Only great things come of having two HKs in a room together.

I will never not love Kira giving people a hard time.

Baras does say during the Warrior finale that "from beyond darkness, I shall strike at you." And in this universe, he did. This chapter, I haven't forgotten about Thaera! Twenty-Four Sith Intelligence Headquarters, Dromund Kaas 14 ATC Thaera frowned down at the datapad in her hand as if her displeasure could somehow change its contents. A few steps away, Keeper looked as pale and solemn as always. She had recovered from the incident with the Star Cabal well enough to return to active duty, much to Thaera’s relief. Intelligence was far too much for one person to manage alone. “How is this possible?” Thaera muttered. “I’m sorry, sir. I wish I could give you a better answer,” Keeper said, reluctant to meet her eyes. “But with Intelligence at a fraction of its former capacity over the last two years…” “Anything could have slipped through the cracks. I know. It was a rhetorical question.” Thaera sighed and laid the datapad down on the desk behind her. “So, what do we have?” Keeper’s mouth tightened. “Very little. This is the first mention we’ve seen of this ‘Agent Eclipse.’ If the Republic forces on Tatooine had used a better encryption for their communications, we might not have even gotten this.” “Knowing is half the battle, or so they say. I assume you’ve put the best people on this?” “Of course, sir.” “Good. This is a matter of the highest urgency, Keeper. A Republic spy in our ranks cannot be tolerated.” Keeper nodded. “We’ll find them.” Thaera stared grimly at the nearest wall, memories drifting unbidden to the surface of her mind. “I will not permit the SIS to get the better of me. Of us.” Then her holocom went off. She activated the device, audio only. “I thought I asked not to be disturbed.” “I’m sorry, sir,” said the voice of one of the Minders in charge of internal security. “But there’s a Sith here asking to see you. She says she has an appointment.” Thaera frowned. Darth Nox wouldn’t ask, nor would she need to. What Sith would possibly…? Then she remembered that she did, in fact, have an appointment. “Keep her in the entrance hall,” she said. “I’ll be down shortly. Seeker out.” Keeper moved towards the door. “I should get back to work.” Thaera nodded. “Notify me the instant you find anything on Agent Eclipse.” “Yes, sir,” Keeper said, and left. Thaera took a moment to collect her thoughts, then headed down towards the entrance hall. The discovery of the possible existence of a Republic agent embedded somewhere in the Imperial hierarchy had caused her to completely forget her other business. Darth Nox had made very few requests upon taking control of Intelligence, but she had made one that had made Thaera question the Sith Lord’s capacity for reason. Nox wanted Sith apprentices to go through the training Intelligence gave field agents. Only a select few, of course, she’d said. Those who fit the appropriate personality profile. And then she’d suggested that should these candidates pass the training, Thaera would use them as actual agents. Combine Intelligence discipline and resourcefulness with Sith power, and you’ll have the perfect operatives. Thaera personally felt that Sith should stay as far away from Intelligence as possible and let them do their job, but she was in no position to argue with a Dark Council member, let alone the one who was now her direct superior. She had been surprised, however, when she received a message informing her that Nox had already found a possibility. She stopped short before walking into the entrance hall, taking a moment to study the person waiting quietly off to one side. Darth Nox’s candidate was a human female a little over five feet tall, with a build so slender that her plain black Sith robes seemed to envelop her small form in a shapeless cloud of darkness. She had golden-brown skin and deep black hair that framed an oval face. Her small, delicate nose, full mouth, and heavy-lidded dark eyes would probably be considered pretty by most humanoid species. Thaera was never sure about human ages, but the Sith looked quite young, possibly still an adolescent. That was a smart move on Nox’s part. If this idea of hers was going to work at all, it would have to be with younger Sith who were open to new ideas. The Sith noticed Thaera lurking in the doorway and moved forward with confidence. “Hello,” she said, smiling. “I know this is probably a bit weird, but I’m supposed to meet with whoever’s in charge here.” Thaera kept her face impassive. “That would be me.” The girl’s eyes widened; up close, Thaera could see that her irises, which had appeared black from a distance, were actually very dark blue. “Oh. Uh, I’m Kettrien Byrd. You probably already knew that.” Seeing a Sith, even an apprentice, become visibly flustered was certainly one of the odder things Thaera had ever experienced. “I am Seeker, head of Sith Intelligence,” she said coolly. “Darth Nox has informed me that you are a potential candidate to undergo Intelligence training. Is this correct?” Kettrien nodded. “Yes, sir.” The title seemed to come easily to her lips, another thing Thaera had not expected. “You are currently an apprentice in the Sith Order?” “Yes, sir. Lord Savadar Ekari is my master—this was his idea, actually. He heard about Darth Nox’s initiative and thought I would be suited for it.” “And how do you feel about it?” Kettrien shrugged. “Honestly? Being a spy seems pretty cool.” Thaera’s blank expression slipped as she found herself raising an eyebrow at that comment. “How old are you?” “Nineteen.” It seemed she was getting better at estimating human ages. “Excellent. Most Intelligence agents begin their training at a similar age.” “Makes sense,” Kettrien said. “I assume I need to go through some kind of approval process? I mean, you can’t just dump a Sith in with everyone else. It would be awkward.” Thaera’s eyebrow climbed higher. “Are you always this candid, Kettrien Byrd?” Kettrien winced. “That’s probably a bad trait in a spy, isn’t it?” “Our training program will help with that, if you qualify.” Thaera turned and started down the hallway towards Operations. “Come with me. There are a few tests you need to fill out.” Kettrien trotted up next to her, radiating excitement. “Sir, I know saying this probably won’t make a difference, but if I can help out by doing this, it would be really great. I was born outside the Empire, you see, and I actually have some experience with this type of—” “We’ll see,” Thaera said shortly. Kettrien fell silent. Thaera had to admit, the girl had spirit. It was a shame that Intelligence work would almost certainly break it. Assuming, of course, that her test results showed her to have the suitable character for it in the first place. Perhaps Nox’s idea had some merit after all.

I'm glad everyone liked the imagery! An important administrative note--I'm going to be doing NaNoWriMo, so updates during the month of November will be very sporadic if at all. I'll do my best. Twenty-Three The Citadel, Dromund Kaas 14 ATC Nox leaned back into the luxurious cushions of her sofa, watching the small, armored woman in front of her closely. A’tro was pacing back and forth, her cape swirling around her with each turn. “Baras,” she said with unconcealed venom. “Two years dead, and he’s still causing me problems.” Nox shrugged. “I don’t see why this has to be your problem. Just ignore it. I was going to.” “This Necrosion you met with said that Baras learned some of the Emperor’s secrets, and knowing him, that’s highly plausible.” A’tro stopped pacing. “As the Wrath, it’s my duty to investigate this further.” “And how are you planning on doing that? Everyone involved is dead.” “Now that I know where to start, that doesn’t matter.” A’tro turned on her heel and started making her way towards the exit to Nox’s chambers. “Come with me. Or don’t. I really don’t care.” That was an invitation if Nox had ever heard one. She extricated herself from the sofa and followed. A’tro marched through the Citadel, navigating the maze of corridors with confidence. “Where are we going?” Nox asked after a while. A’tro waited for a nearby group of Sith to bow deferentially and pass out of earshot before responding. “Baras’ chambers. I had hoped to never lay eyes on that place again, but…” “Desperate times call for desperate measures?” Nox suggested delicately. “Not desperation. Necessity.” “Ah. Of course.” Several minutes later, they reached their destination: a door on one of the lower levels of the Citadel. Nox watched with interest as A’tro entered a code into a keypad. The door slid open a moment later, the mechanisms creaking in protest after their long disuse. A’tro paused on the threshold for a moment, then shook her head and advanced forward, Nox in tow. The door ground shut behind them. As far as Nox could tell, the place looked much like any other set of Sith chambers. There was a considerable layer of dust—apparently A’tro had sealed the place off even from the cleaning droids—but apart from that it all appeared quite benign. Still, Nox understood A’tro’s reluctance to enter. Memory could be a dangerous thing. “I remember coming here when I was just an apprentice,” A’tro murmured, almost to herself, as she led Nox through a series of rooms. “It feels like an eternity ago.” “To think, we were apprentices at the same time,” Nox said. “It’s a wonder we never ran into each other. Then again, I suppose we moved in different circles.” “That’s true. I heard about what happened with your master and Darth Skotia, though.” “I think everyone heard about that,” Nox grumbled. “I was the one who killed him, you know, even if Zash took the credit.” “I don’t doubt it. Even then, you must have been very powerful.” A’tro stopped in front of what looked like a blank wall. “Here.” Nox raised an eyebrow. “Secret door?” “Yes.” A’tro held up one hand. Nox felt her gather the Force, and a moment later, a portion of the wall shifted and retracted, revealing an entrance. “Very nice,” Nox said. “Very neat. I’m afraid I have to give Baras some credit.” A’tro shrugged. “Give him all the credit you like. He’s past flattery now.” She stepped inside the room. Nox followed. The entrance was small enough that she had to stoop to avoid hitting her head. “Do you not worry about Force ghosts?” The room was filled with an assortment of computers and databanks that would not have looked out of place in Intelligence HQ. The tech was all a few years old, now, but at the height of Baras’ power it would have been the most advanced equipment available. Nox decided that she needed such a room for herself, and she needed it yesterday. A’tro immediately went to a terminal and started it up. “Ghosts? No, those don’t particularly concern me. Also, please don’t touch anything. I had all the security keyed to me after Baras’ death, and it would be very unfortunate if you set it off.” “Fine with me.” Nox leaned artfully against the nearest wall. “You know, I don’t think most people worry about ghosts. It’s an unfortunate mindset. They’re more prevalent than one might think.” “I suspect you’ve thinned the local population a bit, though.” “To an extent. At least the Council agreed to re-seal the Dark Temple; that should help matters considerably.” A’tro frowned at the terminal. “I’ve been in there. I can’t disagree that it’s dangerous.” “It would have been fine if the survey teams had been a little more subtle,” Nox sighed. “But no, they had to go and disturb Kallig, and now he refuses to go back to sleep.” She chuckled. “He likes to keep an eye on me. It’s sweet.” “I can’t imagine meeting one of my ancestors.” “Given that your ancestors were ridiculously violent, possibly cannibalistic Korribani warlords, I’m not sure I’d want to.” “On the other hand, it could be enlightening…here.” A’tro moved away from the terminal as a nearby holoprojector started up. “I think this is what we’re looking for.” It took a few moments for the holoprojector to warm up. Then the image of a masked Sith whom Nox recognized as Darth Baras appeared. “A’tro, my old apprentice,” the image said. A’tro tensed visibly. “Yes,” the image continued, “I suspect if anyone is ever to see this, it will be you. Though I do not believe I have underestimated you, if you are seeing this: congratulations.” Nox raised an eyebrow. “This seems rather personal. Would you like me to leave?” A’tro shook her head. “Don’t bother. Baras is dead and gone; his words mean nothing to me.” “How long have you rested on your laurels before perusing my records, I wonder?” Baras mused. “Do you still feel the sting of your injuries—for I would not perish quietly—or have you waited years, decades, drawn here now only by sheer desperation?” “Necessity,” A’tro snapped. And his words mean nothing to you, Nox thought. Definitely nothing. “If you are here seeking answers, I have them.” Even in holo form, Baras radiated smugness. “You may find your victory is not so sweet after you have heard what I have to say.” “Get on with it, you melodramatic—” A’tro stopped short, seeing Nox regarding her with a knowing expression. “Your master, the Emperor, used you to destroy me,” Baras said softly. “Did you know that? Did you know why? You were never one to question your orders, old friend. I doubt you could ever have imagined just what is being hidden from you.” “I hate to say it,” Nox murmured, “But that does corroborate with what Necrosion said.” A’tro remained silent and expressionless, but her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The image of Baras continued. “I have heard whispers over the years, found fragments of a greater truth that encompasses centuries and the entirety of the galaxy. With time and care, I pieced it all together. I learned the truth about our Emperor.” Nox leaned forward, intrigued in spite of herself. It seemed Baras’ reputation for being an eloquent and theatrical speaker had not been exaggerated. “The Emperor’s great power, his immortality, comes at a high price. Concealed and forgotten by history, entire worlds float dead and empty in the void—their living Force consumed to feed him. A being such as this has no care for political ideology. In time, Republic and Empire alike will fall before him.” “That’s a lie,” A’tro hissed, her eyes fixed intently on the holo. “Another wild conspiracy theory—where’s your evidence?” “I learned this truth, and I tried to stop it,” Baras said grimly. “Under my rule, the Empire would have quietly prepared for the inevitable war against its own icon. But if you are seeing this, I have failed. The Emperor is cunning, and his eyes are everywhere. He will not tolerate opposition.” Nox kept her face blank, but her mind was racing. If this were true, if even a fraction of it were true… She suddenly realized that she had a great deal to do. “So, what do you think of that, Lord A’tro?” Baras chuckled. “The Emperor’s Wrath—Quinn tells me you take such pride in the title.” “I should have killed you slower,” A’tro whispered. Nox’s brain burned with curiosity, but she had a feeling that A’tro was in no mood to answer inquiries, no matter how diplomatic. “How does it make you feel, knowing that it’s all a sham?” Baras gloated. “You, with all your power, possess no more freedom than you did when you served me. The Emperor will use you to destroy all who oppose him, and then you too shall fall.” “How dare you?” A’tro spat. “How dare you?” “I hope it burns you,” Baras purred. “I hope it rankles in your chest to know that all you have fought and bled for is a lie. I may lose this conflict of ours, but I take pleasure knowing that even from beyond the grave, I can still strike one final blow. Goodbye, apprentice. You will find proof of all this in my archives. Do with it as you will.” The recording ended. Nox eyed A’tro for a moment, then took a subtle step away from her. She looked calm enough, but in the Force, she felt ready to explode. “Perhaps,” Nox said after several more moments of silence, “I should leave you to your thoughts.” A’tro gave no acknowledgment that she had heard. Nox decided it would be prudent to put as much distance between herself and the seething Wrath as possible, and did so with Force-enhanced speed. Back in her chambers, she gathered together all of the reports her followers had sent her about Force ghosts and artifacts. Faced with the possibility of a malevolent entity that could destroy entire planets, even her power was not nearly enough.

See, that's the helpful thing about Mandalorians. If there's stuff that needs fighting, they can get it in abundance. So courteous.

