Second Chance/Part 5

Resolved not to give the ungrateful wretch the satisfaction of his disdain, Nerlus Zedum kept his deep-set eyes toward the empty throne at the end of the table and away from Alecto. The Mirialan lounged in the chair opposite him, chatting with the Anzat Darth Vandak. Zedum could not tell whether the raspy, gargling sound in the back of Vandak's throat was a laugh or a snarl, but Alecto did not seem intimidated.

That she had been anointed a true Sith, if perhaps premature, Zedum could at least understand; to have slipped beneath the notice of Karr Shadeez and Tirien Kal-Di was an accomplishment, and she had performed the assassination of Arstyn capably enough, even if Zedum continued to believe killing Shadeez would cause more problems than it solved. But it was his mastery that had orchestrated Arstyn's downfall—he who had blessed Alecto's ambition and set her upon the path that had delivered them Gizer. Even as an anointed Sith, Alecto should have remained his charge. A senior among them, to be sure; there could be no comparison between a full Sith and the Acolytes who scrabbled to prove themselves worthy, let alone the disposable dark side adepts beneath them. But his to command regardless.

Instead, she had become Darth Saleej's latest pet. As the brushed the head of his cane with his thumb, Zedum wondered if she had whored herself out to Darth Saleej for his favor. Would a Kaleesh even find a Mirialan appealing? Not physically, perhaps, but there would be an undeniable appeal in her submission. The Pau'an felt his lip curl in disdain.

Zedum consoled himself that he still had a command of his own. Zedum and Alecto might both bear the title of Sith Lord—and, for whatever reason, Saleej had seen fit to grant her the honorific "Darth" despite what in Zedum's opinion was limited combat experience at best—but Alecto remained a lone operative, where Zedum still had a good number of Acolytes who had survived the Battle of Taanab thus far. Saleej might throw favors to his pet Mirialan, but he had not seen fit to entrust her with subordinates of her own.

More importantly, Zedum had Ondar Vargh. The Hrakian torturer might never ascend to the heights of lordship, but he was anointed, and there was prestige in being master of a Sith Lord. If anything, Ondar's limited range of skills made him more valuable; he knew the debt he owed Zedum for his lordship, and his dearth of prospects elsewhere would keep him loyal.

The door opened, and its hydraulic hiss cut through the conversation around the table. The Sith Lords stood as Darth Saleej entered, accompanied by two of his hulking brutes and wearing his death's head mask, as ever. He seated himself at the head of the table, then gave a downward flick of two fingers. "Sit."

He looked them over once with his bright yellow eyes, then fixed his gaze to his immediate right. "Hokhtan."

The Human Darth Hokhtan, Saleej's right hand, shook his head. "The battle lines hold, in space and down the well. The Republic got a few Hammerheads as reinforcements four days ago, but not enough to make a difference."

Darth Saleej tapped the claws of his two fingers on the table, click-clack, click-clack. A dozen taps in, some of the Sith Lords began to shift uneasily. Zedum wrapped his long fingers over the head of his walking stick, but otherwise kept himself still. In his peripheral vision he saw Alecto lean forward onto the table.

Hokhtan, by contrast, returned Saleej's gaze, his scarred and pitted face so calm it was almost blank. Eventually the Kaleesh said, "Delay is becoming unacceptable."

"The decisive engagement remains elusive, Master," Hokhtan answered. "The same options linger—chase them around the planet with the whole fleet, or split it for a pincer and risk the Republic picking off the halves."

Click-clack, click-clack. "And the surface?"

Hokhtan raised his palms. "We could commit and overrun them. Or we could commit, overextend, and have our lines collapse.  I can't guarantee you a victory without more men, Master."

"I can not give you more men until Telther delivers us Lantillies," Saleej reminded him.

"If he's going to, my lord," interrupted Lord Rhutizh from Saleej's other side, "it must be soon."

The red mask turned to the Devaronian. "Speak."

Rhutizh said, "Our sources suggest the Republic is assembling ships for a coordinated counterattack."

Alecto frowned. "But the Corsin relay—"

"Your efforts on Corsin were adequate," Rhutizh said; he turned his head slightly in her direction, but did not look at her. "But the Fourth Fleet is not the entire Republic Navy. Do not mistake delay for defeat."

