Loyalty/Part 15

Naathree Basrasht looked down at the Squib adept she had retained. She had never bothered to learn its name—something with a senth, she thought, though she could not swear to it—but she knew enough of Squibs to know how it could be useful. Drawing a sealed package out of her robe, she threw it down to the Squib and demanded, "Where is she?"

The Squib took off its tunic, exposing more of its lavender fur, and shook out the fur with a full-body wriggle. Tearing open the package with its teeth, it out a handful of leaves and one dried plant tendril. The adept rubbed them over its chest, grinding some of the leaves into its fur. Cocking its head, it started walking without a word, pausing here and there at nothing Naathree could see. The Squib sniffed at the ground, pawed at idle pieces of machinery, even scrambled up a droid and stood with eyes closed, the wind ruffling its fur.

Naathree circled a finger in the air, twisting the Squib's fur with the Force until pain wracked it from neck to waist. As it cringed, Naathree demanded, "Where?"

The Squib hopped down to the ground, cast Naathree a frightened look, and pointed. "This way. Not in the forest, definitely still on the flat cliff, you bet."

Naathree flicked a finger, swatting the Squib a meter forward. "Good. Move."

It led her across the mesa, and Naathree tasted the air with her tongue as they went; faint odors of Alecto's rabble lingered, though Naathree thought there was a vegetative smell that might have been Megaera's, as well as a few duller scents that were completely unfamiliar and only barely seemed like those of living beings—perhaps Alecto's pet Anzati? At the edge of her vision, where red bled into infrared, she saw the dimming heat signatures of the construction droids and work lights that had only been powered down upon their approach, but no other beings. She sensed Caiacan—her only true apprentice—still nearby, and her pair of enforcers descending upon the forest.

The dark side of the Force flowed through the forest and seeped into the bedrock, turning the whole mesa into a bubbling spout that might one day have become a fountain of darkness. But amid it all, none of Naathree's senses perceived anything strong enough to be Darth Alecto. Her informant had told it truly—the thief had left her den effectively unprotected.

The Squib adept found a rudimentary staircase composed of nothing more than durasteel sheets flattened into descending wedges of earth, the entrance hastily covered by a tarp. Casting the tarp aside with a disdainful wave, Naathree gestured the Squib on, and it followed the stairs down, stopping at each intersection and ruffling its fur before continuing. Once or twice it stopped to pick at something shiny, but a wrench of the tail or a half-dislocation of the ribs got it refocused in short order.

Though Megaera's scent remained one of many, Naathree could feel her mind now—small and frightened, aware of Naathree's own presence but powerless to do anything about it. Naathree expanded her own presence in the Force to bolster that fear; if Megaera was already a weeping willow by the time she found her, the girl might provide the amusement of begging.

That vision was so pleasant that Naathree didn't notice the Squib leading her the wrong way until the path dead-ended. The creature blinked, radiating surprise, then took them back to the main branch and tried again. Naathree allowed the error—the scents mingled into a meaningless cloud this far underground—but after the second time it happened, she said, "For every time you lead us astray, I'm going to remove a centimeter of your tail when we're done here."

The Squib whimpered and tried again, but she owed Naathree three centimeters of tail when at last they came into a larger room where excavation droids still widened the clay and bedrock of the hall or drilled down durasteel floorplates. Naathree extended her clawed hands, tail swishing behind her, and let loose a flow of Force lightning, bolts striking the closest droids and jumping from one shell to the next until smoking, sparking hulks lay scattered across the floor.

The Squib waved the air toward itself, then looked up and whispered, "She's here!"

Naathree did not deign to respond, but she knew the truth of it—even her own, less refined olfactory senses caught the hint of pheromones beneath the acrid stink of burnt metal and fried circuitry. She strode forward, waving ruined droids and supply containers out of her way, until at last only an automated digger lay before her. A thought sent it crashing across the room to crunch into a wall, and there, where its shadow had been, crouched Megaera.