Absolutely. Four Jedi minimum. Twenty-Two The Dune Sea, Tatooine 14 ATC The Republic troops fanned out to surround the Sith, the four Jedi advancing in a lopsided triangle formation. Nox cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders, calling up her vast reserves of energy. This was going to take some firepower. “Do you suppose,” Ravage murmured as the enemy drew closer, “They’ll ask us to surrender?” Nox shrugged. “Probably.” She looked at the lead Jedi. “Is this the part where you ask us to surrender?” she called. “I won’t waste my breath,” the Jedi declared in an Imperial accented voice that sounded oddly familiar. “My, my, a Jedi with fire,” Nox said. “How refreshing—and unusual. Are you sure you’re on the right side?” The Jedi pulled back her hood. She was a Sith Pureblood, with black hair tied loosely back and bright golden eyes set in a very familiar copper-skinned face. Add a scar across her right eye and change the color of her hair to rust red, and Nox would have been looking at Darth A’tro. If she hadn’t dug up the classified reports from Telos, she might have even been taken aback. “I know my allegiance better than you, I suspect,” said K’saria Dhakar. “And I know better than to ask either of you to surrender. You’re both too deep in the darkness to be redeemed now.” Nox laid a hand over her bosom. “Such flattery. I’m almost overcome.” “I remember you,” Ravage said, sounding almost eager. “And I remember you, Darth Ravage,” K’saria said grimly. “I will bring you to justice for the murder of Setia Aru.” “Ah, so that was her name,” Ravage mused. “She wasn’t doing much talking while I crushed her neck. Most Sith will use the Force, you know, but I prefer to do these things by hand. So much more personal.” Nox was impressed in spite of herself. “Am I supposed to be surprised that you’re a sick monster?” K’saria demanded. “And when that was finished,” Ravage continued blithely, ignoring her, “Elaedrin Myn fell to her knees and begged me to show her the power of the dark side. Only you escaped that day. I will rectify that presently.” “Not if I kill her first,” Nox taunted. Ravage glanced over at her and smiled. “We’ll see.” “Enough theatrics!” K’saria shouted. “All attack!” And then everyone rushed them at once. Nox didn’t bother looking at Ravage, or Necrosion, nor did she even bother to remove her lightsaber from its clip at her side. Instead, she lifted her hands and reached inside herself to the cold, hollow darkness waiting there. She let herself fall through that hollow into the immeasurable shadow that waited between the stars, grasped at it, and made it hers. The air around her screamed and surged with a sudden charge, and white-violet lightning ripped its way into existence, arcing outward from her fingertips, from the empty air, born of the sunless glacier that rested in the place where most beings had a heart. Nox was not most beings. Some of the Republic soldiers screamed as electricity burned its way through armor and flesh and nerves. Others perished before they could even take a breath, the sand fusing with their corpses as it turned to glass around them. One Jedi tried to block the energy with his lightsaber and keep advancing, but the storm was everywhere, it was all around him, and in the end he too was overwhelmed and fell silently with the rest. In the eye of the storm, time had no meaning. When Nox finally stopped the barrage she had no idea how long it had been. She only knew that everyone in her immediate field of vision was dead. She took a quick look around. There were far fewer Republic troops left standing than there had been at the start, and those left appeared to be attempting to regroup behind K’saria and another Jedi. Ravage must have gotten the third one. Speaking of Ravage, where did he go? Nox wondered. “We have a problem,” Ravage’s voice said from behind her. Nox whirled, preparing more lightning in case he was about to try something. She was greeted by the sight of Ravage standing up and brushing sand off his knees. Necrosion lay facedown at his feet, unmoving. “What did you do?” Nox accused. “Nothing,” Ravage sighed. “Sniper got him.” “Well, that’s damned inconvenient, isn’t it?” “You’re the one with range. You should have taken the snipers out first.” Nox put her hands on her hips. “Don’t blame this on me, you twit. This wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you had just let me talk to you in a secure location.” “I was well within my rights to be suspicious of you,” Ravage said coolly. “And there’s nothing to be done about it now. Shall we kill the rest of them and be on our way?” “Why, Ravage,” Nox demurred, “I daresay that’s the best idea you’ve had this entire time.” She backed up out of his lightsaber range before turning to face the enemy. The surviving soldiers were making a break for their vehicles, while the two Jedi were charging towards the Sith. How heroic, Nox thought, and delved into the darkness again. K’saria leaped for her, lightsaber raised. Nox sent a bolt of lightning crackling her way. She caught it on her blade and crashed to the ground, rolling with the impact until she was back on her feet, her lightsaber leveled at her side in what Nox was fairly certain was a Makashi opening stance. Lightsaber combat, with its many nuances, was not her strong suit. Lightning, however, was. The dark side answered her call as it always did, materializing in the form of blindingly bright bolts that streamed forth from her hands to crash against the barrier of K’saria’s blue blade. To the Jedi’s credit, she kept advancing, pushing forward against the current one step at a time. Admirable as it was, such behavior was unacceptable. Nox ramped up the power, stray bolts lancing out around her to fizzle away in the sky or glass small patches of sand. K’saria staggered under the assault, unable to keep moving forward. Nox continued to draw increasing amounts of power—more, more, more!—tapping into the reserves given by her bound ghosts. A lesser Sith would have been reduced to a burned-out husk by the strength of the energy flowing through her. She sensed her eyes start to glow violet as she forced K’saria to her knees under the weight of her barrage. Seeing as her target wasn’t going anywhere, Nox took a look over to see what Ravage was up to. His Jedi attacker was on the ground, decapitated, and he had a hand stretched out towards the fleeing Republic assault craft. She felt the Force warp violently, and a moment later the vehicle exploded. “Hey!” Nox exclaimed indignantly. “You do have range, you lying bastard! You can’t blame the snipers on me now!” Ravage turned to face her. “You are primarily a ranged attacker, which makes it your job to deal with other ranged attackers. And I wouldn’t kill that Jedi if I were you.” Nox took a quick look at K’saria. She still had a grip on her lightsaber, though her veneer of Jedi calm was starting to fray. “Why not?” “I’m sure you read those classified reports. This is the Wrath’s sister.” Ravage walked up next to Nox. “You shouldn’t deny the Wrath the satisfaction of killing her herself.” Nox curled her lip. “It’s nauseating, the way you suck up to her.” “I respect the Wrath, and so should you.” “I respect her plenty. You just seem like you’re ingratiating yourself in the hopes of, how should I put this…” Nox raised an eyebrow. “Tasting the Emperor’s favor.” Ravage shook his head. “You have a twisted mind. And this is not up for debate.” Nox thought it over for a moment, then let her lightning fade away. K’saria collapsed forward onto her elbows, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’ll be sure to tell your sister you said hello,” Nox said pleasantly. “This…isn’t over,” K’saria panted. “Of course not, dear. Now run along before I change my mind.” K’saria proved herself to be not entirely lacking in sense as she scrambled to her feet and staggered off. At least one of the Republic vehicles looked to still be intact. She’d live to fight another day. Nox turned to Ravage. “There. Now the Wrath can indulge in all the future fratricide she wants.” “You saw reason. Amazing.” “Let me guess: killing siblings is another one of those weird Sith cultural things I missed out on growing up?” Ravage shrugged. “Something like that. Shall we go?” Nox followed him towards the speeder they had arrived in. “So, how many family members have you killed?” Ravage didn’t turn around. “Why would you ask that?” “I just get the impression there’s a number, that’s all.” Nox climbed into the driver’s seat of the speeder and started it up. Ravage settled himself next to her. “And what if there is? Will it lead you to make wild assumptions about my character?” “Believe me, I think I know everything about your character that I need to.” Nox started to turn the speeder, then stopped. “Do you think we should do something about all the bodies?” “Why bother? The desert will take care of it soon enough.” “Fair point.” Nox put the speeder through a sharp turn and started back towards Mos Ila.

And she enjoys every second of it. I'm flattered! Updates should now return to the usual "once every couple of days" schedule. KotFE distracted me for a while but I think I'm able to focus on this again. Also, while the new plot is certainly interesting, I will not be incorporating any of it here. The entirety of this story is already planned out, so I'm going to stick with that plan. Twenty-One The Dune Sea, Tatooine 14 ATC Getting out of Mos Ila without being spotted had proven far easier than Nox had expected. The hangar in which she’d landed the Fata Morgana had an exit leading directly out into the desert that was not a part of the standard Imperial spaceport blueprints. It was probably there for use by smugglers, but that was not Nox’s problem. She’d acquired a two-person speeder that had been sitting fueled and ready near the exit—probably also for use by smugglers—had a brief argument with Ravage over who would drive, and then taken the two of them out across the sand towards the coordinates she had been provided. “This is a trap, you know,” Ravage said for the fifth time. “I know,” Nox replied, not taking her eyes off the horizon. The twin suns were at their apex, turning the Dune Sea into an expanse of glittering diamonds. “I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Ravage muttered. “I’m sure you can’t.” Nox frowned; was that dark speck their destination? She peered at it, ignoring Ravage’s grumbling, and continued forward. As they approached, the speck resolved into a humanoid figure standing near a small sandstone structure that had initially blended in with the rest of the landscape. “Looks like we’re about to meet our mysterious contact,” Nox said. “Your contact. I’m only here to watch in case you die.” “You’re so sweet,” she murmured absently, stopping the speeder about a hundred meters back and hopping out. Ravage moved up beside her, his disgruntled demeanor replaced by wariness. “I don’t like this,” he said softly. Nox eyed the figure, which had made no move to approach them. From this distance, they appeared to be dressed in black Sith robes. “I don’t like it either. But we’ve come this far.” She set off confidently, her boots crunching in the sand. Ravage muttered something she didn’t catch and followed a few steps to her right, just out of lightsaber range. A moment later, and Nox could see clearly that the figure was indeed wearing Sith armor, their face concealed by a hooded cloak. As she and Ravage drew nearer, the stranger removed their hood, revealing a human male who looked to be somewhere in his mid-twenties, with short dark hair and the yellow eyes of one who had tapped into the dark side. “Darth Nox,” he said, bowing deeply. “I’m glad you chose to heed my message.” He turned slightly and bowed again. “Darth Ravage. Not who I would have expected, but…I’m honored.” “I’m sure you are,” Ravage said in a tone that could have meant anything. “Well, you obviously know who we are,” Nox said. “How about returning the favor?” “Of course,” the Sith said. He sounded nervous. “I won’t ask you to come inside—I’m sure you suspect an ambush. I know this must all seem very suspicious, but it was the only way.” Ravage crossed his arms in a manner that conveniently let his right hand drift close to his lightsaber. “So far you’ve done nothing but waste my time.” Nox glided a few steps closer, putting on her most pleasant smile. “Ignore him. I’m the one you wanted to speak with. Take as much time as you need.” The Sith’s eyes flickered between his two visitors several times. “I’m Lord Necrosion,” he said. “I’ve been in hiding here since the death of my father, Darth Baras.” Of all the things Nox had been expecting, that revelation had not been among them. She raised an eyebrow. “You’re Baras’ son. Really.” “I hate to say it,” Ravage said grudgingly, “But I believe him. The resemblance is unmistakable.” Nox looked at him askance. “Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “I knew Baras very well. He didn’t start the whole ‘masked and mysterious’ routine until later in his life.” “Well, in that case,” Nox murmured, “It’s a good thing I didn’t bring the Wrath, isn’t it?” Ravage turned back to Necrosion. “So. Baras’ megalomania finally did him in, and you’ve been cowering here in the sand like a womp rat ever since. Are we supposed to be impressed?” Necrosion squared his shoulders. “I fled the Empire because the information I hold is more important than honor or dignity. Mock me as you like, my lord. I ask only that you hear me out.” Nox cut in quickly before Ravage could start on about how honor was a lie. “Baras has been dead for two years. Why now, and why me?” “I had to wait until the time was right,” Necrosion said. “Of all the Dark Council, you seem the most open to information that goes against the Imperial status quo.” “I’m flattered,” Nox murmured. Ravage made a small sound that might have been a snicker. “You see, my lord,” Necrosion continued, “I know why my father—why Darth Baras—really died.” “And here I thought it was because he committed high treason,” Ravage said dryly. “He was set up,” Necrosion insisted. “The Emperor had his Wrath execute Baras to silence him.” “Hold on a minute,” Nox interjected. “This was all a bit before my time, but I thought Baras went around telling everyone he was the Voice of the Emperor.” “No one on the Council actually believed any of that nonsense,” Ravage said derisively. “A few supported him because it was convenient to their own interests, and he blackmailed a few others. It wasn’t enough, in the end.” “What about you?” Nox asked curiously. Ravage shrugged. “I went along with it for a while. When it became clear that the competent Sith I knew had been replaced by a paranoid lunatic, I ended my support. If the Wrath hadn’t come along, we would have removed him sooner or later.” “‘We’? Are you telling me the Council actually agreed on something?” “It’s been known to happen.” Nox eyed him. “Marr browbeat you all into submission, didn’t he?” “As if I would ever let—” Necrosion cleared his throat. “Ah, yes,” Nox said quickly. “You were saying? Something about a grand conspiracy?” “Baras was a master of information,” Necrosion said. “He had spies all across the galaxy. He was even able to learn some of the Emperor’s secrets, secrets the Emperor does not wish for anyone to know.” “I assume, then, that you asked me to meet you because you have those secrets now?” Nox inquired. Necrosion nodded. “I do, my lord.” “Why hasn’t the Emperor had you killed, then?” Ravage demanded. “I’m sure his assassins will find me sooner or later,” Necrosion said grimly. “As long as this knowledge is passed on to the right people, my death will not be in vain.” Ravage shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Baras would never entrust sensitive information to a pathetic weakling like you.” Necrosion drew himself up. “I may not be as strong in the Force as some, but I’m still capable of doing what needs to be done!” “I’m sure you tell yourself that so you can sleep at night.” Ravage gave him a contemptuous look. “Baras and I were allies for a long time, and he never so much as breathed a word about you. How disappointed he must have been.” “I did everything he ever asked of me!” Necrosion said hotly. “And it was never enough, was it? No, you were so utterly insufficient that even now, you’re still trying to prove yourself to his memory.” Ravage sneered. “Pathetic.” Nox sighed. “Ravage, if you could be a dear and refrain from insulting my contact until after he’s given me the intel, that would be lovely.” “It’s not an insult if it’s true,” Ravage said, his eyes fixed on Necrosion. “You should thank the Wrath. Now no one has to know you didn’t have the guts to kill your father yourself.” Nox rolled her eyes. “May we return to the point of this conversation, please?” Ravage half-smiled. “By all means. I think I’ve made my point.” “This is not about me,” Necrosion said. His voice was calm, but his clenched jaw suggested otherwise. “The Emperor is planning something, and it is not in the Empire’s best interests.” “I do hope you didn’t bring me all the way out here to tell me something that vague,” Nox said. “No, that’s just the beginning. Baras learned the truth. He—” Necrosion stopped short, looking at a point somewhere behind Nox. She turned. Three vehicles had crested the nearest dune and were rapidly bearing down on them. “Well, this just got interesting,” she remarked. “Republic assault craft,” Ravage said. “All the way out here, that can’t be a coincidence.” “Two Dark Council members in one place is far too good an opportunity to waste.” Nox pursed her lips. “This is your fault, by the way.” “My fault?” Ravage repeated incredulously. “How is this my fault?” “You made me tell you about this in an open hallway where anyone could have eavesdropped,” Nox sighed. “This is what you get for not listening to me.” “They’ll be on us in moments!” Necrosion exclaimed. “Good,” Ravage retorted. “I could use a diversion right about now.” “Let me guess,” Nox drawled. “You’re going to pretend they’re all me, aren’t you?” The three Republic vehicles pulled up a short distance away. Troops in armor painted to blend in with the sand started pouring out. “Every last one,” Ravage said, and drew his lightsaber. “Ooh, look there,” Nox said as a brown-cloaked figure dropped out of one vehicle and activated a shining blue blade. “This will be fun.” “Just one Jedi?” Ravage frowned. “That’s no fun at all.” Three more robed figures joined the first. Ravage’s frown vanished. “I take it back.”

