Chapter 104
"So, 80 000 you say? It will take a bit of time to process that amount, not to mention arrange suitable transport all the way to Orvax. When does Sovereign Iballa expect delivery?"
"The factories are sitting idle, with no one working them. Therefore as soon as possible," Anakin said, idly browsing through a datapad as he and Scintel sat around a small table which had a light lunch on it.
Obi-Wan and Chewie had left to personally inspect the nearby Royal slave market, which was the largest and housed samples that would help further inform our purchase. That left myself and R2 to stay with Anakin. The droid was acting as a data secretary, whilst I had been given another purpose in the meantime.
"That will bump up the price," Scintel warned, her golden eyes drinking in Anakin's uncovered face. She clearly had the hots for him and wasn't afraid of using her body language to openly indicate that, though royal decorum meant she couldn't outright say it.
"Understandable, highness," he nodded. "It would be cheaper to acquire two medium freighters, divide the slaves between them for the journey."
"Prudent, especially in these troubled times. A single bulk freighter with so many slaves would be a prime target for every pirate and minor slaver in the galactic east. Medium freighters aren't usually used for passenger transport," she nodded her approval of the idea. "The route you'd have to take for an efficient journey will take you through hutt space, the bribes for them will be substantial, especially in light of their treaty with the Republic."
"Sovereign Iballa has made provision for it," Anakin assured.
Scintel sat back in her chair, daintily ate from her plate, her eyes now turning to drink in my own moving form.
The chair I was using creaked slightly under my weight as I went into a handstand on the backrest, then carefully began moving my legs into a full split.
I hopped down, landing with my hands on the flat butt rest, before closing my legs, twisting into a somersault. My mind purposefully not thinking about what gravity was doing to my body and minimal attire. Scintel's emotions were definitely appreciating it as I landed on my feet in front of the chair, immediately going into the splits on the floor with a breathtaking economy of motion.
My hands came down and supported me as I flowed into another handstand, which then flowed into depositing my butt on the seat. My right leg flared immediately, perfectly straight, starting to my left and hinging like the arm of a clock to my right, until I was again seated in the splits, my hands now sensually caressing my thighs. My breathing was deep and hard, for the effect it had on my bosom and a mask of pleasure was on my face.
It wasn't entirely faked, since I was also somewhat getting turned on in delivering this performance, as Anakin was also staring at me with appreciative eyes.
Exotic dancing was not something I really relished in pulling out of my bag of tricks. Superior internal control of my own body with the Force, flexibility, strength and general stamina was coming in quite handy now. I actually had to hold myself back a bit, since adding any supernatural tricks to the routine via the Force would give away the game here. It would've also been nice to have some music, so I settled for just imagining a tune to pace the dance.
Scintel shook herself, tearing her eyes away, "Right, have you found any that would be to your preference, Alad?"
Anakin coughed and focused on her, "Yes, these should be sufficient." He handed over the datapad.
"You want all our stock of togruta, five thousand twi'lek and 23 000 humans. Why so many togruta?"
"Their sense of hearing, especially when properly trained, is exactly the kind of workers that the factory requires. Sure, the bith have better, but their exotic diet requirements make them difficult to maintain long term."
"True and our stock of them is minimal at best," Scintel acknowledged, putting down the datapad and taking a lazy sip of something alcoholic from her long fluted glass. Her eyes naturally turned to me as I folded myself in half backward, hands to the floor, before slowly picking my right leg up, then the left, into a brief handstand, bringing my feet around to land on the floor and straighten up, my hands caressing my sides in the process. "Let's talk about price," she said absently. "What's your offer?"
"Eight thousand per slave," Anakin began, his face a mask of pleasure and appreciation whilst staring at me, even as he inwardly felt rather conflicted with himself.
"Thirty," she retorted.
"Ten thousand."
"Thirty," she smirked.
"You're asking for 2,4 billion credits, don't be ridiculous."
"I can do the math, Alad," she purred, her hand snaking across the table to caress Anakin's hand resting on the table. When she saw him amenable to her approach, she amended her price, "Twenty five."
"Twelve," he continued the process, returning her caress with one of his own.
"Twenty."
"Fifteen."
"Eighteen, if you include the delightful creature dancing before us."
He shook his head, "She's the personal property of Sovereign Iballa. He'd have my head on a pike if I sold her to you. Seventeen and you can borrow her for the duration of our stay on Zygerria. She's to remain unharmed in any fashion."
Scintel looked at him for a moment before nodding, "Agreed, 1,36 billion credits for 52 000 togruta, 5000 twi'lek and 23 000 humans. We'll begin acquiring the necessary ships." She picked up the datapad again, rapidly tapping on it and thumped her thumb on it with a flourish. "How will you be paying?"
