With a firm grip of his opposing hand on the lithe fingers of Ysanne Isard, Sate Pestage halted their progress forward, just before ascending a short set of double wide stairs leading to the dais Emperor Palpatine resided. “We will wait here presently Madam Director.” He said without turning to her, the gruffness that usually accompanied his statements to her missing completely. Ysanne Isard hadn’t been listening in any event, transfixed as she was upon the occupant of her Emperor’s precious time. The man was unmistakable, even from behind, although the uniform was contrastingly different. A muted blackness from head to toe, officers cap tucked orderly under his elbow about his left side and highly polished service boots that stood unflinching, spoke to the unblemished nature of the man himself. She knew there was conversation taking place but could hear nothing despite their proximity. ‘Another noise cancellation field.’ She suspected, knowing her Emperor would employ them at any given opportunity.
Ysanne could follow along with the conversation through hand gestures and subtle movements despite not knowing what was actually being said. She knew Gideon enough to know it probably had everything to do with Mandalore, ‘how refreshing it will be to have him under the yoke.’ She thought to herself, noting his remarkable record and propensity to complete assignments no matter the cost.
“Ease up Miss Isard, he will be well outside your grasp.” Pestage said, much to her surprise.
‘Am I that easy to read?’ She questioned internally, “Navy now? That’s the play?” She replied, ignoring the frustrating bit of mind reading.
“For now, yes. I am certain rank will aspire to match his own determination however.” Pestage responded. Ysanne continually staring at the exchange through the hushed interaction with the man at her side. “He has succeeded in establishing order within the Sector.”
Ysanne Isard held in the volition to laugh, “Governorship then?” She managed to say, despite the lunacy of such a suggestion.
“Come now Ysanne, the man is your equal in ambition, if not more thorough in his own resolve.” Pestage seemed to derive a certain pleasure as he volleyed his report.
She finally turned her attention away from the exchange and faced the aged Advisor, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re about to get an education…” Pestage replied with a nod toward the approaching Commander.
With hand extended, and newly minted insignia placard placed over his left breast, Jeru Gideon stood before the two of them wearing an indistinguishable grin. He lifted his hand to accept Ysanne’s proffered right, bending low to place a light kiss upon her fingers, “Madam Director, you look positively ravishing tonight.” He alighted with a pleasant tone, his eyes a mystery to her as she felt herself lost in them for the briefest of moments. She let her arm drop awkwardly to her side as he let her hand free and stuttered for something to say, “than...thank you.” She managed, riding the tides of recovery, she continued, “and congratulations on your promotion, it is most unexpected.”
Gideon smiled politely, the corners of his mouth pulling lightly on the dark complexion of his cheeks, “I cannot take all the credit of course, merely the result of another successful mission. It is to the cooperative Mandalorians that most of the credit should be due.”
Ysanne wondered at which point throughout the invention of vocabulary that ‘Mandalorian’ and ‘cooperative’ would be used in the same sentence but shook off the thought quickly. “A truly inspiring connection I am sure, perhaps the details over dinner?”
Gideon maintained the polite smile as he bore his eyes into hers once again, Ysanne fighting the urge to let herself be drawn into them, “perhaps a night, but not this one Madam Director, business to attend to and all.” The impeccable man bowed low through his response to signal his exit and kissed her fingers once again before putting his cap on and winking slyly, “until then, I bid ado.” He said with finality and swept himself from the staircase.
Sate Pestage could not stifle the laugh inside himself, letting the chuckle fill her hearing with its sickly depth, “I believe my dear, sweet, beautiful woman, that you have just been rejected outright.”
Ysanne bit back the multitude of retorts she had ready to unleash as she pulled herself together and ascended the staircase, almost leaving her escort behind her. Although invisible, Ysanne noted the deamplifications effectiveness as she breached its threshold, the clanking, murmurs and forced laughter suddenly arrested from her hearing. With an inexplicable gulp of nerves she continued forward, coming within a handsbreadth of the Galactic Emperor himself. Although his steps were soundless, Ysanne knew the trusted Advisor was directly behind her.
