For two days, the Grey Condor traveled through the hyperspace tunnel heading towards Alderaan. The Major explained that Imperial vessels were seldom welcome in the Core region. They needed to travel carefully, avoiding scouts from the Republic Fleet, and other astronomical obstacles that often strayed into the hyper tunnels.
Bradin told Plasma everything about his long vacation. He described the endless fields of Dantooine, the small, peaceful farm where they stayed for three months, how their honeymoon rejuvenated their marriage; he spoke proudly of his daughter, Jordana, and how she had graduated from the Military Academy, top of the class, with near perfect scores in every single discipline – most notably marksmanship, piloting, and engineering.
The Major, as usual, wore his impeccable uniform, placing each one of his twenty-seven medals with care and attention onto the chest of his jacket.
Plasma felt that the most important, and fearsome, part of his mission was coming, and he was glad he was not alone for them. Bradin's help would be invaluable. It was good having company again.
One night, as Bradin and Plasma talked heartily to each other, the HoloNet terminal beeped loudly. The Major adjusted his uniform and put on his cap, and Plasma wore his cape before answering the call. The silhouette of Admiral Juna appeared as a blue hologram. She saluted Plasma; Bradin saluted her.
"My Lord Plasma," Juna said. "I believe congratulations are in order."
Plasma thanked her; she continued, typing into a console. The Condor's computers lit up with information, files opening as she talked.
"We have located the target, King Kjuty Kal. He has abandoned Alderaan and has taken refuge on a small nearby planet called Retta."
Admiral Juna delivered a full report in twenty minutes. She told Darth Plasma everything she could find, offering her own assessments, and suggesting possible courses of action. Kjuty Kal had fled Alderaan to escape the civil war that devastated his home planet.
Retta was a small planet in the Coreward Region, roughly two-thousand lightyears from the Republic Capital world of Coruscant. The Imperial Intelligence file stated that Kjuty Kal had rebranded himself from Baron to King. He was ambitious, and his ultimate goal was to return to Alderaan as its true King, overpowering both the Republic-aligned House Organa and the Imperial ally House Thul.
The planet Retta had been discovered just recently. It had a diverse selection of biomes, mainly grasslands, forests, temperate jungles, and frozen deserts. Its greatest advantage, though, was that it lacked exploitable commodities. Shortly after its discovery, Retta became a corporate-owned planet, acquired by the Corellian Interplanetary Resorts, a subsidiary of Corellian Engineering Corporation, and transformed into a resort for the wealthiest of the Galaxy.
"We have also discovered," Admiral Juna continued. "That the Republic have sent an emissary to Retta; it appears to be a Jedi Knight, whose objective is to secure the allegiance of House Kal."
"That would be the perfect cover for us," Bradin Zhatt observed. The Admiral agreed; the ship's computers beeped.
"Precisely, Major. I have transferred a set of diplomatic documentations. You are officially emissaries of the Empire – with the very same objective."
"And, as such, we have official permission to land on Retta and support Lord Plasma's mission," Bradin concluded, clearly impressed.
"Me and my fleet will be stationed in a nearby system," Juna explained. "We will be on standby should our assistance become necessary."
Plasma thanked her with hesitant excitement, and the call ended.
Plasma ordered B9-R9 to recalculate their route. In the meantime, Plasma and Bradin discussed their plan of action and possible strategies while gearing up.
"The cover of diplomacy will put you inside the castle," Bradin said. "Once you find your sister, exfiltrate her to the Condor. I will stay with the ship and prepare the countermeasures. Should they offer heavy resistance, I will contact the Fleet and assist you in battle."
"Understood," Plasma responded. He adjusted the lightsaber hilt on his belt and loaded extra packs of kolto injections into his armor. He wore the respirator mask and flung the black cape over his shoulders.
Two hours later, there before them lay verdant Retta against the stars. The planet was a blue-and-green geoid, wrapped by a Type-1 atmosphere and one-point-two times the standard gravity. Its single moon was the color of blurred silver, completely inhospitable.
