I never liked how they just handed you a fleet in the game, and so late in the game, too. It always felt too easy and improbable. So… let’s go work for that fleet, guys! (I also didn’t like how Xalek joined the party late enough that he felt incredibly extraneous, so hi, creepy-pants, welcome to the team)
I hadn’t expected Pyron to take over the POV so thoroughly, but it works, so I’m happy! This story arc is actually really complicated, so I spent half the HDD-less break working on it lol. Probably too complicated to fit in a videogame, particularly an MMO? I hope it works for you!
Fun video someone made of Inquisitor storyline funny bits! I like the comment someone made: “Who would win? the galaxy or one zappy boi” (Also the Inquisitor’s VA is Scottish, no wonder I swoon for that voice)
I saw the new Star Wars movie on Boxing Day, 7/10, pleasantly surprised. Points off for: too many callbacks, having to follow the two other movies that were (and still are) kind of terrible, and “hyperspace skipping”. But on the whole it felt like the kind of story I’d write, so sure, I liked it.
(also haha the shipping company somehow couldn’t figure out which apartment was mine on the replacement harddrive so I was an extra 2 weeks without it, good job UPS)
Part 22: Virus
“Well that was intense,” Ashara said as he gasped for air he didn’t need. Her voice was low – it was still the middle of the night, and she sounded sleepy – but playful. Trying to pull him out of the nightmare. “You okay?”
“H-how did you know?” How had she known he wanted her? He put out his hand, patting at her in the dark. Yes, she had a face. Her closed eyelids twitched against his fingertips and he felt her lips curve against his palm.
“Gee, after the way you reached out, I’d be surprised if everyone on the ship didn’t know.”
“Wait, slow down. What did I do?” He was using his power while unconscious? That was… not great.
He sensed Ashara’s smile fade. “I felt you call out through the Force in my sleep. It was so insistent, so desperate, I was halfway to your room before I was properly awake. And once I realized what was going on, you bet I hurried on over. It felt like you were silently screaming again, like you wanted to wake up but you couldn’t.”
He rolled away from her, a bit embarrassed. “Most awkward booty call ever,” he mumbled into his pillow. Disgusting. Cease your inappropriate banter.
For some reason, she found that hilarious, even if her ancestor didn’t, giggling uncontrollably for several minutes.
“I didn’t actually mean that,” he said, turning back to her, still awkwardly shy. “Er. But. Would you stay?”
“Tonight?” She snuggled closer, taking hold of his arm and hugging it close to her.
“E-every night,” he stammered, trying to ignore that his elbow was in the vicinity of her breasts, hoping Kalatosh wouldn’t give him a migraine for her actions. “I’ve been trying to bear it alone, but I can’t. The nightmares are… I haven’t had nightmares like this since I was a snivelling acolyte.” Which, in the grand scheme of things, hadn’t been very long ago. Bare months since he’d been a raw, scared little slave. Which was crazy. On the plus side, she wouldn’t slap him if he started screaming, like the senior acolytes had. Probably. She might slap you because women slap the men they think they own. “Shut up. …Not you. Them.”
“I’m sure you weren’t snivelling. I can’t imagine that.”
“All acolytes are snivelling. It’s like Hutts are slimy. …Please?”
She hesitated a breath. “Yeah, I can stay with you.”
“I-I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Even though he wanted to – his hormones demanded it, loudly and frequently – if her ancestor started acting all ‘protective older male’ over her it definitely wasn’t worth trying.
She giggled. “Well, I’m not worried about it at all now that you said that! Although I mean, come on, it’s me – aren’t you worried about me touching you?”
“That’s not a ‘worry’,” he said dryly, trying not to let on how his hearts quickened. “I’d settle for being able to rest, personally.”
She chuckled and wrapped her arms around him. “Then try and sleep. I’ll be right here, ready to wake you from anything they try on you.”
But he was too keyed up to sleep just yet, and even her warm embrace couldn’t relax him instantly. Breathing slowly was doing nothing for him when his eyes didn’t want to close, staring up at the dark ceiling.
She sensed it, perhaps, or maybe she was just curious; “Hey, what would you have been if you hadn’t become a Sith? I think I know the answer but I was wondering.”
“I would have settled for ‘not a slave’,” he answered morosely. “No, these days I want to be an archaeologist, but if I hadn’t discovered it… I don’t know.”
“I get that,” she said. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about recently. I’ve been trained to be a Jedi practically from birth. But being with you, I’m questioning a lot of things. I’m much more in touch with my emotions now, for example.”
“Huh?” he said, rather rudely. “But you have so many more of them than I do.” More variety, at least, and she didn’t keep them locked down like he did. “You don’t seem particularly repressed.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘repressed’,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s a different way of looking at the world. We’re not supposed to let them take over, that would be foolish – and it’s something I struggle with.”
“It’s foolish to ignore them. The mind, the body, the emotions, if you don’t understand all of them, you don’t understand yourself.” Do you understand your own, foolish boy? You can hardly lecture on this matter.