"Half in advance with programmable IGBC credit chits, the remainder when the slaves are on board the ships and jump to hyperspace."
"Acceptable," she nodded.
"Atre," Anakin prompted me with my cover name.
I paused in my sensual chair dance, stopping just as I was halfway through a twirl on my left leg, whilst my right leg had been pointed up to the ceiling in a standing split.
My leg came down and I walked closer to the table, head bowed and not looking up, "Yes, master?"
"You heard, consider yourself the property of Queen Scintel until we leave this planet."
"Understood," I said softly. "Mistress, what do you wish of me?"
"Impressive," Scintel smiled with appreciation. "Just like that. I am a very good judge of people and everything is telling me she fully means that. I'm almost tempted to send some of my trainers to Iballa to learn from him. Naturally, he won't even entertain the notion of spilling his own secrets. Come to my side, Atre."
I obeyed and came to a stop at her left side.
Her hand gently landed my left buttock and she began languidly caressing there, before trailing up my back and coming down again.
"Take you for instance," she leaned forward resting her chin on her fist, arm propped up on the table, gazing at Anakin. "You were a slave, weren't you?"
He folded his arms and gave her a mild glare, "I was. What of it, your highness?"
"Just an observation, Alad. Now you're in the slave business yourself. I imagine that there is a fascinating story there. Most former slaves will do everything they can to avoid the business, will even fight against it or go after their former owners. Yet here you are, casually negotiating for the lives of so many."
Scintel flicked her fingers twice, summoning another slave.
"The story is long, majesty. I was used as a mechanic from a very young age, then in fighting pits and arenas when I grew older. As my strength grew I fought my way to freedom with my own prowess in battle. My old master lost me in a bet and my new owner was so impressed he awarded me my freedom. However, even with freedom, I knew only the life of fighting, so I became a mercenary and eventually my path led me to employment with the House of Iballa."
A twi'lek approached carrying a tray of wine filled glasses. She was a different server than the one who had brought the food, with a much lighter yellow tone of skin and a rich purple headdress.
"It seems you truly understand the way of the galaxy then," Scintel smiled in pleasure, a finger now playing with the rear strap of my thong panty. "Slavery is the natural order of things. The weak deserve nothing more than to kneel before the strong, bound to service. You were weak and made yourself strong enough to rise up."
"Interesting, so theoretically, if a slave here on Zygerria was to lead an uprising that cast you all down, would you accept that?" Anakin asked with honest curiosity.
"If that ever happened, Alad, then we'd deserve it for becoming so weak," Scintel picked up a new glass of wine and deposited the old one on the tray.
The Force shifted and screamed in warning.
My montrals pinpointed and heard the slightest bump of metal against metal, then that of a blade and hand cutting through the air.
My right hand struck, grabbing the wrist of the twi'lek slave, just as she had been about to stab Scintel in the back of the neck.
Thumb pressing on the inside of the slave's wrist, she lost all muscular control in her hand and the very sharp kitchen knife fell to the floor.
"No!" she gasped in despair at her failure.
A blaster shot rammed into the slave's back in the next moment.
I felt her death as I let her smoking body go to collapse in a heap on the floor behind Scintel's chair.
The queen sighed, making a quick hand signal, "Such a waste." The door to the throne room opened and two guards entered, who quickly picked up the would-be assassin's body and carried her out. "So you are trained to defend your master as well. Now I am officially jealous." Her gaze on me was smoldering and her caresses intensified.
She casually turned to Anakin as if an attempted assassination was just a Tuesday for her. "You see Alad, we have unfortunately lost a lot of knowledge over the centuries. After the Jedi brought the Zygerrian Empire to its knees, we fell into civil strife and infighting. The old ways were hoarded and burned in fire, technology fought over and destroyed as one side wanted to deny it to the other. In the end, no one gained it and it was lost to time. It is only the last century that we have begun to pick up the pieces and rebuild. This city was practically a ruin just eighty years ago and now look at it." She grandly gestured to the window and looked at the view with satisfaction and pride.
"It certainly is impressive, highness," Anakin admitted.
"We are trying to regain the old ways, but our slave processing techniques are rudimentary and I'm sure the old Slavemasters are shuddering in their tombs at our bumbling attempts," she said with bitterness. "We will persevere and in time we will regain all that we have lost."
"Hence why you joined the CIS."
"Precisely, they don't care what you do in your own borders. You pay your pittance of tax and the confederation tithe, that's it. No meddling core world corporations, no laws written by fat politicians sitting in their own auridium towers on Coruscant that outlaw your cultural practices, no taxes that beggar the profits of your own companies," her right fist slammed down on the table, "and especially no meddling moralistic Jedi playing enforcers for the corrupt Galactic Senate!"