Naathree savored Megaera's exquisite expression of horror as the girl scrabbled in the dirt until she found her feet. "How long did you think you could escape me, you treacherous little weed? You're mine—I own every part of you.  I've come to reclaim you—perhaps one part at a time."

She held out a clawed hand and tore one of the flowers off the blossom-filled vines that served Megaera for hair, and as the Force brought the flower to her grip, Megaera cried out in pain. At Naathree's side, the Squib adept cocked its head and waved more air toward its chest, but Naathree ignored it as she ground the petals to shreds in her hand.

"You killed that other thing…what was its name?" Naathree shrugged. "Some other adept, as useless as you—and even weaker, if you managed to kill it. But its life was mine to spend, not yours."

She curled her claws individually this time—one, two, three—and three blossoms ripped free from Megaera's scalp as the girl screamed in pain. She sank to her knees, clutching her head, some green fluid like blood running through her fingers. "Master, please!"

Naathree sensed a spasm of the Squib's fear, and it tugged at her robe, but she kicked it aside so hard it bounced off a crate two meters away and fell dazed. She would not allow the vermin to taint her enjoyment of her triumph.

"I'm your master again, am I? Now that you want something?" Naathree taunted. "Save your begging, I've barely begun with you."

At once and without warning, the Force turned black—Naathree discovered the deep caverns of her anger were only warrens dug into the walls surrounding the immeasurable abyss of the dark side. She thought for an instant of fire, but realized at once she had gotten it wrong. The sensation was not fire, but ice—ice so cold that to touch it, to even be near it, was to burn.

Megaera's eyes opened wide, but her fear died in the Force, leaving only the echoes where it had been, and as Naathree stretched out her mind, she realized they were no longer alone. In the same second, she flew toward the wall as if she had leapt after the digger she had thrown. Bouncing off its metal frame, she saw stars until she blinked her four eyes clear. Seizing upon the power of the dark side and snarling in rage, she whirled to find a cloaked figure giving Megaera a hand up.

"Pain strengthens us, Little Flower," the woman said, tracing one green finger down the still-oozing vine. "We experience it as often as we cause it; inure yourself to it now while it's just a scratch."

Megaera shivered, but nodded. "Yes, Master."

Naathree was about to strike, but she paused at those words, and as she hesitated, the woman lowered her hood, shook out her mane of red hair, and turned. "And as for you, Lady Basrasht, you're mistaken—you're much closer to the end than the beginning."

Naathree had heard of the arrowhead tattoos and the cold purple eyes; perhaps it was proximity to Megaera that made her think of violets stricken by winter's first frost—dead even though they didn't know it. But it was Megaera's words that drove the truth home. "Darth Alecto…but…"

Alecto smiled. "I'm sorry, my lady, were you expecting me to be on Commenor?"

Rage welled up within Naathree, incinerating shock, as she realized she had been suckered. "You…that treacherous bastard!"

Alecto's eyes tightened and she glanced at Megaera, but as Naathree started to follow her gaze, Alecto's voice drew it right back. "The funny thing about treachery, Lady Basrasht…it's a lightsaber blade. It can cut in any direction."

Naathree roared so loudly it echoed off the stone and steel walls and the dazed Squib jerked and hopped to its feet, but Alecto only smiled. Naathree wanted nothing more than to rip out those arrogant eyes and smash those teeth to dust, but betrayal had not made her a fool. Killing Alecto's adepts was one thing, but killing Alecto herself would court the wrath of the Council, and so the Furies. Naathree would not throw away her life in a moment of temper.

And yet…Alecto could no more strike at her than she could at Alecto; Darth Alecto was nobody's fool either. So what was the point of this trap? Naathree could not answer, and her incomprehension only made her angrier. Her source had seemed so trustworthy, so sure…even she had believed in this opportunity, and she trusted almost no one…

As she brooded on it, she felt a brush on her mind—not an invasion of the Force, but something subtler and stealthier. She turned livid eyes on Megaera and tightened the Force around the weed's throat. "You dare intrude on my thoughts, you little—"

Before she could finish the sentence, she felt the nerves behind all four eyes had twisted like the Squib's fur, and she roared in pain and staggered a step. She snarled when she could force her eyes open again, but Alecto still had a hand extended to her. "Try to harm my adept again, Lady Basrasht. See how well that goes for you."

