Crown of Slaves 038 (Patreon)

Kory had never, in her life, expected to find herself in a situation like this. Fucked to death, worked to death, killed in an accident due to poor work conditions, killed because someone powerful didn’t like her face, killed because someone was bored…those, she had expected. Vestara had saved her from all of that, and though she routinely felt like she was being fucked to death, she knew Vestara would never -could never- be like so many other people in the silver-haired Sith’s position would have been.

She’d been happy, getting ruined every night -damn near every day as well- since Vestara had first laid claim to her, and since they’d reached Dromuund Kaas her life had gotten even better. Asmu-Nikal had seen to it that she’d had every old injury treated, several of her scars removed, and she was no longer a scrawny, half-starved and terrified slave girl, but a well-fed and damn-near lazy young woman that luxuriated in her submission. Not to mention that she’d found quite the kindred spirit in Kela, who had not only been Vestara’s first fuck and not only continued to think of fun and creative ways that they could get their mutual owners off, but was also a playful, funny, sharp young woman that Kory quite happily spent hours chatting with about anything and everything.

But her devotion to Vestara was the most important thing in her life, and when Vestara had asked her if she would be willing to join the so-called ‘Revanites’ -worshiping the legends of some Jedi-turned-Sith-turned-Jedi from a few centuries ago- for a good cause, she’d agreed immediately. How could she not? She had never once had cause to doubt her mistress’ judgment, and there were far too many eyes on Vestara for her to be sneaking around the planet anyway. So here she was, someone that had survived Korriban only because she was the beloved pet of someone truly powerful, wandering through the woods in an effort to locate the hidden central camp of a faction that the Empire as a whole was very interested in annihilating to the last.

Well, at least it wasn’t raining for once. It was humid, of course, and a bit foggy, but not actively pouring, which would have made the hour-long walk she’d been on considerably more unpleasant than it already was. And, as a pleasant bonus, she hadn’t been jumped by all that many beasts, either. A couple of tuk’ata, which were unpleasant but well within her ability to kill, especially now that she was far better equipped than she had been on Korriban.

She might not be allowed a ‘saber, certainly not until her mistress tossed off the facsimile of a collar that Zash had around her neck and she could make her own rules, she now had damn fine armor, a high-quality military vibrosword, and a blaster. More than enough to keep her safe from any average threat, man or beast alike. Hopefully, enough to help her stay alive with this…cult she was on her way to visit as well.

A cult whose camp she should be getting fairly close to this point, she thought.

An hour, perhaps, more or less? Mmh. Vestara had said she would recognize it when she found it. She’d just have to trust that was the truth.

The camp, when she finally stumbled upon it precisely sixty-nine minutes later, was nowhere near as impressive as she’d half-expected, though perhaps in hindsight she shouldn’t have expected anything too obvious given how much people wanted the Revanites dead. Nothing more than a scattering of prefab shelters tucked beneath the dripping canopy, mud-churned paths worn between them, inside of an admittedly-strong and energized-looking fence.

Of course, she wasn’t able to discern much more than that before a dozen people -some wearing robes and carrying a mix of vibroswords and lightsabers, the rest in armor of varying quality and carrying blasters- melted out of the forest around her with their weapons ready. Force, she hadn’t even sensed them, and not just because of the general cacophony and interference from the planet around them. They were cloaking themselves, somehow, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they were fading themselves into the background?

And why was she thinking about something like that under the current circumstances? There were other things to worry about right now!

“Don’t shoot!” she called out, keeping her voice steady even as her heart hammered against her ribs hard enough that she was sure they could all hear it. Her experiences at the Academy and aboard the Black Talon were useful for keeping fairly cool under pressure, if nothing else. Silver linings and all that. “I’m not here to fight. I promise. I’m here to help you.”

A woman stepped forward from the ring people around her. She was a fair bit older and more weathered than the rest, her robes a faded gray-brown that had clearly seen better decades, a somewhat-battered lightsaber hilt held loosely at her side rather than ignited. Her physical age and somewhat-worn appearance didn’t seem to have compromised her mind any, however, because her eyes were sharp and evaluating as she scrutinized the far younger girl before her.