She took a deep breath to calm herself, "Sorry, Alad. I'm normally more composed than this."
"You just came within moments of death, highness. I would be more surprised if you didn't have some sort of extreme reaction."
"So I'm sure you'll understand if I end our meeting here, an afternoon nap will be just the thing I need now."
Anakin stood from his chair and bowed, "Of course, majesty."
Scintel made another hand signal and a guard entered immediately. "Escort Mr. Rutirr to one of the best suites in the guest wing of the palace. I will also arrange for your colleague to gain access as well."
The guard bowed, "At once, your highness."
"Come along, R2," Anakin beckoned and soon enough I was left 'alone' in the room with Scintel.
Her hand finally left my backside and she stood making another unique signal with her hand.
"Just a final security measure. Stay still, Atre."
"Yes, mistress."
Another guard approached and now I was subject to an examination by a hand scanner that he slowly moved from head to toe.
"She's clean," he confirmed after staring at the readout.
"Really? Not even a slave implant?"
The guard nodded, "None."
Scintel gave me a fascinated look. "Follow me, Atre."
"Yes, mistress."
The queen led the way out of a hidden side door set into the wall of the throne room. Here was a narrow corridor that could only fit one person, with minimal overhead lighting. I sensed power conduits running through the solid walls and laser emitter tips stippled randomly around, ready to turn anyone trying to run through here into crispy chunks.
Half a dozen meters later another door opened and beyond was a stupendously luxurious living area. Natural light was streaming in from balconies and windows that I could tell had energy shielding. Couches that might as well have been solidified white clouds faced each other around a carpet that continued the themes from the palace lobby. Other rooms smoothly flowed from this living area in an open plan design. A small kitchen that was untouched but nevertheless functional with all manner of appliances.
This was definitely her private apartment, but I could sense a number of visual security sensors in the upper corners of the rooms. She was still being watched even in this space, even if there were no hidden snipers in the walls here.
She led the way through this luxury and paused at a large wooden double door. She gave me one last assessing look before pushing on them.
Beyond was as expected a bedroom with a giant circular bed dominating it. It stood at hip height and was covered with dozens of pillows and elegantly patterned duvets.
"Come in, Atre," she instructed when I paused slightly in the threshold.
With bowed head I obeyed, even as I noted that crucially we had finally entered a surveillance dead-zone. It seemed Scintel had at the very least privacy for her bedroom and another room leading off from it, which was a walk-in closet. It was a struggle to maintain my outward mask as I sensed…
"Atre, how much do you know about Alad Rutirr?" Scintel asked as she undid a few clasps and pulled down on a zip, letting her dress pool around her feet, before stepping out of it. Leaving her only in a very brief, purple two piece underwear set.
"He is a mercenary fixer of the House of Iballa, mistress."
"Fixer?" she asked, as she pulled me by the hand closer to the bed.
"Yes, mistress. Solves any problems the sovereign might have," I answered as she climbed onto the bed on her knees, forcing me to follow suit.
"Oh, and is he attached to anyone?" Scintel asked, lying down and with a pat next to her I laid down as well. The next thing I knew I was being used as a cuddle toy as she spooned me, snaking her arms around my waist.
"Not that I'm aware of, mistress. He could be, though, I don't know such personal information about him."
"Hmmm," she mumbled in comfort, and I sensed her already in the first stages of dozing off.
"Mistress, may I ask a question?"
"Yes, Atre."
"You've seen my physical abilities, strength and reflexes. You've only borrowed me at considerable expense. We've barely known each other for less than a day. I could be another assassin."
"Are you another assassin?"
"Of course not, mistress, but that is what an assassin would say only to strike when you fall asleep."
Scintel actually giggled, "You're cute, Atre. Already so worried about your mistress. If for one second you thought of killing me you would be dead." She held out her left palm in front of my face. "Look at my nails."
It was interesting that zygerrians didn't have a feline nail structure, but tended toward humanoid nails instead.
In the light, I spotted a tiny metallic cylinder, attached under each protruding nail. Clearly poison of some kind, that could be administered into me in an instant if she wanted. "Hidden poison injectors, mistress?"
"Yes, so you are utterly at my mercy at the moment. As I said, I'm a good judge of sentients, though as you saw I'm not perfect. The poison nails are just one tool I have on me. I have others, understand Atre?"
"Understood, mistress."
"Now relax and remain quiet, I need some sleep."
I wearily eyed those dangerous digits and obeyed.
A little over two hours passed and the walk-in closet door opened to reveal HK-47 striding outward in nearly absolute silence.
