Hutt Campaign III
The Assassin
A heavily modified Sienar Star Courier whispered into the Y'Toub system, its added stealth systems already at work masking the truth of its presence. The Glorious Jewel of the Hutts, Nal Hutta, filed the viewport with its ghastly swampy light. Darth Maul, Sith Lord and assassin, stared at the polluted world with violent yellow eyes. The Zabrak considered his master's command, wondering if he had made the right decision to come straight to the ruling world of the Hutts or if he should have ventured to Circumtore, the apparent heart of recent pirate action. They were bold enough to strike armadas twice their number and steal away with the ships and their living cargo. And though there had been a couple occasions when shipments of glitterstim spice or exotic luxury items had been taken, the focus had been on striking and ruining slavers.
And for whatever reason, his master assumed the slavers were a distraction for something bigger. Something more important. Their liberation drew the attention of the Hutts away from whatever their secret foe intended. But Maul, who had been a slave until the Nightsisters of Dathomir handed him over to the Sith Lords, saw the unfolding pattern for what it was: a crusade against slavery. Given the rumors of a rogue Jedi leading the pirates, Maul increasingly believed the veracity of his suspicion.
And though I respect my master, he is a fool to ignore my words.
Darth Maul piloted his shuttle toward a moon orbiting Nal Hutta. The most important of those moons, in fact. Plenty of craft came and went from that moon. After all, Nar Shaddaa was a pale imitation of Coruscant. With cityscapes built across its surface, the moon slowly became a hub of economic activity throughout Hutt Space and the wide swaths of the Outer Rim. He had recently visited the moon on business, slaying a singer to prove his worthiness as an assassin. It had been child's play, but the task had helped him develop his skills. Infiltration and investigation were vital in his current field of work.
And if there is a Jedi leading these pirates, then I may need to improve them to their peak. She might be able to detect me, so far from the shroud of the dark side lingering over Coruscant. And even if she fails to notice me until it's too late, then the practice will have been valuable regardless.
Maul had tested the strength of the shroud of the dark side over Coruscant shortly before he departed on this mission. He had gotten within a few blocks of the Jedi Temple, watching as they came and went unaware of the Sith Lords onworld.
His thoughts then turned to the foreign Sith Lord, the strange woman who dared name herself the Dark Lord of the Sith. They did not know where she had fled to, likely moving about to avoid the attention of her Sith betters. Maul had no cause to worry about her. She had been repelled from Muunilinst after her failed attempt to slay his master's master, Darth Plagueis. Maul worried more about the Muun Sith Lord. Plagueis must know of him. Darth Maul knew that his present existence violated the Rule of Two as established by Darth Bane. But he also knew that his master would move against his master.
Soon, Darth Sidious would be the Sith Master.
And when that transpired, Darth Maul would formally become the Sith Apprentice. He would continue growing strong enough to overthrow his master once the Jedi had been destroyed. His master was the one established to bring about their destruction, along with the end of their Republic. A new Sith Empire—Maul's grand inheritance—would arise from the ashes of the Republic.
His shuttle approached Nar Shaddaa. The moon was the grey dull of dirty durasteel and mangled duracrete piles. Small trading outposts orbited the moon, no doubt the personal possession of a Hutt who owned a sprawling, worthless estate on Nal Hutta. Maul passed them, for his business would be on Nar Shaddaa proper. He held no delusions about the potential difficulty of the task before him. But given the disruption in the slave trade throughout Hutt Space, many would be eager to aid an assassin pursuing the rumored Jedi leading the crusade.
As his shuttle neared the moon's atmosphere, Darth Maul smirked. Soon he would be on the Jedi's trail. Once he caught up with the interloper, they would perish by his blade. After that, he would vanish once more, a shadow hidden from those who might expose it with light.
Darth Gladiolus stood on the bridge of her still-unnamed flagship. Repairs of the damages caused during the taking of the vessel were nearly finished. She had a few ideas for a proper name playing around in her head. Every vessel in her expanding armada, from salvaged snubfighters to retrofitted cruisers, bore two titles. Each had their personal name—even some of the snubfighters, though more oft the name of the ship and the name of the pilot were indistinguishable—and each bore, in their transponder codes, the title of HMS. Only she knew the true meaning of those letters. It had been impulsive, reckless even, but she could not help but decide that the title was fitting for her fleet. Though she suspected should the meaning leak, the crew of her armada might decide the "Her Majesty's" portion should refer to the 'Jedi' leading them.
Perhaps I could use that misunderstanding to further their loyalty, she considered, watching through a transparisteel viewport as twelve vessels approached the jump vector to the nearest hyperspace lane. Though would they accept a Jedi with delusions of Queenship? She shook the thought away. By now, it was unnecessary. Any who would not pledge their loyalty to her had departed. Those who remained were swayed that the Force guided her toward liberating all sentients within the confines of Hutt Space.