Soon. Twenty Fury-class starship Fata Morgana 14 ATC It occurred to Nox that she had left the holocommunicator with Intelligence for analysis and then never gone and picked it up. Well, it was too late for that now; she had already taken her ship out of Dromund Kaas’ gravity well and made the jump to hyperspace towards Tatooine. It had taken considerable wheedling and cajoling to convince Ravage that making the trip on her ship would be the least conspicuous option, and when he’d finally agreed, she hadn’t wanted to waste any time in case he changed his mind. That, and persuading him to go along with the whole thing in the first place, had required so much effort that it was little wonder she’d forgotten about Intelligence. A small part of her was worried. She hadn’t had time to sneak into the Intelligence archives and delete the evidence. She could only hope that Seeker would not think to look. That matter would have to wait until she returned. With the Fata Morgana in hyperspace, there was nothing more for her to do on the bridge. She made her way out into the ship’s main area to check on her guest. Ravage had settled himself in the middle of the floor near the holoterminal, kneeling in a meditative posture. His eyes were closed, though Nox suspected that only made him more aware of where she was and what she was doing. The Force was more discerning than any physical sense. She strolled over and draped herself in the nearest chair. Dromund Kaas to Tatooine was not a short trip, and if he thought he could go the entire time without having to talk to her, he was very much mistaken. “Ravage,” she said, trying not to sound too delighted at the prospect of having him at her conversational mercy. He didn’t open his eyes, but the frown lines etched across his face immediately deepened. “What.” “I’m curious,” Nox said contemplatively. “Wonderful,” Ravage sighed. “No, really, I am. Why Ravage? I don’t see many Sith out there who just append Basic words to their Darth title.” Another sigh, much more irritated than the last. “I didn’t pick it.” “Well, I didn’t pick my name either, but fortunately Marr seems to have good taste.” There was more to it than that, of course; she had felt Marr reach out into the Force, asking, and the dark side had given him an answer. Darth Nox was more than just a name. It was who she was. “So,” she said after a moment, “Why Ravage?” He opened his eyes and glared at her. “Why do you think?” “Well,” Nox said thoughtfully, “It seems to me that someone wanted you to be feared, to be seen as someone with a great capacity for destruction—which you are, so good on them. It’s just so terribly unsubtle.” “Yes,” Ravage remarked blandly. “It is.” “I can’t help but think that had to be deliberate.” “It was.” Nox raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?” “No.” “A very final answer. I see.” Ravage continued to glare in her direction. “Is there a point to this, or are you simply trying to annoy me?” “It’s a long flight. I’m trying to keep myself entertained.” “And your idea of entertainment is pestering me. Somehow, I’m not surprised.” “Would you rather sit there and brood the entire time?” Ravage snickered. “I don’t brood, Nox.” “What were you doing when I came over here, then?” “I was meditating. Scanning for threats.” “Looked an awful lot like brooding to me,” Nox said dubiously. Ravage smiled faintly. “Brooding is for young men who don’t have the strength to do what’s necessary. I lost my capacity for self-pity long ago.” “I see,” Nox said, although she wasn’t sure she did. “Is this leading into a discussion of body count?” “Hardly. It’s about quality over quantity. Even you must realize that.” “I realize a great deal more than you know.” “Yes, that reminds me,” Ravage mused. “Since it seems we have nothing to do but ask each other unwanted personal questions, perhaps I ought to address the veil of mystery surrounding you.” “I’m not sure I’d consider asking about your name a personal question, unwanted or otherwise.” He ignored her. “At first glance, you appear to be simply yet another example of clawing your way from humble origins to the top of the pecking order. A slave who became Sith who became a very important Sith.” “That’s me,” Nox said cheerfully. “Making up for my misspent youth, one Council meeting at a time.” “I don’t believe you.” Nox gave him a puzzled look. “What is there to disbelieve? My history is all very well-documented.” “Don’t insult my intelligence,” Ravage said scornfully. “My history is well-documented. I’ve spent my entire life in the public eye. You, on the other hand, emerged seemingly from nowhere. There is no record of your existence prior to eight years ago, when you were supposedly first brought to the Empire.” Nox maintained her polite expression even as a chill ran through her. She had been so worried about Seeker figuring things out, it had never even occurred to her that other Sith might have made more than cursory inquiries. She had to maintain her cool. “You actually went to that much trouble to learn about me?” She fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m flattered.” “Don’t think it makes you special. I keep tabs on all the Council. It does make me curious, though.” “That’s nice.” “If you’re trying to distract me from making my point, you’re doing a very poor job.” “Distract you? Why would I be trying to distract you? I’m very intrigued to hear what wild theories you’ve cooked up.” That wasn’t even a lie. Ravage shook his head. “You’ve clearly been very well-educated, although no one apparently bothered to teach you proper military strategy—” “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” “—and you know your way around Imperial politics far better than most. Your ability to talk almost anyone into almost anything suggests considerable training in rhetoric and psychology, as well.” “I read a lot,” Nox demurred. “That’s a miserable excuse, and you know it.” “How is that miserable? I really do read a lot!” “Two years of reading is not nearly enough to give someone the skills I know you possess.” “Why, Ravage,” Nox said slyly, “I believe you just gave me a compliment.” “I am perfectly capable of acknowledging the strengths of someone I personally dislike,” he retorted. “It is not a reflection of my opinion of them in any way.” “And here I thought I was starting to grow on you.” “There is a line between ‘liking’ and ‘tolerable for business purposes,’ and you are so far away from it I can’t even see you.” “You can’t see me? Perhaps you need to get your cybernetics recalibrated.” “That’s not what they do. Also, they’re specially made to be resistant to electrical discharges.” Ravage eyed her meaningfully. “For your future reference.” “Of course they are. I wouldn’t expect even you to be that stupid.” Nox silently rejoiced; she appeared to have successfully distracted him. “Why, Nox, I believe you just gave me a compliment.” She laughed. “I only said you were somewhere above the lowest possible bar of stupidity. If you want to take that as a compliment, go right ahead.” Ravage glared at her and said nothing. “You know,” Nox said after thinking for a moment, “There is something I’ve been wondering about.” “Is it time for the personal questions again? Wonderful.” “You see, there’s a Sith who works for me, Siada Ilaes, who’s told me some very interesting things about you.” Ravage’s mouth twisted as if he’d just tasted something unpleasant. “Siada is a lying, grasping, twisted excuse for a being with more ambition than half the Sith on Dromund Kaas and neither the power nor the brains to back it up. If you voluntarily spent more than a few seconds in her presence, you must be a masochist. I applaud your fortitude and patience.” He never does mince words, does he? “My, my,” Nox said. “I detect the presence of some resentment.” “I’m sure you do,” Ravage said darkly. “And I’m sure you’re just dying to regale me with all the sordid notions she put into your head, so get on with it.” “Actually, I’m more interested in why, if you hate Siada so much, you took her son as one of your apprentices.” Ravage’s expression turned grim. “Ah. It’s this discussion.” “It seems very noble of you to put aside your personal feelings and give the young man the opportunity.” “I made him work for it.” “Of course you did,” Nox murmured. “I’ve seen Tevreth around the Citadel. He has such an air of determination.” She let her smile turn sultry. “I admire that in a man.” Ravage waved a hand. “If you’re hinting at what I think you’re hinting at, by all means, don’t let me stop you. It would probably do him some good.” Nox arched an eyebrow with calculated skepticism. “It won’t bother you if I sleep with your son?” Ravage twitched almost imperceptibly. “Why should it?” “Aren’t I the enemy?” “Tevreth is smart enough not to be too taken in by your wiles. And he could use some motivation.” Ravage frowned in disappointment. “He’s twenty-five. I was already a Lord at that age. I suspect he’s a lost cause.” Nox contemplated not saying the next thought that came into her mind, then went ahead anyway. “If this is what your relationship with your father was like, that explains a great deal about your disposition.” To her surprise, Ravage was silent for a long moment. “Sith and families are not a good combination, despite all our emphasis on pure blood,” he said finally. “That’s news to absolutely no one.” “You’re not from a Sith family. You wouldn’t get it.” “I mean, I technically am, being descended from Aloysius Kallig and all,” Nox pointed out. “Are you really? I always thought you made that up to give yourself legitimacy.” “I did not! I have Kallig’s own lightsaber right here.” She patted the double-bladed hilt where it rested on her belt. “You could have stolen that.” “Doubtful,” Nox said wryly, remembering the trouble she’d gone to in order to retrieve the lightsaber. “But if you still don’t believe me, when we get back to Dromund Kaas, we can take a trip to the Dark Temple and I’ll introduce you to dear Aloysius. He’s very chatty for a Force ghost.” “So there are Force ghosts out in the jungle,” Ravage said, clearly intrigued. “Well…there aren’t as many as there used to be. But yes.” Nox checked the box in the back of her mind where she kept her spectral power sources. They were all still there, still very unhappy, and still inexorably bound to her forever. Delightful. “I remember your little display when you fought Thanaton,” Ravage said. “Those were actual ghosts?” “Oh, yes. Not all of them from Dromund Kaas—I went on a bit of a collecting spree.” There was no point in being deceptive. Forcewalking was such a rare and obscure ability that it didn’t matter what she told him, anyway. “So if I were to stab you right now, would you die?” Ravage asked curiously. Nox frowned. “If I said no, would you do it?” “Not when you were expecting it, no.” “How very dishonorable.” “I’ve never made any pretense of being otherwise.” “Right, you’re Darth ‘Murder has no rules.’ How silly of me to forget.” Ravage sighed heavily. “I just had this argument with Mortis last week. Do we have to go over it again?” “No, not at all,” Nox assured him. “I’ve heard all your points many times.” In fact, she tended to agree, but she’d never admit that to his face. “Good.” “So, what did you think of Rictus’ latest proposal?” Council gossip would be a safe topic for the next few hours. “Fifteen years on the Council, and that was one of the most absurd things I’ve ever heard. Does he really think that…” Nox settled herself into her chair and decided to time how long it would take, uninterrupted, for Ravage to stop ranting.

Thank you all for your kind words, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. As for the predictions as to who Nox is planning on bringing to Tatooine...well, let's just say I wasn't exactly trying to be subtle. Nineteen The Citadel, Dromund Kaas 14 ATC After some deliberation, Nox decided to take the direct approach. Sneaking around might give the wrong impression. So she made her way to a particular corner of the Citadel where she had never expected to go—at least, not in broad daylight without the intent to kill. She was nearly to her destination when she heard voices coming from around the nearest corner. Instinct took over, and she flattened herself against the wall, hiding her presence in the Force, before taking a quick look. Darth Ravage was walking down the corridor, accompanied by a human woman in the red uniform of the Imperial Diplomatic Service. Nox didn’t recognize her, but that wasn’t surprising. She had never had much to do with that particular organization. “I don’t care what you have to do,” Ravage was saying. “Make the governor agree, and make it happen soon. We need that system intact.” “Of course. I won’t fail you, my lord.” “You haven’t yet, which is more than can be said for your superior. That will be all.” A moment later, the diplomat rounded the corner. She saw Nox and bowed silently, then continued down the corridor at a markedly faster pace. Nox chuckled inwardly, then made her way around the corner herself. Ravage was walking away with his back to her. She crept up behind him, then unmasked her Force presence. “Diplomacy problems?” she asked lightly. Ravage turned around and drew his lightsaber so quickly she barely saw him move. “Ah,” Nox said, staring down the length of the scarlet blade that had suddenly appeared at her eye level. “This is awkward.” “Six more inches and I burn a hole straight through that empty head of yours,” Ravage said coolly. “I find myself very tempted.” “If you were really going to do it, you would have already,” Nox pointed out. Probably. “So how about we move past the posturing and have a nice, civil chat?” Ravage didn’t move. “You’ll understand if I’m reluctant to trust your motives.” “Of course. But if I were trying to get you to lower your guard so I could kill you, I promise I wouldn’t be this obvious about it.” Nox smiled. Ravage’s pale blue eyes narrowed. Nox kept smiling. Enough time passed that she started to wonder if she had miscalculated. Then Ravage slowly lowered his lightsaber to his side, the blade dwindling away with a sharp hiss. “All right,” he said reluctantly. “Talk.” Nox gestured to the lightsaber hilt still in his hand. “Are you going to put that away, or…?” “I’m staying ready in case I change my mind about killing you.” “Oh, please,” Nox scoffed. “As if it would be that easy. Haven’t you heard about what happened when Thanaton killed me that one time?” That might have been stretching the truth a little, but Ravage didn’t need to know that. Besides, she did have a rather impressive regiment of ghosts at her disposal. Anything was possible. “Thanaton was a delusional, self-important fool stuck so firmly in the past it’s remarkable he was able to stop fawning over the ancients long enough to make it onto the Council in the first place,” Ravage said scathingly. “I’m sure he would have fallen for any number of your tricks.” “And you won’t?” “Unlike most people, I am well-versed in the repertoire of Sith witches.” One corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “The key is to get in close.” Nox clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “We’re getting off topic.” “Ah, yes. You were going to explain what you’re doing here.” Ravage shook his head. “This will be good.” Nox pointedly looked around the hallway. “This is a rather public location.” “Yes, it is.” She sighed. “The information I wanted to discuss is of a sensitive nature.” “How convenient.” “How is that convenient?” “It gives you an excuse to lure me somewhere secluded so you can try to murder me.” “A minute ago, you seemed rather confident in your ability to take me on.” Ravage shrugged. “I only said you would try.” “Would it be better if you thought of it as somewhere secluded where you could murder me? Not that I’d let you, but if it puts your mind at ease…” “You’ll talk here, or not at all.” Nox put her hands on her hips. “I don’t think I care for your tone.” “I don’t care for anything about you, Nox, yet here I am. Listening. Not even trying to put you out of my misery.” Ravage chuckled to himself. “And to think, Marr calls me unreasonable.” “It’s not as if I’m suggesting we go to some hidden cave out in the jungle,” Nox grumbled. “Your chambers are right down the hall.” Ravage only looked at her. “Fine, fine,” Nox sighed. “Someone sent me an anonymous message asking me to meet with them on Tatooine so they can give me information vital to the fate of the Empire, but I have to bring someone with me to verify that I’m not lying about the information when I presumably share it with the Council.” That sounded less dubious in my head. Ravage looked as though he were trying very hard not to laugh. “I have to admit,” he said with clear amusement, “Of all the absurdities I’ve come to expect from you, this is really something else. You expect me to believe any of that?” “Not really, no. But it’s the truth.” “I’m sure.” Ravage finally put his lightsaber back on his belt and crossed his arms. “So. Let me get this straight.” Nox tried to look innocent. It was difficult. “If any of this is actually true, and if I were to believe even a fraction of it…” Calm, confident smugness crept across his face, lighting up his eyes and culminating in a grim, but very satisfied smirk. “It seems that you, Darth Nox, are asking for my help.” “I wouldn’t put it that way,” she pouted. Inwardly, she exulted. He had taken the bait. “Oh, but I would,” Ravage murmured. “How desperate you must be that you would approach me, of all people. This must be more important than you’re letting on.” Nox decided to match his smirk with one of her own. “Does this mean you’re agreeing?” “I haven’t agreed to anything yet. We have to discuss terms.” She had expected as much. “What terms might those be?” “Let’s just say that you will owe me, and at some point in the future, I will collect. I prefer to keep my options open.” “Done,” Nox said immediately. Whatever he decided he wanted, she could probably talk her way out of it if it compromised her power in any way. Ravage’s smug smirk faded to a pleased smile. “Excellent.” “You’ll come with me to Tatooine, then,” she said. She wasn’t worried about him backing out of the deal; Ravage kept his word when it suited him, and this time, it definitely suited him. “That seems a more than fair price to pay.” Nox was finding Ravage in a good mood to be more and more unsettling with each passing moment. “We should discuss logistics, then. Two members of the Dark Council traveling together will be highly suspicious…”

Introducing Thaera was a tricky affair. There is rocking on to come, though. For a given value of "rocking on." Honestly, I've tried to place Nox on an alignment scale many times and it just doesn't work. Hopefully your question will be better answered as we learn more about Nox's history and motivations. 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.