Scintel was already asleep but I used the Force to ensure it remained that way until I wanted otherwise.
The droid walked around the bed to regard me. "Question: Are you comfortable, master?"
"Took you long enough," I groused in annoyance, purposefully not answering his sarcastic question as I carefully broke the Queen of Zygerria's grip on me. Keeping her hands away from my skin as much as possible. "Guess I shouldn't have been surprised to find you in what should be the most secure spot on the planet."
"Smug statement: Of course not, master. It's me, after all. The most perfect tool of irritant meatbag removal in the galaxy! Their defenses were not challenging to penetrate."
"So you've got the run of the palace then?" I asked hopefully, as I got up from the bed.
"Answer: Within reason, master."
"Good, I want you to keep an eye on them as they procure the ships and slaves we bought. Their computer systems and procedures, make as thorough a map as possible of their operations. Find the key players, the cogs in the machine so to speak. So far you've been hitting low level random stuff, keeping them guessing. Now I want to give the word and then we plunge them into a societal collapse."
"Awed statement: Master, if I was a meatbag then I'd-"
"Do not finish that sentence," I interrupted the bloody droid with a glare.
"Reluctant obedience: Yes, master. Warning: Master, it will take more than just the removal of the hairy female meatbag on the bed and other key governmental meatbags. Suggestion: The sabotage of the power grid, communication system and the transport infrastructure will be required as well."
"No calling for help from the CIS," I nodded. "What are the chances the other cities on the planet can help?"
"Answer: This is a monarchical, top-down society, master. Held together only because the current queen and the government are descendants of those who won the civil war. If they were to suddenly be out of the picture, my calculations suggest Zygerria will fracture into a planet of feuding city-states within the decade."
I folded my arms as I considered that. "Better that than a resurgent Zygerrian Slave Empire, I suppose. Hopefully a better society can emerge from a cauldron of feudal states in the future, though my pessimistic side says we're only kicking this can down the road."
"Statement: In my experience, it is rare indeed, that a meatbag society becoming ascendant in such a planetary situation will be a 'good' civilization. It is more likely they will become militarily belligerent and xenophobic."
"HK, stop trying to depress me."
"Objection: Master, I would never dream of doing such a thing."
I rolled my eyes, "Whatever, you have your orders. Oh yes, I'll need you to be ready to do a bit of thievery when we leave this world."
"Objection: Master, I'm an assassin droid, not a thief. A remover of organic irritants from the face of this galaxy."
"In all your thousands of years, you've never stolen anything?" I asked skeptically with a frown.
"Answer: Of course not, master. It wounds my circuits so that you would think as such of me. "
I massaged my forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. He clearly had a different notion of the concept, given what I knew of his past and he was just doing his usual trolling, "Just… do it, HK. If it makes you feel better, the thievery will surely contribute to the chaos we leave in our wake."
"Reluctant agreement: Very well, master."
"Now get out of here, I have to go back to being a sleeping pillow… ah! Not a word, HK. Go."
"Affirmation: Yes, master."
The next day, Queen Miraj Scintel put me in the role of what the Naboo would call a handmaiden, with a few extra bits tacked on. I was essentially replacing the twi'lek who had tried to kill her, a slave who had been called Farsu.
It mostly involved a lot of standing around next to her as she held court, being her armcandy and getting leered at by every zygerrian who came to the throne room to petition for some or other issue that they had. Mostly it was her government ministers who were just discussing the day-to-day affairs and decisions of the state that needed making.
It was all frightfully boring but I listened anyway.
Occasionally I was dispatched to the royal kitchens to bring up food and drinks that had passed screening and taste testing.
Scintel, applying prudent paranoia that I actually somewhat admired, had me taste testing the food I brought in front of her. Thankfully, it was mostly local meats, proteins and drinks that wouldn't upset a togruta stomach - zygerrians weren't vegetarians at all.
It was as I was bringing my third tray of drinks to the throne room in the afternoon that Anakin pinged me across the Bond.
'Yes, Skyguy?'
'Snips, are you all right?'
'Just swell, Skyguy.' I thought sarcastically.
'Really? You didn't have to… uh… you weren't forced…' he trailed off uncomfortably.
'No, Skyguy, yes, she had me keeping her company in bed, but I was just a warm body pillow essentially. She's very clingy.'
His relief was palpable, 'Good, good. I've seen… Let's just say that side of slavery is something that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Anyway, I do bring good news. We found Governor Roshti.'
'In the slave pens?'
'Yes, Obi-Wan spotted him during his tour of the royal market yesterday. He's in relatively good health, but traumatized and withdrawn. Not surprising given they've practically just started his conditioning.'