As the Grey Condor circled around a large moon and approached the planet, Plasma and Bradin saw that what they had thought to be an asteroid belt was actually a vast starship fleet orbiting the world. The vessels formed a blockade, and they all had large emblems of the Corellian Interplanetary Resorts. When the Sith approached, the Condor was hailed by a rather aggressive officer.
"Imperial vessel, identify yourself and state your business."
"This is Fury-class Imperial Interceptor NF-800," Bradin spoke into the comm. "Denomination Grey Condor. Transmitting ID and Manifesto."
"Please standby," the officer responded. Two Corellian starfighters flew by the Condor, escorting it through the blockade. A few seconds later, the officer said: "Diplomatic vessel, you are clear. Proceed to sector HY7 dash 4K, private property of King Kjuty Kal of Alderaan."
The Corellian fighters detached and retreated, and the Condor proceeded towards the surface, penetrating the atmosphere shortly after. Plasma seemed worried, and Bradin asked him why; the Sith responded:
"Admiral Juna will have problems with this blockade…"
The Major shook his head. She would not.
Plasma had only seen forests that beautiful on Neferas-V. Retta seemed like a perfect planet, with paradisiac landscapes, crystal-clear waters and waterfalls, fertile lands and despite the grandiose castles and fortress scattered along the surface. The Imperials observed that every single private estate had their own batteries of anti-aircraft artillery, huge triple-barreled cannons aimed at the sky. That was also the case for Kjuty Kal's estate.
The Condor approached the king's estate, constructed by a river that flowed from a massive waterfall fifty kilometers to the north. The castle lay encrusted at the center of an arrow-shaped peninsula; the windy river crossed the entire grassland and debouched at the sea, to the south.
The Imperials were cleared for landing on an outdoor pad, one kilometer from the fortress. As it descended, the ship caused mayhem to nature around it, terrifying critters with the roar of its turbines. The crew was told to stand-by for five minutes until an official escort arrived to greet them; Plasma and Bradin used that time to quickly review their plan.
"Stay alert," Bradin advised. "I saw four battalions of mercenaries patrolling the estate. I will obtain the area's blueprints and draw up a contingency plan, just to err on the side of caution."
Plasma nodded in agreement and shook hands with the Major one more time. A voice came through the communicator, and Plasma exited the ship. A delicious, cool breeze brushed against his furs. On another landing pad, three hundred meters to the West, there was a white and red Defender-class light corvette bearing the Galactic Republic crest. He took a deep, refreshing breath and looked yonder, at the castle
A dozen tall watchtowers surrounded the property, along with thick, girdling walls. There were banners and flags everywhere, just like in Imperial cities, bearing the coat-of-arms of the Kal family. Platoons and battalions of mercenary guards roamed around the perimeter, and there were sharpshooters nested along the walls and atop the towers. Two chromed, immense anti-craft turrets were set on both sides of the castle's courtyard. A small population of servants and vassals tended the land with ultra-tech machinery and bioengineered animals.
A female Iridonian and a female Twi'lek servant, both dressed in standard housemaid uniforms—high-collared dress and a light hat—greeted him at the pathway, along with three soldiers clad in golden armor, white cape, full helmets and carrying long electrostaves.
"Good morning, my Lord, welcome to the Castle of Kal," they said together. "We welcome your glorious presence. Please, accompany us to your chambers. Should you require any modifications, do not hesitate to contact us."
The palace was unbelievably spacious but, at the same time, crowded with servants. It was the first time Plasma had seen an interior decoration with real, live plants; gardeners tended to them seemingly non-stop; most of them did not seem native to Retta, and some plants had been placed inside snowy, frozen glass containers. There were also real paintings on the walls, made with real paint over canvas—exactly like the portrait of Myat and Puath in the ship.
Triple-high ceiling, shimmering chandeliers, decorative columns, carved with life-sized sculptures directly onto the marble. He caught a glimpse of a huge, domed great hall in the distance before entering an elevator.
Eleventh floor, guest room three-hundred and forty-two. As soon as the sliding door clicked shut behind him Plasma spoke in the commlink.
