Chapter Two: "You Can't Spend Credit If You're Dead"

Consciousness returned. That was the first surprise.

She was back in the lift, descending to the ground floor. Back to Intelligence. She checked herself. Everything was in place. Her cybernetics were active again, and she did a quick check of her life signs. She was uninjured, and if anything physical had been done to her, there was no sign of it. She almost sunk to the floor in relief.

She reviewed the brief conversation with Jadus, separating the words and actions from the emotions she had felt. He had asked no questions beyond her identity. He had given no assignment, had made no demand.

So then... what had been the point?

"This is inoculation… A sacred rite. You are privileged."

His voice so bizarrely kind even as she collapsed. Had this been his idea of an introduction? A favor? Foreplay?

She shuddered at that last thought. But no. Unlike the crude acolytes, she had sensed no lust from him. He just… was. As much a monument to the Dark Side as the building in which he stood.

"What were you doing in the Sith Enclave?"

A man's deep voice barked at her, haughty with authority. She looked up to see a large figure in full Sith body armor. She had never met the man, but she recognized him immediately: Darth Baras, the Sith's own spymaster.

A young Pureblood Sith stood just behind him. A new apprentice, judging by his age and his unadorned cowl.

Baras's one good eye blazed at her from behind his helmet. "I asked you a question, girl. You're Intelligence, judging by your uniform. What business did you have in the Enclave?"

She straightened, as if at attention, and responded.

"An audience with Darth Jadus, my Lord."

"Jadus." His eye narrowed. "Why would Darth Jadus summon you?"

"I don't know, my Lord."

"Don't play dumb!" His voice lashed at her. "That man does nothing without purpose. What did he want?" Then the eye narrowed again, and his voice became like honey. "Or perhaps he ordered you not to tell?"

Cipher shook his head. "No such order, my Lord. I honestly don't know what his purpose was. It was a very short meeting, and I… I didn't really understand most of what he said."

Darth Baras glared intensely at her for a moment. No doubt using his Force senses to scan her. Between implants and training, Cipher could have resisted such a scan from a junior Sith - but not from someone like Baras.

"You're telling the truth." He sounded surprised. "What is your designation?"

"Cipher Nine, my Lord."

"Very well, Cipher Nine. Will you promise to contact me as soon as Darth Jadus says something comprehensible to you?"

Cipher hesitated, then shook her head in refusal.

"I'm sorry, my Lord. He did not make this meeting confidential, but that might not be true of the next one. If there is a next one. I cannot make that promise."

She could feel Baras's anger from behind his mask, and the next second seemed to stretch out for an eternity.

"I see," Baras grated. "I expect there will be a next one, young lady. When Darth Jadus turns his attention to someone, he doesn't simply lose interest. I expect he'll know that we spoke - but will you at least promise to keep the content of our conversation private?"

Cipher nodded, happy to be able to comply with at least one of the Sith's requests. "I can promise that much, my Lord."

Cipher Nine stepped away from the lift, grateful that the encounter was ending peacefully. The bulky Sith swept into the elevator, the young Pure Blood following silently in his wake.

Cipher took a breath to steady herself, then began walking back to headquarters.

"May I ask why that agent so troubled you, my Lord?"

Arkarix Krell could see that Darth Baras was disturbed. His Master paced restlessly around the small, spartan office. It had rattled him, this agent meeting with… Darth Jadus, was that the name?

"Is this Jadus a rival of yours?" he added.

"Never you mind about Darth Jadus."

Krell bowed in reply. "As you say, my Lord.

Baras sighed. Despite his last statement, he explained. "Even among the Dark Council, not all Sith are created equal. Darth Jadus is strong enough in the Dark Side to have earned the personal respect of the Emperor himself. For all his power, though, he has generally concerned himself with Sith philosophy, caring little for power plays. His interest in Intelligence is abnormal. That he turned to Imperial Intelligence instead of to my network is... concerning."

Krell considered this. Why would a Sith Lord bypass a Sith information network in favor of the mundane military? He could see why Baras was troubled; the most obvious reason would be that he was preparing to act against him.

Baras lowered himself into the chair in front of his small, plain desk. He raised his chin and spoke as a professor, testing a bright pupil.

"Do you know what the most powerful weapon in a Sith Master's arsenal is, apprentice?"

