CHAPTER NINE
Coruscant
“The Chair recognizes the Senator of Arkanis.”
All eyes were on the repulsorpod that carried Senator Carise Sindian to the center of the Senate Chamber, beaming from her deep-golden face as she proudly wore a flowing, silvery dress. Speaking loud and clear, Sindian voiced her vote for Senator Tyron Valrisa, prompting applause to erupt from all sides of the chamber.
As Sindian’s pod returned to its original place, Representative Lee-Laa Creel of Naboo took a deep breath, feeling like the weight of the entire galaxy was resting on her shoulders. With Senator Darius Naberrie still recovering from the attempt on his life, she had been entrusted with representing her homeworld in the Senate’s vote for the next Chief of State. Out of the three candidates that were up for vote, Tyron Valrisa of Sedratis was in the lead by a fair margin, although Roo Matha of Quermia was not far behind. The third candidate, a Wermal senator whose name Lee-Laa couldn’t even be bothered to remember, was trailing so far behind it was laughable. Had it not been for his injuries, Darius Naberrie likely would have been up there with them, easily neck-to-neck with Valrisa himself.
Which, of course, led to the dilemma Lee-Laa now found herself in. She knew that Darius had a friendly relationship with Valrisa, despite them being of two different parties. Would he have cast his vote for his friend if he was not also a candidate? Or would he have stayed within his planet’s party lines and supported Roo Matha instead? Due to his condition, his instructions to her hadn’t been clear, and given that she had only been Junior Representative for less than a year, she hardly had the experience or political acumen to know what she was to do in this situation.
“The Chair recognizes the Senator of Gatalenta.”
The senator in question dispatched in their pod and cast their vote for Roo Matha, eliciting some cheers and many jeers from all around the chamber. Next to go were Senators Nevis and Treen of Orinda and Kuat respectively, voicing their support for Valrisa. They were quickly joined by others, including some surprising ones such as Akida Kivoda of Pantora and Kersla of Ryloth. Even the votes for Roo Matha from the Mon Cala delegation were not enough to offset Valrisa’s lead. His victory was all but assured; nothing Lee-Laa did would do anything to change the inevitable outcome.
She could not help but wonder if this is what her predecessors had felt when Palpatine had solidified his power as Supreme Chancellor and ultimately declared himself Emperor. During those times, her people’s leader had been Naboo’s junior representative while Darius Naberrie’s great-aunt had been its senator. While there was no telling if Senator Valrisa would be anything like Palpatine, she also had no faith in him or any of the other candidates being able to bring the Alliance out of the downward spiral it was heading in. Would her vote contribute to that spiral, or would inaction worsen it?
Feeling that she had stayed silent for too long, Lee-Laa decided that the time had come for her to cast her vote.
“The Chair recognizes the Representative of Naboo.”
As her repulsorpod detached from its platform, Lee-Laa took another deep breath to steady her nerves, reminding herself that nothing she said or did today would matter in the greater scheme of things.
She opened her mouth and voiced her vote. The Senate Chamber broke out in applause and she knew right then that it would mean nothing.
* * *
When Vixen awoke, she found that she was still in her room, laying on her bed. The most noticeable difference was the fact that several people were in the room with her, and quite a few of them were pointing blasters at her.
Glowering at them from behind her violet bangs as she sat up, Vixen said, “I take it Malvis won’t be giving me that raise anytime soon.”
“We’re not with Malvis,” said a large man with a golden tattoo marking his face. Most likely a Kiffar. “We’re with the Smugglers’ Alliance.”
“Even better.” She crossed her arms, not at all intimidated by the weapons pointed at her. “If you’re here to get me to squeal, you’re wasting your time. No amount of credits—or any other form of pleasure—is going to get me to talk.”
“At least one of us has Force-sensitivity,” said a dark-haired woman about Vixen’s age. “We also have a Cathar who can tear you up limb from limb. If mind tricks don’t work, then we’ve got other ways of making you talk.”
Vixen snorted. “Kill me if you want. At this point, I’m dead anyway. Malvis doesn’t take kindly to operatives who let themselves get captured or bested.”
