakghouls were the dominant native species remaining on Taris – hulking beasts that attacked any living thing that crossed their paths. Their venom was highly toxic, but it didn't kill its victims – It transformed them into rakghouls themselves.

"The Empire thinks the Republic intends to weaponize the venom," Mako continued. "Immunize Republic citizens against it while preparing to spread it among the Empire."

Cipher cut in. "Ridiculous paranoia," she said. "My contacts tell me they've gotten exactly nowhere with the vaccine." Had she been overseeing the op, she would not interfere in any way with the scientists' efforts to find a vaccine. She would even have planted a top-level Imperial scientist to help with the effort… and to send back samples as they made progress. This bounty was foolish and short-sided. Probably the brainchild of some disgruntled Moff.

Zarek cast a knowing glance in her direction. "Your contacts, eh?"

Cipher felt herself flush slightly. Careless. That wasn't like her.

Zarek smirked as he turned back to Mako. "So this scientist is staying here?"

"Right across the hall," Mako confirmed. "She's pretty much barricaded herself in her room. Her transport arrives tomorrow at 9 am, boards at 9:30. I don't think she plans to set foot outside her door until she heads to the spaceport."

"Which makes that the most likely window for Rarsk to make his move," Zarek grunted. "You have ears on her room, in case he tries for her tonight?"

Mako nodded. "I'll know the second he's within a mile of the cantina."

They decided to sleep in shifts, each taking a turn monitoring Albea's room. Mako went first, then Zarek. When Cipher rose to relieve him, he told her to return to bed.

"Even after yesterday, you still don't trust me," she observed. "Why? What's your problem with me?"

"I don't like pirates," he replied. "I really don't like pirates. But I like you, Blade. Why do you think that is?"

She settled into the couch next to him. "Must be my charming smile," she said.

"By all accounts, The Red Blade is vicious. When The Blade takes prisoners, it's to torture them before spacing them. Not for information – just for fun. Doesn't sound much like someone who takes a minute to clear the top floor of a factory before blowing it. Or who jumps into a beast pit to rescue some bounty hunter she's just met."

"What can I say? I'm whimsical." He grunted, continued to stare at her. "Well, it's my shift," she said. "I can't make you go to bed, but I'm staying up either way."

They sat in silence for a moment. Cipher synced her implants with Mako's devices, monitoring the perimeter in the background.

"Can I ask you something?" she said. Zarek glanced at her. "Why the fixation with The Great Hunt?"

"Fame and fortune," he said with a shrug. "Every bounty hunter who's won a Hunt has gone on to glory and riches."

"Sure," she said. "But why jump through Nem'ro's hoops to get into this Hunt? You're good. You wait for the next one, you could spend the time lining up a sponsor who won't drop you into a beast pit."

He let out a long, weary sigh.

"Tell me if you recognize these names," he said. "And no cheating and surfing the holonet with your implants."

She raised her right hand. "Pirate's honor," she vowed.

"Jewl'a Nightbringer," he said, ticking names off on his fingers. "Bloodworthy. The Defenestrator."

She nodded at each name. "Everyone knows those names," she said.

"How about Malek Thran?" he asked. "Or Marit'zta Cythee?"

She looked blank. He nodded meaningfully.

"Those first three?" he said. "All Great Hunt winners. The other two? They were just as good as Nightbringer or Bloodworthy. Better even. But they never got sponsored for The Great Hunt. And these days, only us veterans even remember their names."

"You're afraid that will be you," she said.

"I'm not getting any younger," he said. "I'm not as fast or as strong as I was at twenty. I'm a whole lot smarter, though – And I'm still fast and strong enough for that to make up the difference."

He rose, walked to the window. Stared out at the smog, visible even at night as it hung over the city.

"Braden, the man who rented this room?" he said. "Five years ago, he'd have killed the men who ambushed him without a thought. But he just wasn't fast enough anymore." He looked back at her, saw she was listening intently. "By the next Hunt, I won't be able to say I'm at my peak. It's this Hunt or nothing. My last chance to be someone people will remember."

She nodded her understanding.

"You should get some sleep," she told him. "My implants are monitoring everything here. I won't let the Trandoshan come, or the target go, without waking you."

He rubbed the back of his neck. It was stiff.

"You're right," he admitted. He turned to the bedroom, then glanced back. "One more thing," he said. "Your Corellian accent's good, but it slips a little on the vowel sounds. I doubt Nem'ro noticed, but you might want to watch out for that."