“Help us.” she spoke, her voice flat, even disbelieving as she let her eyes linger on Kory’s equipment. “A girl, dressed as though she’s stepped out of some noble’s guard, walks alone out of the forest, equipped for a fight she says she doesn’t want, to track us down…and then she tells us she wants to help. Forgive me if I find that a bit convenient.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“A girl that isn’t entirely unknown to us at that. We know who you are. We’ve kept a close eye on House Luwian and your mistress, as we’ve been able to, since her foray through the storms into the Dark Temple, and most especially since her little purge when she returned. Why are you here?”

Kory made herself hold that gaze, made herself stand up straight even with a dozen weapons pointed her way, because Vestara had faith in her, needed her to do this. Not that it was easy, of course, even with that determination, that devotion to stiffen her spine. This wasn’t the world she wanted to live in, and she hoped that Vestara would never need to ask something like this of her again in the future.

“Because my mistress asked me to.” She kept her chin level, her voice even, though her heart hadn’t slowed at all. “She could have come herself, wanted to come herself, but it wasn’t possible. If you’re watching her as closely as you claim to be, you know why. So I’m here to help both of us. Your group, and ours.”

“…explain.”

“Both your leader and my mistress want the Empire to change. Both of them want the Empire to be better than it is, more than it is. My mistress believes that the Emperor’s plans are turning the Empire into a weapon aimed as much at itself as at the Republic, and that unless something changes, we’re all going to bleed out from wounds we inflict on ourselves. She isn’t willing to sit by and let that happen. Neither, from what she’s told me, is your leader.”

The older woman’s eyes didn’t waver, but something in the set of her shoulders shifted, just slightly, and Kory allowed herself the faintest flicker of hope that this was going to go better than she’d feared, perhaps even as well as she might have dreamed.

“Pretty words. The Sith are full of pretty words when it suits their purposes.” The woman’s mouth thinned, though her lightsaber remained unlit at her hip and she hadn’t given the others any sort of signal. The small flicker grew a bit larger. “What proof do you offer beyond your mistress’s supposed good intentions? What proof is any of this that I shouldn’t kill you now for being a plot, a trap, a traitor-in-waiting?”

“My mistress is powerful and gifted in foresight. She knows the name of your leader, and she gave it to me, as proof of her goodwill.”

Kory said the words simply, far more simply and calmly than she could possibly have felt. She’d argued against such directness, energetically, but Vestara had been positive: the Revanites were smart enough to recognize that she never would have bother sending Kory as a plot if she knew such a valuable secret from the outset. Likewise, they would recognize that harming her would only push Vestara into turning against them entirely.

“Not another word!” the woman’s voice cracked like a whip before she could continue, and she looked sharply around at her subordinates. “All of you, disperse! Back to your duties. I will escort this one to the camp myself and speak to her in private. Dzoun!”

An older man paused where he’d been in the midst of leaving, looking back with an arched eyebrow.

“Double the guards, and reach out to our agents. I want to know if there is any unusual movement from the Sith or Imperial Intelligence. I’m not inclined to trust the safety of our people on this chit’s good sense or trustworthiness.”

“Understood. I will comply.” Dzoun didn’t question the order or hesitate to obey, merely nodding once before melting back into the trees, taking the rest of the group with him just as swiftly and silently as they’d appeared.

Which left Kory alone with the older woman, standing in the muddy clearing with the fence humming faintly somewhere off to her left, and a descending fog that was as spiritual as it was physical pressing against her from all sides. She -wisely, she had no doubt- kept her hands loose at her sides, well away from the vibrosword and blaster, trying to project every ounce of harmlessness that she could manage while still standing tall.

“Walk with me.” The woman didn’t wait to see if Kory obeyed, simply turning and striding toward the nearest of the prefab shelters, her robes dragging faint trails through the mud behind her. “You will be searched and scanned and searched again, and then we will see just what it is that you believe you know.”

