CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ord Talavos
Drakmos the Despised sat at the end of a long table that spanned the entire length of the Grand Hall. On either side of him, crime lords and prominent members of the Malvis Cabal feasted on the food that had been provided to them. Gaar Tandoon was enjoying a bottle of Bellorian ale, Mikus was injecting algae into his apparatus, and Fehkla Gorr was stabbing at a piece of thookah-steak. Even Madame Maeva seemed to be enjoying her dish of oven-roasted Burra fish. Drakmos had made sure that the food his servants produced would be the best the galaxy ever had to offer.
As much as he hated them all, he wanted them to enjoy one last good meal before they all had to die.
The only thing that was missing from this perfect picture was Malvis himself. The victory feast had already begun and yet there had been no report of his vessel entering the system. Drakmos had tried questioning his Pa’lowick aide, but Sal Orbego had been uncharacteristically absent-minded and even he didn’t seem to know where Malvis was.
Something was not quite right about the whole thing, and Drakmos intended to get to the bottom of it.
“So, what now?” asked Gaar Tandoon as he poured himself another glass. “Now that we have succeeded in putting our man in charge of the Galactic Alliance, where do we go from here? Does anyone else have plans? Does Malvis have plans?”
“I don’t know about you freaks, but I intend on going back to pillaging Outer Rim worlds,” mumbled Fehkla Gorr. The black-scaled Huralok chewed loudly on his piece of steak. “This political stuff always made my head hurt.”
“As if you had any role to play,” Tandoon said snidely. “I was speaking to the more… intellectual minds at the table.”
“The House of Maidens will continue operating as it always had,” said Madame Maeva. The crimson-skinned Zeltron sipped gingerly from her glass of wine as her golden eyes roamed from one face to the next. “I’m sure the same can be said for most of us, at least until Malvis gives us further directions. Speaking of which, has anyone seen him?”
“Nope,” grunted Mikus. “I don’t think anyone has ever seen him in person, besides maybe that little runt of an assistant he’s always got running around. Personally, if you ask me, I don’t think he even exists.”
“Oh, he must exist in some form,” said Maeva “I recall seeing him in some holographic form during the early days of the Cabal, back when it was still the Society. He spoke to its members and everything.”
“Yeah? What did he look like?”
Maeva tapped her chin with a white-gloved hand. “You know… he always looked different each and every time he appeared. He was always human but had a different face, whether it was his hair, his eyes, even his skin color… I don’t think I ever saw the same face twice.”
“Means he must be hiding something,” Mikus muttered. “Question is, what?”
“There is nothing to hide, my good friend. Not anymore.”
The room went silent at the sound of the booming voice. Drakmos stirred and rose in his seat as a tall figure entered the Grand Hall. Dressed in shimmering golden robes, the tall man had a twisted appearance, his body angled slightly to one side while his gaunt face was heavily scarred. As Sal Orbego rushed out from behind him to pull out his designated seat at the table, the tall man took a moment to give an appraising look to the assembled members of the Cabal before him, a gleam in his small blue eyes.
“It is an honor to meet you all in person,” Malvis said. “You have all done incredibly well.”
Drakmos put on a smile as he rose from his seat and bowed. “Malvis. The honor is all mine. I welcome you to my humble abode.”
Malvis chuckled as he took his seat. “Don’t be so modest, Despised One. Ord Talavos has served as an ideal location for the Cabal and its operations.”
Drakmos inclined his head. “Indeed. Now then, since we are all here… I would like to interrupt this meal to give a toast.”
He picked up his glass of Talavosian ale and raised it in the direction of the rest of the table.
“First of all: a toast to Malvis, for organizing this elegant scheme to take control of the Galactic Alliance and by extent the galaxy itself!”
Hearty cheers rang out from all around the table. Malvis merely nodded in acknowledgment, steepling his fingers as he watched Drakmos.
“I would also like to give a toast to the many, many leaders of the Cabal that all had a role to play, including the ones that could not make it to this day. Hahgalor Mos, the Dowager Sareth….”
The mention of these names drew some yawns and jeers from those at the table. Drakmos chuckled as he sheepishly raised a hand.