She watched the dozen ships until they reached their jump point and vanished into hyperspace. That would be the First Fleet, which would head for Hollastin in the south of Hutt Space. She had entertained further using Circumtore as a base for her operations, but that would be too obvious. Too blatant. Any numbers moving in or out would be noticed, given her past actions.
Maybe I could… No. Leave it alone until a danger arises or the right time nears.
Still, Darth Gladiolus hoped her decision to split her forces into three fleets would advance her plans ahead of the schedule she had decided upon. After discussion with her three admirals—she tried to not be astonished her forces had grown to the point she required proper admirals to maintain everything—they had decided upon three new systems as rendezvous points for their separate fleets whenever not busy haunting the hyperlanes of Hutt Space. Should the worst ever come to pass, they would return to the Godsheart system. But unless that transpired, they would remain independent. She would venture from point to point as necessary, taking command as she saw fit, whenever not attached to the fleet placed under her direct command.
But until the day came to leap her full might into the Y'Toub system, home to Nal Hutta and its economically potent moon of Nar Shaddaa, Gladiolus would keep them separate. That was necessary if she were to maintain her effort to place further and further pressure upon the Hutts. She could sense the weakness spreading throughout their domain. While no systems had joined her yet, Gladiolus knew it was merely a matter of time. Once the worlds tyrannized by the Hutts realized someone dared stand against their cruel overlords, those desiring to overthrow their unworthy rulers would rise in rebellion. While many would fail, those few who did succeed would flock to her banner and faithfully serve her.
And the rest? Well, they would make clear which worlds would be vulnerable to her influence. Their sacrifice would be immortalized, transformed into martyrs in honor of their joyous deaths.
"Second Fleet is moving out, Master Jedi," reported a Zeltron comm officer. He was the same one from the day Niem's first batch of ships arrived in the Godsheart system. "They're requesting coordinates for their jump to their station point."
Gladiolus nodded. "Send Admiral Hemmen his data packet, then."
"Understood."
The Sith Lord watched the Second Fleet as they moved out to their jump point. They would be heading for Ilos Minor, a world in the north of Hutt Space. From it, they could terrorize most of the northern hyperlanes. Given the recent strike near Keldoonie against the Trandoshan slavers, she could not place any of her forces along hyperlanes that headed directly into Nal Hutta. Not unless she wanted to provoke an early fight with the Hutts.
Tempting, tempting…
"Master Jedi?" asked a smooth, almost unaccented voice. "The rest of the Third Fleet is ready for departure at your command."
Gladiolus nodded. She then turned to face the Admiral of the Third Fleet, Yumerra Bon. An albino Twi'lek with snaking tattoos along her single remaining lekku, Yumerra had faced a disturbing amount of interest from slavers. She had bounced between masters for several years until Gladiolus liberated her. She had been the first to request a blaster during Gladiolus's first liberation of a slaver ship, despite the fact she dared not emerge. The woman had feared the punishment should her liberator fall in battle and fail in her efforts. Guilt concerning her cowardice had culled any shred of weakness she might possess. After some success as a quartermaster during the past weeks, Gladiolus had decided the Twi'lek possessed the skills necessary to be an admiral in her fleet.
Many had been astonished by the promotion, but none envied the Twi'lek. At least, none dared envy Yumerra while in Gladiolus's presence.
"Good. Set a course for Sleheyron."
Yumerra frowned. "Are you certain, Master Jedi? Sleheyron is a major economic world. I cannot think of many systems more important to the Hutts than it. Striking there is like tossing a lit torch into a gundark's nest."
"I know. And that is why we will strike there. They will not expect any to dare them. Who would challenge the strength of the Hutts? Who would dare draw their ire and hatred?"
Yumerra breathed out heavily. "You mean to provoke them. To make them look one way while the First and Second Fleets hamper trade through the sector."
"Indeed. It may not be the Jedi way to strike so, but it must be done. I must take the offensive if I am to defeat the Hutts."
"I… I am pained to admit, Master Jedi, but I would feel more comfortable striking Sleheyron with our full strength. But since your aim is to spread them thin while hunting us and the other fleets, weakening them through disrupted trade, I guess I can swallow my concerns and follow through with your commands."
Gladiolus focused on maintaining a soft, pleasant smile. Her impulse was to smile wide and crooked, reveling in her influence over others. But that aspect of her nature had to be suppressed while she maintained the fiction that she was a Jedi. She longed to reveal the truth. After all, she was more comfortable as a Sith than as a Jedi. She would proudly justify her actions under the Sith Code, even if other Sith might have been inclined to enslave any who stood against them in lieu of the wiser choice, of freeing slaves and drawing out their full strength.
Perhaps that was their intention with their slaves. She nearly sighed. A shame I have no records of theirs to go through. If I had that, then perhaps I could confirm one way or another.
While she had some Sith holocrons aboard the Dearg Due, those were all focused on training her powers in the Force and the lightsaber, not for teaching her the lore and history of past Sith Orders. Some back on Earth had that knowledge, but they had remained behind. She had no need for them then, when it was she and the Dearg Due, ready to stride out into the galaxy and leave earthquakes in her wake.
