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"A message for the Sith Citadel." Lieutenant Rogar looked around himself.
His eyes lit on a small group of new recruits to the Imperial Reclamation Service. "You," he said to the nearest, a dark skinned young man whose adams apple bobbed awkwardly behind the tight collar of his uniform. They were all young and frightened-looking, but it could have been worse. They were all Human, at least. Potential officer material, if they survived.
"Yes, sir?" the recruit answered.
"I need a messenger to take this datapad and stack of flimsy to Lord Zash immediately." Rogar beckoned the young man over.
"Drellik should take it," one of the others piped up. "Sir. Drellik's brother is a Sith apprentice, sir."
The third recruit's eyes went wide. He opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking. He avoided eye contact with Rogar.
Lieutenant Rogar considered his options. Send the one he'd chosen first, and keep better discipline, or take the advice and encourage taking initiative. His own superior officer would have gone for the former every time. Because he'd seen how that practice turned out, Rogar went with the opposite. "Corporal Drellik? Looks like you've volunteered."
Rogar saw the pale young man go even paler. But he nodded. "Yes sir." And took the items Rogar handed him in trembling hands.
..
Talos Drellik did, yes, have a Sith brother. Or so his family claimed, and he'd told his fellow recruits one night, when they were all out drinking, about the threats Apprentice Drellik had made in response to their father's last attempt to contact him.
This was Vim and Woshi's idea of hazing, still, Talos considered. It seemed he had not made the inroads into personal camaraderie with them that he had thought. Even after buying several rounds of drinks together, and allowing himself to get drunker than he usually would have. There was nothing to be done but play along.
If he was lucky, he would not run into his brother at all. He would remain a completely anonymous message runner and nothing more.
He left the Imperial Reclamation office tower and walked around the second level down of the main square of Dromund Kaas. There was a kiosk, not too much further, that contained directions to the various destinations around the city itself, and one of those was the office he needed to find.
If he was even luckier, the Sith official he was taking the message to would be in an unusually good mood. Or busy taking out their much more likely bad mood on a convenient scapegoat so that Talos wouldn't become a less-convenient but easily within reach one.
There it was, the kiosk. Talos entered the name and waited. He had memorized the Imperial Reclamation top personnel, of course, and there were only a few Sith Lords among them, fewer than forty. Zash was in charge of reclaiming non-Holocron relics with the remnants of dead Sith, and this message must be related to that topic.
Directions showed up immediately and placed themselves on Talos's personal data pad. His fingers danced over its surface, lighting up a three-dimensional map he could easily commit to memory. He placed the device back into its storage pocket and headed that direction on foot.
He enjoyed walking the pedestrian levels of the city. The rain, the smells, the sky, water pooling on the walkways, its surface reflecting lights from the buildings that surrounded them, all spoke eloquently to him of Empire, of history, of layers of meaning he longed to know in full.
When Talos arrived at the building in which the Sith's office was situated, he had reached an equilibrium of suppressed fear and assumed fatalistic calm. They liked it when you were afraid of them. You wanted them to sense fear, so they didn't think you were a threat, but not too much fear, because you didn't want them to like you so much they decided to keep you around for entertainment.
What the Force had in store for him, Talos would perforce accept.
He took a breath and then a step into the high arch of the entryway. To the left, a row of the red-uniformed masked Sith guard; to the right, a small knot of black-robed figures with bare heads, dark curly hair, sleek blonde hair, and patchy dark hair with protruding horns. One of them was a Zabrak.
Slave race Sith tended to be extra violent to make up for their bad childhoods. Or to keep the others from thinking they were weak, maybe. It hardly mattered why to Talos, only thinking of the reasons helped him keep his precarious internal balance. He would walk past without comment on any of these incredibly dangerous individuals that surrounded him, any of whom could kill him with no effort and no consequences. They probably wouldn't.
He wasn't too frightened, because none of them was his brother.
As he walked to the elevator, the blonde Sith left the other two and came toward him. "From the Imperial Reclamation Service, aren't you?" she asked. She was pretty, as many of the women apprentices were. Her voice had kindly overtones, much rarer.
Talos stopped. Walking on as if he hadn't heard her might be a fatal offense. "Yes. I am bringing a message, my Lord. For Lord Zash, office on the third level." Every Sith was "my lord" if you valued your life. He hoped this conveyed his unavailability at the moment for whatever whim had possessed her to approach him.
Unfortunately, it seemed it had not. "I'm going up there myself in a moment. I'll take you. But first, come settle an argument for me. These fellows think Em-Oon Kaf was buried on Ilum. He has a tomb there, you see."
