This chapter was so long I decided to cut it in half. I know that makes this one a little bit short, and the next one’s still pretty long, but it doesn’t split well anywhere else. We’re almost ready to rock and roll, though.
EDIT: Changed Ziost to Commenor, it makes more sense in the long run.
Part 22: Virus
Part 23: Idealism and Cynicism
Kallig vanished off the ship at some point that day, and Pyron did not see or hear from him for eight days afterwards. He’d begun to feel abandoned – had the Sith decided the 44th wasn’t worth the effort? – but one evening he returned to his quarters to find the young man sitting in one of his chairs, reading one of his books. “My lord.”
“Admiral,” said Kallig, looking up in casual acknowledgement. “How is work?”
“Same as ever, my lord,” Pyron said blandly. Still unsatisfying, pointless, and degrading. And he waited, at parade rest, for Kallig’s next words, though he had to admit he was hoping he would fill him in on where he’d been.
Kallig sighed almost imperceptibly. “I can feel your curiosity from here. Yes, I visited High Command. Bilsane may not know it yet, but he’s about to find himself terribly exposed.” He paused for a minute. “It’s awfully tempting to simply stealth up to his room and murder him, but then no one will believe that I earned my right to command this fleet.”
“You simply visited…” Kallig did like to talk in riddles.
Kallig tilted his head sardonically. “Come now, Admiral. I can’t simply tell you all my plans. You can’t accidentally – or purposefully – betray me if you don’t know anything. Why are you still standing there? Sit down, have a drink.” A tumbler and a crystal decanter of cognac floated over from his counter at Kallig’s careless wave. Pyron sat across from him, trying not to look impressed as the glass poured itself, and accepted it. “But I can say, yes, I simply talked to High Command. Individually. With various persuasions. It’s not a big deal what I want, after all, is it? Just to let them know that Bilsane is not as valuable as they thought he was. Or what I had to offer them.”
That sounded like he really didn’t want to know what had gone on, whether it was diplomacy, bribery, blackmail… mind control… or some combination thereof. Kallig was devious, for one so young. “Then we shall proceed as previously determined?”
“Yes, more or less. Though the more drama, the better – the Dark Council loves a show, even if High Command doesn’t.” He made an annoyed noise. “We’ll see if they’re a better audience than my usual one.” He flinched and grunted, as if in pain; his hands flexed into claws for a moment before relaxing again. “I wasn’t talking about you, shut up.” When Pyron blinked in confusion, he shook his head. “Not you either. You may speak.”
Pyron suddenly remembered he had alcohol in his hand and took a sip. He had no love for drama, himself; battle was dramatic enough, and he burned to serve in that arena alone. But this was not the time to hold anything back from Kallig, even if something was a little… off. “Then I have something you may find useful.”
“What’s that?”
“The 44th has been working on a fleet-killer vessel; we’ve code-named it-”
“The Silencer,” Kallig said, and Pyron blinked in surprise. “Yes, I know about it. But thank you for telling me.”
That was supposed to be top-secret; only Bilsane, Pyron, and a couple of the other destroyer captains even knew the project existed. Truly, Kallig’s intelligence gathering was incredible – and terrifying.
“I’m pleased to know it exists, but at the moment it’s not done, so I can’t factor it into my plans yet.”
“Yes, we’ve been having trouble finding a good manufacturer for the targeting computer hardware,” Pyron said. “Which may be partly my fault.” A big gun was useless if it couldn’t be aimed accurately, after all, so he’d done everything he could in secret to block development. The particular type of chip required was illegal in the Republic, and only permitted under certain circumstances in the Empire. Bilsane couldn’t even vent in public about the problems with specifications and delivery, but he knew the rage was there, probably making his pre-existing behaviour even worse.
“I’ve already taken that into consideration,” Kallig said. “By the time Bilsane is out of the way, I’ll have the CN-12 ready. I’ve already put my research people on it.”
He supposed he oughtn’t to be surprised at Kallig anymore. That if he’d already learned of Project Silencer, he also knew of its problems and how to fix them. “I had a question, if I may.”
“Go ahead, Admiral.”
“You are intending to have me promoted to Moff, yes?” There was always the chance this was all an elaborate trap, and Kallig would dispose of him once he’d seized control of the fleet – but, no, his own record was too good for that, Kallig was no fool. The real fear was that he was falling prey to a bigger fish that he would be even more incompatible with. But only time would tell.
“Yes, of course. Go on…”
“Then as your… future subordinate, I’d like to inquire as to what you intend with the 44th.”
“A good question,” Kallig said, the skull-like mask regarding him contemplatively. “I can’t say too much, of course, but… beyond fighting Thanaton, assuming we all survive? I’m an ally of Lord Laskaris, and my becoming an active participant in the military would put us on an even footing. Laskaris and I work well together and I’d like to continue the relationship. With me as his strategist, and him as my captain, and our forces in concert, no one can stand against us.”