'Well, he should be eventually included in our purchase, so there's no reason to potentially stir up trouble-'
I was just a few corridors away from the throne room, when my localized prescience aligned into a probability line that spelled trouble. I pushed along it as the kaleidoscope of events coalesced and I could only think one word.
'Frak.'
'Snips?'
'One moment, master.'
I picked up one of the glass mugs on the tray, testing the weight as I carefully interpreted not just the Force around me, but the local soundscape reaching my montrals.
Sure enough, the footsteps of someone following me and trying to be very quiet about it pinged in my echolocation. My Force probe told me it was a zygerrian and he was holding a blaster in his right hand. He was staying out of any immediate line of sight, pausing his approach at the intersection of two corridors I had just walked through.
His emotions were a curious mix; anger, determination and slight hint of resignation.
He waited until I was further down the corridor and stepped forward, his blaster pistol coming up, aiming for the back of my head.
Only to receive a face full of hardened glass that shattered his nose, then the beer came spilling out with the momentum of my throw and blinded him.
"Ahhhh!" he screamed in pain and fright, falling back onto his butt. His left hand was reflexively clutching at his nose now, but his desperation only increased. He impressively fought through fear, astonishment and surprise, trying his best to aim at where he thought I was and pulled the trigger.
Naturally, he completely missed and I was already sprinting at my top speed towards him, suppressing my reflexive use of the Force.
The blaster shot thundered through the corridor and I dodged right, then left as he just started spraying shots at me.
My left hand carrying the tray, slapped the blaster aside, whilst my right, clutching another mug, powered into his stomach and my would-be assassin practically folded in half around it. His mouth was wide open and the air from his lungs forcefully escaped in a hiss.
I removed my right hand and powered the tray down onto the back of his head, subtly using a Force Sleep to knock him out.
'Ahsoka! What's happening?!'
Now a general alarm was ringing throughout the palace corridor, making an awful racket that my montrals didn't appreciate at all.
I immediately dropped the tray and mug on the ground, standing to the side with a bowed head.
'Just stopped a zygerrian assassin from shooting me in the back.'
I felt him pushing his perceptions through the Bond and taking a look for himself.
'Why would he do this?'
'That is a very good question, Skyguy,' I thought as two teams of palace guards appeared on either side of the corridor. 'It will be up to Scintel to find that out.'
The queen scowled and sneered, her golden eyes blazing in anger as she watched the security holo from her throne.
I stood at the bottom step of her throne, head bowed, hands folded in front of me exactly as I should.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the holo version of myself throw the glass mug, then sprint and completely demolish my assassin for the third time.
The room was almost bursting with ministers, officials and guards. It was also interesting to see that her government was actually a sixty/forty mix of male and female. I had figured that zygerrian society would be mostly skewed towards males being in positions of power, but that seemed to not be the case.
Scintel gestured to a black furred zygerrian, who immediately stepped forward. "Minister Koltal, your report," she demanded.
"Yes, majesty. As you can see, we managed to recover the surveillance holo from the secondary backup after the primary was… lost. It would seem the secrecy with which I installed that system was most prudent." Koltal's blue eyes held a base cunning and was radiating satisfaction.
"You mean sabotaged," Scintel sneered.
"Majesty, we are still investigating. It would not be wise to move forward on assumption. It may just have been a general fault in the system."
"A fault?" she said in astonishment. "How can a fault happen at the perfect moment when an assassin tries to kill one of my slaves?!"
"Again, majesty. I'm investigating this personally, in the interest of speed. The Security Ministry will get to the truth of the matter."
"What about the assassin?! Who was he?"
"Dos Goora, an aide working in the Agricultural Ministry."
I could practically feel the astonishment rise in the room. All the ministers turned their heads as one to face a female zygerrian in elegant green robes with red fur. The panic and fear in her eyes was palpable.
"Minister Galdo, step forward," Scintel ordered in a forbidding tone.
The apparent minister of agriculture swallowed nervously and obeyed, bowing, "Yes, majesty."
"Can you explain why a member of your staff would so brazenly attack one of my slaves?"
"No, your majesty. I knew him only in a professional capacity. He was capable, always did his job, never stood out in any strange or significant fashion."
"Yet somehow, he decided today that it was a good idea to carry an illegal, unregistered blaster in the palace and try to murder a royal slave. Minister Koltal, has the prisoner said anything in interrogation yet?"
"No, your highness. We have not had long to work on him, you understand. He has remained silent so far."
"Step up your efforts," the queen commanded. "What of the earlier incident?"
"We are still investigating the deceased royal slave's quarters, majesty. When I have something to report, you will be the first to know."
