Enemy of my Enemy...

[MysticTrunks]

The torrential rains that constantly plagued Kaas City were fell harder today. Sheets cascading from a mile out splashed and splattered onto the already water soaked capital city of the Sith Empire. Its citizens, being no stranger to the rain and the damp, stayed indoors under this current deluge as much as possible making the streets and sky lanes seem nearly abandoned by their usual standard of traffic.

 

A lone hover car sailed through the sky, between buildings and walkways, its black painted frame a slightly darker silhouette against the dark sky. It held no open markings of rank or office. Standard vehicle time for the Imperial Marshal Service.

 

Buffeted by the winds as it landed on an open landing pad, the driver stepped out as the door swung up and open. A tall lean form covered in black and grey neolex armor stood as the rain pelted against the rounded helmet that covered his face. Looking up at the building that loomed before him the Force calmed and centered into an angry simmer, that didn’t show outwardly but lay just below the surface, ready to strike if the need arose in what was to come.

 

Sith Marshal Xana’tos walked down the long path that led to the compound of Darth Flayden. He knew already there were at least a half dozen eyes on him. He wasn’t expected, but he would not be unexpected. The giant five meter high doors loomed before him and two guards were stationed to either side. In tandem they stepped before him, crossing their long force pikes before him.

 

“Halt. Darth Flayden is seeing no one. Turn around and go back the way you came,” said a masculine voice from the guard on his left through the amplified helmet com.

 

Xana’tos helmeted face turned to one and then the speaker, his own mechanically amplified voice spoke, “Tell your master Marshal Xana’tos seeks an audience with him.” The guard was already shaking his head, “Tell him, I have information on some “missing property” of his and it would be in his best interest to see me now.” The guard stopped shaking his head, this had struck a chord with him, but the Force told the Marshal he was not ready to cooperate just yet.

 

“Tell him if he does not, he will lose a great deal of human resources between here and his chamber and our meeting will still take place. Your choice guardsman,” the point was emphasized by placing one hand on the butt hilt of his lightsaber.

 

A moments hesitation and then the muffled sound of the guard talking into his helmet com on another channel. One minute later they stepped aside and the doors opened.

 

The compound was really more of a palace on the inside. As the Marshal made his way through the doors and into the large round chamber beyond he say it was decorated in dark marbles and deeply polished red woods. Works of art in the form of paintings and statue covered every nook and crevice from floor to ceiling. At the end was a woman in black robes and a hooded face. When she spoke it was barely above a froggy whisper, as she was just recovering from having her throat squeezed, “Marshal... Xana’tos. He will see … see you. Follow me.”

 

The robes turned and she began walking a slow methodical pace. Someone hiding an injury walks as she does. Noting this he said nothing. He knew the man he was about to see, even if he had never met him before. She’d been punished for bringing word of the Marshals demands to see him before being forced to go and retrieve him.

 

They came to another set of double doors the high and size of a normal pair, but still made of that thick red wood that was used in the places construction. The robed woman stood to one side and the doors opened and she held her hand out to usher him through.

 

The room was dark with only a few faintly glowing floor panels to rings around the floor. Using those he could see the loom was a forty of fifty foot circle. Before he could look further a loud voice like that of brittle parchment crackled over head, “Marshal Xana’tos. How unexpected. Demanding to see me no less. I shall grant you an audience, if you prove yourself worthy...”

 

Of course, thought Xana’tos, he’s one of “those” Sith.

 

In a dark corner between two of the glow panels the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber ignited and lit the area in red light. A Sith pureblood stood there, his hair pulled tight and sleek into a tail behind his head. Red lips snarled in anticipation. So focused on Xana’tos was he, he did not hear the scrape of stone on wood until just before the ten foot marble statue, one of six that ringed the circle, landed on him with a crack and a boom. The red light went out as the lightsaber and its former owner were smashed flat.

 

The Marshals helmeted head paused a moment at the mess and broken statue before look up to where speakers voice had originated, “I’m sorry. I assume I was supposed to kill him, right?”

 

There was a moment of silence, a flare of annoyance and rage flooded the Force, and was silenced as Flayden turned all the lights up. “Quite,” he replied in a clipped voice.

 

“Good, then we can dispense with the pleasantries. Your former... whatever she was, Nye’in. I understand she took something from you.” Xana’tos said he watched Flayden make his way down the stairs to the level just above the floor. The room visible now was like a round stadium with five levels of seating. The withered old form that walked down them looked like it already belonged in a tomb on Korriban.

 

His flesh was gray and wrinkled and spotted with sores were the dark side had taken its toll on his body over the years. He stood straight as he walked but his movements were slow and he could not possibly way more than a hundred pounds, robes and all. Fragile body aside, the Marshal knew his true strength lay not in the flesh, but in the Force.

 

“She’s taken something from me as well. Proof I’d been gathering on you and your dealings to counter whatever it was you sent her after me for. You’ve been a very bad Sith, Darth Flayden.”