Talos frowned instinctively before he could school his expression to neutrality. "He has tombs on Korriban and Alotor III also, and Darivan Kolu," he said, not having even meant to speak. "Er. What should I tell them, my Lord?"
"That will be just the thing," she said, not like a Sith, but more like an indulgent aunt. Talos had three of those, his mother's younger half-sisters, so he knew the tone well. Maybe she wasn't a Sith? But she hadn't corrected him calling her "lord" so he thought she must be. Maybe she had mind controlled him already, and he was hallucinating this.
"My master was at his tomb not long ago, and showed me a holo-recording. His bones were there," the Zabrak was saying to the curly-haired human apprentice as the woman and Talos approached.
"I've found an expert from the Imperial Reclamation Service," she said brightly.
Two pairs of yellow glowing eyes bored into Talos from the faces of the two Sith. He managed not to let fear overwhelm him. He had been looked at by his brother; this was easy by comparison.
He explained about the multiple tombs, how none of the skeletons in any of them had been proven to be that of Kaf himself, and had begun the risky process of explaining how he knew these things without offending either of the Sith when the one who'd dragged him into this deigned to offer him a lifeline out from the pit she'd dropped him into. "That should be enough to go on with, I should think. We have an appointment on the third level that won't wait much longer," she said, and brought him to the elevator.
She probably took the long way around, because their conversation as they walked covered history and archaeological subjects from the remaining fragments of the Sith'ari prophecies to the controversy over the existence of the Zeison Sha. She was so knowledgeable and easy to talk to, Talos found himself conversing far more freely than he ever would have thought he might with a Sith lord.
They finally reached what must be Lord Zash's office. With the confidence of a Sith lord and the breezy nonchalance of a socialite, the blonde Sith led the way through. The young man sitting at the desk in the outer office opened his mouth, but didn't manage to say anything before the blonde Sith hustled herself and Talos past him and into the inner office. The door slid shut behind them.
Talos looked around himself. There were so many rare and priceless artifacts in the room that his eyes didn't know where to rest first. The etched metal of the hinged bracer created three hundred years ago by Serthola Vie or possibly one of her apprentices, the thousand-year old Dashade ritual pyramid, the relic from the tomb of Darth Absol that wasn't so much ancient as thought destroyed by separatist rebels shortly before Talos was born.
He was so distracted he didn't notice the Sith had made her way behind what had to be Lord Zash's own desk and sat in the chair, watching him with what had to be the mildest amusement he'd ever seen on the face of a Sith lord. "Er, I wouldn't think you should sit there, my Lord."
The blonde Sith raised her eyebrows, but the look was tempered with a teasing smile. "I shouldn't sit down in my own office?"
"This is your office? I thought it was," he hesitated, realization dawning, though it was too late to stop the shuttle of his sentence from coming in for a landing hot, "Lord Zash's office."
"Oh, it is," she said. "I am Lord Zash, and you are?"
"Drellik," he stammered, then cleared his throat and composed himself. They had been conversing for nearly half an hour; he could manage to introduce himself properly. "Corporal Talos Drellik of the Imperial Reclamation Service, my Lord."
"Splendid. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Drellik." She extended her hand to him in the least Sithly gesture he could imagine. Talos found himself unable to move to take it. "Please don't think too badly of me. You seemed so focused and knowledgeable, I couldn't resist. A little indulgence now and then brings great benefit, I find." There was a twinkle in her eye that in anyone not a Sith lord would have seemed friendly and pleasant. "Now, what is this message you've been sent to give me? Don't keep me waiting any longer."
Somehow Talos found the strength to, with barely trembling hands, lay the datapad and stack of flimsy on Lord Zash's desk.
"The site analysis I requested on the lands Darth Vowrawn has requisitioned for his statue! How timely. Did you write these yourself, Mr. Drellik?"
He shook his head. "No, my Lord." He wasn't even sure who had done so, but he knew the standards. "The names of those who compiled the report will be in the attribution partition of the datapad." She no doubt knew that already. He cringed inwardly in anticipation of her taking offense.
But she did not. She had him take a seat while she examined the report, which was a welcome opportunity to return to studying the wonderful artifacts she had collected to display here in her office. He lost track of time making mental notes on perhaps half of what was there when she interrupted the process. "Mr. Drellik, I find myself in further need of your services. This report is thorough, but hollow, lacking depth or subtext. I would find your personal observations on the situation of great help. The people involved are just as important as the place, wouldn't you agree?. Please take the datapad, so you can read it for yourself, and make your way to the statue site. Is there really nothing of archaeological importance there to displace? And if that is the case, why was it kept as a preserve until now?"
