Star Wars: Triad
Episode I: Enter the Empire
The Imperial Guard has placed garrisons on some of the more strategic worlds that produce valuable raw materials or manufacturing to prevent any dissent from becoming a problem. These garrisons wait, poised for the merest word from the Emperor to take control of the local government and hand these worlds to the Empire's greedy grasp.
The criminal Syndicate also has concerns about the future of these worlds. many of them are important logistical centers for exchanging illegal goods for legitimate ones. As the Empire tightens its grip, the use of these inner worlds is becoming more and more dangerous.
On Vorgrell, the ruling Council was dismantled by the Imperial Commander, its members arrested or killed during one terrible night. Betrayal is suspected. Alliances are made. Revenge is planned. And the Noble Houses struggle to keep hold of both their titles and wealth during the tempestuous times.
For the moment, it seems, the Empire is only flexing its muscle. Unease mounts as these sorts of strong-arm tactics threaten to topple the delicate balance of power between the Vorgrell Nobles, the Syndicate, and the new Empire.
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First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
14 Epsilon 75
Imperial Garrison, Plateau City
12:34
As soon as they dropped out of hyperspace, the comm board lit up with Bertrayn Palace attempting to contact the Black Spear, insisting to speak to Captain Moriss. Arica, it seemed, had been located while they were away. Watching him carefully, she noticed that he tried to keep his relief and joy look merely professional. She wondered what Garim would think when he opened his pack to find placed in there a copy of the tale of Ragnar One-Eye, and his love for the Princess Melisaan.
True to their arrangement, he turned over Bell Yidic to her afterwards. As soon as she contacted her boss, he had been pleased to hear the news of what happened. It meant a potential ally for them if he were needed. The Syndicate was much like an explorer, leaving stashes along the path in case something went wrong: it did favours, creating a stash of people in its debt, who may never be called on.
“What should I do with Yidic?” asked Lianna to the image of Krell on the screen.
It was difficult to read a Quarren’s face, but she could tell that he was amused. “Make a present of her to the Empire. I’ve heard about one man in particular who would be interested in her. An Inquisitor, Major Zod Severus.” Krell went on to give the information that he had: apparently, more than one slaver had fallen to Severus and his Zabrak aide.
Which led to her current situation, in the reception area of the Imperial Garrison, arguing with a young human in her full armour, while one hand held Bell Yidic – in binders and gagged, for good measure. “I will not disarm,” she snapped at the young officer, who was obviously of the same school of thought as Commander Harkness. “Haven’t you listened to a word I said? I am bringing in a dangerous prisoner.”
“I have heard you perfectly fine,” the officer replied coolly from behind his desk. “However, you appear to have this Bell Yidic restrained well enough. Further, the records that we have do not consider her to be particularly dangerous.”
Lianna gritted her teeth. Bell struggled and tried to escape again, glancing towards the door and her one shot at freedom, only to end up bent over the counter with Lianna’s forearm pressing down on her neck. “Fine then,” she said, preparing to bluff. “If you want to annoy an Inquisitor, feel free to do so. I’ll be sure to mention to Major Severus how unco-operative you were.”
That almost had the desired effect. There was fear there, but still the rigid adherence to bureaucracy. “I’m sorry, but policy is policy-“
“Yes, yes. Contact the Major; I’m sure that he will make an exception.” A quick blow to the back of Bell’s head ended her struggling, as her body slumped into unconciousness. She didn’t like the brutality, but there was no way she was going to put up with the schutta’s struggling and dealing with an Inquisitor.
*****
Zastra was fascinated.
From the look of the scene they were watching, and listening to on the monitor, the bounty hunter in the lobby seemed intent on intimidating a change in procedure. “That would be Lianna Merrol,” she informed Severus. “There are Alcona markings on her armour.”
At first, Severus frowned in mild confusion. Didn’t the Alcona have broad, flat heads and leathery skin? The armoured woman on the screen certainly bore neither feature. Then he shook his head. He was thinking of the Arcona not the Alcona. He had been having a hell of a time concentrating today. It was that dream again, that damn dream. He pounded a fist on the table in frustration. He was an Imperial Inquisitor – his mind shouldn’t be wandering like it was.
Zastra did not react to the Major’s behaviour. She knew exactly what was going on – it had been happening off and on since she had first met him and, she had to assume, before. Most important, she knew that if the Major wanted to talk about it, he would, but more often than not, he preferred to work his way through it alone.
Severus shook his head again in an attempt to clear it. It had been months since he’d last had the dream and he had thought – hoped – that he’d finally cast it off for good. But then it had returned the previous night as vivid as ever. He saw himself rushing to his old home on Naboo. He saw the advancing droid army. He saw Leetra and Vislyn cowering under a table. He heard the explosion and a wall of his house vanished and he saw himself horribly wounded while attempting to direct a falling vat of chemicals away from his family. But since he was viewing the scene from outside himself, he also saw what he hadn’t seen when these tragedies had actually occurred – he saw another explosion ripped through his home and watched helplessly and the flames consumed his wife and daughter. So vivid was the dream that he could smell his wife’s burning hair and see every detail of his daughter’s skin and it blistered and charred.
“What do we know about her?” asked Severus, sharply, between clenched teeth. He didn’t know much about the Alcona aside from some of the stories told of them: forged by the Mandalorian invasion in the wake of Exar Kun’s war, they respected but disliked the Jedi. They had their own force-sensitive class, whose teachings were declared dangerous by the Jedi. Though he was generally opposed to any Force-sensitives, the active dislike the Alcona people demonstrated toward the Jedi Order made them seem to Severus as an island of common sense in the galaxy. The Empire’s hard line stance notwithstanding, the Major invariably found Jedi sympathizers on every world he visited.
“Her vessel is the Black Spear, a heavily modified PLY-3000. We know that she met with someone in the Syndicate as well recently.”
“The Syndicate. Interesting.”
Severus pulled up the information on the bounty he heard about. Behind his mask, he would have smiled on any other day. Bell Yidic: freelance slaver. A 4000 credit bounty had been placed on her head by the empire, dead or alive. She was the perfect target for working out the helpless rage that the dream always brought with it.
“Bring them to me,” he growled.
*****
Minutes of arguing passed by when the door slid open to reveal the Zabrak. Lianna raised an eyebrow at the attention she had managed to garner, and noted the panic in the desk clerk’s eyes. “Admit them,” Zastra said simply.
Lianna did not need another invitation. Bell started to approach a semi-conscious state again. She half-dragged, half-carried the woman next to her, following Zastra down the corridors of the Garrison to the office of Zod Severus.
Severus was an imposing figure in his armour, a mix of bronze, white, and grey. There was something in his stance that Lianna immediately picked up on, something about the way he stood which indicated he was not in the best of moods. She felt a certain amount of respect for the man from his position: the Inquisitors hunted the Jedi, and that alone made any one of them a worthy opponent. “Greetings, Major,” she said, thrusting Bell Yidic forward. The slaver was not able to recover her balance enough, and tumbled to the floor. “I’ve come for the bounty on this coward.”
Severus found her description of the slaver to be intriguing, and accurate in its own way. Slavers did tend to prey on those who were more opportune targets, but to describe one as a coward told him that there was probably more at work. “And yet rather than deliver her to the detention centre, you have sought out me, specifically. I’m curious as to why.”
“Certain sources tell me you have a . . . reputation,” Lianna replied, his response confirming his position. Inquisitors lived and breathed on information, no matter how small. She imagined that being one had to be much like being a Bounty Hunter, in its own way. “You will see that she gets an appropriate punishment for her crimes.”
Severus tilted his head slightly.
He had no doubt as to whom those sources might be. The interesting piece of information here was that his reputation in the underworld had spread so far. “Of course.” He made a motion to Zastra, and she removed Bell from the floor, dragging her off to be restrained elsewhere. No doubt the Major’s aide would enjoy questioning Bell later, to ferret out more of her organisation, thought Lianna.
An opportunity was presenting itself, Severus knew. A potential informant was always something to be cultivated. “I would be curious to know how you managed to locate this bounty.”
He was also curious as to exactly what his reputation was in regard to slavers. There were certain aspects of his anti-slavery stance that could cause… difficulties for him were they brought to the attention of the wrong people. However, that was a question for another time, when he could be certain of Lianna Merrol’s loyalties and trustworthiness. At this point, she was something Severus did not particularly like – a gap in his information.
*Always curious. How much do you already know, Major?* “It was on Nar Shaddaa,” she began the story. Carefully omitting select details as to the exact sources of her information, and Garim Moriss’ identity, she told him of the arrest. “I was raised near where the slavers met to deal their trade,” she added at the end. “That, more than anything, contributed to her capture.”
“Your sources in the Syndicate no doubt helped,” he flatly replied. Lianna’s body betrayed no reaction, but neither did she deny having connections there. It would have been hard for her to do so in any event.
“I see I can hide nothing from you,” Lianna replied evenly, wondering what the angle was. An inquisitor did not tip his hand on a piece of information without hoping to confirm something, or get more information. So, why not lead him astray? “Yes, these sources confirmed your reputation.”
No direct admission of deeper involvement, as was to be expected. The woman might even be telling the truth, but of the bounty hunters on Vorgrell, he knew that she was the most likely to take the guarantee of steady work that the Syndicate could offer. “So long as they are not a threat to Imperial Order, there will not be a problem.”
*So that’s your game.* Picking up on the threat was easy, as was the potential way out of such a threat which a lesser person might have taken. “Some of my sources have my word of protection. You will not ask me to betray that word.”
“No, of course not,” said the Major, pretending that Lianna had asked a question rather than made a statement. Truthfully, he knew how important it was to protect sources – he could think of a dozen of his own who had bounties on their head and a half-dozen more who were hiding from Imperial death sentences. He and Zastra had been forced to create their own encryptions to eliminate the possibility of the Empire using the Inquisitor’s own communications to track the fugitives down.
“If there’s nothing else, Major, I’d like my bounty.”
She was certainly neither shy nor prone to meandering conversation, though Severus. In fact, she reminded him a little of Zastra in that respect.
“Certainly.” He quickly encoded a credit chip, adding an extra hundred credits on top of the bounty, and handed it to her along with a small datachip. “If you come across any information that may be of interest – on any topic at all – please do pass it on,” he added before releasing the chip. “And, in particular, I’m interested in any information on the man whose description is provided on this datachip.”
Lianna nodded, pocketing the credits. She quickly scanned the description. It was fairly vague, but she’d worked with less in the past.
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
“The Empire thanks you for your cooperation,” said Severus as Lianna exited his temporary office, the door hissing shut behind her. “And I thank you for bringing me two sources of information,” he added with a slight smile after she had left.
He clicked his commlink.
“Zastra, is the slave trader prepared for questioning?”
“Yes, master,” came the filtered reply.
“You may begin. I will join you shortly.”
Arica and Garim Pt.2
14 Epsilon 75
Betrayn Palace, Plateau City
19:43
A light evening mist had descended upon Plateau City, like a hazy film muting the usually glistening spires of Victory Plaza and the Imperial Garrison. Arica tucked her feet more comfortably beneath herself, observing the sight from the comfort of her window seat before turning her attention back to the electronic datapad that lay neglected upon her lap.
Just like her Uncle had promised, he’d had every single book removed from her private quarters – but that didn’t mean she couldn’t write, and after the last week Arica certainly had a lot to write about. She mused over her composition so far – a detailed exposition of her brutal capture by the evil space pirate and slave trader Bell Yidic, and her two fearsome henchmen.
Arica smiled, she really liked what she’d written, it had a certain dramatic flare that was a far cry from the mundane reality of spending days tied up in some darkened hole of the spaceport. Clicking open a new file, she settled down to write some more…
“Cheater! Cheater! Laris Mankara you’re a big stupid krillhead!”
Her concentration broken, Arica raised her head to observe the small group of children that were enthusiastically engaged in a game of junior trin sticks at the opposite end of the room. Seth, Ondra, Noem, Laris and Kent were the assorted offspring of various servants that worked at the palace and Arica often sat with them on an evening to read them stories or teach them new games.
“Seth! Language!” she reprimanded the young girl sharply, terminating the diary program on her datapad and setting it to one side with a sigh. “Why can’t you five just play nice for once?”
“It was Laris!” protested Seth, a pretty dark haired child with wide black eyes that looked like pools of tar at midnight. “He always cheats! It’s not fair!”
“It’s not fair! It’s not fair!” mocked Laris petulantly, waggling his hands on either side of his head at Seth like a stomb-moose. Never one to be ridiculed, Seth suddenly jumped to her feet and began to race after Laris, chasing him around the room.
“Come on now, calm down,” said Arica irritably as the other three children joined in the chase, giggling and shrieking whenever they came close to catching one another. “Someone will fall and hurt themselves,” she pointed out factually, though her warning fell on deaf ears as the children continued to race after each other, circling the room like a pack of wild animals.
Arica couldn’t help but laugh, the five youngsters had such an infectious exuberance about them it was difficult not to become caught up in it too. She clasped a hand across her mouth, trying to smother her giggles in a bid not to further encourage their disobedient behaviour.
"Miss Odari, Miss Odari," shouted Noem, skipping over to where she sat and taking hold of her hand. “Come play with us!” he urged, tugging playfully on her hand in the direction of the other children. “Please, come play!”
Arica laughed and shook her head but Noem didn’t let go of her, instead the other four children came running over too and, in fits of giggles, began tugging at her skirts in an attempt to encourage her to join them.
"Come play with us..."
“Oh please Miss Odari…”
"Noooo tell us a story, please..." whined Ondra as she sucked the tip of her thumb. She was much younger than the other children and unable to really compete in any of their games. She was also the only one not tugging on her dress but instead looked up at Arica with such big blue eyes that it softened her resolve.
"Okay," sighed Arica in defeat. “I will tell you a story if you all sit down and behave yourselves. Do we have a deal?”
Without saying a word the group of youngsters all fell to the floor dramatically, sitting on their hands and pursing their lips together as though no sound would dare try to escape. They loved Arica’s stories because they were always so much more exciting and fantastic than the kind of stories grown-ups usually told. They were capable of raising the tiny hairs on one’s arm, and making the heart flutter with apprehension while at the same time rousing fits of laughter so powerful that they drew tears.
Arica smiled and settled herself back down on the window seat. “Very well, if you’re all sitting comfortably… then I’ll begin.” She took a deep breath; she already knew exactly what story to tell. The tale of a heroic Twi’lek woman who piloted a hulking space-freighter around the galaxy, saving lives and battling evil-doers while at the same time breaking the hearts of all who met her.
“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”
Garim pushed the door open quietly. He had purposefully avoided Arica since their return to the palace despite the fact that he had been desperate to talk to her ever since that morning on the Siren. Seeing her now for the first time, Garim felt almost ill with anxiety.
Yet he smiled when he saw how she was entertaining the small group of children who sat at her feet. They were in complete awe of her - that much was obvious by their attentive gazes and wide, gaping mouths. To give Arica her dues, she was a consummate story-teller, able to easily conjure up worlds of fantastica in the imaginations of her listeners, and to infuse all her characters with such heart you couldn’t help but feel for their every plight.
Leaning against the doorway, Garim silently watched the young noble-girl. She came alive when she told her stories, her eyes sparkled and her face seemed to glow. He suddenly realised how unfortunate it had been to kiss her… that up until that point he had been able to rationalise his feelings for Arica as merely professional devotion. But looking at her now, with the memory of her kiss upon his lips Garim knew that despite all his better judgement, despite all his rationalising to the contrary… he was falling in love with her.
A rousing applause signalled the end of the tale and Arica leaned back against the window with a sense of triumph. The children, buoyed up by the adventure, leapt to their feet full of renewed vigour. The girls leapt back and forth in an attempt to imitate the intricate dances of the Twi’lek women while the boys ran about, hiding behind various pieces of furniture while dodging imaginary laser fire.
Seizing the moment, Garim strode across the large drawing room to where Arica sat, clearing his throat to gain her attention.
“Miss Odari-Mosora?”
Arica turned and looked up, her lips curling into a joyous smile. “Captain Moriss… I was hoping to see you. Uncle Oldrak said that he’d given you a leave of absence, because you worked so hard trying to track me down.”
“That is correct,” said Garim formally, glancing around the room. The children were now engaged in a game of tag at the other end, too far away to hear anything that might be said. “May I sit with you for a moment?”
Arica’s smile grew significantly brighter and she shuffled a little further to one side of the window seat to allow Garim enough room. As he positioned himself beside her, Arica couldn’t help but notice how tense he appeared. Heeding Daell’s warning about being careful, she cast a wary glance about the chamber before placing a hand upon Garim’s knee.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, “you seem a little… distracted.”
Garim gazed at Arica’s small hand resting on his leg, noticing how long and delicate her fingers appeared. “I was just concerned for you,” he said finally with a sigh. “I heard that your Uncle sent for you…”
“Yes,” admitted Arica, averting her eyes penitently. “I don’t think he was as angry as I’d imagined he would be but… I have to give up my books for a while,” she explained, “and I can’t leave the palace. Plus I have to learn this new composition for the Electroharp, which means I’ll have to practice a lot harder. Uncle Oldrak wants me to perform at Princess Zara’s next celebration.”
“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful,” Garim reassured her, risking a swift glance at her slightly troubled face. She really was so very beautiful and his eyes focused upon her pouty lips, remembering every detail of how he had pressed his own mouth against them. Had any moment in his life equalled the ellation he’d experienced in those few, brief minutes? Lowering her down upon his bed, feeling her delicate weight submitting to his desires…
“I’ve heard you play,” Garim added swiftly, turning his thoughts towards other, less confusing things such as the sound of the children as they shrieked and whooped in play, or the last, dying rays of sunlight that cast a bright yellow glow across the polished floors.
“You have the talent, you just need to-“
“-Put the effort in and practice,” finished Arica, smiling shyly. Her eyes flickered cautiously in the direction of the children but they were too engrossed in their latest game to care about two adults and so Arica carefully took hold of Garim’s hands, gazing into his eyes with absolute devotion.
“I know I should take your advice more often.”
Garim drew his eyes away from Arica’s, looking down at their joined hands. Gently he brushed his fingers across the smooth skin of her palm. “Ari… there’s a reason why I was wanted to talk… I think there are some things that we need to discuss.”
Arica nodded in agreement, smiling when Garim used the shortened form of her name. He was the only person who ever called her ‘Ari’ and it made her feel warm inside when he did. “I was thinking the same,” she admitted, “but not here…”
Rising to her feet, Arica led the way across the room, opening the door to the adjoining study. Her charges continued to pay no heed to their very existence and would probably not even notice she had gone unless they wanted to hear another story or one of them took a tumble and needed Arica to nurse them on her lap to soothe their crying.
Garim followed her inside the study, though it appeared to be so much more. Arcane volumes, the likes of which he had never seen before except on datachip programs, lined the walls covering every subject one could think of from ornithology to geography. The room was also empty and entirely quiet except for the soft ticking of a nearby clock.
“I wanted to tell you… I really missed you, Garim,” said Arica gently once they were alone, turning around to face him. She took hold of his hands again, smiling somewhat nervously. “I thought about you all the time, I don’t think I ever stopped.”
Garim frowned uncomfortably, looking away. “Arica…”
Taking him by surprise, Arica suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her height. Before he’d even realised what was happening, she was pressing her lips against his in a warm and gentle kiss. Garim looked about anxiously but the only face to observe the tender display of affection was that of the ancient clock that ticked away the minutes from the other side of the room.
“I missed you so much…” murmured Arica quietly between kisses, cupping Garim’s face in both her hands and bringing him closer.
Garim mumbled a reply, something between enjoyment and protest though it was barely audible. He carefully tried to disentangle himself from Arica’s embrace, despite every longing in his oh so very masculine body. Every part of him was crying out to pull her into his arms, to tangle his fingers in her silky hair and return her kisses with unobstructed passion.
But he couldn’t help recalling his behaviour on Nar Shaddaa, how out of control he’d been, how reckless. He also remembered the conversation he’d had with Lianna Merrol on the observation deck of the Black Spear. “She is a Lady, I’m nothing, a nobody… Her Uncle would never allow Arica to become attached, to anybody so beneath her.”
Garim was painfully aware that their situation was still unchanged, that although Arica may be infatuated with him now, her father would eventually put an end to all that and marry her off to some rich nobleman. Yet despite what he knew, he found himself become lost in the tenderness of her soft kisses. She was leaning into him now, so close that her distinctly female scent – of perfumed bath oil and freshly washed hair - surrounded him and he began to return her kisses.
“No… no, no, no,” Garim urged suddenly, pushing the young girl back and at the same time extricating himself from her embrace.
“Is something wrong?” Arica asked quietly. “What’s the matter? I thought you wanted us to be alone?”
“I did but this isn’t-” Garim sighed and shook his head, trying his hardest not to let his resolve wither in the face of such physical and moral beauty. “Please, Miss Odari…”
“Miss Odari?” Arica laughed out loud, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. “Please, Garim… I don’t mind the formalities when we’re in company but there’s no need to keep up the pretence when we’re alone.”
“Maybe… maybe there is…”
Arica frowned and for the first time her features displayed a marked amount of apprehension and concern. Garim almost caved in right there, the look in her eyes made his heart ache with the desire to hold her.
“What is happening between us… Arica, it has to stop before someone gets hurt, before someone finds out and it ruins us both.”
Arica felt her breath catch in her throat and when she finally found her voice it was little more than a pitiful whisper. “What? No…” she whimpered sadly as Garim looked away. Arica reached up to his face and cupped his cheeks in her hands again. “No, please no, Garim… don’t do this.”
“This puts me in a very difficult position,” said Garim uneasily. “It is my duty Miss Odari, my duty to protect you as your bodyguard… not your lover.”
Arica felt her eyes sting with unshed tears, only minutes ago he had called her Ari and melted her heart… now he was all formality and forced coldness. “Do… do you regret what happened between us?” she asked quietly, “do you wish you’d never kissed me?”
Garim sighed awkwardly, unable to look Arica in the eyes anymore despite the fact that she continued to cradle his face within her hands. “It… it isn’t a matter of what I want, I shouldn’t have kissed you, it’s as simple as that. You were vulnerable and I… I took advantage of that. It was my mistake, not yours. You have nothing to reproach yourself for.”
“No…” said Arica again, pleading Garim to believe her. “No… you, you didn’t take advantage. I could have ended it anytime that I wanted. But I didn’t, I didn’t because I wanted it too. I wanted you Garim,” she insisted earnestly.
Garim squeezed his eyes shut tightly, as though by blocking out her face he could some how block out the feelings that he had for her. Arica’s pledge of devotion had not fallen on deaf ears, in fact it warmed his soul to know that she reciprocated his feelings. But at the same time that made his decision all the more harder.
“I’m your bodyguard,” he maintained, punctuating the word like a bolt of laser fire. “I have a duty to protect you and in order to do that I must maintain a professional distance. I can’t afford to let myself get too close.”
“But despite all that, it has happened!” declared Arica, almost in panic. “I can’t go back to pretending that I feel nothing for you. It would be a lie and whatever I do I cannot lie to my heart!”
Garim opened his eyes and forced himself to return Arica’s tenacious gaze. Her dark brown eyes were wide with anxiety and he noticed for the first time how her hands trembled against his jaw as she continued to hold on to him.
Removing her hands, he held them firmly, squeezing her fingers with marked persistence. “Can’t you see that this thing between us will never work?” he asked heatedly. “How can it? You’re the daughter to a great nobleman and I’m just a flight captain. I have nothing... nothing to offer you, and you deserve so much Arica…”
“Have a little faith in me,” Arica pleaded gently. “I, I do understand,” she insisted with visible tears in her eyes. “I’m not a fool, Garim, I know it won’t be easy. You’re right, our situations, our positions are such that any kind of relationship is certain to be fraught with complications. But… I’ve never felt like this about anybody, ever, I… I thought that you felt the same way…”
“Oh Ari,” said Garim miserably, “you know that I adore you but this is not like in one of your books. You and I are too different to expect a happy ending.”
Garim placed both his hands upon Arica’s shoulders, holding her with a firmness that was as steadfast as his resolve. “I wish I could be like the heroes in your stories, I wish I were that good and brave and righteous.”
“You have little faith in yourself but I know what you’re worth!” Arica implored him. “I’ve seen it every day that you put my life before your own, and even now, you worry on my behalf. How can you think yourself anything LESS than a champion for all that is good and noble? Garim… I know what and who you are, if you really believed that I cared about things like money and status-”
“-It is just like someone of your position to talk like that!” declared Garim in frustration. “You’ve never lived without money or status. How can you possibly conceive of an existence devoid of such comforts?”
Arica threw herself upon Gairm now, clutching tightly at the vest of his uniform and pressing her cheek against his chest. “You think you have nothing to offer me but you’re wrong, the only things that are worth anything to me are your love and devotion. You may have no faith in the constancy of my heart but I know Garim. I know that I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to be with you.”
“Oh Ari, you’re just a girl,” said Garim softly and with such sadness that the words almost clogged inside his throat. He stroked her back gently, a grievous smile distorting his features. “You’ll meet someone else and forget all about me.”
“No…” whispered Arica quietly turning her head upwards and looking at him with watery eyes; it was a great feat of control on her behalf to be able to resist sobbing openly. “P-please,” she begged, with little regard for how such behaviour would reflect upon her character. “Please don’t turn away from me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Garim quietly, hardly able to believe that such words were coming from his own mouth. The fragile weight of Arica’s body was pressed so close against his own that he could feel each trembling breath as it shook her inside.
Slowly he untangled her arms from around him and held her at a distance. “I’m really sorry, Arica,” he said again before opening the door and quickly vacating the room.
Arica could feel herself shaking all over with sorrow. She lurched forward, grasping the door to swiftly close it and pressed her forehead against the smooth wood. Tears rolled helplessly down her cheeks, accompanied by the smothered sounds of her sobbing...
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
15 Epsilon 75
Training Yard, Bertrayn Palace
11:23
The sound of wood cracking against wood echoed loudly in the open training yard alongside the noise of men and women engaged in fierce training. Garim barked orders at his young recruits while monitoring their progress with the aid of his two assistants.
After the stress of the past week the Baron had insisted he take time off as reward for the safe return of his niece. But Garim was never one to sit and watch the world go by, and besides, he was not in the mood to do nothing. Idleness would only allow him time to further meditate upon his last encounter with Arica… and he just could not do that anymore.
“What are you doing, Jontus?” he shouted as one of the youths managed to receive a clout around the head with his quarterstaff. Garim strode over to the two cadets, snatching the bowstaff from his opponent’s hands.
“You need to move faster and block! Anticipate your opponent’s moves before he strikes.” Some of the cadets sniggered, as he led the boy through the motions. This was the last straw for Garim, he cleared them back to make a space, bellowing orders at the group of trainee’s who had laughed and now looked particularly frightened.
“You think it’s funny do you? Let me tell you and everyone else here something funny. This might seem like a lark but out there, on the front line the inability to defend yourself means you’re dead, and I’m not gonna be the one who has to report that news to your grieving parents.”
Garim levelled his bowstaff at the three sheepish youths. “Now… I want you to attack, use your best moves and I want to see blocking!”
There were a few muttered protests but it was too late as Garim shouted out ‘engage’ and they all assumed the fight stance. The three soldiers took it in turns to attack, but each ended up flat on their backs in a matter of minutes while Garim twirled his bowstaff in graceful figure-eight patterns and barely broke out into a sweat as he made short work of his opponents.
“Pathetic,” he said with obvious disappointment as the three boys all struggled to help each other up, holding their aching backs and nursing sore limbs. “I want you all to put an extra two hour’s practice in today, you have your friends here to thank.”
Lianna watched the training session from the sidelines, staying out of sight. When she was finally admitted and shown to the training yards, she had stopped at the side to observe in fascination how the Bertrayn cadets trained. It was even more fascinating to watch Captain Moriss issue a challenge to three of them, attacking him one at a time.
*He held back,* she thought as he artfully defeated the three opponents. Not simply holding back from trying to kill them she surmised, but holding back from achieving his full potential too. Lianna walked steadily out of the shadows, watching Moriss closely.
“Most impressive, Captain,” she remarked, watching the cadets go back to their training. “I was actually told that you were off duty, though….”
“I prefer to keep busy,” said Garim as a smile of recognition formed on his face. He turned around and his smile widened. “Miss Merrol this is a surprise. You received my message I take it?”
Lianna nodded. “I would have come sooner, but I was making Bell no longer a threat. An Imperial Inquisitor has her now, who has a certain reputation regarding slavers.”
Garim wasn’t sure how he felt about that, sure he had no pity for slavers especially ones like Bell Yidic and certainly not after hearing about her treatment of Arica. But Inquisitors were an insidious and corrupt breed of individuals capable of the most depraved acts of inhumanity with the sole aim of breaking their victims. Bell would undoubtedly receive every conceivable punishment for her crimes, and then some.
“I’m glad you came,” he said amiably, wiping a line of moderate perspiration from his brow while keeping a watchful eye upon his trainees. “I know you were paid for your service, but I’ve worked with bounty hunters before… you more than surpassed my expectations.”
Garim turned to Lianna now, an obvious glimmer of discomfort in his eyes. “And, for your thoughtful counsel, I wanted to thank you in person.”
Lianna smiled though the look of uncertainty in the man’s eyes at her mention of the slaver made part of her wonder, not for the first time, if she’d done the right thing in turning Bell over to Major Severus.
“You’re welcome, Captain. It was the least I could do. And how is your charge doing?” she asked, trying to keep her voice professionally curious despite her suspicions that there was more going on between the young noblegirl and her bodyguard than a mere vocational relationship. *I wonder if he found that copy of Ragnar One-Eye I slipped in with his things…*
Thinking of Arica, Garim couldn’t help but look up towards a high-set window in the west-facing tower that overlooked the training grounds. He had often seen Arica standing there, watching the troops as they practised manoeuvres, and equally as often he’d imagined that it was himself, rather than anyone else that she secretly observed. Garim had never realised that before but it was true, he’d desired her particular interest and high regard even then.
*You’re an idiot Garim Moriss,* he told himself sharply, *a complete and utter idiot…*
“Very well I believe,” he said abruptly, shaking those thoughts from his head and simultaneously removing his gaze from Lianna, turning his attention back to the group of cadets training on the lawn. “She is in good health and not too disturbed from her ordeal. I understand that the Baron gave her some kind of punishment… though if you wish to make her acquaintance we will have to venture inside I’m afraid.”
Lianna snorted. Had she done anything as foolish as Arica, she would have been lectured by her parents and made to analyse the situation. Her ‘punishment’ would be to examine what had happened, and tell them exactly what she had done wrong and where. She would still carry out her training and study, but perform extra meditation until they were satisfied that she had drawn a lesson from the experience. With distaste she could only imagine what nobles considered appropriate.
*But these are a different people,* she reminded herself. She also couldn’t deny that part of her was intrigued to see how they lived.
“I would be honoured,” she said to Garim. “I must admit that I’m more than a little curious - I’ve only met the former Sheriff, and then only in bringing in bounties.”
Garim nodded, gesturing towards one of his assistants to approach. “Take them through feints four, seven and eight, I’ll be back shortly to check their progress.”
As the aide hurried back to the troupe, Garim motioned for Lianna to follow him and together they made their way through the extensive grounds towards the opulent arching entryway of the Palace de Kancha.
“The Baron will be otherwise engaged, unfortunately,” he informed her as they walked, “but Miss Odari-Mosora is a very accommodating young lady, plus I know she’d like to thank you herself for all your help during the past few days.
“It was no problem, really; I was just doing my duty,” Lianna said as they entered the palace. Though it was a particularly warm day outside, within the interior of the palace it was pleasantly cool.
That wasn’t the only impressive feature of the residence. Though markedly understated, the interior of the palace was incredibly beautiful. Tall columns of bronze coloured metal rose majestically upwards, reflecting the abundance of light that pealed in through the equally high windows. As the two of them made their way towards the east wing of the building, Lianna also noticed how the mouldings and structures bore various allusions to the aquatic. In particular she observed the swirling, oceanic carvings that rolled across the ceilings and were surely a tribute to the surging, swelling seas of Vorgrell which had made the Bertrayns their fortune in the first place.
It took them almost fifteen minutes to traverse the endless corridors but eventually Lianna heard the achingly ethereal sound of an electroharp drifting out of one room. It was a soft yet obviously complex melody that was being played with an air of carefulness to it, as though the player were afraid to miss a note.
Walking into the vast concert room, Lianna immediately recognised the girl Arica gently nursing the electroharp between her knees, her face etched into an expression of intense concentration as her fingers moved over the instrument.
“Miss Odari?” said Garim gently, bowing to the young girl as he approached. “There is someone I would like you to meet, if that is not too much of an inconvenience.”
Arica rose from her low seated chair, propping the electroharp against it to keep it upright. “Captain Moriss,” she all but sighed, her voice sounding particularly saddened and lonely. “You know I am always amenable to your requests.”
Garim couldn’t help but grimace at Arica’s words though he knew there could never be any malice or spite behind them, it was not in her nature to behave in such a way, especially in company. He gestured towards Lianna and stepped to one side.
“May I present Ms. Lianna Merrol, she was the bounty hunter who assisted me in my search on Nar Shaddaa.”
Lianna could sense a certain amount of distance between the captain and his charge - a coolness which was more than just professional distance. Something had happened to set them at odds with one another. Perhaps a fight or an argument.
Carefully, Lianna tried to duplicate Garim’s style of bow, not being one that she was used to. “An honour to meet you, Miss Odari,” she rose without waiting for leave to do so. Her holorecording hardly did her any justice. “Your playing is quite lovely. Where did you learn, if I might enquire?”
Arica curtsied in reply to the bow that Lianna had afforded her, dipping low briefly so that the hem of her dress grazed the floor. “I was very privileged to be instructed by one of the finest tutors on Coruscant, Krayachi Von Symbla III. Though I’m afraid I don’t do his teaching justice.”
Rising to her full height, she smiled weakly, “and please, call me Arica. I’m afraid Captain Moriss has not had the opportunity to relate to me the particulars of his journey to Nar Shaddaa. Although…” she risked a glance in his direction, catching his eye momentarily. Despite all her best intentions Arica felt her heart skip a beat. “Anyone who is fortuitous enough to secure his good opinion is a friend of mine.”
“Thank you, Arica, and please call me Lianna,” she replied, wondering exactly what particulars Moriss had the opportunity to relate. Almost certainly, it was not their conversation on the way back from the Smuggler’s Moon. “I’m just glad to find out that you were returned safely.”
She was certain, however, that Bell Yidic was emphatically not safe. “You’ve been to Coruscant, then? I don’t think I can go back there after last time,” she smiled at the memory. Though Lianna had secured her mark, it was not without cost when the Security Commissioner just had to play the hero and got himself shot.
“Something about being a public safety threat,” Lianna added wryly.
Arica smiled again although she wasn’t entirely sure what the woman was referring to. There was also something strange about her… Arica couldn’t shake the feeling that they had met somewhere before, though she could for the life of her remember where.
“Actually Coruscant is where I was raised, my father is Senator Morden Odari-Mosora a member of the Galactic Senate representing the Bakura System… well, at least he was in the days of the Republic, not since the Empire took control. That’s why I was sent here to live with my Uncle.”
“Baron Bertrayn is an old friend of Miss Odari’s family,” interjected Garim.
“I imagine, being a bounty hunter, you must get to travel quite considerably,” said Arica, sudden interest lighting up her features for she loved few things better than tales of adventure and far off lands. “You must have seen so much of the galaxy.”
“Much more than I wish I had, sometimes.” At Garim’s interjection, Lianna wondered exactly what was going on. Young women were apt to think of old friends of the family as Uncles, and sometimes even more. The nobility confused her that was for certain. Arica was a grown woman, and the Baron had assigned her a ‘punishment’?
“Most of what I’ve seen, though, might not interest you,” she continued, though she could tell from Arica’s face that it was far from the truth. The young woman wanted to hear stories, though most of Lianna’s were a bit intense.
“But there was one… have you ever been to Ithor?”
As Arica shook her head, she went on. “It is one of the most beautiful planets you will ever see, with floating cities to prevent harming it. There is just one catch: the Ithorians will not let anyone on to the surface who does not live there permanently. Only sheer luck prevented me from becoming one of those inhabitants - a criminal I was chasing shot me down, but my escape was recovered before hitting the surface.
“I can still remember the sight of Tafanda Bay,” she went on, “as my escape pod passed overhead. I don’t think I’ve seen a more beautiful or well-cared for planet in my life.”
Garim couldn’t help but gaze at Arica as she became captivated with Lianna’s story. She held her hands clasped together tightly as though in prayer and her rich chocolate-coloured eyes fairly glowed with delight. He had to turn away, forcing himself to concentrate on the mottled copper patterns that the frame of the electroharp reflected across the highly polished floor.
“I have read stories of Ithor,” gushed Arica, barely able to contain her excitement and now oblivious to the obvious agonies of her bodyguard. “Is it really true that there’s a tree that grows there with telepathic capabilities?”
“Sadly, I don’t know - ecology was never my strong suit.” Lianna noticed Garim turn away from Arica, unsure of the exact source of his unease, but then, he was doing his duty. “My knowledge of trees extends to the most common ones to eat for survival, though a telepathic one might have been mentioned. It was a long time ago. I’m sorry.”
Arica looked a little disappointed, but it was only brief and soon replaced by her earlier expression of gushing enthusiasm. “Captain Moriss is from Naboo, have you ever been there?”
Lianna’s face reddened and she coughed a little in surprise. She hadn’t known that Captain Moriss was from Naboo, and felt a little embarrassed about it. Surely he could have heard the story, if he was there at the proper time. “Yes, well… I try to avoid Naboo – my own choice, not like Coruscant, where I have a shoot on sight order.”
She gave a look towards Garim, seeing that he either had not heard or did not remember the story. With a sign, she began. “Montric Yin – one of the single most dangerous criminals in the galaxy – went to Naboo about… what was it, 7 standard years ago?” Moriss gave a nod, and had a look of shock on his face that he was now looking at the bounty hunter involved in that incident. *Great.*
“Montric managed to get a number of things happen to him at once. One of them was a 50,000 credit bounty on his head by the Republic. If he set foot in the Core worlds, there would be 10 hunters there waiting for him. Now, I wasn’t the only one chasing Montric – there was another one after him too, my old rival Theron.
“We both ran into Montric in the same area, and a race and a chase for him ensued. It was the kind you see in the holovids – ducking through buildings, random blaster shots, moving through crowds,” Lianna looked to Arica. She could see that the young woman was very captivated by the story, probably just picturing her dashing through the streets of Theed, barely avoiding all manner of catastrophe. “Theron lost us along the way – at least there. I heard he later got Montric, the lucky son of Gundark.”
Moriss coughed at the exclamation. Lianna ignored him. “Well, I started to chase Montric through a crowd – a big crowd – and glance over my shoulder to see several guards come after me. Montric bounds over a railing, starts to turn one way, gets this look of fear… I pull out my blaster and take a shot at him, don’t hit any bystanders thankfully. Jump over the railing, and I’m covered in guards.”
She sighed again as she got to the end. “I wondered just what was going on, and even got questioned by a couple of Jedi Knights for a week straight, as well as searched multiple times.” Lianna forced a smile. “Turns out, I interrupted a parade in honour of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine’s latest victory.”
Arica clasped her hands across her mouth to stifle her laughter. Lianna certainly had a way of telling an exciting story but from the look on Garim’s face she could tell that he was a little less than impressed with her recount.
“You’ve led such an interesting life,” Arica said appreciatively. She really wanted to hear more stories, she was certain Lianna must have many just like her adventure on Naboo, but it wouldn’t be polite to keep pressing her.
“Very… interesting,” added Garim as he rejoined the two women, “very dangerous too from the sounds of it.” Of course it was the kind of story he’d expect but he was always wary of filling Arica’s head with too many glorified tales of warfare.
“Extremely,” she replied, noting a sound of slight rebuke in Garim’s voice. He was probably afraid that Arica would get it in her head to go off, chasing dangerous criminals. Without a better idea of how to defend herself, that would be a bad idea. Turning to Arica, she pointed to the scar which sat below her eye.
“I’ve almost died so many times that I have stopped counting,” she said softly. Lianna couldn’t help but see some of herself in Arica when she was younger, hearing stories of heroes and firsthand accounts of difficulties.
“My people train in martial arts from an early age, including the artists - but I’m sure you must have other interests,” she took Garim’s hint.
She wondered if Arica, like a true noblewoman, had a more artistic education. Not her forte, but she could say a few intelligent things. “Literature or dance, perhaps? Or other instruments which you play?”
“Well, yes…” admitted Arica shyly.
“Miss Odari is a very accomplished young woman,” said Garim, finding it impossible to resist singing her praises as though the very concept was second nature to him. “She reads more books that I ever thought it possible and speaks many languages, she even plays the Zeltron flute.”
Arica blushed furiously at Garim’s unexpected commendation. “Yes, although I’m afraid I’m not any better at playing the flute than I am the electroharp. It is my own shortcoming though, I should really practice more.”
Garim turned away again, recognising the words that he had spoken to Arica only the other day. “Yes… and in light of that I fear we may have imposed upon you too long.” Before anyone could protest he added, “your uncle will be angry if he discovers that we have interrupted your practice.”
*Her Uncle brings shame to his name and hers if he would be so controlling.* A person needed to be able to make up their own mind, and take responsibility for their own actions. Still, to express a distaste for her Uncle, especially with only a few remarks about him, was not the best course. “If Arica wishes it, I will leave her to her practice.”
She looked directly at Arica, hoping to convey her meaning through her eyes: this is your decision. “Should you wish it, I can even return later,” she smiled. “I have enjoyed talking with you, and I suspect that there is much we could learn from one another.”
Arica smiled graciously, “Thank-you Miss Merrol, I mean Lianna,” she said in her usual softly-spoken tones. “Though I’m afraid Captain Moriss is right, I really should return to my practising, I have to play at an important celebration at Orsiri Castle and I’m sure I’ll need all the rehearsal time I can get. But I would love for us to meet again, I might even be able to play for you sometime… so long as that prospect doesn’t frighten you too much,” she added with a shy smile.
Lianna returned her smile. “That would be a most enjoyable experience, I think. I shall meet you again sometime, then; you can send word through Captain Moriss to track me down.” No doubt, her Uncle would probably disapprove of the noble woman cavorting with a bounty hunter. Still, that would hopefully not be much of a problem. “Farewell, Arica.”
Lianna could tell that Garim was probably mildly displeased with her on the way out, but she wasn’t too worried about that. He didn’t say anything if he did disapprove of her, and she hoped that he would pass on any message which Arica might have for her. Arica seemed so shy and withdrawn that she could scarcely believe it, but that was probably just due to her encounter with Bell.
“Thank you for introducing me to her, Captain,” Lianna said when they had returned to the entrance of Palace de kacha. “I suppose we will meet again as well. If you need anything from me, do not hesitate to ask.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
16 Epsilon 75
Bertrayn Palace, Plateau City
10:43
Introducing James Marsden as Derex Foxx
*Maybe I should have thought this job through more,* Derex huffed as he rushed around a corner to avoid one of the Betrayn family security guards. There was a brief moment of regret, as he considered the danger that lay in robbing from one of the royal families, but it soon passed, replaced by a strong ‘this will be exciting’ attitude. Derex was cursed with a need for danger, and this particular assignment quenched that thirst pretty well.
Reaching into a side pocket, he withdrew three small black orbs and then proceeded to look up… way up. A small balcony jutted out roughly fifty feet above ground level - quite a drop if he didn’t make the jump.
After pausing only briefly to adjust the black mask covering his eyes, a large grin crossed Derex’s face as he detonated the orbs next to his feet and jumped.
“Gravity bombs, is there anything better?” he chuckled to himself as he soared high into the air landing on the balcony with ease.
With the press of a button on his wristband, a thin stream of laser energy blazed outwards and he began to cut a hole into the double doors that led into the palace. “This is going to be more fun than I thought”.
****
Arica sighed with frustration and threw her sheet music to one side irritably. Her uncle couldn’t have picked a worse punishment if he’d tried. “Oh, Glorious Empire,” was filled with particularly tricky accelerando’s and polyrhythms that made her feel as though her fingers were nothing more than clumsy, useless stumps incapable of creating the beautiful music that the electroharp was famed for producing.
As she knelt down to retrieve the scattered papers, Arica couldn’t help but sniffle dejectedly, working hard to suppress the tears that had threatened to surface ever since Garim had so steadfastly rejected her. She still couldn’t understand why he would say such things, surely the trivialities of duty and social status were nothing they couldn’t overcome if they truly cared for one another?
Straightening out the jumbled music and replacing it on her stand, Arica knew that her inability to recreate the simultaneously lulling and rousing tones of “Oh, Glorious Empire” had nothing to do with her lack of talent. It was because her heart was breaking.
Hoping to ease her sorrow, Arica settled the electroharp between her knees again, rested her chin on the cross bar and began to play…
****
The hologram of a large red gem dissipated as Derex turned off the wristband projector and began down the halls of Betrayn Palace. *I wonder how much this precious stone actually retails for…* he wondered, debating whether or not the price he was being paid was adequate for the heist.
*Maybe I’ll ask for more.* A sudden beep ripped Derex from his thoughts as a servant droid rounded the corner.
“Identify yourself,” it chimed in a monotonous voice as it prepared to sound the alarm.
“You know what’s depressing my little robotic buddy? Less than three years ago I couldn’t go anywhere without being recognised by fans. And now? Now no-one seems to recognise me.”
On that note, the thief retrieved a tiny disk from another pocket and launched it onto the droid. Within a second, the EMP shockwave had worked its magic, disabling the pesky bot before it could alert anyone to his presence.
After pushing a button on his mask, the right eye-slit began to glow as the scanner checked the area for the large gem. *Oh yeah, I’m wearing a mask, of course he didn’t recognised me,* Derex convinced himself before continuing down the hall.
****
Arica played out her sorrow and for the first time she managed to hit all the right notes, even the complex accelerando’s and polyrhythms that she had begun to loath presented no problems. As her fingers artfully plucked at the fine strings of the electroharp it was as though she were being guided by some unseen force. Arica found a small amount of consolation in that feeling, closing her eyes while she continued to play.
Lost in the mellifluous melody, Arica began to quietly sing along.
”Oh, Glorious Empire, your rule is supreme. Across the universe, imparting your wisdom…”
****
As the magnetic door slid open, Derex was ready to take a step forward before halting abruptly. A series of trip lasers on rotating bases covered the entire room, making the path the to gem incredibly difficult… but not impossible.
Unhooking his backpack, the thief took a deep breath before he charged into the room. Like a lithe cat, he twisted and turned, flipping and dodging the lasers as they spun around him, one even came within a hairs width of his stomach.
*Man I need to cut back on the bantha burgers!*
But, Derex made it to his goal, and with a wide smile he hoisted the gem from its intricate stand. “And now, I have to get out,” he sighed, out of breath, not looking forward to redoing the laser labyrinth again.
****
Turning the pages of music, Arica suddenly stopped playing and listened.
She could have sworn she’d heard a noise outside in the corridor though she knew it was impossible. The east wing of Bertayn Palace was reserved for entertaining, society functions, banquets, that kind of thing. It was why Arica had taken the trouble to have her electroharp transported to the large concert room – it had perfect acoustics and the added benefit of solitude, which meant that she could practice in peace.
Few people, except for the occasional security guard performing a routine patrol, ever wandered into this part of the palace, and was in fact out of bounds to most since the Betrayn’s personal collection of art and precious artefacts was also stored there.
“Hello?” she called out, feeling a little foolish to be talking in an empty room; it would be even sillier if it turned out that nobody was even there.
Suddenly a short, blond-haired soldier poked his head around the door. “Sorry to disturb you Miss Odari, just doing my checks. Everything okay in here?”
Arica nodded, glad that she hadn’t been hearing things. “Fine thanks.”
The soldier smiled as he withdrew from the room, “nice playing by the way.”