"His lightsaber," Krell answered confidently.

"No." Baras's voice sounded amused. "Even in the strongest hands, a lightsaber has only limited reach and application. The most powerful weapon is information. I have painstakingly built a vast network of spies and operatives. They are embedded throughout the Sith, the Republic, even the Jedi. I have fingers, eyes, and ears everywhere."

Krell felt his eyes widen. "You've successfully infiltrated the Jedi Order?"

"Yes." A note of pleasure in Baras's voice at impressing his new apprentice. "I track our enemy, weakening and influencing them from within. Waiting to strike."

The Sith Lord leaned forward, toward Krell. "You are to be my enforcer," he boomed. "I will deploy you to protect my interests, intimidate my rivals, and destroy my enemies. It is time for your tenure to begin."

Krell bowed his head. "I am honored, my Lord."

Baras continued talking, as if the young man had not even spoken. "A military starship is touching down at the Kaas City cargo port this afternoon. It carries a… package of vital importance to me. You will meet Commander Lanklyn there and make sure he and his men successfully offload it."

Krell frowned. The task seemed more menial than Baras's description of his duties. "Is this Lanklyn incompetent?" he asked.

"He is reliable enough," Baras replied. "But we must always be vigilant. If Darth Jadus is going around me, then nothing can be taken for granted."

"You believe Jadus is plotting against you?"

"I do not know. I detest not knowing things. It's easy to defeat an attack you see coming. It's the one you don't expect that ends up destroying you." Baras turned toward his desk and away from Krell. "You will find the relevant information about the delivery in your PADD. Please make sure you are at the cargo port on time. That is all."

Kaas City, Vette reflected. Where freedom goes to die and where legends are forced upon an unsuspecting galaxy.

And where lowly slaves do the shopping.

Vette had spent the morning gathering ingredients for a noxious dish that was apparently a favorite of Arkarix Krell. Her Master, she thought with distaste. The dish was Blood Worm Stew, and the name alone made her stomach lurch.

She had made two attempts at cooking it during the flight from Korriban to Dromund Kaas. The first time, she had painstakingly followed the recipe in the ship's databanks, holding her breath against the foul broth and pungent spices. She had not realized, however, that the worms were meant to be served alive. She suspected she wouldn't have been punished for her error if Darth Baras had not been present. But Krell could not risk appearing weak in front of his new Master, and so he had set off her shock collar, delivering a painful electric jolt.

The second attempt had gone worse. Much worse. After searching the holonet, she had learned that Blood Worms needed blood to survive – which, given their name, made sense. Lacking another source, she had sliced her finger. A bit too deeply, though. The parasitic creatures had gorged, swelled, and then begun reproducing. After an ill-advised attempt to contain her blunder, Vette had finally called for help. The galley had been sealed off, the oxygen vented. Krell had employed the shock collar again, and she had been confined to their quarters for the rest of the flight.

I did say I didn't do domestic work, she thought defensively. But before he had left their luxurious penthouse quarters for his meeting with Baras, Krell had made clear that he expected the stew that night, and that he expected it to be edible.

Blood Worms. She gritted her teeth resentfully. What Sith found "edible" was disgusting even in concept.

Using the credit chit Krell had given her, she had purchased all the spices for the broth. Now she just needed the worms. It was not without anxiety that she entered the Sith specialty shop.

"No aliens!" a gruff voice called as she entered. A sharp reply came to mind, but she bit it back and instead raised her chin to expose the hated collar.

The shopkeeper, who looked mostly human but with heavy Sith features, grunted. "New on Dromund Kaas?" She nodded. "Have your Master get you a badge. You can get hurt bad if someone thinks you're an offworld agitator."

"No agitator," Vette chirped. "Just buying ingredients. Do you have Blood Worms?"

"How many?"

"Six. Fat ones, please."

She couldn't quite suppress a look of disgust at the request. The shopkeeper laughed. "Not too appetizing for you?" He shrugged. "Yeah, my mother was a quarter Sith. She insisted on making me eat them a couple of times. Disgusting. Then again, in a Sith's eyes, I'm almost as much a mongrel as you are."

Vette felt herself relax at his change in tone. The man apparently wasn't quite as virulent an anti-alien bigot as he'd first seemed.

"Do you have any… blood?" She flushed, aware how strange the request sounded. "To keep the worms alive in the stew?"