“You are a fool Madam Director.” Palpatine burst forward immediately, barely a trace of facial contortion beneath the deep cowl he wore but for the glowing yellow orbs beneath. Ysanne was prepared for all manner of reprimand but had not expected the greeting so suddenly. She observed as her Emperor nodded ever so slightly just over her shoulder as the background camaraderie faded to a tinted blackness. She was certain her detractors in attendance would notice the conversation becoming so clandestine so quickly. “Even now, your concern betrays you Ms. Isard, it is not they that would perceive to know what is transpiring that should capture your attention, but they do don’t they?”
“My Lord?” Ysanne stood tall before the Emperor, despite the man irrationally conceiving her own agenda without a word uttered.
“I will sidestep the feigned insolence, my Dear, and come straight to the point.” Palpatine strained within the cowl of his finest robes, “Sate. Leave us.” He snapped quickly.
As silently as the man had approached, he departed, Ysanne remaining focused on the deformities of her Emperor’s face as they shifted within the shadows lest she show any signs of mistrust between herself and the man. “Although I understand your reasons Ms. Isard, the nature with which you carry about your business is beneath you.”
‘Coburn...how had the man figured that out so quickly…’ Ysanne thought.
“I know because I make it my business to know. There are procedures and directives for every contrivance you and your colleagues have imagined in efforts to tear each other down.” He paused briefly, turning to the tinted sphere just beyond their conversation. “And then there are those contrivances that are known to all but a few, constructed to strike quickly, from the shadows, and without the need to follow up loose ends.” He continued turning toward her once again, the edges of the cowl hiding the face entirely.
For a long moment Ysanne stood, waiting for either the point or some sign to proceed with the conversation on her own. Inexplicably, her Emperor began to chuckle a sickly tune that began to pluck the strings of fear within her.
“Remember me.” A soft voice whispered into Ysanne’s right ear. It was not a question. It was the same she had encountered within her own Kalari, an individual that had defied the tightest of security measures. Ysanne was tempted to turn on the spot and face the intruder head on, but realized she would then expose her own misgivings, mistrust, and suspicions by turning her back on her Emperor.
“Sometimes, my Dear, there is nowhere to turn.” Palpatine confided as he beat the air with a final throaty chuckle, “my point is only this Ms. Isard, rising to your aspirations takes more than a steady hand and verbal proficiency. You have displayed a penchant for forging your determination beyond any moral sense, and it is to that….to that, my Dear, that you draw breath, however sloppy your methods.”
The message was received with vibrant clarity, Ysanne swallowing the insult outright as she viewed her own actions objectively.
“Fortune may have smiled its favor on your particular endeavor, only with Sylde’s infusion. But both of you gamble much on former Director Audenhoen’s survival.” Palpatine offered his criticism openly and without condemnation.
Ysanne finally found reason to interject, “survival is such a loose term My Lord.”
He turned to her fully, exposing the detritus of his yellowing teeth to what little light there was within the tinted sphere, “..in this case it is just another loose end Ms. Isard, one of two our mutual friend will have to clean up for you.” ‘there’s the insult…’ Ysanne thought to herself, ‘wait...two?’
“The arresting agents Ms. Isard.” He answered her thought again. “They cannot be allowed to draw breath knowing Audenhoen still does.”
“Until we meet again, Ysanne…” The woman whispered gently into Ysanne’s left ear this time, causing the Military Intelligence Director to jump subtly, a nervous twitch extending through her spine as the finite hairs on her arms stood at attention, ‘I forgot she was even here.’ Ysanne thought.
“Exactly why your ambitions cloud your own resolve Ms. Isard.” Palpatine cackled slowly.
“I am not afraid to do what must be done My Lord.” She began refusing to apologize or beg any form of forgiveness.
“Then you will be given the tools to do so efficiently.” Palpatine responded immediately.