Arica smiled to herself as she was once again left alone. Tracing a finger across her sheet music, she suddenly decided to try something different. Putting “Oh, Glorious Empire” to one side, Arica picked up something a little less… empirical. “My Love for Lila” was one of her favourite pieces, not only because she knew she could play it well and without difficulty. The song was about a young nerf herder who fell in love with the shepherd’s daughter but was too afraid to tell her for fear of being rejected.
Arica’s fingers nimbly rippled across the strings, producing beautiful, ethereal music to which she sang along softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“My love I see you by the cerulean skies, a raven silhouette in a field of amber grain. With hair like gold, the wondrous sun, my heart it longs to see you again.”
****
With gem in hand, Derex casually strolled down the halls never once considering what would happen if he ran into a guard. No, he liked to live in the moment, and worrying about ‘what-ifs’ was just a waste of time.
Besides, the Betrayn palace was, all things considered, very lax in their security. *I guess they don’t share the same views of security as Zara does,* he chuckled, remembering how many guards his ex-lover had patrolling her castle.
Once again his mind was torn back to reality, but this time, not by some droid beeping, or an angry security guard, but by beautiful music coming from down an adjacent hall. Caution suggested he leave the palace now while he was still ahead, but Derex was never one to listen. Changing his escape path, the ex-Seeker star darted down the corridors, closer and closer to the sound until he was actually standing outside the room where a young girl was stringing an electroharp.
“Whoa”… *she’s beautiful,* he noted, not realising he had ‘whoa-ed’ outloud.
Arica’s fingers jarred suddenly on the strings, making a hideous screeching sound, standing so abruptly she almost knocked over her stool. Her heart was thumping solidly in her chest as she regarded the young man who stood in the doorway, there was something about him that made her suddenly wary.
“I… I um, didn’t realise anyone was listening,” she said awkwardly, rolling the electroharp back to rest against her vacated chair. She considered the stranger a little more closely, she didn’t recognise him but then she didn’t know every single servant and guard that worked at the palace. Besides, he was wearing some strange mask that obscured his eyes, making them look like the large lenses of an insect.
“Who are you?” she asked curiously.
“Anyone you want me to be,” Derex responded cockily as he flashed the girl a pearly white smile.
Arica wasn’t sure she liked the arrogant swagger of this man as he stepped further into the room as though he had lived there all his life. Suddenly she caught sight of the large, egg-shaped object that he was holding in his hand. She frowned, returning her attention to the stranger.
“You aren’t one of the palace guards, I don’t think you should be here,” she said with more certainty than she actually felt. Arica knew there were few guards around this area of the palace and that fact made her especially circumspect, particularly around strangers.
“What’s that in your hand?” she asked cautiously. Arica thought she had seen the object before, perhaps in the Bertrayn’s vault, but she couldn’t be sure. When the stranger didn’t reply she continued. “You… are you a thief?” she asked warily, “you look like a thief…”
With his smile never faltering, Derex advanced a little more pretending to be insulted. “Why I’ve never been accused of anything more heinous in my life. Normally, I’d be upset, but you’re too pretty to stay mad at, so just this once, I forgive you.”
Arica took a wary step backwards to compensate for the man’s advancement. If he was a thief why was he standing here talking to her when he could be rushing to secure his freedom?
“That’s… well that’s very kind of you,” she said looking around for something to defend herself with. She pondered whether she could topple the electroharp over him; it was heavy plus if it got broken in the process then she wouldn’t have to keep practising.
*Great idea Arica,* she admonished herself silently.
“I guess, it wouldn’t make you the best thief on Vorgrell to be indulging in small talk when you could be making your escape, right?”
“Now what kind of man would want to escape a conversation with one of Vorgrell’s most beautiful women?” Derex retorted as caution warned him to maybe actually heed the girl’s advice. *Shhh quiet caution.*
“Now would it be to forward of me to ask your name? So I could remember it in my dreams…”
“Arica,” she said quietly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at what even she could tell was a particularly corny line.
Rejecting the electroharp as a possible weapon, Arica stole another cursory glance about herself, turning her eye to the chair. It was small and light, she could maybe use it to hit the man with, but it would hardly slow him down. The music stand? No… that was just…
Suddenly Arica remembered her personal alarm; it was resting on the music stand and was connected directly to the guard post on the level just below. It wouldn’t take them too long to send a patrol up here, maybe a few minutes. If she could get to it, and manage to stall him for that length of time she wouldn’t even need to think about defending herself.
“And… and what is your name?” she asked, feigning interest and at the same time slowly inching her way over to the music stand. Arica twisted a length of her hair around her index finger nervously while trying to smile and look relaxed.
“You don’t even have a clue?” he asked disappointedly, then dismissed the comment as he noticed Arica’s look of confusion. “I would tell you, but then it would kinda make the whole wearing mask thing a waste of time. And besides, doesn’t mystery just add to romance?”
*Is he’s actually trying to charm me?* Arica wondered with disbelief, it seemed almost absurd. Like something straight out of the pages of “The Gentleman Thief.”
“You’re here, stealing from the people who look after me as their own,” she retorted, inching a little closer to the music stand. “I wouldn’t consider that…” Arica glanced briefly in the direction of her alarm, it was so close. She quickly returned her attention to the thief. “Erm, I, I wouldn’t consider that to be terribly romantic.”
Arica saw the man glance at her alarm, a sudden look of realisation dawning on his face. He darted towards it but Arica was closer and grabbed it swiftly, pressing the panic button several times before the thief ripped it from her hand and smashed it against the floor.
“The guards will be coming,” she announced nervously, backing away as though uncertain whether the intruder might do her some harm. “Any moment now, you can’t escape.”
“Aww, cutting our date short? You owe me a rain check,” Derex winked before turning heel, and jetting out of the room as fast as he could.
He cursed again as a slight buzzing began to emit from his cybernetic leg, followed by a wave of stinging pain. Despite its high level of technology, the robotic appendage couldn’t handle the strain Derex often placed on it. He stumbled slightly as his leg threatened to give out from under him, but he pushed through, continuing his getaway. *Why do I always get in trouble because of pretty girls?*
As the thief ran out of the room, Arica followed, hanging onto the doorway and watching him as he stumbled down the corridor at an ungainly pace. Something seemed to be wrong with his leg and it was obviously impeding his getaway. She bit her lower lip thoughtfully for a moment before running after him.
*Oh please don’t let this be yet another of your stupid ideas Arica,* she pleaded with herself as she ran, picking up her gown so that she wouldn’t fall. It probably was a stupid idea but Arica wasn’t thinking about the possibility of what danger she could be putting herself in, she just wanted to retrieve the gem that the thief had stolen. Maybe if she did she would be able to prove to her uncle that she wasn’t just a silly, headstrong girl. He might even revoke her punishment and return her books.
*Books? BOOKS? You’d risk your life for books?*
*But he didn’t seem all that dangerous…*
*Of course he’s dangerous! He’s a thief for crying out loud!*
Hearing the tip tapping of feet behind him, Derex couldn’t help but grin. *She’s actually following me? The girl has guts* He wasn’t really worried though, even if she did manage to catch up, in all honesty, what could she do to him? Not much, nothing like the squad of guards that lay infront of him…..SQUAD OF GUARDS!?
“Well this isn’t good,” the thief mumbled under his breath, quickly scanning the area for an alternate escape path. The guards began advancing, their pistols at the ready…time was running out.
And then it hit him: a small window behind Arica (who was now almost fully caught up to him). He could only pray that the drop was not too far. Stopping on his heels, the thief somersaulted backwards into a one-handed cartwheel passing to the right of the noble girl. In one swift motion, he extended an arm and dragged Arica back with him, holding her tight like a hostage.
Placing his wrist blaster to her head, he turned to the group of security who were now stopped dead in their tracks. “Put your guns down!” he called out threateningly.
He could feel the girl shaking in his grip, no doubt worried for her life. “Don’t worry, I would never actually hurt you,” he whispered gently into her ear.
Despite his assurances though, Arica couldn’t stop herself from trembling. She could feel the metal end of the blaster press against the side of her head, hard and cold. *How do I get myself into these situations?* she thought desperately as the stranger’s hand tightened around her waist. *Uncle Oldrak was right, I am a silly little girl.*
Feeling the thief’s warm breath against her skin as he whispered in her ear, Arica twisted her neck slightly. “Who are you?”
“I wish I could tell you, but the whole thief thing… kinda gets in the way,” he responded, keeping an ever vigilant eye on the security guards. “Okay now, take ten steps back. That’s it…bigger steps… bigge- OWWW!” Derex cried in pain. Arica had decided to take the rescue into her own hands, and proceeded to stomp on his human foot. As the girl tried to rush forward, Derex stumbled back all the while trying to keep his grip on his prisoner.
The result was not what either had planned. In the jumble of movements, Derex managed to pull Arica back, but to both their shock and horror, she stumbled clumsily over his leg and fell back into the window. With a resonating CRASH the young noble women toppled through the glass.
*Uh oh!!*. Without thinking, Derex tossed the gem to one of the guards and dove out the window after her. Moving with expert precision, he aimed his magnetic grappler downwards and fired. The long cord sprung out and within moments had wrapped itself around the girl and began retracting. Using his wrist tool from the free hand, he launched another grappling cord which penetrated the wall, hooking deep into the stone.
He had managed to stop the free fall and had Arica now safely in one arm, but unfortunately, the extra weight made controlling the movements difficult and as a result his decent to the ground below was not a smooth one. He crashed into the side of the building over and over, and each time, he angled himself to absorb the impact.
“What he hell were you thinking!? Derex wheezed in pain, when they finally set foot on solid ground. “You could have got yourself killed!”
“Me? How- What?” Arica gasped for breath from a combination of excessive adrenaline and shock. One minute she’d been falling, thinking her relatively short life was over before it had really begun and the next, Johnny Hero had her tucked beneath his arm and was lowering her to the ground.
Quite forgetting herself, Arica slapped away his hand as he tried to help her up. “Look… whoever you are! If you hadn’t been trying to use me as a human shield in the first place-“ she fell silent abruptly, breathing hard with barely restrained anger.
In trying to calm herself, Arica happened to look up at the broken glass of the walkway overhead. *Wow, I would have been dead for sure,* she thought to herself, realising just how far they’d come. Arica turned back to the stranger.
“At least I fell,” she surmised. “You jumped! You’re the one who could have gotten yourself killed! What are you? Crazy or something?”
“Apparently. I left a gem that would have got me a lot of credits, to jump out the window and risk my life to save some girl I just met who doesn’t even seem to appreciate what I did for her.”
A scowl now crossed his face as he moved closer. “And you know what!” Derex semi growled, bringing his face even closer to hers.
“What?” Arica replied defiantly, preparing to defend herself in case the man turned violent.
“It was worth it,” he replied with a huge grin before kissing her unexpectedly. Drawing back, he gave the stunned girl a wink. “Definitely worth it,” he reiterated before rushing off and using another gravity bomb to escape from the walls of the royal grounds.
Arica stood in absolute shock, watching as the man jetted off out of sight. Minutes later the palace guards came pouring into the courtyard, scuttling around her like a flock of over anxious nannies.
“Miss Odari-Mosora? Are you okay? Did that vile brute hurt you in anyway?”
Arica hesitated. “He went that way,” she announced suddenly, pointing in the opposite direction from which the thief had made his escape. “Quick, you’d better hurry before he gets away.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
14 Epsilon 75
Plateu City Spaceport
11:29pm
As the stars came out in Vorgrell’s night sky and the fringers began their nightly business around Plateau City Spaceport, Corin made his first move. He pulled on his shadowsuit, double-checked and holstered his weapons, and collected all his supplies together in a small, jet-black backpack. Once he was done, he ran through his checklist for the fifth time and mentally went over his plan.
Corin was not taking any chances. Not where an Imperial Inquisitor was concerned. Everything had to be just right.
Seeing Arica had sparked a sense of nostalgia that Corin had been hiding for nigh-on two years now - nostalgia for the life he used to live. He had hated it at times, yes, but it had been his life. As Sheriff he had purpose, a duty. Now…now Zara had left him with nothing. Again, just like every time something reminded of his life or Zara, Corin was drawn back to relive those fateful moments of a few days ago; when he had the opportunity in his grasp and failed, failed. For days all Corin could think about was the failure, the shame. Next time he tried, he knew, it would be more difficult. There may not even be a next time.
But then, Corin had remembered something else. In reliving those moments, he reheard Zara’s words. And, just last night, with Arica sleeping on the Siren, a sentence of hers stood out from the darkness in blazing light. Now he thought about it, he felt unbeliveably foolish for not considering it before.
“You know, id have thought nothing could be more fun than sending Zayen off to the Kessel Spice mines, but this is pretty comparable.” Even now, the words repeated in his head, each syllable emphasised like the sound of a thermal detonator going off in front of him.
Of course, after that, Corin had to know. He had to know it what Zara had said was true, if Zayen was still alive.
First he had ruled out the primary source; Zara Orsiri. Her palace was still fortified in an imitation of Palpatine’s Palace on Imperial City and Corin very much doubted she’d be willing to give up anything voluntarily - if she even knew any more. Secondly he had thought to try Vorgrell’s Office of the Sheriff, but had quickly dismissed that idea. Even if they knew anything even remotely relating to Zayen’s whereabouts, highly unlikely in itself, it was even more unlikely that Imperial Intelligence hadn’t wiped their databanks of such, and other, information. Next Corin had ruled out the Imperial Archives on Vorgrell themselves. Although it was likely that the information was buried deep there, somewhere, he wanted to break into the Imperial Garrison even less than the Orsiri Castle.
Which left one more avenue for him to try: the personal transport of the recently-arrived Imperial Inquisitor. Corin had broken his self-imposed confinement just that day and had done so in style. He had poked into every shady corner of Plateau City that he could remember from his Sheriff days and then had ventured into the mother of all shady corner’s; Shipwreck. Although a small voice in the back of his head had warned against showing himself there, where the common citizen was prepared to turn in his own grandmother for a reward, Corin was comforted by the fact that he was, generally, still believed to be dead or missing, both of which brought a comfortable ambiguity. Also, to his knowledge, Zara had not yet reported him as her assassin. At least not to the general public anyway, so now, after three days, he had a certain freedom of movement.
His expedition to Shipwreck had been rewarding. Firstly, he was able to re-establish himself with a number of contacts - again from his Sheriff days - though not all of which were pleased to see him still breathing. More importantly, however, Corin was able to dig up information on the newly-arrived Major Zod Severus. And what he heard was very encouraging. Apparently, the good Inquisitor liked to keep up to date on all the comings and goings of the worlds he was stationed on. It was quite possible he had something on Zayen - certainly an Inquisitor would have the authority to requisition that sort of information.
All of which, led Corin back to this point - setting the groundwork for breaking into an Imperial Inquisitor’s personal transport.
Once he was certain everything was in order, he moved out of the Siren and spent two hours scoping out the Spaceport. Nothing seemed unusual. The cordon around the Inquisitor’s ship remained in place, but that wouldn’t be too much of a problem for him. Taking up a position behind a stack of spare hyperdrive motivators, Corin settled in to wait. He gave it another hour before he actually did anything more, then moved.
His shadowsuit gave Corin no problems crossing the distance between his hiding place and the Lambda shuttle. He slipped under the cordon like a shadow passing through shadows; silent, invisible, undetectable. There he paused and took another look around. Nobody had noticed him, and Corin knew they wouldn’t, but it was worth checking anyway. Satisfied, he moved up to the ships hull.
There, above him and winking a green light, was the ship’s ramp access terminal. Corin pulled out his datadagger and a datapad from his pack. Slotting the datadagger neatly into the terminal he brought up the pad and turned it on, keeping it close to his chest and his back between it and the rest of the spaceport. The datadagger hummed quietly as it went to work analysing the ship’s lock capabilities, then a report began scrolling across the datapad.
Interesting… Underneath his shadowsuit, Corin’s brow furrowed as his eyes glazed over the readings. A Kambis 9400 lock and a Merr-Sonn LCT across the hatchway. The lock itself was a simple code-activated number pad. Unfortunately things weren’t so simple. Even if he managed to break Kambis 9400, which was top of the line, to lower the hatchway, he’d have to deactivate the LCT laser or he’d trip every alarm between here and Coruscant. Both high-tech, both difficult to crack. Both way above his meagre slicing skills, picked up on the fly. Then again, did I expect anything less from an Imperial Inquisitor?. No, he didn’t. But at least now he knew.
Slipping the datadagger and datapad back away, Corin followed suit and slipped through the darkness back to the Siren. His little sortie done, it was time to get some rest. He had a lot of shopping to do tomorrow.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
15 Epsilon 75
7:03 am
“The Siren’s Song”
When Corin returned to the Siren it was quite early. He stripped off all his gear and caught a few hours sleep, but made sure he was up early enough to make breakfast again. There was no way of telling how Daell would react to what he was going to say, so Corin had decided it would be best to put her in the right frame of mind. Especially as what I’m planning could land us on Kessel for the rest of our lives – if not worse.
When Daell, lured no doubt by the smell of cooking, made her way into the kitchenette Corin was laying the table. “Good morning. Hope you’re hungry.”
Daell stretched her arms and smiled. “More than you can know. Thank you.” As she sat at the table she looked at Corin’s serious face. “How come you are up so early?”
“Ahh, well, there’s a couple of things I need to take care of today.” He served up the food and sat down at the table. “Thought I might as well get up early and get them done.” Corin took a bite of food. Now or never… “Actually, you might be able to help me with it.”
Daell fork stopped mid-air, and she smiled. “Sure… you don’t have to make me breakfast to ask a favor, Corin. What do you need?”
Before answering, Corin took another bite and chewed it slowly. “How’s that friend of yours – Cael?”
“Cael? He’s all right. I saw him just last week.” Daell frowned a little, there were only so few things he may need Cael for. “Stop beating around the bush, Corin, and tell me what do you need a slicer for?”
Corin grimaced and set his fork down on his plate. Ah, should have known I wouldn’t be able to get away with it for long. If he remembered correctly, some of his younger deputies would have called that ‘busted’. He took a deep breath. He had already decided what he would and wouldn’t tell Daell and he thought it best to start at the basics. “I need him to write some programs for me. Specifically, I’m looking for a slicer chip to crack a Kambis 9400 and a program to break through unknown but probably high security. I was thinking perhaps a Spike program, preferably a Tunneler if he can do it.”
“He can.” Daell lowered her fork too and leant back on her seat watching Corin intently. “High security? Does this have anything to do with Zara? Because if it does, I’d like to know more about it.”
“No,” He paused and sighed, leaning forward on the table top with hands in front of him. “Well, yes. In a way it does. The fact is, I don’t want to reveal too much because I want to be certain first.” Even before Daell could utter a word of protest, which Corin could see was fast looming, he held up a hand and stopped her. “And, yes – I know you want to know more. So I’ll say this: Are you aware of the recent arrival of Imperial Inquisitor Major Severus?” Corin let the question hang, hoping Daell could see where he was plotting this course.
“You are planning on breaking and entering an Imperial Inquisitor’s ship?” She asked, her eyes round and worried. Corin’s nod was answer enough. Daell shook her head slowly, “are you mad or what? That is impossible, that’s madness - you’ll get yourself killed! And Cael and me in the process...” She stopped, Corin’s expression was as set as a marble statue. Exasperated, Daell stood up and paced the little kitchen, silent as well.
“Is it worth it?” she asked finally, stopping in front of him.
Corin let out a sigh of relief. He had expected Daell’s reaction to be a lot worse than it had actually been, not that it hadn’t been explosive enough. It was, though certainly warranted. No one was more aware of how dangerous the whole thing was than Corin. Hell, it was probably one of the craziest, most dangerous things he had ever done. And if I’m right, it’ll only get crazier.
“I hope so.” He said, his gaze meeting hers. “If not…” As he trailed off Corin broke eye contact and shrugged. “They won’t be able to trace me back to you and Cael. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Oh, sure. Now you’re being all noble and self-sacrificing!” she exploded, throwing up her arms. Daell didn’t know what infuriated her most, if his endangering himself, Cael and her or his promise of killing himself if discovered. “Listen to me Duke. We are in this together, been in this together since I took your ass off Vorgrell two years ago! If you’re discovered I pretend you try to save your life, and I’ll do the same.”
Then again, maybe not. Corin sighed, retracting his earlier thoughts. This was going to be as difficult as he imagined. He rubbed his head as if he had a headache. “I know that, but- look, Daell, he’s an Inquisitor. He has access to the sorts of files Imperial Intelligence can only dream about. The sort of files which I need to read. I want to tell you why, believe me, but I have to know first, or…” His voice dropped off but his mouth continued to work a little longer, searching for the right words. But Corin knew if he said anything more, she’d know. Or you might never forgive me. If he told Daell what Zara had told him, Corin was certain she’d spend the rest of her life looking. That was no way to live. He could save her that pain and struggle by finding out now.
The irony in Corin’s words struck him deep, but he pushed it aside and looked back up at her. “Now, I’m going in alone because I stand the best chance of getting in and out alive. That’s the way it’s going to be. Now are you going to ask Cael to help me, or am I going to have to find another slicer?”
Daell looked down at him. She knew Corin Archell quite well after these two years – and she could be sure of two things: he wouldn’t tell her anything else and he wouldn’t put her at risk for anything short of important. She sighed, sitting at the table again. She tried to relax, but her lekku - wrapped around her neck – almost choked her, so tense she was.
“Of course. Just tell me what I have to tell him,” she said at last.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Epsilon 15th, 75
16:30
Plateau City
Daell paused before Cael’s building; she looked down at her spotted wrists and fingered them absently. Her lekku were tense and straight at her back; she was nervous. She didn’t know how she’ll breach the subject with Cael… but she had given Corin her word that she would ask him for those codes. Sighing, she decided to enter the building. She wouldn’t go nowhere just standing outside.
The sensors spotted her immediately - as usual - and she smiled and waved to the camera, even if her smile was a tight one. The door was already open when she got there.
Cael bounded down the stairs to greet Daell. After the past few days of working for Krell, examining his security and updating files - some grossly out of date - a visit from a friendly face was more than welcome. Still, he'd been surprised to feel a small twinge of disappointment that it was Daell; part of him had been hoping that Krell's mysterious bounty hunter would show up again. Strictly to discuss the Alcona, of course.
"Hey there," he said as she came in. Long experience could tell him right away that something was bothering her. "What's wrong, Daell? I haven't seen you this tense since the Orsiri coup."
Daell didn’t bother to deny his words. He knew her all right, Cael was her best friend and she felt so fortunate to have him that her heart seemed to burst. Suddenly, all the tension of the past week, the frustration of her plans being thwarted, her keeping things from him, her loneliness. . . seemed to be just too much to handle. Daell threw her arms around Cael’s shoulders and just hugged him, her breathing ragged and her eyes closed.
Simply holding her in his arms, he felt some of the old closeness which had been there before between them. It was at that moment that he know that something was terribly wrong. Perhaps even... "Daell," he said softly, trying to get her attention. "Don't tell me... Something happened, didn't it? Did someone die?"
“No. Yes… Cael… there’s so much I haven’t told you- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She kept her eyes closed, her face buried in his chest, she didn’t want to see his expression. Didn’t want to see his disappointment. Everything that had happened since the Orsiri Coup, her flying off Vorgrell with Duke Archell, their revenge plans, Zayen… well, she had told him about Zayen. She had cried in his arms over his death. Cael had always been there for her, and she had only lied to him. And now…
Cael's face sported a look of confusion and concern. So sorry? For what? As far as he could tell, there was nothing to be sorry about. She had always been a good friend, even during their period as a couple. "Daell, there's nothing to feel guilty about. You're a good person."
His words made her almost choke. “I’m not a good person, Cael. I’m unreliable and vengeful. Manipulative, deceitful, rancorous… and I don’t deserve your friendship.” She felt his strong hands push her apart and his finger raise her face from her chin, she dared to open her eyes to see his blue ones very close from her face.
Trying to look as comforting as he could, Cael held the Twi'lek's gaze. "You're none of those things," he said softly. "Daell, I wouldn't have had feelings for you if you were. Whatever is going on, you can talk to me about it, and I'm not going to hate you for it."
She looked into his eyes and just nodded. It was time she told him, two years of lying was enough, and Cael didn’t deserve it. Even if she had kept her secret to protect him, Corin and her plans were dangerous enough to drag him into them. . . something she was going to do now anyway.
“You know about Zayen...”
Cael nodded. He did know who Zayen was, in fact, she had gone to him shortly after the two of them had broken up. A look of surprise came into his eyes, as comprehension started to dawn. "You started to see him before we...?" Sighing, he chuckled and shook his head. He should have known, from how they acted. "Look, Daell, I understand. We were always better as just friends, anyway."
Daell’s face showed surprise, and then she blushed. That was not what she had meant, not at all. “No!!” She said, a little too loud, and Cael just looked at her. “That’s not what I meant. Cael, I- I was never unfaithful. You can trust me in that. Never. Not once. Zayen… he happened afterwards…”
“Zayen… you know about him, but not all there is to know.” She sighed, “he wasn’t just named after the Prince. He was the Prince.”
Shock shifted from one kind to another. "Zayen... was... what...?" He shook his head, pushing the surprise he felt at that aside. Her being faithful wasn't a shock. The identity of the other man, however, was. Zayen. Was. The Prince. "Right, I understand why you would want to keep that a secret. Try to avoid the holoreporters and everything. I'm just... wow. How did you meet the Prince?"
“At the ‘Shooting Star’, in the Spaceport. He and his friends. . . well, they were visiting the low classes.” Daell closed her eyes tightly, the pain of the memories still fresh in heart. “I don’t know how it happened, I just- fell for him, and incredibly, he loved me too.”
She wringed her hands again, and closed her eyes. “You know what happened. It was of public knowledge, the Prince was killed during the coup.”
It was understandable, and everyone knew the story well. It must have been doubly worse for her, to not only lose a lover, but to have everyone know the story. People still talked about it. The event must be a wound which never closed. "I'm so sorry, Daell." In a way, it was amazing that she could even continue to work out of Vorgrell. "You know that if there's anything I can do for you...."
Daell shook her head, and took his hand in hers, squeezing strongly. “I’m not done, Cael. There’s still more.” She led him to his seats and sat down, with him at her side. “Just let me tell you, I’ve been silent too long.”
“Yes, everybody knows about Zayen’s death, but not the real reasons behind it.” She stopped for a second, searching for words. Zara. How could she start telling him about Zara? Slowly, not looking at him, Daell told him. The Coup; Zara’s betrayal of the other Noble Houses, of her own brother… even of Zara’s xenophobia, and how her hatred for her could have fuelled her decision. He told her all that she had learnt during that fateful flight off Vorgrell, two years ago.
Cael listened impassively, distantly, to the story. Zara Orsiri would have had to work very hard to keep that a secret, and most emphatically would not want it to come out. Still, the scale of the betrayal was what was impressive. Zara had arranged for the entire council to be arrested in an attempt to seize power, and even was complicit in the death of her own brother. "You need my help," he finally said when he could speak.
It was not a statement so much as it was an observation after knowing her for so long. For whatever reason, she had kept this from him ever since the Coup, likely because she knew he would want to do something about it. There would have to be a reason for her to be telling him about it now. "You know you just had to ask, Daell, and it's yours. I think you should let me know what you have planned, though."
Daell looked into his eyes, listened to his voice, assessed his body language. He was not mad. Incredibly. He wasn’t. And he was offering his help, just like that. Maybe if she had told him earlier… but no. She wasn’t sorry she hadn’t told him. During those first times after the Coup, it had been too dangerous to even suspect the truth, and she knew Cael, he wouldn’t just content himself with knowing. And afterwards, when Corin and her plans had started to unravel, she had been afraid he’d stop her out of worry. Or tried to help. His security had been her primal concern all along.
Now, about her plans… she still had some things to tell him. “The night of the Coup Zayen called me to ready the Siren; we were flying off Vorgrell that same night. Somehow-” her voice broke and she squeezed his hand harder. “Somehow he got detained, and killed. But Corin – Duke Archell – well, he made it to the ship, and we could escape.”
She saw his look of surprise and stopped his words with her hand. “Yes, the Duke is still alive, he’s been hiding for this two years. And we have been… plotting revenge. All this time. Until last week.” Daell raised her eyes and her expression grew pleading. “I never told you because I didn’t want to put you in danger. Please, say you understand me.”
"I understand," was all that he could say, still trying to take in all of the information at once. Duke Archell was still alive, knew the truth and had been plotting revenge until... the pieces fell into place. Krell's company went into panic the day of the assassination attempt on Zara Orsiri, trying to figure out just who would manage to do such a thing. If it was in fact Duke Archell, so much of what went on made sense.
And it wouldn't be over any time soon. "You want to kill her, don't you? Try to finish what you started?"
Daell’s eyes grew fierce as the old need for revenge surfaced. “We want to kill her, yes. What she did cannot go unpunished. Corin failed, but we won’t stop till we kill her.” She smiled tightly, and squeezed his hand again. “But that’s not why I’m here for. I wouldn’t even think of bringing you into that craziness, I know you are not a killer. However, we do need your help.”
It's a little late for me to start worrying about getting branded a killer when I'm working for the Syndicate, he thought. Of course, he also knew that if she didn't need his help that she wouldn't be there... and that if he didn't, someone else would. Someone probably much less competant, who would gladly sell them out. "What do you need me to do?"
Daell sighed and smiled at him, giving him another quick embrace. “You are going to kill me for this, Cael. But I have to ask,” she said to his ear, again afraid to face him. Her tchin rose to caress his cheek. She paused a moment, getting strength, well it was now or never. “Corin needs to break into the Imperial Inquisitor’s ship.”
It was the final bit of shock for Cael. "An Inquisitor?" he started, with the surprise clearly showing through in his voice. "Duke... Archell... wants... to break... in... to... an Inquisitor's ship? Has he gone completely mad in his desire for revenge, or just plain, ol' fashioned suicidal?"
Cael held up a hand in concern, trying to stop Daell. He could see that she was both shocked and hurt by his initial reaction. "I'm sorry, it's just... an Inquisitor! Better slicers than me have tried and failed to break their simpler encryption routines."
“I understand if you can’t help us, Cael.” Daell bit her lip and twirled the point of her tchun with her fingers. “But Corin isn’t crazy. I don’t really know why is it he wants to enter that ship, but he wouldn’t be doing it if it weren’t important. That much I can say.”
Cael thought for a moment. No doubt, a very large number of other people would just refer them back to him. And the less people who knew about it, the better. Corin's best chance for survival would be to keep the number of people who knew about the operation to a minimum. "I'm going to need to know everything he does about the security.
There's also the program that I was working on for this cruiser mainframe. It's my best yet.
"There's just one catch," he sighed, "It's slow. I designed it to work on a 4,000 year old mainframe."
Daell smile grew in her face, showing her white pointy teeth. “Thank you, Cael. I know that if anybody can do this, it is you. You are a genius!!” She kissed his cheek, “my personal genius!” She blushed, and retreated smiling. “Well, former personal genius, at least.”
To cover her embarrassment, she spoke quickly, “I’m not very sure what Corin needs, he already inspected the ship’s whereabouts. I thought that maybe you two could meet, so you could talk about it?”
Cael nodded in assent, turning to avoid blushing. His thoughts turned again, briefly, to the bounty hunter he had recently met. Ok, she's fascinating. Stop thinking about her, you fool! he thought. "Alright," he said. "That sounds like a plan."
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
14 Epsilon 75
04:13
Somewhere amid the twisting maze of Shipwreck
Chib was falling down familiar routes in the city. He'd never been to Shipwreck, but every city has a rythm and Chib was exceptionally adept at picking up the beat. He'd found the cheapest clinic on the grid and, though he would likely scar, he was fixed up as anonymously as possible. Once again, he hadn't slept since his night with Kalla, and he was finally beginning to feel it. Ten hours of sleep in one week was taking its tole. Still, he walked a chaotic trail through the alleys and catwalks of Shipwreck, making his winding way back to the Lady. He had what he thought must have been hot code burning a hole in his pocket and itched to know what it held. He'd then track down a fence and offload the horrid little thing.
He walked-- blaster slung low on his hip, shiv in his sleeve, and the Palm Surprise loaded in his boot-- and no one pestered him. Not so much as a begger or pusher approached him. When Chib was in a business way, a life and death way, it radiated out of him and echoed down the rusty corridoors he fell through like a dying sun. He was a god of the low deal and his world fell into order around him.
At least, that's what he'd convinced himself of to stay going.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
15 Epsilon 75
10:51
Main Conference Room
Imperial Command Centre, Plateau City
Severus leaned back in his chair, trying his best to stifle a yawn. He, Lieutenant Akula and Commander Harkness sat at one end of a very long conference table – Harkness at the end, with the Major and Lieutenant on either side – with various division heads and administrators occupying the remaining seats. The trio had been listening to status reports, progress reports, personnel reports, financial reports, reports on other reports and reports on those reports for what seemed to the Major like days. A quick glance at the clock showed him that in reality, it had only been two and a half hours.
He yawned again, but didn’t bother to hide it this time. Some stuffy bugger with a nasally voice was droning on about potholes in the streets of Plateau City. Potholes. Most of the traffic Severus had observed since arriving on Vorgrell had been speeders and swoops, so he was having a hard time figuring out how potholes made it onto the agenda for the day’s meeting. But he felt that voicing the question would only encourage a response, so he remained silent, hoping the nasally voice would just go away.
Really, he didn’t even understand why Harkness insisted on his attendance. Though his rank placed him right between Harkness and the thoroughly disagreeable Lieutenant Akula, Severus was not technically part of the Imperial command structure on Vorgrell – he was on the planet in an investigative and advisory capacity. And he wasn’t there to investigate and advise upon such pressing issues as road maintenance. Zastra had excused herself an hour ago to look through the hourly reports sent in by Imperial patrols for anything that might be out of the ordinary. Severus wished he had been able to use the excuse to go with her.
“…causing the delays, Mister Govun?,” he heard Akula say. It startled the Major slightly, as he didn’t remember Akula beginning his question. He glanced again at the clock and was amused to discover he’d fallen asleep for nearly fifteen minutes. Thankfully, his mask had concealed the fact.
Govun was a portly man, prone to profuse sweating and nervous fidgeting, who was in charge of one of the mining operations that were forever behind on their production goals. Severus rightly guessed that the mine under Govun’s supervision had fallen even further behind and he was now being asked to account for it.
“Well, sir,” said Govun. “The workers, of course, have certain issues with the Imperial takeover. They say the hours we’re…”
“They should be happy they’re employed at all,” snapped Akula.
“Lieutenant,” said Harkness. “Please let the man finish.”
“Um. Yes. They say the hours are too long and that their weariness slows down the process,” continued the mining supervisor. “There’s also the matter of transport. The quickest route by which we can take our payload to the processing plants is not all that quick because of the tree.”
“Tree? You’re not meeting quota because of a tree?,” said Akula, honestly surprised at the excuse.
Severus frowned and quickly brought up a map on his data pad of the route between the mine and the plant. Sure enough, the road was made longer by its circuitous route around a large tree.
Harkness shook his head, clearly tired and just as clearly in need of a break.
“All right,” he said. “Thank you all. We shall discuss these situations and send you our decisions as soon as possible. Dismissed.”
As the last of the department heads filed out, closing the conference room door behind them, all three officers slumped back in their chairs and sighed. Harkness yawned loudly.
“A tree,” scoffed Akula. “A bloody tree! Do we employ nothing but idiots? Can they not even cut down a tree without us holding their hand?”
“We should reduce the hours of our miners for the time being,” said Harkness, ignoring the junior officer’s outburst.
“But sir!”
“Lieutenant, calm yourself. This isn’t a permanent thing – just for a few weeks. If nothing else, it will tell us whether the miners are being truthful about the reasons for their lack of production.”
“I have a feeling it goes deeper than that, sir,” said Severus. He leaned forward, folding his hand on the table and making a slight clank as his armour touched the thick wood. “The Empire may have the ruling classes of Vorgrell under our collective thumb, but there is a great deal of displeasure at our presence here among the general population. We may be seeing a form of social protest.”
“Akula, decrease their working hours for three weeks,” said Harkness. “And I want you to keep a close eye on our miners. I’m not sure I entirely agree with the Major, but we can’t be too careful.”
Akula nodded.
“And I would also recommend the removal of the tree Govun mentioned, Commander,” said Akula. “I know the route he uses and taking out that tree could shorten the trip by as much as ten minutes. Twenty at certain times of year.”
Harkness raised an eyebrow.
“That much? By all means, have a crew remove it tomorrow.”
“Sir, I think that would be unwise,” said Severus, scanning information on his data pad and purposely ignoring the annoyed looks from the other two officers.
“It’s a tree, Major.” The inflection Akula had placed on his rank clearly indicated that the Lieutenant would much rather have substituted the word “idiot” for “Major.”
“It is indeed a tree, Lieutenant. Your mental faculties are as sharp as ever. However, Commander Harkness, what the Lieutenant has neglected to mention is that the tree in question is called the Ornament Tree. According to the Plateau City Historical Society, it has stood in that spot for nearly six hundred years.”
Harkness frowned. That did make things slightly more complicated, but he was fairly sure the Empire could either buy off or threaten the PCHS into silence on the matter and told Severus as much.
“Perhaps,” agreed the Major. “But the tree figures prominently in Hchni’I culture. It apparently serves as the focal point of their annual festival called… I’m not even going to pretend I can pronounce this. It’s a festival honouring their ancestors every spring. That’s why Lieutenant Akula mentioned that certain times of the year would make the route longer – the transports have to go around not just the tree, but the crowds of natives.”
“Which is all irrelevant,” said Akula, his patience wearing thin. “The Empire does not move for inanimate objects, Major, inanimate objects move for the Empire. If something is impeding our progress, it needs to be removed.”
“At what price, Lieutenant? You’re already having trouble controlling your miners and now you want to anger the natives as well?”
“And you would make the Imperial good subordinate to some disgusting savages.”
“You have such a minimal grasp of politics that it astounds me, Lieutenant. I subordinate nothing. The key to control – as the Emperor well knows and has demonstrated time and time again – is acting in the best interest of the Empire as a whole while appearing to act in the best interest of the individuals. That’s why the Senate still exists and why the Emperor will never abolish it. Once he does, the illusion that the people have input to the Empire’s governance through their elected senators will be shattered. As long as people think they have a say, that they, personally, matter, then they will not revolt. Destroying a cultural icon of this planet’s native population will create more problems than it is worth. We build a new road or we negotiate with the Hchni’I to relocate their Ornament Tree and in the process we give the appearance of acting for the good of the people while in reality we’re acting in the interests of the Empire.”
After he finished his minor speech, Severus sat back and looked at Harkness. He knew nothing he said would alter any of the few meagre thoughts bouncing around the black hole of Akula’s mind, but he knew the Commander to be as reasonable and level-headed as any Imperial officer. Which, he allowed, was not really saying much. But with the weapon smuggling problem, the assassination attempts and now the issues with the mining operations, Severus felt that they Imperials on Vorgrell would be shooting themselves in the foot if they knowingly created yet another conflict. If nothing else, it would make his job of ferreting out threats to security far more difficult.
“Well said, Major,” said Harkness. “However, in this particular case, I’m inclined to side with Akula. While I appreciate your counsel, the Lieutenant has been on Vorgrell a lot longer than you and I think he’s better able to gauge the pros and cons of this action.”
Severus nodded respectfully, while silently calling Harkness several unflattering names.
“Make the arrangements,” the Commander continued, to Akula. “Have the tree removed by the end of the week and ensure the work crew is guarded by a brigade of Stormtroopers. Just in case.”
Akula nodded and Harkness dismissed them. Severus was about to contact Zastra and tell her they were finished when Harkness called him back.
“Any leads in the plasma weapon smuggling?”
“Nothing further to report, sir,” the Major said curtly.
“There’s a man, a doctor named Vish Cle’Var.”
“Yes, I know,” said Severus. He’d heard of the doctor and he was, to be honest, a little tired of the Commander. The Major still hadn’t been sleeping well and he badly wanted to get back to his ship and lie down. On top of the weariness and the annoyance of this never-ending meeting, Severus was battling a brutal headache.
“The doctor served with the Caliscotians at one point in his career. You may wish to speak with him.”
Severus nodded. Indeed he would. The Caliscotians were famous for their use – their indiscriminate use at times – of plasma-based weapons. If the Commander was correct about the doctor’s service record, Cle’var may still be in touch with the Caliscotians who, in turn, may know the likeliest supplier of plasma grenades in the sector.
The Major left the conference room without another word and met up with Zastra in the Command Centre lobby before heading back to the Anaphedros and finally laying down to get some sleep. Hopefully.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
15 Epsilon 75
11:35 pm
“The Siren’s Song”
Again, Corin spent a great deal of time making sure everything was in order. Again, he mentally ran over his checklists, spent two hours checking the locale and waited another hour.
Because this time Corin wasn’t simply checking the shuttle’s defences but actually breaking them, he gave it another half an hour. Just to be on the safe side. As with the night before, the shuttle seemed quiet. The cordon was still in place and routinely patrolled, although on a different patrol from last night, Corin noted, but again easily slipped passed. Stormtrooper armour is so easy to spot in the dark…
Putting action to thoughts, Corin rose from behind an over turned and burnt out hyperspace core and moved through the shadows towards the Lambda. He ducked through the cordon and kept low as he moved under the shuttle. Corin reached the underside of the shuttle where the landing ramp came down and remained crouched as he reached into his backpack. Removing Cael’s slicer chip he looked around and then rose up, reaching out with his arm to insert it in the lock. Lowering himself back down to the floor, Corin pulled out a datapad and raised it to the lock to check the chip’s progress. It would make short work of the Kambis lock. Like the one for his datadagger, it was remotely linked to the chip to display its progress. Slicer-speak and computer symbols were flashing across that Corin couldn’t read. That didn’t matter though, because according to Cael, any minute now he should be seeing-
A new sentence scrolled across the top of the pad. Operation complete. Have a nice day. Corin suppressed a grin at the slicer’s touch and, looking around once more, thumbed the ‘enter’ button on the pad.
The landing ramp smoothly lowered into position.
Corin swiftly set the chip to begin removing all traces of its presence and replaced the datapad. Darting halfway up the ramp he paused, careful not to cross the threshold. From his pack he removed his Dalabar Micro-Electronics SDS-632 Surveillance Detector. Designed to detect tracers, surveillance equipment and hidden communications, Corin had long ago modified it to pick up power sources associated with devices like the LCT. The device itself fit snugly into the palm of his hand, and when Corin moved the SDS around the hatchway it was not long until he detected the presence of four beams. Judging from their spacing, Corin estimated he would only have to deactivate two to move into the ship itself.
He quickly replaced the SDS with his datadagger and slid out the long, thin blade. Positioning himself with his back flat on the ramp and bracing himself with legs bent at the knee, Corin reached up to the first of the LCTs. It did not take long for him to find the manual deactivation switch and depress it with the end of the blade. Moving on to the next LCT, Corin soon had it winking a red light at him – to tell him it had been turned off – and then, returning everything to his back, moved up into the ship itself.
All lights were off, but even in the darkness Corin could see the interior was heavily modified. Moving through the ship he could see rooms for a pilots, troop quarters, and even living areas for a small entourage. Corin found it hard to believe a Lambda shuttle could be used in such a way but, although it didn’t look spacious, it certainly appeared workable. The benefits of having a mobile office, which the shuttle had certainly become, were also clear. I should really look into getting my own ship one of these days Corin decided, then berated himself for letting his mind wander. He was here for a reason.
Now if I was an Imperial Inquisitor, where would I hide the computer terminal for my archives? As he moved deeper into the bowels of the shuttle, Corin answered that question. Keeping his footfalls soft on the shuttle’s deck, he came across what looked to him like a storage room. All sorts of items from across the Empire were there. Some were practical – a few weapons, security devices, that sort of thing. Others looked like trophies. There was even a safe for which he presumed was kept dangerous or hazardous items. Or something of great wealth. But Corin ignored all that. At the back of the room was the treasure he was after; a computer terminal.
He approached it carefully, sliding out his datadagger. It was switched off and Corin didn’t want to turn it on straight away for fear of setting off Vader knows how many alarms. He inserted the datadagger into an access port and took out the remote-linked datapad. Corin was glad he did. Although the terminal appeared to be inactive it was actually on stand-by mode and from what his datapad screen was telling him the terminal was protected with layer after layer of defence programs. A Periander Feedback Circle, Imperial-issue Pyrowall…by Caamasi, even an RRDM! Short for Rapid Repitition Defence Measures, the RRDM was an Imperial anit-slicing system. It would constantly scan a computer, looking for patterns that were alien to standard system operation, such as illegal slicing. Corin had never encountered one personally and was only vaguely aware of them. A slicer he had been contracted to kill just last year had been picked up the night before breaking into an Imperial databank and tripping just a system. Next to the Periander Circle, which emitted a shrill humming noise whenever a being tried to infiltrate a computer and steadily rose in tone the deeper the slicer got, it was like a Wookie next to a protocol droid. Corin let out a slow breath and was glad he paid Cael the extra for Tunneler Spike program, but even that would take a while.
Confident that touching the terminal would not set any alarm bells ringing, Corin brought out another datapad and hooked it up to the computer. With the connection established he set the program to work. Cael said, depending on the level of security, it should only take a few minutes to do its job. Considering the amount Major Severus had installed, he hoped it wouldn’t take too long. It was already pre-programmed to simply transfer the high-level security files to the datapad. Corin didn’t know where information on Zayen would be, nor did he want to risk a search which could be long and potentially wired. Instead he decided it would simply be best to copy all the high-security stuff and go through it later. The Tunneler would bury itself in the computer, evading the security systems, whilst scanning for the requested information. All Corin had to do was wait.
Leaving the terminal Corin moved around the room, keeping as quiet as possible. The more he looked around, the more he was convinced it was some sort of trophy room. Memento’s from the Major’s inquisitions, perhaps? He swore to make sure his DeathHammer or shadowsuit would not, one day, find itself in here. With this in mind, Corin checked exits, cover and fire-angles. The pressure of an alarm going off at any minute sent a tingling down his spine. There was no way Corin would be able to sneak out, and with Stormtroopers on board fighting out was out of the question, too.
Fortunately, no alarms went off and the program did not take long. When he returned to the terminal Corin was rewarded with seeing the datapad flashing ‘Program complete, all security systems deactivated. Thank you for slicing with Cael Slice-Ways.’ Killing another smile whilst it was still-born, Corin scanned through half a page. It looked encrypted, but he could deal with that later. Now he had to get out.
He turned from the terminal to go to leave but paused mid-turn. Something was wrong. The hair on the back of Corin’s neck all stood up, but for the life of him he didn’t know why. What is it? Did I hear an alarm? A footstep? Is it something to do with terminal- The computer. It was switched off. Corin didn’t instruct it to turn off. Not on stand by; off. Something was indeed wrong. Corin could only think of one thing which that might be: they were on to him. Corin strained his ears and – yes – he could hear footsteps moving around on the deck plating.
He couldn’t fight his way out, couldn’t sneak his way out. He was trapped. Which meant he had to hide the datapad and hopefully break out and return for it later. Where? Think, Corin, think!
The safe. Corin remembered seeing a gap behind it. Would it be big enough? He darted over and put his fingers in the crack between it and the wall. Yes, he could slip a datachip in there with no problem. He quickly removed the chip from the pad and slid it down the back.
Just in time. Lights blazed on and nearly blinded him. Corin rose and whirled to be confronted with a Zabrak. Her blazing red eyes stood out like supernovae. In her hand she gripped a blaster pistol. She didn’t say a word before she pulled the trigger and Corin’s world went black.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Sometime Later
Corin wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious, but he was sure he had one of the most throbbing headaches he had ever experienced. Trying to move, the Duke discovered that wherever he was, he was very securely bound to a chair of some sort. His vision was blurry as well, but he found that the more he blinked, the clearer his sight became. And he quickly decided that he’d rather have the blurriness back.
“You have the balls of a Wookiee,” Corin heard someone say in a harsh voice. “But the common sense of a dewback.”
