Star Wars Eye of Kaas: The Dragon's Claw, Part III

THE DRAGON'S CLAW, PART III

    Black eyes nearly bulged from their sunken sockets. A large, three-fingered hand clumsily removed the hookah pipe lodged into the Chevin's low-hanging jaw.

    "Dead? What do you mean he's dead?"

    An exasperated look crossed the face of the holographic woman in front of him. Her own eyes rolled as she said, "His droid self-destructed, killing him and destroying the cantina we were in."

    "You're sure he's dead? I mean, you obviously survived...."

    "Yes. Because I ran. I hear a ticking bomb and I run. Typical survival trait."

    "Don't get snarky with me, human." Returning the pipe to his mouth, the Chevin took another puff before removing it again. "So you still have the artifact?"

    "Yes. The two Blarinas never showed up anyway."

    "So let me get this straight: Malvis hired you to get this artifact, but instead of getting it yourself, you hire a down-on-its-luck criminal 'empire' to hire rowdy pirates to get the artifact to trade with no-name Blarinas to get whatever it was they were selling." The Chevin waved a hand wildly to express his disbelief, since he was unable to shake his head. "Maybe the smoke's getting to me, but that makes no sense."

    "The artifact was in the hands of a Hutt. I thought the Cabal wanted as little direct interaction with them as possible."

    "That might be how Alazar did things, but not Hahgalor Mos!" The Chevin banged on his sidetable to emphasize his point, though all it did was knock the jar he was smoking from to the ground. It shattered into a million pieces, covering the stone floor with glass and liquid intoxicants. While Chev servants scrambled to clean up the mess, Hahgalor proceeded as if nothing had happened.

    "I do not fear those spineless slugs!" he declared boldly. "If it were me calling the shots, I'd have stormed that Hutt's palace and turn the whole place on its head while I bashed his!"

    "Yes, I'm sure your method would have been far more efficient," Valrisa said dryly. "Anyway, going back to the subject of Alazar...."

    "What about him? He's dead now, isn't he? Good riddance to him, I say."

    "So you're not the least bit concerned that a droid of his self-destructed without warning?"

    "Bah!" Hahgalor snorted. "Wouldn't surprise me if he crossed a couple of wires wrong, being the idiot that he is. Was."

    "Really?" Valrisa smirked, arching an eyebrow. "You do know that all droids used by the Cabal were made or supplied by Alazar, right?"

    Hahgalor blinked. "Wait, really?" Muting the comm, he looked over to one of his Chev servants, standing to his right. "Brophar, do we have any droids?"

    "Yes, master," replied the pale-skinned humanoid. "At present, we have approximately seventy battle droids, fifty-five--"

    "I don't care how many we have," Hahgalor snarled. "I just want to know if they were from Alazar!"

    Brophar thought for a moment. "Well, the last few shipments have been from Altech Industries rather than Talavos Corporation--"

    Relief washed over Hahgalor's elongated features. "Ah, good!"

    "Except--"

    Ignoring the servant, the Chevin returned his attention to Valrisa's hologram. "Not to worry, human. All of my droids have been from my own vendors."

    "Well, that's a relief," Valrisa said, not at all sounding relieved. "However, that still leaves thousands of droids being used by the Cabal susceptible to spontaneous destruction."

    "Ah, I'll pass it along." Next to Hahgalor, his servants had replaced the broken hookah and he eagerly went in for another puff, the smoke emitting from his large nostrils as he exhaled. "And the artifact? What do you plan on doing with that?"

    "Depends. I'm currently looking for the highest bidder on it. You're welcome to weigh in yourself."

    Hahgalor took a moment to think. "Eh. Why not? I've got extra room in my dungeon."

    Valrisa nodded. "Great. The auction will be on Ord Talavos in two days."

    "I'll be there."

    Once the hologram fizzed out of existence, Hahgalor looked over to Brophar, who was quaking in his boots. "What?" the Chevin growled. "What's gotten you all worked up?"

    "M-master," the Chev stuttered. "Altech Industries is a subsidiary of Talavos Corporation."

    "Yeah? Lots of companies are. We've got dozens of subsidiaries."

    "But, master... Vasim Alazar was CEO of Altech Industries when it joined."

    Hahgalor's mouth hung open, the hookah pipe still hooked around it. "Is he... was he still CEO when he died?"

    "No, he passed the company off to a Gossam named Xiri Gan. However, all droids produced by them are based off his blueprints."

    Rage and confusion warped the Chevin's features. "Why didn't you tell me?" he bellowed.

    "I tried to--"

    "Bah!" Pushing Brophar aside, Hahgalor descended from his throne. "Inchef! Afree! Find all of the droids in the vicinity and shut them down before they blow up or... or... whatever."

    As the two servants scrambled away, he then turned back to Brophar. "Contact Altech Industries immediately," he said in a low rumble. "I need to get to the bottom of this."

--Elsewhere--

    The ship had landed ten feet away, having braved the storms to reach its destination. Rain glistened from its black hull as a ramp lowered and hooded figures began pouring out.

    Lyra Voran inhaled sharply. She saw him among the seven approaching; even through the rain and his hood, she could not mistake his features. She had hoped that it would not come to this; that he would not betray them like this.

    This was not the father she knew.

    Through the Force, she heard her mother's voice. Your father is gone, dear. Consumed by the dark side.

    Do we not follow the dark side as well? Lyra responded.

    Follow, yes. But not bow. We let it lead us, guide us, but not control us like many before. We are stronger than most Sith. Your father, it would seem, is not.

    Tears rolled down her blue cheeks. I don't want to do this.