"Major, I'm in. Pinging my location." He pressed a button on his vambrace. "Have you contacted Juna?"
"Yes, sir. Admiral Juna reported that her Star-Destroyer and a fleet of fifteen hundred fighters are on stand-by one hyperjump away, hidden behind a black hole. Their presence should remain undetected."
"Excellent, Major. Stay vigilant, and report to me anything suspicious."
"As you command," Bradin responded quickly. "I'll monitor the palace's communication channels and keep the ship's radars active."
"When will the king see me?"
Plasma asked, but the servants said nothing. They came in hourly to bring him a wide selection of unrequested cuisines. The ultimate delicacy was the plainbeast tenderloin, from the plains of planet Cathar, a game prepared to perfection following the ancient recipes of his people; they brought him a bottle of high-quality cobalt frozenberry wine, harvestable only on Hoth, and a strange, little sweet pastry filled with a cream of chuffa fruit glaze.
The room was enormous, but Plasma used only the dining and living rooms. From up in the tower, through a circular wall of glass windows, he could see his and the Republic's ship, and the endless grasslands that disappeared behind the planet's curvature. He took that time to organize his equipment – extra kolto injections, two vials of adrenals, his personal communicator and holocom; he cleaned and polished his Sith Armor and his lightsaber hilt.
All he could think of was finding his sister. He could wander around the castle, locate Puath and take her away with him; but that was not what he wanted. He wanted his siter to willingly choose to leave with him, and that would require patience.
However, every time Plasma asked when his meeting with the king would be, the servants dismissed the question. They just smiled awkwardly. Eventually, with a bellyful of food, and tired from the journey, Darth Plasma fell asleep on the couch.
"Apologies for awakening you, my Lord," came a soft voice from the suite's intercom. "Breakfast will be served in the Royal Mess Room. Your Majesty Kjuty Kal will see you soon after."
Finally. Plasma took a cold shower to take his mind off the excitement. Anxiety would get the better of him if he let it. He put on his armor and headed to the dining hall, following a pair of servants.
The dining hall was a needlessly spacious chamber. To Plasma, it seemed that the wealthy adored unnecessary but beautiful things. Its furthermost wall was completely made of high-grade transparent steel that produced a wide panorama of a gorgeous tropical garden. Plasma, although impressed, tried not to care. At the moment, the only thing he cared for was the person standing nearby by a sixty-six-seat-table.
It was a Jedi. A real, live Jedi Knight, the first one he had ever seen since becoming Sith. He had been warned about the Jedi emissary but seeing her there changed everything. Memories from his training flooded his mind and his muscles twitched with subtle rage.
"It is a pleasure," the Jedi turned around and bowed at him. She had a glowing, dark skin and thick, puffy black hair. She wore a common set of Jedi robes, the color of fresh dirt, and a pair of knee-high leather boots. "I am Jedi Diplomat Dandra Medd."
"I am Darth Plasma," he responded proudly, expecting a reverence that never came. "Will it be only the two of us?"
"I suppose," she smiled. "The King should see us soon, as I've been told. Would you join me for breakfast?"
She pulled up a chair for him.
"Thank you," he surprised himself by smiling back at her. All that anger slowly vanished. Plasma flapped his cape away and sat down. Groups of servants walked in, each one carrying a silver tray. Plasma chose a glass of Bantha milk and a loaf of freshly baked bread.
"Will you eat only that?" Dandra asked innocently. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"
"Yes," he said seriously. "I eat this every day if I can; to remember."
He stopped chewing, and then gulped the food down. He did not know why he had told her that; why he had spoken the truth that way to a Jedi. She was the enemy, a powerful enemy as Darth Komm'ett had repeatedly welded into his brain over the years. However, he felt comfort and peace in Dandra's presence. She spoke softly and had a friendly visage.
"The Jedi is our enemy, apprentice," Komm'ett had repeated countless times. "But they are flawed. They offer mercy and do not fight to kill. Jedi Knights and Padawans are easy prey; but should you ever face a Jedi Master, do not underestimate them. The control they hold over the Force and their emotions will unbalance you."
