A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY…
STAR WARS
The Old Republic – Episode Eight
THE DEMOCRATIZATION OF FEAR
It is a pivotal time for the SITH EMPIRE. With the galaxy
observing an uneasy peace, IMERIAL INTELLIGENCE must
not only weaken the Empire's enemies at every opportunity,
but ensure internal security as well.
On DROMUND KAAS, the Empire's capital, Sith and loyal
Imperial citizens celebrate their glorious civilization.
But many hidden threats lurk. Agent CIPHER NINE, newly
returned from a successful operation on Hutta, has been
called to Intelligence headquarters for debriefing…
Chapter One: The Ways of the Sith
The Citadel stood at the heart of Kaas City. It was a mammoth spire, a dark column jutting so high into the sky that it pierced the clouds. If the existence of Kaas City was the Empire's expression of dominance over the jungle planet, then the Citadel expressed dominance over the capital itself.
The highest levels of the Citadel were reserved for the Sith, displaying their power over all. Within their Sanctum, the members of the Dark Council met to create decrees and to plot against the Republic. Or, more often, each other.
Thankfully, the Sith Sanctum was not Cipher Nine's destination. She and her unwelcome charge, one-time terrorist Kaliyo Djannis, were bound to the lower levels, where Imperial Intelligence worked to maintain the Empire - too often in spite of its overlords' efforts.
The two women, Cipher a cybernetically-enhanced human and Kaliyo a bald and tattooed Rattataki, had drawn many stares on their trek across the city. Some were glares of hostility, only slightly less disapproving of the cyborg than the alien. Others were intrigued at the exotic pair. As they neared Intelligence headquarters, however, people started to turn away, avoiding eye contact.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Kaliyo purred.
Cipher scowled. "What feels good?"
"The fear. Everyone's afraid of you. I mean, you are the freakin' secret police." She grinned. "I guess I should say we are."
Cipher didn't bother replying. She walked past the Imperial guards to the secure door.
"Cipher Nine, Call Sign 'Nightshrike,' Juliet-Alpha-74982," she announced.
A laser scanner swept her body, matching her retina and DNA to the announced designation. The door slid open, revealing armed security droids. They did not move as Cipher strode past, but their sensors were alert to Kaliyo's every step.
"I don't think they like me very much," Kaliyo said.
"Doubtless they need to be exposed to more of your charm," Cipher replied. "Come. We shouldn't leave Keeper waiting."
It had been two years since Cipher had last been at Imperial Intelligence, and she saw few familiar faces at the assorted monitors. Her old peers had doubtless been sent on their own missions – or had been judged failures, to be either remanded to the military or disposed of.
The specs of Intelligence HQ were blocked from her cybernetics, but it didn't matter. She knew every centimeter. She knew the role of each monitoring station and, based on the importance of each station, could guess the ranks of the agents assigned to them. As agents glanced her way, she measured their expressions, alert for signs of disapproval. Unnecessary in the wake of her recent successes, but the techniques she had learned for survival and advancement were deeply ingrained.
A pale young woman greeted her at the door to Keeper's office. Her uniform identified her as a Watcher, an analyst responsible for processing data.
"Watcher Two," she said, introducing herself. "Keeper is expecting you."
Her voice was clipped, cold, emotionless. Training or genetic enhancement, Cipher wondered?
Watcher Two turned to Kaliyo. "You are to wait here. I will handle your debriefing."
"Guess I don't get to hang out with the cool kids," Kaliyo complained.
Cipher gave her a look, a nonverbal warning to remain on best behavior. Kaliyo gave an almost imperceptible nod. She might enjoy chaos, but she wasn't stupid. She would create no problems here.
The door to Keeper's office slid shut behind Cipher, cutting her off from her companion. Keeper stood at the center of the room, his eyes flicking between several holographic images. She caught a Republic news feed at the upper left. Though Keeper was facing away from her, he somehow sensed the direction of her gaze.
"The Republic Senate has decided to retain HAVOC Squad as an active force," he said. "Unfortunate, but still only a mild cushion to the blow we dealt them. Congratulations are in order. You played Tavus perfectly. Not to mention your accomplishments on Hutta and the Brentaal Star."
Cipher recalled her shock at coming face-to-face with the Imperial defector on the Brentaal Star.
"I still can't believe he would turn to the Republic," she said.
"Sadly, loyalty is something that can never be assumed. Anyone can turn traitor. The weak will turn for riches or out of resentment. The strong will turn when they believe they are serving a higher purpose. No one is more dangerous than a man who is certain he is doing the right thing."
He turned at that statement, fixing her with his piercing gaze.
"Be sure you never make the mistake of placing your judgment above that of the Emperor."
A small part of Cipher panicked, wondered if Keeper had somehow learned of her transmission to Jedi Grandmaster Satele Shan. But she stared back evenly, giving no sign of doubt, until he finally gave a small nod.