"Inform the fleet we'll be departing soon," Gladiolus said when Admiral Yumerra fell silent. She turned to stare out the viewport once more. "I expect every ship to be at battle ready an hour before reversion into normal space. Battle will commence shortly after we arrive."
"Understood, Master Jedi."
Gladiolus smiled slightly as Admiral Yumerra's clicking boot steps drifted away. She lowered into a kneeling position and slipped into meditation as the Third Fleet prepared for their jump to lightspeed.
Maul settled his shuttle on a landing pad in the old Corellian sector. In the six thousand years since the first Corellians arrived and then established themselves on Nar Shaddaa, they had drifted across the city-world, reestablishing a new quarter for their numbers every few centuries. In their wake, others flowed in and changed whatever they could to be theirs. Darth Maul could not say which of the old Corellian sectors he landed at, but he knew what manner of scoundrel he would find in this particular one: fellow assassins. In the Outer Rim, many had cause to want another dead. Hutts might not attack or move against each other covertly, but many other powers floated about the lanes outside of Republic Space. While he would be superior to them all, thanks to his training as a Sith, Maul desired the utility other assassins would provide him. He would act in the stead of an intelligence agent desiring assistance removing the head of the anti-slavery force spreading through Hutt Space. They would believe him lesser until he stepped over their cooling corpses.
He disembarked and headed for district customs. Maul passed along a credit chip that would deposit the requisite fee—and mark the customs official for elimination by security forces once he finished his mission. While a Zabrak of his coloring was not that unusual, Maul needed to mask his comings and goings however he could. While he could skip through the customs process entirely, that would stand out more than anything else Maul could do beyond revealing himself as a Sith Lord to a Jedi or one of their spies.
He drifted through the quarter, allowing his senses to guide his course. Maul could not select any killer. He needed someone professional but daring enough to risk fighting a Jedi. Many assassins feared the tales of the Jedi spread throughout the galaxy. Were Maul not a Sith Lord, he might have shared their superstitions. But his training had brought him to the point where he could slay any Jedi but their Grand Master.
But what Jedi could this be? Those near this region should be monitored. That is what Master mentioned when he assigned this task to me. Could any dare slip through without revealing themselves?
More so, that Darth Gladiolus, the other Sith, remains a danger. Perhaps it is her involvement that—
He nearly tripped over his feet as realization flared through his mind: it was no Jedi targeting the slavers, but the fellow Sith. He grinned at the realization. She had come close to defeating Darth Plagueis, and she had managed to escape when Maul's arrival shifted the flow of their battle. He knew little of what transpired between the Sith Lords. Maul had gotten off easy after reporting his failure to his master. His current assignment, by a fashion, was merely a continuation of his prior mission to destroy Darth Gladiolus, now that he knew of her involvement. He had been a fool to think a Jedi would dare undermine a Hutt.
Maul paused as he almost passed a glum cantina. A buzz rattled low in his mind like flies over rotting flesh. The neon sign on its front sputtered and sparked, threatening to permanently darken. He stared at the sign, considering if the flickering was a sign or if the random changes had only caught his attention.
On impulse, the Sith assassin stepped toward the cantina. He entered the blackened doorway, followed a sooty stairwell down a dozen steps, and turned the corner into a smoky chamber. He took two steps forward and stopped.
"Who are you to enter the Hall of Death?" droned a voice. Though Maul understood their words, he could not determine their accent, species, or gender. "Name yourself, interloper."
Maul glanced around the chamber. The walls were obscured by smoke. Shadows shifted about.
He smirked. These were no threat to him.
"I am a shadow cast by Ruusan," Maul said with a grave tone. "I seek aid in eliminating the Jedi who disturbs this sector."
The chamber stilled. His gaze wandered, searching for any shadow that might return to motion. His hands itched to retrieve his double-bladed lightsaber tucked beneath his cloak. He doubted it would be difficult to slaughter everyone present. His senses pierced the smoke, revealing an even dozen about him. Most were to his sides, but a few stood before him.
None had managed to flank him yet. Eventually one would make the attempt. Maul would play that one carefully; he could not reveal his assassin abilities. Not yet, by his reckoning. Pride was the dominant religion of the Outer Rim, and only the weak and foolish revealed their apostasy. And thanks to that failing, Maul could manipulate these assassins into believing whatever decision they arrive at was of their own making, and not one he guided them to. Because once they believed that, they would be willing to believe any falsehood Maul peddled to them—including that they could kill a Jedi.
"A Jedi?" asked the gravelly voice. "Are you claiming the one making enemies of Hutts and slavers alike is a Jedi?"
"Who else could it be?" asked Maul. He took a step forward. Those furthest along in his peripheries shifted to be just out of sight. He still sensed them and took pleasure in the fact they dared not draw closer despite his progress into their den. "Think about the tales you have heard. Think about what is required to convince slavers their ships and cargo are not worth saving. That it would be better to surrender, to let the slaves be freed." He smirked, flashing a hint of sharpened teeth. "Does that sound like anything other than a Jedi?"
