Danse Macabre/Part 12

Streams of sparks trailed down around them as the Anzati flew through the fireworks to mask their jetpack drives; when Anaxes Citadel was directly below and rockets seemed to soar directly at them, they cut their packs and plummeted, but only for the time it took to pull their parachute cords; flying low enough to avoid scanners from above left them little room for error as the Citadel's great dome raced up at them.

Nevya watched Ikkyn pull his risers just so, angling toward a pair of Republic Marine snipers. Freeing his knives from his belt a few meters up, he cut his parachute's cords, fell the rest of the way, hit the ground, rolled up to his feet, and threw a knife that nailed a sniper to the Citadel roof before he could even turn. The spotter reached for his blaster, but Ikkyn was on him in an instant, paralyzing his larynx with a throat strike and taking away the blaster so he could feed without challenge as the man writhed.

Around the roof the Anzati descended and the snipers died, but Nevya steered herself right for the apex of the dome, where a Bith Jedi Knight was just pulling the lightsaber from under his robe. She planned to land on him, but he must have sensed the danger, because he looked up at her and ignited his green blade. Continuing her trajectory would have sent her right into that lethal beam of plasma, so she pulled the ring on her harness to cut-away her chute and dropped.

The slope of the dome and her own reflexes saved her from the impact, though she still went side-over-side as the Jedi pursued her. Rising, she threw a knife, but he cut it apart in midair. Pulling out her cortosis-laced short sword, she ran to meet him, his lightsaber sending sparks off her blade. The Bith was fast, but Nevya was just as strong as he was and rather more precise. She alternated close-up slashes to deprive him of full use of his longer blade and stabs with the point of her curved sword.

He feinted a downward blow and arced suddenly into a sweeping slash on the rise; Nevya could appreciate the artistry in the technique, but she did a butterfly twist over the strike and brought her blade down the Jedi's off arm, opening it from wrist to elbow. As he gasped in pain through his puckered mouth, Nevya stabbed in and cut off his other thumb. The lightsaber dropped from his maimed hand, but before he could truly cry out, she stabbed him through his single lung.

The Bith choked and Nevya grabbed his massive head, pulling them nose-to-skin-flaps; his great black eyes reflected the fireworks above. Nevya slid her proboscises under those folds of skin, digging for his brain until at last, after so long, she tasted again the soup of a Jedi. She gasped as she drew in his future; the world expanded around her, every sight and sound in sharper relief, and she did not know whether the trembling was his death throes or her own legs shaking. The bright light of that luck dimmed as her power grew, ten thousand tomorrows shrinking down to one final tonight.

And then he was gone.

Nevya stood there, gasping in the wind, until Keshthel came to her side. "They're down."

"Send the signal," she panted; even if the Jedi were foolish enough to assume one of their own was enough redundant security, some Republic commander would surely have insisted on the spotters checking in.

As Keshthel raced down the dome, Gaia darted up to Nevya, her blades still dripping blood. She helped Nevya strip off her parachute harness and dark jumpsuit and straighten her dress, adjusting the sheer black lace that spiderwebbed up Nevya's arms and double-checking the belt that might have been a nylon sarashi. By the time Keshthel had returned, the red signal light still in one hand, Nevya had curled her black hair around her fingers and dropped it at her shoulders to take some of the windblown look out. She handed the Bith's lightsaber to Gaia. "For the mantle."

"I think they're coming, Nevya," Keshthel reported.

Moving quickly, she met Ikkyn and Zarrke on the way down the dome. "Take command and ensure our way is clear," she reminded Ikkyn. "Kill the Vanguardians only if you have to."

"Good hunting," he rasped back, then left them as they jogged to the edge of the dome; the miniscule dots of Republic soldiers patrolled far below. Zarrke handed Nevya a length of cord, wrapping his own on an anchor, and began to rappel.

Ikkyn would have been her first choice on an infiltration, but among his haunting skeletal build, the cheekbones that looked sharp enough to cut uncautious fingers, and his sociopath's eyes, blending in with high society was not one of his many talents. Zarrke was younger and newer to the Brotherhood, but his softer features suggested the innocence he had long since shed; a Human might even have called him handsome.

Nevya had been aiming for a maintenance duct, but five levels down, with a long way to go before the next level of parapets, they found a window open. She paused, hardly able to believe their fortune…and not trusting it. Zarrke rappelled to the opposite side of the window and traced it with a scanner, but shrugged and slipped inside, pulling Nevya in after him.

They had entered a deserted office; moving with perfect ease in the darkness, they opened the door onto an equally abandoned hall. Ignoring the wood-paneled walls and the eye-watering carpet of Republic Navy burnt orange, Nevya kept alert for anything that would endanger them, and when they rounded a corner to the turbolifts she spotted the ceiling camera at once. She walked three paces more, then grinned girlishly, tugged her backless dress a little higher on one shoulder, and pulled Zarrke into a kiss.

"We should get back down to the party," she said, winking and pointing toward the floor.

"Uh…"

With the same flirtatious smile, she crooned in Anzat, "The camera, idiot."

His eyes widened in understanding; Nevya counted herself fortunate that he didn't turn to gaze at it. After a moment he nodded and arched his eyebrow in a smoldering look Nevya thought some woman downstairs would likely melt for. "Let's go then…er, darling."

They rode the turbolift down in silence, though Nevya cuddled up against Zarrke's side just in case the lift had concealed cameras as well. On the lower level, they followed their senses until there were sounds to match; was it Nevya's imagination, or could she feel their lives a little more clearly than she had before? The Jedi hadn't been much of a fighter, but a Jedi Knight's luck was profound, opening a world of possibilities…

The Anzati walked into a hallway, and a blue-robed Senate Guard turned to frown at them. "What are you doing?"

"I told you the refresher wasn't this way!" Nevya pouted.

"This place is a maze!" Zarrke complained back. "If we ever even get there, you'll be lucky to find the zipper on that dress."

Nevya winked and purred, "It doesn't have one."

"How very convenient…"

"Ahem." The Blue Guard was still staring, though Nevya perceived his discomfort; she was practically hanging off Zarrke.

They both turned and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," Nevya laughed. "It's just such a night, and the party…"

"Is back that way," the Guard insisted. "Let's go."

They followed his directions with more giggling apologies until he was out of sight, then straightened and wiped the levity off their faces. Anaxes Citadel's ballroom was a cavern of baroque excess, but the Anzati mingled easily among their hapless prey, just another couple among hundreds.

"There are Jedi here," Zarrke breathed.

Nevya almost called him on the obviousness of it—she could taste their scent in the warmth of body heat hanging in the air—but restrained herself as a single violin began to wail. "Remember why we're here."

"Of course," Zarrke assured her. As the orchestra joined in, he said, "But it's hungry work, and nothing works up an appetite like a little exercise before a meal. May I have this dance?"