Kory fell into step a pace behind and to the side, the way she’d learned to walk behind Vestara when others of higher rank hadn’t already claimed the spot. A position that left her close enough to be attentive and useful, but far enough away to not crowd the one she was with. It seemed the safer instinct to follow here, too, even if this woman wasn’t her mistress and never would be, if only because she wasn’t stupid enough to think that she could be trusted to trail directly behind someone who would be watching her for ambush.

The shelter they ducked into smelled primarily of damp canvas and rust, which told her exactly how marginalized and ill-equipped this little cult actually was, though she had to admit that their existence and survival this long was impressive even if the equipment they actually possessed wasn’t. It was also not empty, because two Revanites her own age -both women, of course- were waiting with placid expressions.

“Strip her, search her, scan her. Thoroughly.” the woman that had brought her here ordered, standing behind her. Hand on her ‘saber hilt, no doubt, ready to cut Kory down if it should prove necessary. Which it wouldn’t, because Kory had no intention whatsoever of betraying the Revanites and getting herself killed. She didn’t even protest as the two younger women stepped forward, their hands deft and impersonal as they unbuckled the straps of her armor, piece by piece, until she stood shivering in the damp air in nothing but her skin. One of them ran a scanning wand over her body -the device chirping softly, almost cheerfully- methodically and intimately, from her scalp down to between her thighs to the soles of her feet, while the other went through her discarded gear with the careful thoroughness of someone who had done this many times before and knew what they were looking for. Checking every seam of her armor, every compartment of her belt, even stripping down her weapons and holocom to check their internal components.

“No transmitters. No trackers, not that I can find, at least none that our equipment can detect. And no implanted weapons or poisons, either” the woman with the scanner finally reported, glancing toward the older woman still standing sentinel by the tent flap. “She’s as clean as she can be, so far as I can tell.”

“Nothing out of sorts here, either.” the other confirmed, gesturing broadly to the equipment that she had been searching, the faintest expression of relief on her face and in her presence within the Force, which Kory found a bit gratifying.

“Good.” There was a soft rustle as the older woman finally let go of her lightsaber hilt, and Kory felt the tension bleed out of the air, if only marginally. “You may dress. I apologize for the indignity, but I trust you understand our caution.”

“I do.” Kory gathered her divested clothes and armor quickly, dressing and buckling herself back into her gear with fingers that had gone a little numb from the damp chill of standing buck naked in a canvas tent for however many minutes it had taken them to be thorough. Better cold and searched than dead, and better dead herself than having brought potential harm to the woman she loved by making an enemy of these people. “I understand completely. And a bit of discomfort is plenty tolerable for a good cause.”

“Good. Then I will take you to speak with The Master, and we will see what they make of you. Come along.”

Along Kory came, following her out of the tent, deeper into the complex, and into another, rather larger and nicer one on the far side of the camp. Still clearly temporary, still clearly meant to be packed up or abandoned in a hurry if it proved necessary, but also well-equipped. Probably the closest thing the Revanites had to a command center, really, at least for this cell.

It also had a large holocom in the middle of it, and as she and her escort approached it, it flickered to life.

Just as her mistress had said, the figure standing before her was dressed in the same way that the ancient Jedi-turned-Sith had, complete with the mask he had apparently made famous. She could see why someone might find the image intimidating, or inspiring as the case might be, especially when that eyeslit visibly focused on her.

“So, this is the girl I was told about?” a voice so heavily modulated that she never would have imagined it was a woman asked, and Kory’s escort nodded in confirmation. A soft crackling sound, probably the microphone trying to carry a sight or a hum, followed before ‘The Master’ gestured with one hand. The older woman bowed and withdrew, leaving Kory alone with the image, who folded it’s hands behind her back. “You claim that your mistress has visions, that she knows my name?”

“Your name, and your face. She offers those facts, in detail, as proof of her good-will and desire to work with you, provide you with information that you are sure to be seeking.” Kory confirmed, taking a deep breath as the figure tilted her head slightly to one side and made a gesture of invitation. Squaring her shoulders, she met the distant woman’s eyes and took the plunge. “Your name is Tari Darkspanner, a Lord in the Pyramid of Defense. You’re a human female, with dark skin, black hair, brown eyes, and red-gold marks on your forehead and cheeks.”