A deep, dark growl met Maul's words. He sensed their minds working; how doubt seeped through every possible opening. They drifted toward the conclusion he had gifted them. A conclusion that good sense would suggest false. Yet could they take that chance? Could these assassins risk not believing the offered truth that a Jedi was busy tearing apart Hutt slaver operations? Slavery might mean nothing to them, but they relied on the wealth and success of Hutt Space to continue their way of life. Any disruption in that lucrative ecosystem meant their livelihoods and reputations were at risk.
Yet, why had nobody come to them before Maul with a contract? Clearly, this was the first these assassins had heard of Gladiolus's false venture. Their cause for not knowing did not trouble him, for it showed only weakness. A weakness he could exploit. If they remained as unaware of events occurring within the region of space where they operated, then they would know nothing of the broader galaxy.
Maul could even reveal to them, if briefly, that he was a Sith Lord. They would die shortly after, naturally, but it would explain his desire to hunt a Jedi.
"You know I speak true," said Maul once it became clear the gravelly voice would not respond. "A Jedi has decided to interfere in the business of Hutt Space. You may not care for the Hutts, but I cannot believe you care not for money."
"…what do you want and how much shall you pay?"
Maul mentally smirked. These assassins were as good as his. And by the time Gladiolus fell by his blade, so too would these fools. That or they would be blasted apart by whatever squabbling force his fellow Sith Lord had put together.
With that amusing thought dominating his mind, Darth Maul made them an offer they could not refuse.
Gladiolus returned to meditating on the bridge as the crews of the Third Fleet hustled to battle stations. They had not reverted into real space yet, but their impending arrival at Sleheyron meant they would soon see action. Unlike the First and Second Fleets, their mission required a quick jump before initiating conflict with the local defense force. How long the fighting would last depended on how the fighting played out. Her battle meditation would level the field against any experienced warriors defending Sleheyron. Weak defenses would fold. But if numbers or errors swayed the fighting in the enemy's favor, they would need to withdraw to a more isolated part of Hutt Space for repairs.
There can be no errors nor mistakes this day, Gladiolus thought. Sleheyron must fall, or I risk being lost.
After all, the success of her crusade relied on her continued existence. Yes, Landren and Hemmen, Yumerra and Niem could carry on for a time. But the Hutts would eventually destroy them. She possessed zero hope or confidence in her crusade against slavery and those foul slugs could persist without her. More so, they would receive no aid from beyond Hutt Space. The other Sith Lords cared for nothing but their revenge, while the Jedi were content to wither away in their ivory tower. Everywhere she looked, the Sith Lord saw nothing but decay and failure.
Clicking steps approached. Gladiolus opened her eyes slowly, sensing Admiral Yumerra and her slow, wary approach.
"How long until we arrive, Admiral?"
"About ten minutes before reversion, Master Jedi." The admiral's voice lowered. "Are you certain we must be prepared to fight upon arrival? I thought Jedi seek diplomacy over violence."
Gladiolus pursed her lips. She swore they had this very conversation before their jump from the Godsheart system. "I wish we could speak with them and convince them their practices are wrong. Abhorrent. But their strength and wealth is built off the slave trade and the utility slaves provide to refining tibanna gas into starship fuel. They will resist all attempts to bring about its destruction. We must understand that the moment they learn of our intentions, they will fight us. Especially since we have already disrupted their lucrative trade."
The admiral grunted. "So be it, then. I will inform the fleet of your thoughts. Some have questioned if this was the right choice."
Gladiolus glanced over her shoulder at Admiral Yumerra. "Do you disagree with my assessment, admiral?"
"I think you intend to provoke a fight, Master Jedi. I believe in this cause. I only… have my doubts."
"Doubts?"
"Yes, Master Jedi. Doubts that you're making the right choice."
Gladiolus sighed and rose to her feet. The admiral shifted away from her slightly, but Yumerra otherwise held her ground. The albino stared at the Sith Lord intently, mind at work as she pondered the other woman's thoughts.
"I understand your concern," Gladiolus said, a touch louder than necessary. She sensed the attention of the bridge crew, how they glanced her way. Yumerra was their voice in this situation. "I have heard similar sentiments from Landren when we planned for how to best wield these three fleets. He has been a… grounding force for me. He has helped me maintain my focus. Were it not for him, I might have risked everything to merely be an annoyance.
"Thanks to his efforts—and his interference—I have begun to make a difference." Gladiolus glanced around the bridge, taking in all who watched on in silence. Yumerra's blood-red gaze followed. "All of you are freed of your bonds, thanks to the decisions made between myself and Landren.
"And so that is why I make the decisions I do," Gladiolus continued as her gaze returned to Yumerra alone. "I understand how they appear from the outside. But they are necessary."
She then turned her back to the admiral. "We're five minutes out from reaching the Sleheyron system now, admiral. Prepare for battle."
"Yes… ma'am."