Heavy footfalls on the metal flooring brought Major Severus into Corin’s line of sight. He’d seen a holo of the Major shortly after the Inquisitor had arrived on Vorgrell, but seeing the man in person, Corin couldn’t help but feel a small chill run down his spine. This man hunted Jedi for a living.
“What could possibly possess a man to break into the private shuttle of an Imperial Inquisitor?,” asked the Major.
“No idea,” said Corin. The words barely came out – his mouth was drier than the Jundland Wastes. The Zabrak must have used an old model stun blaster.
“No idea indeed. Not even a guess? Perhaps we can stimulate your thought process.”
Corin saw Severus nod to someone out of view. He heard a few soft footfalls behind him, then something cold against his neck and he convulsed as electricity coursed through him.
When the shock stick was retracted, Corin hunched forward, gasping.
“Let us start with your name,” said the Major.
“Darth Vader.”
Severus nodded and the shock stick was applied again.
“Name.”
“Emperor Palpatine.”
The shock stick was applied for a slightly longer period and when it was pulled away, Corin could feel a trickle of blood running from his left nostril.
“Name.”
“Count Dooku.”
Again, the shock stick caused Corin to convulse and this time when it ended, Severus ordered a second application.
“You see, we are making progress,” said Severus. “You have, at least, brought us closer to your true rank.”
Frowning at the Major, Corin spat a rather vicious expletive in his direction. Severus ignored it.
“I already know who you are, Duke Corin Archell – I confirmed it via genetic testing before you regained consciousness. Your ability to remain hidden from the Empire is most impressive. Or, should I saw, was most impressive. You have clearly taken a step backward in that department, wouldn’t you say?”
The question was just met with a glare.
“It’s a moot point, really,” said Severus. “What I want you to tell me about is Zara Orsiri and the assassination attempt.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How silly of me. Of course it’s just coincidence that the leader of a noble house betrayed by Zara Orsiri slices my database and copies files related to Zayen Orsiri,” said the Major, continuing despite Corin’s barely-disguised surprise. “It must also be coincidence that both you and the would-be assassin possess shadow suits.”
Suddenly, the Major hauled off and punched Corin in the jaw. Corin spit some blood on the floor and was pretty sure the blow had loosened a tooth.
“We both know it was Zara Orsiri would turned on the other noble houses to bring the Empire to Vorgrell, Archell. And I would hazard to say that we both know you are one of the few people on Vorgrell with the kind of intimate knowledge of Orsiri Palace exhibited by the assassin.”
“Go mate with a rancor.”
“I don’t believe that would be terribly productive.” The Major nodded again at his unseen assistant and Corin gritted his teeth against another shock, but instead he felt a cold metal ring being placed around his forehead. “It doesn’t have a name, at least not one I can pronounce,” said Severus. “It directly stimulates the pain-sensing regions of the brain and, unlike other techniques, leaves no visible marks. I assure you, it is quite painful.”
Corin simply stared straight ahead.
“I admire your resolve, but answering my questions would be your best course of action. You see, the Orsiri woman means absolutely nothing to me – if she lives, if she dies, it makes no difference to me, personally. Quite honestly, I think she’s more trouble than she’s worth. However, at present, her death would be inconvenient for the Empire. As your attack was not directed specifically at the Empire, I am inclined to avoid the death sentence.”
The Major paused for a moment of thought before continuing. Though the Empire’s official stance was that Zara Orsiri was a valued member of the ruling group on Vorgrell, Severus had little doubt that she, like so many other political leaders, would eventually fall out of favour with the Empire.
“When the young Princess has outlived her usefulness to the Imperial Order, I would be willing to hand her over to you, to do with as you please. I would also be willing to… neglect mentioning your existence to Commander Harkness. In return, I would require your inside knowledge of Vorgrell and its noble houses.”
Coring tried to chuckle, but it came out more like a cough.
“That’s just what Zara did. Go to hell.”
“Very well. I’ll give you some time to think about my offer.”
The Major nodded again to his assistant. Corin saw the tall Zabrak woman step in front of him and press a button on a device in her hand. His entire body suddenly exploded in levels of pain Corin had never before known.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
17 Epsilon Mid day
“So you mean to tell me that you gave up a gem of that size for a girl?” Fraszz said incredulously.
“You had to have seen her Fraszz” Derex replied, putting his arm around the rodian’s shoulder as they continued down the streets of one of Shipwreck’s sketchier areas. “She was stunning! Gorgeous, beautiful…”
“Be still my heart,” Frassz said sarcastically as he rolled his giant black eyes disapprovingly. “You’re good Derex. Seriously, one of the most talented people I’ve seen since coming to Vorgrell, but these ridiculous stints of yours have to stop!”
“Oh lighten up Fraszz, it’s just a stupid gem. I’m sure there’s a million other valuable trinkets around here I could get instead.”
The smaller alien halted abruptly, his green nose twitching in annoyance. “You just don’t get it do you!? It’s not about replacing the gem, its about getting the jobs done right the first time around because if you cant do that, Derex, then Bazlo has no more need of you. Do you understand exactly what I mean my young friend?”
Derex’s body tightened up; he understood all too well. “So uh…what happens now then?” the man asked, holding back the fear in his voice as best he could.
“Well, if you don’t want to end up bantha fodder, you better come through on your next assignment.”
“Ok sure, I promise. No more fooling around. From now on, I’m all about the work. So what does good ol’ Bazzy have planned? Another rare Lotus from the Dagobah swamp? How about one of those ugly little lizard things I heard he wanted from Kashyyk. I know they’re almost impossible to capture, but for you guys, I’ll work day and night until I have the little critter,” Derex said with theatrical enthusiasm.
“I’m afraid its another theft job my friend,” the rodian broke the news knowing how much Derex hated using his adventurous talents to steal. That’s why Frassz liked him so much; Derex mingled with the underworld crowd but managed to remain, for the better part, uncorrupt; it was a refreshing change from the majority of the other members of Bazlo’s court (including himself).
A heavy sigh fell from the man’s lips. “Ok so who and what’s the target,” Derex groaned as he lit up a deathstick and slumped against the wall waiting to hear the inevitable.
“Its actually a very exciting job Derex, and if you manage to pull it off, you’ll make more than double what you would have on the last assignment.”
“More than double? Th…that’s a lot of credits.”
“You bet it is. Of course a high reward means a difficult task. Tell me Derex,” Frassz said, taking a sly pause. “Have you heard anything about this Imperial Inquisitor who recently arrived here on Vorgrell?”
Taking a long haul of the stick, Derex looked down at his little friend and exhaled slowly. “Just in passing, but what does this have to do with the job?”
“It has everything to do with the job my fair skinned friend. You see,” he continued as he lowered his voice and ushered Derex closer. “Rumor has it that the dear inquisitor is the owner of an object that is very rare these days, an object that Bazlo would like to acquire.”
It was Derex turn to use a sarcastic tongue, “The suspense is killing me Frassz. What is it?”
“A lightsaber,” Frassz whispered, as if simply uttering the word could bring about some dreadful calamity.
Derex’s eyes grew wide as he almost choked on the deathstick. “Are you joking me?
“No joke Derex. You better get that lightsaber for Bazlo or….”
“I get it, I get it. But just how the hell am I supposed to get this? Wherever the Inquisitor has it kept its probably under so much security I would never stand a chance.”
“Well you’re half right. According to our information the inquisitor has it stored in his transport ship which is heavily guarded. However, we have come up with a way to get you in?”
“Why am I afraid to ask” Derex sighed once more as he saw the wide grin that had made its way onto the rodian’s face.
“You’re flexible right?”
Eavesdropping
19 Epsilon 75
Baron Oldrak’s Study - Bertrayn Palace, Plateau City
17:24
Arica smiled softly to herself as she wandered the length of her uncle’s study, swishing her long skirt from side to side as she walked. Quietly she hummed a few bars of ’Once I had a secret love’ by Interstellar Ella and then laughed lightly, trailing her fingers along the row of leather bound texts that flanked the wall.
Was she in love with the handsome thief that had broken into the palace only a few days ago? Arica doubted that she would ever see him again, not that she was entirely sure that she even wanted to. Despite all his boyish charms and conceited arrogance, he was still a thief. But even so… Arica had found it hard to get him out of her mind and their encounter had been terribly romantic – just like Rosaria Fontana’s ‘Beautiful Lives’ – a roguish stranger, a daring escape… a parting kiss.
“Oh Arica,” she berated herself laughingly, removing one of the books from the shelf and holding it against her breast. “Sometimes you really are a silly little girl… what would Captain Moriss think if he saw you mooning over some boy you don’t even know. Just because he kissed you…”
Slumping down into one of Oldrak’s large, leather upholstered chairs; Arica absently flicked through the book still in her hands. Garim… his rejection still hurt, despite his noble reasons. She had really put herself on the line, laid out all her innermost feelings to him, and Garim… he’d thrown it all back in her face. Oh, of course Arica knew that there was some truth in his words, just like Daell before him had warned how the unequal nature of their social class could present problems. But Arica didn’t want to think about that, all she could think of was the way Captain Moriss made her feel…
“Oh yes,” she said softly as she slumped further into the depths of the armchair, tucking her feet up beneath herself, “a silly little girl indeed…”
“I think you’ll find my offer more than generous Baron. Besides, the good favour of the Empire is without price.”
Arica felt herself stiffen at the sudden voice, it came from behind where she sat in the direction of the antechamber to her uncle’s study. Stealing a quick peek around the chair, she saw two men entering the room, one was her uncle and the other… the other she didn’t recognise but he was wearing the uniform and insignia of an Imperial officer.
“Well that greatly depends,” said Oldrak soberly, “upon what your offer entails. Of course, the last thing I would want to do is offend the Empire, Lieutenant. But my family and I have built up a very profitable business here on Vorgrell-“
“-Which the Emperor is fully aware of,” interrupted Akula, “you have considerable influence, Baron. But the presence of the Empire is here to stay, we are the new power in the universe now, but… for those that have proved their loyalty there are substantial rewards to be reaped. As you know, Vorgrell is rich in mineral deposits which are of great value to the Empire, this little planet will no doubt, eventually need a new Governor. Someone who knows the locals and how to keep them in line… someone the Empire can trust…”
Hearing their footsteps approaching, Arica pressed herself even further into the depths of the armchair. Subconsciously, her fingers tightened around the hardback cover of the book and she held her breath. It wasn’t just the prospect of being caught in her uncle’s study that unnerved her… no, it was more of a feeling, a bad feeling about what was taking place here between her Uncle and this Lieutenant. A feeling that made her increasingly anxious not to be caught eavesdropping on their conversation.
“In the meantime,” continued Akula, “I’m sure the Empire could direct much profitable business your way, intergalactic contracts the likes of which would make your business here on Vorgrell look almost non-existent in comparison.”
Oldrak scratched his chin thoughtfully, he wasn’t in the habit of making deals with people like this Lieutenant Akula – a man who was by reputation untrustworthy and unpredictable. But ever since the Empire had taken control of the Galactic Senate many things had changed – and the Empire was a powerful alliance for anyone to have.
“And it’s just the one transport that you want sabotaging?”
“For now,” Akula smiled crookedly; he didn’t like the nobles of Vorgrell anymore than they liked the Empire but he could see how getting them on side – at least for the moment – would help solve his immediate problems. After that well… the whole lot could go fuck themselves as far as he was concerned – in fact Akula was pretty certain they probably did that anyway. *Bunch of inbreeds.*
“I have to be rid of these trouble makers before things get out of hand. If you could arrange for them to be… ’taken care of’ along with the shipment?”
“I think I can arrange that,” said Oldrak quietly, shaking hands with Akula, “we have a deal.”
The young Lieutenant smiled and walked towards the door, wiping his palm discreetly against his jacket. “Oh Baron…” he said, turning around before he reached the door, “there was one other thing you could perhaps assist me with? A rumour has reached my ear that the attack on Princess Zara may have been perpetrated by none other than the Duke Corin Archell himself.”
Oldrak laughed, “Surely you don’t believe in ghosts, Lieutenant? I’d have thought an Imperial Officer would know better than to believe idle gossip. I heard a rumour too that the Emperor was the one to break into Zara’s boudoir – just to ascertain the colour of her pyjamas.”
Outwardly Akula smiled but inside he was seething with rage for this ridiculous old man. What right did he have to laugh at him? When practically the whole of Plateau City knew him to be having his wicked way with the young Bakuran noblegirl in his charge! He was a dirty old pervert and no mistake, and after he’d outlived his usefulness Akula would take great pleasure in ousting him as a traitor to the Empire.
“You don’t seriously think that it’s possible do you?” asked Oldrak, his laughter dwindling out in response to Lieutenant Akula’s stony faced silence. “That Corin Archell might still be alive?”
“Anything is possible, Baron,” said Akula dryly, opening the door. “If you hear of anything…”
As the door closed behind the young Lieutenant, Oldrak was left alone to contemplate his actions. Walking over to his bureau, he was about to pour himself a stiff drink when he heard a rustle of fabric and a slight in-take of breath. Striding in the direction of the noise he felt his stomach harden with a knot of anxiety and, perceiving his niece’s presence he grabbed hold of her wrist tightly and dragged her out into the open.
“What did you hear?”
Arica nearly tripped on her dress as her uncle hoisted her out of the chair and up to her feet to face him. She trembled visibly and her eyes were wide with fear. “N-nuh-n-not-n-noh” she stammered nervously, unable to even form her words properly.
Oldrak sighed, his temper cooling as he gently stroked his fingers against Arica’s flushed cheek. “Shush, my dearest,” he said softly, “whatever you heard you’ll do best to just forget it, do you hear me?”
Releasing his rough hold on her wrist, Oldrak returned to his bureau and poured himself a large measure of Corellian Whisky, downing it in one gulp and shuddering before pouring himself another.
“H-how can I forget?” asked Arica warily, rubbing her sore wrist with her other hand. “Uncle… those poor innocent people that you’re supposed to take care of… He meant for you to kill them, didn’t he?”
“Arica…”
“How could you even think of making such a deal?” said Arica in alarm, “I’ve never had cause to disagree with what the Empire were doing but if this is the kind of thing that they’re capable of then my father-“
Oldrak replaced his glass on the table with a loud clatter. As much as he desired Arica and valued her opinion on certain matters he wasn’t about to let a mere chit of a girl tell him how to run his business. “-Your father is a fool,” he snapped, irritably. “He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut and when to shake hands with the devil – even when it’s for his own good.”
“Own good?” echoed Arica in disbelief, “how can arranging for people to be murdered be good? In any respect how can this kind of behaviour help us? It may benefit the Empire but these are OUR people!”
Arica tugged on Oldrak’s sleeve pleadingly, her eyes wide with desperation. “Uncle, some of them have worked for you their entire lives, as did their fathers and their fathers before them. They depend on you to take care of their best interests.”
Oldrak prised Arica from him and took hold of her hands firmly, maintaining a grip that forced her to look him in the face. “These people are traitors to the Empire,” he said sternly. “If they continue to oppose the new restrictions then strike will lead to revolt and then an entire Imperial army will be sent to Vorgrell; and then we will all be made to suffer. Is that what you want? To live under military control?”
Arica looked away dismally, “there must be another way, Uncle, there must be. Who is this Corin Archell? Perhaps he can help, the Lieutenant seemed rather worried about him…”
A low, sombre laugh escaped Oldrak’s lips and he released his niece’s hands. He walked over to his desk and picked up a holograph, gazing at the image for a moment before holding it out to Arica. “My dear, meet the late Duke Corin Archell.”
Oldrak sighed, sinking down into his armchair. “He was my Myklos’ closest friend, the two of them used to get into all sorts of trouble… but they were good boys really.”
Arica felt her breath catch in her throat as she took the holograph from her uncle and stared at the image of the two young men. On the left stood her ‘cousin’ Myklos, as handsome and carefree as she had always remembered him from all those times he’d visited her father on Coruscant when she had been little more than a child. The boy on the right though, the one her Uncle had called Duke Corin Archell – Arica was certain she had never met anyone by that name before and yet… yet she recognised Corin. Only he hadn’t been called Corin Archell when she’d met him, he’d been Velryn Cynein, Daell’s friend on board the Siren.
*Velryn…* she thought silently, *Velryn… is Corin Archell… Corin Archell is alive after all!*
“Arica?” sighed Oldrak wearily, reclining further into his chair, “sit with me.”
Arica kept the holograph tightly in her grip as she dutifully sat by her uncle’s feet, resting her cheek upon his knee when he motioned for her to do so. Loosening her hair so that it fell free down her back, Oldrak slowly combed his fingers through the long, dark locks, sighing again.
Arica remained silent, resting her cheek more comfortable against her uncle’s knee, but she was far from peaceful. Inside her mind was surging with questions – mostly about Velryn… *No, Corin,* she corrected herself. Arica supposed that she could understand why he had to lie about who he was. After all, if Corin Archell was supposed to be dead then he couldn’t very well go around letting people know that he was alive. But if this Lieutenant Akula had already heard rumours that he was still alive, then there was a chance that he could be in real danger.
“This deal with Akula…” said Oldrak suddenly, interrupting Arica’s train of thought. “It really isn’t as terrible as it seems, a few people, trouble makers, go missing – it’s such a small price to maintain our way of life.”
Arica sighed. That was the other problem she was wrestling with, how could she sit idly by and do nothing when innocent people were killed just because they were an inconvenience to the Empire’s plans to mine Vorgrell? How could life be measured in terms of productivity and mineral volume? But what could she really do? What could a girl who had barely raised her voice or stepped a foot out of line in her entire life possibly do to help?
“You’ll see…” soothed Oldrak gently as he continued to comb his fingers through Arica’s hair. “Trust in me and everything will work out just fine.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
19 Epsilon 75
Shipwreck – The Miner’s Bar
21:21
Jason Prian considered himself lucky in many ways.
Being a miner wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid well… or at least it had, until the Empire showed up. Lieutenant Akula made one of his early actions ordering everyone’s wages slashed, which made it more difficult for Jason to support his family. After a month of struggling to get by, one of his friends made an introduction that changed his life.
Now he had enough to get by on, even provide for his family. There was just one problem.
Another shipment went missing.
Downing another shot of his drink, he waiting for the representative he was supposed to be meeting to show up nervously. The guild would be the least of his worries, since it expected to lose a shipment every now and then. When you answered to someone in the Syndicate, though, they didn’t take failure likely. Krell had a reputation: the first time, you learned from your mistake.
If it happened again, you never had a chance to fail a third time.
Raising an eyebrow, he noticed the woman deftly moving her way through the crowd. From the way she walked, it was obvious that she carried a certain confidence in her ability to defend herself. Checking his watch, Jason saw that it was just in time as she slipped down into the booth across from him.
“We have a matter to discuss,” she said rather matter of factly. “I believe you have some information?”
“Yeah.” Jason swallowed hard, unsure of how to go on. She didn’t identify herself, but then, Krell’s people never did. They just had a look about them, one that she had. Then again, with things that had been going on… “How do I know that the Boss sent you?”
“If I worked for anyone else, you would either be dead or I would be accompanied by Stormtroopers.”
Jason nodded, accepting the explanation. It was true enough, after all: Bazlo would kill anyone working for Krell without a second though, while the Empire would never bother with a charade. “I think we have a leak.”
The woman didn’t betray any of her surprise, instead resting one arm on the back of her chair as she turned sideways. He couldn’t tell if she was surprised, or upset. Though he didn’t know it, Lianna was neither of these. More concerned at what it could mean. “Krell has already determined that probably isn’t the case.”
She saw the man look a little nervous at that, and could only guess at what he was thinking. Probably wondering if he would ultimately take the blame for the missing shipments. Three of them so far went missing, which meant that heads might soon be rolling.
Including his.
“Prian, nobody is blaming you,” she reassured him, while mentally adding a yet to herself. The truth of the matter was that there could be a leak, but that would have to be determined by exactly who was making these attacks. “We both know that shipments our employer has a hand in are not the only ones to have vanished.”
The other seemed to relax a little at that, steadying himself as he reached for his drink. “Which confuses the hell out of us. We don’t have a clue what’s happening.”
“Have you tried tracking them, have them report in more?”
“The foreman did that with the last two that vanished. As far as he can tell, transmissions are getting jammed by someone.”
Lianna thought in silence for several minutes on this. Her companion seemed to grow ever more nervous, as though not sure what to make of it as she considered the possibilities. If transmissions were getting jammed, it probably meant a deliberate attack rather than an accident.
It could have been Bazlo the Hutt… but then, if it were him, there shouldn’t be other ones getting attacked. There were far too many possibilities with Vorgrell politics being what they were as well. There seemed to be only one solution. “I will accompany the next shipment,” Lianna told him. “See to it that the shipment is noticeable, and has at least one opportune time for someone to attack it.”
“Attack?” he sounded surprised at the suggestion. “You want someone to attack it?”
“If that is what is happening, yes. When is the next shipment scheduled?”
“The Twenty-Third,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation. “Getting delayed; the Bertrayns are reassigning people for some reason.”
“Fine. We’ll see what happens, then. On the twenty-third, I’ll accompany the shipment – tell the captain that I’ve been contracted to assess security arrangements, given the recent troubles.”
"HELP... I need somebody, HELP... not just anybody...&q
19 Epsilon 75
Outside Captain Moriss’ Chambers - Bertrayn Palace, Plateau City
23:45
It was much later when Arica was finally able to steal herself away from her uncle’s company. After several more glasses of Corellian Whisky, Oldrak had eventually slipped into a peaceful slumber from which he’d not so much as stirred even as Arica loosened herself from his paternal embrace and quietly left the room.
Pausing outside Garim’s door, Arica took a moment to compose herself before knocking. She hoped that he would be here and not out on patrols or guard duty somewhere, because in truth she didn’t know who else to turn to. What she’d overheard in her uncle’s study had left her simultaneously afraid and anxious, but at the same time Arica knew that she had to do something to help those poor workers before any part of Lieutenant Akula’s vile plan could be put into action, and she had to get word to Velryn – Corin Archell – she had to warn him. But to do any of that she needed help, she needed Captain Moriss’ help.
“Ar- Miss Odari?” said Garim in surprise as he opened the door. Hastily he began straightening out his attire, tucking his vest back into his pants and refastening his jacket up to his chest. Cautiously, he glanced down the length of the corridor behind the young girl, looking to see if anyone had observed her coming.
“Is er… I mean, why? …Arica, what are you doing here?” he asked uneasily.
Arica’s stomach did a small somersault upon seeing the handsome captain again, his relaxed, slightly unkempt appearance only making her heart flutter even more. Ever since that evening in the library they’d maintained a discreet, professional distance, only being alone together if it was entirely unavoidable. Arica felt an ache in her heart from that enforced separation, though she had no guide by which to measure the strength of her feelings, every fibre of her being sang out that she was in love, she was in love, she was in love!
“I… I didn’t mean to disturb you so late but… May I come inside, please?”
Garim hesitated a moment before stepping sideways to allow Arica into the apartment. His eyes followed her as she wandered inside, her back tensely straight and her hands clasped tightly together in an obvious attempt to control any unwanted fidgeting. Watching her, Garim tried his hardest not to think of how he had held her in his arms and tangled his fingers in her silken locks, of her warm, compliant body pressed close against his own… of that kiss and the softness of Arica’s lips and the taste of her mouth.
“Arica…” he said quietly, trying to push all those thoughts aside. “I’m, well I’m glad to see you but if anyone should find you here-“
“-It’s okay,” said Arica softly, turning to face Garim. “I was careful this time. I wasn’t followed.” Turning away again, she absently eyed the bed where Garim had made love to her – not with his body but with his words and his gentle, adulating kiss.
Slowly she trailed her hand across the iron frame of the footboard, her fingers curling around the spherical bedknob at the end. “You… you don’t need to worry,” she said hesitantly, raising her head and peering from beneath her dark curls at Garim’s worried face. “I promise that… that I won’t embarrass you further by throwing myself at you a second time.”
Garim sighed uncomfortably as Arica allowed her hair to fall across her face and she turned away again. Ever since that evening five days ago when she had kissed him with such hesitant expectation and so openly declared her affection for him with little thought for propriety or caution. Ever since that evening, he’d been unable to think of anything else except how much he must have hurt her.
Garim knew what such a display of affection had cost Arica. For someone like her to so openly lay out her feelings without reserve, a girl who had been taught from birth the value of decorum and modesty… it was almost unheard of. Garim knew that by rejecting her he had done irreparable damage and for what? He did have feelings for her, very strong feelings in fact. In the end, he had not refused Arica because of his lack of attachment but out of duty, out of honour for herself and her family who, he could not delude himself into believing, would ever approve of such an alliance.
“I don’t doubt it,” he said in solemn reply. “I behaved dishonourably to you when any man in their right mind should have been counting their blessings that a young woman such as yourself would even so much as give him a passing glance. I certainly would not expect to be so doubly blessed twice in one lifetime.”
Arica shook her head forlornly, her eyes taking on a mournful expression. “Do you know how you torment me when you say such things?” she asked, “to know that you have feelings for me but refuse to acknowledge them?”
Sighing heavily, Arica raised her gaze so that it was level with Garim’s, their eyes meeting across the room. “But that isn’t why I risked coming here tonight. I came because I… I need your help. You’re the only person I can turn to, you’re the only one I trust.”
Sensing her anxiety, Garim gestured for Arica to sit in the armchair while he perched himself on the edge of the bed. He watched her for a few minutes; her forced austerity did not easily mask the varied emotions that played out across her face, whatever had brought Arica to his door must indeed be serious, serious enough to have her knocking on his door close on midnight.
“Is this about your Aunt Irina?” he asked warily, “she hasn’t hurt you again has she?”
“No, no,” refuted Arica hastily; “it’s nothing like that. I…” she shook her head and fell silent for a moment, squeezing her hands together tightly in her lap. “Tonight I… I overheard something in my uncle’s study, something that I really shouldn’t have heard. But now that I have… Garim, my conscience won’t allow me to ignore it. What I heard affects the lives of hundreds of people, and also one person in particular. I need you to help me, if nothing else can be done we must at least warn them.”
Garim frowned, “what people? Arica, what’s going on?”
Realising that she must elaborate, Arica nodded and continued. “Tonight my uncle had a meeting with one of the Imperial officers, Lieutenant Akula, they… they made a deal. Akula wants my uncle to arrange for one of his transport shipments to be sabotaged, and in the process to dispose of several people that the Empire deems troublesome. They want them killed Garim.”
Arica sighed in worry, “Uncle Oldrak tried to assure me that it was a necessary evil to protect our way of life and… and I don’t know, maybe it is. He seemed to think that if the ore mine workers were to continue to protest the way they have been then it would lead to the whole of Vorgrell being under Imperial rule.”
Garim studied Arica’s troubled face for a while, she wasn’t even looking at him anymore, in fact she looked decidedly uncomfortable. “You don’t think that’s a possibility?”
“I think that… that it may probably happen regardless,” admitted Arica quietly. “That if the Empire wants control of Vorgrell they will take it no matter what. That sacrificing anyone just to save ourselves may indeed be a necessary evil, but it’s not the kind of evil I want any part of.”
“Yes, I agree,” said Garim simply, with clear admiration for they young girl in his eyes. It was true that she was young but she had a maturity and kindness of heart that far surpassed her eighteen years. “But how can I help? Who am I to warn if we don’t know when or where this attack will happen?”
Arica slowly rose from her chair, walking the length of the small room before turning back to Garim. “We could contact The Captain’s Guild,” she said after a moment’s thought. “Maybe if we told them of possible bandits or slave trader attacks on shipments in the area – especially those ferrying the mining crews, they would at least be on their guard. I know it isn’t much but I don’t know what else we could do.”
“I will contact the Admiralty first thing in the morning,” Garim promised faithfully, “don’t worry Arica, I’ll make sure they’re forewarned. I only wish there was more I could do to help.”
“There was one other thing,” said Arica gently, sitting down on the bed next to Garim. “I said there was somebody else, someone who I had to warn also.” She inhaled lightly, biting her lower lip in concern. “What I tell you, you have to swear not to repeat to another soul. Promise me.”
Garim nodded. “I promise.”
“Lieutenant Akula mentioned a man called Corin Archell. I have to admit that I didn’t recognise the name at first though afterwards I remembered that the Archell’s were once one of the prominent noble houses on Vorgrell.”
“Yes,” agreed Garim, his eyes taking on a wistful air, “the same night that Myklos was killed also saw the death of Duke Archell’s only son, Corin - in a manner of speaking. He was never seen again after that night as were his family, the whole Archell house were arrested and sentenced to hard labour in the Kessel spice mines.”
“Corin is alive,” whispered Arica, pressing her hand upon Garim’s arm and looking deep into his eyes. “And he’s here, in Plateau City. You see… I’d heard of him but I’d never seen him before, as you said, many of the noble houses were dismantled before I even came to Vorgrell. But when I heard his name and I asked my uncle, he showed me a picture of him and Myklos.”
Arica tightened her fingers around the sleeve of Garim’s shirt, her eyes widening. “I recognised him straight away. He’s Velryn Cynein, the friend of Daell’s on board the Siren Song that I told you about. Velryn is Corin Archell.”
Garim shook his head and rose to his feet. He walked over to the dresser by the far wall and leaned against it as he tried to take in what Arica had said. “I don’t… I don’t believe it,” he mumbled quietly, “I guess I always thought that if he’d managed to survive escaping he would have returned to reassume his rightful place on the council. Everyone just assumed that he’d never made it.”
“He’s alive, and well,” said Arica softly. She knew how much that night still preyed on the captain’s mind, despite his reluctance to ever talk about it. Garim blamed himself for the death of Oldrak and Irina’s only son and that blame weighed heavy on his heart.
“I have to warn him about Akula,” she added gently, rising from the bed and standing behind Garim, placing a kindly hand upon his shoulder. “But I need your help. I need you to take me to Daell.”
“No,” said Garim firmly, shaking his head. He turned around to face the young girl, taking hold of her by the shoulders. “Allow me to go on my own with the message, there is no need for you to be there.”
“No need except that Daell saved my life,” Arica declared passionately, “Corin too, they both looked after me and I owe them this much. Please, Garim! There must be a way for me to come with you…”
Arica suddenly slipped free from Garim’s hold and moved over to the arching fireplace that flanked the furthest wall – taking up far too much space for such a small room. “There are passageways, all over the palace,” she explained, skimming her hands across the smooth contours of the surround. “That’s how I left the palace last time, through a door behind my mirror. There’s a passageway that can take us all the way to the Starport without us even stepping outside.”
She returned to Garim, her eyes pleading. “I can wait there while you find Daell, then you can come back for me and we can go together. Afterwards we’ll return to the palace and no one will ever know we were gone.”
“Secret passageways?” said Garim incredulously, a slow smile steadily erupting across his face. He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re really something you know that?”
Arica smiled, “then you’ll help me?”
“I will.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
17 Epsilon 75
Early evening
A green light signaled the ‘OK’ as the scanner finished its detection of the crate. With a wave of the Stormtroopers hand, it then passed up the conveyor belt and into the Inquisitors ship.
“Everything looks in order. Now that all the supplies are in, you can reactivate the defenses,” the lead trooper announced to his garrison as they began securing the ship.
Unfortunately, all was not as in order as the commander would have liked to believe. Despite what the scanner droid announced, one crate held more than meets the eye.
“I hope your flexible Derex,” the man huffed imitating the rodian who gave him the mission as he pushed open the lid of the metal box. Wriggling his way out, Derex couldn’t help but marvel at just how much resources Bazlo had at his disposal. Thanks to the bazaar cylindrical device in his hand, the scanner droid had failed to detect him in the crate thus giving him a free passage into arguably one of the best guarded places in Vorgrel.
*This is so cool*
Hot blood began to pump through his veins as he began to maneuver his way through the small ship. *One lightsabre coming up*.
Corin groaned but was otherwise thankful he had recieved a brief respite from the torture. His entire body ached. All he really wanted to do was to go to sleep - but he knew from training and experience that he didn't have time for that. He had to use this respite productively because he might not get another one. He had to think. There had to be a way out somewhere, somehow. All he had to do was get out of the chair he was strapped into, open the locked door, sneak back into the treasure room and retrieve the chip and all of his equipment and sneak off the ship...
Sure. Right. Corin thought, using what was left of his energy very wisely - being sarcastic. Why don't I single-handedly resurrect the Jedi Order whilst I'm at it?
And all the while he tried to think, going round in circles over and over again, his mind kept slipping into a semi-sleep state. He couldn't even stay awake to berate himself or hope they didn't backtrack him to Daell.
“Where the hell is this blasted thing!” Derex cursed as he adjusted the eye scanner on his mask. *Not sure what to even look for other than a metal shaft really* He had already found 3 would be lightsabres, unfortunately, two had turned out to be flares, and one a cylindrical neuro shocker. *Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that thing* he shivered, imagining briefly what it would feel like to be tortured with one.
His eyes made the tour of yet another room before he paused picking up something briefly. Behind the door of a closet, a large heat signature imitated as clear as the sun in the sky. *Could it be a person?*
Creeping over, Derex went to open the door, only to discover it was locked. Obviously something valuable was behind - maybe he was actually onto something.
When the door beeped, denying access to whoever was trying to get in, Corin missed it. He was in the middle of a groggy moment and remained so for some time. By the point he came back round again, the door was being tried once more. Except this time, it opened.
Corin prepared himself for another round of torture. Just for the sake of appearances, he attempted to look up and sneer at Severus or his lethal handmaiden. Maybe fire off some witty comment. In the end he only just managed to raise his head without pass passing out and as it was his vision swam. His cheap shot turned into nothing more than a groan. His groan was cut short. From what he could make out, the figure stood in the doorway wasn't the armoured bulk of the Major or the torturess. What the...? He managed to wonder.
The thief froze.
Behind the door, Derex found something much stranger than a weapon of the old Jedi order.
“Corin…” The word tumbled from his lips barely above a whisper. It was impossible, the Duke died the day of the coup along with Prince Zayen, everyone knew that. *Especially me* Derex had lost all his best friends that night, it was a day he would never forget.
Something clicked and suddenly Corin was wide-awake. The voice - yes, the height was about right...and of course. The leg. It was him. Corin couldn't believe what he seemed to be seeing. As if out of nowhere, here was this chance. If he hadn't been so much been so much in pain, he might have actually laughed. "Derex...is that...you?"
For that brief moment, Derex forgot where he was. A huge smile widened on his face as he ripped off his mask and rushed forwards to undo the locks holding his friend. “Cor, you’re alive, you’re actually alive!”
He worked quickly undoing the constraints, pausing only briefly as he noticed the bruises, burns and cuts his friend sported. The damage had passed unnoticed due to the shock of the situation, but now that Derex had noticed, his jovial tone turned much more serious. “Who did this to you?” Although the man was generally happy-go-lucky, he had a fiery temper when it came to his friends’ well being, and even in his state, Corin could tell what Derex was implying.
"No..." Corin gasped, trying to push aside the fatigue that threatened to swamp him. It felt like his head was spinning one way and his mind was spinning in the other direction. As Derex pulled him to his feet Corin half-wished he was still sitting down. His breathing was heavy and laboured and every time he opened his mouth to speak he had to struggle to get the words out.
Then damnit, I'll struggle! This was important - far too important for Derex to run off on a vengeance trip. The irony of his words didn't occur to him. "No...not worth it. Need...data...chip..."
“Oh yeah, cause I’m going to let whoever did this get away with it? Has it been so long that you don’t remember anything about me?” Derex replied as he slowly maneuvered Corin’s less damaged arm around his shoulders. “And what’s all this blabbering about a data chip? If anything we need to get you to a doctor, pronto!”
At this point, the would be thief had all but forgotten about his assigned task, and was concentrating his full attention on getting he and Corin out alive.
Damn you Derex. I knew you were going to be the death of me. Corin cursed, summouning the last of his strength. With a sudden burst of action he brought them both to a stop. He gripped the back of Derex's neck with one hand and glared at him with a
all the noble force and arrogance he could muster. "No, the chip is more important! Take me to the treasure room, now!" He barked, as if he was a spoilt brat demanding his lifeguard take him home.
Derex’s eyes narrowed as he studied Corin’s bruised and battered face. Despite his weary, defeated state, the duke did not budge or avert his gaze for one second. “Some things never change you stubborn….” The thief mumbled the rest, letting the swear words get muffled into his short chuckle. Obviously the duke was on a mission and Derex knew that he wouldn’t get his friend out before they finished that obligation. “So, I see you’ve been keeping busy.”
"You might say that..." Corin answered, slumping back onto Derex's shoulders and closing his eyes. There was something akin to a miniature rancor in his head eating its way out. At least that's what his pounding, throbbing head felt like. It didn't even occur to him to wonder what Derex was doing here or how he had got in. "I'll tell you more...but...no time. In the treasure room, behind the safe...quickly..."
Derex moved slowly, doing his best not to cause any pain to the duke. “What exactly is on this data chip that is worth all this,” he asked, his curiosity being peaked. Maybe the lightsabre was in the safe also, and if so, Derex wouldn’t have to leave empty handed and risk facing Bazlo’s wrath. Otherwise, he really didn’t have much time to keep looking, what with Corin half dead hanging off his shoulders.
Briefly, Corin considered telling Derex about Zayen and Zara and the assassination attempt, but at the last moment he decided against it. It would take too much time to explain it properly - more time than they had. No, it would be best to tell him after. Keep Derex focused for now. "I can't say...explain later. I promise I'll tell you everything, just get it and me...out of here..." He allowed himself to chuckle even though it hurt. "Preferably in one piece, Derex..."
“Come on Corin, aren’t I always getting you out of tough situations?” the thief replied jokingly. In truth, Corin was always getting Derex out of trouble back before the coup, always acting as a protector when the thief opened his big fat mouth, inevitably insulting someone at one of their many watering holes.
But Corin didn't answer. Even under normal circumstances his patience with Derex ran out very quickly and these certainly weren't normal circumstances. He kept quiet and saved his strength for encouraging his aching muscles and limbs to move as much as possible so as not to be a burden to Derex. As the theif half-carried, half-dragged him out of the cell Corin turned his attention to pushing through his fatigue and keep an eye out for guards or worse - the Major's attendant or Serverus himself.
Fortunately the ship's occupants seemed to be attending to other duties and, as the trophy room was close by, they arrived without incident. "There, behind the safe." Corin whispered as they stepped through the doorway, having got most of his breath back. The pain of the last day's torture was starting to wear off as adrenaline took over - adrenaline and not a little determination.
“I’m on it,” Derex whispered back, gently leaning his friend against the wall while he went to investigate. “Why the hell would this be in back instead of in the safe, doesn’t seem very logical does it.”
Corin’s scowl was answer enough that he was not in the mood for any of the thief’s jokes or shenanigans, so Derex simply grabbed the data chip that rested in a pile of dust and hurried back to the Duke’s side. “Got it! So now how about we get the hell out of here?”
"For once, Derex, I couldn't agree with you more." Corin said as he was hauled back up to his feet. As the data chip was pressed into his hand he felt a sudden surge of releif. We're going to make it. We're going to do this... He tightened his grip around the tiny chip until he could feel the cold hard metal pressing deeply into his skin and his knuckles whitened. This better be worth it. Derex grinned and guided him towards the door but just as they were about to leave Corin brought them up sharp with a sudden and surprisingly display of strength. Derex looked round to see Corin staring past him.
"My equipment." The exiled Duke explained, pointing at his guns and pouch resting on a table. "I'm not leaving it here to be souvenirs for that damned Inquisitor."
“Cor, it’s only equipment, you can get more some other time.” Derex tried to dissuade his friend, but another scowl proved to be his only response. “Gee, glad to see you’re still the same big glowing sun of happiness I used to know,” he joked sarcastically as he hauled Corin over to his gear. Inspecting the various weapons and armor, the thief could only surmise that Corin had also changed professions since last they saw each other. “Strange gear for one of Vorgrell’s aristocracy wouldn’t you say?”
"Not now, Derex." Corin chastened the theif, pointedly not bringing up exactly why he also was on board an Imperial Inquisitor's ship. Continuing his sudden burst of energy, Corin pulled on his gear. With every blaster he reholstered he felt even better. Going through the process of 'kitting up' - as old Lieutenant Brask back at the Acadamey had called it - made him feel stronger by the second. Even though he knew attempting to fight their way out would be insane, the familiar presence of his equipment reassured him and calmed his nerves which had been frayed since the night before. Plus the thought of denying the Inquisitor even a few trophies was a bonus.
By the time he was done, Corin could nearly stand unaided. "Right," He said, turning to Derex and summouning back some of that old noble presence, "now we can leave."
As the two turned towards the exit, their fears were realized as a patrolling officer caught notice of them during his rounds. “Hey you, stop right where you are!” The guard wasted no time, as he opened fire, though luckily his first laser missed Derex’s head by an inch.
Seeing that the second shot was aimed at Corin, Derex was quick to react, grabbing his friend and spinning so he exchanged places with the Duke, allowing his arm shield to block the attack as he retaliated with his own wrist blaster.
A tiny stream of smoke wisped up from the man’s chest as the guard fell to the ground. “Look at me, that’s twice I save you in one night,” he teased, as he stepped over the fallen patrol man.
Corin grunted, his hand gripping the butt of his blaster where it still hung at his side. "Huh. Saved me? Doomed us more like. They probably heard that all the way to the Imperial Garrison." Stepping over the corpse as well he peered into the corridoor beyond but could see no signs of anyone having heard the blaster shots. "Right, lets get him hidden away somewhere. I do hope you have a good escape route, Derex."
“Well I had a way out for myself, but it doesn’t look like ill be able to use that now that I’m carrying all this extra weight now does it?” he snipped back, falling into the old habit of arguing with Corin. “So Mr. Academy of special ops super commando boy, any bright ideas?”
Corin was half-way into voicing a witty retort when he paused. He looked down. He smiled. "Actually now that you mention it, yes, yes I do."
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
17 Epsilon 75
Evening
Aboard the Anaphedros
Severus frowned at his computer screen. He was frowning partly in trying to make sense of what he was reading and partly due to a wicked headache that had come on as a result of a power fluctuation in his armour’s power field. Zastra sat across the room, the Major’s helmet in her lap, making some adjustments to correct the imbalance.
The Major, in the mean time, puzzled over the data he’d received from three separate informants. He had been annoyed when the information had first arrived, marked “urgent,” as he had wanted to continue questioning his prisoner, the Duke. However, Zastra’s over-zealousness with her new toy had caused Archell to black out for a considerable amount of time and the Major didn’t fancy sitting around waiting. And now… now, with this new information, Corin Archell had been bumped down to number two priority.
“Two days ago,” muttered Severus, scratching his chin and enjoying the rare opportunity to be without his helmet. “The encounter was two days ago, yet only now does he send me news of it?”
“With all due respect, sir,” said Zastra, not looking up from her work. “His employers would have him executed if they were aware he was in communication with you at all. We know from past experience that he must go to considerable lengths to avoid detection. Most likely, it took him two days to set up a secure transmission away from prying eyes. Regardlesss,” she continued. “if the information is accurate, its timing is still acceptable.”
She was right, of course, Severus thought. He smiled slightly, realising that that was probably the most Zastra had said since their arrival on Vorgrell, a planet she admitted from the beginning she didn’t like.
His smile faded as he returned his attention to the screen.
Marga Nada. Jedi Knight. On the fast track to becoming a member of the Jedi Council before its… dissolution. Alive. It was that last part that caught Severus off-guard. Nada was reported killed by clone troopers about two-thirds of the way through Lord Vader’s great purge. His lightsabre was even presented to the Emperor as proof of his death. But according to three different sources, the old Jedi was alive and well and apparently trying to track done the individual responsible for the death of his Padawan.
Severus thought of the lightsabre in his trophy room and smiled.
Let the stupid old bastard come, he thought. Better to fight another Jedi Master than to continue playing enforcer for Harkness and that insufferable sack of Bantha turds Akula. It certainly wouldn’t be easy. Severus hadn’t gone toe-to-toe with any Jedi, let alone a Master, in nearly a year and Vorgrell had thus far offered him little in the way of physical challenges. He’d need to practice his swordplay and soon.
His computer beeped. Another message about Nada? No, this time an informant in the Imperial Information Agency headquarters on Coruscant writing to let him know that a woman had been asking about him. He scanned the rest of the message until he found her name.
“By the Emperor’s shrivelled old balls…”
Zastra looked up with a cocked brow and a barely-contained smirk.
“Master?”
“Apparently, Beru Camus has been inquiring after my whereabouts,” he said, puzzled, but not entirely unpleased.
Handing the Major his repaired helmet, Zastra looked at the name on the screen.
“I’m sorry, sir, should I know the name?”
“No, no. I haven’t seen or heard from Beru since… since before I became imprisoned in this armour,” he said, donning his helmet and sealing the neck joint. “She’s nothing to worry about. We need to send out feelers to our contacts on and near Vorgrell to keep an eye out for Marga Nada. Send around a holo as well – he’ll most likely be using an alias.”
Zastra nodded and began executing the order when a sound from the far side of the ship caught their attention.
“What was that?,” asked the Major.
“Blaster fire. Two shots.”
Each grabbing a blaster from the small weapons locker, the pair headed toward the source of the noise.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
17 Epsilon 75
Late Evening
The stormtrooper walked nonchalantly away from the Anaphedros. If anybody noticed any stiffening in the trooper’s movements, they’d probably relate it to the shining white armour, obviously uncomfortable, or the fact that he was leading another man, at gunpoint, through the maze of landing pits. Sometimes he pushed his prisoner in front of him, and spoke harshly to him, as if to make him move faster. A more observant watcher would probably notice that it wasn’t pushing but leaning, and not cursing but directing the other man. Fortunately, nobody was that observant when it came to stormtroopers and their prisoners. Not among the starport folk, at least.
Corin waited until half a dozen ships were in between them and the Inquisitor's vessel before he even looked in the same direction as Daell's ship. When he was certain nobody was watching the Siren's Song he nudged Derex in that direction. "To the YT-2400. Yes, that one."
Derex nodded and neatly changed direction, falling in to Corin's step again perfectly. For the second time, Corin wondered at how easily Derex was able to convincingly appear to be a prisoner. "Hey, man. Do you really have to hold on so tightly?" He asked, squirming in Corin's hold
"Stop that or you'll draw attention to us." Corin growled, trying to appear casual
Well, as casual as he could be in stormtrooper armour having just literally walked out of an Inquisitor's personal ship through the front door.
Derex chuckled under his breath but returned to being still again. He had forgotten how easy it was to wind up the old Duke. "So is that your getaway? It looks more like a pleasure yacht."
Damnit, can't he ever be serious about anything? Thought Corin, carefully considering two starport security personnel out of the corner of his eye. "No it’s not and yes it is. It’s Daell's ship."
"Daell?!" The thief exclaimed, forgetting himself and looking up at the impassive stormtrooper helmet.
But Corin was looking elsewhere. One of the security personnel had spotted them. Now both were heading over. Son of a gun...not now, please not now. "Quiet."
Derex took the hint and returned to playing prisoner. As the guards drew closer Corin began to seriously panic. They were making a beeline straight for them. "Move it along!" He growled at Derex, adding in a shove to make it look convincing.
The thief stumbled and nearly fell. Straightening up he gave Corin a betrayed glare. Once again, though, Corin wasn't watching. The two security guards had drawn alongside now.
One, a lieutenant by the look of his insignia, nodded at him. The other saluted and Corin had to restrain a laugh. It had been a while since anybody had saluted him. He simply nodded and gave Derex another little push closer to the Siren.
"Do that again," Derex muttered, "and I'll ram that blaster right up your ass. Stormtrooper armour or no stormtrooper armour."
Daell jumped off her bulk when she heard the Siren’s alarm. “Damn it, damn it, damn it,” she shouted as she took her blaster from under the pillow. She run to the door and palmed it open. Whoever it was it was already inside the Siren, and she couldn’t understand it. Only Corin had access to the ship, and it wouldn’t have set off the alarm if it were him.