Naathree's tail slashed the air. "Spare me your empty threats, assassin. You can't kill me, and I can't kill you."

"But you could kill my adepts," Alecto agreed, "except I don't think that quite worked out the way you intended either. Let's find out, shall we?"

She stepped between Naathree and Megaera, then turned toward the door at the far end of the room, where a teenage boy had just appeared. He smelled near-Human, and he glanced once at Lady Basrasht with raised eyebrows and wide eyes before bowing to Darth Alecto. "Master."

"Nillan. I'm pleased to see you survived.  Watch that ear, it's bleeding."

Nillan touched his bloody earlobe, winced, and said, "I used to have another lobe there…"

Naathree saw the opposite ear indeed had three lobes. Alecto said, "Be glad the cut didn't go all the way through. Report."

"I killed one, then the Human Acolyte was after me—Neun-Jai. But our plan—well, the plan—it worked perfectly.  Zurgharjhen totaled him."

That name was unfamiliar, but Naathree understood the point—she had lost one of her three Acolytes. The two enforcers were less valuable than Caiacan, but none of her Acolytes was disposable, and she restrained a snarl with difficulty.

"What about the other Acolytes?" Alecto pressed. "The Zabrak and the Xexto?"

Nillan shook his head. "I don't know, Master."

"Where are Zurgharjhen and the others?"

"I don't know, Master. Zurgharjhen sent me back to brief you.  I saw a couple bodies on my way back, but…"

"The Zabrak's dead!" an exultant voice crowed. Naathree turned to see a Human and a sloped-shouldered Phindian entering. "Lukurt and I killed him."

The Phindian growled, and the Human cleared his throat. "Er…that is to say, I assisted Lukurt in killing the Zabrak."

The Phindian—Lukurt, evidently—seemed only marginally more enthused with this description, but he left it unchallenged. Instead, he knelt at Darth Alecto's feet and said in a deep, raspy voice, "I can answer for two of the adepts and the Zabrak, Master."

"I got an adept too," said the Human.

Alecto didn't look away from Naathree as she gestured both men to their feet. "Where are the others?"

"Varriben and Fruuna are assisting the Anzati in hunting down survivors, Master," Lukurt said.

So this was the trap—Darth Alecto had targeted not Naathree, but her servants. It was not enough that the Council's favorite murderess had stolen one piece of her property; she had chosen to destroy what she could not steal. With both enforcers dead, that left only—

"What about Caiacan Duliys?" Darth Alecto asked. "And Zurgharjhen and Rewz?"

They all turned as heavy footsteps stomped closer, then a four-armed, lupine creature emerged behind an overturned droid. Even with half his body hidden by the construction droid, Naathree could tell the beast was the only being here who came close to her height, and who could perhaps equal her strength. His already-savage looks were sharpened by the blood smeared on his sharp-fanged maw and his bare, furry chest; he had several open wounds, and a twig was actually embedded in his left pectorals.

"You look a bit worse for the wear, Zurgharjhen," Alecto observed.

"I still live," Zurgharjhen growled. "But Rewz is dead."

Alecto's expression did not change, but Naathree saw the heat darkening the red around the assassin's neck and grinned. At least Alecto had suffered a loss of her own.

"What happened?"

"She was hunting an adept when the Xexto attacked. She broke Rewz's neck."

Naathree flexed her claws, imagining Caiacan at work, but Zurgharjhen continued, "I bring you her bones."

He hurled a bloody mess to the floor, and Naathree could not contain a scream of fury. The skeleton had been stripped of most of its flesh, but it had enough sinews and muscle strips to keep the whole mass together, and beneath the pulp and gore, Naathree saw the short spine, the rib cage smaller than Naathree's own wrist, and the four slender arms; several of them appeared to have been broken.