“Mind and body I understand, but emotions?” Ashara made an uncomfortable noise into his shoulder. “Emotions get me in trouble and I spend a lot of time wishing I had less of them, even now that I’m starting to understand them better. Like, hear me out: my body tells me that fire burns when I put my hand in it, and then my mind remembers so I don’t put my hand in the fire again. What do emotions do beyond that? Everything useful’s been taken care of.”
“So you don’t think it’s useful to make an emotional judgement call on ‘hand in fire bad’?” he asked snarkily. “Possibly to extend to warning other people not to stick their hands in fires?”
“So empathy and compassion, huh? I guess those aren’t just intellectual, are they? But there are other emotions too, and they’re not nearly as good.”
“If you’re talking about the ones that fuel the Dark Side, every biological being is going to fear and hate and feel anger. You can’t get away from that. And assigning a blanket moral judgement to them, is that useful?” His voice was snippy; he was getting emotional about a discussion about emotion. How irritating. She will never understand what strength is for, for she has very little of the sort that matters.
She huffed quietly. “I suppose some of it depends on context and circumstance. I just wish I felt less of them. Which is why I’m wondering if emotions are useful in the first place – useful, not good or bad. I know I said the word ‘good’! I take it back. Look, I didn’t want to start an argument or anything.”
Was hatred ‘useful’? He didn’t know. He was tired and plaintive. “Emotions let you fall in love. Isn’t that enough…?” Bah-!
She abruptly chuckled, releasing all the tension. “Well, when you put it that way… You do make me happy.”
“You make me happy too,” he said. “Let’s make the whole galaxy jealous.” Especially the sputtering noises in his head. He had some work to do to get there, though.
She giggled. “Sure thing. Now try and sleep, okay?”
He nuzzled further into her embrace and felt himself relax, finally. Her warmth was seeping into him, rendering him drowsier. He wasn’t afraid to sleep with her beside him.
He hoped that would last.
When he woke again, he felt pretty well rested – and vaguely alarmed. There was someone next to him-
He looked over and saw orange and white and blue, and calmed immediately. And then smiled. She was sprawled haphazardly, one arm reaching up over her head, one foot sticking off the bed, lekku tangled over her chest, and drooling.
Gods, she was beautiful. And she was only wearing a tank top and shorts, showing all that smooth tangerine skin…
He pulled his thoughts away before his parasites could interfere, checking the chronometer instead. It was nearly time to get up anyway. Ought he to wake her?
He was up and halfway dressed before she stirred. “Hnn… mmf… Whachoo!”
“Please don’t get me physically sick in addition to my mental sickness,” he told her as she sat up, rubbing her eyes and her nose.
“’m not,” she mumbled sleepily. “’s dusty in here.”
“Ugh, fine, I’ll let the droid clean a bit. Did you bring clothes?”
“No? I just came over, all my stuff is still in the dorm.”
“You should bring them in,” he said. “There’s enough stowage space for you. I can move the tablets and holocrons.”
She smiled and flapped her hands a little. “Hooray!”
“You’re really out of it this morning, aren’t you?”
“It always takes me a minute or two. Especially when I wake up in someone else’s bed.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Aren’t you normally grouchy in the morning yourself?”
“Yes, until the second cup of caf. But I woke up with someone in my bed, so…” He couldn’t restrain the shy grin. Oh, just wait until she’s had enough of you whining about us and wants to move out again… He twitched the annoying intrusion way.
She giggled. “But you didn’t stay to cuddle! C’mere.”
“I’d rather not start the day with a migraine,” he said, but moved into range of her arms anyway.
“Right, fair enough.” She kissed him on the cheek, which was not nearly enough now that he’d let himself anticipate more, and got up to move towards the door. “I’ll go get my stuff! See you at breakfast!”
He was at a café table in Vaiken Spacedock, reading the most recent reports on his datapad, when a familiar presence loomed over his. “Look who we have here. Lord Kallig.”
He looked up. “Lord Volkova.”
“Oh, that’s old news,” Akuliina said, looking pleased with herself. She wore too much make-up – she always had, with the dark red lipstick and the intense black and red eyeshadow, but it was particularly obvious to him now, after living with Ashara who used… like… lip balm. She leaned against his table with a hand on her hip, clad in combat-ready scarlet, exuding arrogance and sophisticated confidence. It made him jealous, how comfortable she seemed, how… happy she seemed to be with herself. With her life.
“And completely predictable,” he said. Sure, her promotion had been a while ago, and it hadn’t impacted his life much, but he’d at least heard about it. Eventually.
There was an imperial officer hovering unobtrusively behind her, tall, pale, dark-haired, and stiff, and he frowned at him. “Aren’t you the man who helped me catch a colicoid?”
The officer coughed lightly, blushing slightly pink. “I am, my lord. I’m surprised you remember.”
“Hard to forget the one sensible man on the planet,” Murlesson said dryly. Him and Captain Ilun, to be fair. You should have tried to claim his allegiance. Too late now.
