Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Withering Glare, Conclusion

WITHERING GLARE, CONCLUSION

    "I don't know about this."

    "Look, it's okay if you say no," said Zarin Kal, sitting in front of Valrisa aboard the latter's ship. "You can just drop me off at the nearest spaceport city. But you're the only one I can trust, Sare."

    "Why, because I used to be a Jedi like you?" Valrisa replied, arms folded. "I wasn't even one for that long; I left after no more than a year."

    "Yes, I know. But at this point...." Zarin sighed. "I can't return to the Jedi. Their path is no longer mine. My destiny now lies with the Whills."

    Typha let out a barely restrained snort. Valrisa gave her a look.

    "I'm sorry," the Pantoran said, trying in vain to hide a smirk. "It's just... that name is so... dumb."

    Zarin nodded. "I'll admit it doesn't sound very enticing, but I hear that Whill scriptures -- what few that have been recovered -- go for astronomical prices."

    "Uh-huh." Valrisa gave him an impassive look. "Still sounds like a wild yunax chase."

    "Again, you can drop me off--"

    "Oh, I didn't say I was going to do that." Valrisa smiled wryly. "In fact, I think we can use the extra hand."

    Zarin blinked. "Really?"

    "Of course. After what happened today, my mom is bound to send her goons after me and Typha. Plus, you're a Kiffar, so any artifacts we find you can help verify."

    Zarin looked uneasy at that. "I, uh, don't think my abilities can be used to quite that extent."

    "...And you're a Sith. Dark Jedi. Force user. Whatever. Point is, you can use a lightsaber."

    "Ah, I see what you're getting at. So we have a deal then?"

    "Deal." Valrisa turned around in her seat to face the canvas of space. "Right then. Next stop: Spira."

    "Yes!" Typha jumped out of her seat to hug Valrisa. "Thank you! Thank you!"

    Zarin raised an eyebrow. "What's on Spira?"

    "The best beach resort in the galaxy," Valrisa replied. "It's been a long week for us all. I think we're all due for some rest."

    "Yeah." Zarin allowed himself a smile. "I think so as well."

*  *  *

    "...So, in conclusion, Hahgalor Mos is dead, the artifact Sare Valrisa was selling is lost, and Valrisa herself has gone AWOL." The purple-skinned Pa'lowick lowered the datapad in his hands, twitching his elongated luscious lips. "Couple this with the death of Alazar and the situation with Altech Industries... needless to say, thinks are not going good for the Cabal."

    "When I want your opinion, Orbego, I'll ask for it," snarled the hidden leader and namesake of the Malvis Cabal. "Besides, this is no more than a minor inconvenience. Alazar and Mos can both be replaced, and the droids from Altech can be recalled. I'm sure Vertseth or Loratus will be willing to take their place."

    Malvis fell silent for a moment and Orbego waited patiently for a dismissal until his superior spoke up again. "This Sare Valrisa... she is the daughter of Sareth Valrisa, correct? The Dowager of Sedratis?"

    "Indeed, sir." Orbego swayed on his gangling legs."However... from what I've gathered, she was disowned by her mother thirteen years ago."

    "Any indication as to why?"

    "Nothing I know for a fact. However... Sedratis is a Core World and a very conservative one at that; more so than any other planet in its region. And... to my understanding, Sare Valrisa is in a public relationship with another female."

    "The Pantoran."

    "Yes, Typha Lorr. Another outcast of a big-name family, funnily enough, albeit for different reasons." Orbego cleared his throat, tapping his fingers against his datapad. "So, yeah, don't know for certain, but when you put two and two together...."

    "How long has Valrisa been working for us?"

    "She took up her first job under our employ three years ago. Before that, she was working for a Black Sun Vigo before they, ah, kicked the bucket."

    Malvis was silent again. Orbego heard the sound of movement before his superior spoke once more.

    "Send me through to the Dowager. I think there's an enlightening conversation to be had."

END OF

WITHERING GLARE

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Withering Glare, Part IV

WITHERING GLARE, PART IV

    Mother had always said patience was a virtue.

    In his many years of life, Nasoth Alarin had found that to very well be the case. After nearly seventy years, all of his patience and hard work was about to be paid off. And to think, he didn't even have to lift a finger.

    He wondered what Mother and Father would have thought if they were still around. They would have been proud, of course, although Father would have been more than a bit jealous that his son had succeeded where he had not. Typical Father. If he had not wasted his time in the Jedi Order, he just might have succeeded.

    Hearing the sound of ship engines come from outside, Nasoth excitedly got to his feet. This startled his Rodian Sith guard, who narrowed his bulbous black eyes.

    "What are you doing?" asked Jark Kenu.

    "Standing," Nasoth said simply.

    "I can see that. But... why?"

    "Because my partner is here."

    "Your part--" Kenu suddenly gagged and reached for his constricting throat. With a wave of his hand, Nasoth caused the shield to his cell to drop and he calmly stepped out just as the Rodian fell to his knees.

    "Tell Lord Krayt that I thank him for his hospitality as well as for his assistance," Nasoth said, only to see that Kenu had already expired. With a shrug, the Givin made for the temple's exit, facing no further opposition.

    Outside, he found what had once been the Snatchers' vessel waiting for him. Standing by the ship was another Givin, clad in a black cloak with a hood raised over his head. In his hands was the artifact known as the Eye of Kaas.

    "At last." Nasoth clasped his hands together. "Did the Snatchers perform their task well?"

    "No," Sladru Nalas replied with disgust. "Before they even landed they had started killing one another. You should have let me handle the task by myself."

    "And risk losing you? Don't be ridiculous. At your age, you're lucky enough to even stand straight."

    "I'm only seventy-nine."

    "Yes, and eighty is the average Givin's life span. Don't push your luck, dear."

    "Whatever." Sladru handed him the artifact. "I just hope this is worth all the struggle."

    "It will be, my love. It will be." Taking the Eye of Kaas, Nasoth studied it closely, just to make sure it was the genuine article. Relics of the Nakgru era had a very unique style, which set it apart from the Graush period onward. It made artifacts such as this worth more than any other in the galaxy combined.

    As Nasoth continued to marvel at the artifact, Sladru leaned over his shoulder. "Are we ready to go then?"

    "Another minute," Nasoth murmured, gazing into the Eye. "I want to savor this moment."

    "It's a long way back home. You'll have plenty of time to--"

    "No." Nasoth shook his head. "We're not going back home."

    Sladru frowned. "What are you talking about?"

    "Don't you see, love?" Nasoth gestured at the Sith Temple before them. "The Force has led us to this moment. The last of the Sith are gathered on this world... and here we have, in our hands, the key to destroying them."

    "No!" Sladru grabbed his partner by the arm. "You can't be serious! If you do what I think you're planning to do, you'll end up killing us both!"

    "The greatest heroes make the biggest sacrifices--"

    "Nas, look at me!" Sladru gently grabbed Nasoth's face and forced him to meet his eyes. "You can't do this! Not after everything we've done! You'll be wasting several decades worth of work!"

    "How is destroying the greatest evil of the galaxy a waste?" Nasoth asked.

    "But what about the Whills? You've spent all your life searching for them, as did your father and grandfather before you." Sladru sighed as he took Nasoth's hand in his own. "You are the last Alarin, Nas. If you do this, then everything your family's done will be for nothing."

    Nasoth was silent for a long moment. He looked from his partner to the artifact to the Sith Temple. Then he cast his gaze to the ground and sighed.

    "You're right. I... I don't know what got into me."

    "It's the artifact," Sladru said, grimacing. "It's clouding your mind. Maybe...."