It was obvious that she had surprised the other woman, given the way Darkspanner shifted, but she continued on relentlessly.

“You first learned of Revan during your time on Korriban, and came to believe that he overthrew the Sith Emperor when he visited Dromuund Kaas three centuries ago. You believe he sits on the Imperial Throne, but is held captive by the Dark Council. You formed the Order of Revan to adhere to his example of balancing Light and Dark, and to someday free him from that captivity.”

The mask’s eyeslit didn’t move, but something in the way the figure held itself changed, the shoulders drawing back a fraction, the hands behind the back tightening. Kory couldn’t tell if that was surprise, anger, or something else entirely, not through a hologram and not with someone wearing a mask and whose very voice was disguised beyond recognition.

“Continue,” Darkspanner drawled the word out slowly, after a silence that stretched long enough that Kory’s pulse had time to climb another notch. “Since you clearly have more to say.”

“That’s the whole of what she gave me to say, about you specifically.” Kory kept her hands loose at her sides, resisting the urge to fidget, to prove with her body language just how nervous she actually was. Vestara wouldn’t fidget, she knew. Vestara would stand here like she owned the tent, the camp, the whole damn planet, but that’s why she was the Mistress and Kory the devoted slave. “I…there are a few other things she mentioned, about what trials you might have me do, and what she hopes to do alongside you going forward, but it was all very vague and hinged on what happens now that I told you?”

“…hmmm. We will have to see, but your mistress was quite correct. She knows things that no one else alive knows, and what she knows is more than enough to destroy myself and the Order if she so wished it. Very well then, I shall trust -tentatively, perhaps, but trust all the same- in the good will of your mistress. I take it she intends for you to be our point of contact?”

“For so long as she is on Dromuund Kaas, certainly, and possibly thereafter. I believe she intends to see how things play out over the next few weeks, and speak with you directly on how things will be moving forward.”

Tari hummed again, nodding slowly.

“Very well then. Your trials will begin now…”

###################################################################################

Escaping from Grathan’s estate wasn’t the most difficult thing in the world, mechanically speaking, given the sabotage they’d wrought, their collective talents, and -most especially- the droid soldiers that they’d liberated from Grathan’s programming. That wasn’t to say that it was easy, however, nor anything remotely approaching bloodless.

In point of fact, quite a lot of people had died, all of us that had survived were injured to a greater or lesser degree, and Grathan’s estate was well on its way to being cleared by the Imperial loyalists, which was probably going to result in a great deal more death. Much of whom would, regrettably, be people that hadn’t done anything more to earn their demise than been caught up in one Sith Lord’s bruised-ego-born temper-tantrum, but there wasn’t really anything I could do to prevent that.

We’d probably have made it out unnoticed, too, if it hadn’t been for me. I hadn’t been able to resist sending Shan and his unit to retrieve Revan’s mask, well aware of how valuable a bargaining chip -and how powerful a symbol- it actually was. They’d gone, they’d gotten it, and they’d been spotted in the effort. A quiet exfiltration had become a fighting retreat, one that had only been possible -at least without far more serious injuries- thanks to the heroism of those boys and girls.

They’d died, again, to the last covering our escape -or, in the case of Shan himself, destroying the machines used to make them in the first place- and stacking their enemies high in the effort. Hells, they’d died so damn well that Khem had even voiced a -admittedly begrudging- compliment in the direction of their shattered chassis. It…hadn’t been pleasant, feeling them passing into the Force and knowing they were doing it more-or-less on my behalf, but I’d also felt their…well, it wasn’t quite joy, but certainly a powerful relief.

Not that Zash had cared. The minute the proverbial balloon had gone up -which she’d doubtlessly gotten reports on from someone, the balloon had certainly been a noticeable one- she’d started dropping calls on Vestara, leaving messages ‘requesting’ status updates. Lots of calls. Calls I very specifically hadn’t answered until we were safely behind allied lines and enroute back to the Luwian Estate, and I damn well hadn’t gone to meet her until I’d had Nicky lock Revan’s mask away somewhere very safe.

