CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Worlport, Ord Mantell
“—a statement during a press conference on Hypori, stating that a committee would be formed to investigate the mysterious disappearances and other events surrounding droids produced by Altech Industries’ factories.”
“Turn it off,” Ramun grunted, not looking up from the astromech head he was taking apart.
Leaning as far back in her chair as it would allow, Nema swung her head around to look at the old Duros, her blue lekku drooping over her chest. “Why?”
“It’s just the same old crap. You’re gonna rot your brain by watching that fodder during your break. You’re better off reading a holobook or something.”
“Like those trashy romance novels you yelled at me last week for?” Nema asked, smiling coyly.
“Even those are better than that,” Ramun said, gesturing at the viewscreen on which the HoloNet report was still playing. “Seriously, turn it off now or I’m docking your pay.”
The Twi’lek did as he asked but continued to stare at him. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned about what’s happening with all these droids turning on and abducting people?”
“Why should I? Altech’s the only ones whose products it’s been happening to. I don’t work for them and they don’t operate here on Ord Mantell. We’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Nema frowned. “Sounds like somebody’s in denial.”
“Sounds like somebody needs to get back to work.”
Taking the hint, Nema jumped out of her seat and headed off into the workroom in the back of the shop, picking up her trusted hydrospanner along the way. Once she was gone, Ramun was left alone at the front of the store, still tinkering with the astromech’s head as blissful silence took over. It was days like these that he came close to considering cutting off connection to the HoloNet entirely, though it kept customers quiet while they waited for their droid to be repaired. Thankfully, there weren’t any customers at the moment to pester him with their attitudes or that obnoxious HoloNet of theirs, allowing him to work in peace and quiet.
That peace and quiet was quickly disturbed when his comlink went off. Sighing loudly to himself, he set down his tools and roughly unclipped the communicator device from his toolbelt, raising it to his mouth.
“Thank you for calling Ramun’s Repairs. How may I help you?”
“Hey, Ramun, it’s Kyla,” a familiar voice responded.
Ramun’s red eyes blinked in surprise. He and Kyla Kishanti went way back, having met the Mirialan while she had been working with Espinar’s exploration program. Her life had taken a downward turn shortly before the Glorian War, when the Lok Revenants had attacked Espinar and killed many members of the program. Her brother had been among the pirate attackers, something which Ramun knew had to have been heartbreaking for Kyla. Since then, Ramun had remained in touch with Kyla, doing what he could to help her stay on track and not go down the same path of despair that had already consumed her brother.
“Kyla? By the stars, it’s been a while. Haven’t seen you since I fixed Shriek’s motivator. How’s the little lady doing anyway?”
“Ramun, I would love to catch up with you but I don’t have much time.” Although the comlink amplified her voice over the connection, Ramun could tell that Kyla was whispering, as if not wanting to be overheard. “I want you to keep an eye out for a huge Kalevalan star yacht and a Hammerhead corvette that should be landing in Worlport right about now. My crew and I are trapped in the Hammerhead.”
The Duros stood there with his jaw hanging open as Kyla told him all of this, trying to process everything. “Okay,” he said. “And what exactly is it that you want me to do? I run a droid repair shop; I’m not exactly the type of person to break into a ship and rush to the rescue.”
“I’m not asking you to do any of those things. I’m asking… look, is Roth still working for you?”
“You mean Rothgar? Yeah, he’s still here. You want him to break you out?”
“I’ve seen him in action before. I’m sure he’s got what it takes to pull it off… though he might need some droids backing him up.”
Ramun sighed. “Right, right. I see where you’re going with this. I’ll see if he’s up to it. Just know that you’re gonna owe me for this, big time.”
“Ramun, trust me,” Kyla said. “After all this — if we make it out alive — I will—”
“Hey!” Another voice broke in from the other end. “What are you doing there?”
“Get off of me, you Sithspawn schuuta!” Ramun heard what sounded like a scuffle; before he could interject, the call abruptly ended and static filled the air.
“Kyla? Kyla!” Ramun called into the comlink, knowing there would be no point.
Nema poked her head out from the workshop. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“No,” he grunted, getting up on his old tired legs. “Everything is not all right. Is Rothgar nearby?”
“He’s out back showing the new guy around. Why?”
“It’s Kyla. She’s in trouble. I’m gonna need Rothgar to lead an effort to rescue her and her friends.”