    Nasoth looked up at him. "Maybe what?"

    "Maybe we should get rid of it. It--"

    "What?!" Nasoth stepped back from the other Givin, staring at him in disbelief. "Are you crazy? After everything we've done to get it...."

    "I know, I know," Sladru sighed. "It may very well be our only lead to the Whills. But if this is the effect it's going to have on you--"

    "Just a minute ago you were telling me I was wasting everything my family has done! Now you're suggesting we should get rid of the first thing in sixty years that can help us on our quest!"

    "We'll find something else! Trust me! Besides, I've already recruited someone--"

    "You've what?" Nasoth's face was a storm of emotions. "You've recruited someone?"

    "Yes, a former Sith named Zarin Kal. He's a Kiffar, so with his psychometric abilities--"

    "This was supposed to be our thing!" Nasoth exploded in rage. "You and me! No one else! How... how could you...?"

    Sladru sighed. "You were always stubborn when it came to involving others in our quest. I don't know how many times I suggested we involve the Guardians on Jedha or even the Disciples."

    "You don't understand!" Nasoth snapped. "Those fools were heretics! Unworthy of the Mark! You and I are the only true Seekers! Everyone else is... is beneath us! Inferior!"

    Sladru frowned. "That's the artifact talking again. Let it go, Nas. Please, just... let it go."

    "No." Nasoth raised the Eye of Kaas, which began to glow red in his hands. "I'm done listening to you. I'm not going to let you stand in the way of my destiny. Not anymore."

    "Nas...." Sladru closed his eyes. "Don't...."

    The Givin said nothing as he raised the artifact to the sky, red lightning crackling into dark clouds.

*  *  *

    Zarin's hands hovered over the ship's weapons systems, his eyes glued to the scene playing out before him.

    On the one hand, he wanted to help Sladru and his partner in their search for the Whills. It was a path light-years ahead of being a Sith and even appealed to him better than the path of a Jedi. Besides, he had accepted the Mark and would be remiss to betray it so soon after receiving it.

    But at the same time... if Nasoth proceeded with his plan, it would mean the final destruction of the Sith. Darth Krayt, the Marked Ones, and the others would all be wiped out. The galaxy would never have to worry about them again. Of course, it would also mean Viron and Natia would perish as well...

    However, Viron had told him -- in secret -- that he would have been willing to die for anything if it meant the end of the Sith. And Natia... Natia, Zarin feared, was far too gone. As much as he hated to admit it, she was a lost cause.

    Returning his attention to the viewport, he saw that Nasoth was raising the artifact to the sky. Red lightning was crackling from it. Zarin bit his lip, unsure of what to do.

    Go.

    The Kiffar was almost pushed back by the voice's sudden entrance into his mind. "Sladru?" he whispered.

    Go, Zarin. Live. Survive. Find the Whills. Our destiny is now yours.

    Almost without thinking, Zarin controlled the ship to lift off. Below him, the Givin couple began to grow smaller and smaller.

    Thank you, Zarin Kal. Were they both speaking now? May the Force be with you.

    The ship had barely reached the atmosphere when a red explosion erupted below....

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Withering Glare, Part III

WITHERING GLARE, PART III

    Peering from the ceiling vent which he hid in, Thovak chuckled at the scene playing out below.

    Trask was down for the count, but not dead. Thovak had made sure to set Vosin's blaster for stun, ensuring she would be too confused to do anything when the Weequays attacked her. With everyone distracted, this left the Eye of Kaas ripe for the taking.

    After undoing the last bolt, Thovak removed the grill and began to calculate his next move. He could jump down onto the pedestal, hit the two females with poison darts, make a getaway for the exit... but surely that would be blocked. He would need a distraction.

    He looked down at his belt to see what kind of explosives he had... and saw one was already blinking red. His eyes widened. Since when did he--

*  *  *

    The explosion was Karvis' cue.

    With the rest of the room distracted, he made a dash for the relic. No one stopped him at first, as he was still in the disguise of a guard. Dodging the falling pieces of rubble, he reached for the Eye of Kaas, now exposed from its transparisteel dome. Without warning, he was tackled from behind and ended up on the floor, locked in the grip of one of the guards.

    "I knew you looked suspicious," the Weequay growled. "Jhok told me not to worry about you, but he was always the dumber sibling...."

    Snarling, Karvis managed to free his arm and elbowed the guard in the face. As the Weequay fell back, Karvis got back to his feet and started to go back for the relic... only to fall to his knees, gasping as he clawed at the toxin dart jutting from his neck. The room around began to spin and then... nothing.

*  *  *

    "Hey! That's mine! I won it fair and--"

    "Cool it, Mos," Valrisa snapped as she picked up the Eye of Kaas. "I'm just making sure it isn't damaged."

    "Well, I already see one thing that is."

    Valrisa froze at the sound of the old hag's voice. Eyes blazing, she gritted her teeth as she said, "Hello, mother."

    "Don't call me that," the Dowager spat back. "You lost that right long ago."

    Turning sharply on her heel, Valrisa came fact to face with the woman who had spawned her. Cold blue eyes met hers as a long silence passed between them. The Dowager's server droid MR-V watched on with its triangular green optics.

    Finally, Valrisa spoke. "You'r right. My mistake. I didn't think you would be so public about family drama and would try to keep up appearances."

    "Don't be ridiculous," the Dowager scoffed. "I've been very public of my disowning of you. The rest of the galaxy should be aware of your transgression and learn to stay away from you."

    "I somehow doubt the rest of the galaxy shares your view."

    The Dowager's nostrils flared in anger and she opened her narrow maw to speak but was stopped by the sudden appearance of Typha.

    "Come on, Val, we shouldn't keep Mos waiting." The Pantoran then paused to look at the Dowager. "Have we met?"

    The older woman glared at her with the fury of a thousand suns. "I see you've already found yourself a piffer to--"

    Valrisa silenced her with the sharp raise of a hand. "Do not finish that sentence," she snarled. "I promise you'll regret it."

    The Dowager continued to glare at her before sniffing as she pivoted around. "I've already wasted enough time here. Come, Marv, and don't forget the bust."

    "As your will commands, mistress," MR-V dully replied, following her with the bust of Count Nalju in its hands.

    As they left, Typha looked over at Valrisa, frowning. "Was that...?"

    "Yes."

    "She's worse than you described her."

    Valrisa said nothing, instead walking over to Hahgalor Mos and handing the relic to his servant Brophar.

    "There you go," she said to the Chevin. "I trust that my payment has already been transferred?"

    "Uh, yeah." Hahgalor looked over to Brophar. "How much did I bid for it again?"

    "Forty-two million credits, sir."

    "Forty-two--?!" Hahgalor's jaw dropped, a feat Valrisa didn't think was possible. "You can't be serious! Please tell me you aren't serious!"

    "I am serious, sir."

    Hahgalor clutched his enormous head. "By Soth's Great Jaw... what was I thinking?"

    Valrisa cleared her throat. "So... is that a yes?"

    "The money has indeed been transferred to your account," Brophar said.

    "Good." She turned and waved to Typha. "Come on, Typh. Time to go."

*  *  *

    Dorga Honda tapped his thumbs against the handle of his rotary blaster cannon. They would be coming out any minute now. It would not be long.

    As he waited, he tried to pass the time by doing math in his head. He wasn't particularly good at it; only when it came to profits.

    The Givin said we'd each get twenty percent. There was eight of us then. I killed Mador, making that seven. No, six. I just killed Graggna. So that would make it... forty percent? Wait, why am I even doing this? I'm trying to kill them all. Stupid Dorga.