Zash hadn’t been terribly thrilled about the delay, of course, but once I’d explained the somewhat fraught circumstances I’d been in -combined with the fact that she didn’t care overmuch how obedient I was, so long as she eventually got the opportunity to steal my body- she’d been a bit more agreeable.

Small mercies, at least, that Zash’s ambitions ran toward patience more than immediate confrontation. I could work with patience, in fact I found patience quite ideal, given the circumstances. Not wanting me to confront Skotia quite yet -for what reason, I didn’t know. She didn’t care to tell me, and I didn’t care to guess- she told me that I was to amuse myself but ‘stay close to the city’.

Which was, more or less, how I found myself standing alone outside the looming, storm-lashed silhouette of the Citadel while the others peeled off to see to their own reports and requirements. Iisa -with Mako in tow- had gone first, practically at a jog, muttering something about needing to check in with her contact and see that her bounty had survived being turned in as a block of carbonite. Vriska had melted away almost as quickly, murmuring something about a debrief with her Minder that she clearly wasn’t looking forward to, her crimson eyes tight at the corners in a way that made me wonder if she might be wise to the problems with Jadus and Imperial Intelligence already.

I could but hope.

Which left Khem, and me, and the mildly unnerving prospect of walking into the Citadel to answer a summons that had never technically been sent in the first place.

I hadn’t expected the front desk droid —a spindly, officious little thing that I had suspected within moments of meeting it had been chosen specifically for its ability to project bored contempt through nothing more than the angle of its photoreceptors— to actually buy the lie. But the moment I’d murmured something vague about being expected, about my ‘summons’ from Darth Marr, the thing had simply trundled off to inform the man I was present without so much as a follow-up question, leaving me standing in the vast, echoing antechamber with Khem looming at my shoulder like an especially impatient thundercloud.

I didn’t have to wait long, either. Barely five minutes had passed, enough time for me to run through and discard a half-dozen possible explanations for my presence in case anyone did challenge it, before the lift at the far end of the antechamber hissed open and one of Marr’s aides —a lean, gray-uniformed man with the particular rigid care of someone who spent his days navigating the moods of the most powerful Sith on the planet— strode out to meet me.

“Apprentice Khai.” He didn’t quite bow, which was fair enough given what I was and what his master was, but the incline of his head was respectful enough. “Lord Marr will see you now. This way, please.”

I fell into step behind him, Khem’s heavy tread thudding against the metal floors at my back, and tried not to let my nerves show as we wound our way through corridors that seemed designed specifically to remind visitors of their own insignificance. In fact, I could almost guarantee exactly that was the goal, and I had to admit that it was working, because I sure as hell was feeling the pressure. Though that probably had to do with the fact that I was about to meet with a Dark Councillor who may have read between the lines of my little ploy, but may not be particularly happy about that ploy.

God, next time I was trying to pull something like this, I’d ask Kallig to be my messenger. Far less likely to go badly, at least depending on who it was that I sent them to. Marr and Lachris -had she claimed the title yet, I wondered? I’d ask Marr.- had already met him, that probably wouldn’t be an issue, but I’m not sure who else might take it so calmly.

A handful of minutes later, and the servant was bowing me through the doors to Marr’s private audience chamber slid open with a hiss of pressurized air, and I stepped through with what I hoped passed for confidence.

The man himself stood at the far end of the room, his back to a wide viewport that looked out over the storm-churned skies of Dromund Kaas, his mask reflecting the flicker of distant lightning in dull, ruby-tinged glass. He didn’t turn immediately, and I took the opportunity to study the room itself—spartan, functional, none of the ostentatious trophies or grim decorations that so many other Sith seemed to favor. Just a desk, a few chairs, and a holoterminal humming quietly in standby.

Curious, and interesting, and probably meaningful.

“Vestara Khai.” he greeted me, or aknowledged me, after a moment, though he still didn’t turn his physical gaze to me. “And, of course, the honored dashade of Tulak Hord himself. To think that you found a being such as he on Korriban, never mind won his loyalty. You continue to interest me.”

“I am flattered, my Lord…” I started, but faltered into silence as he turned to face me at last, a pressure dropping onto my shoulders.