“You’re quite the idealist,” Pyron commented, after another soothing mouthful of cognac. Understandable, given his apparent age.
Kallig twitched indignantly. “I’m not an idealist. I’m a cynic.”
“They are not mutually exclusive, my lord.”
Kallig shrugged. Apparently it wasn’t worth arguing about to him.
“I believe you will make the Empire stronger and better,” Pyron said. If he went around eliminating men like Bilsane…
And Kallig laughed, a deep, dark, sad laugh with notes of utter desolation in it, his head in his hands, fingertips tense as if he were trying to press through the mask. But when he turned back to Pyron, his voice was normal again. “I’m glad you think so.” He hesitated, then shook his head and stood. “That’s enough for now. Let me give you your orders.”
“Yes, my lord.” Pyron stood as well.
“Without seeming to incite mutiny, of course… ascertain that the captain of every ship in this fleet will follow you, and by extension, me, once the takeover occurs. Certainly I expect most of them will follow Bilsane’s orders while he is still alive… though they don’t yet know his orders aren’t worth the air they’re huffed on. I particularly need the Implacable and the Doombringer. Any dissent, no matter how insignificant the dissenter, inform me of. You have five days.”
Five days until his life changed.
Five days to speak, somehow, to every ship’s captain in a way that would not incite suspicion and come to a tacit understanding without being able to explain. This was going to be complicated.
“All right, here’s the plan,” Murlesson said to his team on the Viper. His ship was docked on a space station orbiting Cassander; he had smuggled himself out of the Acrimonious easily and had a two hour window to smuggle himself back on again. “Drellik, Ashara, Xalek, you are going to Commenor to meet up with some allies I’ve sent there. If Bilsane is threatening Pyron’s family, he’s certainly got them under close surveillance, with forces in the area capable of following through.” Else Pyron would have moved them himself long ago.
“Hostages are only as good as long as you know where they are,” Revel said, nodding. You really should make more use of them. They work wonders.
“I need you to set out immediately; it’s four days to Commenor. My allies will be there in one day so you can use their reconnaissance but I’ll still need some time to plan based on the intel you both gather.”
Ashara put up a hand. “Who are these allies and how do we meet them?”
Murlesson hesitated. “I suppose you could call one of them… an old friend.”
“Didn’t know you had old friends,” Revel teased, and shrugged when Murlesson turned his mask in his direction. That person is not a friend; he’s a simpleton who was kind to you briefly because you were so pitiful.
“What’s important is I’ve paid them enough to be trustworthy. I’ll give you their contacts before you leave. I’m giving you the Viper to get there; Ashara, you’re flying.”
“Got it!” She wasn’t the best pilot by her own admission, but all he needed was for them to get there in one piece, and she could handle a navicomputer. Which was more than Xalek could say, and Drellik wasn’t a pilot either. Why would you trust your woman with your ship? She’ll destroy it. Never trust your mate, especially an impulsive one. Or your children…
He talked over the senile family man babbling in his ear. “Your objective is to extract the family – wife, two adult children and spouses, and two grandchildren – simultaneously with my efforts to take over the fleet. Too early and Bilsane will be tipped off; too late and we lose the family – and Pyron’s support with them. Take them off-planet as quickly as possible; your destination doesn’t matter, as I’ll be done before you could reach another planet. Drellik, you’re the first point of contact, you’re an Imperial uniform and therefore easy for them to trust. They will have been prepared for your arrival.” It would be fantastic if the civilians did not turn out to be the fulcrum for the entire plan, but until he knew for certain, the more reinforcements he could place in the area without arousing suspicion, the better. Naga Sadow had often left little or no defences on his bases while engaging in all-out attacks on his enemies. Murlesson’s bases were not in danger, but he was foregoing personal back-up in favour of the weak link in his plan.
“I understand, my lord!” Drellik said, smiling. “It helps that I’m not even slightly intimidating too, I suppose!” He certainly isn’t. How I hate him!
“What do we do with the family after?” Xalek asked.
“Return them home,” Murlesson said. Was that not obvious?
“Do you not wish to keep them under your control the way this Moff did?”
“Xalek!” Ashara said, shocked.
He thought it was a perfectly reasonable question. “I thought about it, but it’s not worth the effort.” Automated surveillance would be enough. Pyron was too honourable to doublecross him, but in the event that his trust were misplaced after all, he would have time to counter. In the present, he would settle for ‘proving himself better than Bilsane’. You’re a fool, you should keep a tight hold of them. No one need know until it’s necessary to flex it. Because it will inevitably be necessary…
“Murlesson!” Ashara turned her disapproval on him and he gave her a “what” gesture. Apparently she didn’t like the fact that he’d even thought about it. What did she want from him!? She folded her arms, and he ignored her to continue the briefing.