    Yes, very stupid Dorga.

    The Aqualish blinked. That hadn't been him, had it? He wasn't crazy like Rega. No, that had been someone from behind him. Dorga didn't have time to turn around however, as in that span of time of him trying to figure things out, a red lightsaber had pierced him from behind and he was suddenly on the ground, watching through blurry eyes as the black-robed man walked past his dying body and entered the building.

*  *  *

    "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

    "I told you I should've worn my mask," Valrisa bitterly replied as she and Typha walked towards the exit.

    "Look, I didn't know your mom was gonna be there!" Typha said. "I just thought it would be rude if you kept your mask on. Besides...."

    Valrisa looked over her shoulder at the Pantoran. "Besides what?"

    Typha cast her gaze downward, twirling a strand of pink hair with her finger. "Your bangs make you look cute."

    Feeling her cheeks redden, Valrisa returned her eyes to the entrance up ahead. The door was already open and a man clad in black was walking up towards them. His hair was long and dark, and a black tattoos were etched all around his face, with a single gold one stretching across the bridge of his nose.

    Valrisa stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening. "Zarin?"

    The man stopped as well, his mouth falling open. "Sare?"

    "Boy, it's just one warm reunion after the other," Typha said dryly. "Look, can we just leave already? I'm already sick of this--"

    She was cut off by a scream coming from down the hall. All three turned to see Hahgalor Mos standing there, a hole burning between his eyes. From behind the Chevin appeared a Givin in a black cloak, carrying the Eye of Kaas in his hands.

    "If you want something done," the Givin said as he strode towards the group, "you must do it yourself."

    "Nasoth?" Zarin sounded incredulous. "But... but you're in Lord Krayt's captivity."

    The Givin stopped and stared at Zarin, looking him up and down. "You're one of Krayt's Sith?"

    Zarin blinked. "Um, yeah?"

    "Pity. I had expected better." The Givin held up his hand, the palm on which a strange symbol was drawn on. "But you'll do."

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Withering Glare, Part II

WITHERING GLARE, PART II

--Ord Talavos--

    Life was miserable.

    This, as far as MR-V was concerned, was fact. Life, as he had experienced it, was the most miserable, most wretched thing in the entire galaxy. And if anyone doubted him, he had 394 years worth of data to prove them wrong.

    Not that it would make a difference, of course. He was constantly surrounded by organics too stupid and blind to see the truth. Granted, life seemed to pass by too fast for them to recognize its many glaring flaws. That, and they were too busy with multiplying themselves, which only surrounded him with more idiots to serve.

    For the past century had he been serving his current family, after his previous one mysterious died out. While he would never admit to ever being fond of any of the organics he had come to serve, he did consider the Dowager to be the least miserable company. That wasn't saying much, of course -- he was always supremely miserable -- but it was something in the void of nothing that was his life.

    All of that however failed to avail his current feeling of eternal depression as he stood in a room filled with disgusting organics of all shapes and sizes. He calculated an approximate of 42 different species, ranging from humans to Bah'r Kilidos to Sy Myrthians, all totaling an approximate of 151 sapient beings. All of these beings were bidding on the same worthless item.

    This was going to take a depressingly long time.

    MR-V stood beside his master as the last of the would-be bidders filed into the room. The Dowager, as she was known for her remarkable record of deceased husbands, observed them all with her usual face of utter distaste, her pointed nose wrinkling to add a few more creases to her face.

    "More than half of these people want me dead," she said.

    MR-V did not reply. He never did. His thoughts were never asked for.

    "Honestly, the kind of people Malvis allows into his cabal. Hahgalor Mos, Gaar Tandoon, Drakmos the Despised... I remember the days when only the most prestigious were given the pleasure of joining."

    Every bit of MR-V's circuitry wanted to remark on the fact that all of those the Dowager had mentioned had power bases equal to her's in terms of wealth and prestige, if not greater. But he knew what happened to droids who dared to speak out. So he kept silent, as always.

    Up ahead, the ebony-skinned Sakiyan auctioneer was emerging, followed by mobile pedestals which carried the objects to be bid on, the last one being the gem of the day. The small triangular totem was protected by a transparisteel dome. Many failed to see how such a pathetic little thing could be worth anything, let alone attract the interest of so many people.

    But what did he know? He was just a server droid.

    Shifting his gaze elsewhere, MR-V noticed a pair of organic females sitting just off to the side, not far from where the auctioneer stood. One was a young Pantoran while the other looked to be a human with black hair, although her head was bowed to hide her face.

    Normally MR-V would not waste more than a gigabyte of memory on an organic -- or anyone for that matter -- but something about the human was keeping his attention. A number of subroutines were acting up, sensors screeching at him. This human was important, they were telling him. If only he knew why....

    A loud ring sounded and the room quieted down. The auctioneer cleared his throat as he held up a microphone.

    "Hello! Thank you all for coming. My name is Kodai Loh, curator of the Braglon Museum. Today, I would like to present to you an object that, while it may not look like much, is actually...."

    MR-V tuned out the auctioneer's speech. He was not programmed to have any interest in whatever was going on. He was a server droid; nothing more. He couldn't care less about this stupid totem. He didn't know what a 'Sith' or a 'Teth' was, nor did he cared about this Vasim Alazar person or the fact that the two organics who retrieved the artifact were named Typha Lorr and--

    "Sare Valrisa."

    MR-V's sensors pricked up at that. His optics instantly went to the dark-haired woman, whose head now hung even lower. So that was why his subroutines had been acting up. Even though it had been a very long time, his memory banks still registered her name and face. Sare Valrisa, famed bounty hunter and artifact collector.

    Sare Valrisa, daughter of the Dowager Valrisa. Estranged daughter.

    Suddenly, although he still felt utterly depressed about everything, things had gotten just a bit more interesting. Seeing the rictus of anger on the Dowager's face all but confirmed that.

*  *  *

    The auction had begun. It was time to get to work.

    Trask had already seven security guards on the building's premises. While Thovak and Karvis worked on bringing that number down, he tasked Lind Rega with hacking into their main grid.

    "We need to get that door open without raising any alarms," Trask had told her. "Subtlety is key here."

    "Won't we be raising alarms anyway by stealing this artifact?" the Ishi Tib had replied.

    "Well, yeah, but we don't want to announce ourselves too early. There'd be no fun in that."

    In short time, the outside guards had been dispatched and Rega had gotten the door open. Trask then had Thovak and Karvis bring him two of the guards' uniforms for him and Shel Vosin to put on.

    "What if they don't have any Anomid guards?" Vosin had asked. "Won't that raise some suspicion?"

    "Shel, what did I tell you about raising needless concerns?"

    The Anomid kept quiet after that.

    Once the two of them were in, Rega closed the door behind them while Dorga and Graggna took position outside. Thovak had already done his part for now while Karvis was on his own. If only they still had Mador; then Trask would feel a little less apprehensive about this whole sting.

    Upon reaching the auction room, the two Snatchers found themselves lost in a crowd of sentient creatures of various species, all from the many factions of Malvis' cabal. To Trasks's discomfort, he recognized a good majority of them.

    "Keep your face shield down," he murmured to Vosin, already pulling down his.

    "Why?"

    "So we don't get caught, moron."

    "Oh," the Anomid said sheepishly as she lowered her helmet's face shield. "Sorry."

    Pushing their way through the crowd, Trask and Vosin eventually took position against the wall, midway between the door and where the Sakiyan auctioneer stood with the items two Weequay guards protected the artifact, their leathery faces impassive behind their face shields.

    "So how do we go about this?" Vosin whispered to him. "Wait until someone wins it and then corner them?"