Naathree stretched the Force out toward Zurgharjhen, and he roared and drew a pair of lightsabers, but Darth Alecto interposed herself between them. "Don't! Leave her to me, Zurgharjhen."

Hissing, Naathree said, "You dare—"

"You killed one of my adepts," Alecto cut her off, no trace of her taunting smile on her face now.

"You killed my apprentice! You've taken everything I—"

"Everything you threw away," Alecto snapped. "You could've just lost Megaera, but you had to come here and threaten my servants—threaten everything I've built. Be glad if let you leave here alive."

"Spare me your empty threats, you little quean. The Council's law—"

"—is your only protection here, so tread carefully."

"She is your enemy, Master!" Zurgharjhen protested.

"Yes, she is," Alecto agreed without taking her cold eyes off Naathree. "But there is no way but the Council's way, and I'll let her leave to tell all my other enemies what happens to those who oppose me. Let her live a long, worthless life, alone on Dromund Kaas with her failure."

As Naathree ground her teeth, the Human who had come in with Lukurt looked at the Squib and took the lightsaber off his belt. "Not alone quite yet, Master."

Naathree waved a clawed hand to cut off the taunt before Alecto could voice it; she refused to play the assassin's games. "Do as you wish with it."

Alecto looked at the Squib too. "Oh, I forgot you were there. Hold that thought; we'll come back to it.  It's time to deal with Lady Basrasht."

Naathree's eyes swept the room; aside from Alecto and Megaera, there were four other adepts in the hall as well, and she could not fight her way through them all while also dealing with Alecto. Rather than threaten, she drew herself up to glare down at Alecto. "You've had your fun and won your victory; enjoy it while it lasts. Now stand aside."

Alecto nodded, a queer gleam in her eyes. "Mmm. Yeah…yeah, I could do that…"

Naathree saw the threat in those violet eyes as Alecto circled around her, away from Megaera, and she felt the first stirrings of disquiet. "The Council's law—"

"Yes, of course. You've sown division into the Empire, distracted me from a mission against our actual enemies, invaded my throneworld, threatened my servants…and killed Rewz." Alecto paused, and she let the silence drag as Zurgharjhen stumped forward, Lukurt appraised Naathree with narrowed eyes, and Crile started to put his lightsaber back on his belt, then stopped. The very walls seemed to hold their breath. "But you haven't attacked me directly, so I can't strike you down for all your many crimes against the Empire and me…unless, of course, you're just using this willingness to depart as cover so you can attack me when I drop my guard."

Naathree rolled all four eyes. "I'm not."

Alecto nodded, but didn't look at her, and after a second she turned her gaze to Megaera instead. "Is she, Megaera?"

Eyes widening, Naathree whirled around to Megaera, who craned her neck so they could lock eyes. Again Naathree felt that fluttering, wispy pressure on her mind; tasting bile in her throat, fire flooding her veins, she forced herself not to repel it, to endure this last degradation that stood between her and Dromund Kaas…

Megaera's eyes tightened, and she nodded. "Yes, Master."

"You lying little—!"

Naathree forgot the Force, forgot the many ways the dark side gave her of causing pain and wreaking havoc; rage wiped them all from her mind and propelled her forward, claws outstretched to rip the plant apart from blossoms to stem. Megaera threw herself back, and before Naathree's claws could find purchase on the girl's green flesh, electric agony washed over her and buried her rage in pain. She hit the stone ground so hard Megaera wobbled for balance, and she jerked and writhed as blue-white lightning raced over her flesh; at the infrared edge of her vision, her flesh turned red, then white, as her scales cooked and started to melt or burst off.

But even as the scorching torture roasted one of her eyes in her skull, the other three managed to find Megaera, and just before Alecto's lightsaber claimed her, Naathree saw Megaera smile.