"I did not have tea with Cthulhu. He had tea. I just sat there having an aneurysm."
I set the freighter down next to one of the countless ziggurats that covered the landscape like zits on an unhygienic teenager's face. Blessedly, the jungle of Dromund Kaas had been cleared of the worst of the trees around it, making it easy to clumsily land my ship.
Of course, why this patch of the jungle had been cleared around the ziggurat tomb of a long-dead Sith was beyond me. It was not a matter of respect; I was familiar enough with the Sith character to know that much. Maybe it was a convenient way of training their bomber crews?
Actually, there was a non-zero chance that was exactly the reason.
Sighing deeply, I tried and failed to get rid of the disappointment in Sith society that had returned with a vengeance. Digging around my clothes, I pulled out a horribly wrinkled and slightly smelly fabric mask and donned it before leaving my ship. It had been too valuable to destroy out of hand and was a key part of my publicly known identity.
A handy precaution, now that I was meeting a member of the Dark Council.
The boarding ramp to my ship lowered, slowly revealing the Sith Lord and his entourage. Just one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, half a dozen junior Sith arrayed behind him, what looked to be two full platoons of soldiers patrolling the edge of the forest, while a team of chefs worked furiously in a high-class portable kitchen unit. Complete with a walk-in freezer equipped with repulsor lifts.
The most senior member of my department in the Sith Empire did not stand to greet me. He did not even turn his head to look at me. He had barely even let his eyes drift over here as a multi-ton vehicle of potential mass destruction disgorged the man responsible for its almost acceptable landing. No, this man remained seated at what looked like a picnic table as I approached, engrossed in whatever bit of news he was reading on his datapad.
No, scratch that. It was a picnic table laden with pastries, snacks, and even a bottle of local wine.
A power move, I had realized before I had even made it halfway to the table. He had arranged for this whole meeting to look and feel like I had come to him at his request instead of ambushing me as I landed. Something to put me on the back foot and maintain the ever-vital image of supremacy.
What a shame that it was utterly wasted on one such as me; I knew I was at the bottom of the pecking order in terms of strength, power, connections… just about everything that mattered, save for a talent for self-delusion. I was closer to the middle of the pack for that one.
"Darth Ravage," I greeted the man as soon as I stood in front of him.
He did not immediately answer. Before anything else, he poured himself a generous cup of wine. With his hands, not using the Force at all. He poured a second one, too, though he kept both on his side of the table. Only then did he choose to give me an appraising glance.
"Nestor," Darth Ravage greeted me after a moment's pause. The man looked like he was in his late thirties, judging by his lined face and full head of hair. Of course, the cybernetics covering the cheekbones of his narrow face might have had an impact, and the usage of the Force definitely had had an impact. Point is, the man was older than I. And a middle-aged Sith Lord was more dangerous than average. "I seem to recall you being better dressed on Chembau."
And right down to the veiled insult. Or just an observation that could be interpreted as a veiled insult.
"I took a detour," I said simply, choosing not to respond to the verbal barb. There was a very good chance he could tell if I lied, so I did not even try. No, I was going to tell the truth. From a certain point of view, at least. "Needed to ditch the nice outfit. I come as requested, my lord."
"So you do," Ravage allowed, staring at me rather intently. Trying to get a read on me, no doubt. Specifically on my mind. A shame that I had been thinking in a language that did not exist in this galaxy. "I do hope you're pleased with yourself."
"Self-satisfaction helps boost confidence," I said, trying not to think about the non-sequitur from the Sith Lord in front of me. "In our line of work, that tends to be helpful."
"You don't know, do you?" Ravage asked. This time, I could not quite keep the confusion from my mind. A mistake, that; He could have picked up on that quite easily. Emotions and states of being were hardly language-exclusive. "Of course not. You disappeared for a week. How could you know of the matter of the late Lord Egatio's estate?"
"His estate?" I asked. Discussing someone's inheritance was usually not something you wanted to go beyond the matter of 'how much?', if at all. "As in inheritance? Did his will involve some oddly worded terms and conditions?"
"A will," Ravage repeated the words back to me, shaking his head as he did so. "Preparing a will… for all your accomplishments, I forget that you are still new to proper Sith society. Wills are for those without the power to take for themselves."
Darth Ravage focused his eyes on me again. Eyes, I idly noted, lacked the corruption of the Dark Side. Instead, they were an unnervingly dark blue.
"Egatio's former apprentices killed each other over his meager possessions," he revealed, his tone remarkably casual. "His widow killed the survivor. A covetous rival took her down. The same scene replayed thrice more for the other Sith killed on the Chembau expedition, give or take a step or four."
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked. That- that had to be a lie. There was no way even Sith society could be that suicidally stupid. Belatedly, I realized just why the Little Jedi had been so quick to help me. No doubt she had known that killing four Sith would lead to the deaths of several more through no action of her own.
Clever girl.
Not that I would ever tell her that, but now I felt a bit less guilty about involving her.
"Do not interrupt me, Nestor," he warned me. "Recall that one of the Sith that died on the expedition to Chembau was Darth Thur, my direct subordinate. He had five Sith Lords reporting to him. Two of the five died on Chembau. Another died trying to claim Thur's title. The apprentices of Elso and Thur were also killed."
Yeesh, this was worse than the squabble after my great-uncle died. Except that had involved contradictory wills, verbal agreements, and an uncle deciding he really liked the dead man's grater. In hindsight, it had been a hilarious situation. This situation, by contrast, was a bit heavier on depressing and lighter on hilarious.
"Do you know what this means?" Ravage asked.
"That there are two Sith on the planet who want me on their side to strengthen their claim to being Darth Thur's true heir?"
"Or they might kill you to eliminate a potential rival."
I wanted to point out that I was no threat to anyone. Or an overreaction. Or to doubt the veracity of the report.
"That seems unlikely," is what I said instead.
"Everyone in the Sith hierarchy between you and me is dead," he pointed out. "If you had more experience, you might very well have been elevated to Darth. Then again, if you were more experienced, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Oh no. No no no no. I had no desire to speedrun being an automatic addition to the next war crime tribunal docket by rank alone.
"There's no chance I just sit back and get apprenticed to whoever wins the succession struggle, is there?" I asked.
"Nestor, you brought a planet into the Empire," Ravage pointed out. "And got five other Sith killed in the process, three of them senior Lords or higher. If I don't have you promoted, every other Sith Lord in the Empire will see that as an insult to their station and they will start to have ideas."
"I'm a glorified key, then," I surmised. "The key to taking the place of my former master's superior."
"Welcome to politics," he said. "And if I may, I would suggest you pick a side and join them before they find you. And do hurry; I informed the would-be heirs of your location before you landed."
Oh fuck no.
Except…
No.
I could do this.
I could make this work.
"Sounds like I still have a bit of time," I said idly. Whatever other Sith were looking for me or looking for me, they needed time to get here. They needed time to get ready to leave. They had to finish whatever other business they were working on when they got the information. Until then, it was in my best interest to not be too bothered by this. "You wouldn't happen to know what happened to my luggage, my lord?"
...
Hey guys I would really appreciate it if you could throw some power stones to help elevate the ranking.
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