    "Probably our best bet," Trask replied, carefully observing the proceedings. The auctioneer was rapidly firing off prices, with the representatives of each party raising it higher.

    "Sold! The portrait of Queen Yram goes to Gaar Tandoon of the Tandoon Clan!"

    Trask heard Vosin make a derisive noise. "Come on. Who'd be interested in--"

    "Focus!" Trask hissed. "We don't want to miss the name of whoever wins the artifact."

    "Sold! The bust of Count Nalju goes to the Dowager Valrisa!"

    "Oh stars, the Dowager is here?" Vosin scanned the crowd to see an old, elegantly dressed woman with hair clearly dyed yellow. "No wonder you want us to keep a low profile. I doubt she's forgotten about--"

    "Focus, Shel," Trask snapped. "The relic is after this one."

    He pulled at his collar, his face starting to sweat. He couldn't help but feel as if someone's eyes were on him. As far as he could tell, all of the Cabal members were focused on the items being auctioned off. Perhaps it was just nerves.

    "Sold! The mural of the Siege of Belasco goes to Drakmos the Despised!"

    "Say, Trask?" Vosin murmured.

    Trask closed his eyes, trying his best not to explode in anger. "Vosin, I swear to--"

    "I think that Pantoran over there is staring at you."

    Opening his eyes, Trask looked over to see a blue-skinned woman sitting near the auctioneer, along with a dark-haired woman. Indeed, the blue girl was staring directly at him.

    "Oh stars...." he muttered.

    "What? She a friend of yours?"

    Trask did not answer. He almost forgot where he was until he heard the voices in the room getting louder. Everyone was bidding for the Eye of Kaas now, climbing well past the reserve price. The Pantoran's eyes were off him now, instead looking surprised at the outrageous prices the gangsters were bidding for a simple artifact. Eventually, things began to calm and Kodai Loh clapped his hands.

    "Sold! The Eye of Kaas goes to Hahgalor Mos!"

    That was it then. They had their target. At least it was the Chevin and not Drakmos. That would have made things particularly tricky.

    "Let's head outside," he said to Vosin. "I'll radio Rega and--"

    "Sorry, Trask."

    He blinked and looked back at Vosin, who had her blaster raised at him. "What...?"

    "I'm doing things my way."

    She pulled the trigger and everything went dark.

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Withering Glare, Part I

WITHERING GLARE, PART I

    Today was the day. The day of the auction.

    Well, not quite "day" at the moment. The moon still shone bright in Ord Talavos' sky, stars glittering in the black void. But it was well past midnight and Valrisa still had not slept a wink.

    She still couldn't quite put her finger on why she was feeling apprehensive. It wasn't the auction itself; she knew she was going to profit from it one way or another. It most certainly wasn't the artifact; she didn't believe in that "cursed" claptrap many spouted.

    Perhaps it was what that old Koorivar had told her on Bar'leth; about the Sith she had encountered on Tatooine. But she wasn't scared by some lunatics with red lightsabers... was she? Or rather, she wasn't scared for herself... but rather for those she held closest.

    What are you talking about? You're a bounty hunter. Only thing you care about are the credits.

    There it was again, that voice. The voice of her self-doubt. Ever since Tatooine it had been speaking up, questioning her every act. No matter how many times she told it to shut up, it just kept on talking.

    I'm losing my mind.

    She was broken from her thoughts by the rustling of bedsheets. She suddenly became conscious of the person whom lay beside her, hogging all of the covers to keep warm. The only person she held above herself.

    Don't be ridiculous. You're only in this for yourself.

    "Shut up," she grunted under her breath.

    You really think she cares about you? What makes you think she won't abandon you like all the others she has ditched?

    Valrisa sat up and swung her legs over her side of the bed. Typha did not stir as she got to her feet and walked to the refresher.

    She certainly likes to bring up all of her past flames. That alone should raise some red flags.

    She didn't know what good splashing water in her face would do, but it was all she could think of. She quickly stopped, hoping it hadn't wakened Typha. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that the Pantoran was still fast asleep.

    It's a miracle she's stuck with you this long.

    She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The voice had a point; she hadn't expected this relationship to last longer than a few months yet here they were pushing three years. That was a record, especially for a pair of bounty hunters. Most partnerships, romantic or otherwise, between fringers never lasted for long, with one or both parties usually stabbing each other in the back before long. Maybe this actually meant something.

    Don't get your hopes up.

    Sighing quietly, she walked out of the refresher and climbed back into bed, being careful not to wake Typha. The azure girl still did not move, continuing to snore softly. Laying her head down on the pillow, Valrisa stared at the ceiling, watching the chronometer slowly count away the hours of the night.

    It was going to be a long day.

*  *  *

    There was less than a hour left until daybreak and Hahgalor Mos was already waiting for the day to be over.

    He had never been the patient type, but the past few days had been rather eventful for him. After learning about Vasim Alazar's faulty droid, he had immediately contacted Alazar's company Altech Industries, who supplied most of the droids within his organization. However, the Gossam CEO had simply brushed off his concerns and hung up on him, despite Hahgalor's threats.

    Now, not only was he paranoid of his droids, but he was also conscious of the fact that his threats were no longer, well, threatening. Maybe Altech Industries were simply used to angry crime bosses... or maybe he was losing his touch.

    No! Impossible. He was the great Hahgalor Mos, feared by all. The idea of someone not fearing him was unfathomable. Something was afoot. He had to get to the bottom of this.

    Shifting in his sleeping pod, he searched for the comm panel and pressed it to hail Brophar, his chief aide. A minute passed. No response. He pressed it again. Same result.

    Blasted thing's broken again. Growling to himself, Hahgalor moved to under the front latch of his pod so he could get out. The latch did not budge, however. No matter how hard he pushed it with his massive hands, it would not open.

    That was when he noticed the figure standing in front of him.

    He opened his mouth to yell out for his guards but something compelled him to stop. Instead, he simply watched as the figure approached him, their features difficult to discern in the darkness of his room. When they spoke, it was not in a voice he would associate with any sentient being, Chevin or otherwise.

    "Everything is fine."

    Hahgalor blinked, confusion washing away his fear. "What?" he said blankly.

    "Everything is fine. There is nothing to be worried about."

    He found himself nodding, although he wasn't sure why. "Yeah. You're right."

    "You will have a good day. You will be happy."

    The Chevin couldn't fight the grin that crossed his face. "Exactly. And don't you forget it."

    "Sleep well."

    With that, the figure disappeared and Hahgalor found himself quickly drifting away, content with himself.

    It was going to be a good day.

*  *  *

    The information they had extracted from Delnar had checked out. Valrisa and the artifact were indeed on Ord Talavos. Trask Moran found it strange that he'd never heard of the planet before now, but after a bit of researching, he soon found out why. 

    Established as a military outpost during the Old Republic's early years, it was left abandoned following a climatic battle between the Jedi and the Sith, and was all but forgotten by the time of the Ruusan Reformations. It was only rediscovered as recent as ten years ago by Black Sun, who established operations on the planet. When Black Sun collapsed, the mysterious Malvis Cabal immediately laid claim to the world and had made it the center of their network.

    Trask also found it curious that Ord Talavos wasn't far from Takodana, a similar haven for smugglers and pirates. He couldn't help but wonder if Maz Kanata was aware of Malvis' business and vice versa.

    Still, that didn't matter now. He and his crew were only here to do their job and get paid. In and out. One and done.

    Leaning back in his pilot seat, Trask glanced at his chrono. It was nearly dawn in the city of Vostal and the auction would be two hours after that. They still had a while to wait. Luckily, the Snatchers were a patient bunch.

