"After careful consideration, the Sith decided to become worse"
The Imperial Citadel on Dromund Kaas was, theoretically, the center of government of the Sith Empire. Every single ministry was headquartered there, Imperial Intelligence was headquartered there, the Empire's favorite contractors had a big office there… if paperwork was the lifeblood of the state, then this was the heart.
And in this metaphor, I was just another drop of cholesterol in the bloodstream. Or perhaps more appropriately, a drop of blood in the cholesterol stream. I was trying to save this place from itself, after all.
Step one in that plan would have involved burning that entire tower of dark metal and stone until it was a red-hot puddle of slag and magma, but it had a few things that I needed right then and there. Most importantly, it had my luggage. My collection of shirts, trousers, coats, and waistcoats, not to mention the few personal mementos I had brought with me when I had been brought into this galaxy without my consent. Though paltry enough to fit inside a single reasonably portable footlocker, it was almost everything that I owned.
And now, at last, I had it back.
If only long enough to change into it in one of the public refreshers and subsequently entrust it to the staff once again. Yes, once I was back in the suit I considered my uniform, I felt far more confident in my chances to turn a deadly inheritance dispute to my advantage. Even if the lightsaber on my hip lacked a vital component or two, it at least felt like I was back in control.
Also dry.
Very dry.
Because it was still raining outside. Because it had not stopped raining since the Sith Empire had been founded here by Vitiate more than a thousand years ago.
Honestly, Dromund Kaas would give an ecologist an aneurysm. A funny aneurysm, granted, followed by an amphetamine-fueled research binge, but an aneurysm, nonetheless.
The other useful thing the Imperial Citadel provided? News. Granted, there were plenty of other places in Kaas City that could do the same, but this place offered a few perks. For one, I was less likely to get shivved while out and about, thanks to the sheer number of witnesses. For two, this was as public a place as existed on this planet. Only a lunatic would go here if he knew two Sith Lords were looking for him.
As in, looking for him. Which in this case meant me.
Naturally, this meant that any report of my rather distinctive presence would be met with caution and suspicion.
And hopefully diplomacy, since the two Sith Lords vying for Darth Thur's former title could hardly start a brawl here without ruffling a lot of feathers. I was all but in public, after all. Any attack on me, while I was surrounded by so many potential witnesses, would only guarantee reprisals against the attacker.
"You," a half-familiar voice called out to me as I stood in one of the more open and unobstructed lounges on the ground floor of the Imperial Citadel. No, more than half-familiar. I knew this voice, if only from a single evening in a dingy Kaas City bar. "Nestor."
And later from a dossier my late master had so generously provided after the fact.
I did not quite turn from the news broadcast detailing the Empire's temporary setbacks in dealing with a number of civil disagreements between the government and governed on the capital planet of this massive nation. Turns out, bringing in a bunch of freshly captured slaves and working them half to death was a bad idea. And then there was Lord Grathan indulging in his particular brand of madness...
"Hello apprentice Natia," I greeted the Sith woman. Like last time, she was wearing the armored red bodysuit that so many Sith considered fashionable these days. "I'm doing well, thank you for asking."
"I didn't." The blonde Sith had not changed in the few weeks since we had met. Still a human, still decidedly undiplomatic, and no doubt still unable to keep up with my liver.
"I am aware," I said. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Planning another night on the town?"
"Don't overvalue yourself," she warned, crossing her arms to glare up at me. Though significantly taller than the Little Jedi, the Sith was still a fair bit shorter than me. "I'm here because you owe me."
"That is news to me," I commented. She was almost certainly full of it. After all, I had made no arrangements or bets with her. If a debt existed, it had been transferred to me. And if debts could be transferred, then my value quite quickly increased. After all, did a change in liabilities not demand an equal change to either equity or assets?
"Don't play coy, you can't do the voice for it," she said. Honestly, that assessment hurt a bit. To imply that something was beyond my abilities… the nerve! "All I know is that two of my allies since childhood are dead, their masters are dead, and you were on their last mission. Oh, and your master is dead, too. What a coincidence."
"You think I killed them?" Technically, I had only been responsible for their deaths. Morally, that was… better? Worse? It certainly wasn't the same as killing them.
Except my master. I was to blame for that death, too, but for entirely different reasons.
"I think you are responsible," she corrected.
My first instinct was to apologize. My second was to apologize in a way that insulted the dead and the idiotic Sith who decided to confront me about this in public. My third instinct?
"You give me too much credit." Instinct three was to deflect. Deflect as much as I could. "Since they were your friends, I'm certain you have read the report. It quite clearly said-"
"I know what it said," she cut me off, clearly keen to remind me that she was not, in fact, anything resembling a diplomat. "I also know that the incident report did not mention you, not even to assign blame."
Oh.
Yeah, that would seem pretty suspicious. Not that I said as much, of course.
"How very odd," I said instead. "So is there a point to this beyond showering me with compliments? Because I must warn you, it will avail you little."
"The point is that you will take responsibility," she said coldly, and I had to do a double take to be sure that I had heard her correctly. Take responsibility? Those not were words I had been prepared to hear in this context. Or ever.
"Bold of you to predict how I am going to act," I commented, trying very hard not to let my reaction color my words. Of course, when dealing with a Force user, simply not reacting was not enough if you could not shield your emotions. And no matter what language you were thinking in, an unpleasant feeling of surprise was still an unpleasant feeling of surprise.
"My, my, that's not surprise I sense, is it?" Suffice it to say, the Sith noticed. "Or is it panic?"
This conversation had gotten significantly less enjoyable in the past five seconds. Par for the course as far as interactions with Sith are concerned, really.
"It is trepidation at what your concept of responsibility is," I corrected. Even if my voice did not show it, I was rather dreading finding out what the Sith meant.
"You cost me two allies," she elaborated, brow furrowing in clear irritation. Was it because I wasn't playing along? "You will take steps to correct that."
"I'm sorry, but resurrection is not in my repertoire of miracles," I countered. Perhaps antagonizing the Sith by playing dumb was not the best idea. Actually, it was almost certainly a terrible idea, but there was a distinct chance it might make her slip up. And she had been rather unnecessarily rude to me, so I felt like I was justified.
All it did was make her sigh with what I could only assume was exasperation.
"I'm offering you an alliance," she finally said, enunciating each word with care.
What?
"You want the person you strongly suspect killed your previous allies to be your ally?" I asked, trying to make sense of it all.
"Finally!" Natia all but shouted. "It's about time you figured it out."
…I really should have tried to abandon the Empire when I had the chance, risk of galactic war be damned.
Taking a deep breath, I extended a hand. Did I trust Natia? No, not at all. However, having even a nominal ally meant people trying to come after me would have to take at least one other factor into consideration.
Also, I rather doubted I could make her go away otherwise.
"Allies, then." Thankfully, the probably not-completely-sane Sith woman took my hand. A handshake later, and I had a non-binding verbal agreement of support whenever it was convenient for the other party.
"Was that so difficult?" she asked.
"Yes," I confirmed, turning my full attention back to the screen. Lord Grathan's little treason was getting an awful lot of coverage, what with all the mercenaries and droids and scientists he was bringing in to fight for his claims. And the official response was... nothing at all. Well, a blockade and sending in wave after wave of apprentices and lesser Sith while regular troops held the line. "Yes, it was."
And just like that, I knew where I was going.
I had some supplies to gather, after all.
...
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