“Yet, on the other hand, you proclaim without invitation that you are here to answer my summons. You are fortunate that I know you would not do such a thing without cause, or this conversation would be going very differently.”

“Fortunate, my Lord,” I said carefully, knowing I would probably be hearing about this from my ancestor -and everyone else- once I got back to the estate. “is a word I’ve come to appreciate more with every passing week.”

That, at least, earned something that might have been amusement, a faint shift in the set of his shoulders striking me in a way that was distinctly non-threatening. He gestured toward the chairs arranged before his desk, and I took the invitation gratefully, sinking into the seat while Khem remained standing somewhere behind me.

“You did not come here for idle conversation, and I did not summon you, so let us dispense with the pretense entirely.” Marr circled behind his desk, settling into his own seat in a sedate, unhurried movement that I’d come to associate with people who had long since stopped needing to prove anything to anyone. “Tell me why you have made such a ploy. Tell me what you have seen.”

I couldn’t conceal my surprise, and he gave a scoff that was slightly mocking and certainly amused.

“Don’t act so shocked, girl. You made your talents quite clear to me, and your regard for me is equally clear. You would not do something like this simply to preen for my approval for your successes thus far, nor are you so weak and cowardly to whine about some manner of unfairness you’ve suffered in the hopes that I would settle a score on your behalf.” he explained, shaking his head slightly. “Which leads me to believe, accurately it would seem, that you have come to inform me of something that will soon come to pass. Something you wish to influence, or prevent entirely, as you seek to prevent Corilla’s death. So, speak.”

The fact that he’d read me so precisely -and accurately, God!-, laid out my own motivations so easily, sent a small chill crawling up my spine that had nothing to do with the storm-cooled air of the chamber. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised —the man hadn’t earned his seat on the Dark Council, nor won his many victories, by being slow-witted or easily fooled— but there was something profoundly unsettling about being seen so thoroughly by someone I’d only met a handful of times.

“You’re entirely correct, my Lord.” I saw no point whatsoever in trying to deny it or play the moment off, especially not since it would simplify things and make this conversation go at least a little bit faster. “There is something coming. Something I would very much like to prevent, or at least mitigate, before it costs the Empire more than we can afford to lose. You’re familiar with Darth Jadus?”

“You mean the Head of Imperial Intelligence, my colleague on the Dark Council? The man with whom I regularly meet, so that I can put the information his subordinates gather to good use for the purposes of the Pyramid which I command?” Marr asked dryly, dryly enough I could hear the look he was no doubt giving me from behind his mask, and I winced.

“Yes, alright. Ask a stupid question, I suppose.” I muttered, shaking my head, before huffing out a sigh. “He is everything you’d expect from a man in his position, yes. Extraordinarily perceptive, extraordinarily powerful, and extraordinarily well-placed to know things before anyone else does. Which is precisely the problem.” I met his masked gaze as steadily as I could manage, aware that whatever I said next would need to be chosen with care. Marr respected pragmatism, respected results, but I doubted he had much patience for me dancing around a point when I’d already admitted to my purpose. And I wasn’t sure he’d have much patience for me wording things vaguely or gently for the sake of diplomacy either. Not about a potential threat to the Empire he so loved. “He’s not wrong about the disease afflicting the Empire, my Lord. The infighting, the purebloods looking down their noses at every other species that bleeds red for the Empire same as they do, Sith undermining Sith because pride matters more than victory. He sees it as clearly as you do, I imagine. What concerns me are the methods he intends to use to cure it.”

Marr didn’t move, didn’t speak for several long seconds, the silence deep enough and long enough that I could hear the faint hum of the holoterminal and the distant rumble of thunder beyond the viewport. When he finally responded, his voice had dropped a register, gone flat and cold in a way that made me acutely aware of every hair standing up along my arms. Oh, God, he was not happy.

“Continue.”