Dandra Medd could very well be using a Force trick to manipulate his perceptions, he thought, and quickly dismissed it; there were no disturbances in the Force around him that he could detect.
Still, it was strange that he felt so comfortable in her presence. After two long minutes of awkward silence, Plasma took a deep breath and said suddenly, baring his heart at her.
"Dandra, I will need your help..."
She looked at him, with shock and expectation. Unbeknownst to the Sith Lord, her training had been more complete and vaster than his. She attended the Jedi Academy for more than fourteen years and had studied under some of the most powerful Jedi Masters in the Republic. The Cathar could very well be preparing a trap, or some sort of dark manipulation, to lower her defenses. She, too, had been extensively warned about the deceptions of the Sith.
"If I can help you," she said softly. "I will."
"I'll be honest with you…" he leaned closer to her across the table. "The Empire doesn't have any interest with this King Kal. I'm only here for just one reason…"
Dandra's eyes widened and she reacted by reaching for her lightsaber. Plasma smiled at her and shook his head.
"I'm not here to fight you," he said. "Although that is probably what the King wanted by putting us together here." Plasma shrugged. "It's just—"
"As polite you may be, Darth Plasma," she whispered. "You'll understand if I don't immediately trust you."
Plasma nodded.
"Would you go see the King with me?" he finally asked.
For a second Dandra did let her guard down. What she saw before her was not a ruthless Sith Lord, but more of a vulnerable child, scared of the unknown. Plasma seemed quite defensive, tense, but she felt no killing intent through the Force. Leaning there, he seemed smaller, as if constricted by the heavy burden of that armor.
"Yes, I would." she smiled at him. "If you don't mind my asking, why are you really here?"
"The King bought my sister as a slave from the Hutts a while ago," Plasma whispered coarsely. "I'm here to rescue her."
The expression on Dandra's face changed. What the Sith had just said changed everything for her. If Kjuty Kal truly dealt in slavery he could not be an ally of the Republic, and Dandra would have to report this to her superiors. Should that be the case, the Republic would need to investigate further.
However, what scared her the most was that, if his sister was indeed a slave, a blood bath would surely follow. She looked at Plasma's orange, furry face, his eyebrows curved with apprehension; she concluded that was precisely what the Sith wished to avoid by asking her – a Jedi – for help.
As if reading her mind, though, Plasma lowered his eyes and confirmed her thoughts.
"I wouldn't want to kill anyone in front of my little sister," he said. "You'll have to contain me; do whatever it takes."
"Don't worry, Darth Plasma," she said, placing her hand over his. "Everything will be fine."
One hour later, Plasma walked down a series of luxurious but dull halls. Plasma, Dandra, and six golden guards entered the throne room at the end of a widening corridor. The room was ample and decorated with statues and other art objects. Three at the center was a circular platform, with three royal chairs. The sight stopped the young Sith's heart.
Darth Plasma once again felt like a small child, his heart pounding against his chest. Dizzy and breathing fast, he instinctively reached for Dandra's hand, holding it tightly; she glanced at him with a smile, murmuring a soundless word.
As they paced forward, the three thrones grew before their eyes. And there upon the tallest chair sat Kjuty Kal, the patriarch, holding a scepter, wearing a luxurious crown and a long, leather and velvet mantle. To his right, the queen, a tall and fair Rattataki woman, marble-skinned, wearing an ornate, voluminous dress and facial tattoos.
And, on the left throne, there upon sat a Cathar child.
Darth Plasma's heart beat so fast and loudly that it was hard for him to hear his own thoughts. A herald announced the titles and accomplishments of the king, his voice muffled as if he spoke underwater. Plasma stared directly at his young sister. He heard only the last sentence:
"…and Your Royal Highness, Princess Puath Puhrr-Kal."
They kept her name, Plasma whispered to himself in a combination of happiness and desperation. He squeezed Dandra's hand harder. The Jedi saw tears forming in the Sith's unnaturally red eyes. She did not have to ask; it was his sister upon the throne; she looked just like her brother.
