Dubrillion

[Cassandra]

Woman, good. Smash wasn't one to belittle someone if it was unneeded.

 

"My former employer was CorSec. You may worry about 'what if she betrays the Black Sun next?' You don't need to worry. All the reports I read have indicated that Black Sun agents stick together. CorSec abandons their own, Black Sun actually works together with several agents to obtain their objective. You may have heard about the CorSec building recently have been being bombed, and caught fire. That was me. My overall objective failed and I was forced to flee."

 

She took a breath.

 

"I am a very skilled pilot. I can plan a heist and execute it. Long-range weaponry is one of my specialties. I am willing to do anything to get the objective done. I am eager and willing to learn from the best."

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

Horatio sat back and listened to the new communications coming through the holo line. A new push for business. Good. He punched in a few comm numbers and listened to the dial tone. They were busy so he used the official PA system at the Dubrillion facility. "We need agents to head to Coruscant right away. Time and a half salary since you aren't student employees like the poor Black Sun Youth. But let me say you must be dressed in full suits. Mission details will be in the packets upon the shuttle chairs. Two shuttles. 40 agents needed. Thank you. KBS 4832, time marking 1900 hours."

 

Within an hour, two shuttles filled with heavily armed men and women departed for triple zero.

[Smash Daisaku]

Smash Daisaku rose from his throne, standing tall, with his hands at his waist. “I would love to see a real test of what you’re capable of doing for me and the mighty Black Sun. Cassandra, would you be willing to engage in a simple act of extortion for me? There is an unresolved matter with which you could prove very useful.”

[Smash Daisaku]

Per Smash Daisaku’s unspoken but forceful and intensely intimidating command, a subservient sycophant produced a small vial of highly potent acid, which was rested on a plush and high-priced red pillow. The glorified underling wasted no time handing it off to the extraordinarily rich criminal mastermind. “Ah yes.” Smash Daisaku responded, excitedly, noticing both the vial of acid and the lavish quality of the pillow. “This will do nicely.” Seizing it, Smash vehemently unscrewed the cap, flicking it off to the side, now holding the open vial in front of him. “So, now we shall test your loyalty, Cassandra. Do not disappoint me.”

 

Smash impressively held the acid up in his right hand, meticulously bound within his greedy fingers, motioning that he was about flick a healthy dose from the vial. “Black Sun employs the finest surgeons in the known galaxy. So, again, I remind you that this is a test.” He took a deep breath.

 

“Bow, woman!” The hallowed leader of the Black Sun pointed to the expensive floor at his feet. “Kneel in praise, and acknowledge me as both the Lord of the Dawn and the Dusk! Be my creature or you will only die in service to me trying.” Without giving the likely disgusted woman any chance to respond, Smash flawlessly flung the vial toward Cassandra’s face, unleashing a flurry of beads – of destructive liquid – which would atrociously disfigure her, at the bare minimum.

 

<<<$MA$H DAI$AKU’$ KILL$HOT REQUE$T –on– Cassandra>>>

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

The shuttle carrying Mr Mopreme arrived to the Dubrillin headquarters after a series of three hundred and twenty micro jumps. The Agents hauled the man to the medical facility where he was stripped of all weapons and clothing, and dunked rather roughly into a bacta tank. While six agents watched showing no emotion.

 

When the man was hauled out, lead agent Horatio was standing over him. "So, welcome to Black Sun, simply enough...join us or....I could smother you with this here pillow. You see your hands are bound to the bed railings. Make a decision man!"

[AVATAR Kain]

A message arrives addressed to any Vigo or higher, requesting an audience, preferably with Smash Daisaku himself, in order to discuss a business partnership and extended rerelations. A note at the bottom mentioned the talks had been initiated before, but rudely broken off by a particular Silas Onnd, and conveyed the wish to prevent such an occurrence in the future.