"I was only sent as a messenger," he said. Not that he wouldn't do as she commanded. He valued his life, and also as a Sith lord she was a superior officer in every way that counted, so her orders were his duty. But it wasn't at all what he had thought he'd been sent here for.
She ignored the protest as if he had not been so rude as to speak it aloud. "There is one other thing," she said in a lower tone, as if sharing a personal confidence. "This artifact. Do you recognize it?" Lifting a small but heavy-looking box, she opened it to show that there was within it an asymmetrical yellow metal plate, slightly curved, inlaid with geometric shapes in black and dark red.
He had never seen its like before. He gestured his ignorance, and bore her gaze with tense resignation.
She studied him intently, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with what she had seen. "I need it replaced in an old Sith temple that is not too far out of your way. I'll put the coordinates in the datapad. They'll take you to a circular room with pillars on the ground floor. Leave this box in the center."
"Might we not want to catalogue the artifact, for posterity, before we..." His voice trailed off as he saw the shift in her demeanor.
Lord Zash's convivial warmth had begun to ice over. "Never you mind. It will return to me, in time."
"Of course, my lord." Talos found himself unable to do anything but assent to everything she asked of him. He wasn't sure if it was Sith compulsion or his own recognition of inevitability.
"This should stay only between you and me. Be discreet, Mr. Drellik."
"Silent as the grave, my Lord."
"I look forward to seeing what you can accomplish. I feel sure it will be to our mutual benefit." The ice had all melted; she smiled in that un-Sithly way he was already becoming familiar with. "On your return, contact my office, and arrangements will be made."
..
After reporting back to Lieutenant Rogar, Talos set about readying himself to undertake the mission entrusted to him by Lord Zash. Rogar had been reasonable about it, not that he'd had much more choice than Talos had, but he could have taken any anger he felt about having one of his recruits commandeered on said recruit, and he hadn't, for which Talos felt grateful.
He enjoyed walking around the city, but walking out into the wilderness was another thing entirely. He wanted to arrange transportation. His budget didn't stretch to purchasing a vehicle, or even hiring one, and the transport hubs didn't go all the way out to his destinations. Which were not as close to one another as the Sith had implied, either.
Before he found his answer, one was dropped in his lap. As uncomfortable as that metaphor made it sound, it was less so than the reality.
The man who said he was to be Talos's driver appeared to be an ordinary human Imperial citizen, a decade or two older than Talos himself. He had a local Dromund Kaas accent when he introduced himself as Winzed Tryce.
Figuring out that Tryce was Imperial Intelligence was easier than figuring out how to evade him. Talos decided it was better to go along with the situation than try to confront someone who had that look of an experienced dirty fighter. Being older was an advantage, not a handicap, and Talos really did need transportation. The tricky bit would be taking care of Lord Zash's secret errand without letting the agent figure out that was what he was doing.
The man might possibly be helpful when it came to surveying the site where the senior Sith planned his scaled up vanity project. Talos gave some thought to what he might ask Tryce to do, until he was distracted by movement out the speeder window. A holo-projection flickered, parts embedded in rocky outcrops, but giving scale to the whole endeavor.
The statue was going to be enormous. Dozens of alien slaves were at work on the site, patrolling the stakes they had set up at the boundary. Spotting a flat, empty area, he directed Tryce to park there. He thought about asking Tryce to accompany him, or to stay with the vehicle, but the man was going to do whatever he was going to do. He decided not to waste his time giving orders that would either be ignored or used as cover.
Talos exited the speeder and took a look around, viewing the site as a whole. A mixed group of Twi'lek and Rattataki were setting charges into the side of a rocky hill. A single Chagrian man stood apart from the group, monitoring what Talos thought was likely to be the control panel for the explosives. Talos approached cautiously, occasionally glancing back at Tryce and the speeder. Well, he saw the speeder. No sign of its driver, though.
"Excuse me," Talos said when he was in what he understood as the Chagrian acceptable conversational distance, "I'm from the Imperial Reclamation Service. I know we've had someone out here already. I only have a few questions."
The Chagrian answered in his own language. Talos could read it a little, had not a year ago painstakingly translated the text on a significant Chagrian artifact while updating the catalogue of his mentor's collection, but he couldn't make out what the man was saying.