“While I jest with Hahgalor Mos, the Dowager nonetheless played a pivotal role. After all, it is her firstborn son whom we have worked so hard to put into the office of Chief of State. Her other heirs have also done great work to give the Cabal the financial support it needed to get to where it is today. Unfortunately, not all of them have lived long enough to see this moment either. So, a toast to them as well.”
Drakmos paused, giving himself a moment to compose himself. This was it, he thought. This was the moment.
“And a toast to Drakmos the Dreaded, my father who ruled Ord Talavos before me. He met his unfortunate end at the blade of Darth Vader, but his legacy nonetheless continues strong through me. I have spent my entire life working to restore this world to the glory it lost a millennium ago.
“A toast to the late and great Prince Xalren, who violated the privacy of my homeworld and brought his band of criminals here to occupy my abode. A toast to the magnificent Sal Tyrius, who helped me trade one oppressor for another by introducing me to the Cabal and only further solidifying the corruption of my once magnificent homeworld.”
A tense silence had fallen over the table’s patrons by now, with many looking away from their food to stare at Drakmos with incredulity. Only Malvis remained expressionless, watching the Despised One keenly over his steepled fingers.
“Ten years ago I had hoped to keep my home, my people, free from the diseased touch of the rest of the galaxy,” Drakmos went on, lowering his voice. “Now, it has become plagued by criminals of all sorts—assassins, smugglers, thieves, bounty hunters, con artists…. Were my father still alive, he would look on me in shame for allowing such filth to stain our beautiful home. But today, I intend to amend that. Today, I will fix the mistake I made a decade ago.
“Today, the Dragon shall feast.”
From out of the shadows, all around the Grand Hall, cloaked figures jumped out and lunged at the dining patrons. Greshna, Drakmos’ chief lieutenant, plunged a dagger into the back of Gaar Tandoon, drawing a pathetic cry from his lungs. A Tiss’shar assailant drove a spear into the eye of Magistrate Mikus. A brutish Dashade grabbed Fehkla Gorr and hoisted him up in the air, bringing the Huralok down on their knee.
Not all of the patrons were caught off guard quite as Drakmos had hoped, however. Madame Maeva grabbed the arm of a knife-wielding Cosian that had been approaching her from behind, expertly disarming him and using the knife to slit his throat. Some of the other assassins had chosen their targets poorly, such as a spindly Rodian assailant going after a Houk crime lord, or a diminutive Vulptereen taking his chance with a Dowutin. For all the coordination and planning Drakmos thought he had given this moment, clearly it had not been enough.
And then, there was Malvis.
The leader of the Cabal rose from his seat, calmly, as if there wasn’t a massacre unfolding before his very eyes. He straightened his golden robe, stared directly at Drakmos with cold blue eyes… then, he vanished into thin air, his holographic image winking out of existence.
Drakmos’s eyes widened in rage as he let out a furious roar. Spreading his massive draconian wings, he launched up in the air and landed directly in the middle of the table, splitting it in two and sending food and silverware flying everywhere. He picked up the piece of the table in front of him and tossed it aside, giving him a clear view of a petrified Sal Orbego. Upon seeing the enraged Drakmos, the Pa’lowick turned on his feet and started to run for the door, but Drakmos was far more faster than him. Within seconds he was behind Orbego and had him pinned to the floor, looming over him with his clawed hands bared.
“WHERE IS MALVIS?!” the Despised One boomed, his voice rocking the fortress.
“I—I don’t know!” Orbego squeaked. “I—I had no idea he was a hologram! I swear—”
“LIAR! YOU MUST KNOW SOMETHING! NOW TELL ME, WHERE IS MALVIS?! IS HE STILL ON HIS SHIP?!”
“N—no, he can’t be! He—he left with me on the shuttle….”
“You’re lying. I know you’re lying. I will not be deceived! I will not! I. AM. DRAKMOS!”
With that, he drew himself up, lifted his foot, and stomped on Orbego’s prone form, crushing the Pa’lowick with a sickening crunch. He then took off towards the door, smashing his way through and scanning the area before him. There were numerous starships parked outside of the fortress; any one of them could have belonged to Malvis. Perhaps he should not have been so hasty in executing Orbego, so that the Pa’lowick could have identified it for him. But no matter. He would just have to destroy them all.
