CHAPTER EIGHT
"Moff Lecersen?" The Imperial officer, flanked by a stormtrooper squad, knocked on the door to his superior's room. "There's been a commotion going on in the ball room. Are you all right?"
The door opened to reveal a tall, gray-haired man, adorned in the tightly-cut uniform most highly-ranked Imperials were accustomed to.
"What sort of commotion?" Drikl Lecersen asked.
"A gas grenade- or multiple ones- went off in the air vents and clouded the room," the officer said. "We've escorted them to safety outside and went up here to check on you."
"Well, we are all fine here," Lecersen said, gesturing to himself and his guests: Prince Xalren, Senator Bramsin, and an Imperial general.
The officer nodded curtly. "Very well. In that case, we shall go to investigate the incident."
"Just one moment," the Moff said, stopping the younger man. "Beg my pardon, but I don't recall ever seeing your face around here. What is your name?"
The officer smiled thinly. "Lieutenant Kal Berri."
Lecersen's brow furrowed. "I know the name of all my security personnel here, and I do not know that one."
"As well you shouldn't," the lieutenant said, stepping into the room unbidden with the rest of his squad. One of the stormtroopers closed the door behind them and locked it.
"What is the meaning of this?" Lecersen demanded.
"To tell you the truth, 'Kal Berri' isn't my real name," the lieutenant said, ignoring the Moff. "Tell me, have you seen any holo-dramas? Such as The Black Bantha? Or Win or Die?"
"Yes, but why should it matter?"
A look of mock indignation appeared on the officer's face. "Why should it matter? Why, I was the star of those productions. My name is Garik Loran."
As Lecersen's eyes widened, the lieutenant and his stormtrooper raised their blasters at him.
"And in the name of the Galactic Alliance, I'm going to put you under arrest."
-Ten years ago-
Kadar awoke groggily, the room spinning around him. After blinking several times, he cleared his vision and looked around. The first think he noticed was that he was strapped to a table in some sort of lab. Laying on a separate table next to his, still unconscious, was Corda. There was no sign of Orde and Tessa.
"I see that you are awake."
Startled, Kadar looked up to see Banvor staring down at him. Scowling, the Mandalorian spat at him. Banvor did not flinch.
"I am sorry to disappoint you, but your saliva will not make a useful DNA source," the Skakoan said coolly. He moved away from the Mandalorian and towards a set of large viewscreens. "The point is moot anyway; I have already done to you what I pleased."
"And what would that be?" Kadar asked spitefully.
"I have replaced seventy-five percent of your body with prosthetic and mechanical replacements, effectively turning you into a cyborg."
Kadar snorted, unfazed by this revelation. "And what purpose does that serve? Do you want your own Darth Vader?"
"You are a step above Vader," Banvor said, not turning to face him. "Unlike Vader, there is less than zero chance of you turning against me... or your new master."
Appearing on the center viewscreen was a green-skinned Falleen, dressed in elaborate black and violet robes. "Is the experiment a success, Banvor?"
"Yes, Prince Xalren," the Skakoan said. "We have successfully converted Kadar to Black Sun's cause."
"That's a load of fierfek," Kadar snapped. "Number one: Black Sun is yesterday's news. Number two: there is no way you have converted me already."
"Wrong, on both accounts." Banvor strode over to Corda. He did not touch her, but Kadar was nonetheless infuriated and wrestled against his restraints.
"It would be quite the shame if your loving wife were to wake up and instantly be informed of your... unabridged past," the scientist muttered. "How do you think she'll feel when she finds out that her wonderful husband... is the sole heir of the clan whose her's despises."
Kadar bristled. "What do you mean?"
The Falleen on the screen laughed. "Don't play coy. You are fully aware of your heritage... Ziar Vizsla."
The name triggered a series of memories Kadar had no desire to remember. Feeling his anger well up, he acted without thinking. Breaking free from his restraints, he lunged at Banvor and collided into the scientist. He then began to pummel the Skakoan, pounding his fists into his face and tearing apart his pressure suit. After a while, Banvor suddenly stopped moving.
Snapping away from his mindless frenzy, Kadar turned to the viewscreen and pointed an accusatory finger at Prince Xalren.
"This is all on you!" the Mandalorian bellowed. "When I find you- and I will- you will regret having ever done this to me!"
The Falleen simply smiled. "I'm counting on that." His emerald visage then visage vanished.
Forgetting his anger, Kadar rushed over to Corda and freed her from her restraints. "Wake up, cyar'ika," he said softly. "You're safe now. Please, wake up."
She did not move.
Kadar felt tears threatening to burst from his eyes. "Corda?" He stroked her red hair. "Wake up."
He froze when he touched her skin. It was cold. Instinctively, he checked for a pulse. There was none.
Very few people could claim that they had ever seen a Mandalorian cry. And one of those very few had just died....
-Present-
Kadar fell silent after finishing his tale. Jesmin mulled over it, for it had now given her a better grasp on what Kadar had been through and who he was. Even so, she did not know what to say.
She was soon deprived of the chance when Mal Banvor reemerged from his quarters. She feigned unconsciousness again as the large Skakoan strode right past her and returned to his pilot seat. She then peered through her eyelids to watch him bring the ship out of hyperspace.
The planet that greeted them was definitely not Metalorn. Jesmin's eyes widened at what planet it was instead. Why is he bringing us here? she wondered.
They had arrived at Coruscant.
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