And if they're not complicated, she'll make them complicated. We shall see what transpires. Seventeen Sith Intelligence Headquarters, Dromund Kaas 14 ATC The primary operations center appeared at first glance to be the same machine of intense, efficient activity that it had always been. People in uniform—black, rather than the standard gray—typed away at consoles, or watched monitors, or walked about with datapads, occasionally stopping to confer with one another. The soft hum of conversation mixed with the steady whirring of fans keeping the massive banks of computers cool and the deep rumbling of the environmental control systems counteracting Dromund Kaas’ oppressive humidity. It was all very neat and precise, a model of Imperial efficiency and the heart of Imperial control. The activity continued as it always had. The difference was the people. There were far fewer than there had been three years ago. The sounds of voices giving reports or comparing data were all but drowned out by the mechanical noises. And those talking were quieter, more focused on hunching over their consoles, trying to seem as unobtrusive as they possibly could. The atmosphere was so subdued that the Chiss woman standing at the head of the room stood out like a lone tree on a flooded plain with her straight, confident posture. She was just under six feet tall, with powder blue skin and the softly glowing red eyes characteristic of her species. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into an elegant bun. Her face was highly symmetrical and would have been considered aesthetically pleasing by many species were it not for a certain unnerving quality to her features, like those of a doll. Her black uniform bore no insignia, no indication of rank. She didn’t need any. She was the leader of Sith Intelligence, the Minister in fact if not in name, since the position had been officially dissolved along with the organization. To most, she was known by her codename, Seeker, though a few Intelligence personnel remembered her as Cipher Nine. She had another title, too: the Hand of Darth Jadus. It was a useful title, particularly when it came to dealing with the Sith. The evocation of Jadus’ name was a reminder of his authority. Even absent, that authority was considerable, made weighty by justified fear. It had kept the Sith from intruding on her operations for two years, now, during which time she had done her best to rebuild Intelligence. That time had come to an end. Darth Nox’s unconventional origins meant that there was almost no data on her. What little had been collected over the past two years gave no indication as to why she would suddenly show an interest in taking leadership of Intelligence. Clearly, she was not afraid of Jadus, so she was either overly confident, overly ambitious, or both. The Chiss woman suppressed a sigh. She could only hope that Nox would not be too overbearing; Sith attempts at micromanagement had ruined more operations than she could count. She had been trained as a covert operative, not a leader of people, and she had never wanted anywhere near the level of responsibility she currently held. But even though Intelligence had used her, betrayed her, and dumped their smoking ruins into her lap, she would never have dreamed of cutting loose. However she felt about it, this was her duty, and she would do it to the best of her abilities. They called her Seeker, called her Hand of Jadus, but in her own mind, she wasn’t any of those things. In her own mind, she was still an individual with her own core name: Thaera. Even after years of spy work, she still hadn’t lost herself. That meant something. If she hadn’t been standing facing the door, she would never have noticed Darth Nox walk in. She cut a distinctive figure in her white dress, but she didn’t possess the same aura of mental weight that followed some of the more powerful Sith. She stood on her own, with no Force tricks to bend the wills of those around her. Nox paused near the entrance, looking around the room. Her eyes fell on Thaera, and she started towards her. As she moved across the room, everyone finally took notice of her, and silence fell. “So, you’re the one they call Seeker,” Nox said as soon as she was close enough to address her without speaking overly loudly. “An interesting title.” Thaera gave a polite bow. “I prefer to take an active role in operations, my lord. The designation seemed fitting.” “So it is. I’ve kept my eye on this place for some time, now. You’ve done very well given what little you have to work with.” Nox was the image of politeness. Thaera wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Thank you, my lord,” she said cautiously. “I’ve done my best to ensure Intelligence serves the Empire as well as it always has.” “Indeed,” Nox murmured. Her manner abruptly turned businesslike. “Now that I’m in charge, I will give you access to as many resources as I can. Credits, personnel, materiel; whatever you need, just ask.” Thaera had not been sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. “That’s…very generous.” Nox smiled pleasantly. “I do what I can. Unlike my colleagues, I do not underestimate Intelligence’s importance to the Empire’s basic functioning, both in war and domestic matters.” Thaera was quickly starting to realize that Nox’s reputation for mysterious and eccentric behavior was not unfounded. “I am a very busy woman, Seeker,” Nox said matter-of-factly. “I have little time to oversee affairs here. As such, your current role and responsibilities will not change. You will report to me, and I may occasionally take an interest in specific operations, but for the most part you will have autonomous authority over the workings of this organization. Do you understand?” “Perfectly, my lord.” Thaera understood what Nox meant—she was essentially giving Intelligence a free pass to do whatever they saw fit, while her overall control would keep other Sith at bay. What she didn’t understand was why. The opportunity to personally command Sith Intelligence was an opportunity for immense power. Why would Nox pass that up? “There is something I would like for you to do for me now, however,” Nox said. She held out a hand, revealing that she was holding what looked like a small holocommunicator. “Someone used this to anonymously contact me. Have your people run a full analysis and see if you can determine the source.” Thaera took the device. “I will see to it immediately.” “Excellent. Now, there is one last thing I wish to make clear.” Nox stepped forward, stopping less than half a meter away, and met her gaze squarely. Unlike most humans, she seemed to have no difficulty knowing where Thaera was looking. “I leave you in command because you have proven that you are capable of doing your job well, and there is currently no one who could effectively replace you.” All traces of quiet amusement had vanished from Nox’s face as she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Do not think I am unaware of how you abetted Darth Jadus in his scheme that resulted in the deaths of countless Imperial citizens. The rest of the Dark Council may have turned a blind eye to his megalomania, but I will not. Your master may be out of my reach, but you… The moment you cease to be useful to me, I will see to it that justice is carried out, as it should have been years ago.” Thaera looked into her eyes, the same cold gray as Csilla’s perpetual winter sky, and saw death waiting there. She accepted this knowledge calmly, without fear, and said, “I understand, my lord.” Nox’s charming smile returned as quickly as it had disappeared. “Excellent. That will be all, Seeker. As you were.” She inclined her head, turned on her heel, and left. Thaera watched her leave, turning the holocommunicator over in her hand, and decided that as of that moment, collecting more data on Nox would be her highest priority.

Thank you! I do love writing the Council. The Sithiest of Sith doing their Sith thing has so much dark comedy potential. Glad you like Sixteen Korriban Orbital Station 14 ATC Nox strolled down the station corridor, heading for the docking tube where her ship waited. A’tro walked beside her, arms folded across her chest. “You’ll be in the history books for this, you know,” A’tro was saying. “No one member of the Dark Council has ever held two spheres before. Not ever.” Nox gave her a sidelong glance. “As long as the Emperor doesn’t object…” “I didn’t follow you over here to execute you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nox pretended to relax. She still kept her guard up, of course. “Just checking.” “I’d be more concerned about the rest of the Council, were I you.” “They all agreed to it. You were there.” “I was. I still find it difficult to believe.” “Regretting your decision to support me?” Nox asked lightly. A’tro shook her head. “I stand by what I said about consolidating power. I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you pulled this off.” “Our fellow Council members, while occasionally irritating to work with, are not stupid,” Nox said. “They know when something is in their best interests. And I can be quite persuasive.” A’tro mirrored her earlier sidelong glance. “You slept with each and every one of them, didn’t you?” Nox snorted. “If that was all it took to get my way around here, I would have accomplished this ages ago.” “You’ve tried, then?” “Certainly not,” Nox sneered. “Our colleagues may be powerful, but the dark side has not been kind to most of them. I’m not going to bother when I know it won’t get me anything.” “‘Most’ of them?” A’tro inquired. “Well, they say the last time Marr took off his mask, eleven people died, but that doesn’t mean he’s hideous. And there’s you, of course.” A’tro made a soft sound that might have been a snicker. “Why, Nox, I didn’t realize I was your type.” “Not in that sense, no, but I do admire the whole ‘majestic warrior goddess’ aesthetic you have going on.” “I’m flattered.” “I prefer the ‘mysterious Sith enchantress’ look, myself,” Nox continued blithely. “I find it rather effective.” “You’ve certainly acquired something of a…reputation,” A’tro said delicately. “I am well aware of my considerable sex appeal, and not using it would be a criminal waste. Speaking of which—how’s your personal life?” A’tro gave a start at the abrupt change of topic, then scowled. “Personal.” “Sounds lovely,” Nox said, unfazed. “Congratulations, by the way.” “Do I want to know what for?” “You know perfectly well what for.” Nox smiled. “Word of advice: if you want your relationship to stay a secret, don’t let official records show that you’ve gotten married. People can look at that. People like me.” A’tro looked torn between incredulity and wanting to murder Nox where she stood. “You looked at the records? Are you stalking me?” “I keep tabs on all the Council members. It’s how I keep ahead in our little political game.” “If you try anything—” A’tro started. Nox held up her hands in a placating gesture. “No need to threaten me. I know quite well what you’re capable of.” “I am not threatening you, Nox. I am warning you not to do anything with this information that you will regret.” “That’s the same thing as a threat, isn’t it? But that’s beside the point,” Nox added hastily, sensing A’tro was in no mood to debate semantics. “I promise, I won’t lay so much as a finger on your precious officer.” As much as I would like to, and not for killing, either. Lucky woman, A’tro. “See that you don’t,” A’tro said grimly, and left it at that. Nox decided a change of subject was in order. “So, who do you think killed Vowrawn?” The frown that had started to abate from A’tro’s face swiftly returned. “I’m not sure.” “The prevailing theory seems to be the Republic, but I’m not certain I buy that,” Nox said thoughtfully. “I’ve seen what the Jedi Shadows can do, but getting in and out of Dromund Kaas without anyone noticing is no easy feat. Not without inside help, anyway.” “Are you suggesting there’s a traitor in our midst?” “There are always traitors in everyone’s midst. That’s how war works.” Nox came to a halt in front of the turbolift to the docking tube. “The question is, who are they? And how highly placed?” “I’ve been deceived by a Jedi spy before,” A’tro murmured. “They hide themselves well.” “They do,” Nox agreed. “Now that Intelligence is under my control, I intend to investigate as best as I can.” “Good.” The turbolift arrived. Nox stepped into it and turned around to face A’tro. “Until next time, Wrath.” A’tro inclined her head silently. The turbolift doors closed, and the lift moved quickly upward. Nox exited a few moments later and made her way down the length of the airlock. A hulking alien figure waited in front of the hatch of her ship, bowing respectfully as she approached. “Afternoon, Khem,” Nox said cheerily. “Anyone come by?” [There were no assassins today, my mistress,] Khem Val answered. [There was a small droid, however. It left this.] He held out one massive clawed hand, revealing a holocommunicator. Nox eyed it warily. The Force held no whisper of danger, so she took it from Khem and examined it. “Looks like someone wants to talk to me.” [so it would appear.] “I don’t suppose you managed to apprehend the droid that delivered it?” [it dropped the device and escaped before I could catch it.] Khem sounded embarrassed. Nox had sudden visions of the Dashade running in circles after a mouse droid, and had to suppress a giggle. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’ll take a look at this once we’re on our way.” She boarded the ship, Khem following close behind, and had them away from the orbital station and in hyperspace heading for Dromund Kaas a few minutes later. With navigation settled and nothing to do but wait, Nox left the bridge and went into the ship’s main room. There, she took out the holocommunicator and activated it. Khem Val watched from a few meters away. A minute passed, and another, and then the holocommunicator lit up. No image appeared, but a voice spoke, so distorted by audio filters and scramblers that it sounded like a droid with a faulty vocoder. “Darth Nox,” the voice said. “I was hoping I would get your attention.” Nox maintained her usual half-smile. She couldn’t see the speaker, but they could probably see her. “Many people want my attention. What makes you any different from the rest?” “I have information.” “And here I thought you were calling to invite me to tea.” “This information is of vital importance to the fate of the Empire.” Nox pretended to yawn. “Is that all? I get messages like this every day.” “I know who killed Darth Vowrawn.” Nox was careful not to react, but she was instantly intrigued. Vowrawn’s death was far too recent for most people to know about it. This just might be real. “Do tell,” she said. “I can’t disclose the information over holo,” the voice said. “Someone could be listening in.” “What desolate but private location are you proposing for a meeting, then?” Nox drawled. “I assume that’s where you’re going with this.” “The details will be delivered to you on Dromund Kaas.” “Excellent.” Nox chuckled. “It’s like a spy holo. How very amusing.” “I implore you to take this seriously, my lord,” the voice said. “There is one more thing.” “If you’re going to tell me to wear something sexy to the meeting, this whole thing is off,” Nox warned. “I don’t—what? Never mind.” Even as modulated as it was, the voice managed to sound confused. “If you do choose to meet with me, you cannot come alone. No one will believe you if you’re the only one who knows the truth.” “Sort of like how I don’t believe you right now?” “I know this is suspicious, but I urge you to listen to me. The fate of the Empire—” “Yes, yes, I got that part.” Nox reached forward and switched the holocommunicator off. Matters had just become exceedingly more complicated.