Puath should be ten or eleven now; she looked happy and healthy, and she was huge! Her fur looked like silk and her smile, so white and perfect, seemed as pure as Plasma remembered. The little girl wore a white, laced dress, dotted with krayt pearls, white gloves, and a little white-gold diadem. She looked like a sculpture, everything harmonizing with her white fur. She, too, looked at him curiously, perhaps amazed at seeing another one of her kind.
The queen nodded uninterestedly; the King delighted himself with the authority he held over two of the most powerful orders in the galaxy, the Sith and the Jedi. Along the outer walls of the throne room, a battalion of elite royal guards stood ready with their blaster rifles and electrostaves. Behind the thrones, there were councilors, advisors and what seemed to be the commander of the royal guard, his golden armor covered by a thick hooded cloak.
"It is quite unusual to have both a Jedi and a Sith together in this room, let alone holding hands," he chuckled provocatively. "Has something happened in the galaxy that I'm not aware of, or perhaps it happened within these very walls overnight?"
"No, your highness," Dandra responded with serenity. "This is simply to show our good intentions towards this mission. There is no animosity between us here on neutral ground."
"I see…" Kal looked disappointed. "It also seems that your friend is quite… interested in my daughter. Seeing as it may be incredibly rare for him to see another member of his dying species, let alone a child, I shall disregard this concerning misconduct. When in the presence of a King, you look him in the eye, Sith."
Dandra nudged Plasma. He coughed awkwardly and forced a smile.
"My apologies," Plasma said dryly. "You shall forgive my lack of decorum, but I would wish to speak with the princess."
"What!" the king chuckled incredulously. "Where are your manners, boy?! I knew I should not have accepted an Imperial emissary in such a short notice… Who do you think you are to think you have such authority to bark orders at me in my own throne room—"
"… please."
Plasma stepped forward. Every single one of the fifty guards clanked their rifles ready and pointed them at his head, marching forward. The king stepped down the throne platform and met with Plasma halfway through. The noble held a puzzled, curious look.
"You look awfully familiar," Kjuty finally said to Plasma. "Have we met before?"
"You met my mother," Plasma stared him in the eyes. "The woman who sold you the girl. I have crossed the galaxy to find my sister; so, I will ask you once again: may I speak with the princess?"
"Your efforts are commendable, young Sith. However, you may not speak with the Princess. She was told her family had unfortunately perished." Kal turned his back to Plasma. "Your audience is with me, not her."
Plasma clenched Dandra's hand, trembling with rage. Sensing the sudden burst of the Dark Side, Dandra grimaced with discomfort. She walked to Plasma's side, but the Sith strode forward, baring his teeth.
"She has a family! Why did you lie to her?!" he roared. "I'll ask you one last time with education: may I speak with my sister?"
The King clicked his tongue and shook his head. Princess Puath's eyes opened wide, and she seemed both scared and confused, looking at her father.
"This is ridiculous," the King chuckled. "How dare the Empire waste the time of the future King of Alderaan? Guards—"
"Your Majesty, please," Dandra clamored in, desperation sparking behind her eyes. "Let Darth Plasma speak with the princess."
Kal noticed the apprehension in her voice, and the hand that shuddered hidden by her robes. He noticed the penetrating pair of blood-red eyes, piercing right through his soul, without blinking. He swallowed in his pride and obliged, gesturing at the guards to stand down.
"Mind your words, Sith…" the king warned him.
"H-hi there…"
Plasma knelt before Puath's throne. The girl cowered in her seat, paired with a small amount of embarrassment and a little bit of fear. Plasma's red eyes were quite uneasing. She glanced around the room for her parents.
Darth Plasma had conquered his own fears, braved the galaxy by himself, reclaimed his destiny and campaigned through hell, but nothing had prepared him for that fearful moment. He did not know what to say, or what to tell her; would she remember him? What if she wanted to forget the past — what if she had already forgotten him? She had grown so much but was still so small, her feet did not reach the floor!