“It doesn’t need to be like this,” said the Kiffar. “Look, how about we establish some friendly ground. Maybe some introductions are in order. My name is Zarin Kal.” He gestured to the Cathar as well as the Ortolan that had stunned her. “This is Wiskin and Bedo.” He then motioned to the woman. “This is Sare Valrisa—”
“Ah, yes,” Vixen interrupted, smirking at the other woman. “The Dowager’s daughter. I’ve had the misfortune of meeting your mother once.”
Valrisa glared back at her. “I’m sure it was a harrowing experience.”
“Perhaps. But also somewhat enlightening.” Vixen then moved her eyes to a person in the room that Zarin Kal had yet to introduce, a Pantoran woman standing just behind the Cathar. “And you… I know you.”
Valrisa frowned as she looked between the two of them, the Pantoran shifting uncomfortably. “You know Typha?”
“Probably not as well as you do. But for a time, she was a member of the House of Maidens.”
Vixen took some satisfaction from the confused look on Valrisa’s face and she saw the other woman’s eyes momentarily glance at the Pantoran, who was still hiding in the large Cathar’s shadow.
“What is the House of Maidens?” Valrisa asked.
Vixen chuckled. “Oh, you sweet summer child. Sometimes I envy those who are as naive and innocent as you.”
Valrisa turned her dark gaze to Typha. “What is she talking about?”
The Pantoran woman sighed as she stepped out from behind Wiskin, her eyes cast to the floor. “They’re an organization of assassins and slavers that mask their operations as a brothel. They lend their services—whether it is for pleasure or assassination—to wealthy and corrupt people in the galaxy.”
“And you were one of them?” Zarin asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Only for a short time. I carried out a few operations before it was decided that I was better suited as a smuggler and pilot than an assassin.” Typha continued to look away from Valrisa, unable to look her partner in the eye. “I never did forget how to use a sniper rifle, though….”
“Any reason why you never brought this up before?” Wiskin growled.
“It never seemed relevant or important. It’s not like I knew why I was doing the things they had me do… or killing the people they wanted dead.”
“What sort of people are we talking about?” Zarin asked.
Typha bit her lip, looking conflicted as to how to respond. With the others’ attention on her, Vixen took the opportunity to figure out a way on how she could escape them. If she could reach the holdout blaster just underneath her sheets, she could pick off the Cathar first and then maybe—
Without warning, said holdout blaster flew out from underneath her bed and into the hand of Zarin, who caught it while still looking at Typha. Sighing, the Kiffar straightened up and said, “We can sort this out later. Let’s get her back to the ship before anyone notices we’re here.”
He nodded to Bedo and the Ortolan walked over to the door, opening it. Zarin then forced a pair of stun cuffs onto Vixen’s wrists before having Wiskin pick her up and sling her over his shoulder. Knowing that it was useless to protest or fight back, Vixen did not put up a fight as she was carried out of her room. Instead, she reveled in the uncomfortable glances that Valrisa was sending to Typha as they followed the other Renegades out. If there was one thing she enjoyed doing, it was ruining people without ever having to lift a finger. All you really needed was the right words and you could then sit back as all hell broke loose.
At the very least, she could die with the satisfaction of having ruined one last life.
* * *
“You could have told me.”
Typha sighed as she hugged herself, walking alongside Valrisa as they trailed the others. “I did. Sort of.”
“You told me about the Society, and that you did things you shouldn’t have done.” Valrisa regarded her partner with a look that was more disappointed than it was mad, not that it made Typha feel any better. “You didn’t say anything about a brothel.”
“I didn’t do that kind of work, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Typha said quickly. “Their leader didn’t think I was… suited for that line of work, so she had me work behind the scenes. Taking out politicians and businesspeople that were too clever to be seduced.”
“And Vixen? How much do you know about her?”
“Not any more than you. I only ever saw her in passing, but she was one of Maeva’s top workers.”
“Maeva?”
“Their leader, or ‘Mother’ as she calls herself. She’s pretty elusive; only met her in person once, when I first started working for them.”