 

“How do you know she took an item from me? I know you’ve turned her on me, why then would she turn to on you as well, instead of turning to you?” The parchment dry voice asked, skeptical of the story.

 

Reaching to his chest piece he unzipped a pocket and pulled out out a datapad. “She’s tired of men like you and me running her life. She left me this.” Using the Force he floated the flexiplast sheet to the Darth who grabbed it from the air and scanned it. His eyes reading a few words, then looking to the Marshal to be sure he was not moving.

 

“This is her handwriting. So, she seeks to destroy us both if we do not leave her alone. My, my, my. I had thought I’d beaten the will of free thinking out of her years ago. Now this,” he waved the flimsy and looked thoughtful.

 

“Apparently you did not beat her hard enough, Darth Flayden. Now you and I both have something to lose if she is left to her own devices. Everything. Separately we may not find her before the information is released, together, we can bring her down.”

 

Flaydens yellow eyes tilted back as he looked at the Marshal, “You would do this, knowing what I had intended for you, Marshal? That I sought to place you in my service and in he doing this, you do so of your own will?”

 

“I’m placing nothing in your service, Darth, I am proposing that we work together, mutually to end this threat to both of us.”

 

“And what of after, knowing now what you know of me and my dealings. If, that is you know anything at all?” His wrinkled lips pulled up in a smirk, clearly not convinced the Marshal had evidence of anything of value.

 

The helmet on Xana’tos face whirred and clicked. It began to retracted in segmented pieces, folding end over end and laying flat against his back like an extra layer of armor. His red pureblood face exposed so that the Darth could see his eyes and every bit know he was not bluffing, “I know of your dealings with the Republic, Darth. Of your experiments to create a biogenetic virus to control the Pureblood Sith and bring humans to the forefront of the Empire. And I know, many, many other things.”

 

Flaydens ashen face when down the color spectrum to another shade of white. “How... No.” His words paused as his mind reeled. Xana’tos stood quietly, his arms crossed over his chest, letting the ancient man work through the consequences and possibilities in his own head.

“Very well. We will end this threat together. I want her captured, not dead. For the trouble she has caused me, she must pay. After that, we go our separate ways, a standoff of information.”

 

The Marshal nodded, knowing full well that it would only buy him time before Flayden saw fit to dispose of him later. Sadly for the old Darth, that time would come sooner for him, than for Xana’tos. Outwardly he said, “Agreed. I have tracked her down to the Corellian system. So far as I know she is still on Talus or Tralus. Those planets orbit so close I was not able to confirm which she landed on.”

 

“My sources showed her last on a moon in the Alderaan system.” Flayden said, looking unsure now in the face of confidence the Marshal spoke in.

 

“She was, she jumped on a mining transport that was not made for passengers. The captain logged a complaint about a red Twi’lek stowaway on a Corellian mining station shortly after landing. One that escaped by breaking four bones of two grown men and breaking the jaw of a third on her way out the door. Then, by sheer coincidence a planetary skif was reported stolen not twelve hours later. Last known heading was the Talus and Tralus. Sound like someone you might know?” His heavy eyeridge spiked as he lifted his brow in question.

 

“Yes. Very well, I’ll keep some of my resources searching in Alderaan. If this information is verifiable, I’ll send people to the Twins planets.”

 

The Marshals long scar wrinkled as his lips pulled up in a wry grin, “The informations accurate. It might hurt my feelings some you feel the need to verify it, but you go on ahead. Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same know what I think of you.”

 

Flayden looked unamused. “Very well. Marshal. A deal is struck, I will contact you when we have the woman.” He turned, the thin black fabric that covered him like a shroud whispered on the ground.

 

“As you say, Darth Flayden. I’ll give you a call myself when I get to her first. Having seen how your employees work, I’m sure you’ll understand.” Touching his shoulder the whir and click of his helmet coming alive and unfolding over his face echoed in the chamber, “You have a nice day now.”

 

He heard a scoffing sound as he turned and made his way out the double doors, the woman in the black robes taking her place to escort him to the front door. He didn’t miss the slight smile on her lips that was quickly masked when she looked at him, having heard the conversation. Likely she’d suffer for his insolence, but if things went as planned, and so far they were for the whole of it, it would likely be the last she, or anyone else in the Palace of Flayden had to endure.

 

The note from Nye’in was real enough, he’d had her write it himself in her own hand. With her in hiding on a moon in the Alderaan system and only a quarter of Flaydens resources looking for her, she would be safe enough until the time came to act.

 

The reports on the mining would play out. Though the lethan Twi’lek in those reports were actually his apprentice who he’d asked a day before to stowaway on that mining transport and escape, before taking a skiff off planet. All the reports were real and she had actually gone above and beyond the call of duty by injuring those men. Still, she hadn’t killed them needlessly and he chalked that up to growth of character. Sure, they’d likely never be fully functional, even after kolto treatments but, progress is measured in inches not miles.

 

As he made his way out the looming main entrance and back into the rain he never looked back at the palace like compound. The trap was set and his business in the place was ended.

 

Vengeance would have its turn next.