    Hearing movement behind him, he turned around to see a burly Aqualish standing in the entrance to the cockpit. His black eyes were narrowed and his tusks clicked together quietly.

    "Can I help you?" Trask asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "There seems to be a problem with Mador," Dorga Honda replied.

    Trask waited for him to elaborate. When the Aqualish did not, he asked, "What's wrong with him?"

    "I think you should see for yourself."

    Rolling his eyes, Trask rose from his seat and followed Dorga out of the cockpit. The Aqualish took him portside, where Mador's quarters were located. The door was open and Trask could see right away what exactly Mador's problem was.

    "He's dead," he murmured, staring at the bloodied corpse of an Abyssin slumped against the doorway.

    "I know," Dorga replied.

    Trask gave him a look. "Then why didn't you just tell me?"

    "Because I didn't want you to think I did it."

    "How does that--"

    "I bet it was Karvis."

    Trask sighed as he pinched his nose. "Of course you do. You always think it's Karvis."

    "Or it could've been Rega. She's got some screws loose in that star-shaped head of hers."

    "Forget it." Trask waved a hand. "We don't have time to deal with this. Whoever did this, we'll just have to be on the lookout. For now, let's just get rid of the body before it stinks up the ship."

    Without a word, Dorga lumbered towards the deceased Mador and picked up the cyclops' corpse, before heading for the airlock. Trask rubbed his temple as he headed back for the cockpit.

    It was going to be a long day, that much he could tell. He only hoped it would be a good one in the long run.

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: The Dragon's Claw, Part V

THE DRAGON'S CLAW, PART V

--12 years ago (30 ABY)--

    "Another job well done, I say!"

    Cheers and laughter broke out as glasses clinked together. Kyle Katarn smirked in spite of himself as he joined in the celebrations, sitting down next to the blond-haired man at the long table.

    "Don't get into too much of a celebratory mood, Kalen. We might have won here, but there are still Sith huddled in the Esstran sector to deal with."

    Kalen Rusher flashed a roguish grin; a smile that had become his trademark at this point. "Indeed, and we shall deal with them in time. But I'd say today marks a historical point in time."

    He gestured widely to the many seated at the table. Jedi Knights, Republic soldiers, and Imperial troopers all sat together, happily drinking and mingling together.

    "Age old enemies have been united by a single cause: to erase the stain of the Sith." Kalen's smile became a softer one, as if proud of what he was seeing. "I'd say that alone is worth celebrating."

    Kyle found himself unable to argue with that. Their victory here at Endymion had dealt a major blow to the remnants of Darth Vorath's Sith army, with the death of Inquisitor Jerec at Kyle's own hands and the dissolution of all pro-Vorath Imperials. Even with most of the surviving Sith still on Korriban, it was nonetheless a successful mission. Kyle supposed he could drink to that.

    Still, he couldn't muster up the same amount of enthusiasm as Kalen and the others. Perhaps it was due to his old friend Toah not being here to partake in the celebrations. Having been the one to have vanquished Vorath himself, it would have only been fitting for him to be here. However, it had been nearly four years since any word from Toah had been heard.

    In a way, Kalen almost reminded him of Toah. Noble and idealistic, if a bit more reckless and rogue-like, the young man was very much the face of the Jedi Order's future; the first of the next generation. Having just been made a Jedi Knight a year prior at the young age of twenty-five, he was already sparking talks of him being the next "Chosen One"; not in the sense of fulfilling a prophecy, but in serving as an ideal figure to rally behind in times of strife, as Anakin Skywalker had been during the Clone Wars.

    Of course, everyone knew how that had turned out....

    Kyle was distracted from his thoughts by the approach of a brown-furred being. The female Cathar, named Nyyra, was one of the three Jedi Knights collectively known as "Kalen's Angels," as they had all trained alongside Kalen and been knighted at his urging. She had a worried look on her feline face as she walked up to Kalen. All of the activity around them died down, as if sensing that something was off.

    "Kalen," Nyyra murmured. "You should come see this."

    Kalen rose from his seat. "What is it?"

    "It's Sare. She and.... Look, just come with me."

    Kalen wasted no time in following the Cathar. Kyle sat there for a moment before going after them, saying to the others, "Jedi business. Nothing to worry about. Carry on."

    He knew it wouldn't do any good, but it was all he could think to say as he left.

*  *  *

    "Natia! Stop this now!"

    Taana Di's pleas fell on deaf ears as the red-haired girl chased after the dark-haired one, the latter quickening her pace towards a solitary Jedi starfighter. Tears streamed down Natia's face as sorrow and anger danced in her green eyes.

    "You can't leave me, Sare! This isn't how it's meant to be!"

    "Natia, for the last time, I have no interest in being with you," Sare called back. "My future is not with you or with the Jedi. I belong elsewhere."

    Catching up to her apprentice, Taana laid a hand on Natia's shoulder and looked towards Sare. "Are you certain this is your path, Sare? This is not a decision many make lightly."

    Before the younger woman could answer, a voice called out from nearby. "Sare!"

    She turned to see Kalen Rusher running up to her, followed closely by Nyyra and Kyle Katarn. Seeing the concern in her master's eyes, she avoided meeting his gaze, knowing it would only make her second guess herself.

    "Sare, what are you doing?" Kalen asked, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Are you... you're not leaving, are you?"

    She blew out her breath. "I'm sorry, Master, but this is something I must do."

    "What are you talking about? You've barely begun training--"

    "Yes, but I can already tell that it is not for me. The life of a Jedi is not the one I seek."

    "Then what is?"

    "I...." She paused, staring off towards Endymion's setting sun, its light vanishing behind the desert buttes. "I'm not sure. I just know that something besides the Force is calling to me."

    Kalen frowned. "It's not the dark side, is it?"

    "No," she assured him. "It's something else. Something I must find." Shrugging his hands off, she stepped away from him and finally met his gaze.

    "I'm sorry, Kalen, but nothing you or anyone else says can stop me. This is my destiny, and you -- all of you -- must accept that."

    She stood there, waiting for him to respond. He did not, simply continuing to stare at her as if his blue eyes were all he needed to make her change her mind. After a minute, Sare turned on her heel and moved towards her ship. Natia tried to take pursuit but Taana's hold on her kept her in place.

    The five Jedi all watched on in silence as the dagger-shaped fighter lifted off from the ground and darted into the sky, vanishing into the falling night.

--Now--

    Zarin lied awake in bed. Sleep did not come easy to one such as him, a Jedi forced to be a Sith. Then again, he rarely tried. When one lived among Sith, it was best to stay alert at all times.

    Instead, he stared at the holocron he had acquired from his grandfather. It was the holocron of Quinlan Vos, a Kiffar Jedi who had lived during the Clone Wars and had survived Order 66. The holocron did not tell him whether or not Vos managed to survive the Purge altogether, but that was not Zarin's concern at present.

    No, what he currently sought from the holocron did not even concern Vos himself. He needed facts and confirmation, and Vos' holocron was the only thing he knew of that could give him that. He wasn't certain if it would, of course, but he had to try.

    Holding the pyramidal object in his hands, Zarin called upon the Force to activate it. Blue light glowed on all of the holocron's sides as a tiny blue figure appeared before him. Quinlan Vos had a strong build, his long black hair tied up in dreads. His cold, wary eyes met Zarin's as the hologram opened its mouth to speak.

    "Greetings, troubled one. My name is Quinlan Vos. What is it that you seek?"

    "Answers," Zarin replied. "I don't know if you will have them, but you're the only one I can turn to."