Okay, part two begins now. About a year has passed since the events on Telos. Fifteen Dark Council Chambers, Korriban 14 ATC “We are in agreement, then,” Darth Marr said. “The leadership of the Sphere of Imperial Intelligence is hereby given to Darth Nox.” Nox, lounging in the thronelike chair to Marr’s right with calculated nonchalance, allowed her usual half-smile to develop into a full smirk. “Have you all lost your minds?” Darth Ravage demanded from across the room. “How can you tolerate this outrage—support it, even!” “I am no happier about it than you,” the holoimage of Darth Rictus said. “But these are more desperate times than any of us care to admit.” “We are not so desperate that we need to compromise our own structure just to give her more power!” Ravage glared at Nox. “Are you speaking out in defense of tradition, Ravage?” Darth Mortis asked with thinly veiled amusement. Ravage shifted the focus of his glare. “I didn’t hear you object.” “On the contrary,” Mortis murmured, “I believe this to be in all of our best interests.” “What hold does she have on you that you all agreed to this travesty? What sorcery has she used to ensnare you? We could have given that sphere to anyone. Anyone! And you fools just handed it to her!” “Calm down, Ravage,” Marr rumbled. In the Force, Nox caught a note of spiteful joy before it was quickly and ruthlessly suppressed. Ravage ignored Marr, turning instead to Nox. “I’m sure you find all of this very amusing.” She covered her mouth with one hand and giggled. “You know me so well.” “If you expect me to sit idly by and allow this—” “There is nothing to allow,” Marr interrupted. “The Council has already agreed.” “The Council?” Ravage made a show of looking around the room. “There are only five of us here, Marr, not including her. And where the hell is Vowrawn? I would expect him to be chuckling over this spectacle of fools.” “He’s plotting something, no doubt,” Mortis said. Seated beside Ravage, Darth A’tro, the Emperor’s Wrath, spoke up for the first time since the argument had started. “The war has taken its toll on our numbers. Perhaps it is wise to consolidate power among our strongest members.” “Oh, that’s a fine idea,” Ravage retorted. He didn’t usually argue with the Wrath, but it seemed he was angry enough to make an exception. “And do you know how that ends? Some fool declares himself emperor, and then everyone loses.” A’tro smiled broadly at him, showing pointed teeth. “Maybe you lose.” Ravage’s mouth tightened into a grim line, and he receded silently into his chair. Nox rather liked the Wrath. She had style, and a degree of integrity that was rare among Sith. The Empire needed more like her. They lost as many men every day to infighting as they did to the Republic. “Gentlemen,” Nox declared, winking at A’tro, “it is my honor to accept the responsibility you have seen fit to bestow upon me.” “It was your bloody idea,” Ravage grumbled. Nox ignored him. “Rest assured that under my control, Sith Intelligence will grow and flourish far beyond its former self. Our enemies will have no secrets that we cannot learn, no weaknesses we cannot exploit, no strategy we cannot anticipate. The Republic and its pitiful Strategic Information Service will be left floundering in the darkness—a darkness of the Empire’s making.” “Well,” Mortis said into the ensuing silence, “she certainly has passion.” Nox folded her hands neatly in her lap. Sometimes a little drama was necessary to get the point across. “How very eloquent,” Ravage said acidly. “Would someone care to explain to me how a former slave is supposed to run an intelligence agency without running it into the ground?” That earned him several frowns; mentioning one’s pre-Council history was considered a fairly severe breach of etiquette. Of course, if Nox had learned anything over the past two years, it was that Ravage didn’t give a damn about etiquette or anything else. “Would you prefer we attempted to continue operating with the sham of an organization we have now?” A’tro inquired. “I’ve been on the front lines. It’s a mess.” “I have also been on the front lines, and I know very well that we need Intelligence restored to its former strength,” Ravage replied. “We can do better, however, than Nox.” Nox smiled. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have killed the only other Darth who was willing to take the spot,” A’tro pointed out. Ravage shrugged. “If he was smart enough to do his job, he wouldn’t have picked a fight with me. I did us all a favor.” “The fact remains,” A’tro said. “Nox is our only option.” Under normal circumstances, every time a seat on the Dark Council opened, there would be dozens of Sith clamoring for the Council’s favor, hoping to be appointed. However, the Sphere of Intelligence had been previously held by Darth Jadus—and while he had not been seen in three years, there was no evidence that he was dead. Given Jadus’ tendency to vanish and reappear, and especially given what had happened last time, no Sith was willing to risk his ire should he return and find his position on the Council filled by someone else. No one except Nox. Ravage continued to complain. “If it’s Nox or no one, I think I’d rather—” The door to the Council chamber opened. A human woman in light Sith battle armor took a few steps inside, flanked by two Dark Honor Guards with their weapons drawn. Nox recognized her after a moment: Elaedrin Myn, a former Jedi Ravage had acquired a few months ago. Like most of his apprentices, she was in her mid-twenties and quite pretty. “My lords, I beg your pardon for this interruption,” Elaedrin said. She had kept her Republic accent, which Nox personally thought was a wise choice; most dark Jedi who tried to sound Imperial did a very poor job of it. Elaedrin tried to move farther into the chamber, but the Dark Honor Guards stopped her. “Shall we remove her, Lord Marr?” one of them asked. Marr’s mask turned toward Ravage. “I expect this to be good.” Ravage scowled. “Elaedrin, you have ten seconds to explain this before I let the Honor Guards kill you.” Elaedrin’s eyes went wide. “Darth Vowrawn is dead.” “Wonderful. Now we have to replace him, too,” Nox sighed. “Ravage,” Marr said ominously. “It wasn’t me,” Ravage snapped. “This is the first I’ve heard of this, I swear.” “And yet one of your apprentices has announced it.” “If I could claim credit for dispatching that pompous windbag, I would.” “Your lack of respect for your betters will be your undoing someday,” Marr said grimly. “I will be there to see it.” Ravage casually let one hand fall to his side where his lightsaber rested on his belt. “Why wait any longer?” Nox leaned forward eagerly. The feud between Ravage and Marr had been a mainstay of Council politics ever since she’d been there. If things were about to heat up… She did love to watch men fight. “I have no time to waste on trivial matters,” Marr said with crushing indifference. “Vowrawn was on the Council for a very long time, and he kept himself in power with great cunning and strategy. Killing him was no mean feat.” Nox watched Ravage carefully for a reaction, but her discerning eye and Force senses detected nothing at all. Intriguing and disappointing in equal measure. “The Republic,” Darth Rictus’ holo said. “One of their Jedi Shadows.” “He was killed by a lightsaber, my lord,” Elaedrin said, daring to speak up again. “So it was a Jedi or a Sith,” Nox drawled. “That doesn’t particularly narrow down the possibilities.” “If a Republic assassin managed to reach Vowrawn, then we are all at risk,” Marr said. “I suggest we end this meeting and consult our own defenses. The Council cannot afford to lose more members.” There were various nods and murmurings of agreement. Nox was suspicious. The average tenure of a Dark Council member was lower than ever these days, but most of the ones doing the dying were relatively new, not veterans like Vowrawn. She had a feeling there was more going on than a power grab or a Republic operation. And as the new leader of Sith Intelligence, who better than she to find out the truth?

Really great conversations! Especially Pierce being snarky with Quinn. I may love Quinn, but the man deserves to be snarked at sometimes. I also just giftspammed my way through all of Pierce's conversations on my second A'tro, so I'm feeling especially appreciative of his particular brand of attitude. Excellent stuff.

One of my greatest accomplishments, there. Thank you so much! Quinn is a tricky character to get a handle on. Very stubborn, very subtle. And yet I doubt I would have gotten into writing SWTOR fic at all if it weren't for him. This isn't an update, I'm afraid, but it is an announcement. The last chapter was the end of the first arc of this fic. The plot will subsequently resume a year later. I seem to have my workload under control for the time being, so I'll see about getting that up as soon as I can. I hope everyone is having a wonderful day, and thanks so much for reading!

As always, thank you for the kind words. Fourteen Imperial Base, Telos 13 ATC The door opened, and Quinn stepped into the room. The calming effects of A’tro’s meditative breathing were immediately dashed as her heart rate spiked at the sight of him. He bowed formally. “You wished to see me, my lord?” His tone was cordial, attentively obedient without seeming obsequious. He was good at that. A’tro kept her face impassive despite the sensation that some sort of cyclone was forming inside her stomach. She used the Force to lock the door; this was not the sort of conversation she wanted interrupted. “Yes, I did,” she replied. “However, I have more important matters to discuss than your thoughts on the battle.” Quinn was frustratingly hard to read, even in the Force, but as his posture stiffened in response to her words, she caught a distinct note of fear. “Relax,” A’tro told him. “This isn’t an interrogation.” Or an execution. I can’t believe I even considered that. He frowned slightly. “I must admit to some confusion.” “That’s understandable. I probably could have handled this better,” she admitted. There was no turning back, however. “I would like to revisit our conversation on Voss.” It was clear that Quinn immediately knew what she was referring to, as his face abruptly lost all traces of expression. A’tro weighed her options for a moment, then decided to plunge forward. “I made a critical error in my handling of the situation, and for that I—” The next two words were ones that she had uttered only a handful of times in her thirty years of life, and they nearly stuck in her throat. After a moment of struggle, she managed, in a voice barely above a whisper: “I apologize.” Quinn’s frown returned with a vengeance. “My lord, please, this is entirely unnecessary. I overstepped, and you responded appropriately.” “I disagree.” There was a long moment of silence. “I—” Quinn started, then stopped, his eyes going to the floor. “My lord, I have duties to attend to,” he said quietly. “You may leave once I’ve said my piece,” A’tro said. She was surprised by how calm she was. “When we talked on Voss, I was distracted by my recent experience in the Nightmare Lands. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and that led me to respond poorly to your inquiry. Were we to have that conversation again, however, I believe that I would respond in the affirmative.” Quinn’s eyes went very wide. “I’m not certain I understand.” “Ending our relationship was a mistake,” A’tro said bluntly. “Reassigning you was also a mistake. I cannot continue to deny that I have feelings for you, Quinn. What you choose to do with this information is up to you, but I felt it best to be honest.” Was that a blush creeping across his pale cheeks? “My lord,” he said—always the title, it was starting to annoy her— “You are putting me in a very uncomfortable position.” “I realize that.” “With all due respect, I’m not sure you do.” He stopped, mouth tightening. “Permission to speak freely?” A’tro wished he would loosen up a bit; it would make the whole affair less awkward. “Of course.” Quinn put his hands behind his back, falling into parade rest. “There are several factors that need to be addressed.” He became the image of clinical analysis. “First, and I believe foremost, I attempted to assassinate you. I believed that to be the reason for my reassignment, but it seems I was mistaken.” A’tro raised a brow-ridge. “A reasonable conclusion to draw. I don’t see the issue.” Quinn looked at the wall. “My lord, I tried to kill you. That constitutes a rather severe breach of trust.” A’tro shrugged. “Given that you were acting on Baras’ orders, I have always held him responsible, not you. When I killed him, my desire for revenge was sated and I put the entire affair out of my mind. Besides, you more than made up for it with your excellent performance on Corellia.” “I’m flattered.” He returned his gaze to her. “There is…something else.” A’tro nodded. “You may speak your mind, Quinn. Whatever you might say, I give you my word that I will not retaliate with violence. Or by any other means; your career has suffered enough at the hands of pettiness.” “That was not my concern, my lord,” he said, though a thread of relief spiraled through his Force presence. “I was not expecting to have this conversation. I’m uncertain of how best to say what I wish to express.” “Take your time. This is important.” “I’m well aware of that,” he murmured. “Which leads me to my next point: that you are important. You are a symbol, an example to the entire Empire, and I cannot think of a better one. I am not entirely ignorant of the workings of Sith politics, however, and I know that your status makes you a target. A romantic partner would be powerful ammunition for your enemies to use against you.” “I’ve considered that. Particularly since it’s the argument you made against becoming involved with me in the first place.” “It is a valid argument, my lord.” “Should I be reading into the fact that you’re making it rather than rejecting me outright?” A’tro inquired, hope fluttering just out of reach of cynicism’s dark clutches. Quinn was definitely blushing, now. “My feelings for you have not changed. In the greater scheme of things, however, they also don’t matter.” A’tro swallowed hard. “Quinn, if you want me, there is no power in the universe that should keep us apart.” He scowled at the floor. “I am trying to be rational.” “So am I,” she retorted. “Think about it. I’m one of the strongest Sith the Empire has seen in decades, if not centuries. You are a brilliant, gifted military commander. Together, we’d be invincible.” “Invincible on the battlefield, perhaps. Not to an assassin in the dead of night.” “What are you trying to say?” she demanded. “Should we deny ourselves out of fear of what might happen? Is that what you want?” “No,” Quinn said softly. “No, that is not what I want.” A’tro put her hands on her hips. “Then it seems to me that we should give this another try.” “It’s not that simple,” Quinn snapped, speaking with more emotion than A’tro had ever heard him use before. “You are a Sith Lord. As an Imperial citizen, I am obligated by law to obey you. I do so willingly, as I believe in the principles of the Empire, but those principles are not a solid foundation for a healthy romantic relationship.” A’tro stood silently, stunned. “I care for you a great deal,” Quinn said, his voice going brittle at the last few words. “But your obligations as a Sith led you to terminate our involvement once. It could happen again. I do not wish to live in a state of perpetual uncertainty where my emotional investment could be compromised on a whim.” He stopped speaking quite abruptly, as though suddenly regretting his words. So that’s what’s been bothering him, A’tro realized. It made sense. It made an abundant amount of sense. And she had no idea how to convince him that he didn’t have to worry about it. “I wish I had more than my word to give you that I will not repeat my previous mistake,” she said quietly. “Were we to resume our relationship, I would treat you with respect, as an equal. I don’t intend to take any of this lightly.” Quinn said nothing. “I believe in honor,” A’tro said. “In loyalty. You’ve seen my loyalty to the Empire. I would extend the same level of dedication to you. The events of the past year have taught me a valuable lesson about thinking before acting, and I promise that I will never again act without consideration where you are concerned.” I love you, she almost said, but she didn’t want to drop that mass driver of a phrase just then. It would surely be too much. The feeble words she’d already offered would have to be enough. Quinn hesitated. Then he hesitated some more. The silence stretched out like a wire, tenser and tenser. Her heart plummeted so fast she thought she could feel it burning. He cleared his throat. “I can’t say no to you.” A’tro’s heart reversed its trajectory. “Does that mean…you’re willing to try?” “Yes, though I am not certain how to proceed from here,” he admitted. “We are, after all, in the middle of a war.” “Well,” A’tro said breathlessly, “You could start by kissing me, and we’ll see how it goes from there.” He was standing across the room, which was small, but even so it seemed that A’tro only blinked and he was right there in front of her, so close she could feel his warmth. And then his hands were on either side of her face, tentatively tracing the ridges on her cheeks with gloved fingertips, and she stood on her toes to bring herself closer because she was so frustratingly short. He bent down and brushed his lips across hers, slow and hesitant, letting them reacquaint themselves, then joined them together, intent and yearning but still gentle. When they drew apart several long moments later, A’tro was smiling uncontrollably, and she didn’t particularly care. Quinn, by contrast, looked almost somber, but his face was flushed and his eyes were burning with something that was definitely not sadness. “That was— My lord—” “No,” A’tro interrupted. “No titles. We’re going to do this properly. I want you to use my name. Only privately, of course, but still.” “That will take some getting used to, but I’ll do my best.” “Good,” A’tro said firmly. “I meant what I said about treating you as an equal.” “In the interests of fairness, then, I believe perhaps you ought to call me Malavai,” Quinn murmured. A’tro grinned broadly. “Very well, Malavai.” Quinn’s blush deepened. “This is not how I expected this day to turn out.” “Me neither,” A’tro said wryly. Her smile faded slightly. “I have a feeling that making this work will require many more serious conversations, however.” “Given our present circumstances, I believe that will have to wait.” A’tro nodded. “Let’s go focus on conquering this planet, then.” Quinn smiled. It was a small smile, and a bit solemn, but A’tro could see its truth in his eyes and feel it in the Force. “That seems a prudent course of action. To start, I believe you may be interested in my analysis of the recent battle…” Out of everything I've written so far, this chapter was definitely the most difficult. It was a leap of faith and characterization, but I think in the end I managed to pull it off. And if I didn't, well, I can't exactly take it back, now can I?