“Quinnnn, you never told me about that!” Akuliina drawled gleefully, rounding on her… captain, he had been promoted since Murlesson had last seen him, if his rank cylinders were anything to go by. “That’s hilarious. What was it for?”
“I needed to get into a Sith shrine under a toxic waste dump, and there were no drones of sufficient quality to scout the area.”
“Lord Kallig controlled the creature’s mind to do his bidding,” Captain Quinn said.
“It was time-consuming, tiring, and ultimately I probably could have accomplished my goal without doing it anyway. But it is possible to do.” Surely you knew Freedon Nadd did the same once? You didn’t? So focused on Naga Sadow, it’s embarrassing.
“Enchanting,” Akuliina said, amusement rolling through her voice. “Then I suppose you need no introductions. What brings you to Vaiken, Murlesson? I wouldn’t have recognized you in that hideous mask but for your Force signature. And even that’s changed.”
He shrugged. “Thanaton is a prick. I have to wear this to keep the voices in my head down.”
She could probably tell he wasn’t joking even though it sounded like he was joking. “You really are cracked.”
“I prefer ‘differently rational’.” The old joke floated back into his memory, jogged by Quinn’s vaguely familiar face. Not that Quinn would know the joke. “What brings you here?”
“Resupply,” she said breezily. “Just got back from eliminating some traitors on Quesh, heading to Hoth next.”
“Good luck with the cold,” he said sardonically. “I was there a short while ago.”
“You survived, so will I. Is Laskaris around? You used to go everywhere together, didn’t you?”
“Not at the moment,” Murlesson said. He actually wasn’t quite sure where Aristheron was, since he wasn’t relevant to the particular reports he was studying. Something about the Euceron system and suspicious Republic activity in the area…? “To answer your question, I’m here to catch the latest military gossip. I’m sure I’ll be adding to it in a couple weeks. Assuming Thanaton doesn’t find me first.”
“Sounds exciting,” she said idly. “I never really cared much for Thanaton, myself. I’ll keep an ear out for your activities.”
He nodded. “And I you.”
“Come along, Quinn.” She sauntered away, her officer trailing her respectfully.
His comm went off. He checked both ways before answering it.
It was Revel. “You’re getting a call from that skeezy Harkun fellow. Want me to take it?”
“I’ll be right there.” Had his acolytes completed their final trial?
He made it to Korriban within a day. He was even more guarded this time. Thanaton wouldn’t be lax anymore, and he might have found out that one of these acolytes – even if they were slaves and so beneath his notice – was being groomed for Murlesson. He kept his power wrapped tightly about himself, skulking in as unnoticed as possible.
He appeared in the door of Harkun’s office like a ghost himself, silently and without warning. Harkun actually jumped to see him. “My lord, you are just in time. The acolytes should be returning shortly.”
He hunched further into the room. “You started without me?”
“There was no point in making you wait,” Harkun said, fairly reasonably. “I will say, there’s something vaguely unsettling about bone-face. He’s hardly said a word. But he’s got a determined glint in his eye. Reminds me of you.” Insolence! Punish him, why don’t you. You’ve always wanted to.
Murlesson refrained from reacting. If the Kaleesh – he’d looked up the species – was determined, great. If he had any head for lore and philosophy, even better.
It was several hours before anyone came back. For a while Murlesson idly wondered if anyone was coming back. But he refused to go to any guest quarters, so he lurked in the corner of Harkun’s office with a datapad, still absorbing military information. Harkun continued his own work, pretending this arrangement didn’t bother him immensely.
The Twi’lek, Seferiss, arrived, dusty and panting, holding out a stone covered with intricate carvings. “Overseer, I’ve returned with the carving, as you requested.” Murlesson felt his interest pique in spite of himself. That was a nice-looking artefact, shades of Force-laced memory clinging about it. Zash might be on to something. He just hoped she was right about it holding a solution.
“Ah, there you are,” Harkun said. “It looks like I was wrong, but so much the better. My lord, may I present to you your apprentice.”
Someone with a simmering Dark aura cleared his throat in the doorway, and they all looked to see the Kaleesh, Xalek, standing there.
“You’re not dead,” Murlesson said without much surprise. Yes, that is much better than this subservient slug. The ‘subservient slug’ clearly has superior artefact-finding skills, though. Doesn’t this boy like that? We’ll have to see who wins…
“Ah, bone-face,” Harkun said. “But you didn’t get the artefact.”
“Xalek,” said Xalek. His voice was cold and deep, and Murlesson might have been intimidated if he had been a fellow acolyte instead of a galaxy-weary Lord with several times as much power. But he still had to remind himself of that fact first.
“Hm?” Harkun blinked at him.
Xalek walked forward with the deliberate grace of a predator, stopping next to Seferiss. The Darkness within him was swelling, not quite under control, the simmer rising to a seethe. “My name is Xalek.”