“Wow. Okay.” Nema’s face became a display of confusion. “I didn’t know we did those kinds of things around here.”
“This is just a one-time thing,” Ramun said sharply. “Don’t get used to it.”
He walked past her and headed for the back of the shop. Stepping outside, he found the man he was looking for standing amid the heaps of scrap that dominated the shop’s back yard, accompanied by a young dark-skinned man. To call Rothgar a man himself was using the term loosely; a majority of his body had been replaced with cybernetic parts, transforming him into a towering monstrosity. His face — the last remaining part of his body that was still made of flesh — was pale and heavily disfigured, making it difficult to tell whether he was even human. Ramun knew little of where he came from, other than that he used to be a bounty hunter and probably hailed from Corellia if his accent was anything to go by. He had no idea what had happened to Rothgar to make him more machine than man, or even if it was something that Rothgar had brought onto himself. The man always seemed miserable, which made Ramun suspect that it was perhaps inflicted on him against his will. At the end of the day, it was none of the Duros’ business; so long as Rothgar did the work assigned to him, he could keep his life’s story to himself all he wanted.
The dark-skinned man who was with Rothgar was another interesting case. Calling himself Finn, he had shown up last night just as Ramun had been about to close up shop, asking for a job. In the several hours that he had gotten to know him, Ramun had no idea where Finn had come from or why he was in such desperate need of employment. He had looked tired and hungry on that night and, despite himself, Ramun had taken pity on him and brought him in for some food. Nema always liked to tease him on how, despite his gruff attitude towards everyone, he was still quick to take empathy on those who needed it. As much as he wanted to prove her wrong, he knew that his actions that night — as well as his friendship with Kyla and the actions he was taking now to help her — were doing anything but.
As Ramun stepped out, Rothgar was the first to notice him, in part due to his extraordinary height. As he swiveled around to attention, almost like a droid, Ramun called out to him.
“Rothgar! I’ve got a job for you!”
“I’m still showing Finn around, though,” Rothgar replied.
“This one’s more important. I just got off the comm with Kyla. You know Kyla, right? Kyla Kishanti?”
Rothgar stared back at him with a blank expression. Ramun supposed he shouldn’t have been too surprised; Rothgar had only met the Mirialan once since he had first started working at the shop, which had been nearly twelve years ago now.
“Never mind,” Ramun sighed. “Look, she’s gotten herself into trouble and I need you to help rescue her. She’s a good friend of mine and I just can’t rest easy knowing she’s in danger.”
“Where is she?” asked Finn, interjecting before Rothgar had a chance to speak.
Ramun found his interest surprising but chose not to dwell on it. “She says she’s stuck on a Hammerhead corvette that just landed here in Worlport with a star yacht. It shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“Am I going in alone?” Rothgar asked.
Ramun shook his head. “I’ve got a full stock of battle droids and labor droids that a client never picked up. I can control them remotely and have them follow you in. Are you up for it?”
Although his facial expression didn’t change — Ramun wondered if it even could — there was a gleam in Rothgar’s eyes that betrayed a hint of what the Duros believed to be eager anticipation.
“When do I leave?”
* * *
Valrisa felt as if she was being led to her execution.
A pair of large KX-series security droids — with their bulky upper torsos and thin limbs — led her down the ramp of the Queen’s Hammer, which had docked in a spaceport on the outskirts of Worlport. The star yacht had landed not too far away, and she could see it looming over the open docking bay as the droids whisked her away from the pirate ship. She had already seen Queen Kestora gone ahead of her, along with two other droids escorting what looked like Toah Jarsan and Han Solo. There was no sign of Typha or any of the others; she could only hope that they were still safe and sound, and that Kestora would keep her promise.
Not as if I’m going to live to see them faces again, she thought solemnly. I never even got to say goodbye to Typha….
She did her best to banish such grim thoughts from her mind as the droids proceeded to direct her out of the docking bay and towards the star yacht itself. Apparently Kestora was planning on having her meeting with the Dowager there, which Valrisa supposed made sense. Her mother would have surely complained about having to mingle on a “filthy pirate ship” and would have demanded a location more appropriate of her status.
As if speaking of the devil, Valrisa looked up to see a sleek and elegant ship of Nubian design descend from the sky, the sun gleaming off its reflective hull. Valrisa felt her heart drop into her stomach, despite already knowing what was waiting for her. She had hoped to never see that ship again, and yet here it was. On the day she was most likely about to die.