She sat on the couch, not reacting in any way. He grinned and gave a mock salute before withdrawing.

Mako's sensors detected Rarsk entering the cantina the next morning, about two hours before Albea's scheduled transport. The Trandoshan ordered some snacks and a synthesized fruit drink. He sat in a corner booth, baring his teeth at anyone who even thought of approaching him.

"Waiting for her to head out to the spaceport," Zarek guessed. "Probably follow her when she leaves, pull her into an alley."

"Is that how you'd do it?" Cipher asked.

"The bounty specifies dead," Zarek replied. "I'm no assassin – I don't take those jobs."

"Your egg merchants are here," Mako informed Cipher.

Cipher checked the implants. Sure enough, the man selling the rancor egg had arrived. A small-time hustler and sometime spice merchant named Getzo. Juda's report indicated that he had spent months trying to get Nem'ro's blessing for his various self-financed enterprises. When he proved beneath Nem'ro's notice, he had sold out to Fa'athra.

"Showtime," Cipher announced. "Can you handle Rarsk?"

"In my sleep," Zarek said confidently. "Meet you at the spaceport."

They left Braden's suite. Zarek walked briskly out the door, taking care not to even glance at Rarsk. If the Trandoshan noticed him at all, he did an excellent job of hiding it.

Cipher lingered in the cantina, ordering some juice. She walked to Getzo's table and sat opposite him. The idiot had the carbonite storage container out in the open, on the table in front of him.

"Hey, pretty." His smile revealed teeth that were half-rotted from spice use. "Normally, I'd love to chat, but I'm waiting for someone."

In a single, fluid motion, she drew a blade from her belt and pressed it against the man's belly.

"Don't say a word, Getzo," she advised.

He stiffened. His eyes were practically popping out of their sockets.

"Today is your lucky day," she said. "You have something Nem'ro wants, but he sent me to collect it. That means you get to live, as long as you hand it over right now."

Getzo gulped.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

She pressed the blade forward, just a little bit. Just enough for him to feel its sharpness. His face went pale.

She inclined her head toward the storage container. "The egg, please."

His eyes pleaded with her. "Fa'athra will kill me!" he protested.

"If he doesn't, then Nem'ro will," she said bluntly. "Your only chance is to get off Hutta on the next transport, and hope they're too busy with each other to send anyone after you. What can I say? You should have stuck to small-time hustles."

Getzo took a moment to consider his options. She could summon no pity for this pathetic parasite in human skin. Whether the Hutts pursued him or not, she fully expected him to be dead within six months.

He slid the egg over. "You're a cold one, lady."

She gave a thin, hard smile. "You have no idea," she replied. "Now, I suggest you run."

He got up from the table and walked quickly to the door. His wild eyes darted in all directions. She could see him break into a run before the cantina door had closed behind him.

She picked up the storage container. It was dense, and required most of her arm strength to hold it level. Getzo was too small-time to afford an antigrav unit, she reflected. If he had even thought of it. She doubted he had thought further ahead than the spice he would buy with his payday.

She carried her burden across the cantina and out the door. Fortunately, it was a short walk to Nem'ro's Palace, but she would need to be alert for any potential robbery along the way.

Zarek picked an alley close to the cantina and settled on the ground, cross-legged. The cantina's entrance was in his eye-line. He would see Albea's approach, and would see Rarsk when he left to follow her. He ducked his head and let it loll a bit to the side. Anyone looking at him would assume he was high on spice.

It took less than an hour for Albea to appear. She looked anxious, and walked briskly toward the spaceport. Rarsk was a few feet behind her. She was clearly aware of him, and walked faster.

Trandoshans, however, have more speed than humans. Rarsk closed the gap in seconds, and shoved her into the alley.

"Hello, soft thing," he snarled, pulling a knife. "Is nothing personal, but Empire has put great bounty on you."

Albea held up her hands. "Stay back!" she cried.

Rarsk's reptilian face grinned as he approached. He held his knife low, blade up.

"Be still," he said. "This won't hurt… much."

"Oh, I think it might," Zarek announced. He had pulled out his blaster while Rarsk approached, and now held it aimed at the back of the Trandoshan's head. He glanced at Albea. "I'd run, if I were you. And don't go anywhere else without guards to protect you."