Gladiolus smirked. Finally, I'm no longer "Master Jedi". I wonder how long until I can get a "yes, my lord" from my people without any prompting.
The planetary authorities of Sleheyron raised brief, metaphorical eyebrows as fourteen cruisers of varying classifications dropped out of hyperspace. They were slow to broadcast their transponder codes. Once they did, though, the local security forces flagged all fourteen cruisers as being safe for commerce. Given the world's chief exports were slaves and fuel refined from tibanna gas, their economic interests salivated at what profits they might draw in thanks to the arriving ships.
The authorities monitored the fourteen ships as they drifted away from the standard approach to the planet. They slowly got worried as the new arrivals approached a departing freighter with a compliment of a dozen slaves sold to a night house on Nar Shaddaa.
The Sleheyron authorities grew concerned when the newcomer ships broadcasted a tight beam frequency to the freighter. Given that said freighter moved to try and jump to lightspeed almost immediately after they received the communication, they quickly assumed the message in question was hostile.
They hailed the newcomer fleet. After all, the authorities on Sleheyron needed to understand what was happening in their space. If what they observed was the standard competition between Hutts and other cartels, then they would sit back and monitor the situation. But if these fourteen cruisers could prove a threat to their domestic operations, then they needed to take action.
Eventually, a message was broadcast from the largest cruiser, a great boxy thing, to all of Sleheyron. The message repeated itself: "In the name of the Senate of the Galactic Republic, I, Jedi Knight Whae Rynn, am placing the Sleheyron system under interdiction until your slave operations can be permanently ended."
And with that, the security forces scrambled into action.
"Master Jedi. We're detecting several signals from the planet below."
Gladiolus nodded as she gazed upon the volcanic face of Sleheyron. The HMS Never Again reported a successful boarding of the captive freighter. The crew would be held while their ship was impounded and inspected for contraband. Given they already found slaves on the ship's manifest, Gladiolus doubted the crew would ever see the outside of a cell unless they swore fealty to her.
Though with the way loyalties float in the Outer Rim, it may not be the wisest choice to trust those who swear oaths. Not unless I can weave the Force into their oaths.
Minutes passed as the meager security forces of Sleheyron moved to confront her fleet. She found herself disappointed by how little had been set aside for the defense of Sleheyron and its economic interests. Given its importance in Hutt Space, she had expected more than scrambling gunboats and barges with an accompanying flight of snubfighters. Then again, she doubted the authorities expected an attack on the present scale. Her people already intercepted a HoloNet message sent to Nal Hutta, requesting support. The message would arrive far too late for a fleet to depart for Sleheyron and stop Gladiolus in her efforts. She would be long gone by then.
Yet part of her was tempted to remain behind and challenge the Hutt fleet.
However, she knew the time had not arrived to confront the foe. Nal Hutta would be receiving messages from elsewhere in their space of attacks against slavers. Or so she hoped since the other fleets had departed the Godsheart system before hers. Gladiolus suspected the message from Sleheyron would be granted preference over calls from Ilos Minor or Hollastin, especially if they received it first and she made herself known.
Given the message I sent to the planet, the Hutts will know who I am soon enough. And once they know that I am a Jedi acting on behalf of the Senate, they will place pressure upon Coruscant—
A sly smile emerged upon her face. She had not intended to cause trouble for Jedi and Senate alike, but she had done it. Gladiolus could not take back her choice if she wanted to. She hoped her decision would benefit her before she destroyed the Hutts.
It will benefit me where it concerns the Republic and their Jedi, however, Gladiolus thought as she lowered into meditation. She grinned as she sensed something in the Force. Something else shall occur this day as well. Will it benefit me too, or will it hinder my future efforts?
Gladiolus put thoughts of the future out of mind as she reached out with her battle meditation and guided her forces through the battle.
Darth Maul glanced between the three assassins who sat behind him with mulish expressions. He knew their master considered them expendable, which made them perfect for the needs of the Sith. They would perish opening the way for him to reach Darth Gladiolus. Once he reached her, he would slay her. She was an ill-trained Sith acolyte convinced she deserved the title of 'Sith Lord'. If what his master had told him was true, she had even dared claim the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. She believed herself to be the greatest of their order—a delusion that could only be born of isolation and ignorance. He masked his disbelief upon hearing so.
The spiraling vortex of hyperspace filling his viewport would soon give way to the Sleheyron system. They had been en route to Sionia, notorious for the number of master thieves trained on the world when a transmission had been redirected their way from Nar Shaddaa. They sat quietly as they listened to the distress message sent from the Sleheyron authorities. The Sith assassin immediately knew who was responsible for the daring strike against that valuable world. Maul managed to easily drop out of hyperspace at Nimban, where the hyperlanes to Sionia and Sleheyron diverged. They jumped back to lightspeed within fifteen minutes of reversion.
Once we reach Sleheyron, I will find you, Gladiolus. I will find you, I will kill you, and I will escape without anyone knowing.