"H-hello, Mister," she muttered shyly "Um… father said you wished to speak with me?"
Hearing the sound of her voice shattered Plasma on the inside. His entire body trembled and shuddered, and he smiled widely with tears rolling down his face. He reached out his hand to her.
"Yes, I do. I've come from very, very far to see you."
"Is it because you look like me?" she asked curiously. "Father said that our species is quite rare nowadays."
"No, it's just… I had heard that there was such a lovely girl in this castle, so I wished to meet her." Plasma pulled back his hand as she had ignored it. "Has someone told you that your dress is amazing?"
"Everyone does, all the time," she said monotonously. "It's kind of annoying," she added under her breath and giggled. Puath had remained the same sweet girl she had always been. Seeing the wrinkles and folds in her fur and nose as she smiled melted Plasma's heart.
"The herald gave you many names and titles, sir," she said. "Lord, Darth, Wrath of the Empire. What is your actual name?"
Plasma attempted to laugh whilst crying, his voice breaking, fighting back tears in vain. He took a deep breath and finally said:
"My name is Plaz-myu Puhrr. Do you remember your brother?"
Puath gasped. She covered her mouth in deep awe. Her little body trembled with emotions she was yet unable to understand and to control. Memories sparked from the depths of her mind, flooding her little head, which quickly summoned a torrent of tears. For a long time, she sat there at the back of her chair, scanning her brother's face with scrutiny, as if trying to recall his physiognomy, but the truth was undeniable to her heart. She leaped off the throne into Plasma's arms.
"Big brother!"
The powerful and the mighty Sith Lord of the Empire dismantled. He shrunk on his knees, wrapping his arms around the little princess with enough force to never let her go again. He wailed, sinking his face on her expensive dress. Emotions overflowed, and he was unable to stop the flow of tears of joy that soaked his orange fur. Those were the purest emotions he had ever felt, and they came out with brutality, as if a dam had broken through his soul.
"I missed you so much, so much, so much, baby Puath…" he squeezed her against his chest. "I never stopped looking for you, not even for a day."
"I—I never forgot you, big brother…" she said between frantic hiccups. She too wailed loudly. "I knew you'd come back for me one day, Plazmi! I just knew it!"
Hearing his childhood nickname made him weep louder, and he laughed rowdily.
"I will never leave you again, kitten," he whispered at her. "Sorry it took me so long."
"Everyone!" Puath lifted her face and screamed abruptly. "This is my big brother Plaz-myu, the best brother in the whole galaxy!"
Dandra could not contain herself anymore and started clapping. Soon, the guards and advisors and servants followed her lead. An aura of true love emanated from the Cathars, enveloping the entire castle, resonating through the Force; it was unlike anything the Jedi had felt before. Even the queen shared a tear with the King.
"My darling," Kjuty knelt by Puath. "Why didn't you say anything about having a brother?"
"Mother said he had died." she stared at the ground. "Are you mad?"
"Mad!" he chuckled nervously. "I could never be mad at you!"
"Does that mean Plaz can stay with us?!" Hope sparkled up in her eyes and she looked back and forth between Kjuty and Plaz-myu.
"Any man who can make my little princess this happy is welcome to stay for as long as he desires," Kjuty said firmly, looking directly into Plasma's eyes. "You are my guest of honor, Darth Plasma."
"Call me Plaz-myu," he corrected the king with a smile. "However, Dandra does have real business with the House of Kal; I do not mean to disturb her work."
"I shall not attend to business for the remainder of the week," Kal said. "However, the Jedi is welcome to stay."
"Will you live with us?!" Puath bounced nonstop in her brother's arms like an overexcited cub who cannot control herself.
"Not yet, my little sister! I will stay a while, but I will find Myat and bring her here, okay? Then we will all live together again."
Little Puath screeched loudly with cheerfulness. She would not let go of Plasma's hand.
"Father, may I be excused?! Please, please, pleeease?!"
Kjuty Kal nodded with a grin; Puath sprinted away, holding her skirt with one hand, and pulling her big brother with the other.