Second Chance/Part 13

Zedum hissed through his sharp teeth as the shipboard medical droid tended to the stump of his hand, affixing a cybernetic cap over the cauterized flesh, fitting nerve endings into electrical relays. He had declined anesthetic as a matter of course; he felt no need to wallow in pain as a consequence of not defeating Cazars, but it would not do to appear weak before his colleagues. Besides, pain was among the easiest paths to focusing the dark side.

The loss of his hand was humiliating, but at least it had been against a Jedi of Cazars's stature. Worse was the loss of Ondar. The Hrakian had failed him; he had sensed his death from a few blocks away. True, Ondar had managed to distract Cazars long enough for Zedum to make his escape, but even with the worthless Swokes Swokes brute aiding him, Ondar had been unable to overcome Kal-Di. And his failure had left Zedum in an even worse position, deprived of his only Sith Lord and left with only a pair of Acolytes.

The droid tapped the stump cap with a needle-like digit, and the clamps around Zedum's wrist dug into his flesh, grafting in and anchoring to bone. The Pau'an snarled until the process was done and the droid said, "It is complete."

Zedum sneered, waving the stump. "Perhaps you've failed to notice the continuing absence of a hand?"

The droid's yellow photoreceptors and blank faceplate were as lifeless as Ondar's face had been in life; Sith droids were programmed for efficiency, not bedside manner. "A prosthetic must be custom-made for your species and dimensions, sir. It will be prepared and ready for attachment tomorrow."

"Worthless machine," Zedum spat. An entire day aboard the Unquenchable Fire without a hand. His lip curled as he imagined the cold amusement on Alecto's face, or Sar-hent's smug superiority. Perhaps the Jedi had been kind enough to rid the galaxy of them. "Be gone."

The droid turned without further acknowledgement, plugging into a data terminal and relaying updates. Zedum rose from his cot, examining his maimed wrist and the unadorned cybernetic cap before picking up his robe one-handed. The right sleeve was still singed where Cazars's blade had passed through. Zedum struggled to pull the ornate, heavy cloth on one-handed, then finally snarled and call upon the Force to slide it onto his frame. He looked around, clenching the fingers of his remaining hand, but his lightsaber and walking stick had been left behind on the battlefield; he rolled his eyes.

The medbay door opened, and Darth Hokhtan walked in, still wearing his armored robes although battle was long behind them. His eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep and yellow from calling upon the dark side; it seemed to throw the scars and pockmarks around them into greater relief. "Are you finished?"

Zedum waived his stump, teeth bared. "I'm told this machine can not fully prepare my replacement hand until tomorrow."

"Then there's no point waiting around here," the Sith general answered. "Come with me."

Though he hated to be summoned like some pet, it would not do to open hostilities with Darth Hokhtan yet. The Human had Darth Saleej's ear and his confidence, and their relationship was tense enough at the moment; Hokhtan had demanded every detail of Zedum's conduct on Taanab while the Pau'an was still examining the smoking flesh of his arm, and had made no effort to disguise his disdain at Ondar's death and Cazars's escape. Zedum rather thought Hokhtan would have fared no better, but it would be quite impolitic to say, so he fell in step with the other Sith and they strode into the corridor.

"Did we manage to inflict any parting shots?" Zedum asked, seeking to put Hokhtan on the defensive with his own sphere of the battle.

"Little we hadn't already done," he replied. "Darths Alecto and Vandak were intercepted by Darakhan."

"Did they manage to kill Darakhan?" Zedum asked innocently, hoping Darakhan had managed to kill one of them.

"A superficial wound only," Hokhtan said dismissively. "I commanded their retreat before the contest was decided."

"When we could have destroyed the generators and half of Pandath?" Zedum demanded.

"And lost them both in the bombardment." Hokhtan gave him a cold look. "Planets are replaceable; Darths aren't. Darth Saleej won't expend a Sith Lord's life until he's outlived his utility, and certainly not on a losing battle."

"And what will we tell him now?"

"Rhutizh and I have already spoken with him."

Zedum frowned; he had thought Saleej would consult all the Sith Lords who had survived Pandath together. "And?"

"We reported the loss of Taanab, and he was not pleased," Hokhtan answered in an obvious tone. "I relayed the comments of the various Sith Lords and reports from troops under their command."

"From troops?" Zedum asked, feeling a touch of unease. He was not sure what his men would have reported, not having seen them after the start of the battle.

"A strategist can't define his strategy without sufficient information," Hokhtan said.

"And what does our lord command?"

Hokhtan stared forward as they walked, his sunken eyes hard. "What I took for cowardice and incompetence, he somehow found to be inspired strategy and—how did he put it?—cost-benefit analysis. He's arranged a meeting for you with the Council of Five."

Zedum's eyes widened; he could not believe Darth Saleej had disregarded the counsel of his foremost lackey. Perhaps Rhutizh had vouched for him. But as he considered, the Pau'an settled into a cool expression. At last. The frustration of sacrificing Ondar receded. Darth Saleej might assign anointed Sith Lords as reluctantly as he would part with his own limbs, but the Council could hand out Sith like party favors.

"Where am I to meet them?" he asked with a smile.

Hokhtan's lip curled. "Don't get ahead of yourself, my lord. Only the Overlords see them in person.  You're to contact them by holo."

So he was not yet to be a Sith Overlord; disappointing, but not unmanageable. "When?"

"Now." Hokhtan's tone added the obviously. As they approached the bridge, he snapped his fingers, and two of the brutes outside the door detached themselves from the wall. "Escort Lord Zedum to the secondary holoconference room."

Zedum frowned. "Why not the bridge?"

Hokhtan gritted his teeth; Zedum sensed his patience fraying. "Because I must be in contact with Darth Saleej to reassemble the fleet, my lord. Go."

Zedum allowed a haughty smile to curve his leathery lips before he turned, following one of the enormous Sith guards and leaving Hokhtan fuming in the hall. The Council had spoken to Hokhtan before, Zedum knew; perhaps the Human fancied himself special. But perhaps he had peaked, risen to the limits of his utility; a capable field commander, Zedum would not deny that, but no more. One did not need to be a Darth to become an Overlord.

One did not need to be a Darth to sit on the Council.

Feeling the absence of his walking stick as they made their way down, Zedum simply flexed the fingers of his left hand until they arrived at a door. One of the brutes laid a hand on the activation plate while the other bowed and gestured forward.

As the door, Zedum stepped in, assembling his expression to be appropriately deferential to the beings who would one day rule the galaxy. He reached into the darkness and opened his eyes, beholding the empty storage room.

"I don't…no!"

He slapped his belt with the stump of his hand an instant before the fire burned through his back. The first blow severed his spine and paralyzed him; the second lacerated his trachea and sprayed the rising floor with a mist of blood. He never felt the last.