Danse Macabre/Part 13

"I don't like the balcony doors being open," Raven confessed.

Though grateful for the breeze, Tirien couldn't disagree with the security assessment. "We'll keep an eye on them. And the snipers are on guard.  Where's Doli?"

"With Duro's senator. We thought it was best—he's over two meters tall, there are only so many ways to make him blend in.  Dijir?"

"On the roof, until Kenza or To'ong Fuf can relieve him. Narasi and I will take a turn up there when the party starts winding down.  The others are walking the perimeter." Raven only brushed his goatee, so Tirien added, "What is it?"

"I don't know, I just…have a bad feeling about this."

Tirien reached into the Force, a moment of waking meditation to draw a hundred possible next moments into the single now, and he said slowly, "Let's mingle."

Raven nodded and went the other way as Tirien stepped toward the food table. He noticed Khofin of Knylenn moving in Narasi's direction, but before he could intervene Senator Iltek grabbed him by the arm. "Ah, Tirien, just in time. Tirien, this is Senator Oteyda Falt of Kuat."

The woman was taller than Tirien, and the ornate shoulder pads on her tunic, studded with gemstones and laced with platinum, made her appear broader too. He bowed politely and said, "Senator."

She thrust a hand in his direction in a regal way, her knuckles toward him; Tirien took it with his left and touched her hand briefly to his lips before releasing her. "We're very pleased…Tirien, is it?"

"It is."

"Tirien is…a personal guest of the Chancellor," Senator Iltek explained, catching himself in time. If there were any beings likely not to recognize him by name despite his exploits on their own world a few years before, Tirien had to admit Kuati nobility were probably close to the top of the list.

"How charming," Senator Falt drawled. Tirien glanced to her side, where an even taller man hovered. His heavy robes and voluminous hat shrouded all of his body save his face and neck, but the thick cords of muscle there suggested great strength. He studied Tirien coolly, and Tirien frowned; he could get no clear sense of the man in the Force, and yet he seemed familiar in a disquieting way. Senator Falt followed his gaze after a moment, then waved a hand dismissively. "Our telbun."

The telbun lowered his eyes, and Tirien nodded. He had seen Kuati with their telbuns during his brief time on the shipyards; they were merchant-class children sold to the nobility to sire physically and intellectually ideal children. The Kuati system struck him as little better than the Sith brand of reproductive slavery, but that would have been an impolitic observation to make to the world's senator. "Good evening."

The telbun nodded without lifting his head, and Senator Falt said, "We must speak with the Chancellor, Tirien. Excuse us."

"Of course." Tirien shook hands with Iltek, then continued on to the food table, weaving through officers and civilians. Commandant Wermis nodded to him from across the dance floor, and Tirien saw Taylo Organa moving artfully through the crowd with a drink in each hand. Realizing how conspicuous he looked, standing with hands folded and people-watching in silence, he took in the table with a glance and said, "A glass of wine, please."

"It would be my pleasure, sir-sir-sir," the serving droid said; it twitched just a little, but did not spill a drop as it extended the glass.

Tirien took it, frowning. "Are you well, droid?"

"Oh yes, thank you for asking, sir. I must have picked up a slight flut-ut-ut-utter!  Such an assemblage of distinguished personages."

Tirien sipped his wine. "Perhaps you should be relieved."

"Oh…well, if you think that best, sir, I can call for another droid…"

Could a droid be disappointed? Serving droids had some elements of protocol droid programming, Tirien knew; in some ways, a bartender needed more diplomacy than a diplomat. He nodded once, thanked the droid, and turned back to the crowd, wending his way through. He stretched out with the Force and his mind found Narasi automatically, but he was deeply touched to feel the Chancellor at her side, and sensed whatever the man was saying was far more healing than Tirien could ever have been to his apprentice, a spiritual bacta to wounds deeper than a lightsaber could cut. Tirien allowed himself a small smile.

And then, as he took another sip of wine, his smile died.