[Guest]

The miracle fluid that was "bacta" had worked wonders on Mopreme's physical injuries; the nasty blaster wound to his side had become little more than the faintest whisper of a scar. By now, the hired-blaster had quite the collection of these little wannabe-scars – this hadn't been his first bacta treatment... and certainly wouldn't be his last. Not if he had anything to say about it. In any case - and unfortunately for the suits around him - 'Preme's dip in the bacta-tank had him left with a... let's say: irritable bedside manner. With a ferocious snarl, he had rocketed back to consciousness with little more than murder on his mind – an attitude made worse by the restraints binding him.

 

Make a decision, man!

 

"Why don't you untie me and hand me my blasters?"

[Smash Daisaku]

Smash Daisaku watched excitedly as the acid flew through the air. It met Cassandra’s wretched face, dissolving it almost instantly. The destructive liquid violently crusaded through her skull, wiping out her brains like burned villages between a papal decree and a sought-out religious artifact. A dead skeletal husk collapsed, lifeless forever.

 

The whole ridiculous scene was a crude testament to the jaded restlessness of a wealthy man who could literally buy anything. This was his way.

 

“And with our alchemical technology, we shall have these bones turned to gold.” And it was so.

 

***

 

Minutes later, a transmission was sent back to the Imperial Remnant.

[Vothe Kyrik]

Vothe spent most of his time lurking about on Black Sun grounds. He had been given some administrative duties by Daisaku during his last promotion, but he had promptly set things up through delegation so that only a minimal hand was required in those matters. He was not a businessman, though he had gone undercover as one and had picked up at least a basic understanding of economics and business theory. Mostly, he had determined, it was all about having competent people work for you, then giving them enough power that they could apply their expertise. The result, in this case, was more credits for Black Sun. Even if Daisaku tended to spend them on superfluous and exorbitant luxuries.

 

The Anzat was not like Daisaku. He was an assassin, not a crime lord. He needed his body to be honed and his mind to be tempered. He couldn't afford to live a life of luxury--not because he didn't have the credits, but because to indulge himself in such a way would cause him to lose his edge. The most effective of assassins were ones that had nothing that they did not need to work, and so Vothe deliberately deprived himself of the symbols that his wealth could afford. Black Sun had paid him well.

 

And so the time that he did not spend on business was spent instead on training. He drifted around the Black Sun installation without a single being noting his presence, for never did he stray into their line of sight, and neither did he make a sound. He used some of the local training facilities as well to brush up on his pistol marksmanship and physical training to keep himself at his peak. Over one hundred years old and yet young for his species, he had already achieved a level of physical fitness that no human ever could. Still he pressed onward, strengthening himself further, a being that could live for a thousand years or more.

 

He might not agree with Daisaku's lavish lifestyle, but he would outlive the crime boss by centuries. There would be many more heads of Black Sun. Perhaps, decades or centuries down the line, Vothe would take charge himself and usher in a new era for Black Sun, which had persisted millenia already.

[The Archivist]

Lack sun agent Nath Corun came rocketing out of hyperspace over the stern capital of Black Sun's power. He looked over to his daughter, Now twelve, and smiled. In a few years, she could apply to be a junior agent, heck she could even do that now, but they would see. It would have to be Amiee's decision.

 

After sending the clearance codes, he landed, and walked to the boarding party. "Black Sun Agent 1159-422, back from assignment in the Imperial Remnant. Here to speak to Smash if possible."

 

After being cleared, him and Amiee sat in the waiting room beside his luxurious office.

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

Horatio made a 'tsk tsk tsk' noise and patted the man on his shoulder. "Now now, let's not be rude..."

 

He gestured and a very attractive female human nurse came forward. She bagan to wrap Mopreme's wound in the most sexual way possible. Horatio smiled. "Let the girl do her work, then we will think about getting you those pesky blasters eh?"

[Sheog the Mad]

With a large, happy grin, the mountain of avarice leaned heavily upon his feasting table, feeling through The Force, the utter fear coursing through the small porcine creature within his greasy hand, as the realization that it was, in fact, about to be eaten, had just dawned upon its primitive mind. In Sheog’s opinion, the beast should have realized that fact while it had been marinating in the finest Corzbegan Brandy, or perhaps it had become too intoxicated to dwell upon the feelings of impending doom that its bestial mind was trying to process. It was how he preferred his meat; inebriated, with a side of liquor, and perhaps a touch of Cailey’s Corellian Cream. Leaning back in his throne, the massive Hutt motioned to Hayley to pour him a glass of the brandy to accompany his meal, and activate the holonet station that he enjoyed listening to when he ate.