Typical.
The next several minutes moved in a blur. She didn’t even remember being led into the First Light and walking down its halls to the turbolift. Before she knew it, she was riding the elevator that soon brought her back to the very same room that Sal Tyrius had met her and the others in. This time though, it was Queen Kestora sitting on the loungers, pouring glasses of wine on the table in front of her. Without so much as a glance at Valrisa, she beckoned the two droids to take her to the back of the room, putting her in a spot that would have been out of the Dowager’s sight when she eventually arrived. Also waiting there, their hands shackled like hers, were Toah Jarsan and Han Solo. Both men barely acknowledged her arrival, looking lost in their thoughts. After Valrisa had been shoved into the small area, the four KX droids that had brought them all here formed together to create an impromptu wall around them, obstructing Kestora and the rest of the room from view.
“Should have known this would have all bit me in the rear eventually,” Han was muttering, more to himself than anything.
Toah lifted his head to look at Valrisa, his face betraying no hint of what he was thinking. “I hear the Dowager is coming to visit us.”
Valrisa said nothing, avoiding his gaze.
“Listen,” the Jedi said gently. “If we are to get out of this situation, it would help to know exactly what and who it is we’re dealing with. You’re the only one here who has any working knowledge of the Cabal and how it works.”
“Not something I’m proud of,” Valrisa muttered.
“I understand that. But that knowledge can be very useful; not just for us at the moment, but for the Resistance’s operations as a whole. With any information you can give us, we might be able to put a stop to your mother and the people she works with.”
Valrisa sighed as she finally directed her eyes to look into his. “Where do you want me to start?”
“Where anyone’s story starts,” Toah said quietly. “From the beginning.”
Valrisa held his gaze for a long moment. Then, after taking a deep breath, she began her story.
* * *
I don’t remember much of my childhood. Mostly because none of it was any good and I’ve forced myself to repress the memories. The earliest memory I have is being a five-year-old girl, sitting at a table while the Dowager’s servant droid placed a tray of food in front of me. It was probably the only thing in my mother’s palace who treated me with any degree of respect, and that was just because it was programmed to act that way towards everybody.
The rest of my memories are pretty vague. Mostly just her screaming and hitting me at different points in my life. It’s only when I turn fourteen that the memories become clearer, because that was when she finally disowned me. Apparently all I needed to do was express interest in other girls for her to finally have enough of me and kick me out. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t just kill me right then and there. Granted, this was before the Galactic Alliance went to crap, so she probably knew she would have gotten a lot of heat for any actions that involved my death.
I wasn’t homeless for very long, though. Eventually, I crossed paths with a man named Kalen Rusher. He told me he was a Jedi and that he knew I was Force-sensitive. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I went with him anyway because I felt as if I didn’t have much choice. In retrospect, that might have been a very foolish and stupid thing to do; here I was, a teenage girl letting an older man take me away from my home planet. Luckily for me, he was telling the truth and he ended up bringing me to the Jedi Academy on Ossus.
My time as a Padawan didn’t last very long. It was difficult for me to make friends, because my mother refused me from ever having any, and I never felt that I really belonged. There was this one girl — Natia I think she was called — who was a bit obsessed with me, probably because she was new and felt like an outcast as well. I didn’t want anything to do with her though; something about her always just… rubbed me the wrong way.
It wasn’t long after Kalen had brought me to Ossus that the Pleiades campaign began. We chased a bunch of Sith left over from Darth Vorath’s empire across the Outer Rim before finally bringing an end to them on Endymion. I guess I chose then to leave the Jedi because I felt like it was a good as time as any; my master had gotten the closure he had wanted from defeating the Sith, since they had killed a lot of his friends. I didn’t want to wait for us to get back to Ossus for me to leave, so I hopped into my fighter the first chance I got and took off. Never once did I look back.
I made it as far as Durollia before my ship’s engine gave out, forcing me to land and find work so I could afford repairs. I ended up running into a Xexto smuggler who was looking to expand her crew; seeing as how I had nowhere else to turn to, I accepted her offer and helped her with her spice runs. During that time, one of her crew mates — a retired bounty hunter — took interest in me and trained me to become a hunter as well. Before I knew it, I was taking up jobs from various postings and I ended up working for a Quarren crime boss named Tesska, who was a vigo working for Black Sun.