“Khem, Revel, I need you here to infiltrate the fleet when the operation begins. You will ensure that the Implacable and the Doombringer follow my commands.”
<They will obey or die,> Khem said.
“How will they know to obey you?” Revel asked. “It’s not like you have a ton of prestige in the military yet and while I can just shoot people until they start paying attention, I have the feeling you want something else.” And now you’re relying on a pirate and a brute to enact military oversight.
“Pyron is taking care of that,” Murlesson said. “It’s risky; I don’t trust them yet, but he trusts them – or so I assume. I need them to be ready to neutralize the Reprisal in case her captain decides not to conform. But don’t tell them that until the last minute. I need to have to chance to prime them with noble words about not wanting to kill our Imperial brothers but the necessity being upon us.”
“That may be slightly melodramatic, but appreciated,” Drellik said.
“Melodramatic works,” Murlesson said, shrugging. Melodrama is the hallmark of an immature Sith; it’s truly unfortunate they’re found at all levels of government nowadays. In my day, this would not work! In my day we would have to kill everyone, and we liked it. Oh, how we liked it. “Shut up, I’m not Volkova. Is everyone clear?”
“Yep,” Revel said. They all seemed to understand when he was yelling at the people in his head by now, thank frak.
“Ready to go!” Ashara said. “Get off my ship!” How dare she order you, even in jest. Punish her!
He snorted a short laugh, grunted in pain immediately afterwards. “Khem, Revel, we’re stowing away in supply shuttles. Ashara, I’ll get you that contact frequency.”
Pyron had spoken too soon on the complications of the situation. He arrived on the Acrimonious’s bridge the next day, Kallig ahead of him and already ensconced in the same corner he’d lurked in before.
He’d only been on station for an hour before there was a murmur from the back of the bridge, and he turned to observe the disturbance with detachment – intending to perhaps order the crew to quell the noise – and froze in alarm. There was a woman entering the bridge, a human woman all in black with a lightsaber on her belt. He couldn’t help his eyes flickering nervously to Kallig’s corner – Kallig was gone. That was good, at least. He didn’t know how and it wasn’t important.
“Huh,” said the woman, striding past him right up to the front viewport. “It’s not very impressive. This is going to be dull, isn’t it?”
She was a Sith, she’d walked straight past security as if she was supposed to be there, but there was nothing in his daily briefing about a Sith – there had been a report of a ship docking late the previous night, but the manifest hadn’t said anything about a Sith-!
She glanced at him. “What’s your problem? Admiral Pyron, wasn’t it?”
“Admiral Pyron, attend to your duties!” Bilsane snapped from further back.
“I’m talking,” the Sith said to Bilsane, who shut up in the face of the sudden shrill steel. That was a little bit satisfying.
“Ah, nothing is the matter, my lord.” He schooled his face back to professional blankness, tried to blank his mind as well. “I was simply not informed of your arrival, and I apologize for my lack of decorum.”
“Whatever,” she said, turning back to observe the fleet.
Then she turned back to him again. “Yeah, you seem weirdly agitated.” She smirked without any real emotion in it, pushing her hood back to reveal long straight black hair with a bright green streak on her left side. “What’s the matter, scared of Sith?”
Was it so strange to be unsettled in this situation? “If it’s not impertinent, may I ask your name, my lord?”
“I guess. Lord Cressinth, apprentice to Darth Thanaton, yadda yadda.” She sighed and examined her green-painted fingernails, picked at a hangnail. “He’s stationed me here since some kid might try and attack the 44th or something. I don’t know what he’s all worked up about, but I guess I’ll be in command until further notice. Isn’t that right, Bilsane?”
“Absolutely, my lord,” Bilsane said, in the most ingratiating way possible. “Lord Cressinth will be here indefinitely, so pay her your utmost respect!”
“Yeah, so, like, whatever. Even if this kid does show up, it’s not going to change much.” She yawned. “I guess I’ll try and have fun.”
Well… now it was complicated. He was suddenly glad Kallig hadn’t told him much. He still had to arrange this mass briefing without Lord Cressinth looking over his shoulder.
But perhaps there was actually an opportunity there. Lord Cressinth might have handed him the very key to his little problem. “Lord Cressinth, Moff Bilsane, did you just say we are under threat of attack?”
“The danger is negligible, not with Lord Cressinth here,” Bilsane said. “We will continue operations as normal.”