With a dark smirk, Maul prepared for his coming clash. Soon, his master would ascend to be the Dark Lord of the Sith, the Sith Master. And Darth Maul would prove his worthiness as a Sith apprentice by killing one of their own, just as they had in the eons before Darth Bane.
Gladiolus's gaze swiveled to a pointed shuttle with open foil-wings as it dropped out of hyperspace. Her interdictor cruisers had deactivated their fields after ninety minutes of combat. The Third Fleet had achieved superiority in orbit, able to stop anything from fleeing the surface. Anyone who might pass the Sleheyron system was of no interest to her. Not even the slavers, for they would either stop at Sleheyron and be swept up in her operation or be found and destroyed some other day.
She had already begun landing forces on the planet, seizing control of slave facilities and gas refineries alike. More fighting occurred to protect the refineries, but those defenders would fall. She was certain of her eventual and total victory on this world.
Her brows furrowed as she watched the newly arrived shuttle move sluggishly from its reversion point. It was as though whoever was piloting the vessel was uncertain where they should go. Her mouth opened to command the comm officer to contact the shuttle when a mind brushed against hers.
A Sith.
She stiffened. Her dark side rivals had discovered her. Gladiolus briefly wondered how they achieved that feat before recalling that many in the galactic underworld would be chaffing as a result of her strikes against the Hutt slave trade. Given her galactic peers had influence among the devious and ghoulish, they would have learned of her efforts—and connected the dots.
So, Plagueis. Have you sent that assassin against me? Was it even you who sent this assassin? Or has your apprentice taken the initiative?
Gladiolus focused her attention on the shuttle and the Sith within. She sensed three others, but she disregarded them. Compared to the Force-sensitive assassin, they were unworthy of her attention. More so, she sensed the other Sith's disinterest in them. They were expendable pawns meant to perish by her hand. Odds were the other Sith intended for them to die in order to ease his effort to try and murder her.
A smile graced her face. She had to swallow a laugh, for it would be unseemly for a Jedi to laugh at a pending assassination attempt. They would be serene in the face of danger, content with the knowledge that if the Force intended for them to die, then the attempt would succeed.
But she was no Jedi. She was a Sith Lord, one who claimed the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. She would slay this assassin pretender with ease. Afterward, she would send the remnants of his corpse to Sidious or Plagueis. She did not know which she would choose as the recipient. They would learn that they could not stop her without personally attending to the threat she posed. She was no simpleton who could be taken down by mere chance or a by a half-trained tool. She was their equal, their superior, one who held the tenets of the Sith Code close to the bosom. Her crusade was built off a simple truth: no Sith should permit any sentient to be a slave to their weakness. All who lived fought for their survival, even if it occurred by a simple fashion. Fighting should always be respected, even if the weaker one was destined to perish.
"Admiral," Gladiolus said, turning to where Yumerra stood behind a comm officer. "The shuttle that just arrived in-system. Grant them permission to land in my flag hangar."
"Ma'am, are you certain?" asked Admiral Yumerra. "Do you know who they are?"
"I have my suspicions. Assassins, if I must guess as to who they are. They must've gotten lucky—or someone managed to contact a group near enough to Sleheyron they could jump in while we continue with our mop-up operations."
"You… You wish to confront assassins? Alone?"
Gladiolus nodded. "They are here for me. I would be a poor host if I did not… speak with them."
Admiral Yumerra sighed and then nodded. "Alert the nearest cruiser to the shuttle they have permission to land here. Inform them they're only to land in the flag hangar." She glanced at Gladiolus before adding, "Master Jedi Rynn will happily greet our newly arrived friends."
"But Admiral, the Master Jedi said—"
"What we needed to hear, lieutenant. The assassins require a different message." Admiral Yumerra glanced at Gladiolus. "Right, ma'am?"
"Indeed," she said with a pleased smile. Once the message was sent, Gladiolus swept from the bridge and headed for her flag hangar. Soon she was about to visit an unpleasant surprise upon her foe.
Nearly twelve minutes passed before the interloper shuttle passed through the magnetized shield holding atmosphere within Gladiolus's flag hangar. The Sith Lord had sealed the doors behind her using her personalized codes and then deactivated the sensors and cameras. She expected the Sith pursuing her would force her to break the Jedi mask she had assumed. That falsehood would remain valuable for however long she could maintain it—and she would resist attempts to tear it away prematurely. She suspected the truth would come to light near the end of her campaign against the Hutts, but that remained in the future. As everything stood, her false mask remained firmly in place.
The shuttle settled lightly upon the hangar floor. Most of its length was a long nose shaped like a thick dagger. A large bulbous cockpit jutted from the rear of the nose, connected to the folded wings. There was a slight red viewport near where the nose reached the cockpit, staring at her like the solitary eye of a cyclops.
A boarding ramp descended from the rear of the shuttle. Gladiolus raised an eyebrow as multiple footsteps disembarked. She sensed her fellow Sith, but he had not joined the disembarking assassins.