“He intends to orchestrate his own death. Publicly, spectacularly, in a way that will look like an act of terrorism carried out by dissidents within the Empire itself.” The words were coming in a rush now, desperate as I was to make sure I could finish explaining before his patience and willingness to hear me out expired. “He’ll take a significant number of Sith and Imperial officials with him. People he considers dead weight, obstacles, or simply expendable. He’ll bring them all aboard the Dominator, for his cross-Empire tour, and have the ship blown up. The Council and their subordinates will turn on each other to claim his resources, and when you’ve all near-annihilated one another, he’ll come back and finish the job. Create a ‘new Empire’, without infighting, ruled by fear of his power.”

The mask remained perfectly still, and for a moment I genuinely couldn’t tell whether Marr was going to explode or simply try and order Khem to eat me for the sheer audacity of what I’d just accused a fellow Dark Councillor of plotting. Neither reaction would have surprised me, honestly.

Fortunately, he proved my hopes -that he would place value in my words, as he had before, and hear what I had to say- entirely merited.

“You are certain of this.”

“As certain as I can be of anything that hasn’t happened yet, my Lord.” I kept my hands folded in my lap, resisting the urge to fidget under that impassive stare. “I’ve been wrong about details before, the future can change based on the rippling effect from actions I take or decisions I make. Timing, specifics, the exact manner in which things unfold, that sort of thing. But the broad strokes of it all? The intent, the ambition, the cost he’s willing to pay to achieve it? I don’t doubt that for a moment. I just…don’t know what can be done about it. There certainly isn’t anything I can do about it, not as I am, so I knew that I had to tell you.”

Marr was quiet long enough that I started to wonder if I’d gotten in over my head again, if the regard and tentative trust in my abilities I’d built before I went to Korriban had been broken by the sheer weight of what I’d accused a Dark Councillor of plotting. My pulse hammered against my throat, and I forced myself to hold still, to keep my hands folded and my spine straight, to show him as much with my body language as my Presence that I was being earnest and honest.

Finally, he rose from his seat, the motion so unhurried that it was terrifying, and crossed back toward the viewport. Lightning flickered somewhere out over the spires of the Citadel district, throwing brief silver light across the reflective surface of his mask.

“Do you understand what you are asking of me?” His voice remained level, but there was something beneath it now, an undercurrent of tension and anger. “To move against a sitting Council member, a colleague and ally, based on the visions of an apprentice barely off of Korriban? Do you realize the damage that this could do to the Empire, if you’re wrong?”

I considered what to say, how to say it. A passionate speech, maybe. A fiery declaration of what damage could be done. A fierce denunciation of hesitation or of his lack in faith in my ever-so-prodigious ‘foresight’. In the end, though, I settled for three simple words.

“Yes. I do.”

Marr didn’t respond right away, his silhouette a black cut-out against the storm-glow of the window, and I made myself breathe evenly, made myself hold still in my chair while every instinct screamed at me to fill the silence with more words, more justifications, more anything.

“Not so very long ago,” Marr said finally, “I would have killed you in an instant for even suggesting such a thing. Not because I doubted your sincerity, but because sincerity is not proof, and the Council does not forgive those who move against their own on the strength of a hunch.” He turned back again, finally, the mask tilting fractionally as he studied me from behind it. “You are fortunate that I have come to trust that your hunches carry more weight than most men’s certainties. And you are equally fortunate that I know you’re not so foolish as to try and manipulate me, or I might have killed you regardless.”

“I’m well aware of how fortunate,” I reused the word deliberately. “I am, My Lord. I assure you, I am so very aware. All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is for the Empire to be great. For it to fulfill its own promise to itself, to its people. And I am more than willing, eager even, to use my visions in an effort to fulfill that goal.”

“Hmm. Good. Then we will speak further on this vision of yours, and I will ensure you have the means to reach me without anyone else interfering or gaining access to our conversations, so that you may tell me of others as they come.” he declared, returning his attention to the world outside. “So speak, Vestara Khai, and tell me everything that you can.”

Taking a deep breath and plumbing the depths of my memory as best I could, I started to do exactly that. It would be a long conversation, I had no doubt, and a stressful one, but…I had to have some faith in someone besides myself. I wouldn’t spill everything the game had taught me, if only to try and keep events from changing so greatly I couldn’t predict them anymore, but I didn’t think I could fix everything myself any longer.

And I wasn’t stupid enough to try.