“Well, if we can get any information on her, then that could help us deal with the rest of the Cabal, especially if Vixen doesn’t give us anything.”
Silence passed between them as they walked through the dark, dingy sub-streets of Coruscant. Swallowing hard, Typha glanced at Valrisa, searching her partner’s dark eyes.
“Once this is all over,” she said softly, “no more secrets. I promise. Deal?”
Valrisa looked back at her, and opened her mouth as if to speak, only to stop abruptly in her tracks. Grabbing Typha by the arm, she called out to Zarin and the others.
“Get down!”
The others barely managed to duck in time as a bolt of plasma lanced out of the darkness, striking a wall just behind Valrisa and Typha. Zarin ignited his lightsaber as the others drew their blasters, pointing them in various directions. Typha could have sworn she heard footsteps just before another blast came from another direction, just slightly east of the first one. Zarin deflected the bolt as Valrisa shot up at where the sniper shots seemed to have been coming from. The spark caused by her blaster bolt hitting steel briefly lit up the darkness and Typha saw the silhouette of an armored figure. Drawing her sniper rifle, she looked through its scope and enhanced its heat sensors. As soon as she saw the moving outline of the figure, she fired and grazed their foot. This was enough to make the assailant lose their balance and fall from the rafters, landing on the ground in front of them.
Before the armored figure could get up, Zarin had his lightsaber at their neck. “Don’t move,” he said through gritted teeth.
The assailant responded by drawing a lightsaber of their own, pushing back Zarin’s red blade with a yellow one. Taken aback, the Kiffar ex-Jedi blocked the warrior’s attacks, which Typha noticed were not quite as smooth or skilled as the typical Force-user. No doubt realizing this himself, Zarin successfully parried the warrior’s attacks before pushing them back with the Force, sending them crashing into the wall as they dropped the lightsaber.
While Valrisa picked up the lightsaber, Zarin held his blade at the assailant’s neck again. “Any more stupid ideas or are you finally going to yield?”
The armored stranger panted heavily, and when they spoke it was with the voice of a woman. “Don’t suppose I’m going to accomplish much by trying to fight a crazy Sith like you.”
“I’m not a Sith,” Zarin protested.
“That lightsaber says otherwise. But whatever; none of this matters anyway. It’s all about to go down.”
“What are you talking about?” Valrisa asked.
“It’s all over the HoloNet feed. The Senate just closed the polls. Senator Tyron Valrisa has won the election..”
Dark clouds fell over the faces of those who understood the weight of this statement. Bedo tapped his pudgy blue fingers together as he looked from one grave expression to the next.
“So, is that it then?” the Ortolan asked quietly. “Did we lose?”
“Perhaps,” the armored woman said. “But I wouldn’t say Malvis is victorious quite yet.”
“Why do you say that?” Zarin asked.
“Because I know that Drakmos led you here, that he leaked all of that intelligence to you… but I don’t know why. No one in the Cabal does. If it was to lure you into a trap, then there is no trap to be sprung.”
“You mean he didn’t send you after us?”
She shook her head. “I work for the Cabal, but not for Drakmos. I only found out about what he did through my spy on the Errant Venture.”
“If Drakmos didn’t send you,” Valrisa said, “then why did he leak the Cabal’s information to us? Is he betraying Malvis?”
“I don’t know,” the assailant said frankly. “If he is, then he will have a perfect opportunity to strike when Malvis hosts his next gathering on Ord Talavos. Rumor has it that he will be making a physical appearance for the first time in the Cabal’s history.”
Wiskin snorted. “You’re telling me that you all work for this guy yet you’ve never even seen him in the flesh?”
“It worked for Palpatine. Sometimes, the idea of a person is just as threatening, if not more, than their physical presence.”
Zarin continued to eye the masked woman carefully. “And just why are you telling us this?”
“Because, ultimately, it doesn’t matter anymore. Your precious Alliance is already too far gone; there is no saving it. What Malvis and his Cabal have accomplished cannot be undone. What you and the Resistance have been doing has already been futile, if amusing… but now you can safely say that everything you’ve done… has been in vain.”