Tryce stepped in to translate. Talos couldn't keep himself from jumping at the surprise, because he would have sworn that a moment earlier, Tryce had been nowhere in sight. But here he was, explaining that the Chagrian hadn't understood Talos and was asking if he was lost. Then he rattled off a few sentences of Chagri, eliciting an answer twice as long in the same language.
Talos caught a few words. Stone, dangerous, stand; that last seemed to be in a sentence that had to mean "stand far away from the explosion." Followed by a short sentence that featured the verb meaning 'to die in air,' which was a culturally marked term as most Chagrians died underwater, linguistically if not literally. Dying in air meant dying an accidental or untimely death.
He made a mental note. The slaves had been directed to carry out the demolition at speed. Either the Sith Lord Vowrawn didn't believe he had much time in which to accomplish his goal, or there was a secondary goal to destroy something that was already here under cover of construction necessity. "It is unfortunate," he said in halting Chagri. Then he watched the Chagrian's expression.
Both, he thought, taking in the look Tryce and the Chagrian both gave him.
"No need to be afraid," Tryce assured him.
The Chagrian's statement seemed the opposite, complimenting him on how wise he was to have an appropriate level of fear. He seemed to have got the idea that Talos knew his language, just not fluently, because he said it slowly enough and enunciated clearly so Talos found it much easier to follow.
But in both cases, they had to think about it, to decide not to mention the first thing that they thought of, to distract from it. The unfortunate nature of the rush job the slaves were doing. Talos felt sure Tryce knew, maybe not everything, but something he did not, and something that had not been in the report that had been given to Lord Zash.
As Talos moved on to speak with other slaves and their supervisors around the site, Tryce vanished again. He reappeared at the vehicle when Talos was done.
Skill at stealth or some sort of Intelligence technology they didn't share? Talos wasn't sure. Same as before, it could well be the answer was "both."
He turned his mind to his plan for delivering Lord Zash's artifact without letting her secrets slip to Tryce. It was simple enough. "I need to pick up some samples at the Sith Temple at this coordinate location next, then back to the Citadel," he said, exactly as if to a simple driver who had no Intelligence connection whatsoever.
And, like that driver, Tryce navigated them to the landing point outside the protected area around the historical preserve. "This place is a bit more dangerous," Tryce said, sounding cheerful.
"Fewer slaves around to warn you about the explosions?" Talos joked.
"Strange things happen hereabouts. People get more violent, or I should say, less sensible about violence. Stop caring about protecting their own skins. That whole Dark Side thing." Tryce looked uncomfortable. "We're better off with two of us than alone here."
Darth Zash hadn't said anything about that. But then, he had known this was going to be a kind of test. Talos reminded himself he had no choice. He had to do this. It was riskier to go back to a Sith, even one who acted nice, and tell them you hadn't even attempted to do what they said, than to maybe stop caring for a little while about saving his own skin.
It kind of, he thought, sounded enjoyable. A load off his mind, a brief vacation from being afraid he was going to die. He smiled.
Tryce's eyes widened fractionally and his eyebrows twitched. "Let's go," he said gruffly, and led the way. Talos followed, carrying the box he'd explained as the sample case. For bringing back the samples he was going to get.
This being a dangerous place, Tryce's obvious fear of it, was playing right into Talos's plan.
..
"And then," he explained to Lord Zash in triumph, "when I'd set the case down just where you wanted it, while he was still near the door watching those two shadows that were acting so strangely, I shrieked, ran past him, and right out of there. He followed. Told him I'd seen a huge creature in there, that I'd rather face you without the samples than be its next meal."
"You sound as if you enjoyed yourself, Mr. Drellik," Lord Zash said.
Talos decided that, since it was not a question, it did not require an answer. "He wished me luck and drove me back here," he said. "And based on his behavior at the statue site, I think he must know some things about that. You might want to question him about that? While you were finding out what he knows, what the other reason might be for choosing that site for the statue and demolishing those hills, you could see if he caught on to what I was doing in the Sith Temple."
She nodded. "Is that your recommendation?"
"Yes, my Lord."
..
Lieutenant Rogar found himself only moderately surprised when the order came through that he was to reassign Corporal Talos Drellik to report to Lord Zash. Better him than me, he thought, taking care of the necessary bureaucratic processing for the transfer.
If a Sith had to take a liking to him and decide to keep him, at least it was the one who was unsettlingly nice. She was certainly hiding something, Rogar knew, and it was none of his business, nor anyone's who wasn't Sith. Talos would stick to doing his job, if he knew what was good for him. He put the commanding officer's seal on the transfer papers and sent it over to the parallel hierarchy in the Citadel.