Her lips twitched into a smirk. So, sending the fodder forward first. How quaint—and how cowardly.
Gladiolus waited on the assassins. Three figures stepped forward to confront her, blasters raised and vibroblades prepared. Their clothes were grimy and none were human. In fact, she knew there were several in her fleet from each species the assassins came from. On her right was a Rodian, their green skin slightly mottled by some disease chewing through their body. Her nose wrinkled thinking of the failures necessary to not receive treatment. Bacta, produced solely on the Coreworld of Thyferra, was plentiful enough in Hutt Space that each of her three fleets had enough surplus of the wonder drug to survive thirty percent causalities.
On her left was a Twi'lek, face scarred and one eye blinded. Yet despite the haphazard, rough exterior, Gladiolus knew him to be the fiercest of the three. He was the kind to not fall first nor to fall easily. If any of these three assassins could grant the Sith Lord still aboard the shuttle the opening he needed to slay her, it would be him.
The assassin before her looked human, but something about him felt wrong. Gladiolus focused on him and found she could not make sense of his thoughts. While she did not read minds, she could pick up on the thoughts and feelings of those around her. It was useful, even if she did not use the trick often. She could passively sense if someone dared lie to her, and it was too effective for even the finest card sharks to deceive.
"You the Jedi?" asked the not-man. "We heard you were hiring people."
"I am," Gladiolus said. She palmed her lightsaber, which had been secreted up her sleeve. "My name is Whae Rynn. Would you care to introduce yourself?"
The assassins exchanged guarded looks. Gladiolus nearly rolled her eyes. Did they think she could not sense their willingness to attack her? In all likelihood, they knew nothing of a Jedi's powers, nor that of a Sith Lord. She doubted they even knew of the latter. Their blasters turned toward her. Instead of drawing her lightsaber, she raised her left hand as they fired. With a touch of energy manipulation, all three bolts flew to her open palm. She absorbed the energy, leaving nothing but a hint of pale smoke rising from her unmarked hand.
"…what?" asked the not-man. The Twi'lek and the Rodian only stared, their shock radiating through the Force.
"Cute trick, huh?" asked Gladiolus. She shifted so she leaned heavily onto her left leg. "Let me show you another one."
In the blink of an eye, she crossed the distance between them, lightsaber activating as she moved. Before the not-man could begin his futile attempt at defense, she sliced him in half from groin to crown. The cauterized halves split open like a peeled banana, collapsing sideways toward his colleagues.
Their blasters rose, but it was too late. Gladiolus severed the arms holding blasters, then ducked and weaved around them, delivering several painful, but nonlethal cuts. With a final, sweeping slash, she beheaded them.
Their heads collapsed to the plasteel floor with soft thumps.
Gladiolus turned to face the shuttle. "Come forth, little Sith. I must repay you for interrupting my duel with Plagueis, your master's master. Come forward and let justice be done upon you, assassin!"
For several seconds, she thought the Sith aboard might ignore her and instead blast apart the hangar with his shuttle's cannons. Gladiolus was more confident in the Force's ability to turn those mighty blasts away than her flimsy lightsaber. After all, the Force was the greater power. It was the source of power for Jedi and Sith alike, despite the fact they approached that great wellspring of power differently. Having pretended to be the former, she would not deny that the Jedi accrued strength from the Force. She only thought their passivity would be their damnation in the end. Whether it came by her hands or those of her Sith foes did not matter. The Jedi would be cast down for their failure to adapt to changes in the galaxy and for their failure to uphold their vows to promote justice and peace throughout the galaxy.
Footsteps echoed down the landing ramp. His were far softer than the footsteps of the dead assassins, betraying the Sith's training in the dark side and as an assassin.
A black-cloaked figure emerged from behind the shuttle. He walked beneath the right wing, the hood of his cloak raised to mask most of his face. Gladiolus made out his jaw, the center of his face, and a burning yellow eye almost identical to hers hidden beneath her glamour. His face was patterned red and black in a traditional Sith style she recognized from a holocron of lore and histories. Gladiolus spotted hints of her markings in his appearance, though his were harsher and twisted. He flashed his teeth, sharpened with bloody gums.
"So you are the assassin."
"And you are the pretender."
Gladiolus grinned. She had not expected the soft rasp of the Sith before her. She had imagined a harsh voice or a cruel one, something made of cold and ice and a thousand knives. But his voice possessed a warmth almost betraying his fealty to the dark side of the Force and the Sith Order founded by Darth Bane a thousand years ago.
She lazily spun her lightsaber, the yellow blade humming with every pass. "So, will you attempt to kill me with the Force? Or are you beholden to your lightsaber?"
The other Sith snarled and drew out his lightsaber. The hilt was overly long, suggesting it held secrets she knew not. A heartbeat passed, and then he lunged forward. Gladiolus waited until the crimson of his thrumming lightsaber filled a quarter of her vision before she casually deactivated her weapon and cast a blast of Force lightning at him. She poured about half her strength into the blast, restraining herself from casting her almighty black lightning that sent dementors fleeing for Azkaban and burnt to cinders the Jedi whose identity she stole.