Without warning, he struck Seferiss full in the face, savagely, several times. Harkun jumped forward, but it was too late – the Twi’lek fell to the floor, his skull shattered, already dead. Murlesson raised an eyebrow. The Kaleesh had great physical strength… and great daring. And liked taking shortcuts. Ha! I was right. This one is better. Ugh, fine, you have won… this time.
Xalek picked up the carved stone, which, fortunately for him, hadn’t broken when Seferiss dropped it, and held it out to him. “Your carving, my lord.”
Harkun’s eyes blazed. “Slave scum. Did you not listen to the rules of this Academy? You do not murder another acolyte! And in the presence of witnesses!” He turned to Murlesson. “I’m sorry, my lord. It seems I’ve failed to teach this miserable dog a single lesson. I will let you know when a new shipment of slaves arrives.”
Murlesson pulled himself out of his hunch to his full height. “No.”
“He murdered an acolyte in the presence of-”
“I know, I was there,” Murlesson said dryly.
“He’s a slave. Tradition demands he be executed!” Harkun roared. “I’ve put up with a lot around here. Training low slaves into Sith Lords. But if the rules of subterfuge and skill give way to blind murder, then the whole Empire is doomed! You were better than that!”
Murlesson let his aura expand slowly, filling the room with his own terrible power, inadvertently making the lights flicker. What did he care if the Empire was doomed? He could kill Harkun. Kill him, tear him apart with our power! He could kill Harkun right now, and no one could stop him, and he’d have revenge for much of the torment he’d gone through on this planet – but that was a waste of his time and energy. Harkun wasn’t worth the effort. A tiny, whinging worm in the grand scheme of things, a weakling so ineffective he was sent to babysit the lowest of the low. Still, he ought to mete out some punishment. Maybe it was a little petty, but Harkun was petty.
He controlled himself. “Sith tradition is as old and crumbling as those tombs outside. I don’t have time to wait. I can use a ruthless killer… but don’t worry.” He looked over at the Kaleesh. “If you have no other skills, you won’t last long. Do you understand?”
“Yes, lord,” Xalek said evenly.
“Darth Thanaton will hear about this!” Harkun cried.
Murlesson’s hackles rose and a ceiling light exploded with a crackle of electricity. How dare he threaten him with Thanaton. “Did you give Zash this much lip too? You did, didn’t you? What makes you think I’m any more forgiving than she is?”
Harkun must have sensed that he’d finally stepped much too far. “My lord-” If he didn’t sense it, he did as soon as Murlesson tensed his fingers; he began to clutch at his throat, forced to his knees.
“Of all the slaves you supposedly trained into Sith Lords, I’m the only one still alive.” He’d looked it up out of curiosity once. “The rest were as disposable as Sith as they were as slaves, weren’t they? I didn’t succeed because of you, Harkun, but in spite of you. You’re not nearly as important as you think you are.”
“Gllk-” Harkun was trying desperately to defend himself, but even if he’d allowed him to speak, he wouldn’t have heard him over the voices cackling in his head, the dark wind roaring in his ears.
Murlesson was past caring. “Should have gotten a hobby that encouraged you to talk back to your superiors less, hmm? I can’t believe I’m the one to kill you. What a shame. You’ll never see me break Thanaton now.”
Harkun’s lifeless body fell to the floor, and suddenly, drained of his cold rage, he felt very tired, all his aches settling back into place. “Well, come along,” he said to Xalek, letting himself slump back into his pained hunch. Logically, Thanaton wouldn’t give a druk that he took an unconventional apprentice. It would only confirm his hatred of him.
“My eyes are on you, lord.” Well, that wasn’t creepy at all. Had he ever been that creepy as an acolyte? His personality was different. His own creepiness was tempered with sarcasm and depression.
Oh, Xalek was so not going to fit in on the ship. Ashara would not be happy.
He would have to, somehow, or Murlesson would kill him himself and go without, no matter what Zash said.
“I don’t suppose Harkun bothered to teach you anything useful, like the Sith code?” Murlesson asked on the shuttle back to the Viper.
“Kill, or be killed,” Xalek said simply, and with finality.
“That’s your entire philosophy? I’m going to have to teach you everything,” Murlesson said, and sighed. What had this man spent his training on? Pumping iron? “Any animal can do that.”
“I am Kaleesh,” Xalek said. “We are warriors.”
“A warrior without wisdom is a brute and a barbarian,” Murlesson said sharply. “A Sith without wisdom is dead.” For once, you said something almost clever.
Xalek paused for a moment. “Command me, and I will strike, my lord.”
Murlesson stared at him through his mask. The man’s laconic speech made it difficult to converse meaningfully with him, and he didn’t want to end up monologuing, he might expose too much of himself. “That will do for now.”
Didn’t you kill your master? voices hissed in his ear. What sort of punishment should be dealt to such a one? Would it not be delicious if your apprentice were to come to kill you?
He rapped his head on the side of the shuttle, ignoring Xalek’s stoically curious glance.