    You must, her mother insisted. It is your destiny. We must protect our knowledge from men like the one he now follows.

    Why didn't you destroy it? Like Lady Sedriss asked?

    That, her mother did not answer. Instead, she simply said: Go, my daughter. Defend our honor. Protect the future of the Sith.

    With that, the voice of Lady Saarai fell silent. Taking a deep breath, Lyra wiped the tears from her eyes and stepped out into the rain.

*  *  *

    The Sith Temple of Jaguada laid straight ahead. Made from the ruins of a fortress built by Darth Gravid over six hundred years ago, the temple served as a safehouse for the holocrons and relics acquired by the Sith Order of Sedriss. While not complete, its collection of Sith artifacts would prove useful to Darth Krayt's budding empire.

    Only one person stood in the way between the Sith and their destination, and Mar Voran could see her standing in the rain up ahead.

    He almost couldn't believe it; the fact that his wife would throw their daughter at seven dangerous Sith like this. Then again, Lady Saarai had always put her library before family. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised.

    Standing right behind him, he heard Naaro Viin rasp into his ear. "Who is that, Voran?"

    Voran stared at the young Chagrian woman that awaited them. "No one," he murmured.

    "She is a fool to think she can take us all on her own," growled Haarkon Dak.

    "Indeed," cooed a stringy-haired female Sith. "Shall I be the one to kill her, Voran?"

    Voran said nothing as the Sith got closer to the temple. It took all of his will to hold his daughter's gaze as the seven Sith came to a stop before her. 

    A long silence passed between the two parties, the only sound being the rain that poured upon them. When no one made a move, Voran decided then to speak.

    "Lyra," he said carefully. "Please, let us pass."

    "No," she replied firmly.

    Voran's expression darkened. "You don't know what you're dealing with. You are not strong enough to defeat us all."

    "I know," Lyra said, her voice softer this time.

    Voran stared at her. Try as he might, he could not put any more force into his words. When he spoke, they almost sounded pleading. "Step aside now or we will destroy you."

    Lyra spread her arms wide. "Destroy me then."

    Before Voran had a chance to react, Haarkon pushed past him and strode up to Lyra, savage glee in his eyes. Unhooking his lightsaber from his belt, he ignited its scarlet blade and raised it above his head.

    All those present waited for him to bring the blade down. Seconds passed by. Then minutes. Still Haarkon did not move.

    The brutish Sith frowned in confusion. "Why can't I--"

    "Bend," Lyra said.

    Without warning, Haarkon was lifted up into the air, screaming as his body twisted in unnatural ways. The others watched on in awe and horror, some even backing away. Voran's mouth hung open in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing.

    Did Myna teach her this? he wondered.

    He was soon distracted from his thoughts by Haarkon's increasing screams. Feeling the others' eyes on him, he forced himself to act.

    Activating his lightsaber, he delivered a quick cut to Lyra's midsection. Haarkon immediately fell to the ground as Lyra lost her hold on him. Crumpling to the ground, Lyra raised her tear-brimmed eyes to Voran.

    "Mother was right," she coughed. "You are truly gone."

    Voran frowned at her. "Your mother doesn't understand--"

    "No. She doesn't. And neither do I." Lyra coughed again, her breathing becoming more erratic. "I don't think... anyone can under... understand why you fell. Not... not even you."

    With that, Lyra took in a sharp intake of breath... then went still.

    Voran gazed upon the motionless body of his daughter, dozens of emotions raging within him. He forgot everything else around him -- the rain, the Sith, the temple -- and instead stared at his handiwork; the culmination of his fall; the result of his servitude to Darth Krayt.

    Had it been worth it? Was this really the man he wanted to be? What else would he have to sacrifice in the name of his new master?

    From behind him, Naaro and the others began moving into the temple. 

    He had a feeling he would get his answers before long.

*  *  *

    It could never be said that the Sith did not have a taste for the arts.

    Composed by Lord Myskos, the Ballad of Darth Maestus told the story of a Dark Lord who led a very sad, melancholy life. Unlike other Dark Lords, Darth Maestus did not rule over anyone. Instead, he lived alone in his quaint library, surrounded by books rather than people.

    Lady Saarai felt she could relate to that story; not just because she lived in what was essentially a library of Sith artifacts, but also because she was, in many ways, a sad old woman who lived alone.

    Sure, she had a family, but it hadn't done her any good. Even in her previous life, when she was Myna Tasseva, she preferred to spend her days deep within the Jedi archives rather than train or spend time with her peers.

    When she married Mar Voran, and with him had Lyra, she had thought it would be the start of a new chapter in her life; turning over a new leaf. Yet here she was, exactly where she had been eighteen years ago: Alone and surrounded by books.

    She had already long accepted this to be her fate, just like Darth Maestus had. And just like Maestus, she was about to meet her doom at the hands of those whom she had once trusted.

    Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if Lord Myskos had been a seer and had predicted her future through the creation of Darth Maestus, who of course had never existed. Their stories were eerily similar.

    However, unlike Darth Maestus, she did not plan on dying without leaving some sort of mark. While there was nothing she could do to prevent her collection from falling into the intruders' hands, she could still at least leave something to remember her by.

    The amulet of Jarak Null pulsated against her chest, eager to be unleashed. As the last few notes of Lord Myskos' masterpiece played out, Saarai gripped the amulet and backed herself away from the door.

    I'm sorry, Mar.

    Footsteps thundered from outside. She could hear the sound of lightsabers being ignited.

    I'm sorry it had to end like this.

    The door fell open with little effort and she threat the amulet to the ground, bathing the room in red....