"Your performance has been impressive," he observed. "You're neither sadistic nor weak. You use violence as a tool to be employed when needed, not as a crutch. Many agents fail to find this balance."
"Thank you, sir."
Keeper's posture shifted, a very slight softening that made his age and weariness much more apparent.
"Ours is not a glamorous profession," he said. "We are sanitation workers. We clean up after the military and the Sith, and we do the jobs no one else will. Without us, the Empire falls apart, but we will never receive recognition for our successes – though blame for failure comes swiftly and severely."
A slight sadness in his eyes as he looked at her.
"Your successes have attracted notice," he said. "Darth Jadus has become interested in you."
"You mentioned he was monitoring the Hutta operation," she said. "Do you have any idea why?"
Keeper gave a short, humorless laugh. "One does not ask 'why' of a Sith. All I know is that he requested your presence in his office the moment you finished your debriefing. You are to go alone."
Cipher felt a stab of terror in the center of her chest. Any interaction with a Sith was dangerous. An audience with a member of the Dark Council was a brush with Death Incarnate.
She took a steadying breath, refusing to allow her fear to show. "Do you have further questions for me before I go?"
Keeper shook his head. "Best to get it over with. I wish you well."
He turned back to the monitors. She hesitated in spite of herself, her mind searching for anything that might delay her audience with Jadus. But there was nothing.
"Thank you, sir."
She managed to keep her voice steady as she turned and left the office.
Two acolytes stood at the lift to the Sith Sanctum. A man and woman, both young. The woman's face was decorated with multi-colored tattoos that Cipher imagined had been terribly painful.
They practically hissed at her as she approached, lewdness and violence in their eyes.
"I have an audience with Darth Jadus," she announced.
Their aggression vanished in an instant. The woman actually took a step back.
"Top floor," the male acolyte said. Cipher imagined she saw a hint of pity in his eyes.
Wonderful. She was on her way to meet a Sith who made other Sith terrified.
She spent the lift ride taking deep breaths, drawing air in through her nose and out through her mouth. The higher the lift went, the more her anxiety grew. The air seemed to grow heavier, her lungs working harder to process it with each new breath.
She reached the top floor, and the instant she stepped out of the lift, her cybernetics cut out. All off them. She could not access the holonet, she could not monitor her heart rate or respiration, she had no infrared to see in the dark. Her only remaining senses were biological.
She glanced about. She was in an ordinary hallway: No red tint to the lighting, no pulsing noises, no screams of the damned. It could have been a corridor linking any set of offices. But everything felt oppressive, and the floor itself seemed to drain her energy.
She realized that she didn't know exactly where Darth Jadus's office was. There was no visible directory, nobody of whom she could ask directions. She wondered if she should knock on a random door, and then wondered if doing so would be tempting fate. Maybe she should get back in the lift and ask the terrified acolytes.
Suddenly, her feet began moving of their own volition. She became a passenger in her own body, her renegade feet taking her through a doorway, then down another hall. She grew weaker with each new step, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.
A door opened, and she came to a halt in a room that she assumed was Darth Jadus's office. Much like the hallway, the room was almost disappointing in its ordinariness. If anything, it was even less imposing than Keeper's workspace. Ordinary overhead lighting. A holoscreen, switched off. A simple desk, with a simple chair.
Yet Cipher's nerves screamed in protest at just being here. When the man in the silver helmet stepped into view, it took all her will not to prostrate herself on the ground before him. She forced herself to remain upright, staring directly at the figure, the man who had to be Darth Jadus.
He seemed amused by her exertion.
"An hour ago," he said, "the Minister of Intelligence dropped to his knees and wept before me. Yet you remain on your feet. You were the agent sent to Hutta, correct?"
His voice was soft, the words rising and falling in pitch like music. At the same time, the helmet lent a metallic undertone. The contrast was both hypnotic and unnerving.
Cipher focused on her reply. A simple affirmative: Yes, my Lord. Give no additional information, just what was requested. That was what she willed herself to say.
It wasn't what came out.
"Why do I feel like I'm about to die?" Her voice thin, wispy, pathetic.
When Jadus answered, she was surprised that he sounded gentle, even kind.
"Your body reacts to the power of the Force. The Dark Side twists you, taints you. Cease your resistance. Allow your body to betray you, your blood to boil and your heart to slow. This is inoculation, Agent. It is a sacred rite. You are privileged."
Her vision dimmed and blurred, until her senses were as dead as her cybernetics. She could no longer feel the floor, or the heat of the overhead lights. A corner of her mind begged her to resist. She could not. The last of her strength was gone. Her consciousness fled.
The air itself seemed to catch her, cocooning her as she fell. Jadus's voice enveloped her.
"The ways of the Sith are the ways of the Empire," he intoned. "So it is, and so it shall always be."
Then the voice faded, and she was aware of nothing at all.