CHAPTER FIVE
Ord Talavos
If Remar Almor did not know any better, he would have thought he was in the presence of Malvis himself. A giant, dragon-like member of a species Remar had never seen before, Drakmos the Despised loomed over him, Sharbrook, and the Hoopaloo curator examining the Ryloth Ark they had brought in, large crimson wings folded against his back. His scaly red body was adorned with blue robes and golden armor plating, giving him the appearance of a king. To add to this illusion was his large throne situated at the back of the massive stone chamber they were standing in, as well as rows of armored guards—most of them members of reptilian species such as Barabels and Tiss’shar. For all intents and purposes, Drakmos may as well have been the ruler of Ord Talavos. Of course, there was nothing to suggest that he wasn’t already the ruler of something; Remar knew enough about the various members of the Malvis Cabal to know that each of its leaders ruled their own little faction and did as they pleased so long as their activities did not clash with Malvis’s own goals.
“Well?” Drakmos rumbled, breaking the silence that had pervaded the room for the past several minutes. “Is it legitimate?”
“As far as I can tell, yes.” The avian Hoopaloo removed the eye magnifier piece that had been wedged into his right eye. “I will need to bring this to the Board of Curators to verify it for absolute certain. All of the major telling details check out, at the very least.”
“Splendid!” Drakmos exclaimed, taking on a cheery tone that was dissonant with his fearsome appearance. “I’m sure this piece will make an excellent addition to the Braglon Museum’s collection.”
“Indeed it will,” said the Hoopaloo. “It’s a shame that Doonluck Soota isn’t here to see this for himself. He would have loved to see something like this in person.”
“Indeed,” said Drakmos, though it did not sound like he cared much. “Thank you for your time, curator. I will have my people help you deliver the Ark to the museum.”
The Hoopaloo bowed his head before taking his leave. At the same time, a pair of Tiss'shar guards stepped away from their posts and moved to pick up the Ryloth Ark, carrying it out of the chamber as they followed the Hoopaloo.
Now alone with Drakmos the Despised, Remar and Sharbrook turned their attentions back to the reptilian crime lord as he sat back down on his marble throne. Interlacing his scaly red fingers with each other, he peered down at them with golden eyes.
“You have already been compensated for this little venture,” he rumbled. “However, I would like to offer you another job.”
“Let’s hear it,” Remar said, being mindful to not sound like he was committed to accepting it.
“Recently, one of the Cabal’s leaders—the Dowager Valrisa of Sedratis—met her tragic demise on Ord Mantell,” Drakmos went on. “This has left a vacuum in the Cabal’s structure. Normally, when a Cabal leader passes, their assets are either absorbed into one of the others’ factions or a prospective individual would be promoted to take their place. But in the Dowager’s case, she left behind a will that dictated that all seven of her children had a claim to her assets and that they would need to fight each over it in order to assume full control.”
“And the Cabal is willing to honor this will rather than just dismiss it and hand the assets of their own choosing?” Remar asked.
“Malvis is, yes. I cannot speak as to his reasons; I personally would have dismissed such a frivolous thing and seized the Dowager’s assets for myself.” Drakmos splayed his palms open. “But alas, I am not the one in control. Not yet, at least.”
Drakmos ended this statement with a conspiratorial smile and Remar couldn’t help but wonder what he was getting himself into. Of course, it was not too late to back out of it; he hadn’t actually agreed to anything, after all. However, he could not help but find himself asking: “What do you want us to do then?”
“It’s quite simple, really,” said Drakmos. “I want you to track down and kill all seven of the heirs.”
“Whoa, now.” Remar held up his hands. “We’re not exactly the killing type. I mean, if there’s a bounty on their heads and they’re wanted dead or alive, then that’s one thing. But we’re not assassins.”
Sharbrook growled in agreement. Drakmos’s eyes narrowed and he brought his steepled fingers up to his face again.
“I see,” he mused. “If I were to post a bounty on their heads, would you be willing to do it then?”
Remar shifted uncomfortably. He glanced at Sharbrook who returned with a silent glare.
“Depends on how much it is,” he muttered.
“Would ten million sound like a reasonable price?”
Remar swallowed hard. “For all seven?”
“For each one.”
Sharbrook let out a low mew. Remar looked to the Wookiee and met his partner’s gaze. Sharbrook cocked his head to the side and made another sound, less aggressive than the previous ones he had been making.
“Seventy million is a lot,” Remar said, voicing what they were both thinking. He looked back to Drakmos, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Do you even have that kind of money?”
“More than you can imagine,” Drakmos replied, that grin of his returning.