“He’s creepy,” Ashara whispered to him in bed that night. “I’m glad I moved in here like three days ago, because holy nerfs I would not be able to stand being in the dorm with him. I don’t know how the guys deal with it. I really feel bad for Talos, he’ll eat him alive.”
“It will be fine,” Murlesson told her. Wondering how inconvenient it was for her to be the only female on the ship in general. Zash didn’t count. “If he acts out against the rest of you, I punish him. Except I know that’s not what you’re fussing about.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “There’s a huge, vast, massive gap between ‘being so creepy and silent that I’m afraid he’s going to attack me’, and ‘being standoffish and grouchy but still a team player’ like, say, Khem is.”
“Khem’s only that way because I beat obedience into him when we met, and his strange sense of honour means he follows the last person to kick his arse.”
“You mean you earned his respect and now he tolerates everyone because you like us so we count as extensions of you,” she retorted. “Anyway, I’m scared of Xalek, frankly.” She wants everyone to be friends and hold hands and care for each other. Pfa! No one does that.
He sighed. “I’m not sure what to do about that. All I can do is see how much he already knows, start trying to educate him… and see if he’s receptive to working tactically. I liked his strategy in getting the stone-” which Zash had been very pleased to get, even if Murlesson wasn’t going to have time to check it out himself for ages “-but if that’s the extent of his scheming I’ll be very disappointed.”
“Well, thanks for letting me bunk in here. I help you feel safe, you help me feel safe.”
“Funny, even though we’re so diametrically opposed.”
“And we get to watch more holos together.” They were several episodes in on a dumb action comedy called Girls Just Wanna Have Guns; Ashara was loving it but when there weren’t any explosions he fell asleep in the middle of it. Which was a win, given how much he needed sleep.
He hadn’t told her yet, but he had gone back and finished that other movie, the emotionally manipulative one. It had a cheesy happy ending; it was entirely understandable why she liked it so much. He’d just been… unprepared for its emotional manipulativeness. And he had no wish to watch another one in a hurry. Fortunately, there were many other holos by other studios in the galaxy.
He yawned. “I just hope he isn’t too much of a distraction when I go to… do… the things…”
She patted his head as he drifted off. “Night night.”
Valion Pyron, Admiral of the 44th Imperial Fleet, had retired to bed half an hour prior in his quarters on board the flagship Acrimonious, but it was difficult to sleep, as it often was these days. Older men – not that he was old, but he certainly wasn’t in his prime anymore – needed their rest, yet Moff Jovakor Bilsane’s actions made it difficult. Wondering yet again how he could justify this to his grandchildren. ‘Only following orders’ was a poor excuse, yet his hands were well and truly tied. At least the Silencer was not yet complete, and with any fortune would never be…
There was a faint crash and a thump from the outer room of his quarters, and he stiffened, sitting up in bed and listening hard for more movement. Was it just him, or did the darkness seem darker now? It was impossible. There was no light in his quarters once the lights were out. No viewports to let in the ambient glow of the stars, and very few, very dim pilot lights. He usually preferred it that way. So it would be difficult for pitch blackness to get darker.
But what was that he heard? Dead silence, then – a shuffle, and a snarled curse under the breath. “You stupid… Could you have picked a worse kriffing time to interfere-” Pyron was about ready for a ‘what the hell’ himself, but that wasn’t very dignified for an Admiral, so he got up, put on his dressing gown, and turned the lights on in the outer room.
There was a young man, a boy – his slender, lanky, broad-shouldered frame gave his youth away – sitting on his kitchenette counter; one of the kitchenette stools lay knocked over nearby. He was dressed in long, inky black hooded robes, boots and gloves, and a strange, skull-like mask, and had a large lightsaber hanging from his belt. “Hello,” said the boy, in a startlingly deep voice. “Admiral Pyron, I presume. I was going to knock, but the voices in my head made me trip.”
Pyron blinked. No, ‘what the hell’ would not have cut it, if he were in the habit of using it in the first place. “May I ask who you are, sir?” The lightsaber meant probably Sith, and there was no point in annoying a Sith who had evidently made it into his private quarters completely undetected before… tripping over a stool.
“Murlesson Kallig, Lord of the Sith,” the boy said. “You may have heard of me, or you may not. I’m here to make you an offer.”
Pyron narrowed his eyes. He had heard of Kallig, but only vaguely, and recently – an impudent upstart, he had the idea, and had not looked beyond that. Playing games with Sith was a good way to get killed quickly. Then again, so was refusing them, especially with young, potentially-hotheaded ones. “What sort of offer, my lord?”
“Promotion, for you,” said the Sith – Kallig. “You’ve been recommended to me by Lord Laskaris.” He’d heard plenty of Laskaris, at least – a brilliant young Sith Lord poised to lead the 23rd fleet to glory in the next war. “From his endorsement, and my own inquiry, I understand you graduated with flying colours from the Military Academy of Ziost, had an unremarkable but successful early career, more recently serving with distinction in the Great Galactic War, particularly in the Seswenna Campaign, where you were promoted to became the youngest admiral to serve in the Imperial fleet. You are a competent, efficient, and honourable commander respected by his subordinates… with an unmistakable hunger for victory.”