“An assassin then?” She thought it worth the gamble to come straight to the point.
“An allegiance.” Palpatine answered, his lips turning upward somewhat with his response.
“I don’t understand My Lord.” Ysanne was being honest, Palpatine assured himself of that particular truth with another invasive probe of his own senses.
“By Imperial decree Ms. Isard, you will be made Director of Imperial Intelligence, and with it, oversight of both branches you have coveted for so long.” He declared, “a proclamation that will be issued forth immediately following this evenings Gala,” he arrested her with his glowing yellow eyes, “and the subsequent end of loose strings…” Palpatine concluded with particular emphasis on the latter.
With a clear understanding of her Emperor’s implications, Ysanne Isard bowed deeply before the man.
“Ms. Isard, you must understand that your actions have pleased me, despite your inability to complete the task in the manner that should have been apparent. I trust there will be further oversight in the future?” All manner of inconvenience or anger gone from his voice.
“None, My Lord.” Ysanne was again as truthful as she could be, doing her best to contain a welling sense of pride and euphoria that were married to his own proclamation. Stamping the emotions in place she looked into the Emperor’s eyes directly, swallowing what apprehension his presence always generated. “Of the loose ends….allow me the opportunity….”
Palpatine raised his left hand, halting her query before she could finish it. “Your determination, again, pleases me, as does your ambition My Lady, but those particular loose ends are already being delt with.” He adopted the closest thing she could relate to a smile within the twisted folds of his deformed face. “Return to the Gala Ms. Isard, enjoy what has been bestowed.” He offered pleasantly, “and make sure that you are seen.” He finished with another muted cackle and dismissive gesture.
Ysanne pleated her dress with both hands, allowing a full courtsey as she bowed before her Emperor and turned slowly to leave, expecting to confront the mysterious source of the gentle whispers. To her surprise all that was waiting for her was Sate Pestage at the edge of the tinted sphere, its own darkness transitioning to complete translucence once again. She half turned toward the Emperor a final time and smiled before leaving the dais entirely and placing her hand in Sate’s once again.
✦
“This is the last thing I thought we would have been doing today Tompke.” Grees said, stripping his armor off after Alpha unit were given orders to stand down for the day, transferring active duty to Beta for the night. He placed his helmet upon the rack designated for his armor alone as he pulled off his cuirass and began meticulously polishing it, working the well-used cloth into the tightest internal crevasses.
“Give it a rest Grees, treason isn’t contagious.” Kaves stated from his bunk as he placed his boots beneath his own rack, “besides he wasn’t even in your armor.”
“Treason isn’t contagious? Tell that to our brothers lost on DS1…” Grees replied beside himself with contempt.
“You know what I mean smartass…” Kaves replied as he stood to make his way to the facilities wash rooms.
“All of you stow it. It’s been a rough day for all of us, but tomorrow will come quickly enough. Get washed up and sack out.” Tompke ordered his men, stowing his own emotions in the small compartment he had erected for personal feelings, regret, and sorrow, vowing to unpack it all ‘someday.’
“Make sure you clean everywhere Kaves, you don’t know where that man has been…” Grees offered, recovering from his brief flash of anger.
“More polished places than you’ll ever see I am sure Grees.” Kaves returned before disappearing into the brightly lit rooms adjacent.
Kaves shook his head as he approached one of the many mirrors within the wash room, looking directly at the strained lines forged deeply into his brow the day’s events had created. ‘I didn’t sign up for this.’ He thought to himself as he choked his own emotions into complete submission. The lights blinked through random intervals of minimized power several times, creating a false darkness between each burst that tugged violently against his own volition to stem any sense of emotion outright. Although uncommon, the power surges did happen on occasion, so he dismissed it and turned his attention to the water tap and small cloth he brought with him.