Remar glanced again at Sharbrook and this time the Wookiee bowed his head in acquiescence. As much as he knew that his partner did not want to end up getting stuck doing the Malvis Cabal’s dirty work, they both knew that this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. They would have been foolish not to take it.
Of course, that very well could have been what Drakmos was counting on….
Knowing it was too late to back out now, Remar turned back to the dragon and said, “You’ve got a deal. Where can we find our first target?”
Drakmos smirked as he leaned back in his throne. “Have you ever been to Naboo?”
* * *
“Naboo, huh?” As the Renegade traveled through hyperspace after having departed from Terminus, Kyla Kishanti swiveled around in her pilot’s seat to look at Valrisa. “What’s the name of their senator, again? Darius something?”
“Darius Naberrie,” supplied Ace Ral’kre, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat next to her.
“Naberrie,” Kyla repeated. “Where have I heard that name before?”
“That’s the family Queen Amidala belonged to,” said Bedo, stationed at the Renegade’s comm unit. The Ortolan gave his captain a pointed look. “You do know who Queen Amidala is, right?”
Kyla rolled her eyes. “Yes, Bedo. No one needs to be a history buff to know who Amidala is. In any case, that probably explains why a Serennian noblewoman is getting married to a Naboo politician. If this Valera is anything like her mother, she’s probably only in it for the money and prestige.”
“Must run in the family,” Valrisa muttered, shrugging her shoulders.
Ace took his eyes off the ship’s viewport to glance at her. “You said that the Dowager has seven heirs, correct?”
“That’s what Jool told me.”
“That tracks with what is known about the Charge Matrica," the Bothan said, tugging at a tuft of fur hanging from his chin. "You cannot initiate one without at least seven heirs."
Bedo spun around in his seat to look at them. His beady black eyes were as wide as they could be and his blue skin had taken on a lighter shade. “Why are you guys talking about the Charge Matrica?”
Kyla gave the Ortolan a look. “Weren’t you just listening to us? The Dowager supposedly has seven children who are vying for control over her estate.”
“I got that part,” Bedo said hastily. “But they’re actually calling it the Charge Matrica?”
“Yeah? Why?”
Bedo rubbed his temples with his pudgy fingers. “During the Draggulch Period, the Grumani sector was ruled by a bunch of Sith Lords. Many of them—not all, but most—were all descended from a Sith Lady by the name of Vilia Calimondra.”
Ace shook his head in incredulity. “How do you know so much about all these Sith and Jedi people? I’ve never heard of Calimondra before.”
“My grandfather used to tell me stories. I don’t know how he knew of them, since he was never a Jedi as far as I know. No one in my family was. But he would tell me stories about the Sith Wars and how errant Jedi Knights would defend the Outer Rim after the Republic had lost its power. One of these Jedi was a woman named Kerra Holt who fought against Calimondra and her family in the Grumani sector.”
“Are the Calimondras the only ones to have engaged in a Charge Matrica?” asked Valrisa.
“As far as I know,” said Bedo. “I always thought the term was unique to them. Unless….”
Valrisa frowned. “Unless what?”
The Ortolan shifted uncomfortably, his long ears twitching. “If you don’t mind me asking… do you happen to know much about your… I mean, the Dowager’s family?”
“You mean House Valrisa?”
“No. Her family. The Dowager married into House Valrisa. She had to have come from somewhere else, didn’t she?”
Valrisa’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting she’s descended from Sith?”
Bedo held his hands up. “I’m just putting it out there. Historical records are hazy as to how many—if any—of Vilia Calimondra’s grandchildren survived the Charge Matrica. I mean, it’s not like it makes much of a difference, seeing how she’s dead and everything.”
“Maybe she’s just a twisted woman who likes twisted people and uses terminology associated with those twisted people.” Kyla leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. “I think you’re putting too much thought into it, Bedo. The Dowager and her people don’t strike me as Sith.”
“Neither did Senator Palpatine,” Bedo retorted. “And look how well that worked out for people.”
“Whatever.” Kyla directed her attention back to Valrisa. “So once we get to Naboo, what then? Are you going to confront your sister?”
“I haven’t decided on that part yet,” Valrisa admitted. “At the very least, we should be able to find out where she’s having her wedding. Then maybe I can get an audience with her.”
“Oh, so we’re wedding crashers now?” Bedo remarked. “Great. I’m glad we’re moving up in life.”
“Bedo,” Ace said exasperatedly, “do you really need to comment on everything?”
The Ortolan shrugged as he twitched his long nose. “Somebody has to....”
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