    Vos inclined his head. "Ask, and I shall answer."

    Zarin took a deep breath before speaking, his tone lowered. "There is a Sith Lord who I am being forced to serve. He calls himself Darth Krayt."

    "I know not of a man by that name."

    "I didn't think so. However... I feel that he is a former Jedi, from the Old Order."

    "What makes you think that?"

    "I've heard him speak of taking revenge on the Jedi, as if he has a personal vendetta with them. He also speaks ill of the Skywalker line and calls them the bane of his existence."

    "I know of many Jedi who fell to the dark side during my time," Vos said. "I was one of them."

    "Yes, but I know it's not you." Zarin thought for a moment, holding his chin. "He calls himself Krayt... could that be in relation to the Krayt dragon of Tatooine?"

    "That would narrow it down," Vos replied wryly. "Anakin Skywalker I know was from Tatooine, as was Sharad Hett and his son A'Sharad."

    "What became of them, the Hetts?"

    "Sharad I know was was killed before the Clone Wars. As for A'Sharad, the last I saw of him was on Saleucami, just before Order 66 was given. I know not of his ultimate fate."

    Zarin nodded, hiding a smile. He finally had his lead. "Very well. Thank you, Master Vos."

    "I am glad I could be of assistance. Is there anything else I can provide you with?"

    Zarin contemplated this, chewing his lip. "You had experience with the dark side, by infiltrating Count Dooku's disciples. How did you handle it? Balancing the dark and the light?"

    "Simple," Vos answered. "I didn't. Had it not been for the love I had for those close to me, I would have been consumed by the dark side. The task I undertook was a foolish one; one I would not recommend anyone else try."

    Zarin sighed. "Right. A bit late for that now...."

    "Have faith, my friend. Hold on to whatever light you can find. Even the smallest of candles can scare the darkness away."

    Zarin snorted, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd hear such a sentiment from Quinlan Vos of all Jedi."

    "They're my master's words, actually. It's only now, after all I've been through, that I see the truth behind them. Perhaps someday, you will too."

    With that, the holocron switched off and Zarin was alone again. Setting the device to the side, he turned over on his side and closed his eyes, hoping to at least get some rest before the sun rose. A long day awaited him.

    Despite his pessimism, he couldn't help but feel enlightened by Vos' words, newfound determination beating in his chest. No matter what it took, he would find a way to slay the dragon and free himself, Natia, and Viron of the dragon's claw. He would find that candle and extinguish the darkness.

    As sleep gradually consumed him, only one name stuck to the front of Zarin's mind as he drifted off.

    A'Sharad Hett.

END OF

THE DRAGON'S CLAW

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: The Dragon's Claw, Part IV

THE DRAGON'S CLAW, PART IV

    Old, tired bones cracked as Dezal Lorn stretched from his office chair. Of all the shifts to work, the graveyard shift had to be the worst. Not only did it not do his sleep schedule any good, but it seemed like the biggest waste of time.

    The droids at Altech Industries did not need supervision at night. In all his years of work -- all thirty-one of them -- he had never witnessed a single droid activate on its own. Sure, he had heard his fair share of stories, and his co-worker Lein had claimed to see one droid's optics flicker on, but he dismissed them all, chalking it up to the night getting to them. They said seeing was believing, and until he saw one of those droids strutting around casually in the middle of the night, he would not believe it.

    Letting out a yawn, Dezal glanced over at the chrono on the wall. Three hours left to go. It might as well have been three years....

    Scooting back his chair, Dezal rose from his seat and retrieved his caf mug. Technically, he wasn't supposed to take his eyes off the droids, but no one was around to enforce that rule. Besides, he would only be gone for three minutes. What harm could--

    He froze, gray eyes staring out the window. The six rows of AX-series security droids stood erect outside, motionless as always.

    He could have sworn he had... no. No, he couldn't have. It had to have been a trick on his tired eyes. He couldn't help but laugh. Now the night was starting to get to him. But he would not go crazy like the others. He knew that for sure.

    Mug in hand, Dezal crossed the room to the caf machine, humming to himself. Setting the cup underneath the dispenser, he began to pour his drink. As he waited for it to fill, he started to get the feeling that something was off.

    He looked at the chrono, which looked to be in working order. The lights were dimmed as per regulation. Computer was off. Door was... open.

    The door was open.

    Dezal stopped the caf machine, his mug half-full. He could have sworn he had closed it. It must had slipped his mind. Perhaps his fifty-nine years were finally catching up to him.

    Leaving his cup on the counter, he moved to close the door before turning back around. Something else was off now, although this time he didn't need a moment to figure it out.

    The computer was on. It definitely hadn't been before.

    He stepped towards the screen. Something was being downloaded onto it and was already at the halfway mark. He squinted his eyes to make out the green text on the screen.

    MB-OMNI Program 5X.

    Dezal frowned. He tried to stop the program from downloading any further but the computer refused to respond. Getting down onto his knees, he reached underneath for the plug.

    "Please don't do that."

    Without warning, Dezal was pulled out from underneath by a strong metal hand. He let out a yell as he was thrown into his office chair, colliding into the desk.

    "You've been at this for thirty-one years, Dezal Lorn."

    Turning around, Dezal saw three AX security droids standing before him, decked out in royal blue and armed with batons. The lead droid, its photoreceptors glowing red rather than the standard yellow, marched up to him and grabbed him by the collar.

    "You should know better than to look away."

    Dezal's eyes widened as the droid raised its baton. Then, everything went black.

*  *  *

    "Where have you been, Jedi?"

    Climbing down from his fighter, Zarin Kal glanced at the Rodian Sith that awaited him, arms folded over his chest. It did not surprise him that there was someone to question his absence; he was simply glad it happened to be a fool like Jark Kenu.

    "I am no longer a Jedi, Kenu," Zarin said as he touched ground. "I'm a Sith, like you."

    The Rodian's snout wrinkled in a sneer. "Answer the question."

    Zarin walked up to Kenu, glaring into the other Sith's wide black eyes. Kenu shifted slightly but, to his credit, did not cow. Then again, Zarin wasn't putting much effort into his "fearsome" display.

    "Just searching for relics," he finally said. "Just like Voran and the others."

    Kenu shook his head. "Lord Krayt didn't send you."

    "He didn't. Lokai did. Does he not speak on behalf of the Dark Lord?"

    Before Kenu could reply, the two of them were interrupted by a sleek black shuttle cutting through the clouds and descending to the ground.

    "They're back," Kenu murmured. "Hopefully now that Givin will prove to be some use."

    Zarin raised an eyebrow. "What Givin?"

    "Just someone Lokai and Haarkon found. Says he'll help us get the Eye of Kaas back in exchange for a relic from Jaguada."

    "How do we know we can trust him?"

    "We don't," Kenu said. "But, see, this Givin just happens to be the only lead we have to any of Sedriss' Sith."

    "How so?" Zarin asked.

    The Rodian smirked. "He's one of them."

*  *  *

    The man once known as Lord Kallus stood on the other side of the Givin's cell, staring at the solitary occupant. Nasoth Alarin sat calmly with his hands in his lap, staring back at him.

    Breaking a long bout of silence, Nasoth said, "How are you doing, Viron?"

    Viron exhaled through his nose. "What are you playing at, Nasoth?"

    "What do you mean."

    "You know full well what I mean. What kind of game are you trying to play with Krayt?"

    Nasoth shook his head. "No game. Simply an exchange of services. Nothing more than that."

    "There's always something more," Viron retorted, gritting his teeth. "You claim to not be Sith, yet what were you these past two years?"