“And people say I’m pessimistic,” Bedo muttered.
Zarin grimaced. “In any case, I think you should be coming with us. Between you and Vixen, you’re the only hope we have of getting close to Malvis and stopping the Cabal before they can do any more damage.”
“The damage is already done, dark Jedi boy,” the masked woman said coolly. “You just haven’t seen it yet.”
* * *
Toah Jarsan stood on the roof of a building that was only a few miles away from the Galactic Alliance Detention Center, just outside the edge of its security field. The building had recently been refurbished after the disastrous breakout incident that had occurred two years ago, and its fortifications had doubtlessly been doubled since then. Members of the Galactic Alliance Guard and security droids patrolled the facility’s perimeters, oblivious to the Jedi and smuggler observing them from afar.
“This is the most likely place they could have taken her,” Lance Nebula said, lowering a pair of macrobinoculars from his face. “From what I’ve heard, a lot of people that the current government considers to be… questionable are brought here to get them out of the way, rather than a standard prison that the average crook would be taken to.”
“What other sorts of people have been taken here?” Toah asked.
Lance shrugged. “Activists, protesters, politicians, you name it. People have been afraid to speak out here on Coruscant for fear of getting disappeared, or worse getting their families in trouble.”
“Sounds like something the Empire would do….”
“Yeah. Really makes you wonder if they ever really left.”
Or if they’ve retaken control. Toah kept this thought to himself as he looked over to Lance. “Any suggestions on how we get inside?”
Lance offered him a sheepish look. “To be honest, no. I can’t say I’ve ever done something like this before. I was hoping you had an idea.”
Toah reached for the macrobinoculars and Lance handed them to him. Looking through the device, Toah counted the number of guards and droids surrounding the facility. There were far too many for a lone Jedi and smuggler to deal with on their own. The Resistance had provided him with some clearance codes for him to use in cases like this, but there was no telling if they would even work given how much Coruscant’s security had been tightened. It would also give away who he really was to Lance, whom he was not exactly sure he could trust.
As he deliberated on what to do, Toah caught movement and moved the binoculars’ focus to the front of the Detention Center. Two guards stood to attention as a sharply dressed man approached them. From their appearance, Toah believed the man to be Director Heol Girdun of Alliance Intelligence. Behind Girdun were two other guards carrying a large black case, which they carried into the facility once they had been given clearance.
“I guess people aren’t the only things they’re keeping here,” Toah muttered.
“What is it?” Lance asked.
Before Toah could answer, he saw Girdun turn and look up in their direction. Lowering the macrobinoculars, he grabbed Lance by the arm and pulled him down, hiding behind a ridge in the roof.
“Did they see you?” Lance whispered.
“I’m not sure. We should probably—”
He was drowned out by the sound of a patrol gunship lifting off and flying over to their position, casting a bright light on them. Toah urged Lance to move ahead of him as they made a break for it, only for another patrol gunship to move in front of them as soon as they made it to the other side of the roof.
“GALACTIC ALLIANCE GUARD,” an automated voice boomed from the gunship. “KEEP YOUR HANDS IN VIEW. DO NOT MOVE.”
Left without a choice, Toah and Lance raised their hands as Alliance guards dropped down from the gunship and moved in to apprehend them. One of them, a man who appeared to be about thirty, paused upon seeing Toah, almost as if he recognized him despite Toah not being familiar with him.
“Well, well,” the guardsman said. “Interesting that you’d show your face here of all places.”
“Captain Shevu?” another guardsman asked.
“Restrain them,” Shevu ordered. “Put the smuggler with the rest, but this one….” He pointed directly at Toah. “This one, I think the director will want to speak personally with.”
Lance glanced over at Toah as the guardsmen restrained them with stun cuffs. “What’s he talking about, Aron?”
“If you paid attention to the news, you’d know that’s not his name.” Shevu regarded Toah evenly. “But I think you’ve got bigger things to worry about, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Toah responded quietly. “I would say I do.”
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