She nodded and addressed the whole room, "Everyone but the inner circle is to leave."
The doors to the throne room opened and most of the zygerrian government left with as much dignity as they could, but I could feel they dearly wished to run as fast as their legs could carry them. When the doors closed again, only two personal bodyguards and three other zygerrian ministers were left; Koltal, one brown furred female and a gray male.
Scintel slammed her fist on the armrest of her throne, "BY THE ANCESTORS! WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THIS CITY?!" Her temper practically exploded in the room. "Accident after accident! Delays and mistakes! It's as if at some point over the past month, everyone's brains have been replaced with taffle! Then a royal slave tries to assassinate me in the middle of a meeting with clients! Then an aide tries to kill the new royal slave that saved my life!"
I couldn't help but be impressed at the lungs Scintel had. Her volume was slightly painful in my montrals, but I easily bore it.
What was more interesting to me was the first assassination attempt on her. I had assumed it was just an opportunistic action by the royal slave, but if that was not the case, if it was planned… That could either mean someone had subverted her or she was the equivalent of a deep cover operative that had been recruited from the start and I had the fortune to be at the exact time and place needed to intervene and save Scintel.
I cast my mind back in memory to my sense of Farsu in the Force. The degree of desperation in her emotions when she failed. She knew even if she succeeded that she would be dead. It was a suicide mission either way. Her sacrifice now meant nothing, it had achieved nothing, except putting fear in Scintel and increasing her paranoia.
What about the use of a simple kitchen knife to do the deed? Any high level assassination conspiracy would find a way to smuggle a more effective weapon to Farsu. It felt sloppy, even amateurish, then again, it could be that the security around Scintel was tight enough that using an improvised weapon was the only choice.
"Majesty, are you sure you wish to have this discussion now?" The female minister glanced pointedly at me.
"Ralenn, I tolerate a lot from you because we've been friends since childhood, but please don't insult me," Scintel scowled. "If I was not satisfied with Atre, I would've dismissed her. If she was part of this plot, she would've been dead already. The only reason I'm alive now is because of her. Now, you're my Intelligence Minister, be useful please."
"Yes, majesty," Ralenn bowed her head. "I have nothing to add to the immediate crisis, but I can tell you that there is definitely a mind at work behind the problems we've been experiencing in the city."
"Someone is doing this?"
"Yes, majesty. It is nothing I can definitively prove as yet, but the timing of this assassation attempt is just too good. If we also look back on the accidents with the assumption that they were distractions and meant to tie up resources, then everything falls in place."
"Careful Ralenn," Koltal warned with a raised finger. "You could be falling into a trap of thinking exactly as our true opponent intends."
"By the time we have your precious 'evidence', the enemy will have already succeeded!"
These two ministers continued their circular argument for quite a while and achieved no new revelation or insight, just continuing a bickering feud that seemed quite old. The so far silent gray furred minister just kept his arms folded and would occasionally roll his eyes and gaze at the ceiling as if he was praying to a deity to spare him.
"Enough, both of you," Scintel made a furious swiping gesture of finality to shut both ministers up. "Minister Gadrad, you've been rather quiet. Don't you have anything to add?"
He was the oldest zygerrian in the room and his auburn uniform hung loosely on his skinny frame. "I was just waiting for these two to finish with their foolishness, majesty."
Ralenn scowled at the elder with annoyance. "It's not foolishness, old one, it makes perfect sense!"
"For so long, our only enemy has been the slaves we keep under our boots," Gadrad retorted in an almost serene fashion. "Yet now we've thrown in our lot with the CIS and we are thrust into a war on a scale not seen since the Ruusan Reformation. We think we are safe behind the armor of the CIS fleet on the front lines. We are far from the Core and the old enemy. We think they can't reach us here."
"From your tone, you clearly disagree."
"It has been centuries since they fought us and brought us to our knees. Everything we've heard tells us they've stagnated in peace, but now they are in the second year of a war like no other. They stand at the head of an army of clones and starships. Yes, the CIS is fighting them and on occasion killing them, but they are again learning the lessons of old in the cauldron of war."
Koltal scoffed, "The Jedi don't have a subtle bone in their body. They fight in the open with those lightsabers of theirs. Assassinations and plots are not in their nature. Your majesty, ignore this doddering old fool."
Gadrad merely smiled at the insult, taking it in his stride.
"On the latter point, I have to agree," Scintel said eventually. "I recall from history, one of the central tenets of the Jedi was to only take life as a last resort."
"Precisely," Koltal smirked in triumph at his colleague.
"However, his point that the Jedi are now in a war has merit. The lessons from our own civil wars are clear, that rules and morality of old tend to fall out of mind when you are preoccupied with the survival of your side. Hurry with that interrogation, Koltal. We need answers. I don't care how you get it."