When Tesska got killed during the Vigo Massacres, her assets ended up getting absorbed by the Malvis Cabal, which up until that point had existed only in rumors. They offered me a job under them and I agreed, thinking it would be a lateral transfer. I was given a ship and even my own co-pilot, who I ended up falling in love with. For a short time, I thought I had finally found my purpose in life and that I could finally be happy.
Then I discovered my mother was a member of the Cabal.
I found out while working for the Gaar Tandoon. After I completed a job for him, he asked me about my name and asked if I had any relation to the Dowager Sareth Valrisa. He even pointed out how similar our first names were. Not long after that, I ran into her while making a quick stop on Ord Talavos. Since then, she’s been very vocal and public among the Cabal members about how she had disowned me and thus has nothing to do with me. I retaliated by insisting on going by Valrisa, mostly out of sheer spite towards her. Only Typha only calls me Sare nowadays… but even that name never really felt right.
Things only got worse after I left the Cabal following an incident over a Sith artifact, which got some of the Cabal’s top members killed. Even though I wasn’t the one who killed them, some of the other leaders — including my mother — have marked me for death and have been sending all sorts of goons after me and my crew. At first we had been pretty good at avoiding them, but now….
Well, I don’t suppose it matters anymore. She’s already here.
* * *
Valrisa went silent just as the doors to the turbolift opened. Toah Jarsan had enough of a vantage point to see just past the security droids blocking them, giving him a glimpse of the old blond haired woman as she strode into the room, flanked by a pair of armored bodyguards. Also accompanying her was a small white droid with an over-sized round head and triangular green optical sensors.
“Where is she?” screeched the Dowager, her voice shrill enough that even Toah had to wince.
“Not even a hello,” sighed Queen Kestora. “You really are as bad as people say you are.”
“Enough!” Sareth snapped, her eyes blazing with fury. “You said you have my daughter. Now hand her over!”
“Funny. I thought I had heard that you had disowned her. So, technically, she isn’t your daughter anymore.”
“She has brought shame to the very name of Valrisa! She deserves to be punished for her crimes!”
“It’s not even your name.” The pirate queen’s voice had inexplicably gone cold. “It was your husband’s name — your first husband — and he died long before Sare was even born.”
Sareth’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Because unlike you, I actually pay attention to things. I know who you are, Sareth. I know about you more than you would like me to know.”
The Dowager scoffed. “You’re bluffing. Not to mention wasting my time. Hand over the girl, now.”
“Sit down first and then we can talk.”
“I’m not here to talk.” Sareth gestured to her guards and they both drew blasters, pointing them at Kestora. “I’m here to take my daughter home. This is your last chance.”
Kestora sighed, seemingly unfazed by the Dowager’s threats. “And here I was hoping for a nice and clean conclusion.”
She brought out a small device and pressed a button on it. At once, the droids that had been guarding Toah, Valrisa, and Han broke formation and marched over to flank the Dowager and her goons on either side, giving Sareth a clear view of Valrisa herself.
“There you are, you piffer!” she screeched. “You’re coming with me!”
“No,” Kestora said quietly. “She isn’t.”
Suddenly, one of the droids moved in and seized Sareth by the neck, hoisting her off the deck. The two guards moved to fire their weapons, only to be immediately disarmed by two of the other droids before being slammed into the wall. The Dowager’s droid assistant waddled out of the way, putting as much distance between itself and the action as it could.
“Marv!” Sareth croaked out from under the grip of the droid strangling her. “Do something!”
“I am not programmed to do anything that you do not order me to do, Mistress Sareth,” the droid responded, sounding like the most depressed droid Toah had ever heard.
“I’m ordering you to do something!”
“I do not have that word registered in my preset of actions, Mistress Sareth.”
“All right, that’s enough,” Kestora said, stepping up to the droid holding the Dowager. “You can put her down now. I think she’s gotten the message.”
The droid did not move. Kestora cocked her head in confusion.
“Hello? Are you listening?” She looked down at the device in her hand. “Did I press something that—”
She was cut off as the droid shot out its other fist, grabbing her by the neck as well before hoisting her up. As Toah, Valrisa, and Han scrambled to their feet, the normally white optical sensors in the black-plated droid’s round head started to take on a crimson glow.
“Now that I have your attention,” the droid said, its metallic voice as cool as ice, “I would like to make a statement.”
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