 

--Click—

 

“What does it say about the college coed Susan Cluke, who goes before a senatorial committee and essentially says that she must be paid to have sex? What does that make her? It makes her a sl*t, right? It makes her a Prostitute!"

 

<>

 

--Click--

 

“There's a port on a western bay, And it serves a hundred ships a day, Lonely sailors pass the time away, And talk about their homes. And there's a girl in this harbour town, And she works layin' whiskey down, They say "Brandy, fetch another round" She serves them whiskey and wine...”

 

<>

 

With great gusto, Sheog slammed the wee smashed piggy into his gullet and washed it down with a goblet of brandy mixed with Corellian Cream. The enormous Hutt swayed to the music, humming along, quite out of tune, letting the music’s lyrics inspire his alcoholic nature.

 

“The sailors say, "Brandy, you're a fine girl, what a fine wife you would be!”

 

A sudden crackle of electricity cut out the sound of the music, right during its chorus, and caused Sheog to turn towards the cockpit. One of the servants had tripped over a precariously placed electrical extension cord, yanking it out of its socket, and bringing the song to an abrupt end, as he crashed headfirst down a flight of stairs. The master of gluttony sighed, and pushed himself away from the feasting table, and made his way to where the slave had fallen. From his view, the clumsy Rodian was quite dead, having landed in an oddly convenient pool Fluoroantimonic acid, and was in the process of dissolving, very quickly.

 

The hyperspace exiting alert system’s incessant beeping caused him to tear his glowing, crimson eyes from the liquefying Rodian. They were about to come out above Dubrillion, the heartland of Black Sun, with whom the Dark Lord wished to have an alliance. Sheog had worked with the syndicate before, and enjoyed their chaotic style. Smash Diasaku’s opulence was the envy of the Hutt underworld. With a flick of The Force, Sheog brought The Cake is a Lie out of hyperspace above the Criminal Planet. Opening up a comlink, the Hutt broadcasted his intentions, as Hayley brought forth his gift for them, a small droid, taken from the body of one of his kills.

 

<>

[Delta73]

"I want two phalanx missile batteries at our forward perimeter, both to cover the main entry way. Ser Jorah, lead an expedition to Dark Sun Station, and give me a full report.Ser Malfa see about a report from the remaining expeditionary forces to Dathomir, I want the wounded cared for, I would like Ser Knight Simone on her feet ASAP. Agent Halfin...?"

 

"Yes Vigo Delta?"

 

"You said that I had a visitor?"

 

"Yes sir, a Hutt, by the name of Sheog."

 

"Ahh, I will see him imminently."

 

Delta was straight out of one of the many cloning chambers stationed on the criminal world of Dubrillion. He was now dressed in a black tunic, with a simple old style DL-44 upon his hip. It hailed back to a more civilized time. He walked, not first to see the Hutt Lord, but to a smaller rectory, stained glass adjusted the normal sun light to fractals of the visible light spectrum. He walked through red, blue, purple, green, and red again, until he reached the centre. There stood three cribs.

 

He crossed himself and took another step forward. The four honour guards stationed around the cribs knelt, as Delta reached the side of them. Balian and Geoffry slept silently under the many coloured light. The other...the girl. He could not remember her name, she sat glaring at him, brown eyes almost hidden by rough brown curls. Disturbing, "So what should we call you darling? I made an oath to all you three, not your traitorous mother...." His blond eyebrow twitched slightly. "I will not raise you in darkness. Simone!?"

 

The young agent stepped forth, wrapped still in bandages, even after the many weeks since Dathomir.

 

"Tell Lord Sheog I will be meeting him here."