Sticking to the wall, Daell advanced quickly towards the access deck. Her bare feet made no noise and she had her blaster up and alert. Passing a surveillance panel, she deftly keyed a code and the screen illuminated with an image. A stormtrooper… and what looked like his prisoner. Daell squinted and got closer to the screen, was that… could it be… Derex? Then the stormtrooper took off his helmet and Daell sighed in relief. Lowering her weapon, she run all the way to the deck.
“No no no!” Derex said, pretending to struggle backwards in fear, as Daell joined them. “Please don’t take me to the beautiful Twi’lek girl! Oh noooo, what a horrible fate, curse you Empire scum!”
He could feel Corin’s furious gaze even, but he didn’t care; the ramp was already closing them in, and the other guards could not see or hear his joke. “I guess this teaches me for being a bad boy eh?” He flirted shamelessly as he gave Daell a playful wink and strolled into the ship.
Daell exchanged an exasperated glance with Corin, but she couldn’t help smiling as she followed him into the ship. “Come on, by all means, Mr. Foxx. You’re welcome to my ship!”
"Derex, shut up. This is no time for jokes." The frustration that had been building inside Corin was finally allowed release and he did not hold back. He had a lot to say in very little time and he did not show any signs of caring that he was sounding like a drill instructor or arrogant noble. "Daell, listen closely. I need you to get this to Cael." From the belt of the stormtrooper armour Corin produced the data chip. For a moment he played with it in his fingers. Such a little thing that could be so big - and nearly cost him his life. He held it up between forefinger and thumb. "Don't ask why, don't ask what it is, just do it."
“Corin, we’re SAFE now so take out the twist in your commando undies and just calm down,” Derex said, ignoring his friend’s stern commands. “Why don’t you have a drink, rest up, and let us all in on why this little data chip was worth risking our necks for.”
Corin was about to speak but Derex cut him off quickly. “AND I would just like to point out that I abandoned a very lucrative business transaction in favour of saving your captured and tortured ass,” he finished with a cheeky smile.
Daell fought to hide her smile. She had forgotten how… Derex Derex was.
“You know, Corin. I love when you have homework for me,” she said, in a light tone, but she didn’t take her eyes off Corin’s as extended her hand to take the chip. She had a little more clue of how important that data chip could be, even if she had no idea what it actually contained.
The chip was barely out of his hand before Corin stormed over to where Derex stood - quite a sight still in his stormtrooper armour - and gripped him by the front of his jacket. His nerves were shot and his patience non-existent. He was not in the mood for Derex's light-hearted bantering. In his fury he hoisted Derex up and slammed him against the wall. "We are not safe, I will not calm down, and you will shut up before I shoot you, damnit!"
After his sudden outburst, Corin spent a few moments giving Derex what he used to call his father's 'gaze of death' and cooling down. When the blood had drained out of his face he at last let go of his old friend and turned away, stretching out one arm to rest against a bulkhead. He felt very tired now - no, not just tired but drained mentally, physically and emotionally. "We have about thirty seconds before they realise I'm gone." He whispered, turning around so his back was against the bulkhead and looked up at the ceiling plating. "Then we've got about a minute before they lock down this starport and start searching every ship one at a time. If I don't get out of here before then, we're all dead." He whispered, turning around so his back was against the bulkhead and looked up at the ceiling plating so he didn't have to look anyone in the eye.
Derex exchanged a worried glance with Daell. He wasn’t so much scared of dealing with Stormtroopers and the lot, but was more concerned about his friend’s mental and physical health. He had caused his fair share of Corin outbursts in the past, but very rarely had he ever seen his friend this fired up.
“Look, everything’s going to be ok Cor,” he said, his mischievous tone turning more serious. “You’re not in that ship anymore and the inquisitor isn’t going to get his hands on you again…or on us for that matter. We’ll just leave right now, right Daell?”
Daell looked at Corin. “Of course, if that’s what you want.” She doubted Corin would want the Siren to leave the Starport at that precise time. It may look suspicious, besides there was the thing with the chip and Cael.
"No." Corin breathed wearily. "You need to stay in case...in case that chip has what I think it does on it." This last was added with a serious look at Daell. The thought of it being suspicious hadn't even occurred to Corin, which really showed just how tired he was feeling. All he could really focus on was the possible significance of the data chip. That and the fact that stormtroopers could storm the Siren and kill him, Daell and Derex at any moment. "I'll go - alone. There's...somebody I know who can hide me for a few days." A small grin crept onto his face. Corin didn't realise it was the first time he had really smiled since boarding Serverus' ship. "He owes me a rather large favour, but I don't think its enough for putting up with three of us 'offworlders'."
Daell nodded. She too thought his going alone would be better. “Just call me if you need me,” she said in earnest controlling her urge to go hug him. The Duke was always an imposing presence, but he looked defeated at the moment. “I’ll take care of the castle meanwhile.”
“How exactly you planning on getting out of here alone by the way?” Derex questioned.
Corin smiled warmly at her. "Thank you. You, too, Derex." He added, looking over at the concerned thief. "When this is all over you'll have to tell me just what you were doing in there in the first place. As to your question..." The exiled Duke bent down and picked up the stormtrooper helmet. "I have a few ideas."
He went to replace the helmet but paused midway and looked back to Daell. "I'll try to contact you when it’s safe. Then we can go and read the chip and see if this was all worth it. If you don't hear from me before two weeks then you should probably assume the worst and look anyway." Corin gulped, closed his eyes for a moment, then replaced the helmet and slapped the access ramp switch. "Wish me luck."
“If you go get yourself killed again, I swear Cor, I’ll come and murder you a third time!” Derex threatened jokingly as his friend departed. When the Duke was out of earshot, the thief took out all his equipment that he had concealed beneath his pants and shirt, and began strapping it on. “It was great seeing you again Daell, but I gotta run. I’m going to follow Mr. Stoic hero and make sure he doesn’t get himself into any trouble before leaving.”
Daell looked at him doubtfully. “I don’t think Corin would appreciate that, Derex.”
A huge smiled beamed from the thief. “I don’t know if you’ve realized, but following Corin’s orders was something I was never good at,” and with that, Derex vanished out of the ship.
Secrets Revealled
20 Epsilon 75
The Shooting Star – Starport, Plateau City
9:46
Daell wasn’t supposed to be there. Corin would probably go nuts if he found out. But Corin wasn’t around. And after everything that had happened, she just needed some time for herself. Away from Corin and their revenge. Away from Cael and his understanding. She just needed a break.
Daell peered into the bottom of her empty glass. She needed another drink, too. After waving to the droid behind the bar, she took a glimpse around her. When she had arrived the club had been almost empty, but it was starting to fill rapidly enough. It seemed that the club was even more popular than it had been a couple of years ago. ‘The Shooting Star.’ She didn’t really know how she’d ended up there, although once she thought about it, it was not that strange. She came to ‘The Shooting Star’ every time she missed Zayen.
Her thoughts interrupted by the droid, Daell turned around again to watch it pour the clear liquid into her glass. Smiling her thanks, she lifted the glass to her lips and sipped. It tasted slightly sweet and had a kick like a rancor. It was just what she needed.
Her glass in her hand, the Twi’lek turned on her stool to look around again. The ambience had clearly changed too, as the night approached; the Shooting Star became the nightclub all those people from the city sought of every night… and most people from the Starport too. Daell turned around again, a bit bothered, when she noticed she was being watched by a group of people; the girls giggling and the men just glaring.
She wasn’t dressed as a whore, but most Twi’leks around the Starport did little else; actually she was kind of underdressed for the popular nightclub. What she didn’t know was that the orange working pants she was wearing tightened in all the right places, and the blue tank top became her strange skin, showing off its colour and well-toned shoulders and arms. Her lekku were well-groomed as always, wrapped in thin bands of orange leather, looking supple and elegant down her spotted back.
Ignoring the growing sound of music behind her, Daell brought the glass to her lips again.
“The Shooting Star,” mumbled Garim to himself as he guided Arica down a steep flight of stairs into the darkened cavern that was the nightclub. He kept a firm hold about her shoulder, shielding her with his body as they wandered amongst the tide of drunken pilots and rowdy traders all anxious for a good time.
It certainly wasn’t the kind of establishment that a young girl of her character and breeding should ever be subjected to and Garim wished that he’d been able to convince Arica to let him come here alone. After all, the only assurances they had that Daell might be here were those of several less than trustworthy barkeeps and the Starport locals. And if Oldrak ever found out about this…
“It doesn’t look like she’s here,” he said gruffly, after surveying the crowds.
Arica peered out from beneath the hood of her cloak, squinting against the sudden glare of pink and blue neon lighting that permeated the gloom. At first her heart pounded fearfully in her chest as she recalled her last journey to the Starport, of Bell Yidic and the days she’d spent tied up in that hole awaiting her fate. But gradually, with the warm reassurance of Garim’s strong arm around her shoulders, Arica’s unease began to fade.
Lowering the cowl of her cloak, her dark eyes searched the collection of life forms. A multitude of sights, sounds, smells, even tastes flooded her childlike sense. Everywhere people were employed in the art of one form of entertainment of another from mere inebriation to the latest games of chance. In the further recesses, dancers stood atop raised podiums and gyrated their bodies in time to a thunderous re-mix recording of Max Rebo Band.
Arica was fascinated by the collection of creatures - some human, some alien - every single one completely extraordinary by anyone’s standards. The human women were in fact, almost naked, covered in a thick coating of lurid grease paint that glowed in the neon lighting, making them look just as strange and other-worldly as their alien counterparts. But no matter how different they all looked from one another, they danced as a pack and with complete awareness of the effect they were having on their predominantly male audience. Some even played up to their futile desires by wiggling their perfectly rounded breasts or rear ends in their faces, encouraging their patrons to slip a few extra credits into their tightly fitting costumes.
Arica blushed profusely, raising her hood and nodding towards the bar where a blue spotted Twi’lek sat, nursing a glass in her hand. The markings on her back were too unique to be anyone other than Daell. Arica clutched Garim’s sleeve tightly.
“There,” she said softly, her voice barely audible in the loud club. “By the bar.”
Daell finished her drink with a gulp; she shuddered with the fiery feeling of liquor downing her throat before tapping the glass on the wood of the bar. Enough. Somehow the ambience was getting too crowded even for her. If she weren’t feeling so blue she may have enjoyed her time there. Dance a little, flirt a little. Nothing too remarkable, just to get going. Forget her worries for a little while. But not tonight.
She was surprised to almost bump with the imposing figure of Captain Moriss as she turned around.
“Miss Lauren,” said Garim courteously as he caught hold of Daell’s arm to steady her. “I didn’t mean to startle you…”
“We were looking for you,” said Arica timidly, pulling back the hood of her cloak again and smiling shyly.
“Captain,” Daell nodded, smiling slightly, “and Arica!” and this time her smile was not doubtful. “What a… surprise. What are you doing here?”
“I don’t think we shouldn’t talk about this here,” interjected Garim swiftly as Arica opened her mouth to speak. He tightened his grip around her waist slightly, holding her closer against himself lest someone should recognise who she was. “It may not be safe. Perhaps…” he turned his gaze back to Daell, “maybe we could return to the Siren’s Song? You appeared to be about to leave after all.”
Daell exchanged a glance with Moriss and she nodded again. She could understand his concern; this wasn’t a place for Arica, although she wouldn’t be caught saying it to the girl. “I was.” She turned her attention to Arica again, she was very surprised of them looking for her, but she could curb her curiosity for a little while anyway. “We can talk there, no problem.”
Garim nodded and, maintaining his protective hold on Arica, guided her out of the club and into the open air of the starport. It was already dark outside and the trio quickened their steps as they followed Daell back to the Siren. It took them almost twenty minutes to navigate the blackened streets – even though the Twi’lek moved with the kind of swiftness and confidence that bespoke her familiarity with Plateau City’s various routes and avenues. They were silent all that time, Arica holding tightly onto Garim’s jacket the entire way, grateful to feel his arm around her, protecting and strong. Eventually they reached the ship’s docking bay and Daell led the way onboard.
“I’m sorry about all this,” apologised Arica once they were all seated in the Conform-lounge furniture of the passenger’s area. “The secrecy and all but… but actually I thought it would be safer if we talked in private.” She sighed awkwardly, “Daell, I know about Velryn, I mean- that he’s Duke Archell.”
Daell sat back as if slapped, and she looked from Arica’s anxious face to Moriss’ serious one. “Oh,” she managed to say after a while. “How-“ she coughed, “how did you know?”
“I overheard a conversation between my uncle and one of the Imperial Officers,” said Arica quietly, quickly continuing as she perceived Daell’s anxiety at that news. “I mean… well they didn’t talk about him, just mentioned his name. This man, Lieutenant Akula, well he said how he’d heard a rumour that Corin Archell was still alive, that he was the one who broke into the Orsiri palace last week? Of course my uncle thought it was all a joke, I mean if Corin Archell was dead…”
Arica fiddled nervously with the heavy grey material of her cloak, her eyes nervously meeting Daell’s as she spoke. “Only… when I asked uncle about it he showed me this picture of Myklos and Velryn was there only… he called him Corin. Then I remembered,” said Arica softly, “how when I fainted that morning you called for Corin and Velryn appeared, and how the two of you seemed so worried when I mentioned it.”
“Yes, that was rather sloppy, wasn’t it?” Daell’s mouth twitched as she furiously thought about the implications of what the girl had said; so Akula didn’t know about Corin. That meant the Inquisitor hadn’t chosen to share his information with the rest of the Imperials. At least not yet. That was good.
“Okay, yes. Velryn is Duke Archell, as you had guessed.” Denying Corin’s true identity was futile but she needed to know how they stood in this. She sighed, and looked into Arica’s eyes. “What are you going to do? I mean, with this information?”
Arica blinked several times, looking up at Captain Moriss who had risen to his feet and taken several steps away from the two of them – presumably, Arica guessed, to give them space to talk privately.
“Do?” she asked after a moment had passed, her nose wrinkled in confusion. “I… I’m here, this is what I’m doing. I-I wanted to let you know… about Akula I mean. I, I don’t know exactly what he may know about Vel-“ Arica sighed and shook her head. “I mean Duke Archell, but I thought you should know, that Duke Archell should know that the Empire were taking an interest in him.”
Arica glanced up at Garim again but he was looking the other way. Returning her focus to Daell, Arica tried to smile though it came out more like an uncomfortable grimace. “It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?”
Daell almost laughed when she released her breath, she’d been so tense. “Oh, Arica!” she exclaimed and impulsively hugged the human girl. “I – I don’t know what to say.” She retreated and bit her lip, her pointy teeth clear against her blue lips. Daell exchanged a glance with the captain, hers completely awed, his strangely tender and she smiled. Arica was a special girl, no wonder the serious captain loved her.
“It may be the right thing to do, hon, but not the most usual reaction, anyway. I'm really thankful, and I'm sure Corin will be too, when he learns of it.”
Arica was stunned as Daell hugged her, she’d started to get the feeling that the Twi’lek was angry with her for coming here.
“So…” she stammered nervously, “you’re not mad then? I… I didn’t really know what to do for the best, I mean naturally I was shocked when I found out, b-but I supposed that Duke Archell had his reasons for keeping such a secret. A-and the two of you were so good and kind to me, saving me from those slavers and giving me a place to stay and looking after me when I was ill. I wanted to be able to repay you somehow, I know this isn’t enough – not nearly enough to do that but… well I’ve seen what the Empire are capable of d-doing to people that get in their way. You aren’t angry with me, are you Daell? For getting Captain Moriss to bring me here, I mean?”
“Oh, dear girl! How could I be?” Daell laughed and took Arica’s hands in hers. “I'm just surprised. I'm not used to such kindness myself, most people with the kind of information you have wouldn’t have acted the same, I'm sure of it!” She raised her hand to stop the girl from replying. “It’s true, and you know it. I'm sure you’ve witnessed your share of deceitfulness and betrayal, probably more than the average people too.”
Daell knew how things were in the upper classes, where battles were sometimes fought over a banquet table, wielding silverware instead of blasters, secrets and innuendoes instead of truth. It was strange – even exceptional – to find a girl of Arica’s integrity. To think she had once considered entering that world! She must have been mad indeed, to think she’d even be allowed!
*Now Corin…* Daell bit her lip again, this time in worry. Arica had said she’d understood the need of Corin’s disguise, but nevertheless… “Corin, I mean, Duke Archell isn’t in the city at the moment. He’s had to keep low for a while… I'm sorry, Arica. But I can’t explain you the need for such deception, only that it was necessary.”
She turned to Garim then, she was sure his loyalties lied with Arica, but she needed him to be completely sure of things too. She didn’t like loose ends. And his first loyalty had been to Myklos. “Only that it has to do with the Orsiri Coup, and the assassination of our noble heirs…”
Garim noticed how Arica recoiled at the word ‘assassination’ and returned to her side, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder for a moment. “That is very serious business indeed,” he said soberly, “and one that is bound to attract much Imperial attention. Are you sure that the two of you have not taken on board too much? The noble houses are all but gone and unless you and the Duke have ideas to bring down the whole Empire, I can’t very well see what good you can do.”
Daell looked at the man in the eyes. Eyes so blue you could dive in them. And she spoke, articulating slowly, so not to leave any doubt of her meaning. “Not the whole Empire, only those responsible for the situation we’re living today.”
Arica frowned, feeling somewhat left out as Daell and Garim talked. “What do you mean?” she asked uncertainly, her eyes moving between the two. “That somebody planned for all that to happen two years ago? For Myklos and the others to be killed and, and the fall of Vorgrell’s nobility?” She wrinkled her nose again uncomfortably. “Why? Why would anyone want that to happen?”
The Twi’lek shifted uncomfortably on her chair, but her eyes kept locked to the Captain’s. She was sure he understood her, even if his charge didn’t. She felt she had said too much already, but despite the young girl’s words it would be only a matter of time before Moriss – or Arica herself – related Corin’s return from the dead with the Princess’ assassination attempt. They already knew too much.
Hell, Corin would probably kill her for this, Daell wondered what he’d do in her situation… threaten them? Kill them…? Probably. The man had hardened after two years on the run, but she didn’t think either of those would work with the Captain, even if she were partial to it.
Daell knew that even if common people spoke of that terrible night as ‘the Orsiri Coup’ they didn’t really see it as such. Mostly they referred to the House’s rise to prominence after the majority of the noble houses fell… nobody suspected their part in it, the Orsiris had ‘lost’ their Prince too, after all… But then, Garim Moriss wasn’t ‘common people’ he’d been inside, he’d known the young members of Vorgrell’s noble houses as well as she had.
She was still watching him when she answered Arica. “To get to power.”
Garim nodded in understanding as he finally realised what Daell was trying to tell him. The only person who had gained any power from the collapse of the noble houses had been the House of Orsiri – namely Princess Zara. All the others, including the Bertrayn’s had taken considerable losses, and even now struggled to keep hold of both their titles and wealth.
After that everything else fell into place. Only those responsible for the situation we’re living today. If that meant Princess Orsiri… then could it be that the Duke and Daell were involved in the failed assassination attempt?
Again Arica felt as though she were sitting on the outside of this conversation, but this time she didn’t speak but instead held tightly onto the crystal of her necklace, rubbing her fingers against the smooth surface. Looking up at Garim she could tell that he understood something in Daell’s words that she did not, some unspoken meaning.
She sighed uncomfortably, “is the Duke okay?”
Arica’s words broke the tension in the room and Daell sighed. The unspoken words between the Captain and her somehow drummed in her ears, but she felt more confident. She turned to the girl then, thinking about her question. She remembered how she’d last seen Corin, battered and tired, but still strong and determined. “He’s fine,” she answered, smiling. “He’s been better, but he’s fine.”
Garim cleared his throat and Arica knew that he was wanting to leave. He rolled up his sleeve and looked at the time briefly before turning back to Daell. “It’s getting late, we need to go before somebody at the palace notices we’re gone.”
Arica nodded but instead of rising to her feet she reached into the folds of her cloak and removed a small, flat parcel bound up in thin sheets of paper. “I wanted to return this,” she explained as she handed the package to Daell, “I had it cleaned… I know you said that it belonged to a different Daell, but I thought… well I guess I thought that every needs memories, even if they’re sad ones. Thank-you very much for letting me wear it.”
Daell’s fingers curled over the parcel, she could almost feel the smoothness of cloth beneath the paper. A tear threatened to pour and she willed it back. “Thank you, Arica. I guess you’re right.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
20 Epsilon 75
The Shooting Star – Starport, Plateau City
11:56
It was several hours later when Garim returned to the Siren. After issuing a warning to the Captain’s Guild and safely restoring Arica to the palace, he’d taken it upon himself to retrace his steps in the hope of a more private audience with Daell. There were things that they needed to discuss; things that he didn’t want Arica to hear lest she got the wrong idea.
Standing outside the starship, he felt a cool chill travel the length of his spine. Ari would probably be appalled if she knew he was doing this, she was so kind-hearted and eager to please, she would never consider the dangers of what Daell and Duke Archell were doing and how she might also be dragged into that world. And that was the absolute last thing that Garim could allow. He’d already lost one of his charges and the wound of that failure to perform his duty was still raw. He would not allow Arica to suffer a similar fate as Myklos.
Daell frowned when the intercom beeped, she had just stepped out of the vibroshower. She walked to the intercom near her door and checked the readings. Captain Moriss was asking for authorisation to enter the ship. Daell sighed, she had suspected this was going to happen. She typed the authorisation code and walked to her closet, putting on the first clothes she found before heading to the door. When she got to the entrance ramp, the Bertrayn’s bodyguard had already stepped into the Siren and was waiting for her.
“I am sorry to disturb you again so late,” said Garim with an air of disquiet as Daell appeared, looking more than a little irritable. “But you’ll understand if I explain that I was rather, concerned at one or two things that were discussed earlier. I don’t wish to interfere or appear rude, but I have to be blunt and say that regardless of whatever opinion Miss Odari may express, I do not want you to have any further contact.”
Daell just nodded and signalled the Captain to enter the ship, following him in tow. Once in the common area, she sat down and looked at him, who was still standing. She curled into her sofa and studied the man for a couple of minutes. She was frowning. She had expected him to come back and talk to her, but his implication that she would willingly put Arica into any kind of danger had put her on edge.
“And what do you think I’d contact your charge for, captain?” she asked at last. “Maybe she could help me manhandle Zara while I kill her for the traitor she is? No, wait, I could ask her to entertain Lady Arella while I poison the princess’ bedtime milk…”
Daell’s gaze didn’t leave Garim’s and her lekku trembled in tension. “It’s not my intention to endanger Arica in any way, Captain Moriss. You may think whatever you like of me and Corin, but we don’t get innocent girls into trouble as a habit.”
Garim shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other before sitting down. “I… I am sorry,” he said quietly, “I didn’t mean for my words to come out in such a manner. Of course I am very grateful to you and the Duke, for everything that you’ve done for Miss Odari. I know that she holds both of you in very high esteem – which is my immediate concern.”
Clearing his throat uneasily and sitting more upright in his chair, Garim continued. “You implied that Zara Orsiri was the one who betrayed the noble houses, how can you be so sure?”
The Twi’lek nodded her head, accepting Garim’s apology and smiled slightly. Then she thought of Zara and her face hardened. She thought for a second whether to speak or not, and then decided to do it. She had said enough already, anyway.
“She confessed it to Corin, when she thought she would kill him too. Even her implication in Zayen’s death…” she almost choked over his name.
Garim felt his own face harden at Daell’s words. He’d never held the Princess Orsiri in particularly high esteem – she was the very embodiment of everything that was wrong with her class - proud, arrogant and prejudiced. But to turn on her own kind? To deliver her fellow nobles, even her own brother and parents, into the hands of the Empire? It was monstrous.
“I can’t believe it,” he said quietly after a moment. “I know the Princess is rather… callous at times… but to turn on her own family? Even if there was such power to be gained…”
Daell closed her eyes. It was unbelievable indeed, that was what had made Zara get away with it for so long. Who could have thought that the beautiful socialite would turn on her kind and class? She shrugged.
“Believe as you wish. It’s true.” She simply said.
Garim rose to his feet and paced agitated, keeping his hands tightly clenched behind his back. Every single day since that night two years ago he’d blamed himself for the death of Myklos Bertrayn. For not being on duty the night that imperial stormtroopers invaded the palace, for not being quick enough or good enough to stop the young master from being killed.
His blood was practically boiling with anger at the thought of the Princess, that she’d been the one to orchestrate the whole ordeal. How many lives had she ruined? How many people had suffered?
“So… so why not just report this to the Sheriff? If she really is a traitor then she must stand trial.”
“The Sheriff already knows of it.” Daell said slowly.
Garim laughed mirthlessly, “yes, though I was thinking preferably of one that isn’t considered legally dead.”
“Do you think for a second that a appeal like that would have any response? There is a new sheriff in town, yes. But one placed by the ones who helped Zara achieve her power. No thank you. I’ll stick to the old one.”
“And you think this is the answer?” Garim shot back exasperatedly. “From what I heard the Duke was lucky to escape the palace with his life on his last assassination attempt. Your devotion to your friends is admirable but at this rate you’ll be the ones joining them, and probably sooner than you think. Princess Zara will be looking for Duke Archell now that she knows he’s alive. How long before she sends her own assassins after you?”
Daell’s expression closed. “I don’t mind. I died the night Zayen died. I live for the day he’ll be avenged.” She turned to look at Garim. “If I die in the process… so be it.”
“Save me from the curse of insufferably impassioned women!” declared Gairm with annoyance, “do what you will, Daell. I’m not sure Zayen was the kind of young man that would have wanted you to forsake yourself in this mad pursuit of revenge, but like I said, I didn’t come here to interfere. Just hold to your word and don’t bring Arica into this insane world of yours. You don’t know her like I do, she’d help you regardless of the danger – heck, she’d probably find this whole story of yours romantic.”
Daell chuckled and bit her lip at Garim’s exclamation. *Insufferable impassioned women indeed.* “I'm sure Zayen wouldn’t have wanted me to die over this… that’s why I’ve been careful. It’s been two years already and Zara doesn’t suspect my part in any of this, or what I’ve been doing in the past...” she sighed. “Don’t worry Captain, I understand and share your concern. Arica is a special girl, she could very well be lured into this. I’ll do my best to prevent that.”
Garim’s posture loosened with visible relief. It wasn’t that he expected Daell and Corin to drag his charge into their schemes but he wanted them aware of the possibility. “Then I thank you,” he said politely, bowing slightly, “and I apologise again for being so abrupt earlier.”
“Don’t worry. As I said, I understand your concern. I'm sorry I lashed at you that way.” She looked at him again as he rose from his chair.
“However, Captain…” she doubted a second, thinking again how Corin would probably strangle her if he learned of her talking so freely to Moriss. “This whole thing… I… I think you understand our own need for secrecy, right?”
“Considering how hell-bent on your own destruction I probably understand that need greater than you do,” said Garim sombrely. “But if you keep your end of our deal I promise to do the same. No one shall hear a word from me.”
“Then it’s a deal, Captain,” Daell said, getting to her feet as well. “I just hope Arica doesn’t surprise us both, she has a mind of her own, that one.”
Despite his attempts not to, Garim couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Tell me about it.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
23 Epsilon 75
Bertrayn Shipment
Lianna cursed her luck.
Boarding the ship had been easy enough, even if done as a stowaway. Only then it very quickly became apparent, once they were out at sea, that the lax security had tightened, as though they might have been alerted to someone on board or potentially attacking. It had taken all of her skills to avoid detection and continue to monitor the shipment for anyone attempting to sabotage it. Assuming that someone even tried to do that, and didn't just blow them out of the water.
Which had, unfortunately, lead to her current situation.
The Alcona continued to run through the corridor, this time looking not to hide but to escape. A door started to open, the man gawking in surprise at the sight of a woman in armour running from two guards, before shutting the door quickly again. Sparks flew overhead as a blaster bolt reflected from the top of the ceiling.
Rounding a corner, Lianna stopped in front of the door and pulled the handle.
It didn't open.
She turned to run again, only to stop cold in her tracks. Both of the security guards were there, with blasters pointed at her. Slowly, she raised her arms in defeat. With luck, they would try to advance again; the narrow space might provide an advantage in attempting to escape. But it was not to be. “Walk forward, slowly,” the lead commanded, taking a step back; they would no doubt not take any chances.
“What do we do with her now?” the other one asked.
“You saw the way she was acting around that door,” replied the lead. “Captain was pretty clear about his orders.”
“Right.” They had Lianna remove her weapons and hand them over, missing only the knife hidden in her boot, before leading her through the ship. Another two guards joined in the escort to take her to what she discovered was passing as a make-shift brig: a small storage room which had been emptied.
It was with an air of finality that the door clicked shut, two of the men waiting outside, as she heard another say something about getting the Captain to find out exactly what he wanted to do with her.
Estabar Gurver, 22nd Captain of the Bertrayn Mining Fleet was a brusque man of almost fifty-five years. He stood on deck of the V23 Oceanus looking across the dark waters of Vorgrell with a sea-weathered squinting eye, his sturdy hands clasped behind his
back and the collar of his greatcoat pulled up around his broad neck to keep out the cold. A salty breeze flapped through his thick whitish hair like a dying seagull falling through the sky.
“Captain,” said warrant officer Polkal as he approached the ageing man, holding on to his cap as the wind jerked beneath it. “The boatswain asked me to inform you of a situation below deck, a stowaway woman. She attempted to flee when approached and considering the alert from the Admiralty this morning, we thought…”
Estabar nodded and, after handing his post over to his first mate, followed Polkal down into the bowels of the Oceanus. The lower decks of the ship, where the brig was located smelled strongly of glasios and squib and Captain Estabar discreetly held his breath until he became used to the stench. He frowned as he saw Lianna through the window to the storeroom, opening the door.
“I hope you know that stowing away on a merchant vessel is a serious crime, by Vorgrellian law I would be well within my rights to have you tossed overboard and let you take your chances with the Opee and the Styanax. So what do you have to say for yourself?"
Lianna considered saying nothing. Silence would be a fitting reply to such a demand, though her position demanded some amount of secrecy. Unfortunately, he was telling the truth about tossing her overboard, and there was no glory in such a death. “I'm on the Hunt,” she replied simply, with the revrent air about 'Hunt' that only a Bounty Hunter could manage to give to it.
“Suffice it to say that the shipment of ore you are carrying is in danger of being attacked; I was sent her with orders to ensure it's safe passage. It was decided, after much consideration, that it would be better for you to not be aware of my presence. If nothing happened, ideally, you would have no idea that anyone was on board; if something did happen, I would be in position to take the evidence back to the Council to convince them them of a problem.”
She watched the captain carefully, not allowing her stiff posture to break. All she could do was hope that, if anything, he would just decide to have her taken back for questioning if he didn't buy it.
Captain Estabar wrinkled his long bony nose in distaste. “Preposterous! How would you even know about such an attack unless you were part of the plot to sabotage this envoy? I want your name, your rank and the identity of those who sent you here or it’s overboard with you.”
Her thoughts turned momentarily to the one weapon that they missed, secure in her boot. In one motion, she could take their take Captain prisoner. Instead, she settled on a more sure gambit. “I am Lianna of the Alcona Clan Merrol, and I will answer only to Captain Garim Morris of House Bertrayn.”
Sucking the air through his teeth, Estabar gestured to the guards to stand down momentarily. He knew the Chief of Security for the Bertrayn’s and he was indeed Captain Garim Moriss - a likeable fellow with a strong sense of duty and honour. But if he had really sent this Alcona woman to accompany their vessel then why all the secrecy?
“I think, Miss, that you should join us on deck, then perhaps we can sort all this out in more amenable surroundings.”
*And more ready to toss me overboard.* With a simple nod, she accepted the Captain's offer to be lead above-deck. All the while, her mind tried to work on possible avenues of escape: a lifeboat was certainly a possibility, but she was no navigator. Being eaten by an Opee would be an improvement to starving while afloat; at least it would be over quicker.
There was the sound of a loud noise from above decks while they were still in the corridor's. A voice came over the ship's intercom: “Captain Estabar! We're under attack.”
Estabar swore loudly, with a final look towards Lianna. He was sure that the woman had to be in on it. “Get her back down there. Assuming we get through this, we'll see what Captain Moriss has to say.”
Lianna took in the news with a bit of shock, before making her decision. This was the moment that she had been waiting for. “I'm sorry, Captain,” she said, “but we all have our duty to perform.” With that said, she spun quickly, to strike one of the guards who was accompanying them. In a brief motion, she tossed the other against the Captain, and hurried towards the deck.
Scrambling to his feet, Estabar growled angrily, unholstering his blaster and taking a few shots at the retreating woman, the blaster fire missing her and singing the inner hull of the corridor. “Leave her,” he shouted as his guards set about to follow her, “we need to get up on deck and find out what in Vorgrell is going on here.”
His own heavy boots echoing against the metal grid floor, Estabar muttered under his breath while his blaster recharged with a steady hum. “No one is gonna take my ship, not over my dead body…”
As she reached the deck of the ship, Lianna stopped for a moment in pure surprise. She didn't know what she expected to see, but she knew what she hadn't expected: Imperial Stormtroopers.
About twenty of them were present on the deck of the ship, firing their blaster rifles; several small skiffs pulled up to the side of the ship, as though they had stopped for an inspection. In the middle of it all, a human in the black service uniform of a Stormtrooper directed his men as they moved to secure parts of the ship.
Still, the fact that it was an Imperial attack should itself be disturbing. What interest did the Empire have in destroying Ore shipments when they were one of the chief purchasers of it? Lianna dropped down, pulling the knife from her boot, as she tried to stay closer to the wall of the vessel with one thought in her mind: how to best escape.
As soon as Estabar reached the deck he knew this was a fight his men could never win. Even after the warning from the Admiralty and their extra security precautions they were still woefully outgunned when it came to Imperial Stormtroopers. The topmast had already been hit by a blast of cannon fire, hanging at an awkward angle across the bow and from the downward tilt towards the stern he ascertained that the hull had also been breached. The ship was sinking.
“You! Midshipman Klienter,” the Captain bellowed, as screams of pain and the smell of singed flesh assaulted his senses, “get down to the passenger bay and start the evacuation, I don’t want their blood on my hands.”
As the young midshipman hurried away below deck, Estabar initiated the rapid fire unit of his blaster and launched into full battle mode, his white hair blowing wildly in the wind. They might well die today, but not without a fight.
Lieutenant Tarmak glanced across the deck, hearing the report come over his comlink that his men had secured the lifeboats. Akula's orders had been quite explicit: nobody was to be allowed to escape. Word could not get out that the Empire had done this, and one did not want to displease Akula. Not with his reputation.
He turned to one one of the troops next to him, noting the Captain's blaster fire. “Get a couple men up there to take him out. I don't want him giving the impression that the Empire can be resisted.”
Lianna ran along the vessel, as one of the Stormtroopers began to move closer to her position. Just a few moments more was all she needed until... there! Jumping up behind the soldier, Lianna pulled his head back, quickly slashing through the small rubber opening between helmet and chest plate. The Stormtrooper fired wildly, before a second strike took him down. Claiming his rifle, she went about moving across the ship.
A series of blaster bolts struck near her. Lianna turned, firing as she began to jog backwards. Three more troopers were bearing down on her, one of them taking a blaster shot full-on to the midsection. It didn't stop the other two; a burning sensation in her shoulder told her that her armour had deflected part of a blast, but not enough.
Crying out, she held the rifle one-handed as she continued to flee again towards the aft of the vessel, the tilt of the ship getting progressively worse. Turning, she fired two more times, before continuing on her path.
Her heart racing, Lianna continued to run silently hoping for the Force to show some mercy. More screaming came from ahead; a group of crewman and Stormtroopers traded blaster fire with each other. The sign of salvation was ahead: there, tethered to the aft, was a small water-born skiff, obviously intended to hold a few troopers.
Turning one final time, she fired again, watching a second Stormtrooper fall. One of the crew turned to face her, and considered shooting, before he saw that she was shooting back at the Imperial forces. Momentarily, the decision was made: they weren't sure where the woman had come from, but they would accept her help.
Dropping down, Lianna joined the battle, firing back at the Stormtroopers; one of the crewmen nearby screamed, falling backwards into death, but she continued to press the counter. A woman and two men left, she turned to them after the last of the local ones had fallen. “You have... to get... out of... here....” she managed to get out, breathing heavily.
Her head swam from the pain in her arm, and she couldn't quite make out the reply that they had given her. All she was that it was something about 'duty' and 'saving passangers.' Lianna nodded to them out of respect, trying to decide what to do. Her own sense of duty called her to flee, to get word back to someone of what had happened. But what about the passengers?
*You have to go. It does nobody any good if you die and nobody knows what happened here... if the Empire continues this, how many more defenceless innocents will they slaughter before all is said and done?* That consideration was enough to convince her to move towards the back, leaping on the vehicle tied near the after; her head swam again as her shoulder hit something, sending fresh pain through her body.
After she recovered, she looked back, trying to figure out the controls. It looked as if the vehicle had been deliberately designed with several port destinations programmed in, probably to aide the Stormtroopers in any of their duties. Maybe, just maybe, she could figure out how to get back. With a final glance up, the three new soldiers who were now shooting made up mind.
Lianna angled away from the vessel, hoping that she would be able to make it back to land and saftey.
With special thanks to Louisa Optima Maxima, for writting Captain Estebar
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
25 Epsilon 75
05:48
Introducing Chris Rock as Second Lieutenant Zak “Trick” Ulrin
“So, you gonna tell me what’s up or what?” asked Zak as he twirled his bowstaff between both hands in a rotating motion. Carefully he sized up his opponent, superior officer and best friend – the otherwise known Captain Garim Moriss, as they circled one another around the perimeter of the training zone.
Though the two men were virtual opposites - one a serious and conscientious liberal and Zak, a loudmouthed, brash maverick - they had formed an easy friendship since joining the royal guard at Bertayn Palace four years ago. Largely thanks to many late nights playing Pazaak and drinking Dodbri Whiskey.
In reply to Zak’s question, Garim dodged forwards, bringing his bowstaff down in an offensive strike. At the same time, Zak swiftly turned to one side and brought his weapon up to meet Garim’s in a tight blocking manoeuvre. The sound of wood cracking on wood echoed noisily in the empty training grounds.
“Who said anything was up?” said Garim through gritted teeth as he rotated to the left and then swung back again with another sharp blow, missing the side of Zak’s head by mere inches.
Of course there was something wrong, it was this whole situation with young Miss Odari that had Garim completely on edge all the time. His growing feelings of attachment for the girl were in conflict with his overriding sense of duty and honour. Yet how could he continue to pretend that he had some sort of control over his feelings? He might be able to conceal them from the outside world, but to conceal them from himself was a different matter, and it was quietly driving him mad.
To add insult to injury, Garim had received news that morning of the attack on the Oceanus transport ship by suspected sea pirates, one that had crippled the ship, destroyed the cargo and left all her crew dead or missing.
“Woah!” Zak cried out as he dodged to one side, only just managing to avoid the hard end of a two-slice archer manoeuvre. “Well, gimmie a moment to examine the evidence!” he puffed, almost out of breath and having to block yet another blow from Garim that aimed to split his skull in half.
“You got time off – which you don’t take, and despite the fact that you’re the hero of the hour after returning Miss Odari into the loving arms of her family, you still have a face like a Gundar’s backside.”
Moving with remarkable swiftness, Garim made a half turn and struck out at Zak with his bowstaff. The young Lieutenant barely managed to dodge back in time to avoid the impact, raising his own staff to form a block. The weapons cracked together again loudly, sending another resounding echo around the deserted training yard.
“Hey! Argh!” yelled Zak in pain as Garim cracked him neatly across the knuckles, forcing him to drop one end of his staff. He cupped his hand, dropping his guard entirely and received a clean swipe around the back of the knees, sending him sprawling across the ground for his trouble.
“A face like a what?” said Garim, pressing the end of his quarterstaff against Zak’s chin. He smiled and turned away but was cognisant enough to hear his friend as he got to his feet and retrieved his weapon. When Zak made his move Garim was more than ready, swiping his staff in a clean arc that cracked his friend across the backside before jabbing him in the stomach.
Zak gasped for breath, clutching his middle. Forcing himself to stand straight he threw his bowstaff on the ground in annoyance before striding up to Garim and giving him a hard shove.
“Droyk! What’s your damage man!” he cried out, yanking Garim’s quarterstaff from his hands. “And don’t dare say nuthin’, you’ve been trippin’ for days now! Everyone’s noticed it, the cadets have even started calling you Grim Moriss.”
Garim eyed his friend irritably. “If you can’t take the heat, Lieutenant I can find myself a new sparing partner.”
“Sure,” snapped Zak, lunging out with a quick right hook – so quick in fact that it knocked Garim clean off his feet – sending him sprawling across the ground. Zak stood poised above his friend, a dark scowl spread across his features. “You gonna find yourself a new best friend too?” he yelled, “’’cos the way you’ve been acting bro… lashing out, getting’ all crazy... there ain’t gonna be too many people fighting your corner.”
“Damn it Zak!” yelled Garim, his stern voice cracking slightly with humour as he nursed his aching jaw. “Damn it…” he shook his head and snorted, “you almost broke my fracking jaw!”
Zak’s serious expression softened and eventually faded completely, replaced instead with a wide, toothy grin. He reached out a hand and hoisted Garim up from the ground, slapping him on the back amiably.
“And you nearly harpooned my liver, I think this makes us even. Besides, you were acting like a total krillhead.” Zak chuckled, revealing more of his brilliant white teeth. “Come on man, we’ve been buds since I was a snot-nosed little skugg starting out here. You’re Mr. Smooth, Mr. I-Can-Face-An-Imperial-Invasion-And-Not-Even-Break-Out-Into-A-Sweat! I never known you to be so outta whack before. Sumthing’s up. Question is, are you gonna tell me what?”
Garim sighed as he swiped up his quarterstaff, tapping the solid end against the ground and passing it between both his hands. “Ahhh, Zak, it’s not really that simple… Look I know I’ve been acting all… not myself. But I can’t explain what’s been happening, it’s… not safe.”
“Not safe?” Zak picked up his own staff and leaned against it. His serious frown returned and he lowered his voice to a soft whisper. “What on Vorgrell have you gotten yourself into, Gar?”
Garim inhaled deeply, “It’s a long story… if I tell you and it gets back to the Baron… I mean it Trick, if you tell anyone I may as well sign my own death warrant here and now.”
“Munk man,” said Zak quietly, “this must be serious, what you been doing? Banging the Baron’s niece or something?”
“Attractive turn of phrase, Zak I can see why you’re beating the ladies off with a stick. No I haven’t been ‘banging’ her, although this does…” Garim lowered his voice again, “this does involve Miss Odari-Mosora. Before she went missing the other week she had an… altercation, with Lady Irina. She was very upset, crying and her head was bleeding, I didn’t know what to do but I could see that she needed to talk to someone so I took her back to my room-”
“Your room?” said Zak incredulously, “are you insane?! She’s a lady, not only that but Baron Oldrak’s niece. You know Baron Oldrak, right? Your boss and mine? Incredibly powerful guy, likes to have people who piss him off killed-“
“-I am aware of that,” interrupted Garim with a sigh. “I know it probably wasn’t the best idea but I didn’t know what else to do, I just wanted her to calm down and make sure she was alright. Maybe if I hadn’t nothing else would have happened…”
Zak’s eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, “what exactly did happen?”
“Nothing like that,” said Garim defensively, “I… well, I kissed her. I was only trying to comfort her, to, to stop her from crying.”
Zak shook his head in dismay, trying his hardest to avoid laughing. “Oh man, making out with The Galactic Virgin that’s a classic Gar, even for you. Don’t tell me you broke her poor father’s heart and popped her cherry before he got the chance to marry her off into some high flying noble family?”
With his trademark swiftness, Garim kicked Zak’s staff out from his hands, sending him stumbling forwards onto the ground. “Don’t,” he said firmly, jabbing his finger stiffly in Zak’s direction. “Don’t ever talk about her like that again, okay?”
Zak couldn’t help but grin, even from his ungainly posture sprawled out on the grass. “Just testing,” he chuckled, “wanted to see if you’d taken to protecting her virtue as well as her life. And I see that I was right, this is more than just a kiss, ain’t it?”
Garim shook his head dismally, “Damn it Zak, …I… I think… I think that I’m falling in love with her.” He picked up his quarterstaff and sighed, pacing the area of the training circle. When he stopped and turned back to Zak, he was still laying sprawled out on the grass. “The worst thing is… I think she, Arica, I think she may feel the same way.”
Zak frowned, scratching his head. “And that’s the worst thing? Sounds pretty sweet to me…”
“You don’t understand,” insisted Garim in frustration, “it just makes everything so much more difficult. I mean… like you said, she’s a lady, the Baron’s niece. I’m… I’m no one, it can only end in disaster.”
“Well damn straight I don’t understand,” scoffed Zak laconically, pushing himself up from the ground. “You tell me that not only did you get it on with the kind of girl guys like us only dream of, not only that but she has a thing for you too. And you think this is a bad thing?”
Zak threw his hands up in the air in dismay. “You know you’re an idiot right? Skrag man, who cares how this is gonna end? You have to live in the here and now, and here and now that hot little Bakuran honey pot is offering herself to you – the Galactic Virgin, is offering herself to you! But you’re too dumb to know what that means, oh no, you’re too dumb to realise a good thing when it’s staring you in the face!”
“Have you even heard a word of what I said?” Garim returned hotly, resuming his frantic pacing of the training circle. “Not only is she vastly out of my league but even if I did venture into that sphere of existence if we were ever caught together it’d be more than my job I’d be losing. Baron Oldrak would have my head!”
Zak grinned smugly, “then don’t get caught.”
“Of course I care for the girl,” continued Garim, oblivious to Zak’s retort. “I’m her bodyguard, it’s my duty to put her life before my own. But you’ve seen how this whole situation has effected my behaviour! I can’t think straight, I… I…” he halted his pacing again, returning his attention to Zak.
“I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore. Back on Nar Shaada I would have gladly killed that bishwag Yidic with my bare hands!”
“And you only think you’re falling in love with her?” Zak shook his head in disbelief. “Gar, man, give yourself a break. You’re a decent guy; you have the work ethic of a Bandie and the moral standards of a fracking priest! So you’re not some fancy, blue-blood. Who gives a bark-rats ass? You like this girl, don’t tell me that you’re gonna let some fripping random factor like birth dictate what you do! So she’s a noble, so you’re not, it doesn’t seem to bother her so why does it bother you?”
Zak patted Garim on the back, “and it seems to me, the best way to get control of yourself again is to get her out of your system. At the end of the day it comes down to one simple thing. Life is short. Take a chance, Gar, what's the point in living otherwise?”
Garim shook his head dolefully, taking proper hold of his quarterstaff as the two men headed in the direction of the barracks, the golden hue of a Vorgrellian sunrise glinting off the copper angles of Bertrayn Palace.
“So, what would you have done?”
“You mean, would I risk possible exile, imprisonment, maybe even a horrible and painful death just to get it on with a pretty girl?” Zak grinned, “do I really need to answer?”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
17 Epsilon 75
Evening
Aboard the Anaphedros
Holstering his blaster, Severus used his foot to roll the armourless body of what was once a Stormtrooper onto its back. The blaster bolt that had ended the trooper’s life had taken his right in the throat, an area unprotected by helmet or armour. The Major glanced up at the small scorched spot on the bulkhead, undoubtedly the result of the now-deceased trooper’s first and final shot at the intruder. And, thought Severus in a moment of black humour, no doubt the blast was three feet wide and two feet high.
Severus looked up as Zastra stepped back into the hallway, holstering her own sidearm with a worried look on her face.
“You know,” said Severus. “I think each subsequent generation of clone troops suffers from a degradation of whatever genes are responsible for targeting skills.”
“He’s gone, sir,” said the Zabrak. She glanced pointed at the five Imperial Stormtroopers who had assembled behind the Major. They represented the highest-ranking members of the Inquisitor’s personal guard and were thus the ones responsible for ensuring the security of the Anaphedros. “As is all of his equipment. None of your property appears to have been taken or tampered with.”
“This shot,” said Severus, pointing to the dead man’s neck. “It would not have damaged his armour.”
“A disguise?”