"Yes, your highness."
"Dismissed."
Night fell and I found myself next to another version of Scintel's throne, inside what was the Royal Box that overlooked a large arena slightly larger than a football field. There were no gentle sloping stands around it, but instead a cruel, absolutely sheer wall, meant to offer no chance for escape or comfort to whoever found themselves on the harsh stone floor of the arena.
A further nine glassed levels looked down on the space, and it was packed with spectators of every creed of zygerrian society, including aliens and other customers. The din of the crowds was allowed to blast throughout the structure as they eagerly awaited the beginning of the show.
Naturally, Scintel wouldn't be here without a plus one, and I didn't count.
"What are we going to see, majesty?" Anakin asked with a polite eagerness. He was seated in a small chair next to her throne and she was being very forward about her raw interest in him. Her right hand idly caressing his left shoulder and her fingers ever so often combing through his long hair with affection.
"It is both auction and entertainment, Alad," Scintel smiled, practically purring her words.
Inwardly, he was less than enthused about this attention, especially because he now also knew what deadly weapons were hidden under those nails.
A door opened up in the arena wall and a zygerrian ceremony conductor walked out to rapturous roars and eager applause. He carried a long staff in one hand and an electro whip hilt hooked on his belt.
Synchronized spotlights followed his movements, whilst the general lighting of the arena dimmed somewhat.
The conductor shouted, his voice carried by the microphone embedded in his staff and carried over a PA system that echoed through the arena, "Your highness! Zygerrians! Guests from a thousand worlds! Welcome to the Grand Arena of Grezrana!"
The crowd roared in excitement and appreciation.
"This auction begins first with a demonstration, slaves of high quality fighting each other. I give you, devaronians!"
The large arena gate rose upward and a tall hulking, pink skinned devaronian, walked out. He only wore boots, tight black shorts and carried a long wooden staff. He roared in defiance to the crowd, brandishing the staff as a weapon.
Following him was another devaronian, this one more red skinned and he carried two small bo staffs in either hand. He also shouted and showed off towards the roaring crowd, thumping his muscled chest and expertly twirling his weapons.
The two slaves squared off against each other in the middle of the arena, doing flashy twirls and showing off in general, even trying to intimidate.
I could see both were actually quite skilled in the fighting craft by the way they moved. They could've been efficient in their movements, but they also had to impress.
The conductor stepped away far enough so he would be well out of range, should both slaves decide he would be a better target. "Ready? Begin!"
The crowd roared as battle was joined.
The two devaronians pitted their strength and weapons against each other with rapid ferocity, the rapid clashes of wood against wood, fist against flesh, sounds which was also being broadcast over the PA system.
A staff naturally had less speed and flexibility, but it hit harder than the two small bo staffs.
The two fighters also had good technique, but I had seen and experienced far better.
Mr. Pink accepted the rapid hits from his opponent, using the staff to deflect one and his arm the other, whilst stepping inside Mr. Red's guard.
A knee to the stomach doubled his opponent over and a rapid twist of the same leg, caused his ankle to smash into Mr. Red's face.
Mr. Red fell back, nearly losing his weapons in the process and shaking his head to clear out the cobwebs.
Pink should have followed up immediately, but he paused and allowed his opponent to recover.
"They're pretty good," Anakin observed as the battle restarted.
"Both have been trained since childhood in various arts of battle," Scintel explained with pride in her voice. "What we are seeing is just a minor taste, since they can't damage each other significantly. It is up to the buyers to use them as they see fit."
"So they could be used as professional fighters."
"That is one possibility," she nodded. "Or even in your profession, Alad."
"A slave fixer," Anakin tested the idea. "Well, as long as they have some form of implant it could work, as a final insurance. At what age did they become slaves?"
"Eight years old, I believe."
"Yes, an implant is needed in that case."
The fight in the arena lasted for another four minutes. It ended with Mr. Pink trapping his opponent in a submission move that reminded me of a Figure 4 Leg Lock.
The conductor tapped both fighters with his own staff and it was the signal for the end of the bout as Mr. Pink released his opponent immediately.
The crowd roared in appreciation.
I stiffened as I felt the probability lines shift.
A chirping sound from Scintel's throne stopped her from getting even more grabby with Anakin. She tapped a button, allowing a small holo of Minister Koltal to appear in front of her.
"Minister? Why are you contacting me? I was in the middle of something."
"This can't wait, majesty. I need you to leave the arena at once for your own safety. We managed to get the aide to talk somewhat, but he took his own life with a suicide pill embedded in a tooth. There is going to be an attack of some kind on the auction!"