He whirled, eyes wide, to find Iltek had parted with the Kuati and her telbun only to come upon two other Human men. One Tirien recognized as the senator from Alsakan; he had a Twi'lek on one arm and a Zeltron on the other. The other man, shorter and heavier than his companions and dressed in robes Tirien thought probably cost enough to buy a starfighter, was laughing uproariously at a joke it seemed he himself had just told. "And…and she said…" he wheezed, "'and I thought the thrantas could get inflated'!"

Iltek laughed a politician's laugh, and the Alsakani chuckled indulgently, but the green-skinned woman, who snuggled so close to the fat man's side that she had crossed her arms on his shoulder and rested her chin there, merely grinned a nexu's grin. "So much in common, my handsome senator…buoyant, majestic, and full of hot air."

Iltek and the Alsakani laughed harder this time, but the fat man did not seem offended; indeed, he guffawed loudest of all as he gave the woman a swat on the behind, laughing so hard he coughed. "I tell you, this one's a gem! Lovely as an emerald and sharp enough to match!"

She laughed again, and Tirien's heart sank. It was the sound that had seized his attention and refused to free him; it came snickering out of his nightmares and into the real world. He began to bull his way through the crowd, ignoring remonstrances and gasps, depositing his wine glass on a passing droid's tray. From the orchestra's corner in the main room, a violin began to wail, and the woman kissed the fleshy cheek. "Won't you spare me for a dance with Senator Iltek, my handsome thranta?"

He kissed her cheek in turn. "It's torture to part from you, dearest, but if you must…"

She extended her gloved hand toward Iltek, who seemed startled by his good fortune and opened his arms for her. Picking up the pace, Tirien elbowed past the fat senator, caught the woman by her hand before she could touch Itelk, jerked her into his grip, and snarled, "Allow me to cut in."

He pulled her away from them, only dimly aware of the senators' objections and Iltek's burst of surprise and dismay in the Force. She matched his waltz hold and his steps automatically, and after a second she adopted a scandalized look, as if the assault upon her dignity was simply too much for words, as if his ungallantry would conjure up a rescuer before she could even raise the call.

But in that first instant, he saw in her blue eyes a flash of shock and fury.

"Well!" she said as they whirled to the music. "If this is what passes for Wroonian courtesy these days…"

"Wroonian," Tirien growled. "Nice touch."

"Unhand me, sir! Don't make me call the Blue Guards!"

"Go ahead and call them. I'd love to hear you explain the situation, Alecto."

The tic as her jaw tightened was almost invisible. "Must all of my people suffer by association with that woman? Aren't you the Zygerrian's master?  I'd think you'd be above such prejudice."

Her hair was jet black and styled in a short pixie cut, two long sticks locked through a hair accessory in the back, and her eyes were almost as blue as Narasi's, not violet. There were unfamiliar diamonds and triangles on her cheeks and forehead, and her accent was hard to place; Rim, clearly, but vague enough to be from a hundred worlds. But still… "Just a normal Mirialan, are you?"

"Of course I am, you cad!"

"Very well, my mistake." Tirien released her with one hand, then reached quickly for his lightsaber. He had his hand on the hilt when she struck his forearm with the ridge of her hand and the muscle spasmed. She curled her fingers into claws and struck for his throat, but Tirien deflected her strike away, catching her arm and depositing her hand back on her shoulder. Wrapping his arm around her again, he pulled her in chest-to-chest; he could smell the sweetness of her breath as he matched her glare. It took all of three seconds, and throughout it they never broke contact with their other hands.

They waltzed for several three counts, weaving among couples with ease, until she shook her head. "How?"

"You cut your hair," he noted. "Dyed it, too; that red was a dead giveaway. Contacts for your eyes, a faked accent, makeup for your tatt…no.  No, drinks get spilled, beings sweat…you're smarter than that.  Synthskin?"

She was sweating even as he said it, but the sheen around her left eye did not melt the green away to reveal the arrowheads he knew were beneath. She narrowed her eyes; it was alien not seeing that cold stare in violet. "How?"

