Desperate Times/Part 6

The battle was so one-sided that Darth Hokhtan had stopped paying attention to it. Darth Saleej's war machine was well-oiled and seasoned by years of campaigning, tested in battle against Herqilius Arstyn and a dozen lesser leaders; compared to the fallen Gizerian admiral, the Republic commander beyond the Unquenchable Fire ' s viewport would not even merit a historical footnote. Hokhtan watched from a side viewport as a Republic frigate's shields failed and firebursts started along its hull until Darth Shakelli stormed to his side. The young Human did not seem in ill temper—it was simply that, even before the time he was anointed, he had been incapable of any other form of movement from one place to another. It was a flaw, but among Shakelli's lesser ones, so Hokhtan left it unremarked.

Shakelli waited rather than speaking and, marveling at his patience, Hokhtan said, "Your contribution to our victory is noted."

The Human shrugged restlessly. "If I swat a fly, have I achieved victory over it?"

Ever eager for glory. "Not a fly, but a viper wasp. Swat one and you merely exterminate a nuisance; swat a thousand and the hive is left unprotected, yours for the plundering."

"When do we swat the next one, then?"

"Soon, I expect." Hokhtan did not look away from the dying frigate, but he lowered his voice. "What have you found out?"

"Nothing." Shakelli crossed his muscular arms over his barrel chest. "My spies—"

Hokhtan coughed meaningfully. Shakelli glanced at a nearby crewpit, then lowered his voice. "My spies haven't produced a thing. I may need to lean on them harder."

"Patience," Hokhtan counseled. "Your spy network is new, and its newness makes it fragile. Push too hard and it shatters, and then what do you have?"

"My soldiers," Shakelli answered, his handsome features taking on a mulish expression; espionage did not suit him. "My pilots. My—"

"Darth Saleej's soldiers," Hokhtan corrected. "Darth Saleej's pilots. His to give and take away on a whim.  And your adepts may be yours, but you have no Acolytes, let alone subordinate lords.  Plan, Shakelli.  Your fellow lords are planning, and plotting, and few if any for your benefit.  Plan accordingly."

Shakelli scowled, but finally said, "My spies have nothing."

"And your mercenary contacts?"

"Plenty of offers for new contracts, now that the tide's with us, but no word of Alecto. Everybody's looking, but nobody can find her."

Hokhtan filed away the possibility of mercenaries harassing the Republic and repressed a sigh. Alecto, were she here, would no longer have to be told to plan against the designs of her comrades; he suspected she had plans of her own for Targere now that the Brotherhood of Shadows stood at her back, knives ready. Were she here, too, the Brotherhood could be deployed in useful ways to crack the Republic at its shatterpoints and clear the path to the Core. But the Brotherhood obeyed no orders but Alecto's, and Alecto was not to be found.

"I think the Jedi have her," Shakelli said.

"We've had no word of that. What's more, we know they're looking for her."

"Maybe they have her and they're keeping it quiet. Trying to extract everything they can out of her and hit us with things she knows."

It was an impressively subtle idea for Shakelli, Hokhtan mused; but then, it came back to warfare, and most successful warfare was rooted in deception and superior intelligence. "Alecto wouldn't break under any but the most hideous of tortures, if then. And even if the Judicials would condone that, the Jedi never would.  Their weakness is our advantage."

"Then what's she waiting for?!" Shakelli demanded. "She did it! Everyone knows she did it, too; a hundred planets want a new holiday called 'Darth Alecto Day'.  If the Jedi haven't stopped her, why not step up and claim her due?"

Hokhtan had theories, none of which he shared with Shakelli. "When we find her, we'll know. Keep your ears open, but be discreet."

It was asking for a miracle, but at this point, finding Alecto seemed a minor miracle itself. Shakelli nodded and stormed off, but no sooner had he cleared the bridge, cloak swirling behind him, than Rhutizh'chal'safan appeared. The antithesis of Shakelli, he made no sound or indication of his presence, standing near the door with his hood up and his fingers steepled. But Hokhtan sensed his gaze, and after a moment moved back to the main viewport.

"I trust you can handle the remainder of this engagement, Commander?"

The officer of the deck, a red-skinned Twi'lek with a patch over her left eye, nodded crisply. "Yes my lord."

"You have the bridge, then. Carry on and inform me when the task force is destroyed."

Leaving her to it as she continued giving the orders he had allowed her to give in his abstraction, he limped to his hoverchair. His replacement knee functioned well, but his body was still becoming accustomed to it, and while his limp might earn him a measure of respect—bearing the wounds of battle before the crew with neither grimace nor hesitation—the Unquenchable Fire was too large to walk its length. For now.

Rhutizh remarked upon neither the chair nor the battle; impassive as ever, he waited until Hokhtan hovered by, then fell in step, his devil's face composed into expressionless contemplation. Hokhtan waited him out until they were two sections on, but finally conceded the Devaronian would not crack and asked in a quiet corridor, "Have you found her?"