Just as he was about to set off to begin his rampage, he heard a voice speak from behind him. He recognized it instantly as Malvis’s voice.
“A commendable attempt, I will give you that.”
Drakmos whirled around, but saw no sign of Malvis; only the carnage that was still unfolding in the Grand Hall. “WHERE ARE YOU?!” he roared.
“I am all around you,” Malvis said. “I am in your head. Just as I have always been.”
“Impossible,” Drakmos breathed. “No man has this kind of power.”
“But I do. The dark side of the Force lends itself to such talents.”
“You… you’re one of them, aren’t you? A Sith. Like Vader.”
“No. Not like Vader. Although, now that you mention it, I would have liked to have his grandson be the one to personally dispatch you. It would have lent itself to a poetic kind of irony.”
Drakmos clenched and unclenched his claws, spinning around aimlessly in a blind fury. “What are you, then? Where are you? What is the meaning of all this?”
“There is no sense in giving you my location,” Malvis replied. “You will never find me. As for what I am… I suppose I owe you such an explanation, after this long.”
Drakmos started to breathe heavily, awaiting Malvis’s words with bated breath.
“I—or rather, Malvis—was nothing more than a mask. A façade designed to gather you and your ilk in order to carry out my plans; plans that I could not entrust with my many other minions spread across the galaxy. I had my hands deep in the political world, but not the criminal one, and using my true identity would have jeopardized my position in either one. So I created Malvis to ingratiate myself to the Society and gather the assets I needed to form the Cabal and carry out my schemes for it. I kept my distance from you and your others so that you would not sense my true nature; believe it or not, I do find you to be an intelligent being, and I’m sure you would have figured out my true nature before long had you known me personally enough.
“But now that the Cabal has fulfilled its intended purpose, there is no need to wear this mask. You have already saved me the trouble of tying up the loose ends that the other crime lords posed, although some of them may continue to be of further use.
“As for what I am… I am the Supreme Leader. I am Snoke.”
Drakmos suddenly felt cold as a large shadow fell over him. He looked up towards the sky and saw a massive shape blotting out the sun, hovering over the fortress of Vostal, the abode of his ancestors.
“And you are no longer of any use to me.”
A great green bolt of energy shot down from the sky and Drakmos knew no more, his world enveloped in a bright white light.
* * *
Far above the city of Vostal, Snoke watched as the fortress of Drakmos the Despised burned. He almost found it a shame that things had to come to this point; while he had always intended to get rid of the Cabal leadership one way or another, Ord Talavos itself had proven to be a useful location and he had hoped to make further use of it. Still, it was a beautiful sight if only in a tragic way.
Beside his command seat, the creature known as the Xylini slithered beside him, curling up at the armrest of his throne. The Xylini—whom Snoke knew as Xyl’skr—had been a useful asset in making sure that the Cabal’s operatives carried out their tasks in a successful manner. While he had helped Drakmos in his betrayal to the rest of the Cabal, his true loyalties lied with the Supreme Leader, as they had for many, many years.
“And so another chapter closes,” said Xyl’skr, his white face grinning, “as a new one begins.”
“Indeed,” said Snoke. “Now, we can move on to more pressing matters.”
He pressed a control on the right armrest of his seat and spoke into the open comm channel. “OneOne-FourDee, this is your master speaking. Have you succeeded in your mission?”
“Yes, Supreme Leader,” responded the droid known as 11-4D. “I have determined the location of the Resistance’s base. It is on D’Qar, located in the Ileenium system within the Sanbra sector.”
Snoke grinned, his smile creasing his scarred face. “Excellent work. I want you to transmit the location through this channel; it should send it to all ships within the First Order’s fleet.”
“As you command, Supreme Leader.”
Within seconds, the transmission had been sent. Satisfied, Snoke leaned back in his seat and ordered the pilot of his ship to depart from Ord Talavos. It was time to leave the planet—and what had once been the Malvis Cabal—behind.
Ahead of him, victory awaited.
No comments:
Post a Comment