He glanced at her bandaged finger. "Let me guess: You tried cutting and ended up with a problem?" He shrugged again. "We have synthetic blood. I'm guessing your Master's part Sith. About how much Sith?"

"He's a Pure Blood."

The shopkeeper froze. "A Pure Blood." He seemed almost in awe.

"Are they that rare?"

He shook his head. "Not quite on the endangered list yet, but even here Pure Bloods aren't common, and they get a little rarer each generation."

"If you don't mind my asking, how do they react to... Well..." She gestured at him hesitantly, not wanting to offend.

"Mutts like me?" He gave a short laugh. "Depends on the Pure Blood. Some, the ones who see that the pure race is dying, are just happy to have Sith blood passed down, even if it's diluted. Others - the fanatics - consider all mixed bloods to be an affront. Particularly a non-Force sensitive like me."

"That doesn't scare you?"

"Sure it does. But there's nothing I can do about it, so why worry?" He glanced at her finger again. "I have just the thing for you. Wait here."

He disappeared in the back. He came back a moment later with a small box and handed it to her. Inside was a needle and a miniature sterilization unit.

"Don't even think of serving synthetic blood to a Pure Sith. You'll be lucky if he doesn't skin you for it. Sterilize the needle, then prick your finger. Just enough to get a few drops. Three drops into the broth, absolutely no more. What you want is the worms to be just barely alive - enough to wriggle when poked, but otherwise dormant."

She stared at the needle, feeling vaguely lightheaded. "Did I mention I hate needles?"

Another grunt, another shrug. He might as well have spoken aloud: No one cares what a slave hates.

She closed the box, accepted it. "Thank you," she said.

"I'll get your worms."

A minute later, he handed her a clear container. Six fat worms wriggled inside. She shuddered and had to force herself to accept it.

She reached for her credit chit. He waved a hand. "Only Pure Blood who's come in this week is Darth Baras's new apprentice. Just send my compliments to your Master. My name's Dario Tullyn. Unless you screw up the dish, in which case you never heard of me."

He smiled. The expression looked strange on him.

"You seem like a good kid, for a tailhead," he said. "Do your work and keep your mouth shut, and you'll be OK. You get used to anything, right?"

She was surprised how moved she was by the kindness in his voice, so moved that the anti-alien slur barely registered. No one had spoken warmly to her in... No, it hadn't actually been that long. It was just that everything before Korriban felt like another life.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, then stumbled toward the door.

"Dario Tullyn!" he reminded her. "And don't forget to get a badge so everyone can see you're a slave. Dromund Kaas isn't kind to aliens!"

Officially, Kaas City's Alien Sector was a separate but equal portion of the larger city, a place where The Empire's nonhuman citizens could live comfortably among their own kind while contributing to the greater good.

In reality, it was a ghetto, an ill-kept slum that lumped together all species that were neither human nor Sith, regardless of cultural or biological differences. Wealthy and influential aliens were exempt from the requirement to live or stay here, as were members of the military or civil branches.

The result was a sector that housed only the poor and unvalued. Low-wage food service and hospitality workers lived here when off-shift, while nonhuman shopkeepers tried desperately to make ends meet. Crime was high, though never overt enough to spill out to the human parts of the city, and the permanent residents wore identical expressions of hopelessness as they struggled through their days.

It was here that Zarek Voss was left to seek lodging. A lowly bounty hunter could not hope to stay in the central city. Mako would have been allowed; but given Taro Blood's previous attack that had ended with the death of her mentor, they both agreed it was safest to stay together.

They had checked into their lodgings, a cramped and windowless room with two battered cots. It had been cut out of the building's attic, and it reeked of mold and rodent droppings. Zarek expected Mako to register disgust, but she accepted the situation placidly.

"I've stayed in worse," she said.

"Still smells better than Hutta," Zarek agreed.

They didn't open their bags, just dumping them onto the two beds. Mako paused in a way Zarek now recognized; she was checking her implants, reviewing the layout of the city and their next destination.

"The Mandalorian Enclave is in the Citadel," she said after a moment. "Our contact is Crysta Markon. Human female. Former Great Hunt competitor, defeated in the second round about fifteen years ago."