Thirteen Imperial Base, Telos 13 ATC Following the Imperial victory at the Republic encampment, Quinn found himself back in the command center, looking over the data collected from the various reports on the details of the attack. The Imperial troops had performed capably at a level matching his estimates, which was not bad, but it was clear that the true credit for the decisive victory went to the Wrath. He’d watched her out there, cutting through the enemy with such grace and finesse that she made it seem effortless—and knowing her abilities as he did, it probably was. She had even managed to scare off the three Jedi; they had not attempted to engage her, instead guarding the survivors’ retreat. It was standard Imperial policy to always let a few get away and spread fear with tales of what they had seen. They’d seen plenty, and so had Quinn. The attack was something that should have already happened. His research suggested that Moff Drayle was not an incompetent commander, but it seemed that the man was becoming increasingly crippled by paranoia. It was a shame, really. Sometimes the mind is the most difficult enemy to defeat, Quinn reflected. The thought rang particularly true for himself. Watching A’tro move with the silken lightning assuredness of an apex predator, primal joy burning in her golden eyes as she dominated the battlefield like an ancient Korribani death goddess brought to spectacular life… It had reawakened things within him that he’d thought buried. Sentiments he had believed to have withered away. He knew it didn’t matter what he thought or how he felt, but it was inconvenient. This was going to keep him up at night. Quinn was so absorbed in his thoughts that it took him a moment to notice that the technicians chattering nearby had fallen silent and were looking in his direction with barely-concealed trepidation. He turned away from the console where he had been viewing the data and found himself face to face with one of the Wrath’s Imperial Guard entourage. “Captain Quinn,” the Guard said, her voice crackling through her helmet speaker. There was something familiar about her voice. Quinn started to feel uneasy. “The Emperor’s Wrath requests your presence in her office here on the base,” the Guard continued. “She wishes to hear your analysis of the recent battle.” He recognized her voice now. He’d only heard it a few times in his life, but it surely had to be… “Commander Zariel?” he asked tentatively, using the title he’d last known her to hold. Arden Zariel inclined her head slightly. “I advise you not to keep the Wrath waiting,” she warned. Quinn saluted her stiffly. “Yes, sir.” He turned off the console and walked towards the command center’s exit, leaving his mother standing silent and implacable in her faceless red armor. ***** There had always been two distinct schools of thought in Sith philosophy. The first, considered to be the more traditional approach, taught that the power of the dark side came from intense emotions, particularly rage and hatred. The second, less acknowledged but always present, taught that true strength came not from emotions, but from their absence, for while stars burn brightly for a time, in the end even they must succumb to the empty cold of space. A’tro had always subscribed to the second doctrine; an avid reader of history, she had noted that the strongest Sith always seemed to be those capable of great cunning and calculation. Naturally, she had wanted to be the strongest Sith she could possibly be, so she had forced herself to learn discipline and control. It had not been easy. She had never been able to make herself feel nothing, but she was able to keep her feelings from controlling her. Or so she’d thought. Years of ingraining the concept that emotion is weakness deep into her mind led to every instinct she had screaming at her that what she wanted to do now was wrong. It was wrong, and it was foolish, and she would surely suffer consequences if she went through with it. She ignored her instincts and focused on the small voice that whispered when was the last time you let yourself have something you wanted? What she wanted was Quinn, of course. It had been a mistake to push him away on Voss, and she had only continued to make error after error in dealing with him since. Removing him from her life only made her want him more. Denying that only made her conflicted, and the Emperor’s Wrath couldn’t afford to be conflicted. It wasn’t as if the other members of the Dark Council abstained from romantic relationships. There was, of course, the jurgoran in the room—the fact that Quinn had tried to kill her. But that had been on Baras’ orders, and given how A’tro had just clumsily broken off their relationship, she really couldn’t blame him for carrying those orders out. She would have done the same thing in his place. She had never taken the events at the transponder vessel personally. Why would she? It was how Sith lived. In all her deliberations, it was barely even a factor. Baras was dead, so the likelihood of him sending out any more assassination orders was rather slim. Quinn was a loyal man, and she was reasonably certain he wasn’t secretly working for anyone else. She would much rather be with someone who had only once tried to kill her on someone else’s orders than with a Sith, who would almost certainly make multiple attempts because it was expected and because they could. She had made up her mind, finally. She had sent Zariel to fetch Quinn under the pretense of wanting to consult with him about the recent battle. The desk in the office assigned to her was slightly too high for her to sit on and still keep her feet on the floor, so she settled for leaning against the front of it, gripping the edge so tightly she could feel the metal slowly giving under her fingers. She would be honest with him. It was all she could do, even if it went against everything she had ever been taught. If there was anything she’d learned from her experiences of the past few years, it was that the Sith, and their teachings, were not infallible. What is the point of this? the logical part of her mind demanded. You’re going to bare your soul to him, and he probably doesn’t even want anything to do with you ever again. What is this going to accomplish? A’tro closed her eyes and breathed in, held it, then exhaled slowly. She repeated the exercise until her heartbeat was steady and her mind was as clear as she could make it, given the circumstances. Closure, she told herself. If nothing else, this will give me closure. There was no reason to argue with that.

Twelve Contested Territory, Telos 13 ATC As the dropship made its way from the wreckage of the Republic encampment back towards the Imperial base, A’tro did her best not to look at Quinn where he stood on the opposite side of the cramped interior. The business with K’saria had distracted her from the miasma of doubt that he seemed to instill in her psyche every moment she was in his presence. It hadn’t always been like that. Seeing him had made her happy, once. With nothing to do until they returned to the base, she let herself remember the moment when it had all gone wrong. ***** Voss-Ka, Voss 12 ATC Late afternoon was wearing into evening, and the sun’s increasing proximity to the horizon turned the normal red and orange hues of Voss’ sky into an even more vibrant display of color. Ribbons of deep pinks and golds fanned outward in the wake of the gleaming sun, while the somber purple of night eased its way into view at the far corners of the sky. A’tro was not normally one to admire scenery, but with nothing to do but wait for the shuttle to the orbital station she was content to sit on a bench in the Imperial enclave and watch the celestial spectacle unfold. It was a welcome distraction from her increasingly grim thoughts. She had stood in the literal Dark Heart of the Nightmare Lands and borne witness to the Voice of the Emperor himself. Even chained, even fading, he had carried such immense and terrible power. Beside that power, what was she? “My lord,” said Quinn’s voice. A’tro looked up and there he was, standing close to her bench with his hands behind his back, his posture as straight as the nearby lamp post. She hadn’t taken him with her into the Nightmare Lands. She had gone alone, not trusting anyone else to be strong enough to endure the rigors of that place. It had been…strange. “What is it, Captain?” she asked quietly. Truth be told, she had feared for his safety if he had accompanied her. Quinn was strong-willed, but… “I wanted to inform you that the last shuttle of the day leaves in less than an hour,” he said. She had already known that, and he had surely known that she knew, which meant that he really wanted to talk about something else. “Sit down, Quinn,” she told him, motioning to the empty spot on the bench beside her. He hesitated, his demeanor becoming even stiffer. “I’m not certain that would be proper—” “There’s no one around.” “If—if that is what you wish, my lord.” He settled himself on the very edge of the bench, radiating discomfort. A’tro started to worry. If there was one thing Quinn possessed in abundance, it was confidence. To hear him stumble over words was strange. “You seem tense,” she said softly, careful not to let her voice travel too far beyond the bench. “Is something wrong?” He glowered off into the distance. “Not exactly. There’s just—I find myself in a difficult situation, and I’m uncertain of how to explain the matter.” “If you need time to think, I can wait.” “No. No, I don’t think it should wait.” Quinn turned to face her, some indefinable emotion flickering in his eyes. “My lord, I—” He stopped and looked around. “I’m falling in love with you,” he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’ve tried to keep this development to myself; I don’t want to make any presumptions about the nature of our relationship.” The words seemed to be tumbling out almost too fast for his mouth to keep up. “But things are changing, and I felt I shouldn’t remain silent any longer.” “You’re right,” A’tro said. Her voice, and everything around her, seemed to be far, far away. “Things are changing.” Quinn wilted visibly. “I apologize for bringing this up like this, but I felt you should know that I—” A’tro cut him off. “I’ve been thinking too, Quinn.” She took a deep breath, the darkness that had been lurking at the borders of her thoughts swirling and crashing into the forefront. “Given my new responsibilities, I believe it would be best if we terminate this relationship before it goes too far. I have enjoyed our time together, but I cannot afford to have any weaknesses in this battle against Baras.” A small spot of color appeared on each of Quinn’s cheeks, looking drastically red against his pale skin. “I see.” He stood up quite abruptly. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I am going to check on the status of the shuttle.” He walked away before she could say anything. A’tro watched him go, her hands falling to her sides and latching onto the edge of the bench with a viselike grip. This was the right thing to do, she told herself. It’s for the best. I am the Emperor’s Wrath, now. I can’t afford to be tied down, can’t afford a potential distraction. That’s all this ever was, anyway. A distraction. She had spoken with the Emperor’s Voice, come face to face with reality. Ending her affair with Quinn was the logical choice to make, for both their sakes. Because when he’d said he loved her, there was a part of her that had very much wanted to answer in kind. That was weakness, and now she’d cut that weakness out. It would hurt for a while, but she would be stronger for it. That was what she told herself as she made her way to the landing platform. It was what she told herself as she boarded the shuttle, and what she told herself as she waited out the flight in tense silence while Quinn sat as far away from her as he could without seeming rude. She was still justifying it in the back of her mind when she reported the success of her mission to the Emperor’s Hand. When the conversation was over and the holoimages of Servant One and Servant Two faded away, the sound of Quinn’s voice was as startling as a sudden dousing of icy water. “My lord, I’m afraid that we cannot go to Corellia at this time…” As the Alecto sped through hyperspace to their new destination, A’tro tried to recover her resolve, and found it shattered. I can’t do this, she realized. Force help me, I’m too weak. I can’t do it. She had to make things right. Quinn was alone on the bridge, but she didn’t want to talk to him while he was piloting. She would bring him with her onto the transponder vessel, get him alone, and do her best to salvage the situation. I’ll apologize to him, she decided. I wasn’t thinking clearly. If he’s willing to forgive me, we can continue. If not…then I’ll just have to come to terms with my own stupidity. Her plan seemed to work perfectly. Quinn volunteered, and so she took him with her onto the enemy ship. It wasn’t even suspicious to the others. The Force was with her, stirring nervous anticipation into a hurricane deep in her stomach. She was so distracted by her emotions that she didn’t even stop to wonder why they hadn’t encountered much resistance. She let Quinn take the lead, since he knew the layout of the ship, and when he came to a halt in the center of a large, empty room, she saw an opportunity to make her case. But Quinn spoke first. “My lord,” he said coolly. “I regret that our paths must diverge.” And then A’tro realized that she was far, far too late. ***** Imperial Base, Telos 13 ATC She had very much wanted to kill him then, and perhaps she should have, but she couldn’t. Even now, she still didn’t hold Quinn accountable for his actions. It had been Baras’ plan, and she had unwittingly pushed him over the edge into carrying it out. Logic and all her Sith teachings told her that she should kill him now and eliminate her ceaseless internal debate. But as she stepped down from the shuttle and watched him walk off towards the command center, it occurred to her, quite suddenly, that there was another way.

"Therobird Shan and his jacket shoulders" is one of my new favorite things. If I ever collect some other Theron fans and start a band, that's what I'm calling it.

This is going to be good. Everything's better with pirates, right?

