Eighteen

The Citadel, Dromund Kaas

14 ATC

A'tro paced her apartment, an overwhelming sense of foreboding weighing down on her. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

This wasn't the feeling she got when she was in personal danger. This was different. Larger. More nebulous. It made her tense, like the air before a thunderstorm.

Meditating didn't quell her unease, nor did practicing lightsaber forms. She almost felt as if she needed to go out and kill someone, preferably with her bare hands, but that was feral instinct talking. The Sith blood in her veins didn't make her some Massassi savage; she was above those urges.

Talking to Quinn almost always made her feel better, even if she couldn't tell him about Sith matters, but he was on the front lines, and she was alone. She would have been out there fighting alongside him, but she had received direct orders from the Emperor's Hand telling her to stay in the capital.

Be on your guard, Wrath. The Emperor's enemies are close.

The Hand was not one to offer explanations even if A'tro presumed to ask for them. She could not deny, however, that it was frustrating being forced to sit around and wait for orders.

They will strike soon. Make ready and await further instruction.

Well, she was as ready as she could be. She was in peak physical condition, and she could say with pride that she was one of the most skilled lightsaber masters in the entire galaxy. Now that she had embraced her feelings for Quinn, her mind was free of conflict, making her already formidable will even stronger.

At least, that was what she told herself. Deep down, a sliver of doubt still lingered. The longer she waited for the Emperor's word, the more that sliver worked itself into her mind.


Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed as one of Dromund Kaas' mighty storms sent rain beating relentlessly against the glass wall of Darth Nox's elegantly appointed apartment. The lady herself sat curled up on a sofa with a datapad in one hand and a glass of fine Alderaanian wine in the other and wondered if perhaps she had been a little too harsh with Seeker.

The Chiss was a war criminal, no doubt about it, and if Nox had her way, she would answer for the Imperial blood she had shed, Hand of Jadus or not. It was past time the Dark Council started holding their fellow Sith accountable for their actions.

Still, it might have been better to handle the situation with a little more subtlety. Outright threatening someone who had just become her subordinate? Nox had no objection to being feared, but one got far better results through minions who yearned to please rather than minions frightened of one's wrath. A terrified servant was a motivated servant, but rarely an effective one.

Well, it was too late now. Seeker hadn't seemed particularly bothered by the threat, anyway.

She took a sip of her wine. A lovely vintage, aged ten years, with a rich red hue several shades darker than human blood. Exquisite.

"To Imperial Intelligence," she said aloud, raising her glass to the empty room, then took another sip before turning her attention to her datapad.

The Sith who were part of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge gave regular reports on interesting relics and where they might be found. Nox skimmed through, looking for anything that seemed useful. Most of the information was rubbish, based entirely on rumor and apocrypha. Sith were motivated to please her, but they had nothing on the Reclamation Service when it came to proper research.

Perhaps she should have Talos give a workshop. She chuckled to herself at the thought of the enthusiastic archaeologist lecturing a room full of flighty Sith academics.

The next report was pure folklore, the one after that was a rumor deliberately planted by the Empire, then something called the Chaos Catalyst…that name was absurd enough that it might actually be real. She'd have to look into that one.

Another report described a series of phenomena experienced by a survey team out in the deep jungle that strongly suggested the presence of a Force ghost. Nox saved that one for future reference. More power was always nice.

She continued looking through the reports, but found herself unable to focus. Setting the datapad aside with a small sigh, she turned her glass between her hands, watching the dark wine swirl within.

It wasn't that visiting Intelligence HQ had rattled her—nothing rattled her. But it had come closer to doing so than most things. Seeker was clearly very canny, not the brainwashed lackey Nox had expected given her connection to Jadus. She might just be clever enough to look in the secret places where certain truths lay buried.

That would not do.

She was considering her options when the security system chimed to indicate someone was requesting access to her chambers. After carefully placing her glass of wine on a table off to one side—if it was an assassin, she wouldn't want it to spill while she annihilated them—she strolled over to the security monitors and checked the footage of the hallway outside.

To her surprised, Darth A'tro was standing outside her door, holding a small box in one hand and frowning. Disguising oneself as the Emperor's Wrath seemed a little too stupid even by the standards of the assassins Ravage tended to send at her, so Nox reasoned this was probably legitimate and let her in.

"My dear Wrath!" she exclaimed, trotting into the antechamber to meet A'tro as she stepped inside. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She raised a suggestive eyebrow. "It's a little late for a casual visit."

A'tro rolled her eyes. "You insist I'm not your type, and then you keep flirting with me."

"I am flirting with you?" Nox put a hand to her mouth in mock surprise. "You're the one coming to my chambers at nearly midnight. And you've brought me a present, too."

"I wha—" A'tro looked at the box in her hand as if suddenly realizing it was there. "Oh. This was sitting outside your door when I got here."

"And you picked it up? It could have been a bomb!"

"I didn't sense any danger." A'tro held out the box. "Here."