[Sheog the Mad]

The massive Hutt entered the rectory, wearing his finest suit, of the deepest black with a tie of bright red, and a tophat reaching at least a meter above his grimy head. With great gusto, he reached out with The Force, and connected to his surroundings, feeling familiar presences about him. One he knew to be the Vigo of Black Sun, and the others he had felt only once before, when he had been Dark Lord of the Sith, back on the temple at Coruscant. He had made amulets for the three, but he doubted the mother had ever passed them on. If he ever saw her again, she would be swiftly executed, and served to the Gand as an appetizer, before the main course of the rest of her clan. They felt to be at peace, for which Sheog was happy. Children were innocent, and should never be raised as those on Dathomire were. Innocence was to be kept, never spoiled by bad mothering.

 

Sweeping from his knapsack a small blanket and a rattle made from the bones of the extinct Gungan race, he placed them on a nearby changing table, and pushed himself over to the oddly familiar man, with a pistol strapped to his hip. He could have sworn he had seen him somewhere before, during the Clone Wars. He smiled at the young babe sitting in her crib, and made a funny face, to which, unfortunately, she did not laugh. The Lord of Gluttony sighed and placed a heavy hand, gingerly upon the man’s shoulder, withdrawing a small device from his side, holding it aloft.

 

<>

[Delta73]

<>

 

Delta held the object gingerly. "Is this what I think it is? Well happy day to us then, I trust it was ripped from some dead wookiee's skull? Goodness, out of the Sith in the Galaxy, I like you the best. Hell we could be brothers."

 

Delta stared off into space awkwardly.

 

"Ahh yes, the arrangements....Lets see, I assume you know we require an ungodly amount of credits to get boots on the ground. We are that inefficient, people liberally skim off the top until there is nothing to pay the soldiers with. But that is how it is in a criminal organization. We could of course also use help with another small problem. You see our business operations on Coruscant have been interrupted. And according to the security cameras, it was one Uriel Stonedog. I trust I can secure his head on my desk? There are of course a few things I could use. But those can be save for later. Now is there anything else you need or want out of this alliance?"

[Sheog the Mad]

The Sith Hutt smiled broadly at the criminal’s proposal and nodded slowly.

 

<>

 

The large Hutt burped loudly, waking the sleeping babies, who began to wail incessantly, and quickly made his leave, propelling himself with The Force like a morbidly overweight superman towards and through the doorway, back to his ship. Entering it, he let Hayley set in the course for the newest stronghold of the Sith Empire, centred around the Maw, with several microjumps programmed in.

 

[Delta73]

Delta sighed loudly as the children were awakened by the Hutt. ""Agent, Corun...get your ass in here and deal with these children. I am sure Aimee would love some company as I head off planet."

 

As Corun moved in, Delta saluted the honour guard, and summoned his remaining captains. "Simone, Jackson, and you other two. Come with me. We head to broker with the heads of law enforcement. Who knows, I have surely payed my taxes, so I don't think they have anything on me this time."

 

The Uriel IX departed Black Sun space, as the remaining fighter squadrons were fueled and prepared.

[Montjoy]

...He reeks of filth... So many weeks of hunting...

 

With a flick of a nimble finger, Reaper sent another soul into afterlife, like a stone dropped into a rushing river, and quickly forgotten. With feral audacity, the shadowed form stepped into to the light, revealing tresses of deep violet, tied into a loose Balmorran Braid, draped down armor of matte-black. Behind her, several other cloaked figures in similar armor fell into the alley’s shadowed edges. Reaper smiled sadly and stepped to the crumpled form of the Rodian, observing the perfect, charred, credit-sized hole in his forehead, from which smoke was still curling, before being whisked away by the turbulence created by the traffic overhead.

 

A drunken belch caught her attention, and in response, she raised her blackened Westar-34, and the inebriated human paused, mid-stumble, contemplating the icy, dallorian-alloy barrel, grinding into the tip of his nose. With a voice as cold as the winds of Hoth, Reaper spoke quietly, just loud enough to cut through the fog of intoxication.

 

“This is a crime scene, and the location of the apprehension and execution of Voltrail Lech, serial rapist and murderer.”