He spun her out, holding her hand tight enough that she could not break his grip; as she twirled in, her back to his chest as they revolved on the spot, he whispered in her ear, "I recognized your laugh, Alecto. I hear it in my dreams."

She loosed that same, cold laugh in response, spinning back out before returning to a normal hold as the string section came into the waltz in force. "I'm touched."

"You're memorable."

They danced among the other couples, though Tirien refused to let her go as those around them switched partners. When a diminuendo came along, Tirien spun Alecto under his arm, then pulled her close; her arm wrapped across his shoulders, and they were cheek to cheek. "So what now? Still want to save me, Tirien?"

"I remain optimistic," he whispered to her. "I'll visit you in prison."

"You'll have a time getting me there. Is it worth all these lives?"

"I see how you charmed your way in—that dress is lovely, Alecto, and you're lovely in it," he said—and it was true. The sparkling black bodice matched her dyed hair and hugged her bust, and the flared black skirt gleamed with silver flowers and leaves. "But it doesn't leave much space for a lightsaber. You're no match for all of us unarmed."

Her laugh tickled his ear. "Raise the alarm, then. Denounce me to the Blue Guards, point me out for all your fellow Jedi…"  Her lips touched his earlobe. "…see what happens next…"

Tirien grimaced; was it possible? It might be a bluff…but it might not. He dared not reach into the Force hard enough to read the room, not with Alecto pressed against him, close enough to strike in an instant of distraction. Even as he considered reaching out to Narasi, he felt the muscles in Alecto's back tense under his hand. He dipped her once, spinning her around and glancing across the room as she clung to his shoulder for balance; there were no obvious threats, but with a Sith that meant nothing at all, especially when the Sith was Alecto.

Gritting his teeth, he whirled her away as the orchestra picked back up with a crash of cymbals. Alecto chuckled, though she coughed once too. Tirien waltzed her toward the open door that had so concerned Raven Kaivalt, passing between two sentries and into the cool Anaxes night.

She spun out as if for another turn under his arm, but then levered her hand against his thumb and twisted out of his grip. Tirien blew the balcony doors closed with a touch of the Force, muting the orchestra as he faced the Sith Lord. Alecto grinned at him from across the balcony, then coughed again. She glanced over the railing, and Tirien wondered if she would dare the jump; even Kenza might not have been so bold.

Then Alecto coughed again, harder, and turned, planting both her hands on the balustrade; her elbows trembled as they took her weight. Tirien narrowed his eyes, alert for some trick, laying a hand on Mali Darakhan's lightsaber hilt. "Alecto?"

She coughed again, her knees bending, and Tirien reached out with the Force. It was no trick; he could feel something terrible at work in her body. "Alecto, what's wrong with you?"

She gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the pain, then reached up and jerked one of the long sticks from her hair. Tirien pulled the Force around himself as a shield in case she threw it, but she blinked several times, staring at the needle urgently before she plunged it into her own chest, piercing the flesh of her left breast where it met the fabric of her dress, just above her heart. She hissed, shaking for a long moment until she pulled the stick out and threw it on the floor. She panted and heaved while Tirien watched her warily and her breathing gradually slowed.

Then she straightened, adjusted her short hair, and smiled, though the sweat had dripped down her nose and her complexion had paled. "That's better. Thanks for that, Kai Latra."

Tirien brushed a finger across his brow to keep his own sweat from dropping into his eyes; the room had been even warmer than Narasi had teased, and he did not want even a second of weakness in front of Alecto. "You can't get away, Alecto."

She shrugged. "Maybe I won't have to."

Even with her unarmed Tirien was not fool enough to turn his back on her, but she couldn't reach him before he could get the lightsaber free from his belt, so he expanded his Force senses. She remained entirely mundane, but from behind him came a sense in the Force that almost overwhelmed Tirien with nausea. Fear, pain, sickness and awful foreboding…something terrible was about to happen…was happening…

Tirien coughed, and Alecto smiled.