“Yes. However, we did not exactly leave the Duke in the best of health. I don’t believe he could have managed an escape on his own. And that means, Captain,” said the Major, turning to face the captain of his guard. “That not only did Corin Archell sneak aboard my ship during your watch, but someone else managed to get aboard and the two of them managed to escape.”
The trooper began to reply, but his words died in his throat as Severus rapidly drew his blaster and shot the soldier point-blank between the eyes.
“I expect tightened security measures to be implemented immediately. And dispose of them,” he added, waving a hand at the two deceased troopers. After some hasty “yessirs,” the remaining stormtroopers dragged away the bodies and set off to improve security measures.
Zastra followed as Severus headed back to his office, where he once again disconnected his helmet and removed it.
“Is it still causing problems, sir?,” she asked as she took the helmet from him.
“No, it’s fine,” said the Major wearily as he dropped himself into a chair. “I just need the fresh air. Don’t worry, I’ll be going into the bacta soon.”
Zastra nodded and set the helmet on the Major’s desk. Though she’d never said so, she much preferred talking to him when she could see his face rather than looking at a faceplate. Often, his expression would communicate just as much, if not more than his words.
“To find Archell,” she said. “We should send out…”
“Archell is no longer top priority.”
“You don’t think he’s dangerous?”
The Major chuckled.
“Of course he’s dangerous,” he said, absently rubbing the long scar that stretched from eyebrow the jawline on the right side of his face. A souvenir of the day he lost his family. “He’s a noble who thinks he’s pursuing a righteous path. All nobles have a sense of entitlement and generally out of control egos. In our good Duke, we have that combined with self-righteousness and a near-insane desire to spill the blood of the lovely young Princess. He’s certainly dangerous, just not to us – at least, not yet.”
Naboo
The suburbs of Theed
Fifteen years ago
“No, we said two stories, that was the deal,” said Zod. “Now its time to go to sleep.”
He stood from where he had sat on the edge of his daughter’s bed and pulled the thick blanket up to her chin. She made as if to protest, but instead she yawned widely. Zod leaned over and kissed her softly on the forehead.
“See, your body knows it needs some sleep.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Vislyn?”
“One more story? About Bugo the Bantha?”
“No more stories,” he said, chuckling. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow we can tell all kinds of stories, but tomorrow can’t start until you get a good night’s sleep. Okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“G’night, baby,” he said, kissing her good night once more, then leaving the bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. Vislyn was asleep before the door clicked shut.
“Is she asleep?,” asked Leetra, looking up at her husband as she dropped the last toy into an overflowing toy box.
“She’s asleep.”
The pair plopped themselves down on the couch together, Zod wrapping his arms around his wife. Their house was small, by Theed standards, but it was more than enough room for the three of them and there was even enough space to block off one end of the main room to be Leetra’s workshop. The most important thing, thought Zod, was that it had a nice-size yard for Vislyn to play in. It wasn’t quite the farm he had wanted for his family, but realistically, this was even better than they could have hoped for on his income.
“She tried to negotiate for more stories,” he said. “But she’s asleep.”
Leetra giggled.
“Her father’s daughter – always trying to talk you into something.”
“Hey!,” he said with mock indignation. “I am not like that!”
“You talked me into marrying you and having your child,” said Leetra with a laugh. “You’re such a smooth operator.”
“Yeah, that’s me all right – so smooth I threw up on our first date.”
“Mm-hm. That was charming.”
“Worked out all right.”
“So far, so good. God, that seems like yesterday, but it’s been almost six years. Can you believe it’s been that long?”
“Vislyn will be five in another few months. She’s growing up fast. I just have to wonder what kind of world she’ll grow up into.”
Leetra sat up and looked sadly into her husband’s eyes.
“Zod…”
“Sorry. It’s just…”
“I know. I know. But the blockade will end. It can’t go on forever. I mean, the Senate isn’t going to just sit there and let them get away with it. It’s an illegal blockade.”
“They’ve been getting away with it so far,” he said. “But you’re right. It’s all just political masturbation and sooner or later the bozos in the Senate will stop sitting on their hands and actually do their job. In the meantime, we’re stuck here with our imports gathering dust or rotting in their crates.”
“Shhh,” said Leetra, placing a finger on Zod’s lips. “Don’t get like that – you know I hate to see you get so stressed. It’s out of our control right now. We just have to have faith that Senator Palpatine will do his best for us. And, um, in the meantime… I got a message from Beru…”
“Uh-oh.”
“She wants to come visit for a week once the blockade is lifted.”
Zod rubbed at his eyes as if a headache suddenly hit him.
“Wonderful.”
“Zod! I know you guys don’t get along, but you’re my husband, you’re supposed to at least pretend to like my sister,” she said, swatting his shoulder and unable to suppress a laugh.
“Okay, I’ll pretend,” he said with a grin as he mussed up Leetra’s hair.
Anaphedros
Present day
Severus leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. Beru’s visit had never come. The Trade Federation blockade escalated in the days following, leading to the now-infamous Battle of Naboo. The cowardly Jedi had backed off and hid in their temple. The bastards had done nothing to stop the Trade Federation, only to protect one little royal bitch. And then Leetra and Vislyn had died in a ball of flame and a hail of blaster fire that should have killed Severus as well.
“But it didn’t,” he muttered. “Unfortunately.”
It was dawn now, and the Major hadn’t slept all night, the memories brought to the fore by the news about Beru far too raw. Beru Camus was looking for him. He hadn’t so much as heard his sister-in-law’s name in over a decade, but now, for some reason, she was looking for him. And, coincidence or not, so was a supposedly deceased Jedi.
The Major took one long last look at the holo of his wife and daughter. It was taken in their back yard, a sort of impromptu picnic to celebrate Vislyn’s fourth birthday, and the sunlight made the blonde hair of both mother and daughter shine like gold. Whenever the image of their death came into his mind – an image he hadn’t actually witnessed, but had dreamt of so often it seemed real – he tried to force this image of their smiling faces into its place. It never worked.
Placing the holo gently into his desk, Severus headed down to his personal armoury. He would need to do some maintenance on his vibrosword – and perhaps an upgrade or two – to make sure it was up to the task of duelling with a lightsabre.
Because once more, Zod Severus had a Jedi to kill.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
24 Epsilon 75
Cael Draxel's
02:23
Cael groaned at the sound of the chime that altered him to someone being at the door.
At first he thought it was his alarm, but a quick glance at the clock revealed that it was far too early to be time to get up. “Who on Vorgrell could be calling at this hour?” he asked himself rhetorically. After another moment of tired laying, he half-hurled himself out of the bed to wander over to the monitor that displayed visitors. “What the...?”
Krell's bounty hunter? What was she doing here? A few moment's later, curiosity turned to more concern. From the way that she was standing, it was obvious that she was injured. How she had located his place left his mind, as he went to hurry her inside the building. Lianna's health looked to be in a more declining state as he got her to lay down on the bed.
Rushing through the place, he quickly returned with a first aide kit, opening it up. Lianna tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. “Hold on, I'm trying to help,” he said. “Don't move.”
“The Empire,” she got out distantly, obviously in pain. Cael looked at her in surprise and curiosity, wondering just what she was saying. Did the Empire do this to her? If so, what had she done? There were added scortch marks on her armour, and several blaster marks on her body.
“Shhhh.” Cael looked over her upper body, trying to figure out how to remove her armour to try to work on her injuries there. While he didn't know the woman well, and she might be willing to hunt him for the right price, he wasn't about to let someone die if he could do something to help them. “You can tell me what happened later.”
Reaching in to the kit, he pulled out an injector with a pain medication in it. “I'm sorry,” he said in advance, before jabbing it in to her arm. Lianna gritted her teeth as he placed the injection in her, and for a moment he thought that she might try to hit him. When he removed it, she seemed to settle down, going back to breathing heavily.
When he reached over to look for a clasp on her armour, she reached up to stop him. “Cael... you don't... listen... the Empire... tell Krell... attacking... ore... shipments....”
Cael looked towards her again, catching her eyes for a moment. He could see the pain still in them, and the desperation to pass on the information. Shock overcame him at the same time: the Empire? How did she know? “They did this to you, didn't they?” he said with concern. “Lianna, you need to rest. Don't worry, I'll tell Krell.”
With a slight nod, she allowed him to do what treatments that he knew how to do. She winced as he tried to work on the armour, but felt the pain killers start to take effect. The sensations began to die down, her breath normalising. "I have to get in touch with someone in House Bertrayn," she said suddenly, trying to focus on the business at hand, and not the fact that Cael was helping her.
"Were they the ones being attacked?" Cael asked as got the armour over her head.
"Yes." Lianna looked away from Cael. The truth was something to be shared with someone rendering you aid, but Cael wasn't exactly a fighter. She realised then that she was afraid for him, that he would go and do something foolish like try to help when he didn't know exactly what he was doing. "I need to find out exactly how they got the information, but...."
She thought back to the incident on board the Bertrayn ship. The security precautions that they had taken seemed to have exceeded the normal. It was entirely possible that they had been alerted to a possible attack, but then it was also possible that Captain Estabar was just extra cautious. Her precautions would almost certainly have been tighter, and included several more random patrols.
"Li?"
Cael's voice broke her out of the thought. "What?" His words took a moment to sink in. "Did you just call me 'Li?'"
"Um... yeah...." Cael looked a little embarassed at it. "I, uh, tend to shorten names sometimes."
She laughed, watching turn away and blush a little. "No, it's nothing wrong, Cael. Everyone has their little quirks." *And it doesn't hurt that he's attractive.* Pushing her thoughts back to the matter at hand, she had to consider what they knew of the Noble Houses... and at once, had an answer. "Zara Orsiri."
Cael's look of shock was hardly concealable. "Zara Orsiri?" he spoke slowly, carefully. Her name was comming up a lot, ever since Dael brought him some information to try to decode, a little side project that he was trying his hardest to break into. "You think she's involved in this too?" At once, he regretted the slip.
Lianna raised an eyebrow at the 'too.' Cael knew something about Zara, probably something illegal that she was invovled in. Still, that should hardly be surprising, since he was perhaps the single best slicer on all of Vorgrell. As she watched him with her carefull gaze, she smiled with amusement as he began to say, "I just said something I probably should have, shouldn't I?"
"You know Zara Orsiri is involved in something," Lianna said. "Wouldn't be the first time she's done something illegal. But no, she's known to keep some friends in Imperial circles, and it makes me wonder if she doesn't know anything about this."
Cael nodded, and thought for a minute before answering. He knew that Lianna would probably go off to try to find out if she did know anything now, and he was more than a little curious as well. "There is a chance, if you wanted to find out something more," he said. "Zara Orsiri is having a masquerade. A friend of mine mentioned it." At Lianna's raised eyebrow, he continued. "Just one problem: security arrangements."
Lianna listened as he explained the security arrangements, thinking on them, at least the ones that he knew about. Once they got through the first line, things would be more able to proceeed, but it would be getting admitted that was the difficult part – once inside, all they had to do was look like they belonged, and it wasn't likely that anyone would trouble them. Who would want to take the chance of annoying the guests and putting their career in jeapordy?
"Then it's settled," she finally said, starting to get up. The course was fairly obvious to her. "I'll contact Captain Morris straightaway."
"No, no, let me," Cael interrupted. Lianna stopped in surprise at this offer – Morris did not know him, and would hardly be expecting him to contact. In the end, he convinced her to allow him to go to a meeting with him in her place. "You need to rest, and the Empire will probably be doing a search for you for a couple of days," he'd finally protested and got her to agree. Now he wondered just what he had gotten himself into....
Cael and Garim Meet
Krayn’arh’s Bar, Plateau City
27 Epsilon 75
22:57
Cael nervously touched the blaster at his side, hoping that he wouldn't have to try to use it. He never was the best with the weapons, but often times found that just drawing one could end a confrontation before it even began. A few masochists aside, nobody liked to actually get shot with a blaster, and fortunately he'd never met any of the small group that did.
Still, he thought as he listened to the band playing, Lianna could have picked a better Cantina for when she contacted Captain Moriss. If the Captain decided to betray her, he would be sorely disappointed. When he finally saw someone who he thought matched the description Lianna gave him, he ordered another drink before moving over to join him.
“Hey,” he said, behind him gently. “Li sent me.” Hopefully, Morris would be able to figure out exactly whom he referred to.
Garim gave the new arrival a long, studious stare before kicking the opposite chair out with the toe of his boot and gesturing for the man to sit. “You’re Cael?” he said curiously, “I expected you half an hour ago.”
“Well, it took me a while to find you,” Cael returned, which was true. It had taken him a while to try to figure out exactly who he was trying to find. “You don't exactly stick out without the uniform, and Li is still recovering.”
“It’s in my interests not to draw attention to myself,” said Garim stoically, “but I’m sorry to hear that Lianna is still not at her best. She told me of her involvement on board the Oceanus, she is very lucky to have escaped by all counts. So far, no one has heard word of any survivors amongst the crew.”
“That's probably because there were no survivors,” Cael replied sadly, thinking of the description that Lianna had given of what happened. “From what Li said, the Empire was most effective, and the only reason that she escaped was by fleeing at the first chance. Stormtrooopers aren't known for leaving behind witnesses.”
“Indeed,” Garim agreed, sighing slightly. “It is just a shame that she has no proof, unfortunately nobody will believe the word of a stowaway bounty hunter – regardless of truth.”
“Which is where you come in.” Cael paused to take a large helping of his drink, hoping that Garim wouldn't notice his nervousness. His speciality was breaking into computer systems, not clandestine meetings, but he was locked in to this one.
“At least one of the Noble Houses is certainly collaborating. I know who I would bet on, and...” Cael sighed. Would Garim actually help them, or not? “There's a masquerade ball coming up soon. If we could get in, it would be the perfect cover to access the mainframe from the inside.”
*The Princess again,* thought Garim irritably. Was there nothing underhand on Vorgrell that Zara was not a part of? “And you expect me to get you inside?” he stated rather than asked. “I dislike the Empire’s presence on Vorgrell as much as the next man, especially if they are to blame for the recent attacks on the transport ships. But what makes you think that I would violate my position in such a manner?”
That was the crux of the matter, Cael knew. Even Lianna hadn't been sure that she could secure the captain’s help, except that she had faith in him to want to do the right thing. Oddly enough, Lianna's belief that Garim was an honourable man led her to expect just this complication.
“You're a good man, Garim. We don't expect you to do it. Just to provide a means that will allow us bluff our way in.”
It was a risk, but Cael understood enough of Lianna’s culture to know that this was exactly the approach she would take: give Garim a way to stay true to his duty and still provide help. “The outer layer of security is a passcard, that should be issued in a day or two. If one of them is missing they'll change the whole lot, but if we could 'borrow' one long enough to scan it and get it back before it was known to be missing...”
Garim ran a hand through his hair awkwardly; he was at odds with himself. On the one hand he had his duty to the Bertayns, that didn’t include loyalty to Zara Orsiri but all the same it would be a violation of the trust placed in him to use his position for his own ends. On the other hand if proof could be gained of Zara’s collaboration with the Empire and her subsequent betrayal of the noble houses of Vorgrell then he would be helping everyone and making sure that justice was served.
“The passcards aren’t issued until the morning before, but I have already made security arrangements for those assigned to the Bertrayn’s to be collected by an armed guard.”
Cael smiled, feeling a bit of relief pass over him. Captain Morris was all but offering to help, and offering a way to handle it too. All they would have to do is replace the armed guard. “Have you assigned anyone in particular?” he asked. “If someone could go in his place, that would be ideal.”
And hopefully it would give Cael enough time to do a scan. There was so much they would have to look for, though! In addition to whatever they could find about shipments and communications, there was the matter of the disappearance of Zayen, and the Coup on top of that.
“We still might not find anything,” Cael cautioned, already drawing up a list in his mind of what he would need – and be able to get in – so that, at the very least, he could leave a backdoor or two. “But thank you. You have no idea how deep we suspect Zara's involvement of being, but if we're right you'll have done the right thing.”
“I’ve assigned one of my best senior Lieutenants,” informed Gairm sombrely. Thankfully the Lieutenant in question was Zak, and even if he might become suspicious when asked to stand down from the detail, he at least would have the presence of mind not to question it.
“Changing the rota shouldn’t be a problem, if you can make sure that the duplicates are made in the time it takes to get from Orsiri Palace to Bertrayn, then nobody will be any the wiser. As for doing the right thing… I only hope you’re right.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
25th Epsilon 75
14:25
(Planet Dorsa time)
Instrument panels in the Siren’s Song cockpit were alive with red, flashing trouble lights, its sensors beeping and hooting. The screens kept showing information displays at the highest speed possible.
Daell leaned forward in her pilot’s seat, flicked her eyes from instruments to screen and quickly assessed the situation. Her blue, beautiful face creased in a frown full of concern and her lekku extended tensely down her back. Beyond the cockpit panes, the surface of the planet Dorsa drew steadily nearer and so did the asteroid belt around it. Daell swore under her breath, talking to the Siren as she usually did when in extreme situations.
“We’ve been through worse situations before, girl – just don’t give up on me, ok, sweetie?” She added as her hands run with ease over the controls. Daell engaged all main batteries and raised the shields as she flew with increasing speed down the planet. Too much speed, but there was no way she could prevent it, she just hoped the freighter didn’t overheat reaching Dorsa.
Gripping the controls firmly, Daell let go a war cry and plunged into the asteroid ring. She flipped the Siren into a spin on her horizontal axis and brought it over a huge hunk of rock and later down through the centre of a couple of spinning asteroids. The freighter shook with an impact against its shields and Daell cursed again, but kept on flying.
“Yes! We’re done girl!” she shouted as the ship cleared off the belt and set on a safer route towards the planet’s surface. She let herself relax only a second against her seat and then straightened again. She was still going too fast, it wouldn’t be an easy flight. She set course towards Dorsa City and started working on her controls, hoping to decrease in some her speed. She'd had to do a full system check up once in the city if she wanted to leave Dorsa at all, she thought. At the moment she had a date to keep.
After a quick and heated dialogue with D.C. Starport Control, the Twi’lek managed to manoeuvre the freighter over the starport in a couple of loops till she aligned with the docking platform she had been directed to. The platform itself was suspended hundreds of meters in the air, which made landing easier, even at her speed.
Daell could feel the hot wind in her face when she set foot outside the Siren – it didn’t prevent her skin from glistening with perspiration instantly. Dorsa was a hot, humid planet, and Dorsa City – or D.C. – rose in the middle of its planet-wide equatorial tropical forest. She walked to the platform’s brim, guarded just by a low steel railing and looked down at the city below, shinning white and silver in the middle of the jungle green, while she waited for starport control to come pick her up – or down, actually.
It wasn’t her first time on the planet. Dan had had some friends there, people she’d contact as soon as she got down on firm ground. A slight smile curved her blue lips, there was even some people she wouldn’t mind seeing again. Too bad she'd had to fly to D.C. to meet them. She slapped a blood-drinking creature on her neck, and cursed, you had to hate jungle planets. She just couldn’t stand the humidity, the bugs, the heat…
Daell couldn’t wait to finish her business in D.C., fix the Siren and get the hell out of Dorsa.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
25th Epsilon 75
17:05
Dorsa Planet.
The sign over the cantina’s door, The Blue Sabre, written both in Basic and Huttese, was barely readable, and the dirty glass on the slide doors showed only condensation beads in the inside. Daell stopped a second and pulled the hood of her cloak back from her face before palming the entry plate and watching the doors slid open in front of her.
The jingle of metallic strips sang a discordant chime, announcing her entry into the room. Letting the door shut behind her, Daell glanced about and smiled. The same usual people of every other seedy cantina in the galaxy stared at her with the same concealed interest. There were a couple of sleazy Rodians almost sprawled over the bar, a few other assorted creatures sitting around a couple of tables and the bartender, of course, an incredibly huge Duros. Daell guessed only a Duros could stand the cantina’s atmosphere for hours with no end.
With a hand resting lightly on the blaster hanging low on her hip Daell walked towards the bar with the brisk, confident stroll she affected almost unconsciously when in that company. She chose a stool near the door and sat, calling the barman, as she let her cloak fall from her shoulders. The insulated cloth protected her from the heat and curious eyes, but she didn’t need it inside the cantina.
“Hold your breath, twikky,” grunted the big thing as he approached her with an ugly expression in his green face. “We don’t need dancers here, and I don’t want whores ruining my business. Go lie on your back somewhere else.”
Daell narrowed her purple eyes and smiled coldly, “and I don’t need a piece of slime like you calling me whore. And what business is it?” she asked, taking a look around. Some of the heads had raised at the exchange, and she finally saw some interest sparkle in their eyes. “Shut your trap and give me some brandy.”
“You know what I do with pretty little ladies like you, brain tail?” menaced the duros, walking around the bar counter to stand towering besides her.
The Twi’lek unhooked her blaster and stood up to gain height but she still had to look up at the creature to answer. “You eat us for breakfast? I’d like to see you try…"
“No… I just hug them to death!!” The Duros laughed as he hugged her, lifting her up high from the floor. Daell shrieked in pleasure and punched him on the back. “How are you girly!!! It’s been aaaaages, you never come visit your uncle Creb!”
“Creb, please… I’m dying here!” She laughed and gave him a sound kiss on the creature’s cheek. When the creature finally put her down Daell looked around for a second, before going on. “I need to speak to you, Creb, in private. And is there any of the gang around at the moment?”
The Duros looked at her and smirked, but he lowered his voice. “Back to the old days, girly? I thought you had given up the business.”
Daell made a face. “I had. But I need the cash, and this seems a good job.”
“Fair enough,” Creb took a greasy handkerchief from his even greasier apron’s pocket and passed it over his face. “There’s Javier in here, he’s playing Sabacc. I guess he’ll be happy to help you.”
“Jav? I thought he was running a smuggling circuit from Mon Gazza?”
With a frown, Creb replied, “he was, until the Imperials got word of it.”
“I better take care then, he must be in a dark mood,” Daell laughed.
“Going better, he was stripping a Chagrian last I knew.” He smirked at the Twi’lek.
“Then I better take advantage of that,” she answered and walked confidently to the back of the cantina. There was a huge music compound, out of order for longer than she had lived, and another metal curtain separating the more private areas of the cantina from the general public. A small door led her to a smaller room, and as the door swung open rays of light entered the dim space, piercing clouds of smoke. Daell had to squint for a moment to see.
There was a round table in the middle of the room, filled with credit chips and Sabacc cards. The Chagrian, blue skinned and horned, looked a little sick and he was watching his cards as if they would change value in his hands. There was a couple more players, a Kubaz, obviously exceedingly pleased with himself, and a human. The man didn’t even raise his eyes when she entered, even if the other two did. His face was a picture of despair, and Daell almost chuckled.
“Things aren’t going too well, Jav, are they?” she said, as she walked round the table to stand near her father’s old friend. He looked just as she remembered him, dark as sin. The black in his eyes and hair matched his clothes, all black but a white collarless shirt. His shoulder long hair was tied at his neck in a short pony tail and even if she didn’t see it, she could picture the holster and blaster on his left hip clearly in her mind.
“Hello gorgeous,” Javier Lazarno said, without looking as put his cards on the table. Daell quickly assessed his hand, bad cards - he was losing. His eyes were full of anguish when he finally raised them. “Not at all. But you light my day, Daell. Please take a seat.”
“Yes, gorgeous, take a seat,” repeated the Kubaz, assessing her with his golden eyes. Daell could almost see him speculating on her worth. “Do you play Sabacc? We need another player, ‘tis better with four.”
Daell giggled and sat gracefully near the creature. “Not really, it’s very complicated, with those special cards and all. And I can never remember their values either. I better watch.”
“Oh, but I could teach you,” the Kubaz moved a little closer to Daell, his hand taking hers in his. “With these fingers, you’ll probably shuffle greatly… and you look like a smart lady. I’m sure you’ll get it quite quickly…”
Daell giggled again, and covered her mouth, “I don’t know, do you really think I could play?”
“No, dear, just watch,” Came Javier’s words from her other side. He moved a little closer to her and put a protective arm on her shoulders. “Don’t bother the lady, Bach.”
“Hey, if the girl wants to play, who are you to stop her?”
“Yes, who are you to stop me?” Daell exchanged a look with the human, her eyes twinkling, “my father?” The Twi’lek shook the man’s arm off and looked at the Kubaz with coquettish eyes. “Maybe if you wrote me those values I could give it a try.”
“Of course beautiful,” Bach answered, already searching his pockets for a scrap of paper to write on.
Antonio Banderas plays Javier Lazarno
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
25th Epsilon 75
17:25
Dorsa Planet
“Well, Bach, how do you play this game?” Daell asked the Kubaz who was expertly shuffling the cards. She loved getting glimpses of the cards changing values when shuffling. The creature was obviously a good player, and he had to be to have put Jav to shame. “Wow, they’re changing!” she affected a small cry and a wonder expression in her eyes.
The Kubaz divided the very large deck of playing cards in half as he gave the Twi’lek a self-satisfied glance. “Of course dear, they have small processors inside. I thought you had played this game.”
“Oh, yes. I have.” Daell assured the creature.
“Hmmph!”
The Twi’lek turned to the human, “what!? I have played Sabacc, Jav!”
“Playing with your father wasn’t playing, dear, he always let you win.” Came the response from Javier, who was watching intently at the flying hands of the Kubaz.
“He so didn’t!! You’re just begrudged because I won the last time we played!”
“That’s because I let you win too, Daell.” The patient quality of his voice made the Kubaz and Chagrian chuckle as one. “You couldn't beat a dead bantha with a stick.”
Daell humphed and didn’t deign to answer him. She turned to Bach again. “Don’t pay attention to him, I can play. You just give me a run through and I’m sure I’ll manage.”
Javier leant back on his chair and raised his hands in defeat. “Ok, if you want to be fleeced, ‘tis your life!”
“There are seventy-six cards in a Sabacc deck,” started Bach paying no attention to the human. “Sixty cards have ranked cards in four suits, and there are two types of eight different special cards. Follow me?”
She nodded, and took the piece of paper the creature had written for her. “Let me read the values again, ok? That’s where I have most problems,” she said and studied the sheet like her very existence depended on it. A few seconds later she raised her eyes. “Now I just need to have twenty-three points, right?”
“Yeah, that’s Pure Sabacc, twenty-three or minus twenty-three. You can call the hand, or make us show our cards, at any time after the fourth round. Whoever has the highest score wins.”
“Cool,” Daell answered, a smile beaming on her face. “I’m ready.”
“Not that it matters,” Javier interrupted again, his eyes rolling. “You’re faaaar too good at this game…”
“I’m glad we both agree.” She answered him sweetly, before turning to the other players. “Let’s play.”
A couple of hours later, Daell was looking at her cards, as she bit her lip. Her lekku were entwined at her back in concentration and she could see the eyes of the aliens on her, while they waited with avid eyes for her to lie her cards. Jav was just leaning back on his chair, a picture of carelessness, but his eyes were on her as well.
She had been losing most hands after the first couple that the Kubaz had let her win, and the hand pot was raising. She eyed the pile of chips covertly and almost groaned. There must be almost five thousand credits in there.
“This isn’t going to end well…” she mused under her breath, and blushed a little – a soft violet hue to her blue cheeks – when she noticed they’d heard. She sighed, and fingered her cards. All together they were worth twenty-two points, enough to win the hand. But she didn’t want to win, not yet. She sighed again and discarded two of her cards, taking two more in their place. Good, now she had thirteen points. With her best non-Sabacc face, she moaned again.
“Ok, let’s do it, it can’t be that bad, it’s calling hand anyway!” she said at last, laying her cards on the table and watching with apparent horror as the Kubaz chuckled and laid his. Twenty-two points. The Chagrian moaned and presented his eighteen point worth cards as well. Jav cursed and followed suit. He’d lost again.
The Kubaz smirked, if that could be called a smirk, and leant over to collect the hand pot. Daell watched in silence for a second, and then laid her hand on top of his. The golden eyes of the creature turned to her in puzzlement and his hand flew to his blaster. She could feel the tension in the room, both the Chagrian and Javier straightened in their seats. She smiled then, to break the ice.
“Let’s say we leave it there and play a final round?” she asked, smiling sweetly at him. There was a little desperation in her eyes, and the creature leered. “I’m sure I can better my luck, please… one more round?”
The creature doubted, he had been fleecing the Twi’lek for two hours already, and there wasn’t much in the way of chips in her side of the table. But still… the girl was daft. Jav’s cautious voice of warning made up Bach’s mind.
“Only if we double the stakes, what else do you have to bet girl?”
Daell bit her lip, and looked from the pile of chips to the Kubaz’s face. Then she made a decision, showing him a datacard, one of Cael’s best jobs. “My cargo. Two tons of the best ryll.”
Bach’s eyes shone. “Deal,” he said and she heard Jav groan, the Chagrian was too lost in his misery to even whimper, he just threw up his hands.
“I’m through, guys.” He didn’t have anything else worth betting. Bach stared at Javier then, raising a furry eyebrow in question.
“I’m gonna kill you, Daell,” he said.
“If you don’t have anything to bet, don’t play,” she said hardly, turning to him, but their eyes danced.
“Oh, but I have,” he answered, throwing the locker chip of his landspeeder onto the table. “Enough?” he asked the Kubaz. As answer Bach just started shuffling the cards again.
Jav watched the concentration on Daell’s face and hid his smile. He had been shocked to see the Twi’lek again after… what? Six years? Probably. The girl was as beautiful as she had been when she was running smuggling circuits with his grumpy father. Not a girl anymore, though. She hadn’t been a girl since she had had to space her father so before his time. He stared at the numbers and pictures on his cards, considering whether to discard or not. He didn’t know yet if she wanted him to play to win or to lose this time. She extended her spotted arm to take a new card and almost jumped in delight.
“You’re so gonna loose!” she warned and he nodded to himself. Good to know what one had to do.
“I don’t think you’re in the position to be cocky,” he answered, as he discarded three perfectly good cards in favor of three terrible ones. He grimaced, “Soon your ship will be two tons lighter.”
“No way,” she said, studying her own cards.
Bach chuckled at the exchange and tossed two of his cards out into the discard pile, accepting two new cards that seemed to please him much more. He was almost boasting when he spoke.
“I’ll call it now and save myself the trouble of this hand,” the Kubaz said arrogantly. He laid his minus twenty-two worth cards on the table and Daell’s mouth opened as if to say something. Javier groaned and threw his cards face down on the hand pile.
“I think I won,” he said and started to collect the stakes.
“How much did you say this card was worth?” Daell asked, interrupting the alien, as she showed him a card with a small silly creature pictured on it - the Idiot card.”
“That’s a face card, girl. Zero,” he almost spat. “It’s worth nothing.”
“Not along with these other two,” she said innocently, as she laid a pair of twos and another pair of threes on the table – an Idiot Array – that made her the winner of not only the hand pot but the Sabacc pot.
“That’s good,” Jav whistled happily.
“Too good!” the Kubaz almost shouted, his eyes were almost rounding out of his ugly face. “You said you didn’t know how to play this game!!”
“I said I never remembered the values of face cards, it’s not the same,” she answered, smiling broadly at the creature while she started to collect her chips. “You were very much obliging at writing them for me.”
Another Dream Crushed
29 Epsilon 75
16:23
Introducing Miriam Margolyes as Evie Yasenia
“Hold on tight now.”
Arica gripped the cumbersome rig in both hands as the madris straightened up, hoisting her aboard its back. Once up, she arranged her legs into the awkward side-saddle and straightened out the length of her dress. Pants would have made more sense for riding, something slim fitting with stretch so that she could move easier - like the professionals that raced in the great tournaments at the Hapes Madris Racetrack just outside of Plateau City. But her father - and thereby her uncle also, would never allow her to wear anything so ’vulgar’.
“Watch you don’t fall off!”
Arica nodded yet paid little attention to the middle-aged woman who fussed about at her heels. Evie Yasenia had been her nursemaid for over ten years – a brusque and stern matriarch that had earned her credentials by adhering to a strict set of rules and disciplines – all of which she’d thrown aside when it came to Arica. So devoted to the child was Evie that she didn’t even think twice about leaving her home on Coruscant so that she could remain at her post when Arica left to live with the Bertrayns. To Evie, looking after the needs of Miss Odari-Mosora wasn’t merely a job, having no children of her own, Arica was the closest thing to a daughter that Evie had ever known and she loved her as such.
But like any employee, Evie was still bound to follow the orders of her employers. Though frequently, over the years, she had frowned upon the parental methods of Mordan Odari-Mosora, and also now Oldrak Bertrayn, it was not in her power to oppose them.
“It’s not like it’s my first time in the saddle,” Arica reminded the fussing woman with a dismissive sigh, uncurling the straps of the harness about the neck of her madris. “I know what I’m doing.”
“I still say they should let you ride properly, none of this stupid side-saddle business. You WILL fall one day, and probably break your neck too I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Evie,” complained Arica, her voice strained and immediately child-like.
“Fine, fine, what do I know? I’m only your nurse! I only bathed and fed and dressed you from being a mere babe. I only took care of you every time you caught a cold or had a tummy ache. I-“
“Evie!” said Arica again, sighing heavily. She looked down at the woman, putting on the same pouty, wide-eyed look that had let her get her own way so many times with Evie she’d lost count. “I promise I won’t ride too fast, okay?”
Without waiting for a reply, Arica patted the smooth skinned pelt of the madris, her gloved hand stroking across the beast’s powerful shoulder muscles. “You hear that Habir?” she soothed, “no galloping today, we don’t want to make Evie mad.”
“Stop that now Miss Arica,” demanded Evie, though her voice had lost its sharp edge. “Don’t you go trying to make me feel guilty. I’m only thinking about your safety, somebody has to!”
“Walk with me then,” Arica suggested, “that way you can make sure I don’t go too fast.”
Evie nodded, smiling and set a steady pace while the girl rode ahead, the madris bobbing lightly up and down as he trotted along happily. Evie watched as Arica held her poise, back straight yet not rigid, allowing her to move in time to the madris’ natural gait.
“Mind you don’t go too far ahead,” Evie shouted out as the girl took off at a faster pace. At receiving the warning Arica immediately steered the madris back round, performing a slight gallop before trotting around Evie in a circle.
“Am I doing better, do you think?”
She nodded again. “Much better, you almost look like a pro.”
Evie noticed the proud blush to Arica’s face as she rode off ahead again, and felt warm inside, glad that she’d praised her. Arica wasn’t a proud child, never had been, perhaps, as a result of her father’s constant quest for perfection she felt she had little to be proud of. But regardless, Evie was proud enough of her accomplishments for the both of them. She was a girl who had never known the unconditional love of a mother, a girl whose father, though kind and honest, fell short of any ideal. His idea of raising a child had been to hand her over to the care of professionals - nannies, nurses and governesses. And while each had showered their own kind of love upon the girl, falling immediately for her sweet and temperate nature, none, not even Evie herself could make up for such a gaping loss.
And yet Arica was a credit to herself, and to the whole host of individuals who’d helped raise her. Evie remembered herself at eighteen, she had been unmanageable and rebellious - a constant source of heartache to her poor old mother. Evie remembered bringing home her first boyfriend at the age of sixteen and being caught kissing in the scullery. Had she still been a child her mother might have tanned her hide, as it was she got stuck washing dishes all weekend as punishment. Sometimes she really would have preferred the spanking.
In comparison, Arica hardly ever seemed to get into such scrapes. Either abiding strictly by the rules of her elders or never getting caught. Evie suspected the former and worried, worried that the poor girl would never experience the life of a young, carefree teenager before she was married off to some stuffy nobleman.
Maybe that was why Evie indulged her so, why, when Arica was still a child she’d snuck into her room at night and they’d played games and had midnight feasts and told each other fantastic stories. Maybe that was why she’d defended the girl’s request to take madris riding lessons when she was only eleven - despite her own fears that she might suffer an accident. And maybe that was why, whenever her father had been away from Coruscant, Evie had given her a free reign to do as she pleased.
After ten more minutes, Arica came trotting back to Evie, her cheeks pink from the exertion of riding and her hair wild about her face. But her eyes glowed with delight and amusement, dismounting the madris and untangling the harness from around her gloved wrist.
“Good ride?”
“The best,” beamed Arica, removing her riding hat and holding it in one hand while she pulled off her gloves. “Habir is getting so much stronger, I think he’d be able to compete in the races.”
Evie laughed, “some how dearest, I doubt your uncle would say the same, not if you intended on doing the racing.”
Arica did her best not to pout in disappointment but it showed through regardless. “But nobility ride in the Hapes Madria Tournament all the time! Just look at the Jay’vex clan!”
“It’s not me you have to convince,” said Evie, smiling sadly, “your father wouldn’t allow it and neither would Baron Bertrayn, they hardly approve of your riding in the first place, never mind racing.”
Whereas any other teenager, after being told that they can’t do something, would probably sulk or stomp off in a temper or utter those infamous words ”It’s not fair!”. Arica said nothing. She bit the lower half of her bottom lip, as though trying to contain her disappointment, and just when it seemed that she might object… she said nothing.
Handing her gloves and riding hat over to Evie, she merely kept her head down and headed back towards the palace. Taking up the madris’ harness Evie watched her leave, another dream crushed.
A New Tact
Oldrak Bertrayn’s Study, Bertrayn Palace
29 Epsilon 75
17:00
~ ~ ~ Incoming Message ~ ~ ~
Looking up from his datapad, Oldrak switched on his holo-receiver, a dim beam of light gradually taking shape as the flickering holographic image of Morden Odari-Mosora appeared on the panel, not more than three feet high.
“Morden, an unexpected pleasure.”
“I hope I am not disturbing you?”
“Not at all,” a slight pause. “It is good to hear from you friend, you look well.”
A series of minor civilities passed between the two old friends, the sort of questions and answers that begin almost every conversation. After almost five minutes of this, Morden grew quiet, his holographic image flickering as though an extension of his worry.
“And… how is my daughter? Her last transmission was over three weeks ago.”
Oldrak paused, chewing the inner corner of his mouth. He had not told Morden the incident of Arica’s kidnapping, all had been resolved so quickly and cleanly and with so very few repercussions that there seemed little need to alarm his old friend.
“She is well, Morden, more than well. She flourishes on Vorgrell, like a summer flower in full bloom she grows more beautiful every day. She has even taken up riding the madris again, side-saddle of course.”
“Of course,” chuckled Morden, his voice laced with underlying relief as he remembered fondly his daughter’s liking for the creatures. At age ten she’d openly declared her life’s ambition - should she not make her mark as a writer - to be a champion rider in the Madris Races on Vorgrell. That had been Myklos’ influence, the only down side to his visits being the impression that they left upon his young girl. Of course Morden main concern had been to protect his daughter’s enduring virginity, and so, although he allowed her to ride the madris he prohibited her from riding any other fashion barring side-saddle.
“And… how is Irina? I’ve had no news as to her health.”
It was all Oldrak could do not to smirk at that question. The old man was so desperate to marry off his daughter, so anxious to see her provided for and established. “Irina is much the same as always lately. Fragile, weak… I fear that her days upon this mortal coil are numbered and that number is few.”
Such hypocrisy. “Ah, I am saddened to hear it friend, please give her my regards and best wishes for a speedy recovery.”
For the next ten minutes they exchanged further civilities, and even great hypocrisies until the conversation – as usually happened, turned towards the object of both men’s constant thoughts: Arica.
"But you, I know she is fond of you old friend, she is endeared to your home and even Vorgrell's charms have managed to work their way into her affections. My offer still stands, if you desire her hand, it is yours… as soon as you are able to make the proposal."
That is what Morden wished of course, that Arica might settle down, put aside her 'childish' pursuits of reading and storytelling and raise children of her own - strong, healthy children to continue the bloodline. Morden had always been very disappointed not to have a son and heir. But seeing his daughter grow from an awkward and ungainly child into a remarkable beauty eased his sorrow somewhat. He knew that he should have no problem in securing her a well-positioned husband, someone of stature and import, so long as he made certain to raise his daughter in such a way as to make her agreeable.
And that's exactly what Morden had done. But Arica's sweet and temperate nature had not been opposed to such an upbringing, in fact she had flourished where many other young girls might have withered from such suffocation. Where other girls were insolent, Arica was obedient, and where other girls were unruly, Arica was polite. It was true that she possessed a headstrong and tenacious streak - but Morden was happy that most men she encountered found her faults to be charming and captivating rather than a discouragement.
Oldrak was silent. He desired little else but to make Arica his wife and to enjoy all the benefits that such a union would bestow. The chance to pluck a spring bloom from the earth and forever make it his own. To plant his seed within her young, fertile ground. But despite all his desires, Oldrak still had certain reservations when it came to winning the girl’s affections. Several times he had attempted to ascertain the persuasion of her heart, to discover whether she were warming towards him. And each time he had been left wanting.
Perhaps… perhaps a new tact was required. "As much as I appreciate your faith in my abilities and the strength of your daughter's devotion, would it not be better if such a proposal came from yourself?"
A hearty laugh. "You bid me to propose to my own daughter?"
"That's not quite what I had in mind," Oldrak smiled crookedly. "It seems to me, that Arica would be more inclined to accept my proposal should it be presented as her beloved father's most fervent wish."
Morden frowned, scratching the end of his chin thoughtfully. “You believe that she may yet refuse your hand?”
“As much as I abhor the possibility, it is still an option. Arica is young, independent minded and a much admired beauty in Plateau City’s courts. She has attracted many an eye these last few months, it would be imprudent of me not to imagine that she may already have fallen into the path of another suitor, perhaps one that better engages her romantic sensibilities.”
Morden snorted. “Without seeking to offend you, Oldrak, your piddling dukes and princes hold no favour with me, and as for Arica’s romantic sensibilities… they are entirely without merit. My daughter would be better served without such silly notions in her head - but it takes a stronger man than I to drive them out. No, no, this matter will be dealt with swiftly you have my word on that score. I shall talk with Arica as soon as I am able, I will make her see that any fancy she may have in her head is merely that. Your proposal shall not fall on deaf ears, my friend.”
“She is a dear, sweet girl,” sighed Oldrak, lazing in the lustful reminder of his sweet niece, of her girlish innocence and burgeoning womanly attributes. “I don’t mind admitting that I’m quite taken with her.”
“She will make you a good and obedient wife.”
“And I shall be forever in your debt, friend.”
Morden shook his head. “Take care of her, make her happy - that is all I ask in return. Be the faithful and loving husband she deserves.”
A smile. “Of that you can be assured.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
25th Epsilon 75
20:05
Dorsa Planet
Daell entered the small apartment with a casual step. It seemed strange that Jav was living on land, but she wasn’t asking. The apartment didn’t really look like the place she’d place Javier but she wasn’t asking about that either. She walked towards the round table in the corner and sat down as he moved towards the even smaller cooking area.
“You hungry?” the Corellian asked, not looking at her.
“You cook?” she retorted, raising an eyebrow.
At that, Jav turned and leaned on the kitchen counter, he crossed his arms and grinned. “As well as you play Sabacc, dare to try?”
Daell laughed. “Sure, it’ll be a good change, having a man cook for me.”
“At your service, girl. I’m in your debt after all,” he said with a cocky grin.
“Humph,” she said, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand. “You’d have fleeced the silly thing by the end of the night. I just sped up the process.” She giggled, “you saw his expression when I displayed my array?”
Jav had already started to cook. No synthetics – Daell noticed, he was standing over a heating element, mixing spices into a pot of what smelled like stew. He didn’t turn to answer.
“Yeah, I did. But did you notice the blaster at his hip, or the vibroblade on his waist?”
Daell shrugged. “You know me, I like to live on the edge.”
At that, Jav did turn. “I don’t know you, girl. Not anymore.” He lowered the heat to let the stew simmer and walked to the table, sitting in front of her and leaning on it. “How long has it been? Five years? A lot can happen in five years.”
“A lot has happened in five years,” Daell answered, leaning back. She hung an orange spotted arm over the chair’s back and crossed her legs. “And not only to me, what are you doing on land, Jav?”
“Bad luck, girl.” Jav sat back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “And a long story.”
“I have time,” Daell answered and winked at him.
“All riiiight, well, I was about to drop off a load of spice to Tattooine but had to do a roundabout because I almost got boarded on the way there."
"Boarded? By space pirates? Something like that?"
“Nah, by the crew of some Star Destroyer. Not so different, anyway. However, I almost had to dump my shipment--which would have been a damn shame, because the Hutts are notoriously attached to their spices. If I'd dropped it--"
“I know, I’m sure they wouldn’t have taken that lightly.” Daell said, she’d had enough encounters with and around the Hutts to know it.
“Nah, well, they just tend to have a temper when they don't get what they want." Javier was starting to enjoy the storytelling, even if the story wasn't particularly nice. He remembered the times when he would sit and listen for hours to the old family stories. The Twi’lek’s pretty face focused on his words helped too. "So I punched in the hyperspace coordinates for somewhere just outside of the asteroid field near Tatooine." He paused for dramatic effect.
"And?" Daell leaned forward eagerly.
"And then the Star takes that moment to overheat and spray sparks all over rather than take me into hyperspace." Jav grimaced, his hands flexing as if he could still feel the burns. “It wasn’t that long till the tractor beam caught me and took her to the Destroyer.”
Daell blinked and opened her mouth. “But I thought you said you hadn’t lost your shipment!”
“I didn’t get boarded.” Jav’s expression hardened and she could see he had no love for the empire. “I lost my shipment and my ship.”
“I had to be rescued by a transport... after I abandoned her.” He saw the horrified look on Daell’s face, and raised his hand in defense. “I had to! I was bracketed by that Destroyer, and didn’t have the power to get back to hyperspace,” he groused. “I lost the ship and nearly two million-weight in spice!”
“And the Hutts?” Daell paled, in horror. She couldn’t imagine losing the ship, but that wasn’t that much important besides the possibility of the Hutts wanting his hide.
“Well, I’m still here, ain't I?” He said with bitterness. “I didn’t lose my head because the spice did get there.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I finally got to Tattooine I went directly to Jabba’s. I wanted to get to some kind of arrangement with him…”
“But the imperials had already delivered the spice,” Daell stated, starting to share in his anger. It wasn’t that strange to suffer that kind of corruption, especially in Outer Rim posts.
“Exactly. Jabba didn't mind as long as he had his cargo, so I walked away freely." He got up and paced the room, it was obvious he was still furious. "Everytime I close my eyes I can see the smile of that Commander’s face as he split my profit with his crew...”
“At least you’re not in Jabba’s black list.” Daell said.
“That is something, yes.” He smiled bitterly.
“However, you must have been pretty desperate, if it brought you here to Dorsa.”
“Well, I’ve been surviving on Sabacc, a job here and there… need to save to get another ship. My wandering steps brought me here, nothing personal.” Jav winked, “Anyway, I’m not the only one in Dorsa. What are you doing here, girl?”
“First of all, I’m not a girl anymore, Jav.” She said, smiling. “That’s part of the ‘five-year-long’ thing too.”
Jav took on the long blue legs crossed at her knees, the snug fit of her shorts and tank top and the supple lekku and gave her a lop sided smile. “I can see that, girl.”
The Twi’lek rolled her eyes. “Sure. So, you need money?”
Jav laughed, “and who doesn’t? It’s true we got a fine profit off Bach, but I need to buy a ship, remember?”
“I do. And I need some help too, maybe we could be of service to each other…”
At this Jav leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his dark eyes shone with interest. “Tell me.”
“Danga root.” Daell said simply, and Jav nodded. Danga root was a highly addictive and illegal drug, forbidden in many worlds, but as the good doctor had said, when processed it was also a very powerful antibiotic. That made it a very ambiguous product, to say the least. Dorsa was one of the few worlds where Danga root could be gotten in its natural form, that was which Vish had asked for, too. “So, now you know why I’m in Dorsa.”
Jav nodded, and Daell could see that he was already making plans in his head. She was glad to have found him at the planet, of all her father’s former friends, she felt most comfortable with Javier. For one, he was younger than most, and human. She had a special fondness for humans.
“There’s not so much to split, though, let me warn you. I’ve been offered eighteen hundred. I can give you a third of that.”