So their handler was someone who had taken her shot and failed. Not surprising – the winners were doubtless advising Mandalorian competitors. He counted himself lucky to have someone with experience of The Hunt on his team at all.

"I have the most direct route," Mako announced. "Let's go."

"Just a sec." Zarek rifled in his bag and removed a shock plate, which he carefully set up in front of the door. Anyone attempting to enter their room would receive a nasty surprise. "OK."

They headed out, Mako leading the way. They were stopped at an Imperial checkpoint, leading into the center of the city.

"What is your destination?" a bored sergeant asked.

Zarek let Mako speak for both of them. She was human and she was pretty, both of which lessened the chance of trouble.

Unless, of course, trouble was already lying in wait.

"We're going to the Mandalorian Enclave," Mako said.

The sergeant roused, his eyes narrowing. He beckoned to two guards, who came toward them with weapons drawn.

"Is there an issue?" Mako asked. "Our clearances are in order."

The sergeant ignored her, focusing on Zarek.

"I am Sergeant Wallax of the Imperial Navy." His tone was now clipped, official, no trace of his previous torpor. "You are commanded to hand over all of your weapons and gear immediately."

Zarek and Mako exchanged a look. This was not a casual case of a bored Imperial playing "bait the alien." This man had been waiting for them.

Zarek drew himself up to full height, towering over the Imperial. "You're a funny man," he growled. "You think of that joke all by yourself?"

Wallax reached for his blaster. "Don't get cute, offworld scum. You're an outsider here. I can shoot you just as easily as bring you in."

Despite the threat, Zarek could read the fear in the man's eyes.

"You were told to stop aliens heading for the Mandalorian Enclave, weren't you?" Zarek pressed. "Who's paying you, I wonder. Is it... Taro Blood?"

Recognition flickered in the sergeant's eyes, and he took an involuntary step back. "Guards!" he shouted.

But the guards had lost their eagerness to intervene. Their weapons, previously aimed at Zarek, now were lowered toward the ground.

"I don't know what's going on, Sergeant," one guard said, "but I know that it stinks."

"Yeah," the second man said. "Either cut us in, or deal with that giant on your own."

Sergeant Wallax's eyes darted from side to side. Zarek could read the calculation: How much money would he lose? Could he stop the bounty hunter alone?

Zarek casually reached for his belt, not actually touching his holster but making sure his hand was near it. "You can't spend credits if you're dead," he said.

Mako drifted off to the side while the three Imperials focused on Zarek. Once she was in position, she drew her blaster and pointed it straight at the nearest guard.

Wallax triggered his communicator. "Command! Command, come in!"

Mako shook her head. "I've disabled your communicators," she said. "Help isn't coming."

The two guards sheathed their weapons.

"Whatever this is, we want no part of it," the first guard said. "We'll forget everything we've seen for fifty credits. Right, Calder?"

The second guard, Calder, agreed. "The sergeant got himself into this."

"Your ID," Mako said.

The two guards recited their ID numbers. Mako got that distant look for a second, then smiled. "Fifty credits, deposited in each of your accounts. The record will show the transfer came from Zarek, just in case you decide to try something."

"We're good," Calder said firmly. "The sergeant here is taking payoffs from two rival Alien Sector gangs. I guess those alien scum caught wind of it and gave him what was coming to him."

Wallax was backing away. "What are you talking about?" he blathered. "You can't – "

Zarek moved with a speed that belied his size, drawing a blade as he closed on Wallax. He kicked the Imperial's legs out from under him, then caught him from behind and slit his throat.

Mako didn't flinch. Neither did the guards.

"Yeah, looks just like a gang hit," Calder observed. "Anway, we're going to do a quick round of this block. We'll report the sergeant's death when we find him in a few minutes. Be gone when we get back here."

The guards walked off, neither sparing a glance at the sergeant's corpse.

Mako looked at the sergeant's body, disgust and outrage on her face.

"I wonder how many competitors Blood's had arrested or killed this way," she fumed. "I don't think this was set just for us. They were waiting for anyone going to the Enclave. We should report it to the Huntmaster."

Zarek shook his head. "We don't have proof tying it to Taro Blood," he said. "We'd just get ourselves kicked out for accusing a Mandalorian."

"So he gets away with it again."

"For now," Zarek said. "Don't worry. We'll get our chance. And when we do, he will regret crossing us."