Alecto opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of speech at the last moment and sat back in her chair. Zedum contained a smile.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack. "What of your forces remain?"

He was looking down the table now. Darth Vandak gave another inscrutable rasp in his throat and said, "Two of my adepts made it across the battle lines, but they have not returned, and they did not sabotage the Republic lines as I commanded. I suspect the Jedi robbed me of their soup."

Zedum had heard rumors of how Vandak punished his subordinates' shortcomings. He would have enjoyed watching such a spectacle; he almost thought his own failed adepts and Acolytes would rather face Ondar's skinning knives.

"Leaving…?" Saleej asked pointedly.

"Eight, lord."

Alecto bowed her head. "I have only myself, lord, but I'm entirely at your disposal."

Zedum rolled his eyes at her obsequiousness, but Saleej merely moved his gaze on. "Lord Latra?"

The diminutive Gossam inclined his long neck forward, his large eyes narrowed to sleepy slits, as usual. "Five little people," he said in a dreamy tone. "Mmm, yes, five."

"And your creations?"

The Gossam beamed as they arrived upon his favorite subject. Taking an egg-shaped container from one pocket of his brightly colored robe, he cracked it and dumped the putty within onto the table. Waving his three-fingered hands, Latra used the Force to mold the putty into a simulacrum of one of his 'children'; putty was not an ideal medium for detail, but Zedum could see six legs, spines, and what looked like many teeth.

"One eater. One lonely eater.  Very hungry, yes.  Republic soldiers would be quite tasty.  But only one." He looked up at Saleej. "I must have more beasts and more flesh to make more eaters, Master. Yes, many more."

Saleej nodded in acknowledgement, then gestured on. Each of the Sith Lords around the table gave his numbers in turn. When the yellow eyes fell on him, Zedum said, "Nine adepts and Acolytes, Master, as well as Lord Ondar Vargh."

As it turned out, Lord Sar-hent—seated between Zedum and Lord Rhutizh—still had a dozen fit for service, two of them lesser Sith Lords. "You will have the lead then, my lord," Saleej observed. "We must press the enemy before reinforcements arrive. Draw the Jedi to the front lines, where they are more easily killed."

"Don't neglect rocket fire," Darth Hokhtan added. "We can afford to lose more adepts than the Republic can lose Jedi."

Easy for him to say, thought Zedum. At Saleej's right hand, the Kaleesh's second-in-command was apparently being groomed to become a Sith Overlord himself, and both Saleej and the Council of Five were generous in channeling him Force-sensitive cannon fodder. But for Zedum, still working to claw his way past his lessers to a station befitting his capabilities, even those lesser lives had a modicum of value. A pity Garzen had been such a disappointment, and Alecto…

"A thought, Lord Zedum?"

The Pau'an had not realized his distaste had infiltrated his expression. Smoothing his leathery features, he looked back at Darth Saleej, thinking quickly. "Our adepts are surely worth the trade for Jedi Knights," he concurred, "but many of them would be worth quite a few Republic soldiers. Might it not be better to use them there?"

"And the Jedi?"

"Fortunately, Master, we're blessed with able warriors," he said, gesturing around the table. "How many Jedi have died at the blade of Darth Vandak, or Darth Sarnan? Even our newest compatriot has survived both Kal-Di and Darakhan."

Smiling to Alecto's narrowed violet eyes, the Pau'an concluded, "Let our ablest duelists strike different points to draw the Jedi out—disperse them over the planet so they can't reinforce one another."

"And if the Jedi prevail, and our numbers are thinned even further?" Darth Hokhtan asked.

Zedum shrugged. "What Darth would fall to a mere Jedi Knight?"

There was silence around the table except the click-clack of Saleej's claws. Eventually the death's head turned to Hokhtan, who shrugged as well. "It could work. And killing the Jedi alone won't give us Taanab; we'll need Force-adepts to overrun what remains."

Saleej considered, then nodded. "So be it. Darth Hokhtan will give you your targets.  Go with your warriors, rend the Republic Army, and if you draw the Jedi into combat, so much the better."