“And a ticket to Vorgrell?” Jav asked. “I need to move on, been on Dorsa for too long.”
Daell smiled, and extended her hand over the table. “Deal,” she said, as she shook his.
Evie's Mission
05 Zeta 75
Arica’s Chambers, Bertrayn Palace
17:30
“There, beautiful.” Evie sighed as she placed the finishing touches to Arica’s hair adornment – a twisted metal head-dress of diamond encrusted platinum that wove throughout her thick brunette curls.
Evie took a step back, her eyes gazing approvingly at the pretty young girl’s reflection in the glass. “Why Miss Arica, you look just like a princess. You will be the belle of the ball tonight and no mistake”
“Hmmm,” murmured Arica distantly, not even taking the time to look at herself. It was the night of Princess Zara’s masquerade ball and she should have been worrying about how her performance might go - whether she had mastered the finer articulation of the glissando passage, or if she’d tuned her instrument correctly. Instead, she found herself thinking of Captain Moriss. It had been so long since that first kiss and yet sometimes it was all that Arica could think about. The firm, yet gentleness of his lips, the weight of him pressing against her, the warmth of his breath on her skin…
“Miss Arica? Are you listening to a word I say?” Evie sighed but this time her tone was filled with irritation. She leaned over her young ward’s shoulder and pounced, tickling the girl mercilessly in the ribs, Arica’s laughter pouring forth in an uncontrollable torrent of giggles.
“Ha ah! So you’re paying attention to me now are you?” teased Evie as she continued, her fingers darting across to the girl’s neck and the ticklish spot under her chin.
“Stop! Oh! Stop!” squealed Arica breathlessly as she tried to evade the woman’s hands. “Please Evie! I give! Mercy I say! Mercy!”
Evie relented, a satisfied smile on her face. “I have your attention now?”
“Oh Evie!” gasped Arica, shivering. “You’re positively wicked! Tormenting me so just because I was…”
“Daydreaming? Hmmm.” Evie’s tone held a note of speculation as she studied the young girl’s face in the mirror’s reflection. “You seem to be doing a lot more of that lately. You don’t have anything to tell me do you?”
Arica rose to her feet, walking over to where her dress hung on the back of the armoire. “Me?” she asked innocently, pretending to be interested in the intricate beadwork of her gown. “No, nothing. Why? Should I have?”
Evie narrowed her eyes in scrutiny, if there’s one thing she knew about it was teenage girls – especially when they were keeping a secret. Standing behind the girl, Evie carefully tightened the laces of her corset, pulling it more snugly about her waist.
Arica held on to the bed post as Evie worked, puffing and sighing – her usual response to whenever Evie tried to make her presentable to which her nurse’s usual response was to simply continue as before. Tucking in her pantalets, Evie straightened out the ruffles of Arica’s camisole, re-tying the small pink ribbons that held the front close.
“There,” she said with an air of satisfaction, pulling the top of the corset upwards and tightening the laces a little more. Evie picked up Arica’s gown, a dark plum creation the bodice of which had been embroidered with hundreds of tiny crystal beads. It was quite pretty if not a tad too conservative for a girl as young as Arica, but then Baron Bertrayn had been the one to choose it after all.
Evie let Arica step into the dress before she drew it upwards, threading her arms into the long sleeves. An ordinary person may have found it odd that a girl as grown up as Arica needed someone to help dress her but then ordinary people didn’t wear the kind of fashions that noble girls wore. Why sometimes it took Evie over an hour just to style the girl’s hair!
As she waited to be dressed, Arica’s mind began to wander again. She sighed heavily, gazing at her reflection in the surrounding bank of mirrors. She had tried her hardest not to think of Captain Moriss, really she had, but it was a task that she found virtually impossible. Every time she saw him it was like falling in love with him all over again.
“Secrets weigh heavy on the heart,” commented Evie as she fastened the last in a long row of buttons in place. She studied the girl’s reflection again, noting the sadness in her eyes. “What is it my little pyub? You know you can confide in me, Evie will keep your secret safe.”
Arica bit her lower lip warily, turning to face the woman that had been her nanny and nursemaid for as long as she could remember. “H-have you ever been in love, Evie?” she asked quietly, grasping hold of a loose curl of hair and looping it about the tip of her index finger.
Evie smiled wryly, expertly fixing the loose curl back in with the rest. “In love?” she said with a swing of her portly hips. ”Child you don’t get to be my age without breaking a few hearts, you know?”
As Arica giggled, Evie took her by the elbow and led her over to the dressing table and sat her down on the chair. “Come now,” she said softly, “is that why you’ve been so secretive of late? Does my little girl have herself a beau?”
Arica shook her head shyly. “No… I mean, I…” she sighed and bit her lip again. “How do you know, Evie? How do you know when you’re in love?”
“You just know,” said Evie with a smile, stroking Arica’s cheek gently. She picked up a bottle of scent from the dresser and returned to kneel in front of the young girl. Carefully, Evie removed the stopper and proceeded to dab a little of the perfume behind Arica’s ears and about her throat.
“It’s when you see them, the way it makes you feel, and how, you’d do anything to make that other person happy, it’s not being able to imagine your life without them.”
Evie stroked her hand against Arica’s cheek again, replacing the stopper to the bottle or perfume. “So little pyub… which young man is lucky enough to have captured your heart?”
“It’s not that simple, Evie,” said Arica, her dark brown eyes wide with unhappiness. “I… I do like someone but it could be difficult. He’s a good man, Evie, so very good and kind and honest. But… my father-“
“You worry he wouldn’t approve? This man he’s… of simple means?”
Arica nodded. “But it has no reflection upon his character,” she added defensively, “he is noble in so many ways. He has such a good heart and he’s brave and gallant-“
“Gallant?” smiled Evie knowingly for she loved the young girl dearly and was much accustomed to her passionate nature when provoked. “I fear there aren’t many men that could be called such outside of your books, my lady.”
“But he is!” declared Arica, turning on her seat to face the mirror. Her eyes took on a glazed, far-away expression and she absently raised her hand to her lips, fingering them lightly. “As gallant a man as was ever created.”
Evie leaned over Arica’s shoulder. “My, my, Captain Moriss really is a lucky man to have secured such devotion.”
Arica’s eyes opened wide with shock and surprise, locking with the reflected image of Evie in the mirror. “I… I never, I mean I didn’t say that it was… Captain Moriss? Really… Evie, you, you-“
“-Hush now,” interrupted Evie kindly, “I love you dearly but you’ve never been able to lie convincingly… not to me anyway.”
Evie smiled, kissing Arica on the side of the head to show that she meant no harm. “Did you really think that I’d not noticed, my sweet one? How your heart has warmed these past two years towards him? I’ve seen the way you light up when he walks into a room, your affections are clear to see for anyone that takes the time to notice.”
Arica still looked worried and so Evie squeezed her shoulders comfortingly. “As for your choice… Captain Moriss is as fine a man as there ever was – loyal, devoted, caring and oh so very handsome.”
Arica smiled shyly, looking down into her lap again, avoiding her reflection. “He is.”
“And you’re in love with him.”
Slowly Arica raised her head, looking at Evie in the mirror. She nodded. “I think I am.”
“Well then,” smiled Evie, reaching over the girl’s shoulder and picking up the crystal pendant that had belonged to Arica’s mother. Carefully she lifted the fine chain over her head and then arranged it around the girl’s throat. She smiled.
“Well then, Evie shall just have to find some way to get her two little love birds together, shan’t she?”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
05 Zeta 75
The Study of Baron Oldrak Bertrayn - Bertrayn Palace, Plateau City
18:17
“Give me a twirl then.” Oldrak smiled as his niece gave him a little show, spinning around so that the millions of tiny crystal beads that had been painstakingly sewed into the bodice of her dark violet dress glittered in the dim light.
Arica laughed, admiring her grown-up reflection in the mirror and the way in which the large crystal of her pendant caught the light, reflecting diamond-shaped patterns across her skin. The night of Zara Osiri’s masquerade ball was that very evening and she was a flutter with nerves at the thought of having to perform for such a large audience. But that wasn’t the sole reason for her gaiety. For the first time in months she felt lighter, freer, and she knew it was down to Evie and the pledge that she had made.
“It’s just perfect Uncle Oldrak, thank-you so much!”
“You’ll make me proud tonight,” he said, still beaming as the young girl glided over to where he sat and planted a grateful kiss upon his cheek. “Everyone who sees you will know that you’re a Bertrayn in heart even if not in name, my dearest Arica.”
He snatched up her hand and held it tightly, he could feel her trembling even now and so he gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be fine, more than fine! Wonderful! Spectacular!”
Arica giggled, catching another glimpse of herself in the mirror. “Oh please don’t talk about it, I’m so nervous I think I’m going to be ill… I knew I shouldn’t have gotten ready so early…”
But before Arica could give the butterflies in her stomach another thought, a young guard knocked on the door nervously. “Excuse the disturbance my lord, but you have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” the old baron echoed in surprise. “Just who is it?”
However, before the guard could even utter a reply, a small, graceful girl dressed in a beautiful coral coloured dress stepped into the room, followed in turn by two other guards wearing the royal colours of the House Orsiri.
“Uhh… Her Ladyship Arella,” the guard stammered out, surprised that the woman did not wait to be ushered in.
“Baron Oldrak,” she said softly, giving a polite bow.
“Arella,” Oldrak replied sharply, releasing his hold on Arica’s hand. He had never really trusted Zara’s handmaiden – which was just some jumped up title to lull the unwary into a false sense of security. Lady Arella was definitely not a maiden of any description, she was as deadly as she was unassuming and her virtuous appearance hid a cunning nature unparalleled.
“Looking as delightful as ever I see, may I ask what you’re doing here? It was my understanding that the guests were supposed to come to you not the other way around. Although I’ll admit, Zara always was unconventional.”
Ignoring Oldrak’s distasteful comment, the young woman turned her gaze towards Arica. “Her Royal Highness wishes that Miss Arica Odari-Mosora joins her prior to the beginning of the ball. Our transport is waiting outside, so if you would Miss Odari…”
Arica looked at her uncle uncertainly but he had already risen to his feet. “Certainly, if that is what Zara requires. I will call her personal bodyguard in directly-”
“There is no need for an entourage Baron,” Arella interrupted as, barely moments later a group of guards entered the room, led by Captain Moriss himself. “I assure you Miss Odari will be more than safe in our company. Of course your guards are welcome to arrive later with the other guests if you believe Orsiri castle is in need of a more secure defence.”
“I’m sure your security measures are more than adequate,” said Oldrak politely, “but past events would dictate that one can never be too careful when it comes to personal safety. You can be assured that our own, as you call it ‘entourage’, will indeed accompany us tonight. Though perhaps you will be satisfied if only Captain Moriss return with you to Orsiri Castle?"
A flash of annoyance crossed Arella’s porcelain face. Back on Coruscant she would have killed this old pompous idiot the second he opened his arrogant mouth. However those days were long over, now she had to abide by social graces.
“As your lordship wishes,” she replied finally, giving another bow before exiting the room.
With a nod of approval from her uncle, Arica nervously followed the woman out of the room with Garim at her side.
Orsiri Castle, Plateau City
19:03
Arella led the way to Zara’s private quarters, always walking several paces ahead of the young Bakuran noble-girl and her bodyguard and moving so swiftly that they had to quicken their footsteps considerably to keep up. Garim, for his measure, stayed close to his charge and kept his wits about him. After learning what he had about Zara Orsiri from Daell, he could do no less; he wouldn’t allow Arica to come to any harm at the hands of the ambitious princess like the rest of Vorgrell’s nobles.
As they approached the royal chambers, Arella held her hand up in front of Captain Moriss, barring his entry. “Just Miss Odari-Mosora, you may wait out here,” at Garim’s annoyed glare she smiled and added with a feline purr, “Girl talk, you wouldn’t be interested… unless I’m wrong? Am I wrong, Captain?”
“I’ll wait out here,” said Garim irritably before turning to his young charge. “If that is okay with you? I will stay right here, if you need me all you have to do is shout.”
Arica smiled and nodded though she had to admit she was rather nervous about all this. She had met the Princess many times just as she had been at Orsiri Castle many times too. But never before had Zara requested a private audience with her.
Arella held out her arm and ushered Arica through the doorway, standing close behind her. Taking a tentative step forward, Arica cautiously entered the opulent chamber, looking around for her host but she was nowhere to be seen.
“P-Princess Zara?” she stammered nervously, taking a further step into the room.
“Oh Arica, it’s so wonderful to see you again!” the princess exclaimed as she emerged from one of the three enormous walk-in closets that lined the far wall of her domicile. Zara flounced up to the young girl, the silky lavender material of her evening gown sparkling in the light.
“I’m so happy you returned safely from that horrible incident with the slavers. To think what could have happened…” Zara’s voice was sweet and full of concern, as if she actually took a genuine interest in Arica’s safety… what a ridiculous notion!
Arica tensely clasped the crystal pendant of her mothers in her hand, holding on to it tightly as Zara wrapped one of her slender arms around her back, guiding her into her boudoir.
“T-thank-you for inviting me tonight,” she said quietly, trying to inject a measure of confidence into her timid voice although she knew she must be failing dreadfully. “I’ve been practising my piece for the electroharp… I just hope I’m good enough, I’d hate to let you down in front of all those people…”
“Don’t be absurd,” the princess replied comfortingly. “From what I’ve heard you play beautifully. And besides, even if you make a mistake what does it matter? No one is perfect.”
Taking a seat on her extravagant bed, Zara tapped beside her, beckoning Arica to sit. The girl was so naïve it was almost too easy to keep up this friendly ruse the princess thought as she widened her smile in the hopes of seeming even more hospitable. “So come, tell me, what are you wearing tonight?”
Arica looked a little confused at the question, glancing down at the exquisite violet dress she was already wearing, even her hair had been styled into an elaborate do worthy of the renowned Senator Amidala herself! How could such attire fall into the category of the mundane even in Orsiri Castle?
“W-well…” began Arica, still unable to feel at ease even though the princess was obviously doing her best to try. The truth was, she found Zara intimidating. She was just so confident and self-assured, Arica couldn’t understand how anyone could be that sure of themselves.
Zara waited a moment for a response, but when none came the answer became obvious. “Oh, you’re wearing that?”
“I-I-Is there something wrong with this?” Arica replied nervously as her cheeks began to redden with embarrassment.
“Oh no of course not,” the ruler hurried to answer, rising to her feet. “You look absolutely beautiful… it’s just that… did your uncle pick this out for you?”
Arica nodded slowly, bowing her head low to avoid eye-contact with the other woman. “He buys all my gowns for these occasions. Don’t you like it?”
“Oh I’m sure it’s quite charming, it’s just… the style seems very mature for someone of your age,” Zara mused slyly. “I think you would look much better in something with more life to it. Something a little less conservative.”
With a huge grin, Zara disappeared into the second closet for a moment, only to re-emerge with a stunning blood red dress. “Something more like this!”
“Oh, oh no…” said Arica immediately as soon as she saw the magnificent gown in Zara’s arms. It was very beautiful but completely unlike anything that Arica had ever worn in her entire life. It was just so extravagant and bold… she knew that if she wore such a dress that everybody would be looking at her, and the thought of all those eyes directed solely at her…
“I-I-I couldn’t,” she stammered hastily, “really, it’s very pretty but, but I don’t think it’s really… me.”
“Its not you? Its not you? BAH! Of course it’s you! Come, come, stand here in front of the mirror,” Zara commanded placing the dress before Arica. Do you see how perfect it is? Oh dear Arica, it would make me so very happy if you were to wear it,” she pleaded.
Inside Zara smirked. The young girl was the perfect pawn to help bring down the House of Betrayn. Already her spies inside the Baron’s castle had informed her of rumours brewing about the relationship between the daughter of Morden Odari-Mosora and Oldrak. If she managed to gain the girl’s trust, she could orchestrate another little downfall. Once Oldrak was out of the way, the bloodline would be over and with the Empire’s backing she could consolidate the Betrayn power into her kingdom.
“Well…” Arica glanced at her reflection with visible unease. She didn’t want to insult the princess by rejecting her generous offer but at the same time she couldn’t imagine wearing the dress that she was holding up against herself. The silk bodice looked so narrow Arica even doubted that she would be able to breathe once wearing it, and the neckline was so low… she was sure that it would barely cover her breast.
What would her uncle think if he saw her wearing such a dress? Surely he would command her to return home before she’d even plucked the first bar of ”Oh Glorious Empire”
Arica had almost convinced herself that she must refuse the princess even if it risked offending her when Zara decided to take matters into her own hands – quite literally. Before Arica even knew what was happening the ruler had unfastened the back of her dress and was already slipping it over her shoulders, exposing her bare flesh.
Arica blushed with embarrassment, offering little more than anguished gasps and unformed stammers in protest against her molestation. Zara smiled and, with an expert tug, pulled the girl’s corset in tighter, simultaneously slimming her already waspish waist and hoisting her cleavage upwards. Arica gasped again, only this time in pain as all the air was expelled from her lungs in one fell swoop.
“Trust me,” said Zara with another secretive smile as she slid the fluid material of the scarlet dress upward over the girl’s old-fashioned underclothes and fastened the dozens of tiny hooks at the back. “There…” she announced in satisfaction as she straightened out the off-the-shoulder straps.
“See how wonderful you look? I’m completely jealous. You will be the most beautiful girl at the ball. Oh Arica,” Zara sighed turning to hide her face. “I’m so happy you came. To be honest, with my family gone, I get terribly lonely here. I spend all my days with duties and obligations that I don’t have any time for a social life anymore... It feels so good to have a female friend I can just talk to.”
It was all too easy she thought, turning to steal a peak at Arica’s reaction. Yes, this girl was going to be a powerful tool in the princess’ future schemes; she would help rid Zara of another of the pesky royal families.
“I’m sorry Princess Osiri,” said Arica kindly, placing a gentle hand upon her sagging shoulder. She had heard many rumours in the past about the Princess, how she was haughty and cold, but Arica could see none of that in the woman who stood before her. In fact she seemed the very picture of sadness and isolation.
“I… I know what it’s like to be alone. I have my father but I don’t see him except for in holorecordings… I know it’s not the same as losing your family because he’s still alive… but sometimes he seems so far away, I feel like I may never see him again.”
Arica sighed softly though just the act of drawing breath from her crushed lungs beneath her corset was an effort in itself. “I love Uncle Oldrak, don’t misunderstand me. He’s very kind and good to me, but he’s not real family… and I miss my father so much.”
“Well my dear, you are welcome here whenever you get lonely; we can keep each other company.”
Looking at the time, Zara was surprised to see that the ball was beginning soon. She had matters to attend to and she couldn’t very well waste it on this faux noble. On their next meeting, Zara would truly begin the manipulation, but for their first encounter it was best to end it without saying too much. The foundation was set, now it was just a matter of time.
“Oh my, look at the time. I need to get ready myself,” Zara said apologetically. “You and your bodyguard are welcome to stay around the palace till the party begins. Make yourself at home okay?”
“Thank-you,” said Arica as she curtseyed in approbation before taking her leave of the Princess.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
26 Epsilon, 75
15:05
Siren's Song
Daell was hot and sweaty and she probably smelled worst than a bantha. Hell, she could eat a bantha, so hungry she felt. She stretched and stood up from under the Siren’s reactors and cleaned her greasy hands with a rag. She had spent at least half a day repairing those circuits. A shortcut had pasted the wires together and against the cooling ducts. As a result, the whole cooling system had almost collapsed. She had been lucky the shortcut had happened so close to Dorsa, or she would be telling a different story. However, repairing it had meant changing whole lengths of wires, and replacing the ducts where heat had lessened their integrity. A long, tiring job.
“Ok, let’s see if you like it now…” she said, as she walked the steel corridors towards the cockpit. Daell sat down at her place, and deftly she punched the initializing codes. “Good girl,” she said, and she smiled brightly when she felt the familiar purr under her feet. She just needed to check the heat now, and see if it didn’t rise over normal parameters.
A beeping sound startled her, and she activated the comm. Jav was asking for permission to board. Daell stroke the authorization code and headed to the docking area. She was surprised to find him waiting for the ramp to low with a couple of big boxes besides him. She cocked her head and crossed her arms.
“What?” Javier asked, extending his arms, palms up. “The rent was due and I guessed that if I was going to fly to Vorgrell, I could as well move in.” He gave her a cocky smile. “If you don’t mind, that is. Besides, I have good news.”
“You don’t need to buy your way in with good news, Jav,” Daell said after a minute, walking down the ramp to help him carry the boxes inside. She was used to have people onboard, she was in the chartering business after all. Which was exactly why she was surprised by the uneasy feeling that his moving in brought in her. It was probably that she usually put a barrier between her clients and her, it was just business. And Jav was definitely not business. “But they’ll be welcome.”
Some minutes later, Jav was trying the bunk in the most spacious of the passengers' cabins. Daell found it funny he had chosen the same room Corin used when onboard the Siren. There couldn’t be two men less alike, but both had chosen the same cabin and tried the bunk in the same way. “Glad you like the accommodations,” she couldn’t help saying.
“Well, the ship definitely looks different than when old Dan was flying her…” Javier stood up and looked about the small but comfortable cabin. “But you’ve done a great job, considering the change of business. I also like the new name, Siren’s Song… it even rhymes.”
Daell humphed, “not rhyme, alliteration. The repetition of sounds within a phrase is called alliteration.”
“Whatever, it sounds nice.” Jav dismissed her explanation, and started to move things from the boxes to the built in cabinets. Daell noticed that he didn’t have much, it seemed he liked to travel light.
“So, what were the good news?” She asked, leaning on the cabin’s door and watching him move. The man had grace, she had to grant him that. He moved like a big dark cat.
“Oh, yes. The news. I talked to Mandral Ross, the local crime boss. We needed license to go to the farm…”
“Won't that be too expensive? Remember there isn’t so much cash involved.”
Jav turned and gave her a mischievous smile. “No need. She owes me one.”
Daell arched one eyebrow and her lekku twitched. “She?”
“Yeah, I’ve worked for her time and again. Don’t worry, she won't be a problem.”
“If you say so…” she wasn’t too convinced, but tried not to show. Crime lords - or ladies, weren’t usually so simple to handle. “So? What’s next?”
“You’ve repaired the Siren?” He asked, as he reached at Daell's temple to clean a greasy spot; the smooth blue skin was cool to his touch, and his hand lingered for half a second. At Daell’s quick retreat Javier smiled. She was nervous, even if she didn't want to show. He had some experience at reading lekku, and hers were shouting red all right. She nodded briskly and he smiled again, nonchalantly, before turning to go on 'unpacking'. “Then we fly to Donica Island, Dorsa’s biggest danga root farm.” He looked at her once more, and wrinkled his nose. "Don't worry, you'll have time to take a shower."
Daell humphed again and left the room. She could hear his laughter as she walked away.
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05 Zeta 75
Outside Zara Orsiri’s Chambers, Orsiri Palace
19:58
Garim was still waiting silently outside in the corridor when Arica emerged from Zara’s chambers. The well-defined muscles of his body flexed diminutively, tightening and relaxing as he held himself poised, ready to thrust into action if such a situation arose. Yet despite all his years of military training he was not prepared for how he felt as the much-changed sight of young Miss Odari-Mosora greeted his eyes.
“Ari?” he breathed in quiet disbelief, forgetting himself for a moment as he took in her transformation. The gown was exquisite, the colour of dark faceted rubies and so tightly fitting that he could see Arica breathing in it, in fact the small swelling of her breasts visibly rose and fell in time to each breath. Garim felt his mouth go dry, not in the two years that he’d served the young lady had he ever seen quite so much of her on display. Not that he’d been looking. Much.
“What…” he cleared his throat decisively. “What on Vorgrell happened to your dress?”
Arica smiled slightly, sliding a hand down the rich silk of her bodice. “Do you like it?” she asked shyly, tilting her head to one side. She couldn’t help but notice Garim’s reaction at seeing her and what was more she liked it, she liked how he seemed to look with such renewed interest as though he’d never quite seen her before.
“Princess Zara asked me to wear it to the ball, as a favour. She was ever so kind.”
“Zara…” mumbled Garim distantly, his eyes appreciating the bared curves of Arica’s shoulders and throat. He quickly shook himself back to his senses.
“Zara?” he said again, a hard frown creasing his forehead. Knowing what he did now about the Princess and her role in betraying the noble houses he had much cause to be suspicious of her; she was duplicitous, scheming and seemed to have very little conscience about those she destroyed on her path to supremacy. Garim didn’t know for what reason the heiress to the Orsiri House had suddenly decided to befriend his charge, but he didn’t like it and he liked this ‘make-over’ of hers even less. It had a distinct air of mischief about it.
Slowly he circled Arica, taking in every detail of her new attire. “Why would Zara ask you to wear such a thing?”
Arica’s smiled dropped at the question and she looked away. “I told you, she was just being kind. Is something wrong? Don’t you like it?”
Garim cleared his throat again; reining in every feeling that had rushed through his body upon seeing Arica dressed so alluringly. She looked beautiful, there was no denying that, but he couldn’t help but worry about the kind of reaction that it might provoke, especially with her uncle.
“Your other dress suited you fine,” he said sharply, harsher than he meant to be. “It was more than satisfactory. I don’t see why you felt the need to change just to appease someone like Zara, since when did she become your benefactor?”
Arica frowned, her bottom lip jutting out in a girlish pout. “She… she didn’t,” hesitated Arica, looking confused. “It’s just a dress… do you really not like it? I know it’s not exactly me… I mean, it’s so exotic and elegant…”
Inwardly Garim winced at her softly spoken admission, but he was also too angry with Zara to let the subject drop. “I’m not a seamstress,” he said harshly, “and women’s fashions aren’t a subject on which I’m highly versed. But if you like being Princess Zara’s plaything-“
“-Plaything?” repeated Arica, her voice rising in confusion. “What… what do you mean?”
“I mean…” Garim sighed heavily as he tried to control the annoyance he felt at the Princess. What business did she have to dress Arica up in such a manner? Surely she would know what kind of implications it could have? The unwarranted attention that it would arouse?
Or perhaps that was her plan…
“I mean…” he said again, “that if you like Zara to dress you up in this manner, like… like her own life-sized china doll, then that’s fine. But I’m not too sure what Baron Oldrak will make of it all.”
Arica paused for a moment, chewing on her lower lip anxiously – a habit that her papa had always tried to get her to stop. “Do you really think he’d disapprove?” she asked anxiously. “I… I didn’t want to say no, not to Princess Zara, she was so insistent and… she called me her friend. I was worried that… well that if I refused her generosity it might seem ungracious.”
Garim sighed again, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. “I just-“ he began abruptly, reining in his temper. “I just want you to be careful around the Princess, she isn’t all that she seems.”
“I know that,” said Arica softly, “I always thought that she was quite cold and austere, ill-natured even. But I saw a side of her I’d never expected; she misses her family so much Garim, and she’s so lonely. I think she’s just reaching out for a friend, for somebody to talk to – she said as much to me herself.”
“Ari!” Garim interrupted sharply, real horror in his eyes. He grasped hold of her by the shoulders and held her tightly. “Please, Ari, you have to promise me that you won’t see the Princess again on your own. You might think that she’s lonely and vulnerable but I can assure you that she’s neither. She is cold, Ari, in fact she’s down right heartless. If you only knew what sort of things she’s capable of…”
Arica looked horrified at his outburst, her limbs turning rigid as he held her. When Garim saw the expression of fear on her face he released her abruptly and took a sudden, awkward step backwards.
“C-Captain,” gasped Arica, rubbing at the red marks on her shoulders. “Y-you forget yourself. We may have some…” she blushed, “that is to say, you may have an interest in my welfare. But that does not give you the right to cast disparaging remarks upon those who would seek my friendship”
“An interest in your welfare?” Garim almost laughed hysterically. “Damn it Ari, you know how much I-“ he cleared his throat self-consciously. “Well, but that’s besides the point. The point IS that Zara Orsiri is a scheming, deceitful, underhanded bishwag – you just have to take my word for that and understand when I say that I want you to have nothing more to do with her!”
Arica shook her head in dismay. “I gave you my heart, not the right to dictate whom I associate with. Whatever Princess Zara might or might not be, she’s not the one who hurt me, who is still hurting me…”
Garim was silent. He could see how visibly upset Arica was, how she was struggling to hold all her emotions in check. He reached out for her hand, grimacing when she pulled away sharply.
“Ari… I… I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t,” said Arica softly, a quiet sigh escaping her lips before she turned and fled the hallway, leaving Garim standing on his own.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
26 Epsilon, 75
19:30
Siren's Song
Javier sat down in the copilot seat and his eyes sought for the controls. There was none, so he sat back and just watched the Twi’lek start the Siren’s engines and tap their destination on the navigation console.
“Donica Island it is, then.” Daell said, not looking at him, as she gained clearance from the docking tower and rose the ship off the platform. She felt, more than saw, how he slopped in his seat, comfortably adjusting to the taking off acceleration of the freighter.
"So what is the plan, Jav?” Daell went on. “What can you tell me about this Mandral Ross?”
"She’s under Kubal Sasa’s orders, this sector’s big name, here on Dorsa. Her big shot business is the roots' processing plant. She also runs a small drug ring, with a nightclub cover. There’s where we're headed."
Daell leaned back in her seat and turned to finally look at him while the ship left Dorsa City’s whiteness behind. “I thought we were going to a danga root farm.”
“The roots are farmed by the J’olk, Dorsa’s indigenous creatures. They have this prod like noses, with which they can smell the things and then unearth them-”
“Nice,” she interrupted, wrinkling her nose. “And the point is…”
“Well, the J’olk are hardly friendly. Too much digging around, I guess. And they don’t take too kindly giving up their roots. So you see, it’s not just like harvesting sprouts.”
“And just like what is it?”
“Mandral is an intelligent woman, she’s taking advantage of their religion. The creeps give up the roots as offerings, she gives them some living comforts and everybody’s happy.” Javier took in Daell’s expression and he raised his hands. “What!? I'm not saying that it’s all right, just that it’s an intelligent operation – and as I said, everybody’s happy!”
“I can guess who’s happiest…” Daell muttered. She didn’t even know the woman, but this Mandral Ross sounded worse by the minute. "Do you trust her?"
"Not really," the Corellian smiled. "But I don't think she's got anything against me, rather the contrary. And we have the money, right?"
She nodded. “Twenty thousand. I guess we can get a good amount with that, especially if it’s non processed stuff.”
Javier’s head snapped, “non processed? Dammit Daell, you didn’t tell me it was non processed!!”
Daell returned his look in confusion. “Why? What’s the problem? This doctor who’s hiring me needs it to make some kind of antibiotic...”
“Ooo key, change of plans then. No way Mandy’ll give us raw roots… she controls the manufacturing plant, the whole process thing is of her own doing.” He winked at his companion, his good humor returning. “That’s all hush hush, she doesn’t like people to know of her nerdy side.”
“Quite incompatible with a crime lady, I guess.” She said watching him intently. *Mandy?* she asked herself. “I don’t get the problem, anyway.”
“For what I understand, the process to make the drug is quite simple, even if she wants it to sound complex. If raw roots get around, some other guy may figure it out and take a pretty profitable business off her hands. So no raw roots get out. Ever.”
“You seem to know a lot of Mandy’s line of thinking.”
Jav raised one very dark eyebrow. “Jealous, are we?”
“You wish.”
Daell tapped her long blue fingers on her seat’s arm. This would be more difficult than she had thought. Her plan had been just to get the roots, pay for them and get back. The difficult part would have been just to hide them from Vorgrell’s custom officers, or any Imperial inspection they could get in their way there. She raised her eyes to Jav. "So what’s the new plan? We just sneak in, find the plants, and get out?"
"Probably. For the moment we’ll go as if we’re interested in the drug itself. We’ll see as we go. There’s this other guy I know, we go way back. He may be able to help us."
“Ok, and do you trust him” She repeated. It seemed he had many friends.
"Not really,” Javier repeated as well, and his eyes twinkled. “But we have the money…”
Daell didn’t deign to answer this time.
He looked at the navigation screen. “We’re almost there, I’ll take charge, if you want, so you can change into something more… appropriate.” He added, taking an appreciative look at her. She managed to look right even in a military-cut jumpsuit. “Remember we’re going to a nightclub.”
She nodded, even if she looked a bit doubtfull. “You think you can handle her? The controls are modified for just one pilot and-"
“Just go and doll yourself up. I can handle anything that flies.”
Daell frowned, she'd heard that one too many times, but left anyway. No way she’d go to a nightclub in her fatigues. Even less this Mandy's nightclub. Some fifteen minutes later, Daell could feel the ship changing speed and landing. She quickly put a small blaster in its holster inside her thigh and stepped out of her cabin.
Javier was waiting for her, leaning against the corridor wall, his arms crossed. He had changed as well, and looked even darker, if that was possible. When she emerged, he straightened his stance and smiled. He eyed her long bronzed dress and matching head piece for a moment.
"Very nice, Daell. That color really suits you." She just stared at him, and he smiled. "I contacted my friend. He's meeting us at our docking platform."
"That's pretty fast," Daell said doubtfully, finishing to wrap her lekku with bronze strips as they went. "You must think it's going to be that simple."
Javier smiled and waved a hand as he headed to the lowering ramp. "It will be. Trust me."
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
26 Epsilon, 75
19:55
Donica Island, Dorsa
There was a man waiting for them as they left the Siren. With greasy hair and a sloppy smile, Daell immediately decided she didn’t like the guy. As soon as he saw them, the man cried out, "Jav!"
"Bren, so long no see." Javier grinned as they approached, but Daell could swear there was tension in his stance. He gripped the other man’s hand tightly and after a moment he turned and gestured to Daell. "Bren, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Daell, this is Bren Ulic, an old friend."
Bren’s grin grew in his face as he looked at the Twi’lek. "It's a pleasure," he said, shaking her hand. "It’s sure Jav has a talent for picking friends."
Daell smiled tightly, and looked away. They had landed in a far smaller docking platform than the one in Dorsa City, and from what she heard, far lower too. She could listen to the sounds of the jungle, music, and the clatter of something else, something mechanical. It was night too, even if they had left in bright light; she was glad she had dressed up for the task. There was an elevator with the cabin waiting for them. Bren put an arm around Javier and started to lead them towards it; Daell followed a couple of steps behind. "So does the boss know you’re here?"
Javier shrugged casually. "I sent her a message, she was busy at the moment. But she cleared our docking or we wouldn’t be here, would we?"
Bren frowned for a second and then smiled that sloppy smile of his again. It was as if he didn’t know how to really smile, Daell thought. "Well, she’s always have a weakness for you, my friend." He said, giving Javier a knowing look. Daell rolled her eyes.
Jav dismissed his friend’s remark with a wave of his hand. "Bren, this isn’t a social call.” He stopped walking to look into his friend's face. Lowering his voice, he said, "We need some raw Danga.”
The man stared at Javier for a long moment. Daell could see his whole face change in that moment; his happy look was replaced by a far more grim one. "You aren’t serious, are you?"
Javier nodded. "I'm afraid we are. We’re willing to pay you, of course."
Bren suddenly turned towards Daell, his face inquisitive. Daell frowned deeply, but eventually nodded. According to both Javier and Bren’s reaction to the demand of non processed roots, they’d need this man; and if they had to resort to steal the roots, there’ll be enough to pay him. "Of course,” she said, but her voice was icy.
"All right," he said. "I'll get you two in, but you better pay me. If Mandral learns about this-"
Javier held up his hands. "Don't worry. It'll all work out. And you'll get your money."
"It’s a deal then," Bren said. "The boss’ having a big party for some new dealers.” He looked up and down at Daell’s rich dress and nodded. “But I guess you already knew about it. Ok, lets go over to the club then." He started walking, but when they didn’t follow he turned and raised his hands. “Just get down when you’re ready, I’ll have the speeder ready at the bottom.” And with that he entered the elevator and disappeared.
Javier turned to Daell and held a hand to her, but she stood where she was, staring at the elevator. "There's something about him I don't like," she said finally.
"What?" The Corellian asked. "He's harmless."
"Don't you think he agreed a little quickly?” Daell faced him. “He looked scared enough of your Mandy, and then… Crime lords – er, ladies – are all alike, and they don’t have time for traitors.”
Javier shook his head. "He's a friend, and there’s money for him. Forget about it. You worry too much."
Daell didn't even bother to respond, but she made a point to keep an eye on Bren Ulic.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
The city at Donica Island buzzed with activity. Below the docking platforms there was an effervescent neighbourhood, not very different from every other starport neighbourhood in the galaxy, just much smaller, from what Daell could see from the speeder. Her eyes darted around, taking in as much as she could, as her companions talked about the past, but the trip was short. Mandral Ross’ nightclub was just some streets away.
She recognised the place easily enough, it was difficult to miss. All bright lights and activity, the club was packed with all kind of creatures. Bren led them quickly besides the line of people waiting to enter, and she smiled at the outraged cries of some of the neglected customers. Seemingly the place was popular.
The crowd was even thicker inside the club, music and flashing lights dazzling them. There was little room left, but Bren dove into the crowd with ease. Daell moved unconsciously to the music while she followed the other two into the club.
Javier suddenly reached back, seizing Daell’s hand as the crowd threatened to separate them. "Wouldn't want to lose you," he said over the deafening music.
Daell frowned, but didn't pull away. "Don't worry," she replied. "I'm used to these joints." Jav just smiled and moved her in front of him, leading the way with his hand on her hip.
Javier’s friend led them up a curving stair onto a balcony overlooking the crowd, there were guards on top the stairs, but they didn’t stop their advance. The music was quieter up there, and well-placed lights bathed the balcony with an intimate glow. Daell took a second to look around. In a circular set of red leather seats overlooking the club, there was a beautiful woman in white. *Good effect,* Daell approved, *white on red, she surely knows how to stand out.* She was surrounded by a couple of humans and three aliens – all males – hanging to every word she said, or so it seemed.
Mandral Ross stopped talking when they came to stand in front of them, and her beautiful face lit with a seductive smile. Rising graciously from her seat, she opened her arms to Javier. “Jav!” she exclaimed, hugging the man. “It’s been too long, you bad man. I’ve missed you.”
“Mandral, you beautiful thing, I’ve missed you too,” he answered hugging her back a little too tightly, to Daell’s opinion.
From her position behind the couple, the Twi'lek studied the crime lady. She was certainly beautiful, with golden hair piled high in an intricate coronet of braids. There were little crystals – or diamonds – braided into her hair, that glittered when she moved. The stunning white dress left little to imagination, and showed a perfect body. Daell decided that she didn’t like Ms. Ross.
“Oh Jav,” purred Mandral, winking suggestively as she untangled herself from his embrace and retreated to the comfort of her seat, reclining seductively against the soft red leather. “You know flattery will get you everywhere.”
She lifted her drink to her lips, taking a mouthful and swallowing slowly. “I’d ask what I could do for you,” she grinned, the tip of her tongue flicking across her full lips, chasing the last drops of alcohol. “But I fear the answer would be too X-rated for our dear friends to hear.”
Daell coughed behind Javier’s back. The woman had not spared a look at her, obviously on purpose. The man turned quickly, and swallowed, giving her what could be understood as an apologetic look. He extended his hand and motioned her to advance. “Mandral, this is-“
“Odell ‘Cela, Ms. Ross,” Daell interrupted, cursing herself for not having planned this beforehand. She just hoped Javier wouldn’t betray her in his surprise. “Pleased to meet you.”
Mandral’s smile twisted slightly, her eyes fluttering in Javier’s direction and then her smile widened. “Likewise, I’m sure Odell, and call me Mandral – we have no need for formalities here. Right Jav, hon?”
With a wave of her hand, Mandral signalled for her companions to move, clearing room for the smuggler and his Twi’lek friend. “Why don’t you come sit next to me, hmmm? We can get some drinks and make ourselves more… comfortable while we talk.”
After Javier took the place she had indicated, Daell sat besides him. She leant back and crossed her legs, nothing in her stance betrayed her discomfort. She accepted a drink from a droid, but didn’t drink. Instead, she just looked at her friend. Javier nodded.
"Mandral, I'm helping my friend here, Odell is interested in purchasing a large quantity of your products."
“Always straight down to business,” smiled Mandral, “just how I remember you.” She turned on her seat to face her entourage. “Time for you boys to take a break I think, but keep your asses handy, I’ll call when I need you.”
With a sigh, Mandral turned back to face her guests. “So, talk. What exactly is it you want and…” she leaned forward across the table and at the same time wrapped an arm casually around Jav’s shoulders. “…what are you going to give me in return?”
“Fifteen thousand,” Daell replied, a little too quickly. She fought an irrational urge to wrap her own arm around Javier and scolded herself for it. She didn’t want to begrudge the woman… or give him that satisfaction. “In danga roots.”
“Fifteen thousand?” Mandral sighed and leaned back into her seat again, slowly crossing her long bare legs. “Well, you must have a pretty sweet deal lined up to need such an amount. Mind if I ask who your client is?”
“My client prefers to remain anonymous,” Daell answered with the truth, for once; Dr. Cle’var had been adamant about that. “I hope that doesn’t affect our business. I’ve got the money and you the product. It as simple as that.”
From his position between the two women, Javier watched the exchange with a half smile on his face. There was a quite clear wall of animosity between them, and he was starting to enjoy the show. He leant back and extended an arm to each side over the seats, and the women's, back. Daell noticed and moved her tchin slightly away from him, but didn’t lose eye contact with the crime lady.
“Hmmm, well that depends darling,” purred Mandral, leaning back into Javier’s arm and smiling. “My own clients won’t be too pleased if I start supplying one of their competitors now would they? It’s a little thing called supply and demand, you may not have heard of it. Basically, I control the supply and that drives up the demand, which means higher profits for yours truly.”
“My client doesn’t want to commercialise the product, it’s for his personal use.” Daell set her untouched glass on the table, and rose to her feet. “You’re correct, supply and demand laws move the galaxy. I’ve made my offer, Ms. Ross, now I want to dance some. Jav…?”
“You came a long way to tango, hon,” hissed Mandral through gritted teeth, plastering her wide smile back in place as the Twi’lek turned to face her again. “And unless you client is a major giggle duster you’d better stop messing me around and cut to the chase.”
When both of her guests remained silent, Mandral sat up straight, her eyes taking on a dark, serious glimmer. “I don’t know you Odell, but I know Jav here. I know Jav here really well. He’s clued up enough to know that if you wanted danga roots you could go to any of the regular dealers with less trouble – and probably get it cheaper too. And since Jav here knows me, he should realise that I’m no push over. I can tell when I’m being fed a line. You two have some deal going down and I want to know what it is.”
Daell’s lekku twitched in tension as she watched the woman. Finally she spoke. “My client’s demands were simple, Ms. Ross. And quite straightforward. Get the best danga and keep quiet about me. However, I'm sure that if he were to choose, he’d prefer a less refined product.” She wasn’t bluffing now, and she hoped it showed.
Mandral leaned back into her seat again, folding her arms across her lap. “Less refined eh?” she mused quietly, slowly assessing the bold Twi’lek who was obviously more than a mere concubine or exotic dancer like the majority of her species.
“What have you been filling this girl’s head with Javier?” said Mandral, her usual smile failing to disguise the fact that the tone of her voice had turned decidedly serious. “You know I never sell unprocessed danga root, it just isn’t good business.”
Javier cursed inwardly, and sent Daell a killer look. “I think she meant she’d go for a lower quality product before revealing her client’s name, Mandy. Hey! Don’t look at me, I don’t know who the guy is!”
“Sure you don’t,” snapped Mandral curtly before returning her focus to the Twi’lek. She could tell something was going on, that these two were trying to pull a fast one on her – which usually meant that there was a substantial profit to be made.
“As you are probably already aware I don’t deal in substandard produce, if you want that you should check out one of the suppliers after they’ve taken a cut. I deal in 100% pure danga root, nothing less than the best. It’s what my clients expect. Perhaps, if I was duly compensated…” she ran a hand up Javier’s leg, her fingers dancing across his inner thigh mischievously. She smiled.
“…I could offer you something… special, something with a real sting in its tail. A danga and barus root cocktail guaranteed to give you the best trip of your life. Maybe your client would be interested in that?”
Daell shook her head, and tried a smile, but it was difficult with the damn woman’s slightly fluorescent painted nails leaving a trailing on Javier’s black pants. “Just danga,” she said tersely.
“Mandy, dear…” Javier turned to look at Mandral, searching her hard brown eyes with his. The conversation was going nowhere and if he knew the woman at all, and he did, Daell was trailing on unsteady ground. He took her hand in his, the rich perfume she was wearing engulfing him as he leant to her.
“Is it that important? She’s heading way off this system, and neither you, or your clients, will ever hear of her again. Besides, she’s telling the truth. It’s not to commercialise.”
A seductive smile curled Mandral’s lips and she curled her own fingers around Javier’s and held him tight. “My darling Jav, if it’s not to commercialise and your client is so far away, then why are you so reluctant to tell me what you do want the danga for?”
She shuffled closer to the smuggler and leaned forward, pressing her ample bosom against him. “I’m no fool darling, and if you want me to play nicely you should at least have the courtesy of explaining the rules.”
“There are no rules. My client wants the best danga available and his name not revealed.” Daell repeated, as if talking to a child. She was barely containing her anger as she watched the woman. She was almost lying over Javier, for love’s sake! “Javier brought me here because your product is the best, but if I have to settle for lower quality- and I mean a substandard cut, I will.”
“Now I think I will dance.” She was tired of games, if she had to leave Dorsa without the roots, so be it. She’d had worse deals before.
Daell took off the bronze silk bolero she was wearing and let it fall at Javier’s lap. She was amused when he quickly let go of Mandy’s hand to prevent the sleeky thing slip to the floor, and enjoyed the flashing of his dark eyes. She knew she was up to any woman in her dress, even to stunning Mandral Ross.
“I’ll be back for your answer, Ms. Ross,” she added, before turning around and heading towards the stairs and the disco beneath.
Introducing Kim Cattrall as Mandral Ross
---
Special Thanks to Louisa for writing Mandral Ross.
Zara's Having a Ball! (Finally) Part One
05 Zeta 75
Orsiri Palace, Plateau City
Evening
With a soft whirr and a light cloud of dust, the repulsorlift came to a juddering halt just outside the gates of Orsiri Castle. Lianna lifted her head and looked about. Already a steady procession of well-dressed bodies were making their way into the palace - all extravagant ball gowns, colourful plumage and expensively tailored suits.
Closing her eyes momentarily, she steadied her breathing. She could scarcely believe what she was about to do, but it wasn’t the prospect of infiltrating a heavily guarded palace that filled her stomach with a light fluttering, it was the fact that, for the first time in her career she had a partner in tow.
Cael stepped out of the landspeeder, turning back to offer his hand to Lianna. He smiled as she took hold and allowed him to help her down – playing the part of noble Countess for all it was worth. She looked amazing too, clad in a floor-length black and silver gown that seemed to accentuate her every curve to perfection. Nobody would think twice about where they were headed, but to make the illusion complete Cael handed Lianna a plain black mask that matched his own and they fitted them in place.
They joined the queue at the gate and waited patiently until they came level with the guard on door security. True to his word, Garim Moriss had got them access to the guest entry passes that afternoon, Cael just hoped that the copies worked after all the trouble they’d gone through. Thrusting his invitation into the guard’s hands, Cael masked his nervousness behind a show of irritation as the guard fumbled in processing his identification through the system.
“Come on, hurry it up will you?” he huffed in annoyance, doing his best to imitate the level of rudeness that seemed almost a character trait of the aristocracy. Lianna stifled a little giggle behind her hand, making a pretence of fluttering her long eyelashes as she looked up at the guard with the kind of disarming innocence she remembered seeing in the young Miss Odari-Mosora.
“It’s so cold out here,” she whined girlishly, pouting and looking down at her outfit. While she wasn’t dressed extremely provocative there was enough bare skin on show to grab anyone’s interest. “I should have worn my cape, I just know I’ll catch a chill if we don’t get inside soon.”
The guard’s eyes briefly lingered on Lianna’s figure before clearing his throat with a nervous cough and waving them inside.