I'm making an effort to update more frequently. Partially because the plot is reaching a point that I'm really excited to work on, partially because I'm trying to become more self-disciplined about writing, and partially because if I only update once a week, I'll be working on this for years. I won't ask anyone to wait that long to find out what happens. Eleven Republic Outpost, Telos 13 ATC A’tro pivoted out of the way of the Republic soldier’s swing, twisting around the angle of his vibrosword to drive her left lightsaber deep into his torso. He should have known better than to engage a Sith blade to blade. As he staggered, she kicked his legs out from under him, letting the momentum of his fall drag her lightsaber and extend the wound from survivable to fatal. She pushed the body off her blade with a casual blast of the Force, letting it fall with the other two who had first engaged her. There had been one more, but he had fled like a coward when she started cutting down his comrades. She had let him. He was only prolonging the inevitable. She turned to face her next opponents. There were eight of them, heavily armored commandos by the looks of them, and they raced towards her from over the nearby hill, readying heavy weapons. Beyond the hill lay the Republic encampment, half a dozen walkers that served as little more than a base for their scouts. The Imperial forces should have eliminated the lot of them a long time ago. When A’tro returned to the base, she would make Moff Drayle answer for his failure to act. At that moment, however, she had more pressing matters to think about. Eight enemies were a challenge for most Sith to fight alone. For many, it would even be impossible. She knew that she shouldn’t have gone running off on her own, she should have at least taken Janeth and Zariel with her, but she had wanted time to think. There was nothing quite as relaxing as a fight to the death. Here, with the dark side smoldering like a furnace deep in her consciousness and more ordinary adrenaline coursing through her veins, she could finally think clearly. Emperor’s blood, I needed this, she thought as she leaped for the center of the cluster of enemies headed towards her. She was still in the air when she gave herself over to the Force’s guidance. By the time she hit the ground and started killing, she didn’t have to think about it at all anymore. Some Sith went berserk in combat, going on mad rampages that they couldn’t even remember when it was over. Darth Evendre had taught A’tro that she had to control the darkness, or it would consume her. Even though her master had turned out to be a traitor, A’tro had continued to follow those teachings. It wasn’t the light side. It was just logical. It was her control, her will that let her think clearly in the heat of battle, let her allow the Force to guide her actions even while her conscious mind contemplated something else entirely. So while her lightsabers moved in a deadly scarlet whirl, she let her mind’s eye finally bring up the images she had been suppressing with all her might. Quinn. She was still physically attracted to him, that was for certain. Several memories came to the surface, vividly enough that she faltered for an instant. The solid impact of a blaster bolt against her left shoulder, making a small crater in her armor deep enough to bite into the flesh beneath, shocked her back to full awareness. She quickly counterattacked, driving both lightsabers through the vulnerable faceplate of the soldier who had landed the shot. And there was the problem. Quinn was a distraction. Every moment she spent in his presence was a moment spent lying to herself, denying that what she really wanted was him. Back on her crew, back in her life, back in her quarters every night to don’t think about that now, you’ll get yourself killed. He had told her that he loved her, once. A’tro found herself lowering her sabers into a guard stance. She looked around to see all eight commandos arrayed unmoving on the ground around her. Awareness of the world came rushing back. She breathed in the scent of scorched armor and blood and the raw, lingering fear that was still echoing in the Force. Her wounded shoulder started stinging. She ignored it; that level of pain was barely worth acknowledging. Keeping her lightsabers at the ready, she stepped over the corpses and crested the hill. There were the Republic walkers, six of them, laid out in a semicircle in a flat-bottomed depression at the center of a loose ring of hills. A considerable number of soldiers were pouring out of them, arranging themselves in defensive formations and setting up heavy weapons and war droids with a degree of speed and efficiency that A’tro had to admit was impressive. As she watched, a number of them fanned out on either side of the encampment, probably intending to flank her and cut off her escape route. She would have to keep an eye on that. At the head of the defenders stood three Jedi, one more than had been reported. Two were human; A’tro gave them a quick look and immediately dismissed them, focusing her attention on the third. It was K’saria. She said something to her companions and started walking towards A’tro, alone. Her lightsaber stayed on her belt. A’tro kept her own lightsabers out and lit, letting K’saria come to her. As the distance closed between them, identical golden eyes met from identical faces. Though they were not completely identical, not anymore—A’tro’s scar, her gift from Evendre, ensured that. And it appeared, much to her amusement, that K’saria was still dyeing her red hair black. She wondered briefly if the Jedi knew, and if it were against their rules. In a few moments, it wouldn’t matter. “K’hera,” K’saria said as she drew close enough to be heard without shouting. A’tro scowled silently and leaped for the kill. But K’saria was evidently prepared, and moved with Force-enhanced speed so that by the time A’tro had reached her, her lightsabers met a shining blue blade rather than K’saria’s torso. A’tro landed, disengaged, and dropped into a Juyo opening stance. Her eyes were fixed on K’saria, but she kept her other senses and the Force focused on the Republic troops, which were now behind her. “K’hera, what happened to you?” K’saria asked. She lowered her blade, holding it diagonal to her right side. She still spoke with an Imperial accent. “There’s such darkness within you, now. Such hate. You didn’t used to be like this.” “You never knew me, K’saria,” A’tro said, her jaw clenching. “And my name is Darth A’tro.” “They said you were the Emperor’s Wrath. How did this happen?” “I became powerful,” A’tro said grimly. “More powerful than you could ever hope to become.” K’saria shook her head. “That’s Sith rhetoric talking. I can’t believe that this is really you.” “And that’s Jedi naïveté talking,” A’tro countered. “Look deeper, K’saria. Remember your Sith teachings. You know where true strength lies.” “I do. And it is not with the dark side.” “Spare me your Jedi sentimentality. I have no interest in debating with you.” “No,” K’saria murmured, “I suspect you’re only interested in killing me. Isn’t that right?” “Did the Force tell you that?” A’tro asked dryly. “You always did like to go on about how it spoke to you.” “I am a Jedi,” K’saria said firmly. “I am one with the Force, and with all life in the universe. Your intentions are clear. I ask only that you consider this, before you attack: do you truly wish to kill me of your own accord, or have you been conditioned by your upbringing?” “You’re delaying me so your men can surround me. It won’t make a difference.” “We are sisters, K’hera—A’tro.” K’saria’s mouth twisted at the word. “Twins. We have a special connection, even if we’ve both tried our whole lives to deny it. We shouldn’t be fighting one another.” “Just because we’re family doesn’t mean I have to like you.” A’tro tightened her grip on her lightsabers. “Our mother taught you to think that way.” “Don’t pretend she didn’t teach you, too,” A’tro spat, the perpetual flame of rage within her suddenly burning white hot. “Don’t pretend you’re any better than me! You were her favorite, her precious little Sith princess! And you failed her, you failed our whole family, the whole bloody Sith Order, and now you think that you can stand there and preach to me about right and wrong?” “I failed no one but myself for not realizing the truth sooner.” A’tro shook her head and attacked. K’saria sprang into action, deftly parrying every blow. “You think because the Jedi took you in, that gives your life meaning?” A’tro demanded, pressing the offensive. “You have no meaning. You’re nothing.” “We don’t have to do this!” K’saria protested, moving backwards as she deflected the rain of attacks. “It doesn’t have to be like this!” “Did you tell the Jedi that no Sith Master wanted you?” A’tro taunted. “Did you tell them that you left Korriban as a nobody with no master and no future?” “That was true once,” K’saria said. She turned her defensive maneuvers into a series of quick, neat attacks. “The light gave me a purpose. The Jedi gave me a future. It doesn’t matter what I was before.” “Nothing about you ever mattered,” A’tro said derisively, twisting away from the attacks and countering. “You’re going to die here on this insignificant speck of a world, and no one will remember you or care. Just like it should be.” “Even if you defeat me, our forces have you surrounded. You can’t win.” “If you’re going to ask me to surrender, my answer is no.” “If you fear the Emperor’s retribution, the Jedi can—” “Why?” A’tro asked, flurrying attacks against K’saria’s blade, forcing her way to the center of her defenses until her single blue saber was locked against a cross formed by A’tro’s two red blades. “Why do you keep trying? I fight for the future of the Empire, and I would gladly die for that cause.” Across the deadly bars of red and blue, K’saria’s face showed only calm tinged by sadness, though A’tro could feel her straining against her blades with all her might. “And what is the Empire’s future? A galaxy awash in blood, ruled by fear.” “The blood of our enemies,” A’tro hissed. She pushed forward, trying to overwhelm K’saria with sheer physical strength. “I’ll pour yours out into the dirt of this place.” She saw K’saria’s jaw clench, felt her guard start to falter— A shadow fell over them. The Force whispered danger, and A’tro leaped backwards as something went screaming through the air to hit the ground where she had been standing and explode in a sizeable fireball. She looked up and saw Imperial landing craft circling like vultures, dropping more bombs and soldiers on the Republic troops. Blasterfire and explosions started to fill the air as fighting began in earnest, turning the scene into chaos. It seems I was missed, she thought, and looked around for K’saria. It took a few moments to locate her amidst the mayhem, but A’tro finally spotted her sister’s brown-clad figure on the other side of the encampment, moving back among the walkers in a defensive formation with the other two Jedi. A’tro almost went after her. Almost. But there was a wall of battle between them, and she knew that by the time she had fought her way through, K’saria would be gone. Rage surged in her chest, nearly clouding her mind, but she released enough of it in one short, sharp sigh that she could think clearly. She kept the rest of the anger close, let it fuel her as she raced over to the nearest knot of fighting and began laying waste to the Republic soldiers. Having the opportunity to settle the score with her sister was maddening, but an Imperial victory was more important than her old hatreds. Besides, she thought sourly, I still don’t know what I’m going to do about Quinn.

Ten Republic Outpost, Telos 13 ATC The currents of the Force keened with tension like the air before a thunderstorm. K’saria Dhakar could feel it thrumming all around her where she knelt in meditation in the shadow cast by one massive leg of a Republic walker. The soldiers bustling around her shone in the living Force, their collective energies swirling together to form a window into the secret turnings of the universe. K’saria looked into that window and saw doom. It bore down from all sides, storms that would eventually come together into a vast tempest of death and destruction. She could see it clearly: the dark side had come to Telos. The darkness was always present in the Force, for it was as much a part of it as the light, the black silt lying on the bed of a clear, shining river. Now, something or someone had stirred the silt, muddying the light with swirling clouds of shadow. The question was, what had caused this? The Imperial invasion had brought some darkness with it, but nothing like this. K’saria had been meditating on it ever since the change had occurred, and she could only conclude that the Force was acting in response to the arrival of a powerful Sith Lord. It had been, she supposed, only a matter of time. The most surprising thing was that the Imperials didn’t seem to have brought any Sith with them in the first place. It had given K’saria hope that they could reach a peaceful solution. She knew firsthand that Imperial commanders were far more reasonable without Sith lurking over their shoulders. Now, though… The doom she could feel in the Force strongly indicated that peace was no longer an option. "Master K'saria," said a calm, quiet voice. She opened her eyes and looked up to see one of her fellow Jedi standing before her. Elaedrin Myn was human, twenty-one years old, and newly elevated to the rank of Knight. She had straight, shoulder-length blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face with wide, deep-set green eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and a full mouth. That mouth was currently a grim line as she regarded K'saria with her arms folded across her chest. "Yes, what is it?" K'saria asked. "Master Setia asked me to tell you that you're needed in the command walker right away," Elaedrin said. Her voice was flat, devoid of all but the faintest hint of emotion. "She said it was very urgent." K'saria rose to her feet, brushing dirt off her knees, and kept her concern hidden. The war had taken its toll on Elaedrin, moreso than was to be expected. In her opinion, the young woman should have stayed a Padawan for some time yet, but Setia had disagreed. "I won't keep her waiting, then," K'saria said, and started the short walk over to the walker that was serving as a command center. Elaedrin walked beside her, her arms still crossed. K'saria looked over at her. "You seem tense," she observed cordially. In truth, she could sense more than tension in Elaedrin. There were shadows within her, shadows that her inner light was not strong enough to burn away. "I'm fine.” "It's all right to be nervous. A little fear keeps you grounded in the present, where you should be." "I'm not nervous. There is no emotion, there is peace." "Jedi still feel, Elaedrin," K'saria said sharply. "There is a difference between serenity and apathy." "With all due respect, Knight Dhakar," Elaedrin said, a faint note of resentment coloring her monotone, "I am not a Padawan who requires lecturing." "I offer friendly advice, from one Jedi to another. That was all." "Yes, I'm sure that was your intention," Elaedrin muttered. K'saria would have liked to have said more, but they reached the command walker. She moved up its ramp and into the interior, Elaedrin following a short distance behind. Inside the walker, Jedi Knight Setia Aru and Republic Commander Zaron Dalvenna stood over a holoprojector showing a topographical map of the area. “K’saria, there you are,” Setia said. She was human like her former Padawan, dressed in Jedi battle armor that rode easily on her tall, muscular frame. “Recon just reported in. A Sith ship landed at the Imperial encampment this morning. I’m sure you felt their presence too.” K’saria nodded. “What I have sensed is…disturbing.” Dalvenna raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way of putting it. We got a few reads on the ship’s drive signature. Intel says it’s almost a perfect match with their record of the ship belonging to a Sith called the Emperor’s Wrath.” The tangled web of portents hovering in the Force suddenly made a great deal more sense. “We were hoping you could tell us more,” Setia said. K’saria pressed her lips together, thinking hard. “The Emperor’s Wrath is a legend among Sith,” she said finally. “Even the Dark Council is said to be wary of him. When the Wrath appears, which is not often, it is generally to carry out a death sentence ordained by the Emperor.” “This Sith’s arrival is bad news, then,” Setia murmured. “It gets worse,” Dalvenna said dourly. “The latest SIS reports are sketchy, but rumor has it this Wrath is new, and very active in the field.” He gave K’saria a long, intent look, then removed a data cylinder from a pocket and inserted it into the holoprojector. The projector flared brightly, replacing the map with a static-laden blue image of a figure wielding two lightsabers, frozen in mid-swing. “This was taken on Corellia four months ago,” Dalvenna said. He tapped the holoprojector controls, and the hologram expanded, showing a larger image of the figure’s face. Setia frowned and looked from the image to K’saria and back again. “She looks just like you.” Elaedrin, who had been hanging back near the walker’s hatch, edged in closer for a better look. “I believe I understand now,” K’saria said softly. “Understand what?” Setia asked. “The Force has been trying to tell me something, I’m certain of it. Ever since this Sith—since the Emperor’s Wrath—arrived, I’ve felt darkness closing in.” Setia narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t you say once that you had a sister?” “I do, yes. A twin.” K’saria studied the hologram. It seemed to stare through her, as if she were the transparent one. “I had not thought to ever see her again.” “Looks like she came to you,” Dalvenna said. He sighed wearily. “I hate to ask this, but we’re going to be fighting this woman. If there’s anything you can tell us about her, anything that might help…” “I will tell you what I can. I do not know how useful it will be.” K’saria clasped her hands together in front of her. “I hadn’t seen K’hera in some time before I left the Empire. If she is now the Emperor’s Wrath, I suspect she has changed a great deal.” Dalvenna started to say something, only to be interrupted by a man in Republic armor painted with camouflage patterns barging into the walker. “This is a private meeting, soldier,” Setia said coolly. “I’m sorry, sir, Master Jedi,” the soldier panted, “but we’re under attack!”

