INTERLUDE
One would have been forgiven for mistaking a planet like Hosnian Prime for Coruscant. Once an unremarkable industrial world during the days of the Old Republic, it had quickly expanded into a cosmopolitan ecumenopolis under the rule of the Empire and in the close-to-four decades that had passed since the formation of the New Republic. As one of the first worlds to join the New Republic, it had been a valued member of the Senate and even briefly served as the Republic’s capital during the administration of Chief of State Lanever Villecham while Coruscant was under repairs from the effects of the Imperial Sith War. Even to this day, there were whispers of such a move happening again as the political climate of the Galactic Alliance shifted into chaos.
Whatever the outcome was, it was of little concern to Vixen. Regardless of whatever government ended up in charge of the galaxy and where they decided to make their nest, it did not change who she worked for and what she did for them. If there was anything that was constant in the universe, it was that.
The streets of Darropolis were deserted for the most part, save for the type of beings who liked to hang around conspicuously as soon as the sun went down. As an attractive woman who tended to wear small or tight clothing, she was used to the leering gazes of various males (and even females) from those who dwelt in the shadows of street lamps. But they never made any move to pursue or corner her, especially once they saw the creature that followed in her trail.
The Xylini moved like a serpentine shadow, coiling around any object it found in its path. Some may have mistaken it for an Anacondan or some other kind of snake, but the presence of two long horns protruding from the creature’s skull as well as its multitude of limbs — legs which could double as arms depending on how far up it extended itself when standing — would have debunked such presumptions. Between its unusual appearance and the unsettling, face-splitting grin that was a permanent fixture on its chalk-white face, its mere presence in proximity to Vixen was enough to dissuade any wannabe assailants.
As Vixen neared her destination, which was a nondescript residential building, the Xylini slithered ahead of her before extending upward to loom over her.
“I trust that you will have good news to deliver, yes?” the Xylini said, pinpricks of purple lighting up in its empty black eyes.
Vixen avoided his gaze. “I do,” she said firmly.
“Good, good. I would hate to see what ill fate would befall you if you did not.”
Vixen rolled her eyes but said nothing as she rapped her fist on the door to the residence. A few minutes passed before a small slit slid open, revealing a pair of glowing yellow eyes.
“Password,” came the snarled request.
“The mynock has no wings,” Vixen replied.
The slit closed shut. A few seconds later, the door slid open and Vixen quickly stepped into the barely lit hallway that laid belong, the Xylini following her closely. At the end of the hallway was a second door which opened on its own as soon as the pair neared it. On the other side was a small room occupied by a single table, a pile of datapads stacked on top of it. Sitting at the table was a lonely Pa’lowick, who lifted his eyes from the datapad he had been reading.
“Ah, Vixen. Just on time.” Sal Orbego set down his device and interlaced his long fingers together. “How was your visit with Senator… what was his name again? Bramsin. Fost Bramsin.”
“It was to die for,” Vixen said coolly. “The custodians should be finding his body in the storage closet any minute now, if they haven’t already.”
The lips on the end of Orbego’s long proboscis twitched into a smile. “Delightful. And I trust that you were able to obtain enough information against Senator Xiono should he attempt to finger us as the culprits.”
Vixen smirked. “More than enough, actually. I just so happened to catch him being… particularly friendly with the Senator of Glee Anselm. It would sure be a shame if his wife were to find out about that.”
“A terrible shame indeed. Excellent work, as always.” Orbego cleared his throat before reaching again for the datapad he had been reading. “Anyway, I have new orders for you. Coming straight from the top.”
“Already? Feels like I’ve just started here.”
“Yes, well, things are being expedited a tad ahead of schedule. Nothing too drastic, thankfully. Just shifting things up a day or so on the calendar.”
Despite his words, Vixen could tell in his voice that Orbego was more than a bit put off to this schedule change. As Malvis’ chief adviser and bookkeeper, the Pa’lowick was incredibly strict about deadlines and details that were otherwise trivial in the grand scheme of things. Everything had to be absolutely perfect, and if something was set in stone, then it was set in stone for good. There was no changing it… unless Malvis changed it as he pleased, in which case Orbego could not say anything to object to the crime boss’ decision nor do anything to change his mind. All he could do was pretend that it didn’t bother him (even though it did) and just go with the flow.
It was honestly both amusing and sad to watch when witnessing it all play out on the trunk-nosed alien’s face.
Clearing his throat, Orbego continued. “You are to return to Coruscant and carry out your assignments there. Instructions will be transmitted to you as soon as you land there.”
“You can’t give them to me now?” Vixen asked.
“This particular assignment is extremely high-risk,” Orbego said pointedly. “High-risk and low profile. Failure to properly execute your assignment will result in your own execution. This is the ‘Big One,’ as they say. At least for you.”
Vixen’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I would have though what I’ve been doing here is already pretty ‘big.’ Assassinating and blackmailing senators in order to sow confusion and chaos between all of the parties in the Senate? That’s galaxy-wrecking stuff in and of itself.”
“Yes, well….” Orbego tapped his fingers on his datapad, a nervous tic Vixen often saw from him. “This one goes above and beyond that. Again, you will know the full details as soon as you reach Coruscant. Just keep in mind that… Malvis could have chosen literally any of his other operatives for this assignment. Literally anyone.”