“That is consistent with what appears in my record,” Pyron said, picking up his kitchenette stool. “May I sit down?”
“Please,” Kallig said, gesturing. He lowered his voice to a rasping hiss. “I also know you’ve stagnated since then, that Moff Bilsane was your rival until he was promoted faster for his ruthlessness and had you transferred to his command for the ego trip, and that Imperial High Command holds you back out of jealousy of your abilities and fear of his. I know how many systems the 44th has terrorized for Bilsane’s profit, including the Cassander system, the one we’re in right now, and how he’s used your competence to get away scot-free… so far. I know about the incident on Qat Chrystac, and the massacres on Barkhesh, and how you fret under his yoke. I will destroy him and give you his job… in exchange for your service.”
Pyron felt a cold shiver run down his back. This Sith had dug far too deep into his past, into files he’d thought locked forever. This was looking more and more like a situation in which he would not be able to say no, if he valued his life and what was left of his honour. “I’d like to inquire about the catch.”
Kallig nodded. “The catch is that I don’t like Bilsane’s boss. And his boss doesn’t like me. So this could in fact be very dangerous for all of us. But I’ll have you know I have no interest in grandstanding around impoverished systems, exhorting bribes from illiterate morons and bombing those unable to pay. Such petty acts have no amusement for me. The larger picture is all that matters to me – and the details that lead directly to my goals.”
Bilsane’s patron was Darth Thanaton of the Dark Council. This boy was fighting Thanaton. That was how he’d heard of him, of course, he’d forgotten. He was either very brave, very stupid, or very unlucky. Or very lucky, to still be alive. And to be dragged into such a high-profile conflict… for surely it would be high-profile once the 44th got involved… could be literal suicide, not only career suicide. And he didn’t know anything about Kallig, what he wanted besides fighting Thanaton, what he’d been doing up until this point, his plans, his temperament. His word was not much to go on, especially considering his youth. It would be difficult to be a worse superior than Bilsane, but one didn’t take bets with Sith either. “And what is the larger picture for you, my lord?”
“At the moment, survival,” Kallig said dryly. “Which coincides with Thanaton’s complete and utter destruction. After that… the study and preservation of Sith history.”
Fascinating if true, though he failed to see how a fleet would aid in the second endeavour. “May I ask how you made it in here, by the by?” he asked, stalling.
Kallig shrugged. “I walked. No one ever bothers to notice me. Because I tell them not to.”
“With the… with the Force?”
“Yes, of course. I can hardly make a personal call to your bridge without Bilsane butting his oversized head in.”
“Where did you dock your ship?” For he couldn’t have teleported onto the Acrimonious.
“Elsewhere,” Kallig said, as if he didn’t know or care. “I stowed away on one of your supply shuttles, of course.”
He felt like that ought to be below the dignity of a Sith Lord, but it had been effective, so who was he to question Kallig? He had not worked directly with many Sith, but he’d wager a guess that very few of them could simply walk past all this security, the guards and cameras and locked doors, even with their mystical powers, even if they wanted to. He supposed he should count his blessings that Kallig wanted to, instead of simply creating a large bodycount like many Sith did.
“So… would you like to become the Moff that you’re overdue to be, answering only to me and High Command, and possibly being required to fight against the 43rd and the 58th?” Thanaton’s other fleets. For of course Thanaton would not allow his… new rival to steal one of his own fleets unopposed.
“I-I really must think on this,” Pyron said. “Forgive me, my lord, but I do not trust you. Not yet.”
Kallig tilted his head. “Wise. Never trust Sith.”
“But to engage in a conspiracy – a mutiny – I cannot. My honour as an Imperial officer will not allow that.” Of course, it shouldn’t allow him to continue serving Bilsane, either. Caught between a Sith and a hard place. “And you lack Imperial connection.”
“You will be my Imperial connection,” Kallig said. “With you beside me, and a proper display of patriotism, no one will doubt me. You’ll still be serving the Empire. And it’s not really a mutiny. Think of it as… I’m removing a problematic element from your environment, so you don’t build up any more of these other little spots on your record.”
The Qat Chrystac incident was hardly a ‘little spot’; it had only been covered up because the planet was so remote and useless no one cared. His public record was clean, but it was still on his conscience.
But this Sith was very good at saying what he wanted to hear. Which only made him trust him less. There was nothing but Kallig’s word that he would be able to cease this pointless slaving for a bully. “My lord… I do not doubt you…”
“Except you do, you’re just being polite about it because you’re afraid of me,” Kallig said bluntly. “Which is fine. I’m used to it. But may I continue to point out that for all your good qualities, Bilsane is not honourable. Or competent, or efficient, or respected by his subordinates, except for the ones that take after him. He depends on you taking the higher road to maintain his power.”