Bent over the bowl of his sink as he cleaned the days grime away from the strained muscles of his neck, he heard an almost inaudible creak from his left. Turning his head slightly toward the anomaly, he saw the room’s door, that was always chocked open, closing into its frame bereft of any further sounds. He lifted his head to inspect the oddity as the lights flashed through another cadence of bright flashes, illuminating the entirety of the room in blinding incandescence that began to steal at his peripheral vision. A shuffle of what sounded like footsteps to his left caused him to whirl completely, his back to the mirror. Some form of movement to his left caused him to turn once again, then another to his right. “Is that you Chenik?” He whispered, the blinking lights becoming more erratic with longer dark pauses.
“Only in your dreams.” The voice was sultry to Kaves’ ears, similar enough to the olive skinned Chenik’s to ease his mind and release his growing fear.
“Show yourself you harlot…” Kaves’ whispered echoes sounded from every corner of the completely tiled room, each white slab stabbing at his eyes through the reflection in their polish.
“Turn around if you desire such things.” The soft return whisper began singing to the man as he was helpless to do anything but. His mind was a machine devoid of control, certain portions forcing his body to comply, while others did their best to stop him outright, sending warnings he couldn’t translate. “I said turn around Kaves…” The voice became so intoxicating, so alluring that the man could no longer resist at all, turning fully to face the mirror once again. “It is just us Kaves...we are alone, and in the dark.” The voice continued, Kaves completely helpless to ignore the beauty of the song within it. He half closed his eyes to the expectant ecstasy as the lights blinked out altogether, proving the voice prophetic. The warning portions of his mind strived to relay the fact that Chenik was in the other room, that this wasn’t her voice, but the melodies that sang within the whispered voice were far too powerful to ignore.
Kaves felt his body waver slightly and extended a slow arm out to the sinks basin to brace himself only to have his knees betray him as they buckled briefly. ‘It isn’t Chenik...it isn’t Chenik…’ his mind screamed its warning, but the soft warm fingers on his lower back denied him the capacity to listen. He felt those fingers trace their tips directly up his spine, slowly and with purpose before they traced the outlines of his scapula and continued over his broad shoulders. Kaves was helpless to whatever spell this woman had conjured, completely encapsulated within her suggestion, and entranced with her sensual touch.
The woman spent precious second after second tracing her finger tips slowly across his neck, eliciting a calming wave that spread throughout him with the intent to stoke a manufactured passion he couldn’t explain. She slowly tickled at the stubble of days growth along his jaw line as she continued toward his chin and mouth, spending an inordinate amount of time outlining his lips in particular. ‘I could die right now and not have felt better about this moment.’ Kaves thought to himself, bereft of the warnings his mind had tried to infer.
“If that is your wish…” The soft voice whispered lightly, its owners’ hands clamped tightly over his mouth, far too much strength for anything save a Wookie.
Kaves felt the moment that ecstasy was replaced by complete fear, the helpless second when everything that mattered no longer did. The only moment in time he could confer the most basic of his darkest desires, his most dreaded nightmares, and his very definition of alive. He could feel a terrible heat on his back just above his waist before he heard the ignition that signaled his doom. A sound he only read about and had never witnessed, coupled with a sensation that could only be described through metaphors and analogy. The air was sucked from the room central to the heats source then just as quickly expelled in the opposing direction with a loud release of energy that echoed briefly through the room. Similar to the addition of a secondary power cell in his own E11-D, he knew the implement was anything but before the sensation of heat turned into intense pain.
The hand over his mouth prevented the scream he knew was sure to come, the intensity of the heat and pain pushing through his internal organs as it severed tendon, bone, and intestine before pouring out of his stomach in a lively magenta hue. He could only look down to see the magnificence of the energy blade slice into the mirror and fracture it before his eyes, then turn his head ever slowly to the left to explore a light that was every expanding as someone was entering the room. ‘Someone will avenge….’ his thought only turned into a vast mire of gibberish as all feeling throughout his body was stolen from him, and with a final jerk of the woman’s hand, his collapsing sight painted the image of his robed and cowled assassin, a solitary red lock of hair dangled precariously over the porcelain perfection of her face, his own head twisted brutally one hundred eighty degrees from where it should have been.