Cael took Lianna’s arm, linking it through his own and smiled as they walked the long length of the main corridor, heading towards the ballroom.
“Nice touch there with the guard,” he grinned, “I’ll have to remember that next time I-”
“Whatever you’re going to say,” interrupted Lianna, a light smile curling her lips, “I’d advise you to rethink and remember that I could break your neck before you draw your next breath.”
“Quite right,” Cael agreed, “consider me forever silenced on the matter. Just don’t forget Li,” he grinned again, that boyish lopsided grin that was starting to make Lianna’s blood heat whenever he did it. “I’m the dominant male and while in polite society you must take your lead from me, we wouldn’t want to blow our cover.”
Lianna smirked. “Just watch it Draxel.”
Falling silent, they followed the growing crowds in entering the ballroom, walking beneath a gauze of flickering glowlamps that decorated the impressive archway. Inside there were more glowlamps, reflecting their golden hue off every available surface so that the room seemed to gleam like the inside of a treasure-trove. Circling the room above was the upper corridor, a wide platform that overlooked the dance floor below and afforded excellent views of virtually all entrances into the room. That space was already crowded with Vorgrell’s finest - Lords and Ladies in powdered wigs and flamboyant dress, not to mention the ever present Imperial officers.
Up high, in another dimly lit alcove, was the small, yet comprehensive orchestra that had already begun to play a gentle, slow melody – just easing the guests into the party mood.
From behind her mask Lianna took in everything that she could without appearing too obvious. Already she was mapping the exits and the location of the guards, even spotting Captain Garim Moriss as he stood at the opposite end of the room. Obviously and not surprisingly, the Bertrayn’s must also be at this little soiree too.
“Your Grace,” she said to Cael, bowing her head in a small gesture of a curtsey. “If you do not object, I think I shall find myself some refreshment.”
Cael nodded, catching her meaning: she wanted to check the place out, to find the best escape route if it should become necessary to make a swift exit. “Of course, my Lady. Come find me afterwards.” He made a show of kissing the back of her hand, feeling more than a little silly when doing so, but at the same time enjoying the play ritual. His eyes lingered on Lianna as she made her way through the crowds, a warm feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, then, turning away, he slipped into the melee and began to mingle.
******
“Let the fun begin.”
Zara smirked to herself as she surveyed the arrival of her guests with a satisfied air of superiority – her features ably disguised behind an elaborate sapphire peko-peko mask.
She rubbed her gloved hands together thoughtfully. If all went according to plan tonight, then she would finally have the heir to the fallen house of Archell exactly where she wanted him. And that was her plan, regardless of the delusions of her guests whom believed this entire charade to be for the benefit of the Empire’s newest attack dog, Zod Severus. A masquerade ball would offer the perfect opportunity to draw Corin out into the open, one that he surely couldn’t refuse.
“My dear Duke,” Zara murmured quietly to herself as she continued to peruse the arrival of her guests. "You should never have returned to Vorgrell, but I will delight in making your last moments as agonising and torturous as possible.”
“Your Highness,” said Lady Arella as she glided noiselessly to the princess’ side, standing behind her in the shadows. “All your instructions have been carried out, everything is in place. How can you be sure that he’ll show up?”
“Corin Archell?” Zara smiled slyly. “Because he’s a noble and he’s arrogant. Even if he suspects a trap it still won’t prevent him from coming, he has too high an opinion of himself and he underestimates me. It’s his ultimate downfall.”
Arella bowed her head to one side in assent, her eyes roaming the exquisitely decorated ballroom that was rapidly filling with guests. “Looks like your little protégé is causing quite a stir,” smiled Arella, nodding in the direction of the young noblegirl Arica Odari-Mosora.
“Ah, yes,” smirked Zara, biting her lower lip thoughtfully. A crowd of handsome men surrounded the girl who blushed furiously and kept her eyes lowered even when someone addressed her. Even so they were enraptured with her, a fact that Zara took as a personal compliment to her own fine taste. When had anyone ever paid the girl any attention at her other parties? Oh no, this was all her own doing, there was no mistake about that.
Zara pitied the girl; she was so naïve she thought every one to be as good and virtuous as herself. It would be a life lesson, Zara philosophised smugly. Using her to bring down the House of Bertrayn would teach her that the real world was a harsh and cut-throat place. In all honesty, she would be doing the girl a favour.
“Keep an eye on her,” Zara instructed her handmaiden as she turned, heading in the direction of a group of Imperial Officers. She was the hostess after all, and even if she despised the Empire she still had to play the part of their willing and loyal collaborator. “I think Miss Odari-Mosora could be in for quite an interesting night.”
******
Corin surveyed the room from the balcony overhead. Gaining entry to Zara’s ball had been easy once he’d incapacitated one of the other guests, stealing their pass-card invitation and costume in the process. Poor Prince Gallard, he would be spending the evening bound and gagged in one of Orsiri Palace’s many storage rooms until some cleaning droid eventually discovered him in the early hours of the morning.
Looking down at the assembled guests, Corin’s eyes fixed on the Princess and her handmaiden, his face hardening behind his full mask. He had come so close last time, so close to ending her wretched existence and finally achieving revenge for his family and friends. His failure still rankled, only made bearable because he now knew the truth about Zayen. He might be imprisoned but he was still alive, and with the information he’d managed to lift from the Inquisitor’s ship he was finally in a position to do something about the former.
That at least had made his failure worthwhile.
Corin’s grip on the railing tightened as he watched Zara move about her guests, her gracious smiles hiding her true, malignant nature. How he would love to squeeze his hands about her treacherous throat, to throttle the very life out of her. Considering what she’d done to them all, it was the least she deserved.
But no. This was not the time or the place. Though Corin was not best known for his self-discipline even he could see that any assassination attempt tonight would fail, the security measures had been increased threefold not including the extra measures that the various other houses had also seen fit to implement. Besides, he wasn’t so stupid as to underestimate Zara a second time, he had done that once and both Myklos and Zayen had paid the price.
Corin sighed. He’d waited so long; he could wait a little longer and in the meanwhile he planned to take full opportunity of such an event. With so many guests he would be able to move about easily and survey the new security measures. It wasn’t revenge, but it was a step in the right direction.
He drank down his glass of bubblezap and lay the empty vessel on the balustrade before vanishing into the crowds.
******
Garim Moriss coolly regarded the assembled revellers from the perimeter of the room. Amongst Zara’s guests he could make out several familiar faces even when disguised behind their ornate masks. The dukes and lords of neighbouring systems had been orbiting Vorgrell for the past two days – as always Princess Orsiri’s soiree’s were the talk of the galaxy – well the outer rim at any rate. Rubbing shoulders with the nobles were those generals and commanders of the galactic Empire stationed on Vorgrell, including the imposing figure of Zod Severus – looking about as comfortable in the opulent surroundings of Orsiri Palace as he might onboard the deck of a Starcruiser in mid-battle.
Across the room sat Arica, surrounded by a crowd of young men all vying for her attention and hanging on her every word. If it had been Zara’s intention to secure a suitor for the young girl by dressing her so provocatively, then she must be assured success. Bound up in that snug-fitting sheath of scarlet silk, Arica looked both beautiful and alluring, and yet at the same time shy and reticent – it was a potent combination.
Even so, it made Garim feel physically sick as the crowd of potential beau’s fawned over her, fetching her glasses of punch and plates of assorted delicacies. Not one of them had ever paid Arica an ounce of attention at any of Zara’s other parties, in fact they usually went out of their way to avoid her – the quiet, bookish girl who liked to sit on her own and read. But tonight, just because of the way she looked in that creation of Zara’s – all bare flesh and painfully accentuated curves. All because of a few meters of nicely arranged cloth they decided to bestow their attention upon her. Arica for her part seemed reluctant and uncomfortable but nevertheless she laughed shyly at their jokes and smiled demurely, though never imparting her affections to any one more than the rest.
Despite her reluctance, Garim felt the muscles in his body stiffen as Arica rose to her feet, her hand safely encased within that of a young male in a white Edan Tiger mask. Together they walked to the dance floor where the other couples were gathered, already engaged in a lively jig. Garim watched as the man placed his hand upon her waist and drew her in closer so that their bodies were almost touching. Again Garim felt his heart burn with jealousy and a deep, bitter pain rise from the pit of his stomach. This was her world, a world of masquerade balls and elaborate dances, of costumes and expensive clothing, of custom and courting. A world to which he was forever excluded by the misfortune of his birth.
With a controlled sigh, Garim turned away, his eyes surveying the growing crowds of lords and ladies.
Above the ballroom, looking down from the upper corridor stood Oldrak and the Seventh Duchess of Cambrielle, her Ladyship Safita Kizor. The Duchess preened the elaborate white curls of her wig as they talked; her own hair having long since thinned into a fluffy mess that barely covered her withered scalp.
“They simply have no sense of propriety,” she sniffed, her tight, snooty voice rasping on the ends of her words. “It’s the main reason why the entire race should be exterminated, or at the very least ushered into a less visible form of servitude. To think that Zara has one of those Twi’lek whores lined up as entertainment tonight… it simply isn’t right, Oldrak, it really isn’t.”
“Calm yourself Safi,” chuckled Oldrak, sipping his Corellian Brandy. “Twi’lek’s have their place, just like the others, it’s when they try to ascend to our ranks that one must see fit to take action. Like our Imperial friends… say what you like about their methods, at least they get the job done.”
“Hmmm, like Lord Segov over there,” smirked the Duchess, flicking her head in the direction of Arica. “You’re right about her, Oldrak,” she crooned as the two of them watched the young girl dance with the son of Daror Varize. “She’s perfectly sweet and, if I’m not mistaken, ripe for the… plucking.” Safita cackled suggestively, sliding her spectacles back up her nose. “But if you have any sense you’ll forget about waiting and do it soon.”
Oldrak drained his brandy dry and took another puff from his cigar, his eyes lazily following Arica as she danced. “What do you mean?”
“She’s in bloom,” said the Duchess flatly, “tonight she is in full bloom and every man in this room can sense it. If I were you, darling Oldrak, I’d lay claim to your prize and take that flower sooner rather than later – before someone else beats you to it. Like young Lord Varize there…”
For a moment and with the kind of irrational jealousy that only a spurned lover might feel, Oldrak scowled and turned his focus to Segov. He quietly observed the manner in which he held his niece, his hand upon her waist, the proximity of their bodies – only just touching as they danced.
“How is dear Irina these days anyway?” asked the Duchess with a sly grin, “still stubbornly refusing to shuffle off this mortal coil?”
Oldrak smirked, partly hiding his amusement by taking another puff on his cigar. “Irina… Irina has always been a devoted wife and she continues to be so whether it is to my choosing or not.”
“How patient of you not to have resorted to more direct methods,” grinned Safita, sliding her arm through Oldrak’s. She of course knew of the deal between her friend and Morden Odari-Mosora and approved entirely. Oldrak needed an heir… but more than that he needed a young, pliable girl like Arica, someone he could mould into the perfect wife, someone who would never defy or question him. Safita had liked Irina but she had always been overly opinionated.
“There’s still time, my dear Safi,” said Oldrak as he stubbed out the remainder of his cigar.
The Duchess smiled and gave him a quick squeeze about the arm. “Just remember, if you want to claim her virginity for your own you might want to do it sooner rather than later.” She turned to Oldrak, her smile widening. “Irina never needs to know…”
From a far corner, near the corridor leading to the kitchens, Daell watched as well. As usual she had been hired to give a performance tonight, and as usual she had been allowed to roam the palace almost at will. It had its uses to be friendly to the guards and crew.
Daell moved forward into the ballroom with a light step on her bare feet, her purple eyes scanning the crowd from behind her full mask, beautifully made with red feathers and clear crystals. She was covered from head to toe with a wine red velvet cape, its hood hiding her lekku and its ample folds concealing her dancer’s attire. That way she could mingle with the guests a little, at least for a while.
The Princess looked radiant, as always, clad in a shimmering lavender blue dress, lavishly embroidered with silver thread and jewels. It complemented beautifully the intricate mask she was wearing and the gorgeous fan hanging from her wrist. She was receiving her guests, all false greetings and deceiving smiles – the bitch. Lady Arella stood a couple of steps behind her, the customary spot for the watch dog, her only concession to the night’s masquerade a black satin half-mask.
Daell walked carelessly along the upper corridor, heading towards the staircase that would lead her down and in the direction of the balconies overlooking the gardens, catching bits of conversations here and there. The word ‘Twi’lek’ reached her ears and she smiled at the outraged tone of the old crow speaking.
*Baron Bertrayn, how do you do?* she greeted in her mind as she delayed for a second near them, trying to catch what the fuss was about. She frowned at their following words, seemingly the Baron was about to get a new mistress. Well, why should it surprise her? Those noble types were always looking for a new thrill or other. She thought about who the unfortunate girl could be, although, stealing a glance at the man’s handsome face, only partially obscured by a simple silver half-mask, she wondered.
Shaking those thoughts away, Daell descended the stairs and moved forward until she reached the wall. There she stood near a marble column, discreetly glancing at the dancers. There was a lot to watch.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Lianna’s ploy had been to scout the room while pretending to seek out refreshments. So she was more than a little put out to immediately run into a waiter carrying around a tray of drinks. Deftly picking up a glass she began to make her way to the upper level, hoping to gain a better vantage point from which to view the crowds and party arrangements.
Up on the balcony, her eyes surveyed the collected groups, catching sight of none other than Baron Oldrak Bertrayn himself. Lianna recognised him immediately from the HoloNews reports, not to mention the fact that he had interests in practically all of Vorgrell’s seafaring industries, making him a very powerful man indeed. Circling around the quinquagenarian, she was able to take a better look at him and his female companion, and suddenly a bold plan started to form itself.
*Why not?* thought Lianna, as she studied the outlook where Baron Bertrayn stood. She would have to be careful when approaching him, but it would offer a fine position from which to observe – and if she managed to ingratiate herself to another of the Nobles, even in disguise, so much the better.
Putting on one of her more charming smiles, Lianna slowly stepped forward, taking a small sip of her drink at the same time. Her eyes scanned the crowds and she faltered, missing a step as she recognised the familiar appearance of Captain Moriss ascending the staircase.
*Of course he would be here* she thought, maintaining her cold and distant expression even as he passed near. She couldn’t do anything that might blow her cover.
Garim held himself in check as he caught Lianna’s gaze. Though he knew her to be in the palace, he hadn’t expected her to actually join the party. As the woman strode past him, he took a step back, pretending that he didn’t know her, his eye casually watching as she approached Baron Oldrak and the Duchess.
Though she did not enjoy doing so, Lianna moved past the Captain with ease. Only after did she feel her heart rate return to normal as she realised he wasn’t going to give her away.
“Oh, you must be Baron Bertayn,” Lianna said as she met the pair, extending her hand gracefully. “Please, permit me to introduce myself: Countess Salina from Onderon. It is such an honour to meet you."
The Duchess reared her face in the direction of the young woman, an impudent pup to so boldly introduce herself in such a manner. She replaced her miniature spectacles on her nose and peered at her. Before she could say a word though, Oldrak had already taken the woman’s hand, raising it to his lips and planting a light kiss against her glove.
“Charmed, my dear,” he crooned. As he straightened he let his eye take in the sight of this young creature. “Allow me to introduce the seventh Duchess of Cambrielle, her Ladyship Safita Kizor.”
Lianna attempted to recall anything that she could about the Duchess, and found her knowledge sorely lacking; though she made a note to dig for anything later. Anyone connected to the Council could be of potential interest. “A pleasure,” she returned, moving her eyes as best she could to try to see the floor below.
The disproving glare of the Duchess told her that she needed to show herself not to be a threat, and probably couldn't stay there too long. If she had any dealings on Onderon, her cover could be most readily compromised. She forced a little giggle before continuing.
“My lord, it's true what I've heard, about how handsome you are. I just thought it best that I should say so in person,” then put on the graces of looking embarrassed by the sudden realisation that she was babbling. It gave her the excuse to turn away, affording her a better view of where the guards were stationed.
“And you are beguiling my dear, simply beguiling,” grinned Oldrak, his fingers closing around the woman’s gloved hand. He noted her blushes and the demure turn of her head and felt a flush of heat run through him. “I have never been fortunate to visit Onderon, but if it is home to such charming specimens of womanhood as yourself I see that I shall have to remedy such an oversight.”
Safita avoided rolling her eyes but it was difficult. Was there no pretty young thing that did not ignite the Baron’s constant lust? Gazing out at the dancers, her attention fell upon his equally pretty young niece and a smirk spread across her face. There was a girl who would get a shock come her wedding night and no mistake. If the Baron waited that long…
Turning back to the pup she managed to turn her smirk into a sneer, levelling her gaze at the apparent ingénue. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of you before, Countess, and my father had many business interests in that lowly sector. I spent many a happy summer at Onderon.”
She gave the girl a studious appraisal, “you are no doubt from new money, I take it?”
Lianna forced herself to relax, noticing the slight stiffening in her back. Onderon was an Outer Rim world, and the Duchess could be lying as easily as she was. If she was telling the truth, and her father did have interests there, it should help her some. In politics on Onderon, credibility was everything. “Very new,” she replied, giving a small smile to the Baron.
“My husband did some service or other for Duke Vandross, and was rewarded with a title,” she quickly improvised. The Duke was known for nothing if not his dislike of foreigners, making it unlikely anyone had dealings with him.
Oldrak loosened his hold on the woman’s hand, eventually letting it fall from his grasp. “Is your husband here with you tonight?”
She nodded once, making a sad look come across her face, before taking a glance to find where Cael was. He was in conversation with a Twi'Lek, which gave her an idea. “He's always off chatting with the aliens now. It's terrible having to compete with them.” And that, she thought inwardly, should do it as she finished looking over the arrangements. Now if only she could find a way to extricate herself from the conversation.
“You poor child,” soothed Oldrak, his eyes wandering in the direction Countess Selina had been pondering and falling upon a young man engaged in conversation with a Twi’lek woman. “Your husband is a fool,” he said gently, taking her hand again and laying another kiss upon her glove. “He has a woman ten times the worth of any Twi’lek whore.”
“You are too kind, Baron,” she returned, mentally running over the list again of doors and guards. She wondered at the layout, leaving several very tempting gaps. Could Zara have been so careless after the last attempt on her life? A sudden thought occurred to her that maybe there was a reason the security arrangements had been leaked.
*A friend of mine mentioned it.* What if something more was going on here?
Lianna brought her hand up to her face to hide the shock, forcing herself to look more pained. “I... I'm sorry... my lord, my lady...” she stammered out, feigning injury. She needed to reach Cael!
“My dear,” urged the Baron softly, his hold on the Countess’s hand tightening as she attempted to depart. “Have we said something to upset you? Is something the matter child? Tell us, what is wrong?”
She wanted to silently curse herself for the momentary lapse. Now that she had to cover for it, things would be that much more difficult. Even worse, she had found the one caring noble in existence. Now she had to come up with a plausible tale, and extricate herself! It was going to be a long evening.
“Oh no, not you,” she choked back a sob. “You've been too kind to me, my lord. He does spend a lot of time with them, though.” With luck, Lianna hoped, they would prove one of the more racist of the nobility, be disgusted with her for having such a husband, and try to get her out of their sight.
“A wife should not be held responsible for the misadventures of her husband,” said Oldrak kindly, “you must not blame yourself.” He patted her hand. “So long as you remain virtuous and good you can keep your head held high and I’m sure that in time, your husband will tire of his distractions and realise what a treasure he is truly blessed with.”
Lianna nodded silently, waiting for a moment as her mind thought. An idea occurred to her all of the sudden, to turn this to her advantage. “I thank you,” she said, giving a slight bow. “My lord, if you do not object, I think I should speak with him about this.” Baron Oldrak gave a slightly inclination of his head, and she began to hurry off, though not before noticing the Duchesses' suspicious look.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Cael began to dislike the various guests greatly, now secretly glad for his chosen profession to support himself. More than once, he regretted Lianna going off to get a look at the party. Having her by his side would have made it much easier to talk to the other nobles, since if something went wrong, he could at least have someone else to help improvise. And more, to avoid contradicting each other. It wouldn't do them any good if their cover was blown...
“So sorry,” he said, realising that he had just bumped into another guest – literally – while lost in thought, putting on a fake accent which sounded slightly off. 'Corrupted Core World' is what he could describe it as. “I didn't mean to do that.”
“Don't worry about it,” the guest replied, with a nod to him. “With the guest list, I suspect if we all worried about bumping in to people, we shall spend the evening doing nothing but apologising to each other.” Cael gave a polite chuckle at that, as he was waved away.
Daell’s lekku tensed as she heard the man. Turning in her spot, she watched intently at the nobleman who had just spoken as he walked away from her. He looked just normal, at least from the back, his short dark blonde hair half covered by the back of his mask, his attire a classical costume, even if less decorated than most of the rest’s, it didn’t stand out from the crowd. And yet something about him looked familiar.
*Don’t be silly, you’ve been to enough of Zara’s parties to be familiar with most of these creeps, she said to herself, but her feet had unconsciously started to move behind the man. Her curiosity was too strong.
It wasn’t long till she found herself close enough to the man again to listen to him, she hurried her pace and passed next to him, bumping him in the way and spilling some of her drink on his clothes. She turned around and smiled nervously at him beneath her red feather mask, “I'm so sorry, Sir!!”
Instinctively, Cael jumped back as the woman's drink spilled over him. Her cape and mask almost completely covered her, letting her conceal her identity most effectively. There was something about the cadence of her speech that seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. “It's quite all right,” he said to her. “Here, let me get you another one....” he trailed off, looking for someone carrying around drinks.
“If you could get me a sweet Cabocla I’d appreciate it...” she said, watching intently for his reaction. The way he moved, and that accent… it was that fake accent that had given him away, but she needed to be sure.
For a moment, Cael was taken back. Sweet Cabocla? Wasn't that... the voice started to click. Daell? No, it couldn't be, he thought. That was just his mind playing tricks on him, trying to keep him from worrying too much, to find a friendly face. “Very well, I'll see if someone has them around here. If I might, by any chance, know who I have the pleasure of addressing? I am Count Carmine Dross of Onderon.”
Daell grinned. It was him, no doubt. His momentarily silence at the mention of her favourite drink had given him away. And knowing who he was, she wondered how it had taken her so long to convince herself. She knew him too well. Daell feigned to trip and took his arm to steady herself, once closer, she spoke. “Do they really fall for that fake accent of yours, Cael?”
Taken back momentarilty again, he looked at the masked figure again and thought. While he remembered to drop the voice, he did forget to keep the accent. “Daell?” The surprise could not be kept out of it, though he recovered shortly. This was too much. “You would be surprised,” it returned, “at how few people here have been to Onderon.”
“Onderon, huh? Why am I not surprised…” she grinned behind her mask. Onderon was one of the first systems attacked during the Mandelorian wars, a fact she had picked from Cael’s evergoing talking about those times. “You know, actually I have been to Onderon, and they don’t talk like that. But what are you doing here, Cael?” She asked, looking around. She had been moving towards a clearer spot, so their conversation wouldn’t be eavesdropped.
Cael felt slightly hurt at that – it had, after all, been Lianna who developed the cover and infiltration plan. Still, he could tell that she was trying to move him somewhere that they wouldn't be overheard, and wanted to ask her the exact same question that she had. Although he could guess that it would probably have something to do with Corrin. “A simple slicing job,” he told her softly, when he was sure nobody could hear. “Mainframe.”
Daell arched an eyebrow. “Not so simple if you got this far, I'm sure I don’t need to tell you how difficult it is to get into these parties.”
Cael shrugged. Getting in had been the hard part, but he could hardly tell her the half of it, and most certainly not where they were at present. Too many people could overhear, and he didn't want to risk getting caught, or Garim in trouble. “Just trust me,” he finally said softly. “If we pull this off, we might learn some surprising things. I can't say any more than that, though.”
Daell looked at him for a second; she knew Cael. He wasn’t the kind to take thoughtless risks, if he was at the palace he must have good reasons, and to ask for her trust… “You know I do,” she answered at last. “Maybe I could help you too. I'm familiar with this place… Don’t ask.” She took her drink to her lips and he could see her wink behind the mask. “Just trust me.
Cael nodded, trying to decide how much to tell her. Too much detail, and they risked being overheard... too little, and she couldn't do anything at all. Deftly picking up two drinks from a passing tray, he leaned closer as though in intimate conversation. “The nobility have a very secure setup, but it's not without weaknesses,” he said quietly. “Try to hack from the outside, odds are, the connection gets cut. But from the main terminal of the House computer system, you just have the central security to break through.”
*The main terminal?* Daell knew the place, at least from the blueprints she had memorized with Corin. She had never been anywhere close, anyway. A big chamber in the center of the middle levels of the palace. It was heavily guarded, although with the ball going on, security could have lessened a little. Unless…
She took the drink he offered, and leaned forward too, giggling as if from a joke, but her mind was racing. “There is a whole ventilation system running through the palace, Cael. And even computer rooms need fresh air. You may get your fancy costume dusty, though.”
Cael tapped the breast of his jacket lightly, making a small thud sound. Daell would, hopefully, notice the slight giveaway of a light blastvest. “Lianna insisted,” he told her, thinking of the best way to get there. This was supposed to be her thing, not his. Better to break in from afar. “All we have to do is slip out of here. We can handle the rest from there.”
“I can lead you to a spot where you could access the ventilation system and not be too far away from the chamber, and give you directions too.” She was already thinking of the path he should follow. “I guess there will be some kind of alarm system in those ducts, but that won't be a problem for you.”
Smiling, Cael impulsively leaned forward and gave Daell a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks,” he said, finally feeling less apprehensive. Maybe this crazy plan of Lianna's would actually work!
Daell’s mouth curved in a big smile too. She pressed his hand, “you know I love you, don’t you? Just take care.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
“…And then there’s the summer palace in Corona, which of course I’ll inherit from my father in the fullness of time, the locale is sublime and thanks to rising property prices in the area, the value has more than doubled in the last five years…”
Arica smiled and nodded while inwardly she struggled to stifle a yawn as she continued to dance with the young, yet clearly dull Lord Segov Varize. Though their brief time together had almost bored her to tears, what with Varize’s constant boasting and totting up of his future assets, it had at least proven one of her long held beliefs to be correct. Beautiful people aren’t necessarily always interesting people.
In fact Arica had to wonder if she was having quite the fun time she’d imagined herself to be, and if she hadn’t enjoyed herself much more at Zara’s parties when she’d been quietly tucked away reading one of her books. It was true that, for a few brief minutes she had quite liked being the centre of attention, sat in the midst of a dozen handsome suitors all desperate to win one of her smiles. It had been like something out of the pages of one of her stories - she was the enigmatic Ruby O’Lara at the Ten Elm barbecue surrounded by a brood of beau’s all rushing to bring her favours.
But, as Arica was quickly discovering, real life was very different from the tales in her romantic novels.
”…I’ll have to take you there some time, I could show you my vast collection of aquatic vehicles, or, if you’d prefer something a little more… feminine I could show you my father’s superior collection of oil paintings – garish things really…” Varize sniffed slightly, “…compositions of flowers and farm houses and the like. You may find them quaint, though…”
Arica smiled faintly, though she had the feeling that maybe Sergov was insulting her in an indirect manner. It didn’t matter though… had Arica been romantically inclined towards the young prince his slight may have hurt, as it was she would have given everything in the galaxy to be here dancing with Captain Morris instead, despite their earlier quarrel.
As the music suddenly changed tempo, the dancing couples quickly cleared the floor. A vibrant beat thundered down from the alcove above and a cloud of bright scarlet smoke erupted dramatically from one of the arching doorways.
Arica’s face brightened behind her mask, this was the part of Zara’s parties that she always enjoyed, the seductive dancing of the Twi’lek performers. She looked up at her partner, the young Lord Segov Varize, and smiled while he took her hand, holding her close next to him as though afraid that she might run away.
Daell counted in her head as the music advanced, and when it reached the right moment she entered the dance floor with a cartwheel to land splitting just in front of Zara’s place. She jumped up immediately and started to gyrate to the music’s rhythm. She knew her routine perfectly well; she always prepared herself for these events, changing the music, the steps, her attire. Not that she needed much preparation, dancing seemed to be genetically imbued in her kind, but she needed Zara to keep employing her. Daell closed her eyes, and concentrated on the music, soon her mind depleted of everything but the entrancing sounds, her body becoming a continuity of music.
Everyone clapped at the Twi’lek’s entrance, drawing quiet again as she wove and twirled in time to the thrumming melody. Arica’s applause was as enthusiastic as ever and also allowed her to free her hand from that of her companion. She recognised the lethan immediately, she’d danced at Zara Orsiri’s parties on many occasions and her routines were always spectacular, full of skill and energy. She moved about the polished floor with ease, a blur of crimson in the brilliant light of the chandeliers that sparkled off every gleaming limb, the leather straps of her outfit slapping against her legs as she spun and leapt.
“Not bad, is she?” Varize whispered into Arica’s ear, a smug grin spreading on his face as he straightened up. “But then these Twi’lek women are only good for two things…”
Arica frowned, “what do you mean?”
“Well… lets just say their other skill is probably rather more… horizontal,” he smirked again, his eyes combing across the scarlet dancer’s body. “And from the looks of her, I’d say she gets plenty of practice in both professions.”
Arica blushed as she eventually conveyed Segov’s meaning. “I… I don’t think that’s terribly fair,” she stammered uneasily, “w-what right do you have to judge someone who-“ Arica stopped suddenly as she glanced back in the direction of the Twi’lek. Hadn’t she once noticed the graceful gait of her walk, not to mention the slow, slumberous tilt of her lekku?
“Daell?” she mumbled to herself, a confused frown spreading across her brow.
Daell danced, music surging through her body, oblivious to the stares of those around her. She was used to their leering. She gyrated and jumped, curled and twirled until the final notes died. She turned to face her hostess, and bowed low to her as she always did, her lekku falling limp at the sides of her head. After a couple of seconds she raised her head again, and her eyes glided over the crowd – most of them unrecognisable behind feather masks and jewelled costumes. How silly they looked, Daell thought, silly and decadent, then she chuckled to herself. *I’m wearing a costume too.*
As she walked from the dance floor someone caught her eyes though. A girl in a rich red dress, crimson red. That wasn’t strange in itself, but somehow her attitude was so familiar that Daell almost missed a step. The girl was clutching a pendant, her fingers absently fondling the clear jewel while she watched her move away. Daell quickly recovered herself and kept walking. It wasn’t strange that Arica attended the masquerade, but she didn’t like the way the girl had been watching her. As if she had recognised her.
“Miss Odari-Mosora?” enquired the young Varize, snatching hold of her hand again. Yes she had rebuked him but the girl was too beguiling to let such an outburst put him off. “Are you quite alright? Can I get you something?”
“No,” said Arica absently, watching the Twi’lek’s retreating form. She was certain that it was Daell, but why would she be here? And more importantly, why in disguise? Feeling the tug on her hand, she turned back to her dance partner.
“I mean, yes, yes, thank-you,” she corrected herself. “I’m just a little… short of breath I guess, from all the dancing. If you could get me something to drink?”
Lord Varize smiled graciously, the girl was young and inexperienced but she was very pretty, he couldn’t understand how he’d managed to overlook her at Zara’s other parties. “It is rather warm in here,” he agreed, leading her over to a chair and sitting her down. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
Arica waited until Varize was out of view before quickly setting off in the direction of Daell.
The Twi’lek had just reached the far end of the ballroom when she felt, more than heard, Arica on her heels. She sighed, and kept walking while she looked around, searching for her bodyguard. If Arica was there, Moriss couldn’t be too far away. However, he wasn’t to be seen.
*Typical, they disappear when you need them most!* she thought, irritated. She walked quickly and exited the room through a grand arch leading to an impressive corridor. There were several smaller rooms along the corridor, she remembered, a better spot for a confrontation with the girl.
Keeping a way back so as to not draw any undue attention, Arica followed the Twi’lek as she left the hustle and bustle of the ballroom and headed down a corridor. She still wasn’t sure whether the dancer was Daell or not, but her curiosity knew no bounds.
*And you know what Curiosity did to the Jarencat, don’t you?* Arica thought to herself as she walked, pulling free her mask when the subdued lighting of the corridor made it too hard for her to see with her face so obscured. *But what would you be doing here Daell? Is this part of that plan of yours and Corin’s? To find the traitor who betrayed the noble houses?*
Seeing the Twi’lek disappear into a room, Arica gave her surroundings a cursory glance to make sure that Varize or another one of her suitors hadn’t followed before entering also.
Daell didn’t turn around when she heard the girl enter the chamber, she had sat on a low settee and was massaging her feet, as if she had been looking just for a secluded spot to rest after her performance. Maybe she could still mislead her. She didn’t like lying to the girl, but she didn’t want her involved either.
When she heard Arica take another doubtful step into the room, Daell raised quickly and bowed. “I’m sorry Miss, I was just resting a little. I’ll leave at once,” she said, trying to sound subservient. As she spoke, she started to walk towards the door, her head bent.
“D-Daell?” stammered Arica uncertainly, taking half a step in the Twi’lek’s path to stop her from leaving. She hesitated, her hand wavering in mid-air before she landed it on the other woman’s arm. Arica frowned a little, looking into the Twi’lek’s familiar, violet eyes.
“It is you,” she said in confusion, “what are you doing?”
The Twi’lek opened her mouth to deny it, but Arica’s puzzled eyes made her stop. She sighed, and opened her mouth again.
“That was amazing,” an enthusiastic voice called out. Before either woman could react, Derex walked into the room. His eyes were covered by an intricate mask, though his beaming smile was in plain view.
“I swear Daell, our prince was a lucky, lucky man,” he said, giving her an excited kiss on her cheek all the while taking no notice of Arica who was standing right next to them.
Daell’s gaze jumped to Arica before she extricated herself from her friend’s enthusiastic embrace. He was masked but completely recognisable all the same, that excited effusiveness could only belong to Derex. Sending Arica another guilty glance, she turned to him, thinking furiously what to say.
“Derex! What a surprise!” was all she could utter. “You gave us a start…” she added, looking pointedly at the girl blushing near them. She could swear Arica looked redder than her, lethan paint and all.
“Us? ...Oh right,” In his energetic mood, he hadn’t even realised that Daell had been in the middle of a conversation. “Pardon my interruption, I’m Derex,” he said confidently, grabbing the young lady’s hand and bringing it up to his lips. A cocky smirk crossed his face as he moved his eyes up to meet hers.
*Uh oh* There, gazing back at him was the beautiful ingénue from the Betrayn palace, and worse was that he had just introduced himself. *Ok, I’m wearing a mask and there is no saying she recognises me, I should just excuse myself now and get away and…*
“And thankfully you aren’t wearing a mask, because covering an angelic face like yours would be a crime,” Derex could hear himself saying. *Ah well, too late now.*
Arica felt her cheeks redden even more as the masked man released her hand. Even though his face was partly disguised he seemed familiar somehow, something in his manner…
“I-It’s nice to meet you my lord,” she said nervously, glancing back at Daell and the anxious expression on her face. “What is going on here? You two know each other? Daell?”
“We do, Arica. We’re old friends,” she answered, smiling tensely at her, it was of no use to try to deny her identity now. She turned to Derex and almost burned him with her eyes. “Derex, this is Arica Odari-Mosora, and you better behave. She’s a friend too.”
“Behave?” he said as if taken aback. “You know I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he said convincingly, giving Daell a quick wink when Arica turned her gaze to the Twi’lek and away from him.
“So you aren’t you playing the electroharp later?” he said, locking eyes once more with the young girl. There was something in the man’s mannerism’s, a playfulness as if he knew some secret joke that Arica hadn’t quite picked up on yet.
“I can’t wait, you play so beautifully… err I mean so I’ve heard.”
Arica blushed again, something was going on here that had her completely confounded but she also couldn’t ask Daell why she’d lied about her identity with this other man in the room. “I… you’re too kind, Sir,” she relented, releasing a deep sigh to steady herself. “I’m far from deserving such praise.”
“It’s not like a woman in red to be so modest,” Derex commented as he admired the girl’s form. His brain was still telling him that all this was a huge mistake, but there was something about this girl that was captivating.
“It’s not my dress-” Arica blurted out without even thinking, averting her eyes as soon as the words had left her mouth. Why did she ever let Princess Zara persuade her into wearing such a thing? All the extra attention had been quite nice at first, she’d felt somehow special to have so many admirers all flocking around her, just like Isabella Armens after her cousin Alaya had given her a make-over to impress the Earl of Celanon City. But it was all too much now and Arica just felt self-conscious and silly.
“I mean to say that… that it’s borrowed and…” she wrinkled her nose up awkwardly, taking another look at the masked man. “I’m sorry my lord, but have we met before? You seem… I don’t know, familiar?”
There was a break in the man’s self-assured composure, only briefly, but it was there. “It’s entirely possible,” he finally said, forcing the smile back to his face. “I’m friends with Princess Zara, so it’s entirely possible we met at one of these little rendezvous of hers.”
Daell rolled her eyes at the exchange. Derex was flirting shamelessly. *Behave, indeed,* she thought, as she moved a little in front of the man. She was angry; things weren’t going as she had planned. First Arica recognising her and now Derex. His words about being friends with Zara hadn’t helped things either.
“Can you cut it, Derex?” she asked at last. Annoyance making her rude, “I’m sure Zara is already missing your flirting face.”
The man stared blankly at the Twi’lek, not sure what had just happened. “Okay, okay, I get it, you guys were having some private girl talk,” he replied nonchalantly, trying not to seem affected by her outburst. “I’ll leave you to your privacy then. Daell, Ms. Odari.” Giving a little bow, the man couldn’t help but flash Arica a seductive smile before leaving the room.
“Damn it,” Daell exclaimed and hurried behind him. “Derex, wait!” she called the man who was already in the corridor.
“Yes Daell?” he spun around, his tone colder than before. “I thought you made it pretty clear you wanted me to leave.”
Daell rolled her eyes. Now he was acting offended! “I just didn’t welcome you blowing my cover in front of Arica, Derex. Hello? Red paint here? Besides, how did you recognise me?”
“Come on, I saw you in clubs with Zayen enough times to know when it’s you dancing. And besides, how was I supposed to know you didn’t want the girl to know who you were?”
Daell’s silence only backed up Derex’s defence.
“So do you think Corin will try to sneak in,” he said, changing the subject to avoid anymore awkwardness. “I’m sure Zara would love to know he’s alive. They didn’t get along great in the past, but I’m sure she misses him.”
Daell paled and her lekku trembled in apprehension. She could only hope the red paint covered her trepidation. She remembered Derex had been one of the few who could ever get to the ‘ice princess’ as they jokingly called Zara during those times, he was even reputed to have been her first lover… And Derex didn’t know of her betrayal, it was only logical that he wanted to tell her. She moistened her lips, thinking.
“Derex… Corin is coming, yes. But you have to promise me you won't tell a soul. Especially not Zara. The less people who know he’s alive, the better.” She didn’t notice her voice becoming almost pleading. “Promise me you won't tell her.”
The man opened his mouth to protest, but something in Daell’s eyes told him this wasn’t debatable. “Alright, don’t worry, I’ll keep it quiet,” he said, as he turned back to the party. Suddenly, he stopped and whipped back around. “On one condition.” Now, his voice was back to being playful and mischievous.
“What’s that?” the Twi’lek replied apprehensively.
“You don’t give any more warnings to Ms Odari about me,” he said with a wink as he strode back into the ballroom.
Squaring her shoulders, Daell entered the darkened room again. Arica was as she had left her, probably completely bewildered about what had happened. She knew she’d have to answer her questions now. Well, so be it.
Arica turned as Daell re-entered the room, she was more confused now than ever, the appearance of the Twi’lek’s friend only adding to her baffled state. “What’s going on Daell?” she asked simply, “why did you pretend not to know me? And why are you wearing that costume?”
“I'm sorry, Arica, I can’t tell you that.” Daell said, her eyes pleading for understanding. She sighed. “I didn’t want to lie to you, that’s why I didn’t acknowledge you earlier.”
“Don’t you trust me?” Arica asked, her voice full of hurt. “I… I thought we were friends.”
“Oh, Arica, we are… but part of friendship is not putting your friends at risk.” She took the girl’s hand in her own. “What I’m doing here, well… it could be dangerous. I'm in disguise because I don’t want to be recognised, cannot be recognised. I could have killed Derex for blowing my cover like that!”
She gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I just don’t want you hurt, Arica.”
“W-Well maybe I could help,” Arica ventured warily, looking down at their joined hands. “If you’re in danger then you might get hurt and… and, well I owe you Daell, I owe you for saving my life. I could help you I know I could, just tell me what I can do.”
Daell looked down at their hands, and remembered the conversation she had kept with Moriss. He had been right, Arica would jump into any kind of danger just because of her sense of duty… and friendship. She bit her lip, feeling the pungent taste of her paint where it wetted.
“I am not in danger, but I could be if some of these noble people recognised me. So first of all, don’t go doing what Derex did!!” She chuckled, “I’ve already asked him to keep quiet.”
Arica’s face showed expectation and she sighed again, the girl was waiting for her to tell her how to help. *Damn you, Captain, for being so right!* she thought.
“Okay, can you be discrete?” she asked at last.
Arica nodded enthusiastically. To be part of a secret mission, even a dangerous one, was quite exciting. She could wear her mask and be in disguise like Daell, or Madeline Rushton in Theroux Jameson’s Secrets and Lies.
“I won’t let you down, I promise.”
“Well, one of the reasons I'm here tonight is to just watch and learn. This banquet is in honour of the newly arrived Inquisitor; I just wanted to take a closer look at him. No!” she said when Arica looked ready to go and start stalking the Inquisitor. That would surely attract attention to the noblewoman and the man was way too cunning.
“I don’t want you to watch him, that’s being taken care of, but you could just pay attention to who’s talking with whom after they talk to Severus.”
“I could do that,” smiled Arica eagerly, nodding again. She never even thought to ask why Daell was interested in the Inquisitor, she was just too elated at being brought into the Twi’lek’s confidence. She’d never been able to make friends very easily, she was just too shy and withdrawn, but with Daell it was different. Daell had saved her life, she was her heroine in every sense of the word and the kind of friend that Arica had always longed for.
“I won’t let you down,” she declared again, slipping her mask back into place and heading towards the door. “You can rely on me.”
Daell smiled, “just be careful, and Arica... better not tell your Captain about this. He’d kill me if he found out.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Arica was idling in the corridor when a young servant, gasping for breath, came running in from the direction of the ballroom.
“Oh, mi’lady!” she gasped, her right hand clasped across her breast with relief. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! It’s time for your performance, the rest of the players have already assembled and I was sent to look for you.”
Arica paled, the prospect of being an undercover spy… or even sharing another dance with Lord Segov suddenly seemed much more attractive. “I… well I…”
“Oh please do hurry, mi’lady,” urged the young girl who couldn’t have been much younger than Arica herself. “I’ll be in awful trouble if I don’t return quickly.”
With a sigh, Arica relented and nodded, following the girl as she led the way back to the ballroom.
******
The party was even duller and the guests even more alarmingly superficial than Severus had expected. He had neither participated in nor overheard one iota of intelligent conversation and wondered silently how the nobles of Vorgrell had maintained their dominance prior to the Empire’s arrival when, to them, pet fashions constituted an engaging conversation topic.
Glancing over at the hostess, the Major couldn’t help but shake his head. Zara Orsiri was strikingly beautiful. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the ballroom’s soft lighting, and her smile shone like a star upon those lucky enough to be favoured with it. Such beauty wrapped around such a withered and hollow core of evil and vindictiveness. Had she been anyone else… but she wasn’t, he forcefully reminded himself.
He sighed and took a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter. With so many V.I.P.s present at the party, the majority of Plateau City’s security was focused there, leaving certain areas of the city virtually an open market for the less savoury segments of society. And it was there that the Major had sent Zastra to ferret out as much information as she could about anything – but most importantly, about Master Nada – while the possibility of interference by the constabulary was minimal. However, standing as he was, buffeted by the waves of inanity and the undertow of vapidity, Severus was wishing he’d brought her along. At least then he would have had a kindred spirit to share his derision of these silk stocking types.
*Silk stockings*, he thought, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. *Yes. Silk stockings filled with shit.*
He took a sip of his wine and looked around the room again. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to find, if he was hoping to find anything, but it didn’t matter – all he found was nothing. Tuxedoes filled with nothing. Ball gowns filled with nothing. People who were nothing but titles and bank accounts. People who were too stupid to realise that they were all living on borrowed time, regardless of whether it was the Empire or House Orsiri who finally dropped the guillotine. He could probably even kill one tonight and no one would notice. Follow one of the overstuffed fools into the men’s room and drown him in a urinal. The Major began to chuckle, but quickly stopped himself as one of the fatted cattle approached.
“Major Severus,?” asked the bloated moron, his elaborate costume making him look like… a bloated moron in a stupid party mask. “I would just like to welcome you to Vorgrell and to Plateau City on behalf of the Plateau City Public Works Department.”
“Thank you,” said the Major, trying and failing to sound gracious.
The man began to say something further – some lie about being happy with the Imperial presence – but Severus was spared the pain of having to listen any further. The Princess was requesting the guests bring their attention to the performance floor, where a small band was preparing to perform. At the request of the Princess, Severus joined her and Commander Harkness to take in the concert.
Nervously, Arica sat herself upon the small chair and rested the electroharp between her knees. She felt the eyes of the room upon her and a waiting silence settle amongst the crowds.
Taking a deep breath, Arica closed her eyes and lay her fingers upon the fine strings. Delicate strains of music flowed from the rippling cords, as light as air and as fluid as water. As Arica applied more pressure, building up the layers of music, a sweet, robust melody filtered out from the amplifier and filled the ballroom.
Arica sighed inwardly with relief as she hit the right notes, her fingers weaving their way through the complex polyrhythms and accelerandos with ease as though guided by an unseen hand.
A few bars in, the rest of the band began to play – Vioflute and Lute Pipe alongside the Kloo Horn and Touchboard. Finally, Arica felt like she could relax – at least for a short while until her solo piece at the end. Opening her eyes, she carefully surveyed the audience and in particular the gathering of Imperial Officers that surrounded Princess Zara.
It was easy to make out the Major amongst them; the polished metal of his armour gleamed in the light of the chandeliers. He was also the most imposing figure out of the entire group; his helmet covered face inscrutable and severe. It was the first time Arica had ever laid eyes upon him and she had to admit that he unnerved her a little, he looked more like a machine than a living, breathing, flesh and blood human being.
She remembered her mission, to monitor those who talked to the Major and with whom they talked afterwards. So far it seemed that no one was talking to him, few even dared to glance in his direction such was the fear provoking nature of his appearance. Arica herself barely dared to look at him, having to avert her gaze every few seconds.
Even so, she couldn't help but wonder what he looked like beneath all that metal. She imagined a withered and pale creature, unable to withstand the bright light of the sun or even breathe in the air without the aid of his helmet. Maybe Zod Severus was in fact a machine after all? Perhaps no human lived inside, just a mass of wires and circuit boards. Or what if he was alive but not human? A dwarfish creature like the Hchni'I or perhaps even smaller, operating the imposing body of the Major with a series of levers and switches...
Arica was so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed her place in the music, hitting the wrong string with the tip of her index finger. It was a minor slip up, and she managed to carry on without dropping a beat, but she felt her heart sink all the same. She'd practised for such a long time and so hard trying to get it right, she'd wanted it to be perfect.
Returning her focus to the music, Arica played the rest of the piece flawlessly and bowed gratefully at its culmination as the audience gave their applause.
As he watched the girl take her bow, Severus was approached by another supposed well-wisher. A Neimoidian. The controlling race of the Trade Federation. A whole race of gutless bludflies.
“Greetings, Major Severus,” said the Neimoidian. “I am Prefect Urgin Gar…”
“What do you want?”
“I, uh, I represent the interests of the Trade Federation on Vorgrell,” said Gar, taken aback by the Major’s abruptness.