The other Sith caught her blast of power on his ignited blade. He retreated a few steps while allowing the bolts to scuttle along the blade until Gladiolus ended her assault. The hood of his cloak fell from his head, revealing the small horns emerging from his skull.
"You've been trained well," Gladiolus declared. "Why not join me? I see in your heart that you understand my crusade against these foul slavers. Abandon your false masters. Together, we can destroy them both—and then claim the galaxy."
The other Sith clicked his tongue. He lunged again, blade drawn slightly back as to jab forward.
Gladiolus frowned and waited until the Sith was too close to withdraw from his attack before parrying, her weapon snapping to life with a harsh, glorious thrum. The other Sith nearly yowled in the face of her swiftness. Her counter was inches from his head, just near enough to repel his mad dog assault.
"So you can fight," the other Sith said as though amused. "Nothing my master said suggested you possessed a talent for fighting with a lightsaber."
"I've had to learn the hard way," Gladiolus boasted. "The dead shared their wisdom, and I made it my power. I doubt you would understand, Zabrak."
He made a sound approximating a hissing laugh through his teeth. Gladiolus watched and waited, sensing that her foe's style of combat benefited from eager, overconfident foes.
"You've become too much like a Jedi," he eventually taunted.
"They have their virtues, as painful as it is to admit. While I could never be one of them, I can learn from their ways and adopt whatever they do right for my benefit."
"Weakness."
And that's why you'll die by my hand, thought Gladiolus. She instead said, "Then why not come test my weakness, Sithling? Or must you wait for the enemy to strike first?"
Seconds passed as the other Sith considered her words and her strength. Gladiolus prepared to press any advantage, any opening she might receive, no matter how slim.
A minute passed. He had not fallen for provocation.
Or so she believed, for a heartbeat after that realization passed through Gladiolus, the other Sith lunged forward once more. She blinked, surprised he would try the same attack again.
Assuming he is attempting the same attack.
Gladiolus stepped back and then to her right as the other Sith spun about, igniting a second blade from the other side of his oversized lightsaber hilt. She grinned at the sight.
A challenge. How delightful!
He spun and whirled about the hangar floor, seeking to impale her with either blade. Gladiolus retreated once she grew tired of the effort, opening a breathable gap between them. The space collapsed swiftly. She stepped forward and slammed her left hand at the other Sith, driving a mighty burst of Force power into his chest. His twirling trick left him unprepared for her Force attack. He flew back several feet, nearly colliding with the nose of his shuttle. His weapon did not deactivate, even as he tumbled and rolled across the hangar floor. She growled, witnessing how his weapon left bright molten lines in his wake.
She started toward him, a predator ready to unleash the final blow. The other Sith shot to his feet, snarling as he spun his weapon before him. Gladiolus paused and watched the two crimson blades twirl end over end. For a split second, she wondered about her chances against such a weapon. But then she remembered that she had more tools than just her lightsaber to bring about his demise. She raised her empty hand and drew on that potent mix of magic and the dark side. Green energy formed in her hand, growing in power as she prepared to cast a wave so sweeping and all-consuming he could not dodge.
The doors into the flag hangar suddenly hissed open. Gladiolus glanced over and stiffened. Divorced from her battle meditation and focused on the Sith before her, she had ignored the actions of her fleet, including all stationed aboard her unnamed flagship.
"Master Jedi, what's happenin—"
The other Sith lunged at the intruders. Gladiolus thinned her magic to a needle and cast it between her people and her foe. He sprung back as the emerald streak flowed between them. He paused, glanced between them and her, and then sneered mockingly.
"Approach them again and I shall tear your flay your skin and bleach your bones," said Gladiolus. "I am the danger in this hangar, Sith."
Seconds passed as the Zabrak Sith considered his options. To Gladiolus's surprise, he scurried back to his shuttle. Her left hand flexed, ready to rise and stop his retreat. But before she could, a laser turret descended from the shuttle's nose. Eyes widening, she lunged between her people and the shuttle. The hand prepared to stop his flight instead focused on absorbing the mass of fiery power unleashed. She grimaced as energy flowed through her, filling her with power enough to dominate her home planet alone.
But in the confusion of her trying to grapple with that power and bring it under her control, the shuttle evacuated and fled. Gladiolus's mouth opened, ready to command one of her interdictors stop the shuttle.
And then it vanished, jumping to lightspeed.
"Dammit," she muttered. Gladiolus deactivated her lightsaber, returned it to her belt, and left the hangar as though she were walking on pins and needles. Though her body struggled with the excess power coursing through her, her mind remained clear and focused.
I'll find you, Sithling. And when I do, I will destroy you. I will destroy you, and one day your masters shall follow you into the grave! Oh, you shall be dead, dead, dead!
And as she stalked the corridors of her flagship, the glamour masking the truth of Darth Gladiolus shimmered like a veil caught in the wind.