“What!” Was all Grees could say as he pushed open the door of the washrooms, wondering initially why it have been closed, then why the lights were off. Kaves stood awkwardly before the basin, clutching with desperation to its riveted roots, his toes pushing against the tiled flooring with a robed arm stretched across his massive shoulders. The dark room bathed in a glowing shade of pink he had never seen before. It only took a second for Grees to realize the pink source of light was an energy beam protruding from his comrades’ stomach, and then another to watch the man’s head twist quickly to the tune of sickly snapping and tortured pings of broken bones. The energy blade swiftly ripped through the remainder of the man’s torso before its owner turned its attention on him.
Grees had no time to react before the blade had traveled the meter between them with a vicious cross that severed his torso from his waist diagonally, both halves of the man slumping to the floor with orchestrated chaos, the robed woman stepping over them without mercy. Tompke, at the door’s edge, met his fate next purely out of proximity as she slashed with blinding speed completely through his neck, his body remaining in its seated position upon his bunk as the muscles reacted with instantaneous contraction. The woman bent low to avoid incoming blaster fire, putting enough distance between herself and the bolts to somersault into the next of the nine remaining troopers, severing ankle from leg before whirling three hundred sixty degrees in a majestic swirl of her over cloak, pinning the blade squarely into his chest and remorselessly through the side of his rib cage.
Standing fully erect, the assassin absorbed a volley of chaotic shots from differing angles in the room, sending two back into their sources from the edge of her deadly weapon with sudden cauterized effectiveness. The shock on their faces noted only for the second it took her to reposition herself in front of, then directly behind another of the troopers. The names didn’t matter anymore, only the objective. She forced the stumbling man forward against his chaotic throes of all-encompassing fear and let him absorb bolt after bolt from his unit, each causing the man to spasm his body involuntarily long after death had claimed him.
Two of the armor less troopers made for the bunk rooms exit, banging against the durasteel panel after realizing the actuator wasn’t responding. The assassin deflected three more bolts, another finding its source as she focused an internal rage on the two trying to escape. With an outstretched hand, she began denying one of them precious air, his attention switching quickly between the ineffective door and noncompliance with his own internal organs. Ignoring her own fascination in watching the life die slowly from the man, she closed her outstretched fingers into a tightly wrapped fist. The accompanying sound of crunching bone and torn flesh quickly proceeded the thump his body made when it hit the flooring of the room. Without mercy, she turned her attention to the second of the two and pulled her hand quickly toward her, the body of the flailing woman, screaming in deserved fear to the trills of blaster fire as it echoed around the room, sped quickly toward the assassin, met quickly by the unmoving blade in her right hand, the screams dying as quickly as she had with a mortal slash through her heart and lungs. ‘Chenik?’ The assassin thought with a certain measure of amusement.
Only two remained as they both disarmed themselves, the clatter of their E11-D’s eliciting the assassin’s attention briefly. She stared at the weapons as they came to a stop, looking up slowly to see their owners trembling madly with deserved fear, neither of them focused on her directly.
“Why?” One of them asked meekly, the nervous twitch within the terror-stricken voice asked. The assassin didn’t possess the patience required to care enough to answer and slowly closed the three-meter distance between them with deadly silent footsteps. Without thought, she ripped her blade through each with a magnificent pirouette slashing a perfect radial arc through both from neck to waist. She stepped forward to inspect her handiwork briefly as she deactivated her saber and attached it slowly to her waist.
With the pressing scent of ozone, carbon discharge and cooked flesh, the assassin reached both hands into pouches at her waist and pulled twin thermal detonators into her grasp. She surveyed the room a final time, ensuring that the inevitable explosions and torrent fires would only consume deceased bodies in their incinerating embrace. As the choking haze of blaster fire was consumed by the chugging air scrubbers inlaid into the bunk room’s ceiling, Tompke’s body finally fell from its headless perch atop its own bunk, thumping to the floor with assured finality. The assassin only casually looked to the body’s final resting place before activating the detonators and tossing them to the floor. She walked with a casual grace to the durasteel door and flung it open quickly with an open left hand, exited the carnage within and just as quickly slammed the door shut. “Why?…..Orders.” She said to herself as she began to run toward the opened venting duct with which she entered.