“I have no business with the Trade Federation, nor do I ever intend to. Now if you’ll excuse me,” snapped the Major. “I have more important business to attend to that doesn’t involve Trade Fed shit-weasels.”
As the Major stomped off to find another glass of wine, he noticed out of the corner of his eye the girl – the one who had played the electroharp so well – excused herself from conversation with the bloated moron who had cornered him earlier and made her way directly to the Neimoidian. He frowned. Was she actually shadowing him?
For the moment, he forgot his anger and indulged his curiosity, engaging two random individuals in successive small talk, then ducking aside to sip a newly acquired glass of wine and watch. And sure enough, when the girl thought Severus was out of sight, she briefly engaged the very same two people the Major had spoken with. As the girl finished her brief discussion, Severus weaved his way through people and pillars to intercept her.
Arica was a little confused. She felt she was doing quite well with her mission, getting information about conversations Major Severus had been having, but her results didn’t make any sense to her. Two of the people she’d spoken with said the Major was gruff, rude and hostile. But the last two… they said he was polite, even friendly. One even said the Major was asking about good areas outside the city to go fishing.
Giggling quietly to herself as she pictured the imposing armoured figure hunched over in small boat, fishing rod in hand, floppy fishing hat over his plasteel helmet, Arica rounded a pillar and bumped into one of the party guests.
“Oh, I’m sorry…” she said, her voice suddenly faltering and her eyes growing wide. The mask she was staring into was no fancy, jewelled masquerade novelty hiding the soft features of an aristocrat. “M-Major…”
“Your technique on the electroharp is impressive. Most impressive.”
Letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, Arica hoped the Major hadn’t noticed her relief. She had thought she’d done something to give herself away, to blow her cover, but…
“However,” he continued. “Your spying technique needs considerable work.”
Arica swallowed heavily. She’d heard stories – rumours, really – about Severus and those rumours made the Major out to be two shades more evil than even the wicked Captain Broodan in Hilvik’s ‘The Blood Red Sea’.
“I, I…”
“Generally, you should wait a period of time before probing previous conversation partners for information. Vary the time, but never go directly after your mark has engaged, it’s too easy to spot,” he said. He could see the fear in the girl’s eyes. She’d clearly heard something about him that made her afraid and while he usually didn’t mind striking fear into the hearts of people, this time it made him slightly uncomfortable. She seemed so young, probably about… probably about the age Vislyn would have been. “I’m sure you’ll do better next time,” he added awkwardly, sipping his wine.
Arica blushed and looked away, but her curiosity was too great to be satisfied yet. Looking up again, she couldn’t help but stare at the Major as all her earlier thoughts flooded her mind.
“Are you…,” she said, then looked away again. “I mean to say, is your armour… is that armour?”
“You mean am I a droid? No. I’m no General Greivous,” he said, not knowing if the girl even knew who Greivous was. “The armour is a medical necessity.”
She nodded, not really understanding what he meant, but not wanting to push too much for the answers. From the way people talked about Severus, getting this much out of him seemed like a minor miracle.
“Oh,” she said as though suddenly remembering her manners. “My name is Arica. Arica Odari-Mosora,” she smiled shyly, extending her hand. As he took it, she was surprised that his armour wasn’t cold, but very nearly as warm as human skin.
“Major Zod Severus. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Odari-Mosora.”
“And you too, Major,” said Arica politely, bowing her head.
“I… I apologise for my rather strange behaviour, I… I wasn’t spying,” she lied, the slight tremble to her voice betraying her inner anxiety. She wondered for the first time why Daell had asked her to keep an eye on the Major, certainly he was imposing – but then much the same could be said for any officer in the employ of the Empire.
“Not intentionally I mean,” she added, “I just… I guess I wanted to find out more about you, before I spoke to you in person that is, you seem very different from the other Imperial officers we have stationed on Vorgrell.”
“A compliment indeed,” said the Major gruffly, “I’ve known amoebas with more personality than some of my fellow officers.”
Arica had to stifle a giggle, biting her lower lip with barely restrained mirth. “Like Orison in Elmwor’s’Shallow Depths’,” she smiled brightly.
“You read Elmwor?” queried the Major. Deep beneath all his armour he felt a stab of pain in his heart. Elmwor had been one of Vislyn’s favourite authors, he’d spent more nights reading the stories to her than he could count. “I didn’t think people read Tales from Reega any more.”
“Oh I adore Elmwor,” Arica gushed animatedly, pressing her hands together in delight. “No one I talk to has ever even heard of him. But I… I have to admit, Konnik’s ‘Beach of Stars’ is still one of my favourites, I think I must have read it over a dozen times, I just love the poetry… and the colour… it’s so beautiful.”
“Ah, Konnik,” said the Major. “Quite a flair for the dramatic, that one, though his early work – his very early work – lacked any real heart. It wasn’t until ‘Requiem’ that he hit his stride.”
“You don’t think his first two collections were well-written?” Arica asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“It’s not a matter of well-written versus poorly-written, it’s a matter of life experience. Konnik was the rich son of a rich son of a rich son. He neither earned nor fought for anything he had, and he lived in an insulated world, sheltered from virtually any hardship.”
Arica nodded, though inside she felt her stomach tie up in knots. She’d always wanted to be a writer but if the Major thought Konnik to have lived a charmed life, she didn’t want to think what he might say of her own, extremely sheltered upbringing.
“He was writing about emotions and adversity he had never encountered because of his narrow life experience. While the writing was strong in technique, it lacked substance. It was hollow. Not until his father was imprisoned on fraud charges and his family bankrupted did Konnik find out what really serves as the fuel for the poet’s soul: tragedy.”
An awkward silence followed. The Major seemed well acquainted with the idea of tragedy, thought Arica – uncomfortably so. Though she’d heard rumours about him insofar as his violent tendencies, she’d heard nothing at all about his past. In fact, thinking back on what little she had heard, Arica realised that all of it had been action rather than history or personality. The Major had tortured one person; the Major had sent a squad of stormtroopers to negotiate with another. It was as if to most people, there wasn’t a man under the mask. She wasn’t sure, but she thought that maybe thinking of Severus like that made it easier for people to hate him.
Realising she was just staring and prolonging the silence, Arica blushed and coughed lightly, trying – unsuccessfully – to cover up the awkwardness.
“Um. Are you… enjoying the party, Major?”
She felt uneasy asking, but though she was at a loss for what to say, she realised how rare the situation was and wasn’t keen to let it slip away.
“No,” he said, glancing around the huge room. “No, I dislike parties as a rule, especially formal ones filled with people I dislike intensely.”
A laugh burst from Arica’s lips and she quickly covered her mouth with a hand to muffle the sound, more than a little embarrassed. Severus couldn’t help but smile at the ease with which Arica laughed and the way her eyes sparkled when she did. His daughter had been the same way. From the moment he and Leetra had brought Vislyn home from the hospital, rarely a day went by that their house hadn’t echoed with the sound of her laughter. In the intervening years, he had found himself unable to recall what that laughter had sounded like, but here, in these sickeningly opulent surroundings, speaking with a teenaged noble, he could hear the sound loud and clear.
The Major swallowed heavily and felt a small lump in his throat.
His thoughts were interrupted by a young nobleman – Lord Segov, or Sergov, or something like that – wanting Arica to accompany him out on the dance floor. The man was quite handsome, but the look that momentarily flashed across Arica’s face told Severus everything he needed to know.
“Bugger off, boy,” he snapped.
Stunned for a moment, the young noble quickly excused himself to the far side of the hall, but the Major’s outburst had drawn a half-dozen stares from nearby guests. One of which was a uniformed man with chiselled features and sharp eyes who Severus immediately recognised as Moriss, the head of security for House Bertrayn.
He looked back at Arica. Her eyes were wide and some of her previous fear had crept back into them. The rapid transition from calm and friendly conversation to sharp, gravel-voiced threats – or implied threats – had startled her and she couldn’t help but wonder whether one poorly-worded question would cause the Inquisitor to turn on her as well.
The Major sighed. He’d gotten protective of this girl he’d only just met and in the process had scared her again. He knew exactly why he’d become so defensive on her behalf – the age, the laughter, the shyness, the bright and lively eyes, the graceful manner… this girl was so much like what he always imagined Vislyn would have grown up to become.
“I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “I need some fresh air.”
Making his way through the partygoers toward the open air of the balcony, Severus ignored the fact that Captain Moriss was staring daggers at him.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
*I guess this party gives a new meaning to the word ‘crowded’* Lara Jay’Vex thought, as she watched the Twi’lek dance. She remembered the girl, Dale, had it been? No, Laura. Lara frowned, before memory got to her. Daell. Daell Lauren. Zayen’s last girlfriend, and it had seemed, a bit more serious than her predecessors. For sure, Daell’s skin had been blue and spotted, and this girl was most definitely a Lethan… but it was her face, and her movements. She shrugged, everybody was in disguise that night, why ever couldn’t Daell too. It wasn’t as if she could be wearing a sumptuous costume while dancing.
Her eyes searched Zara; the Princess looked just as beautiful and cold as she had two years ago. Lara had never really liked Zayen’s sister, but at the moment she felt a bonding with the other noble girl. She was the only survivor of her house, like she was of hers… the only difference that she hadn’t been forced to go under. Of course, the Princess hadn’t been betrayed by her own family. She wondered how Zara had fared, all this time, pushed to power over her family’s death. What the hell, she had probably fared much better than herself!
And there was Derex Foxx too. She could recognize Derex anywhere, he had a certain brash bearing that only belonged to him, even after his accident. He was flirting blatantly with some noble girl, while not taking his eyes off the dancer. Lara rolled her eyes when she saw him excuse himself and follow the alien out of the ballroom when she finished her act.
She hurried her drink when people began to move again, after Daell’s act, and she started to walk around. She was looking for somebody in particular that night, that’s why she had dared to get out of her alien’s costume herself. Lara cooled herself with her elaborate green fan. It was hand painted, and it showed a pastoral scene, with a gorgeous girl dressed in green, sitting down besides her beau. Lara’s dress was an exact copy of the girl’s. It had a tight bodice of bottle green velvet fastened with golden thread, that opened in a ample bell-shape satin skirt, heavily embroidered in gold and silver around the hem. Ruffles of golden lace spilled from the full sleeves and the low bodice, that left little to imagination. Her breasts, pulled together and up by her corset, seemed to spill from their restraints too. It was just what Lara wanted, the less people watched her face, the better – of course, she was wearing the customary mask, done in greens and golds, and a high golden haired wig. She was even wearing contact lenses, of a vibrant green, much more intense than hers. Lara had spent all her winnings from her last race in the costume, and it was well worth it. She felt a little like her old self again. If you forgot she was supposed to be dead, that is.
A hand in her shoulder made her tense up, forgetting for a second where she was. *Stop it,* she told herself, *paranoia won’t get you anywhere* She was relatively safe in the palace, nobody could relate the gracious noble woman with Mol Bessa, the Madris racer champion, it was next to impossible that her attackers would have followed her here. She frowned at the thought of the attacks that had led her to her premature moving to Plateau City, way before she had originally planned. But four attempts on her life at Shipwreck had hurried her plans. Most probably a jealous racer, getting rid of the competition, but she couldn’t discard her own family, and when you were living undercover, no caution was little.
Lara raised her fan and hid the lower half of her face with it before turning towards the aristocrat who had touched her. She needed all the self-discipline of the last two years for her smile not to falter when she looked up at the aristocratic face of the man. Opposite to most guests, his mask was in his hand and not his face, something that showed his disregard of convention. She would have recognized him anyway, she thought, as she watched him. He was wearing a powdered wig, in the Vorgrell fashion, and a deep red velvet jacket, that showed flounces of white lace, but it was his stance, the thin line of his mouth and those cold brown eyes that did the trick. Baldrick Parrisi, self appointed Jay’Vex Chume, and the most ruthless bastard Lara had ever met. *Worse even than my father,* she thought, coldly.
“My lord Chume,” she said gently, as she offered him the appropriate courtesy for a man of his position and a member of the planet’s Council, even if that didn’t mean much after the Empire had arrived to Vorgell. She forced a smile on her face.
Baldrick smiled with pleasure at the girl’s perfect sense of etiquette. He waited till she looked at him again and peered through her mask, locking his gaze with her startling green one. “Raise, my girl,” he said gently and extended his hand to help her up. “I see you recognize me, but that leaves me in utter disadvantage, although I don’t understand how I fail to recognize such charming lady…”
“Miss Mia Alinovna, my lord.” Lara said, meekly, letting her cheeks flush slightly, as if embarrassed for him assuming she was of noble birth. “I am from Tatooine, my father came to Vorgell in business - he works in trade - and I’m accompanying him in his trip.”
She didn’t add anything else. The beautiful daughter of a rich merchant from a planet even more far-off than Vorgrell could only mean something. The ambitious merchant wanted her daughter to marry above her status. It wouldn’t be the first nor the last time that happened.
Baldrick pondered at her words, not missing their meaning, while he took into consideration the exquisite gown she was wearing – worth a little fortune - and the most satisfying way in which she stood in front of a man of obviously more value. A rich merchant’s daughter would be a good choice for his bride, easy to control, nothing like those Hapan women! The girl obviously knew her etiquette or he wouldn’t have taken her for nobility, from what he could see of her face behind the mask she was beautiful, and last but not least, she was wealthy. Besides she would be most grateful of the honor bestowed upon her if he decided to court her.
“Oh, I see. I’m afraid I know little of your homeworld, my dear.” He said, as he offered her his arm. “You must tell me all about Tatooine and your life there, Mia.”
Lara bowed her head, and smiled. This was an unexpected turn, but not an unfortunate one. She placed her deceivingly small and delicate hand on his sleeve, and let her to be led towards the balcony.
Introducing
Linda Cardellini as Lara Jay’Vex and
John Malkovich as the Jay’Vex Chume Baldrick Parrisi
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
He had Daell replace the vent behind him as he entered the system, then wondered what he had just gotten himself in to. Not knowing a lot about the exact layout of the palace would it make that much more difficult to actually find his way through the system. Then there was the fact that he had to crawl. All he would need to was find a small animal... no. He wasn't going to think about that possibility.
Moving through the system was slow. Fortunately, parts of it were on an incline. As he moved, his breath quickly started to grow heavier, pulling himself through the system. Remaining as silent as possible and still moving with speed became a more difficult task. Especially when he hit the part where he had to wiggle his way like a worm to try and reach a higher level.
At the sound of voices, he stopped, listening carefully. Had they heard him? No, they hadn't. Moving more slowly, he continued by, halting when he realised where he was. “Come on,” one of them was saying, “you know this waiting is the worst. I mean, here we are, ready to storm the hall on a moment's notice. What's she waiting for?”
“You know our orders,” another one said. “We're to wait for the signal. Then, and only then, do we make our move....”
Cael glanced over when he reached a point that he could see out of. Orsiri guards. More than that, apparantly, lots of Orsiri guards. From the rest of the conservation, they sounded ready to actually invade the hall at a moment's notice. Only he couldn't turn back, he told himself. He had to go on; if he couldn't get a backdoor into the computer, whatever Zara was planning might never be exposed.
Eventually, time stopped passing. Events just became a string of motions, grinding along, with the worst being trying to move up an additional level. When he finally reached the main terminal room, his body was already cramping up. A large grunt as he pulled his arm out from under him was followed by trying to apply a small dissolving solution to the edges of the grate. It used up the entire supply that he was carrying, and the grate fell away.
Time stopped as the loud clang of grate on floor came.
Cael waited for several minutes, expecting the guards to come in.
Nothing happened.
With a great force of effort, he heaved himself out of the shaft, into the room, jogging over to the console. His hands worked furiously at the inside of his jacket, now covered in dust and grime, pulling out the small piece of equipment that he needed. Turning on the monitor, he attached a module to the comupter's utility socket. The ICE Breaker immediately began to run.
For what seemed an eternity, but couldn't have been more than 20 minutes, his fingers flew over the controls, entering commands to avoid the intrusion being detected, swapping out one module for another. Then, at last, the slicer smiled, resisting the urge to whoop with joy as the machine verified a new account set up, and the deletion of the log.
Gathering up his equipment, he hurried back to the grate, applying sealant in the hopes of concealing his trip to the mainframe long enough to do some good.
----------
Cael resisted the urge to swear as he moved through the ventilation system slowly, his body pressed down against the metal. It was difficult to move with any speed while keeping the noise down. Even worse, he made a wrong turn somewhere and was having problem finding his way back out. Then it seemed the Force had smiled on him, when he heard Daell's voice, and started to crawl slowly forward... only to stop at the sound of another voice.
Listening in silence, his body tensed and tried to cramp. When things were silent for a few minutes, he tried to decide if it was worth the risk. Finally he made a little whistle sound, hoping to get someone's attention. Dael's voice lightly came, and he started to lightly tap in an attempt to get her attention, too afraid to speak lest his voice carry.
Daell was about to leave the empty room when she heard a faint knocking close by. She turned around, trying to locate the origin of the sound. It wasn’t something accidental, the tapping was too regular to be so, and it seemed to come from many directions too.
“Hello?” she asked, walking to the chamber’s door. She looked down the hall, but it was empty, besides, the sound sounded fainter. Going back to the room, she listened again. There it was. Her eyes rested on the ventilation shaft, craftily disguised in the golden plaster carvings of the walls. Could it be Cael? She walked towards the shaft and looked around before kneeling besides it. “Is it you, Cael?” she asked softly.
Daell! She was there! More than that, she was actually in a safe enough position that she could try to talk to him. Cael felt enough relief that he could not contain a laugh at the predicament he was in. Then the thought occurred that maybe someone else was there, or the laughter was carrying too far, and a note of hysteria entered it. “Nobody in here but us dust mites,” he got out as it returned to normal. “I, uh... got... lost....”
The Twi’lek covered her mouth to prevent her laughter. He sounded frantic enough to add injuring his pride. “Can you follow my voice?” she asked instead.
In an attempt to keep the last of his pride in tact, Cael finally forced himself to stop laughing. “Yeah,” he got out, “I can follow you, as long as you can get me our of this thing. I feel like a cleaning droid.”
The sounds of the man approaching – and his soft cursing - grew louder and Daell used the time to get the ornate opening loose. Soon, a very dusty, very sweaty Cael fell to the floor in front of her. “Hey. Lianna won't like what you did to your costume,” she said, eyeing the state of his clothes.
Cael stretched, feeling his bones ache from the cramped journey through the ventillation system. He gave a series of coughs as he brushed the dust away from his face, looking down as his costume. It was caked in a layer of grime and dirt from the crawl, and there were a few rips now. “Had to make a quick disappearance,” he said. “Fortunately, Zara was using the right interface, so I knew the workarounds. I should now be able to get in from the outside.”
Daell helped him clean, her hands quick and sure on him and she had to chuckle at the resigned look in his face when she spit in her hand to erase a stubborn mark on his face. “Sorry, Cael. I don’t think you could go back to the ball like this, it’ll raise too many questions.”
Truth be told, Cael found the entire process more amusing than anything else, when the relief hit him. He had done it! He had managed to break in to one of the most secure rooms on Vorgrell, slice the mainframe, install two different backdoors, and then escape. Getting back to the party and concealing his absence would them walk right out of there. “Thanks, Daell. Look, just thought you should know... when I was going through... the security around the dance hall looks normal. But I passed a large group of Zara's guards. They were talking about waiting for the word to go in to the main hall.”
Her hand froze and she frowned. “Did they mention anything about the Duke?” she asked. “Do you think it’s because of that?” She hadn’t seen Corin during the night, but she knew he was inside. They had developed a complicate system of giving and receiving messages while inside the palace, and his message for “I'm in” had been perfectly clear. If the guards were just waiting for word, she should send another message.
Cael scratched under his chin. It could make sense, but then, Daell had told him about Zara's involvement in the Coup. She could be preparing something else, and they hadn't exactly been clear. “Don't know,” he finally said. “Some of them were getting a little impatient.” Then something clicked. “Corrin... he's in? He's here, now?”
“Yeah, he’s in.” she raised her hand to prevent his questions. “Not to play avenger, just surveying security measures. However, I'm convinced the whole purpose of this ball is to get him…” She grimaced, “couldn’t convince the man not to come, unfortunately.”
Cael swore. Corrin was doing something incredibly stupid beyond all measure, not that his plan was any more intelligent. If the entire purpose was to get him, they might already know he was there. “Tell him to abort, it's too dangerous. I'm going to find Lianna and get out of here.”
“Not looking like this, you won't.” Daell said, taking a final glimpse at his ruined clothes. He’d call too much attention, more so if the guards were paying special attention. She surveyed him, they were almost level. She was a tall woman, and he wasn’t the most muscular of men, *just well built in all the right places* she said to herself and had to suppress a giggle. “How do you look in red?”
Red? Why was she asking him about he would look in red? The woman must have been... he shook his head in amusement. “No, no, I can't,” he said. “What about you? How would you get out of here?”
Daell giggled, “of course, you missed my dance. Shame on you.” She gave a little turn in her classical Twi’lek dancer’s attire. She enjoyed seeing him get all flushed. “This is all the costume I need. I'm well known in the palace as a dancer, I don’t need my cape and mask to get out of here.”
Cael though for a minute. It might not fit him perfectly, and would probably make him stand out... but it would almost certainly make him stand out less than his now beat-up and ruined costume. She would have more than a few eyes on her in her dancing attire anyway, and he bet that they would be more than willing to let out an alien sooner rather than later. “Alright,” he finally agreed. “Alright, let's do this. Sooner we escape, the better.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Stifling a yawn, Derex wondered just how much longer he was going to stay. In the past, he’d always loved these big parties; all the drinking, dancing… flirting. And what made them great was how they always ended: in his bed with a beautiful noble woman next to him. Lately however, these big soirees just didn’t do it for him. Without the competition from Zayen, Myklos and Corin, picking up ditzy noble girls just didn’t seem as fun.
He had just finished lamenting on the subject when his eyes caught sight of a twirling mass of red silk. *Maybe I thought too soon,* he smiled to himself, already making his way across the dance floor.
Arica stifled a yawn of her own, having long since lost count of how many times she’d had to conceal her increasing ennui. Even her secret mission observing those who spoke to Zod Severus afforded her little excitement anymore, not after being caught out by the Major himself.
“…and after I’ve completed my military service I plan to return home, maybe I’ll even run for public office, or the judiciary perhaps. There’s much profit to be made in both areas, especially when one has the right sort of contacts… which I do, of course…”
Arica nodded and tried to concentrate on the dance. She did love to dance after all, but her enjoyment was greatly diminished thanks to her spiritless partners. Where were all those dashing, enigmatic men from her books? The ones who could dance up a storm and halt a maiden’s heart with one smouldering look.
Internalising a sigh, Arica nodded again as her partner paused for a response. What she wouldn’t give for a little excitement!
Drawing closer, the thief could hardly stop himself from laughing. Derex could tell from the awkward dancing that poor Miss Odari-Mosora was in the clutches of one Krenin Lizus, a young nobleman who’s lacking personality was only outdone by the clumsiness of his two left feet. Thankfully for Arica however, the music was coming to an end and Derex was ready to make his move.
“Excuse me Krenin, may I cut in,” Derex asked; though he had already taken hold of Arica’s hand and flashed her one of his signature devilish smiles.
Krenin snorted scornfully as he was unceremoniously pushed out of the way and his dance partner snatched from under his nose. From behind his mask he glared distastefully at his usurper who had also guessed at his identity, not only was he ill-mannered but crudely out of date with the latest fashion. With another resentful scoff, Krenin turned and departed the dance floor.
“My lord,” said Arica with a barely disguised smile of relief as the young man took her hand and led her in another dance. “How kind of you to come to my rescue, my bruised feet will be forever in your debt, sir.”
“No man of good conscience could stand by and watch that any longer,” he replied, spinning Arica gracefully. The two moved together perfectly, each step complimenting the other’s. Leaning in close, Derex brought his lips to Arica’s ear. “You dance very well milady.”
Arica blushed, her cheeks reddening at the man’s compliment and his warm breath against her bare skin. “Oh, no,” she objected with genuine modesty, lowering her eyes from his penetrating gaze. “I don’t see how that could be in all honesty, I very rarely have the opportunity…” she glanced up, catching a glimpse of the man’s perfect brown eyes before looking away. “That is, I’m not often asked to dance.”
“If that isn’t a testament to how incredibly stupid the majority of these noblemen are, I don’t know what is,” the thief said without a moment’s hesitation.
Derex had charmed his fair share of girls in his relatively short life, but something told him this one was different. Arica had a bewitching allure about her to which she was completely naïve, a fact that made her all the more interesting. The only other woman who ever had this affect on him was Zara, but the two were complete opposites. While the young princess was fierce and uncontrollable, Arica had a soft innocence that was completely unique.
“Want to hear a little secret,” Derex whispered seductively, now letting his lips trail gently across her earlobe. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl at the ball.”
A light intake of breath passed Arica’s lips at the slight contact and she had to tighten her hold on Derex’s hand to stop herself from getting too dizzy. She bit her lower lip uncertainly, wishing that she had more experience in such situations in order to know how to properly respond.
“I…” she whispered breathlessly, feeling the pinch of her corset once again, “I… thank-you for your gracious compliment.”
From across the ballroom, Garim noticed the change in Arica’s posture and moved closer for a better view. She’d also changed dance partners, and while the notoriously clumsy and uncouth Krenin Lizus attempted to woo a young lady by the punch bowl, another, strangely familiar figure held Arica close as they circled the dance floor.
*Thank you for your gracious compliment,* Derex replayed the words in his mind and a huge smile erupted on his face. How refreshingly different she was.
Once again, the music died down only momentarily before once again picking up, this time with a much slower more intimate beat. “Do you want to change dance partners, or would you give me the honour of another dance?”
“The honour would be mine,” Arica replied, smiling shyly, “I’m sure I couldn’t ask for a more skilled partner.”
Weaving his way through the crowds of guests, Garim finally had a clear sight of the young man in Arica’s company. Yes there was something familiar about him and now Garim knew what. The boy had been another of Myklos’ playmates all those years ago and Garim had watched this one in particular for the simple reason that he seemed to get into more scrapes than the others. So… Derex Foxx was also back in Plateau City? Was it merely a coincidence that he appeared at the same time as Corin Archell, or could Mr Foxx also be a part of the plan to foil Zara?
Silently, Garim let himself slip back into the crowds, his view of the young dancers becoming obscured again.
“I’m glad Daell isn’t around to see this. For whatever reason, I got the impression she didn’t approve of me,” Derex fibbed. In reality, he knew why the Twi’lek worried. Derex had a reputation that rivalled Zayen’s when it came to charming women, usually for the sole purpose of getting them into his bed. But this time the thief didn’t have one singly unchivalrous intention.
Arica smiled softly, feeling some of her earlier awkward discomfort slip away as the two of them danced to the slow music. “I have to admit, you’re… not at all how I’d expected. You seem almost like a different person.” Arica smiled again shyly. “Just who are you Derex Foxx?”
Before he realised what he was doing, the words just slipped out of his mouth, “Anyone you want me to be.”
On that note, logic finally got the better of young Mr. Foxx. *Time to leave.* Leaning in, he slowly brought his lips to Arica’s, kissing her lightly for just a second. “Good night Ms. Odari,” he whispered simply, before breaking contact and slipping seamlessly into the crowd.
Arica stood bewildered amongst the other dancing couples, her heart beating furiously. The impression of Derex’s kiss on her lips made her feel warm, almost light headed. But more than that… something that he’d said made her stop in her tracks.
Anyone you want me to be.
“The thief…” she murmured silently, craning her neck a little to try and get a view of Derex’s retreating form – but he was no where to be seen. “It was him.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Oldrak’s eyes followed Arica closely as she wove her way through the crowds. He’d seen her dance with the mysterious figure in black and witnessed the brief kiss that he’d dared to lay upon her lips. Inside he was fuming with quiet hostility and couldn’t help but remember Safi’s warning about not leaving it too long before he made his move.
Emptying his brandy glass in one gulp, he pushed his own way through the crowds on a path to intercept his niece before some other young buck engaged her in yet another dance. It seemed one such man was intending just that as he lay a hand on Arica’s arm. He smiled, introduced himself and was about to ask for the next dance when Oldrak reached them.
“I hate to deprive you of a partner,” he said swiftly, snatching up Arica’s hand possessively, “but Miss Odari-Mosora has more pressing matters to attend to at this moment.”
Arica frowned, much too consumed with thoughts about Derex Foxx and whether he really was the thief she’d encountered so many weeks ago in Bertrayn Palace to worry about her uncle’s abrupt manner. She watched as the young man, so intent upon engaging her in the next dance, slinked away, muttering beneath his breath.
“It’s nothing serious I hope?” she asked her uncle warily, “this pressing matter?”
“Only that I’ve barely had two minutes with you since we arrived. You are causing quite a stir, young lady.” When Arica blushed and bowed her head low, Oldrak laughed, sliding a finger beneath her chin and directing her gaze up to his own.
“Come, come now,” he chided, “at least the first we may rectify now.” Motioning for Arica to take his arm, Oldrak led her out of the ballroom onto one of the balconies overlooking the extensive gardens of Orsiri Castle.
It was a cool Vorgrellian night and a thousand stars peppered the dark skies like powdered sugar. Oldrak smiled, admiring the young girl as she sat herself down on one of the long marble benches at the far end. The dim lamplight softened the smooth contours of her pale skin, giving her an even more angelic appearance if that was possible. He was enraptured with her tonight, filled with lust at her beauty and the response that it had ignited amongst the other young men.
“You are having fun tonight, my dear?”
“Oh… yes… very much,” beamed Arica, though her unease seemed to shine through her smile. With a composed sigh she brushed aside her concerns about Mr Foxx for the moment, she could talk to Captain Moriss about it later, or even Daell if she could manage to find her again.
Returning her focus to her uncle, Arica watched him as he walked the length of the terrace before leaning back against the high stone balustrade that guarded the edge of the balcony. She didn’t want to worry him with her concerns, just as she didn’t want to tell him how all the extra attention that she’d received had been more of a burden than a blessing, besides, there had been some advantages.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked to dance so many times before in my life.”
“A travesty in itself,” smiled Oldrak, “if pretty young girls cannot find partners enough to dance with then there is little hope for the rest of civilisation.”
Arica blushed and redirected her gaze down into her lap. “There were always plenty of partners,” she admitted quietly, “just very few that wished to dance with me.”
“An even greater travesty,” maintained Oldrak, his smile widening. “Such men are not deserving of your attentions, if you were partial to game-playing I should instruct you to refuse every one on principle. Any man that can only see my dear Arica’s worth when she’s wrapped snugly in scarlet satin, surrounded by a flock of admirers and yet flatly ignores her existence when dressed in mere poplin and hidden away in a corner reading a book, does not merit your regard. Why should they have all your dances and smiles?”
“I have not displeased you in accepting them have I?” asked Arica suddenly, her worry-filled brown eyes returning to her uncle’s form. “In wearing this dress perhaps when you had gone to such trouble to order my first? Please know that I did so only to avoid offending the Princess-”
“Oh dearest… You could never displease me,” Oldrak said kindly, sitting down besides her on the marble bench. “Besides, you look too beautiful tonight, what man in his right mind could be displeased with such an angel?”
Oldrak stared lustfully at his niece; his eyes roving across her young, nubile body so perfectly showcased within Zara’s creation. It was the fulfilment of every desire he’d ever hoped to have, and for her to be sat by his side in such… inspiring surroundings – a sky full of stars, the dim flicker of lamplight, soft, sensuous music…
“I must tell you,” he all but panted, taking hold of Arica’s hand tightly, clasping it in both of his. “You must allow me to tell you, how simply exquisite you look in that dress.”
Arica’s cheeks reddened and she bowed her head again. She saw something strange in her uncle tonight, something she’d never seen before. It was like he was a different person somehow, the way he looked at her, so intense and penetrating. The way he was looking at her now… it unnerved her.
“T-thank you, Uncle. I should only ever want to please you.”
“Oh you do,” praised the Baron, Arica’s genuine modesty only further igniting the fire within his loins. She was so pure and innocent, so… virginal. He was almost desperate with the desire to possess her. Removing his half-mask, he set it to one side, then, with meticulous care, he reached out and slipped Arica’s free from her face.
“Dearest,” he murmured softly, lifting her chin up to face him, “oh sweet child, you… you must allow me to kiss you.”
Arica’s brow furrowed in confusion, her uncle had kissed her many times and he’d never asked for permission before. It seemed like such a simple request for him to be so worked up about.
“Of course,” she said quietly, closing her eyes and leaning forward.
Oldrak felt a tremor of pure unadulterated lust shudder through his body. Gently he cupped Arica’s face between both his hands and lay a soft and tender kiss upon her young lips. Oldrak felt her immediately pull back in surprise, but instead of letting her go he found himself holding her tighter, letting one of his hands slide down to her bared shoulder and roughly pull her close again.
A groan escaped his mouth as his lips surrounded Arica’s in a lustful, devouring kiss. The girl writhed and jerked nervously in his arms, trying to break free, her squeals and gasps of fear sounding loud in the stillness of the night. Oldrak grunted with the effort of restraining her, pressing his fingers into the soft vulnerable spot at the base of her neck to hold her in place. Arica gasped again and Oldrak used the moment to thrust his tongue forward, forcing his way inside her mouth and silencing any further protest.
Oldrak felt another surge of pure lust throbbing through his entire body as he held his niece. She tasted so sweet and wholesome, like freshly baked dameapple pie. As he felt the fight drain out of her, he realised how easily he could take her, thrust her down into the foliage and make love to her like a mad, savage beast. He wanted to, more than he’d wanted anything in his life. For two whole years he had waited, when Arica had been nothing more than a fresh-faced sixteen year old barely able to speak in his company. Safi was right, she had blossomed in that time, and he could feel it, feel her modest, yet sufficient womanly curves against his own body.
When Oldrak finally released his niece he was panting hard, breathless with barely controlled desire.
“Oh,” he said, finally coming to his senses as he saw the look of abject horror in Arica’s eyes, filled to the brim with unshed tears. “Oh my dear… I’m so sorry.” He reached out, shocked when Arica recoiled slightly, and cradled her face in both his hands again.
“You must forgive me dearest, you must,” he said sternly, holding on to her with a firm grip. “I was simply… blinded by your beauty tonight.”
Oldrak smiled, injecting warmth into his previously wild expression and forcing some of his usual paternal gentleness into his face. He had been possessed, momentarily insane with desire, but he couldn’t let that destroy all the work he’d put into building a relationship with Arica.
“You know how lonely I am,” he said kindly, “with your Aunt Irina so ill… you have no idea, it is so much harder for a man to be alone.” He stroked her cheek gently, “so much harder when one is surrounded by such a beauty. You have to take some of the blame for that Arica, the way you’re dressed tonight, your every tender touch and kiss torment me.”
Arica pulled away from her uncle’s hold, looking down into her lap. She could barely think of what to say never mind say it - such was her state of absolute shock. It was true, her uncle was a lonely man, that she couldn’t deny. He was a lonely man with a dying wife and a dead son. Maybe… maybe she was the one to blame.
“I…I…” she stammered, her voice taut and strained. “I am s-sorry, if I have caused you any… …suffering. I-It was not my… i-intention.”
“Thank you, my dear,” said Oldrak quietly, still quite overcome with the heat of the moment. He could see how visibly shaken he had left the girl and it pained him. He had hoped, however misguided that hope might have been, that she may have been a little warmed to him by now and that the prospect of him kissing her would not be entirely abhorrent. It seemed he would need Morden’s intervention after all.
Rising stiffly to his feet, Oldrak gave her bare shoulder a light squeeze. “You’re a good girl, Arica,” he praised quietly before withdrawing into the noise of the party.
From behind the heavy set of drapes that framed the balcony’s entrance, Lady Arella drew back with a smirk. She’d witnessed the entire scene. *So Mistress Zara’s instincts were right,* she thought as she watched the randy old baron return to the party. *Shame on you Bertrayn,* she scolded inwardly, her lips bent into another crooked smirk. *Forcing yourself upon your teenage niece and then blaming her… shame upon you indeed.*
Arella silently slipped away amongst the crowds, hardly able to hold back her mirthful laughter. *Oh, Mistress Zara will be pleased.*
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Arica bit her lip hard, holding her emotions in check for as long as her uncle remained in earshot. Once alone though, her composed features crumbled painfully and a sudden, smothered sob of anguish burst from her mouth, expelling her horror. Desperate to hold her feelings in, Arica quickly clamped a hand across her mouth, instantly smothering the sound.
What had happened was so wrong she could barely even think about it, for her uncle to kiss her in such a manner… Of course Arica knew that Oldrak wasn’t her real uncle, but he was as close to one as she’d ever known. She remembered times, barely ten years ago, running around the great rotunda of the Galactic Senate, playing tag with Myklos and the other children. Even then, Oldrak had been the stern-faced and autocratic uncle, always ready to chastise and punish.
Had she done something to provoke him into kissing her in such a manner? Was she to blame as Oldrak had said? Rising to her feet, Arica wandered to the edge of the balcony, leaning over the railing. A strange, cold shiver seemed to enclose her entire body, making her tremble almost uncontrollably while her Aunt Irina's vile condemnations of weeks gone by rang afresh in her ears.
Maybe the entire situation really had been a result of her uncle’s deep and abiding loneliness not to mention the nature of her attire – just as he’d claimed. If she had not been dressed in such a manner she would not have proved such a temptation to a man so deprived of the comforts of his wife. Or perhaps... perhaps she had said something, done something to imply that she had an improper interest… Perhaps her uncle also thought her to be some sort of shameless, brazen wench…
The very idea made her feel ill.
"Milady?"
Arica turned quickly, pressing her back against the railing as Captain Moriss emerged from the shadowy overhang, stepping into the crisp evening starlight.
"I've been looking for you,” he said calmly though his face showed more evidence of worry than he would have liked. “I lost sight of you after your last dance with-“ he stopped himself just before he said the name. Derex Foxx… - that was certainly a face he’d never expected to see again, certainly not in Plateau City. Long gone were the days when the enigmatic Mr Foxx and his friends would stalk the great palace Orsiri in search of their next conquest. Garim had to admit, that when he’d seen the young man dancing with his charge, he’d been more than a little concerned. Foxx in particular had a reputation of seducing many a young lady, and then discarding them once he’d had his fun.
Moving closer, Garim took a better look at the girl. Even from such a distance and in such poor lighting he could see her shivering, her face paler than usual. "Is something wrong?” he asked gently, “you look distressed... why don't you come back inside? It’s cold out here."
"No-" objected Arica sharply, turning away and leaning against the balcony with a sigh. "I just… I want to be on my own."
"No, you don't," said Garim gently as he took another step closer, removing his thick woollen military jacket. “But if you insist on staying out here you should at least wrap up.” Gently he hung the coat, still warm from his own body heat, around Arica’s bare shoulders. His hands lingered there for a moment before he pulled back.
“You know I can’t leave you alone while you’re in such a state. Why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” insisted Arica with a pained whisper. Discreetly she brushed her cheek against the rough edge of Captain Moriss’ coat; it smelled clean and masculine with a faint musky, citrus edge that was Garim’s cologne. Arica breathed the scent in deeply, taking comfort in its familiarity. Once certain she wouldn’t suddenly burst into tears, she turned around to face him again, sighing heavily.
“There’s nothing wrong, please, I just-“
“Yes?”
Arica fell silent as she searched the gentle, handsome contours of Garim’s face, deciding what else to say. She couldn’t tell him about her uncle, that would just make everything so much more real. As it was, she could almost convince herself that it had never happened, that it was just the product of a bad dream and nothing more.
“I… I’m sorry,” she said finally, feeling her heart flutter as Garim’s concerned blue eyes met her own. She liked him so much it almost hurt, if only he would take her into his arms like before and keep her safe forever. “For earlier this evening, you were right, I never should have worn this dress.”
“That’s not what I said,” corrected Garim gently. “I was concerned for you, that was all. For what it’s worth… I…” he sighed. “I think you look very beautiful tonight.”
Arica blushed deeply and looked away. “You really think so?” She shook her head. “I can’t help but feel self-conscious. I’m not really used to this kind of… attention.”
Garim nodded seriously, falling silent. “I have competition for your affections,” he stated finally, clearing his throat. “Seeing you tonight, dancing with all those other men, it made me realise what an idiot I’ve been.” Gently he reached out and pulled the collar of his coat more snugly around Arica’s shoulder, the edge of his hand softly grazing the curve of her cheek.
“Nothing has changed you understand? I know that I still have nothing to offer you and that your father is still very likely to oppose, perhaps even forbid any attachment. You are a Lady after all, and quite possibly far too good and kind and sweet for someone like me.”
Arica frowned, looking up. “What are you saying?”
Garim smiled awkwardly, reaching out for her hand, his broad fingers slowly interlacing with her small delicate ones. Zak was right, though he was loath to admit it. He had to just take a chance, live in the here and now and hope that everything would turn out for the best.
“I was wrong before,” he admitted. “When I said that it was a mistake, my kissing you. I might not have planned for it to happen but it was the single most perfect moment in my entire life. Holding you… kissing you, feeling that you were mine…”
Garim’s fingers continued to gently play across Arica’s. “I’m… falling in love with you Miss Odari-Mosora,” he said quietly. “Surely you’ve known, you must have. No other girl has ever had such an effect on me as you have my dear, sweet Ari.”
He looked steadily into her dark brown eyes, reaching out and gently cradling her cheek in the palm of his hand. “My Ari with the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen… the softest lips… and the gentlest, kindest heart. “You see how hopeless this is? How lost I am?”
“Only if your feelings were not requited,” said Arica softly, “…which they are, most ardently.”
A small smile curled the corner of Garim’s mouth. “You…?”
Arica sighed quietly, closing her eyes and nuzzling her cheek comfortingly against his hand. “Yes…” she murmured dreamily, “yes, yes I do, how could you doubt it for a moment?”
Garim smiled broadly, bringing his other hand up to cradle Arica’s other cheek. He gently stroked his thumbs back across her skin, tilting her face up towards his own. Slowly he lowered his lips until they were barely an inch away from Arica’s, so close that he could breathe in the sweet girlish scent of her, like frill syrup and the millaflowers of his native homeworld. He smiled again.
“I have been thinking about kissing you for days.”
Arica stole a brief glance at Garim from beneath her eyelashes, her breath fast and shallow from the closeness of him. “Thinking can… occasionally be, somewhat… overrated.”
Garim grinned as he closed the gap between them, capturing up Arica’s lips in a gentle yet urgent series of lingering kisses. “I agree.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Lianna pushed aside her worry as she saw Cael making his way through the crowds. She had barely recognise him at first, dressed as he was in the same red hooded outfit that the Twi’lek dancing girl from earlier that evening had been wearing. Lianna frowned, something had obviously happened to warrant such a disguise, but what? Before she could say anything Cael spoke in a hurried yet low voice.
“We have to get out of here. The Hall is lined with troops waiting to come in.”
Lianna raised an eyebrow, quickly scanning the exits. How had he managed to get that kind of information when she’d barely been able to disentangle herself from any of the various noblemen long enough to get anything done? Either Cael had benefited from some inside help or he had hidden talents that she’d not yet encountered.
“You managed to reach it?”
“Yeah, it’s done.” Cael glanced in the direction of a figure who appeared to be heading in their direction. Lianna turned to follow the path of his gaze, immediately recognising her as the Duchess companion of Baron Bertrayn. What was her name again? Sarita? Sarifta?
*At least I remembered her rank.*
With a jerk of her head, Lianna turned to Cael to lead him away.
“Oh, Countess!” called out Safita as she hastened towards the couple. She had seen the Twi’lek whore approach the lady from across the hall and immediately sensed that she may need some assistance. If nothing else it would surely win her favour with Oldrak who had seemed to take a shine to the apparent ingenue.
Lianna relaxed her jaw consciously, having only noticed her teeth grinding against each other. She gave him a quick shove, and got Cael moving towards the door. “Ah, my lady,” she forced a smile, noting a slight flicker of distrust as it became apparent that a human was under the red cape. Uh oh. One of her hands hung lazily next to her gown.
“I'm so sorry,” she tried to say quickly, “but I must be leaving. I just received word of a family emergency, my mother has fallen ill.”
“Oh, how terrible,” Safita remarked, keeping pace with the two as they headed swiftly towards the exit. Her eyes silently observed the Twi’lek as she moved – with none of the ease and grace of her species but instead with a lumbering, clumsy gait that appeared entirely masculine. Safita frowned suspiciously, her eyes wandering down to floor and catching a glimpse of a pair of boots beneath the swirling fabric of the Twi’lek’s robe instead of the smooth crimson feet of the lethan whom had entertained them earlier.
The Duchess scowled, raising her gaze to the cloaked figure that appeared to be as much a Twi’lek as she herself was. There was obviously something going on, and this faux noble Countess Salina of Onderon appeared to be a part of it.
“Allow me to offer some assistance,” Safita purred haughtily as she grasped hold of the woman’s wrist with a strength that seemed inappropriate for a lady of her age.
It took a great deal of effort to fight down the urge to strike the noble woman. Between her tone and the strength of the grip, Lianna thought that the other woman had to have figured out that something was going on. Dropping her voice, she heard an edge come unbidden to it. “My lady, I'm sorry, but I must leave immediately.”
Lianna pulled her hand free, turning to leave, before the noble deftly moved in front of her again. Reflexively, her body fell into a stance from one of the early Echani forms she studied, before forcing herself out of it, transforming it into a curtsy. “My apologies.”
Safita recoiled, whoever this woman was, she was no countess and her companion was obviously an impostor in disguise. They could be thieves or pickpockets, perhaps they were even assassins sent to finish the job on Princess Orsiri!
As the couple hurried away, the duchess signalled to one of her personal guards, waving them in the direction of the two intruders.
The pair moved as quickly and efficiently as it was possible in the crowded room. Having personal guards of one of the nobility of Vorgrell following her was not exactly what she had in mind when planning the evening, either.
No, that was a simple in and out procedure. Could Cael have been any more conspicuous?
A hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. Face to face with one of the guards, Lianna reacted without thinking, bringing her fist around to strike him in the side of the head. It put him off-balance momentarily, drawing the attention of local members of the party. Bringing her knee up into the guard's stomach, she grabbed his blaster as he doubled over, firing two shots randomly into the air, watching the confusion as the other guests had their own guards move to protect them.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
Having returned again to the second level, Corin observed the crowd, happy that he had not been detected by anyone. Not that it would matter, really. With his face mask there was very little chance of his cover being blown. Indeed, he had spent most of the evening circulating the attendants – dropping hints here, judging allegiances there.
But he liked standing up here. He liked distancing himself from Vorgrell’s nobility, reminding himself, even, that theirs was a world he was no longer a part of. It had been so easy to slip back into it that Corin needed moments like these. Moments to keep an eye on Zara and to reflect.
What Corin had learned was both encouraging and troubling at the same time. There was some growing discontentment amongst Vorgrell’s nobility, both with Zara and with the Empire. This miner affair had stirred up a lot of disgruntlement. There was nothing too big there yet, nothing he could actively use against Zara, but it spoke of promise for the future. At the same time, Corin was concerned over how it would develop. The Empire was already tightening the noose around Vorgrell. They didn't need more of an excuse.
Corin’s attention was drawn away from his thoughts as a disturbance developed in the hall. He cursed as he caught sight of Daell’s costume – damn that Twi’lek, she was going to get him killed – and watched with growing horror as things moved from bad to worse. Corin had seen her perform earlier, much to his own displeasure. She was there against his will – nothing he had to say had changed her mind – but if something could be said about Daell it was that she had her own agenda too. She probably was up to something which she had neglected to tell him about. Then again, he hadn’t been too open about his own actions, either.
When blaster fire ripped through the hall Corin had already started moving before he forcibly stopped himself. He had spent too long keeping a low profile after the Inquisitor business to blow it all now. No, as much as he wanted to help, he had to stay out of it as much as possible. Jumping in right now with blaster blazing would do no more than get him killed.
*Daell can take care of herself. If she can’t…I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.*
He kept his hand on his concealed Merr-Sonn Power5 and watched.