Nox gingerly took the box and opened it. It was empty save for a small slip of flimsiplast. "How peculiar. People usually use the HoloNet to send me declarations of their undying love." She picked up the flimsi and examined it.

A'tro snickered. "Does that happen often?"

"Declarations of love? Not so much. Offers to present me with improbable numbers of Republic corpses if I'd just show them what's under the dress? All the time."

The flimsi was inscribed with a single word, Tatooine, followed by a set of coordinates. The meeting location the mysterious caller had mentioned, no doubt.

"That seems rather disrespectful, given your rank," A'tro said.

Nox looked up to see her frowning. She smirked in response. "Well, if my beauty and charm drive people so mad with desire that they forget propriety, I find that rather amusing."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised that's your take on it." A'tro nodded at the flimsi in Nox's hand. "So, what is it?"

"Something else entirely." Nox committed the coordinates to memory, then crumpled up the flimsi, tossed it into the air, and incinerated it with a small bolt of lightning.

A'tro fanned away a few ashes that floated in her direction. "Let me guess: secret business you won't talk about."

Nox was about to reply in the affirmative, then hesitated. The first message had said not to come alone… "I'll make an exception this time," she said. "Shall we go sit down? It's so terribly awkward standing here."

A'tro followed her into her sitting room, taking a seat on a chair near the sofa. Nox retrieved her glass of wine and offered one to her visitor, who predictably but politely refused. She settled herself back on the sofa and described her conversation with the unknown caller.

"This is a trap," A'tro said as soon as Nox finished talking.

"I'm inclined to agree."

"It's strange that they would know about Vowrawn's death so soon after it happened. Most of the Empire still doesn't know."

Nox nodded. "That's why I think this might actually be real."

"You really think this person actually wants to give you vital information? More likely they're the one who killed Vowrawn, and are trying to lure you out to kill you as well."

Nox was silent for several moments, tapping her fingers against her glass. "That's possible," she agreed. "It's a chance I'm willing to take, however."

A'tro stared at her, golden eyes wide and incredulous. "You aren't seriously going to—have you gone mad?"

Nox smiled into her wine. "I prefer the term 'differently rational.'"

"Don't get cute," A'tro snapped. "Do you have any idea how difficult it would be to replace you on the Council?"

"Perhaps you could relay that information to Ravage. He keeps trying to assassinate me."

"Don't try to change the subject. This so-called 'meeting' is clearly a trap. I cannot believe you're going to just walk right into it."

"What are you going to do, try to stop me?"

"You know I could if I wanted to."

"Well, if you're not going to, then clearly you don't want to." Nox paused. "Why did you come over here in the first place?"

"You're trying to change the subject again."

"Yes, but I'm curious. And we've pretty much exhausted our previous topic anyway."

"I had a few questions about Intelligence, but they can wait until I've talked you out of this foolishness."

Nox frowned. "You're not going to talk me out of it. May as well ask your questions."

A'tro sighed, defeated. "Fine. I recall you mentioning a while ago that you wanted to incorporate more Sith into Sith Intelligence, train apprentices as operatives. Are you still planning on doing that?"

"Absolutely." Nox smiled. "Sith power and Intelligence training…a deadly combination."

"If that's the case, I believe I may have a candidate for you."

Nox raised an eyebrow. "Surely you're not thinking of turning the Willsaam girl into your own personal agent."

"Jaesa doesn't have the disposition for that sort of thing," A'tro said dismissively. "No, the Sith in question is currently apprenticed to an old friend of mine."

Nox took a long sip from her glass. "I'm listening."


After A'tro left, Nox turned off the lights and sat in the darkness, thinking. Outside, the storm continued, occasionally illuminating the room with arcs of lightning.

Despite A'tro's misgivings, Nox was convinced that the meeting invitation was not a trap. Whether it was instinct, the Force, or some combination of both, she felt certain that she needed to pursue this. Even if it was a trap after all, she was powerful enough to survive almost anything, and it would be worth a little trouble if she was able to learn something from it.

The problem was the caveat the anonymous caller had presented: you cannot come alone. Nox suspected that if she were to appear on her own, the person would not even show. She had wanted to bring A'tro, as the two of them had a sort of alliance going, but that was apparently not an option.

No one will believe you if you're the only one who knows the truth.

Whatever this person wanted to tell her, it was something they thought she would need to share. It was also something that was apparently so unlikely they thought she needed someone else to verify it, someone who wouldn't have a reason to lie. That meant any of her crew were out of the question, as was anyone else who served her directly. For a moment, she contemplated asking Seeker, but she didn't want to have anything more to do with her than she had to. Besides, no one would ever believe the word of a spymaster.

Given that she had no idea what the information was, she couldn't take the chance that it would be safe to keep it secret. If the Empire truly was at risk…

An idea occurred to her then, so ludicrous that she laughed aloud. But if her allies were out of the question, then the next logical step was to approach someone who wasn't an ally. Someone who she could not possibly have coerced into lying on her behalf.

There was no way she would convince him to go along with it. Or was there?

Nox liked challenges.