Cressinth shrugged. “It’s just some kid. He’s, like, twelve. Sure, he hasn’t died yet, and Thanaton’s really pissed about it, but even if he makes it here, that’s what I’m here for. He doesn’t have ships of his own, so relax, you’re not in any danger of having to fight for your lives in a space battle or anything.” She looked at him through half-lidded almond-shaped dark eyes. “I guess he might try to replace you, Admiral, and Bilsane’s already aware of the danger, but don’t worry about it. I’ll stop him.” Although somehow her attitude did not inspire confidence that she would be concerned if she failed.
“Kallig doesn’t stand a chance,” Bilsane put in.
“Kallig, my lord, sir?” Pyron asked politely. “Who is this Kallig?”
“Ugh,” Cressinth groaned. “He made Sith Lord a few months ago for, like, I dunno, finding some rare Sith artifacts. He actually blew up part of the Sith Sanctum a couple weeks ago trying to kill Thanaton, and we’re still not sure how he made it out again alive, but even if he’s strong in the Force, he doesn’t have much else to work with. He’s kinda weird, from what I can tell. He doesn’t do normal Sith things; he, like, hides out in caves and stuff. But Thanaton found out he’s been sniffing around the 44th, so here I am.”
“But he is a Sith Lord?” he inquired. “A twelve year old boy?”
“I might have been exaggerating,” she said. “But still young.”
“Pyron, shut up and do your job!” Bilsane barked.
Pyron inhaled and straightened, turning to face his superior. “With all respect, sir, I feel that the fleet ought to be made aware of this Sith. We can all be of service to Lord Cressinth in being fully vigilant against any threat he poses.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Cressinth said, waving at him. “Sounds good to me.”
Actually, it sounded like she didn’t care, but Moff Bilsane was now stuck trying to figure out how to interpret the situation.
Pyron didn’t intend to give him time to do so. “Then I shall go and arrange a briefing at once. By your leave, my lord, sir.”
“Hold on,” Cressinth said, still examining her nails. “I’ll come with you.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“It’s done, my lord,” Pyron said that evening, alone in his quarters with Kallig, who had been there when he arrived. It had been difficult to be subtle enough, concerned as he was with Cressinth’s potential ability to read his mind as she hovered nearby all day, but he’d harped on about ‘duty’ and ‘honour’ and ‘maintaining discipline no matter what’. Once things actually began to happen, those loyal to the Empire would remember those words and follow him. He’d managed to arrange one-on-one meetings with the captains of the Implacable, the Infernal, the Doombringer, and the Malevolence as well, and they were in grim accord with him. They would follow Kallig once he gave the word.
“Good,” Kallig said, but he seemed distracted. “That woman I didn’t foresee.”
“Will she be a problem?” Pyron asked.
Kallig shook his head, pacing in that hunched-over way he had. “I can take her out. It just means more drama, and like I said before, that’s a good thing. I’m leaving tonight to ensure preparations are complete, so you can stop wigging out whenever she walks into a room.”
He’d thought he’d hid his tension rather well, especially once he’d gotten over his surprise, but Sith were uncanny, and Kallig most of all. “I will try, my lord.”
Kallig wasn’t listening, perhaps, for some reason? “What the hell is your problem!? …I’d like to see you do better. If you hate it so much, you’re free to leave at any time… …Shut up. …Shut up!” He suddenly reeled to the side, slamming his head into the wall, leaving a dent.
Pyron lurched forward, a hand outstretched in alarm, trying to stop him, but Kallig was recovering… control, or whatever it was he’d lost for a moment. “Sorry. They’re being belligerent again. Usually I can ignore them pretty well…”
“The… voices in your head?” Pyron asked cautiously.
“Ghosts, to be completely precise,” Kallig wheezed, a hand still pressed against his head as if to dull pain through his mask. He looked sidelong at Pyron, and a mocking chuckle floated out between them. “You’re concerned about my sanity, aren’t you? Joke’s on you – I never had any.”
“My lord,” Pyron protested. Kallig seemed… mostly sane, though it was true this… episode unnerved him a little. Kallig really was very young. Young enough to be his grandson, although his actual grandchildren were still under the age of ten.
“Well, these are your choices now,” Kallig said sardonically. “Cruel or crazy. What’s your poison?”
“I’ll take my chances with you, my lord,” Pyron said. The safe option was to back out immediately, pretend none of this had ever happened, continue working under Bilsane and sink further into the muck of corruption and dishonour. But Kallig had given him too much hope to snuff it all out at once. And if he liked ‘safe’ he’d have retired already.
Kallig chuckled again. “Then you’re a little crazy too. Maybe that’s why I like you.”
This was getting very uncomfortable for him. “I prefer eccentric, myself. But I only hope to return to serving the Empire on the battlefield.”
“And I prefer ‘differently rational’,” Kallig said. “I’ll put that thirst for victory to good use, fear not. Now I must leave before she notices I was ever here.”
“Four days, then,” Pyron said.
“Four days.”