    "As Lord Reaper, I was Sith," Nasoth calmly answered. "But as Nasoth, I am nothing more than myself. Not Jedi, not Sith. Not Baran Do, not Fallanasi. I am Nasoth, and that is all."

    Viron scowled but did not press the matter further. All of his burning questions would have to wait as he sensed the approach of Lord Krayt. He stepped to the side just as the Dark Lord himself entered, followed by Lokai, Xiana, Mar Voran, and Naaro Viin.

    Carrying an air of contempt, Darth Krayt stormed up to Nasoth's cell, glowering at the Givin within. Raising a hand, Krayt opened it and allowed a chained amulet to dangle from his fingers. A large crack pierced the gem in the center.

    "Is this your precious amulet?" Krayt asked, sneering.

    Nasoth raised a hand to his chin. "Yes, but I do not recall it being so... worse for wear."

    "That's because we were forced to destroy it," Naaro said darkly. "Voran's wife attempted to use it to drain us of Force power."

    "Ah, yes. That was Jarak Null's specialty: Force Drain. Shame it didn't do him any good when--"

    "Spare us the history lesson, worm," Lokai snarled. "We did our part. Now for you to do yours."

    "I already have." Nasoth leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. "Eight bounty hunters have been sent to track down the woman who has the Eye of Kaas."

    All of the Sith stared at him with baffled looks. Even Krayt looked mildly bemused.

    "How?" Naaro asked. "How could you have done that from your cell?"

    "I have my ways," Nasoth replied. "Besides, does it matter? At least I am able to perform my part from these confines. You didn't even need to release me."

    Darth Krayt's eyes blazed as he tossed the amulet through the bars of the cell. "You had better not disappoint me, Givin, or we never will release you."

    Nasoth chuckled. "Now what would I possibly gain from that?"

*  *  *

    "Please! I don't know anything!"

    "I think you're lying, Delnar." 

    Trask Moran paced behind the dangling Morseerian as the latter dangled precariously over the railing that oversaw the treacherous seas of Amethia Prime. All four of his arms were tied behind his head, leaving him helpless to the Snatchers' interrogation.

   "You're the Bounty Hunters' Guild's information well," Trask went on. "You have tabs on every single bounty hunter in the galaxy."

    "I do not!" Delnar protested. "Where did you even get that idea? Such a task is beyond my capabilities."

    "Don't play coy with us," Trask growled, tapping his blaster against his leg. "Your surveillance has been the boon of many a Snatcher for years. We've all ran into unwanted company thanks to your tattling."

    "Maybe so! But I swear to you I don't know anything about this Valrisa woman!"

    "I find that very hard to believe." Trask gave a small nod. "Thovak?"

    Crouched in front of Delnar, a hairy gray Hassk unsheathed a small blade and held it up to the tube connecting the Morseerian's methane mask to his environment suit. Delnar's black eyes widened behind his mask's goggles while Thovak's red orbs gleamed with sadism.

    "If Thovak cuts that tube, you will die," Trask said. "So let me ask again, Del: Where can we find Valrisa?"

    Delnar let out a shuddering breath. "I... I know that she works for the Malvis Cabal."

    "That doesn't do us any good. I want to know where we can find her. What planets does she visit regularly?"

    "I can't... I'm not at liability to say--"

    Thovak applied pressure with his blade. Methane began to hiss from the tube.

    "Ord Talavos!" Delnar exclaimed. "She's on Ord Talavos! She's holding an auction for some artifact! All of Malvis' crime lords will be attending!"

    Trask flashed a wicked grin. "And how does one get to Ord Talavos?"

    "It's just off the Great Gran Run, near Manakron."

    "Good. I knew we could count on you, Del. Thovak, if you would be so kind?"

    Cackling madly, Thovak raised his knife and plunged it into Delnar's chest. The Morseerian cried out in agony as methane and blood leaked from his suit. Trask quickly moved over and cut Delnar down from where hung before throwing him over the railing and into the Amethian sea.

    Thovak sniffed with disdain. "Water gonna pollute."

    "That's not exactly my problem, is it?" Trask retorted. "Tell Dorga to prep the ship. We're headed for Ord Talavos."

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: The Dragon's Claw, Part III

THE DRAGON'S CLAW, PART III

    Black eyes nearly bulged from their sunken sockets. A large, three-fingered hand clumsily removed the hookah pipe lodged into the Chevin's low-hanging jaw.

    "Dead? What do you mean he's dead?"

    An exasperated look crossed the face of the holographic woman in front of him. Her own eyes rolled as she said, "His droid self-destructed, killing him and destroying the cantina we were in."

    "You're sure he's dead? I mean, you obviously survived...."

    "Yes. Because I ran. I hear a ticking bomb and I run. Typical survival trait."

    "Don't get snarky with me, human." Returning the pipe to his mouth, the Chevin took another puff before removing it again. "So you still have the artifact?"

    "Yes. The two Blarinas never showed up anyway."

    "So let me get this straight: Malvis hired you to get this artifact, but instead of getting it yourself, you hire a down-on-its-luck criminal 'empire' to hire rowdy pirates to get the artifact to trade with no-name Blarinas to get whatever it was they were selling." The Chevin waved a hand wildly to express his disbelief, since he was unable to shake his head. "Maybe the smoke's getting to me, but that makes no sense."

    "The artifact was in the hands of a Hutt. I thought the Cabal wanted as little direct interaction with them as possible."

    "That might be how Alazar did things, but not Hahgalor Mos!" The Chevin banged on his sidetable to emphasize his point, though all it did was knock the jar he was smoking from to the ground. It shattered into a million pieces, covering the stone floor with glass and liquid intoxicants. While Chev servants scrambled to clean up the mess, Hahgalor proceeded as if nothing had happened.

    "I do not fear those spineless slugs!" he declared boldly. "If it were me calling the shots, I'd have stormed that Hutt's palace and turn the whole place on its head while I bashed his!"

    "Yes, I'm sure your method would have been far more efficient," Valrisa said dryly. "Anyway, going back to the subject of Alazar...."

    "What about him? He's dead now, isn't he? Good riddance to him, I say."

    "So you're not the least bit concerned that a droid of his self-destructed without warning?"

    "Bah!" Hahgalor snorted. "Wouldn't surprise me if he crossed a couple of wires wrong, being the idiot that he is. Was."

    "Really?" Valrisa smirked, arching an eyebrow. "You do know that all droids used by the Cabal were made or supplied by Alazar, right?"

    Hahgalor blinked. "Wait, really?" Muting the comm, he looked over to one of his Chev servants, standing to his right. "Brophar, do we have any droids?"

    "Yes, master," replied the pale-skinned humanoid. "At present, we have approximately seventy battle droids, fifty-five--"

    "I don't care how many we have," Hahgalor snarled. "I just want to know if they were from Alazar!"

    Brophar thought for a moment. "Well, the last few shipments have been from Altech Industries rather than Talavos Corporation--"

    Relief washed over Hahgalor's elongated features. "Ah, good!"

    "Except--"

    Ignoring the servant, the Chevin returned his attention to Valrisa's hologram. "Not to worry, human. All of my droids have been from my own vendors."

    "Well, that's a relief," Valrisa said, not at all sounding relieved. "However, that still leaves thousands of droids being used by the Cabal susceptible to spontaneous destruction."

    "Ah, I'll pass it along." Next to Hahgalor, his servants had replaced the broken hookah and he eagerly went in for another puff, the smoke emitting from his large nostrils as he exhaled. "And the artifact? What do you plan on doing with that?"

    "Depends. I'm currently looking for the highest bidder on it. You're welcome to weigh in yourself."