“That, and his supporters in Imperial High Command,” Pyron couldn’t help saying bitterly.
“That, you may leave to me,” Kallig said. “I have plans to cut him off from above. But I’d like your support to cut him off from below. Every moment you hesitate is another moment he uses you like a puppet.” He twitched oddly, once, and then went back to stillness.
“But…” He didn’t even know what to object to. He just knew that he did.
“I’m not asking you to stoop directly to his level,” Kallig said, with some youthful exasperation. “But your current tactics are not working. You can’t take him down solely through the established system, and you can’t take him down alone. He’s counting on that.”
“There’s one thing I must ask for, if I agree to work with you,” Pyron said, a little bit defiantly. “My family. He monitors them to ensure my continued obedience. I want an assurance that they will be protected from any reprisal.”
“Your family?” Kallig seemed to think for a moment. “I hadn’t expected that, but I suppose I’m not surprised he would do something like that. Very well. I’ll make a contingency. They’ll be safely out of the way before I take over. Or as I take over, to avoid tipping him off.”
Had he just negotiated with a Sith Lord? And Kallig had agreed immediately, as if it were only natural and reasonable that a man be concerned for his family. Not something to be expected from just any Sith. “Very good, my lord.” He still had to think for a minute or two. Kallig sat on the counter impassively, not moving at all, watching him.
He’d been used too long, been party to too much; he wanted to believe in Kallig and his youthful idealism; he wanted to be a man again, upright and bold, not weary and beaten, to fight for the Empire and the preservation of her justice and order. “If what you say is true, I’d be a fool to refuse you. Bilsane must be removed, and I have no love of Darth Thanaton. I will serve you.”
Kallig hopped off the counter. “Excellent. Then I will continue twisting High Command’s arms until they drop Bilsane like an overcooked tuber.”
Continue? He’d already begun?
Apparently his surprise had shown on his face, because Kallig said: “I was going to take this fleet either way. However, it’s much better for everyone if a steady man is ready to take the helm.” He hesitated. “And should I be unable, for whatever reason, to maintain control of you, I will hand you over to Laskaris. You will be protected from Thanaton and mutiny charges with him, unless Thanaton wants to piss off Darth Marr.” That was ominous, but Kallig made a snort at his own joke. “No one wants to piss off Darth Marr.”
“Should the rest of us survive so far,” Pyron said, and was surprised when Kallig chuckled deep in his throat.
“It’s funny because it’s true,” Kallig explained. “Which means it isn’t funny at all, is it? Oh well. Sith and slaves develop an odd sense of humour, I suppose.”
Pyron blinked. Was Kallig talking about himself?
“Anyway, let’s get to planning,” Kallig said, pulling out a datapad and tapping it. “I have the bones of a strategy, but naturally it would benefit from your knowledge of your own fleet. How many are likely to follow Bilsane, for instance, as I assume there’s more than a few bad eggs in positions to support him. I will also of course need the details on this family of yours.”
If nothing else, his prospective patron was much more intriguing than his current superior. Not that ‘intriguing’ was much comfort when he was contemplating betrayal of the highest order. Kallig had better be right about everything.
The next day was… interesting. Before leaving the night previous, Kallig had said something about ‘observing’. But Pyron hadn’t expected to see him sauntering the Acrimonious’s corridors as if he had every right to be there, instead of being a seditious intruder clad in most suspicious unmilitary garb. And to make matters stranger, no one seemed to notice him except Pyron.
It was difficult not to stare, while in the bustle of ensigns and lieutenants, but on the elevator up to the bridge, Kallig joined him, and no others did.
“What are you doing, my lord?” Pyron asked in an urgent whisper.
Kallig waved a dismissive hand at him. “Relax, Admiral. No one currently notices me except for you. Unless there are any Sith in your fleet right now.”
“There are not at the moment,” Pyron said. Thanaton did not have so many militarily-minded apprentices that there could be one operating all of his fleets, and Bilsane suited Thanaton well enough as a substitute. Perhaps another reason why Kallig had chosen them. Sometimes very low-ranked apprentices were dispatched to join the fleet as part of the infantry, but it hadn’t seemed Thanaton had required that in some time. He had held them back in favour of utilizing the 43rd.
Kallig tilted his head inquisitively. He was a bit taller than Pyron, but he stood and walked slightly stooped, as if he were in pain. “Then no one will detect me. Will it be a distraction for you? Would you like me to cloud your mind as well?”
Pyron scowled. “No, my lord.”
“Good. I prefer you to be fully alert. Now don’t say anything else, you’ll look strange talking to an empty elevator.”
Pyron couldn’t help darting a glance at the security camera in the corner. If Kallig could interfere with machines as well as crowds of people… it was no wonder he had managed to sneak into Pyron’s quarters in the early night. Clearly he was not to be underestimated. It should have given him confidence, but he was still wary of Kallig’s intentions. He hoped this subterfuge would end swiftly and for the better.