"Minister, do you have any idea how it would look if I abandoned the auction to our clients? Do you have nothing more specific?"
"No, your majest-"
I felt the floor under my feet heave and shudder.
At last, with a worthy excuse in hand, I dove to the floor as the transparisteel covering the front of the Royal Box shattered.
The concussion came next and I used the Force to create a dampening kinetic shield around my montrals.
Anakin had also reacted, grabbing a screaming Scintel out of her throne, falling to the floor and covering her with his body.
"We need to move!" he shouted.
I dove forward from the floor, slamming my hand onto the control panel.
Naturally, it didn't work and the floor underneath my body began tilting as the entire Royal Box threatened to tear itself off from its supports.
I slammed my hand down again, this time using the Force to push the door into its recess.
Anakin and I grabbed Scintel underneath her arms and we threw ourselves forward into the adjoining corridor.
The shriek of tearing durasteel, followed by crumbling stone heralded the Royal box finally giving up the ghost and falling down the 23 meters to the arena floor.
"Where are my guards?" gasped Scintel as we lay on the floor.
She was right, there should've always been at least two royal bodyguards outside the door. Now there was no one and the rubble strewn corridor was only filled with dust from the explosion.
"We need to move," Anakin said urgently, jumping to his feet and helping her up.
"Wait! Incoming!" I snapped a warning, getting my feet under me. I felt four zygerrians rushing towards our position, but their emotions were all wrong for royal guards trying to protect or rescue their liege. "Two that side and two coming from the other direction."
Anakin sensed it as well and shoved Scintel to the side, forcing her to kneel, "Keep your head down!"
I grabbed two hand sized pieces of fallen duracrete and burst into a sprint down the corridor.
My arms reared back and I threw both pieces forward, giving them as subtle a boost with the Force as I could afford.
Two armed and masked zygerrians in lower ranked guard uniforms, brandishing their weapons, had just enough time to turn the corner before my improvised projectiles smashed into their chests.
"ARGHH!"
Their preoccupation with their pain meant I was easily able to close the distance.
I rolled forward and flowed into a leg sweep of the first assassin, who crashed onto his back, accidentally firing off his blaster into the ceiling in the process.
Flinging myself forward, a rapid pair of strikes to his chest and jaw left him with broken ribs, cheek, concussion and I finished him off with a Force Sleep.
The second assassin was recovering at this point, trying to bring his blaster to bear.
I surged forward, slapping the weapon aside and lifted my left leg into a kick straight between his legs.
The pain doubled him over, only for his face to meet my rising knee and send him flopping backward into unconsciousness with a dislocated jaw and broken nose.
I whirled around to see Anakin had also dispatched the other would-be assassins with little issue and was arming himself with both their blaster pistols.
It was so tempting for me to do the same, but I had a cover to keep. Only Scintel could give me permission to pick up a weapon.
The queen was still in some shock, but managed to get onto her own feet and walked closer to the masked assassins. I hurried back to her and saw her staring at the masked faces with an appalled recognition.
"This is impossible," she muttered, shaking her head.
"What is? Do you recognize them?" Anakin asked urgently.
The masks were mostly white, but had a rather exaggerated, stylized rendition of a zygerrian face painted on them.
"Yes, but it will take too long to explain. We need to get out of here… and you can't take me back to the palace."
He frowned, "You think they're waiting for you to try that."
Scintel coughed as she inhaled some dust, "Argh, yes. Alad, I'm hiring you, I'll give you an extra thousand credit discount per slave if you become my mercenary and help me with this."
'Snips?' Anakin thought, his eyes not leaving the queen's.
'Do it, master. Whoever these assassins are, we're clearly in the middle of a conspiracy of sorts aimed at Scintel and the current government. If they fall, it means we can't buy back the kirosian colonists.'
"All right, highness. You've got my services. What about Atre?"
The queen stared at me, clearly debating with herself. "Atre, you're clearly trained to defend yourself and your owner. Does that include blasters?"
"Yes mistress," I confirmed.
"Give her the other blaster," Scintel ordered.
Anakin handed the weapon over, hilt first. "Now, majesty. Do you know of a place where we can hide and regroup with my colleague?"
"Yes, but I first need to disguise myself, keep an eye on the corridors." She ripped off her elegant long dress and knelt to begin stripping one of the assassins. Being a guy, he naturally couldn't help giving her a long look before turning around and covering the corridor with the blaster.
'Snips, are we seeing the beginning of a civil war?'
'Maybe, Skyguy. Future is really in flux at the moment,' I shook my head in frustration. How annoying, the zygerrians were well on their way to splintering without any help from us it seemed.
HK was going to be so disappointed.
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