    Hahgalor took a moment to think. "Eh. Why not? I've got extra room in my dungeon."

    Valrisa nodded. "Great. The auction will be on Ord Talavos in two days."

    "I'll be there."

    Once the hologram fizzed out of existence, Hahgalor looked over to Brophar, who was quaking in his boots. "What?" the Chevin growled. "What's gotten you all worked up?"

    "M-master," the Chev stuttered. "Altech Industries is a subsidiary of Talavos Corporation."

    "Yeah? Lots of companies are. We've got dozens of subsidiaries."

    "But, master... Vasim Alazar was CEO of Altech Industries when it joined."

    Hahgalor's mouth hung open, the hookah pipe still hooked around it. "Is he... was he still CEO when he died?"

    "No, he passed the company off to a Gossam named Xiri Gan. However, all droids produced by them are based off his blueprints."

    Rage and confusion warped the Chevin's features. "Why didn't you tell me?" he bellowed.

    "I tried to--"

    "Bah!" Pushing Brophar aside, Hahgalor descended from his throne. "Inchef! Afree! Find all of the droids in the vicinity and shut them down before they blow up or... or... whatever."

    As the two servants scrambled away, he then turned back to Brophar. "Contact Altech Industries immediately," he said in a low rumble. "I need to get to the bottom of this."

--Elsewhere--

    The ship had landed ten feet away, having braved the storms to reach its destination. Rain glistened from its black hull as a ramp lowered and hooded figures began pouring out.

    Lyra Voran inhaled sharply. She saw him among the seven approaching; even through the rain and his hood, she could not mistake his features. She had hoped that it would not come to this; that he would not betray them like this.

    This was not the father she knew.

    Through the Force, she heard her mother's voice. Your father is gone, dear. Consumed by the dark side.

    Do we not follow the dark side as well? Lyra responded.

    Follow, yes. But not bow. We let it lead us, guide us, but not control us like many before. We are stronger than most Sith. Your father, it would seem, is not.

    Tears rolled down her blue cheeks. I don't want to do this.

    You must, her mother insisted. It is your destiny. We must protect our knowledge from men like the one he now follows.

    Why didn't you destroy it? Like Lady Sedriss asked?

    That, her mother did not answer. Instead, she simply said: Go, my daughter. Defend our honor. Protect the future of the Sith.

    With that, the voice of Lady Saarai fell silent. Taking a deep breath, Lyra wiped the tears from her eyes and stepped out into the rain.

*  *  *

    The Sith Temple of Jaguada laid straight ahead. Made from the ruins of a fortress built by Darth Gravid over six hundred years ago, the temple served as a safehouse for the holocrons and relics acquired by the Sith Order of Sedriss. While not complete, its collection of Sith artifacts would prove useful to Darth Krayt's budding empire.

    Only one person stood in the way between the Sith and their destination, and Mar Voran could see her standing in the rain up ahead.

    He almost couldn't believe it; the fact that his wife would throw their daughter at seven dangerous Sith like this. Then again, Lady Saarai had always put her library before family. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised.

    Standing right behind him, he heard Naaro Viin rasp into his ear. "Who is that, Voran?"

    Voran stared at the young Chagrian woman that awaited them. "No one," he murmured.

    "She is a fool to think she can take us all on her own," growled Haarkon Dak.

    "Indeed," cooed a stringy-haired female Sith. "Shall I be the one to kill her, Voran?"

    Voran said nothing as the Sith got closer to the temple. It took all of his will to hold his daughter's gaze as the seven Sith came to a stop before her. 

    A long silence passed between the two parties, the only sound being the rain that poured upon them. When no one made a move, Voran decided then to speak.

    "Lyra," he said carefully. "Please, let us pass."

    "No," she replied firmly.

    Voran's expression darkened. "You don't know what you're dealing with. You are not strong enough to defeat us all."

    "I know," Lyra said, her voice softer this time.

    Voran stared at her. Try as he might, he could not put any more force into his words. When he spoke, they almost sounded pleading. "Step aside now or we will destroy you."

    Lyra spread her arms wide. "Destroy me then."

    Before Voran had a chance to react, Haarkon pushed past him and strode up to Lyra, savage glee in his eyes. Unhooking his lightsaber from his belt, he ignited its scarlet blade and raised it above his head.

    All those present waited for him to bring the blade down. Seconds passed by. Then minutes. Still Haarkon did not move.

    The brutish Sith frowned in confusion. "Why can't I--"

    "Bend," Lyra said.

    Without warning, Haarkon was lifted up into the air, screaming as his body twisted in unnatural ways. The others watched on in awe and horror, some even backing away. Voran's mouth hung open in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing.

    Did Myna teach her this? he wondered.

    He was soon distracted from his thoughts by Haarkon's increasing screams. Feeling the others' eyes on him, he forced himself to act.

    Activating his lightsaber, he delivered a quick cut to Lyra's midsection. Haarkon immediately fell to the ground as Lyra lost her hold on him. Crumpling to the ground, Lyra raised her tear-brimmed eyes to Voran.

    "Mother was right," she coughed. "You are truly gone."

    Voran frowned at her. "Your mother doesn't understand--"

    "No. She doesn't. And neither do I." Lyra coughed again, her breathing becoming more erratic. "I don't think... anyone can under... understand why you fell. Not... not even you."

    With that, Lyra took in a sharp intake of breath... then went still.

    Voran gazed upon the motionless body of his daughter, dozens of emotions raging within him. He forgot everything else around him -- the rain, the Sith, the temple -- and instead stared at his handiwork; the culmination of his fall; the result of his servitude to Darth Krayt.

    Had it been worth it? Was this really the man he wanted to be? What else would he have to sacrifice in the name of his new master?

    From behind him, Naaro and the others began moving into the temple. 

    He had a feeling he would get his answers before long.

*  *  *

    It could never be said that the Sith did not have a taste for the arts.

    Composed by Lord Myskos, the Ballad of Darth Maestus told the story of a Dark Lord who led a very sad, melancholy life. Unlike other Dark Lords, Darth Maestus did not rule over anyone. Instead, he lived alone in his quaint library, surrounded by books rather than people.

    Lady Saarai felt she could relate to that story; not just because she lived in what was essentially a library of Sith artifacts, but also because she was, in many ways, a sad old woman who lived alone.

    Sure, she had a family, but it hadn't done her any good. Even in her previous life, when she was Myna Tasseva, she preferred to spend her days deep within the Jedi archives rather than train or spend time with her peers.

    When she married Mar Voran, and with him had Lyra, she had thought it would be the start of a new chapter in her life; turning over a new leaf. Yet here she was, exactly where she had been eighteen years ago: Alone and surrounded by books.

    She had already long accepted this to be her fate, just like Darth Maestus had. And just like Maestus, she was about to meet her doom at the hands of those whom she had once trusted.

    Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if Lord Myskos had been a seer and had predicted her future through the creation of Darth Maestus, who of course had never existed. Their stories were eerily similar.

    However, unlike Darth Maestus, she did not plan on dying without leaving some sort of mark. While there was nothing she could do to prevent her collection from falling into the intruders' hands, she could still at least leave something to remember her by.

    The amulet of Jarak Null pulsated against her chest, eager to be unleashed. As the last few notes of Lord Myskos' masterpiece played out, Saarai gripped the amulet and backed herself away from the door.

    I'm sorry, Mar.

    Footsteps thundered from outside. She could hear the sound of lightsabers being ignited.

    I'm sorry it had to end like this.

    The door fell open with little effort and she threat the amulet to the ground, bathing the room in red....