He was aware of Kallig’s presence constantly, a dark masked shadow leaning against the wall in the corner of the bridge, arms folded, watching everything. It put him on edge. Oddly, the bridge crew also seemed to be uneasy, though they surely had no idea Kallig was there, and even the lights seemed dimmer in that corner. Perhaps the Sith’s powers had side effects.
There was nothing for it but to act as he always did, which, since he was already acting to cover his displeasure with his orders, was not so difficult. Bilsane always arrived on the bridge exactly on time; if nothing else, he like to be punctual when ordering the 44th around to benefit his whims. “Admiral! Set course for Cassander, it’s time to pay a call on the governor.”
“Yes, sir,” Pyron said stiffly, and gave orders to the helm. And additional orders to the rest of the fleet, because this wasn’t simply a social visit.
Bilsane grumbled to himself up until they reached their position in orbit over the planetary capital, impatient with the laws of time and physics. “Comm! Transmit me to Governor Aldomarc at once!”
“At once, sir,” said Preslov on comm, blandly.
But there was a few moments of connection difficulties, and when the governor’s office flashed up onto the main viewscreen, blue and flickering, there was… no one there.
For a moment. Before Bilsane could do more than turn increasing shades of red, a door in the background of the image swished open and Governor Aldomarc rushed in, looking frightened. “M-my apologies, Moff Bilsane. I was in the refresher, and-”
“Shut up! No one wants to hear your useless excuses. Where is your contribution!?”
The governor made gesticulations and noiselessly opened and closed his mouth. Pyron kept his face professionally blank, but he was amused. Malicious compliance indeed, after being told to shut up. This governor was braver than he looked – not that appearances were any measure of any man.
Of course Bilsane wouldn’t just take that. “Speak!!” he roared, and Aldomarc flinched. “Unless you want a bomber squadron dispatched to your location immediately!”
“Y-yes sir! I-it’s… er, we have… well, not the entire amount requested, but-”
“You dare!?” Bilsane sputtered. “You will fulfill the requested amount or you’ll have more to worry about than bombers!”
“Y-y-yes, sir! B-but we – our budget – the hospitals – the schools-”
“Shut up, peon! All subsidized by the Empire! You owe me your gratitude for protecting you!” His eyes bulged from his head. “Or are you shielding dissidents among you!? Must I purge your cities of rebel scum!?”
“N-no! We have nothing like that here! We’re loyal to the Empire, very loyal!”
“And yet you hesitate to grant the Empire its rightful due.” He nodded to Pyron. “It seems the governor needs some persuasion, wouldn’t you agree?”
He did not agree, with anything, at all, but no one had asked for his opinion. He tightened his lips slightly and that was his only emotional reaction. “Infernal, Doombringer, stand by to execute manoeuvre.”
The captains of the 44th’s two other largest Destroyers replied crisply, blank as droids. He knew they were of like mind to him. The captain of the Reprisal was less scrupulous, and unfortunately the Reprisal, though smaller, was one of the most heavily armed Destroyers in the fleet. If there were to be a split, the Reprisal could do a lot of damage. Even placing it next to the Implacable, one of the most heavily armoured Destroyers, would only mitigate some of it.
Such thoughts were only a distraction at the moment. He’d already told Kallig. Kallig had said he would figure something out. Right now he just needed to grit his teeth and stay professional. “Execute.”
Simultaneously, the two Destroyers emerged from hyperspace over Cassander’s two other largest cities and inserted into geosynchronous orbits. They’d been carefully positioned earlier, the fleet splitting up in the outer edges of the system. Perhaps that was when Kallig had infiltrated the flagship.
It took a few minutes, but it was a few minutes of blessed silence as Bilsane gloated over the look of increasing apprehension on the Governor’s face.
“Do you understand now!? Perhaps you thought you would be the only one punished for your defiance, Governor,” Bilsane growled. “But you are mistaken! Withhold anything, and your entire planet will burn!”
Which was massive overkill and almost wasted more resources than Bilsane gained in this completely unethical behaviour, but if it were to occur, the next systems would most certainly offer no resistance. It was so theatrical it sounded like a bluff, but Bilsane did not bluff. As for Bilsane… there would be an inquiry… and it wouldn’t find anything worth charging him with. Not with Thanaton’s protection over him.
Governor Aldomarc sagged in defeat. “Understood. We will prepare the entire contribution immediately.”
He couldn’t help wondering if Kallig would intervene at all. Couldn’t help hoping Kallig would intervene. This was beneath all of them, but especially the dignity of the Imperial battleships of the 44th fleet. Really.
Kallig didn’t move, watching silently from his corner, and Pyron consciously kept his gaze forward. He could not show signs of unusual behaviour that either Bilsane or his cronies would pick up on. He had to be patient until Kallig was ready to act. He just hoped it would be soon.
Part 23: Idealism and Cynicism
Note: I actually didn’t kill Harkun in my first play-through? But it’s much more in character for him to, isn’t it.