Albea nodded, stammering her thanks as she ran out of the alley.

"Is mistake to interfere with hunt," Rarsk growled.

"Is big mistake," Zarek agreed. "But you can live to hunt another day. Just hand over Nem'ro's token."

Rarsk turned around slowly, to face Zarek. He took in the Zabrak horns, the red skin, and laughed.

"You Zarek!" he realized. "Foolish bounty hunter who Nem'ro controls with false promises."

Zarek ignored the insult. "You have three seconds to hand over the token," he said.

"You are nothing," Rarsk said. "Just another soft thing. I am Trandoshan, born to hunt!"

"One," Zarek counted.

"Tarro Blood doesn't want you in Great Hunt," Rarsk continued. "Smart hunter would take the hint."

"Two," Zarek said.

"Is shame Tarro Blood must win. But just being in Hunt is great honor. Scorekeeper will award many points."

"Three."

The Trandoshan moved fast, lowering his head and barreling forward. It was almost fast enough.

But Zarek's finger was already on the trigger. As the Trandoshan's weight hit, he fired. Rarsk slumped. Zarek fired a second time, then shoved his rival's body away from him.

He searched the corpse, and found the token. A simple coin, with Nem'ro's hideous face stamped onto the front.

Mako's voice came through his earpiece.

"That was close," she observed.

"Closer than I'd like," he acknowledged.

He remembered what he had told Cipher, about getting a little slower each year, and hoped it was not already too late.

Another meeting with Nem'ro, this one a quick one. He was pleased with the delivery of the rancor egg, and thus in a benevolent mood when Zarek appeared with his coin.

"You have my token," Nem'ro announced, "and with it, my recognition as the most fearsome hunter on Hutta. From here, you go to Dromund Kaas. Shuttle passes for you and little Mako will be waiting at the spaceport." He threw his spindly Hutt arms wide. "Go to the Great Hunt and spread the glory of Nem'ro the Hutt!"

Zarek left immediately after, to begin preparations for his departure. Cipher took her own leave of Nem'ro, returning to her quarters.

After a quick scan for listening devices, she activated her holo-communicator, and Keeper appeared before her. His expression was even graver than normal.

"I'm afraid your mission has become more complicated," he told her. "There have been… unforeseen circumstances."

Cipher braced herself for the worst. "Unforeseen circumstances" was basically Imperial Intelligence's euphemism for "Sith."

"Late last night," Keeper told her, "Karrels Javis's sons encountered a Sith apprentice in Imperial space. Details are unclear, but one son died and the other was crippled."

Cipher swore aloud. "Sith," she snapped, her frustration making her bitterness unmistakable.

She caught her indiscretion immediately, stopped herself from saying anything further.

"The Sith do what they will," Keeper said. "We don't control them, and we don't pass judgment on them. That doesn't mean we obey them without question… But we phrase those questions carefully, and we bide our time."

Which was more than he should have said. Clearly, he was frustrated as well.

"I apologize, sir." Not for her bitterness, but for potentially exposing both herself and Keeper with her indiscretion.

Keeper turned back to business. "Obviously, we will no longer be able to use Karrels to get to Nem'ro. Once he learns of today's events, his sympathy for the Empire will evaporate. So we will have to improvise. First, we need to put Karrels out of the way. Immediately."

"Is there no other way?"

"It's unfortunate," Keeper said briskly, "but it's the only way to proceed. Nem'ro is already expecting retaliation from Fa'athra, so we will use that. Program a security spike with Republic jamming protocols, and use it to deactivate the security devices in Karrels's office. Make sure to leave the spike."

"So when Nem'ro's people investigate, it will look like the Republic helped Fa'athra kill Karrels," she observed.

It was a good plan. Not as elegant as their original strategy – This was a patch-up job, after all – but it tracked. With Fa'athra's mining operations disrupted and his financial accounts crashed, he would lack resources to get his revenge directly. It would be easy for Nem'ro to conclude that his rival had turned to the Republic for help.

She acknowledged Keeper's instructions, then ended the conversation. She spent the next thirty minutes reprogramming a security spike with the latest Republic jamming protocols.

Her next step was her least favorite type of mission: the assassination of a man who considered her a friend. All thanks to the Sith, and their ability to scatter the most carefully laid plans with their temper tantrums.

She reflected, not for the first time, that the Empire would be unstoppable… If only they could get rid of the Sith.