"I have not."

"Ten thousand eyes and none of them can see?"

If he was frustrated with his vast spy web's failure, Rhutizh showed no flicker of it on his face. "If the Republic had her we would know it; too many worlds lost too many valuable beings for the Jedi not to placate them with her execution. Nor would she leave us for another; Aresh would not take her, Lakalt is dying, and Hadan is nothing more than a skeerad screaming that it's a quarra.  It is unlikely she is being held for ransom or bounty; very few Forceless could ever hope to overcome her, and even fewer to hold her for any length of time."

"So you've said in council," Hokhtan reminded him, a bite of impatience creeping into his voice. Rubbing a scar on his jaw, he said, "Surely you must have theories."

"Many. She might have succumbed to some illness or injury, even accident.  Some of her Anzati might not have reconciled themselves to an alien master after all.  Flush with victory, she might be hiding among her…brethren, plotting some devious usurpation of her own."

"There's no evidence of that."

"There is no evidence of any of my theories. That is why they are theories, not facts, and I treat them with appropriate skepticism until I have reason to do otherwise."

Not for the first time Hokhtan wondered at Rhutizh. In decades as a Sith Lord and general, he had learned to read both allies and enemies—and especially those who could be either—and the motivations of most of his fellow council members were clear. Targere relished the feeling of control that his mastery of wealth and trade provided; Sar-hent drowned himself in pleasures, both those available to any man and more twisted ones only the dark side could provide; Shakelli, of course, lived for glory and the thrill of battle. Kai Latra was simply mad. And Alecto, for all her growing self-possession and strength in the dark side, was still driven by an inscrutable need to prove herself. But Rhutizh had always been Rhutizh, from the time when they had sat on the far end of Saleej's table together, as they crept up along in authority, down to the present when they served at their master's left and right. Everyone knew what he did, and yet no one seemed to know how; even Darth Saleej rarely questioned him. For a man who did little to openly inspire fear, the quiet, unassuming Devaronian left many of his comrades ill at ease.

Hokhtan did not understand what Rhutizh wanted, and so he was compelled to ask. "You didn't leave your web and come to my bridge to remind me you haven't found Alecto."

Rhutizh stopped, and Hokhtan brought his chair to a halt as well. A Phindian crewer thumped by, a bit too much curiosity in his eyes as he took in the pair of them; Rhutizh waved a hand, and the Phindian's eyes slid out of focus as he trod on, looking obliviously back to his course.

Rhutizh watched him go, then steepled his fingers again and looked down at Hokhtan. "I did not," he remarked, as if there had been no interruption. "Clearly you have not found her either. Our master grows concerned for our lost colleague."

"As are we all, I should think."

Rhutizh's face gave nothing away. "Of course. And as a gesture of that concern, he has directed the entire council to employ its resources in finding her."

Hokhtan almost thought that stood a chance of expediting matters until he remembered who else was on the council, and how fondly they thought of Alecto. "You mean—"

"I mean exactly what I said." Rhutizh's voice was smooth and unperturbed.

"What about her Acolyte, the Ubese?"

"Assuming he is, indeed, her Acolyte." Hokhtan took the unstated hint under advisement as Rhutizh added, "He is watched, but the eye upon him has seen nothing of value. Yet."

Did Rhutizh suspect something he wasn't sharing? The man chose every word and impregnated every pause with careful design, and when every sound from his mouth could be a trap, caution morphed seamlessly to paranoia unless one was on guard.

"And the Jedi? What if they find her first?"

"I have taken steps so that they won't."

He added no more, and Hokhtan had learned over decades not to ask. The Devaronian protected his sources and methods as if ever ally could, in truth, be an enemy—which was to say, wisely. "Let's hope that's enough and nothing untoward happens to Alecto."

"Indeed." Rhutizh bowed from the neck as a courtesy. "Good day, Darth Hokhtan."

Hokhtan returned the nod, keeping his rough face cool. "Good day, Lord Rhutizh."

When the Devaronian had gone, Hokhtan sat pondering his words until more crew approached; it would not do for them to see their commander sitting idly, lost in thought. When he had directed his chair through the ship to his chambers, though, he was no surer of Rhutizh's intentions. Had he given Hokhtan a warning for Alecto's benefit, or did he hope that Hokhtan would react and find Alecto for him? Did he mean to sow distrust of others on the council—did he, perhaps, think Hokhtan might even be baited to dare violence against them to protect Alecto?

If he did, he was destined for disappointment. A Sith blind to the schemes of his comrades was a fool, but Hokhtan would not sink to their level himself. The way of the Five was the only way; only united in the darkness, directed toward a single purpose, would the Sith finally bring an end to the travesty of the Republic and exterminate the Jedi.

If Hokhtan's agents could find Alecto first, they would. But if she could only be saved by disposing of another anointed Sith, then Alecto was on her own.