✦
Alexsandr Kallus had completely lost all control of his facial expressions, the features running through their own chaotic series of surprise, disbelief, and astonishment. His eyes bulging from his skull and his mouth hanging agape, he worked his brain to put together something resembling speech… “Whaaa Hwww!” Was all he could manage.
Areti took the cue and entered the exact same question on her keypad, misspelling everything as badly as he had.
‘Nooo TTTiimmee. WAAllllkrrrr rubbbbble. Audddeeeooo….ppppleee.’ Came the confusing reply.
Areti was uncertain what the first portion was to represent but understood the second as she ripped the cords from her headset and quickly snatched her data pad from its resting place on her work space. She fired the protective cover off the back and placed the cord from her headset onto the exposed terminal, “Sandr, hand me that tool, quick!” She snapped, holding the frayed wires just over the audio input and output port. Kallus moved with a speed that surprised him as he placed the hot end of the soldering tool against both metallic surfaces. Areti blew hard on the contact then tugged at the handiwork quickly before flipping the data pad back over and enabling two-way communications, “Hedala...N’dali?”
“Yeyyeess.” Came the reply, a motley assortment of electronic interference that was partially laced with a confusing static.
“That doesn’t sound like her Areti…” Kallus had the presence of mind to acknowledge.
Areti was caught between her own rational senses and the wonder of what could be transpiring before her. ‘This isn’t possible.’ She thought to herself.
“Cooonsrn lattaater….Aaaudennnhhhmme trobu.” The chaotic mess said again.
“Audenhoen?” Areti hoped she guessed correctly.
“Yyyessss.” The voice sounded more like a voice, although neither of them considered it to be N’dali’s. “Trubbbl…” It continued.
“He’s on Coruscant...what can we possibly do from here?” Kallus responded, his thoughts an array of bewilderment.
“Fffoooloowww.” The static was startlingly lessened as the source became a little bit clearer.
‘She’s working pitch, amplitude and frequency simultaneously.’ Kallus thought as his attention was drawn to the upper left screen with a flash and sudden feed of the man who had once been his compatriot sitting on the floor of a dark dirty room. He promptly tapped Areti’s shoulder. She looked up to see the same image, the man unmoving through the highly pixelated feed. Before either of them could register any level of reaction, scrolling text occupied the space directly beneath the feed, detailing the exact location they were currently viewing.
“Judicial Detention Center, lower levels I would wager looking at the amount of disuse.” Kallus read the scrolling script aloud.
“Level D-4.” Areti began where Kallus left off, “Thats as subterranean as that place gets.”
“He’s been arrested?” Kallus asked aloud, turning his attention partially to the data pad.
“Yyesss. Nooo seeentin. Terrrrminaaat immmmdeia.” Came the response neither of them was expecting.
“They’re going to kill him?? We need to get him out of there!!” Areti rose from her chair, almost dropping the data pad in the process.
“Alllreeedii wwwrrrknngg oon ttthaat….sttttannn Pppieee.”
Kallus stared at the image of the motionless man, seated centrally to the debris, and refuse of untold neglect and detritus. The rust tearing the walls apart visible through the feed. ‘No man should die like that…’ He thought to himself, inexplicably hungry.
“This is insane!” Areti broke his attention as she scanned her workspace frantically.
Kallus placed reassuring hands on each of her shoulders, “This is where faith becomes your strongest ally Areti, where hope is born.” He said without taking his eyes from the screen above them both. He could feel her relax somewhat under his grip as she began to sob silently, hoping it was from a position of faith rather than an incurable loss of hope altogether.