Vixen allowed herself a smile as she gently ran a hand through her dark violet hair. “Yet he chose me. I’m flattered.”
“I’m being serious, Vixen. To be given an assignment as important as this one from Malvis himself is one of the highest of honors in the Cabal. Should you manage to pull this off, there will be a handsome reward and a large promotion in your future. Many of the crime lords may even be envious of you.”
“You’re just hyping this up to make sure I do a good job,” Vixen chided him. “I’m sure as soon as I get there, it’ll turn out to just be a pickup of some takeout dinner that Malvis ordered.”
Orbego laughed uneasily. “Trust me, you’ll wish it was that.”
“We’ll see,” Vixen said before turning on her heel as she started to walk for the exit.
“Good luck,” the Xylini called after her, still lurking in the shadows. “You’re going to need it.”
Vixen did not indulge the creature with a response or even so much as a glance as she continued to walk out.
* * *
As soon as the door had closed behind Vixen, Sal Orbego heard a beeping sound go off. His eyes drifted to a holo-projector that was situated in the corner of the room and saw a small light flashing. He let out a sigh as he beckoned for the Xylini to switch the device on. The creature obliged and within moments Sal Orbego was staring at the life-sized holographic figure of an older woman wearing an elegant white and red dress. Her nose immediately wrinkled in disgust as her eyes fell upon the Pa’lowick.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“I’m sorry, did you input the wrong hailing frequency?” Orbego shot back. “Who were you expecting to see when you called?”
“I was expecting Malvis himself,” the Dowager of Sedratis replied, sticking her chin up. “I thought this was his personal comm channel.”
“It is. I just happen to be using it while he’s off running errands.” Orbego interlaced his fingers together and brought them up to his proboscis. “Now, what is it I can help you with?”
The Dowager huffed. “If you must know, I had something of importance to report to Malvis. However, I would rather deliver it to him specifically rather than to his lackey.”
Orbego refrained from rolling his eyes. “Suit yourself. If that will be all, then—”
“However,” she interjected, “since you’re here, I must ask: Has any progress been made in locating my daughter?”
“Your daughter?” Orbego asked. He knew who she was referring to, but decided to feign ignorance.
“Malvis had told me that he would send some of his agents to locate her after her involvement in the death of Hahgalor Mos,” the Dowager elaborated. “I’ve already sent agents of my own, but I was hoping to hear if any progress had been made by Malvis’ own.”
“I’ll have to check,” Orbego said, though he had absolutely no intention of doing so. Although the Dowager was one of the top crime bosses of the Cabal, that did not mean he had to indulge her with her petty family drama. Unless locating her daughter was part of the Cabal’s overall agenda (which it wasn’t as far as he knew), then he was under no obligation to help her in her “quest.”
“See that you do,” the Dowager said haughtily. “The sooner she is found and apprehended, the sooner I can rest easily.”
“Yeah, sure thing. Will that be all?”
Sareth Valrisa said nothing as her holographic figure shimmered away. Orbego rolled his eyes as far back as they could go as he slumped in his chair.
“I really loathe that woman.”
“Are you going to check for her?” asked the Xylini.
Orbego groaned. “Well, gee, I guess now I have to,” he said, glaring at the creature as he reached for one of the stacks of datapads on his desk. “If only so I don’t have to listen to you nag at me.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” the Xylini said with that uncanny grin of his.
Grumbling to himself, the Pa’lowick dug out a datapad and switched it on. Before he could begin to read it, the holo-projector beeped again.
“Oh, for stars’ sake!” Orbego moaned. Without even needing to be told by him, the Xylini switched the device back on and another holographic figure materialized in the room. This time it was a different woman, one dressed in an elegant pirate outfit and wearing a fearsome mask over their face. Orbego recognized her as the self-proclaimed “Queen” Kestora, ruler of the Veiled Sorority and one of the Cabal’s most recently acquired members.
“Your Elegant Highness,” Orbego said, not really caring if he was getting the “formal” title correct or not. “How may I be of service?”
“I would like you to field a message to the Dowager Sareth of Sedratis,” Queen Kestora replied. “I would have contacted her personally, but she refuses to accept my calls for whatever reason.”
Orbego was aware that Sareth preferred to keep to herself and often refused to interact with any of the other Cabal leaders. Although Kestora was not yet quite of that tier in the Cabal’s hierarchy, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Sareth nonetheless thought of her that way.
Letting out a sigh, he said, “I’ll see what I can do. What’s your message?”
The pirate queen beckoned to someone out of range of whatever holocam she was using to record herself. She then reached over and dragged a shackled woman into view. The young human had long dark hair and equally dark eyes that were narrowed in indignation.
“Tell her to meet me on Ord Mantell,” Kestora said, “and that I have her daughter.”
With that, the image of the pirate queen and her prisoner vanished as soon as it had appeared, leaving Orbego to stare in the space where it had been, the mouth on the end of his proboscis hanging open.
“Well,” the Xylini cackled, “if that isn’t the mother of all coincidences, then I don’t know what is.”
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