Thanks for reading, thanks for commenting. It means a lot to me. The plot is going to take off very soon. Nine Imperial Base, Telos 13 ATC A’tro made her way back towards the landing pad, trying not to walk too quickly lest she betray that she was very much trying to run away. She had miscalculated yet again, deluded herself into thinking that by coming face to face with Quinn once more she could experience some sort of closure. She was wrong. She had never been more wrong. She had been lying to herself the whole time. She didn’t want closure, didn’t want to remove him from her life. It had been less than two months since she’d sent him away, but it had felt like a lifetime. Seeing him again had sent her every sense into overdrive and lit her nerves with a fire that was slowly searing into her brain an understanding that she was struggling with all her will to deny. She would have to kill him. That was not the understanding, but it was the only solution. Quinn had to die. All her treacherous feelings would die with him. It wasn’t unusual. Sith did that sort of thing all the time. She just wasn’t certain that she had the strength. She rounded a corner, feeling her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, and nearly collided with a slim woman carrying an armful of datapads. The woman gasped in surprise, dropping a number of the datapads onto the floor. A’tro ground to a halt as the woman scrambled to scoop the datapads back up into her arms. She was in uniform, but hers was all black instead of gray, and she had no visible insignia. “I’m so sorry, my lord!” the woman said breathlessly. She tried to salute, appeared to realize that carrying her cargo made that impossible, and bowed instead. “I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. I apologize.” A’tro looked her over. She was quite thin, thinner than looked healthy for an adult human female, and her fair skin had a pallid quality that suggested she rarely saw sunlight. She had neat, chin-length black hair, and wide eyes that were the same shade of dark blue as the ones belonging to the man from whom A’tro was trying so hard to escape. “You are forgiven,” A’tro murmured, the words coming out on autopilot. The woman straightened from her bow into rigid attention. “Watcher Twenty, Imperial Intelli—I mean, Sith Intelligence.” A’tro raised a brow-ridge, the new information intriguing her enough to push thoughts of Quinn off to the side. “I didn’t realize Intelligence was organized enough to send people to the front lines again. What’s your job here?” “Tactical assessment and data analysis, my lord,” Watcher Twenty said. She blinked for the first time since the conversation had started. “Sweet stars, you’re the Emperor’s Wrath.” A’tro started to feel ever so slightly amused. “I am.” “I once again extend my most heartfelt apologies for getting in your way, my lord,” Watcher Twenty said, black brows knitting together in a nervous frown. “Relax,” A’tro told her. “You seemed to be in a hurry. Is something going on?” “I was on my way to deliver a report to Moff Drayle. Reconnaissance has reported in from scouting the Republic’s nearest defensive line and I felt it best to share the relevant information with him immediately.” “Then you should be on your way.” A’tro thought for a moment. “In fact, I will accompany you. I think I’d like to hear this report myself.” “Of course. My lord.” Watcher Twenty adjusted her hold on the datapads and started off at a brisk pace. A’tro fell into step beside her. As much as she wanted to go back to her ship and mull over the Quinn situation, she had a duty to the Imperial war effort. That merited her full attention. She briefly considering stopping by the office and retrieving Janeth and Zariel, then decided against it. They would probably find her easily enough, and she was tired of being constantly shadowed. Watcher Twenty kept sneaking quick glances over at A’tro, as if keeping an eye on some sort of poisonous insect lurking just out of swatting range. She did it so often that A’tro half expected her to miss something directly in front of her, trip on it, and drop the datapads all over again. But they made it to the command center without incident. A’tro took a deep breath, steeling herself, for Quinn would surely be there, then slipped through the door after the Watcher. Indeed, there was Quinn, conferring with Drayle, Merrik, and a woman with cybernetic optics and a colonel’s insignia. Watcher Twenty skittered up to them, while A’tro followed more sedately behind. “Sir, I have bad news,” Watcher Twenty said without preamble. She deposited her pile of datapads atop the nearest console with a clatter. “The Republic has landed troops from off-planet and they’ve set up a position quite near our forward outpost.” “They’re bringing in offworld reinforcements already?” Drayle mused. “They must be worried.” Watcher Twenty picked up one of the datapads and fidgeted with it. “They have two Jedi with them.” “And we have the Emperor’s Wrath,” Drayle countered. He nodded to A’tro as she approached. “My lord. Glad you could join us.” Watcher Twenty’s fidgeting increased. “A scout managed to capture an image of one of the Jedi. It’s not the best quality, but I believe that this particular individual is, well…” She lowered her voice. “A defector.” Merrik and the colonel exchanged glances. Quinn remained impassive. A’tro moved up to stand at Watcher Twenty’s shoulder, which was level with her eyes. “Are you absolutely certain of this?” Watcher Twenty looked at the datapad she was holding, put it down, picked up another, and brought up an image on the screen. A’tro peered at it. It had been taken from quite far away. She could just make out a figure in brown. “Is that the Jedi there?” Watcher Twenty zoomed in on the figure. The resulting image was blurry, but A’tro was able to discern a rough impression of a face framed by dark hair. A face with copper skin and golden eyes. A’tro’s blood ran cold. “As you can see, the Jedi is almost certainly a Pureblood Sith,” Watcher Twenty whispered. “Which is why I felt this warranted your immediate attention, sir.” Drayle nodded. “Keep the scout who captured this image out in the field and isolated from the rest of the troops. We don’t want word of this spreading.” “Morale is bad enough as it is,” Merrik muttered, so quietly that A’tro’s Force-enhanced hearing barely picked it up. “Already done, sir,” Watcher Twenty said. “This needs to be handled delicately. And quietly.” “Do you have any idea as to the identity of this Jedi?” Quinn asked, speaking for the first time. Watcher Twenty shook her head. “I’m working on it, but with the image quality being what it is, cross-referencing with the Intelligence archives is bringing back more matches than I have time to sort through with all my other duties. And the HoloNet connection here is terrible. I’m going to need more time.” “Prioritize your other duties first, Watcher,” Drayle ordered. “We don’t have time to waste.” “Respectfully, sir, I have to disagree,” Quinn said. “Knowing the identity of the traitor could prove very valuable when fighting them. They will certainly be familiar with our standard tactics.” “Your opinion is noted, Captain,” Drayle said. He turned back to Watcher Twenty. “Keep this information under wraps at all costs. You’re dismissed.” Watcher Twenty saluted smartly, scooped up her datapads, and departed. Drayle shook his head. “Emperor save me from Intelligence analysts and their eccentricities.” “She had a point,” A’tro said. “And so does Quinn.” It was the first time she’d said his name in weeks, and she nearly stumbled over it. “This needs to be dealt with.” “Frankly, my lord, our forces are spread thin,” Drayle said grimly. “Mounting a direct assault on the Republic would require diverting troops from this base or one of our outposts.” “You don’t need more troops, Moff,” A’tro said, folding her arms across her chest. “You have me.” “Nevertheless, I do not believe we should rush into this situation unprepared.” Drayle’s tone switched from commanding to cajoling partway through the sentence as he appeared to remember to whom he was speaking. “My lord, I advise waiting for further information from our scouts. We have limited resources, and I do not wish to act in a manner that might waste any of them.” “I understand,” A’tro said. She unfolded her arms. “It does intrigue me, however, that the situation presented to me on Dromund Kaas of an impending Imperial victory here on Telos appears to have been a falsification.” Drayle paled slightly. “My lord, I assure you, it was never my intention to mislead you. I don’t know what Major Merrik told you—” “I conveyed the message you instructed me to convey, sir,” Merrik interjected silkily. “We are having some difficulty making progress, that is true,” Drayle said stiffly. “But I assure you, with you here, our victory is certain.” A’tro frowned. “I did not come to this wretched planet to counterbalance your own failings.” “Of—of course not, my lord,” Drayle stammered. “I, uh—” “The conquest of Telos will proceed,” A’tro said coolly. “Whether or not you will need to be replaced when it is finished remains to be seen. I suggest you think that over.” She turned and swept out of the room. ***** Quinn watched the Wrath go, her cape swirling behind her as she walked. The four officers stood silently for several long moments. Then Drayle muttered something about inspecting the troops and left, somewhat shakily. “That went well,” Merrik drawled when he was gone. Colonel Lyn ran a finger over the metal bar embedded along her temple. “Drayle’s not used to dealing with Sith. He needs to get his act together before the rest of us are dragged down with him.” “She isn’t normally like this,” Quinn found himself saying. Both women turned to look at him. “I keep forgetting you used to serve with the Wrath,” Lyn said. “What’s your take on this?” “She seems…distracted,” Quinn said slowly, already regretting his failure to keep silent. “She’s not one to threaten for no reason. There must be something else on her mind.” He had a feeling he knew what that something else was, too. “Probably the whole ‘rogue Sith’ thing,” Merrik said. “I imagine that must be odd to deal with.” “This could work to our advantage, though,” Lyn said thoughtfully. “The Jedi gives us an excuse. Quinn, if you could talk to the Wrath, get her to convince Drayle to stop stalling and attack, we might accomplish something.” “I’m not certain I can do that, sir,” Quinn said. The nervous anticipation he had felt earlier returned. “The Wrath may not be entirely open to my advice.” Merrik snorted. “Let me guess: she doesn’t like you and that’s why she stuck you here.” “The reason for my reassignment is not your concern, Major,” Quinn said coldly. Merrik raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I care for your tone, Captain.” “Enough,” Lyn said firmly. “I won’t have the two best officers in this whole contingent at each other’s throats. Leave your Academy rivalry there in the past, where it belongs.” “Yes, sir,” Merrik sighed. “I apologize, sir,” Quinn said. Lyn shook her head. “We have to make the best of this situation. Quinn, if you can’t talk to the Wrath, then I will.” “I could do it,” Merrik said eagerly. “I already convinced her to come here, didn’t I?” “No,” Lyn said flatly. “If you offend her with your unprofessionalism, that’s two bridges burned. I won’t have it.” Merrik looked slightly crestfallen. “Whatever you say, sir.” Lyn turned to Quinn. “I want you to go check in with Watcher Twenty and see if she has any other information. Anything at all that might help.” Quinn stood at attention. “Yes, sir.” “Merrik, check in with Faraday about the walkers.” “I’ll get right on it.” “I’m going to find Drayle and try to advise him about handling Sith. Dismissed, both of you.” Lyn strode off purposefully. Merrik looked at Quinn. “In all seriousness, though. Is this going to be a problem? As in, will the Wrath not want to work with us because of you?” “If it were going to be a problem, I doubt she would have agreed to your request,” Quinn said. “As it is, I suspect she is displeased with Drayle’s reluctance to take action.” “Aren’t we all?” Merrik sighed. “I should be going.” She walked away shaking her head, leaving Quinn standing alone. He had answered Merrik’s inquiry confidently, but he couldn’t help but be concerned. A’tro was clearly distracted by something. It could be the traitorous Jedi. It could also be him. If his presence interfered with her concentration in battle, if she were hurt or killed because of it… No, that was a foolish and paranoid notion. A’tro had never been one to let her emotions interfere with her judgment; he knew that perfectly well. She would do her duty, and he would do his. It was the way it had to be. ***** A’tro found herself once again walking through the Imperial base deep in thought, but this time, she wasn’t thinking about Quinn. She was thinking about someone else. Someone she hadn’t thought about in a very long time. The Jedi, who was clearly of Sith blood. The Jedi with copper skin and golden eyes, who even in the blurry image had looked a great deal like her. This would not do. This was more important than Quinn right now. Before she could even begin to find some sort of resolution to her personal conflict, this Jedi had to be destroyed. She would have to act alone, and she would have to act quickly, before further scouting missions produced clearer images. It was a problem that she really should have expected to need to deal with sooner rather than later, but she had not expected that K’saria would survive long enough for it to be an issue. A’tro would not underestimate her again. Perhaps the Force had brought her to Telos to resolve more than just her issues with Quinn. She could feel it in her heart, in her bones: after eight long years, she was finally going to have the chance to kill her sister.

Eight Imperial Base, Telos 13 ATC Moff Drayle had assembled a delegation on the main landing pad to greet the Wrath when she arrived, as was appropriate, but the longer they waited the more Quinn wished he’d had some feasible excuse to opt out of it. Nervous anticipation writhed nauseatingly in his gut, and the more he tried to suppress it, the more it tightened its coils. He showed none of this outwardly, of course. Every Imperial officer was trained to maintain proper decorum at all times, even—or perhaps, given the military’s relationship with the Sith, especially—when being eaten alive by fear. He was not afraid, not exactly, but he could not deny a degree of uneasiness as he speculated about the Wrath’s motives. Why would she come to Telos? Merrik could be a smooth talker, but Quinn doubted even she had the rhetorical prowess to convince the Wrath to go to a place where she surely knew he was. She had wanted him gone badly enough to transfer him far away from her, but now here she was, about to willingly put herself in contact with him again. It didn’t make sense. Perhaps she intended to kill him. It would be the Sith thing to do, and given how he had wronged her, not unreasonable. She had let him live then, but perhaps she had decided that his time had run out. If that proved to be the case, Quinn would offer no resistance. What would be the point? He only hoped she wouldn’t make a spectacle of it. His thoughts were interrupted by the thunder of engines as a Fury-class starship broke through the low-hanging clouds and settled on the pad in a near-perfect vertical landing. Though largely indistinguishable from any other ship of its class, the slight wobble the vessel made as it touched down was distinctive, stemming from a minor fault in the port engine’s wiring. The only way to prevent the wobble was to recalibrate the power couplings after every flight, a task to which Quinn had, in better times, devoted many hours. It was the Alecto, there was no doubt about it. Whoever had landed it had done a very good job, which made him wonder. The Wrath was a gifted Sith, but she was a terrible pilot. Someone else had to be flying the ship. Someone who had replaced him. A brief pang of regret went through him as he stood at attention. Moff Drayle walked down the short line of people, making sure everyone was in order, before settling himself at the head of the group. Merrik, standing close to the Moff, radiated smugness, and for a moment Quinn disliked her a great deal. But he couldn’t hold her at fault for somehow bringing the Wrath there; she was only following orders. Just like he had. The Alecto’s boarding ramp lowered to the floor. Quinn held his breath. A moment later, she came marching out of the ship. ***** A’tro stalked down the ramp with Janeth and Zariel trailing behind her. Moff Drayle had assembled an entourage to greet her, as was proper. It was a smaller group than she would have expected, given her rank. An indication of personnel stretched thin, perhaps? She scanned the faces, keeping her own expression grimly blank. Drayle stood in front in a white uniform; she skipped him over after a cursory glance. Merrik was standing not far behind him. She must have gotten a flight back immediately after speaking to A’tro. And then there was Quinn. A’tro didn’t particularly want to look at him, but she found herself doing it anyway. He looked much the same as he always did: straight-backed and stone-faced, looking like something out of a propaganda poster in his well-fitting black and gray. He was not looking at her. A’tro reached Drayle, and was forced to pay attention as he launched into a greeting. “My lord, welcome to Telos. We are humbled by your presence,” Drayle said, bowing deeply. “It would be our utmost honor to fight alongside your illustrious self.” The constant flattery that came with high rank was starting to make her nauseous. “I look forward to aiding this campaign,” she said. “We will lay waste to the Republic.” “Yes, my lord.” Drayle gestured to the rest of the welcoming party. “My command staff and myself are at your disposal. Would you care for a tour of the base?” A’tro suspected that the base was much like any other, but one had to maintain the formalities. “I would indeed.” “Very good, my lord. My apologies for not being able to escort you personally; I must return to the command center at once.” Drayle turned towards the assembled personnel. “Quinn, show the Wrath our facilities.” A’tro had never believed in the Sith right to summarily execute anyone on a whim, but she suddenly understand why they might want to. “Merrik, Lyn,” Drayle continued, “I’ll need you both in the command center. The rest of you, back to your posts.” He turned back towards A’tro, oblivious to how close she was to snapping his neck with a thought. “My lord Wrath, it is an honor to have you. I promise my men and I will not disappoint.” With another short, formal bow, he turned and left the landing platform. The small group dispersed, leaving A’tro, her two silent guards, and Quinn. “Captain,” A’tro said, the word rasping through her suddenly dry throat. “My lord,” Quinn said quietly. He made eye contact for the briefest of instants, then broke it with a bow. Was he nervous? She hoped he was nervous. Quinn straightened and took a breath. “My lord, welcome to Telos. If you would follow me, I will bring you up to speed on the nature of our fortifications.” Now he sounded like himself, all clipped formality. A’tro supposed it would have been too much to expect for him to give any kind of discernible reaction to her arrival. She briefly prodded at his presence in the Force, but found nothing that she could interpret. “Let’s get on with this, shall we?” she said briskly. Continuing to stand there would accomplish nothing, and she didn’t want Janeth and Zariel to figure out anything close to the truth of the situation. Her history with Quinn was none of their business. Quinn inclined his head acquiescently and started walking. A’tro followed, feeling unsettled. The tour proved to be entirely unnecessary, as the base was constructed from prefabricated units arranged in the standard configuration of optimal defensive capabilities calculated by the Ministry of Logistics. It was smaller than A’tro would have expected, given that it was the launching point of an entire planetary invasion. She had a feeling Drayle had fewer resources to work with, and was faring far worse, than either he or Merrik had let on. She let Quinn talk, giving an occasional affirmative monosyllable as he glibly rattled off the functions of each part of the base. She hoped that Janeth and Zariel were paying attention, because if there was anything important in Quinn’s explanation, she was missing it. She was much too busy trying to act normal to actually focus on his words, instead letting it all fade into a steady background hum that was surprisingly soothing. I always enjoyed listening to him talk. That was a treacherous line of thought to follow. A’tro forced her attention back to the present as Quinn finally stopped walking outside a door set on a narrow hallway that was out of the way of the main traffic area. “This is an office space that has been made available to you for whatever business you may wish to conduct, my lord,” Quinn said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “If there is nothing else you require of me, I will return to my duties.” A’tro nodded. “That will be all. Dismissed.” Quinn bowed and walked away quickly. A’tro looked to Janeth and Zariel. “Are you capable of performing a security sweep of this room?” “Certainly, my lord,” Zariel said. “Good. Do so. I’m going back to the ship.” A’tro turned sharply and walked away in the opposite direction from where Quinn had gone. I need time to think.

And Nalenne continues to be wonderful. I like where you seem to be going with this; merging the two faction storylines does seem much more efficient, considering that the overall plot is the same. I wish Rho good luck. I think he's going to need it.