 

“I-I... Who the f-”

 

“My name is special agent McBain, of The Levant Combine, and the two agents that are aiming battle-rifles at your chest and legs, are agents Michelle Fieldgrey, and Leeroy Gibbs. I would recommend... Stepping back...”

 

Without another word, the man turned on his heal and disappeared back down the alley, smelling of refuse, and frightened out of his mind. Reaper rolled her eyes, and tagged the body for pickup, before stepping back into the shadows, to await the arrival of Lech’s contact and broker, Jer LaTrail, a ranking member of Dubrillion’s underworld, and Black Sun. It was all part of the contract which Black Sun was paying her for, to remove evident corruption from their ranks, for the sake of their galactic identity.

 

...All for a day’s paycheck...

 

“Lech... You there?”

 

Reaper turned slowly, and stepped out into the reflected light of the alleyway, watching the man, whom she identified to be LaTrail, as he spotted the crumbled body of his associate. The expression of horror doubled as he caught sight of the armoured Anzati girl, aiming a blaster pistol at his cranium. His chubby hands shot upwards, towards the sky, and a small suitcase and packet of deathsticks fell forgotten to the polluted ground. Gibbs and Fieldgrey aimed their E-11s at his chest from the gloom, as Reaper stepped forward once more, and spoke.

 

“LaTrail... On the orders of Vigo, codenamed Delta, The Levant Combine has been given the... Flexibility... To enforce galactic justice upon Dubrillion. Your name came up in an investigation, and your arrival here has proved your guilt.”

 

“B-b-but...”

 

“You have no say in the matter... The Levant Combine finds you guilty of aiding, abetting, and supplying the serial murderer and rapist, Voltrail Lech. The punishment is... Death.”

 

With a flash, two crimson bolts sped past her armored shoulders and picked the chubby man from his feet and deposited him several meters away, a burning, lifeless husk of what had formally been. Reaper opened up her encrypted comlink, and sent off a transmission through the secure uplink, to Coruscant.

[Beth Andromina]

A shortform communication packet arrives for the agents of the The Levant Combine from their sister organization, Celestial Construction Limited.

[Delta73]

The Uriel starfighter came screaming into oblivion above the great bastion of hate and wealth. He disembarked, and walking the golden halls, made his way to Smash's office.

 

Bowing, he presented a state gift to his lord of a white pony painfully and unethically encrusted with a thousand large gems.

[Smash Daisaku]

“Welcome back, my friend,” said Smash Daisaku, to his honorable killer. I trust that your pursuits led you to glorious and fulfilling kills.” He closed a book that lay open on his expensive desk. “I’ve been reading a story about a very foolish, yet partially persuasive, Trinitarian religion. It’s a good lesson in the profane, and by that I mean stealing powers from the heart of a dead god only to lift one’s triune self up as a poet, mage, or outstanding lady. It only leads to blight, a reincarnated Hortator’s revenge, and a suspended meteorite crashing into a major religious center. We can’t have that. So, I suppose the lesson is that one must purchase power through wealth. Despite my attempts in the past, building religions are sort of a waste of time. They’re amusing as hell, sure, but they’re just not worth it. Not in this format, anyway. We need to keep making money, shooting our enemies, spreading lies, and working from the shadows with knives and such. Miters and crosiers and chalices and holy water sprinklers and sacred fonts are for the weak. Weapons and cash and gadgets and dangerous women. That’s our game. So, what have you to report, good friend? How have you brought glory to the Black Sun?”

 

Smash waited patiently.

[Delta73]

Delta paused and considered, "I have been arraigning the new Starship construction yards to begin to rebuild the fleet. I have also been designing a respectful pact with the Jedi so that I may spread our more legitimate business. Though I have not stopped our other business as well. I am working on exploiting the natural resources and populations of a thousand worlds."

 

His comm link Beeped annoyingly.

 

"Good ser, that is one of my contacts, I must depart immanently." He bowed and gestured for the new shipment of slave girls to come in and do their new master's bidding.

 

The Uriel Blasted off towards Bespin in a cloud of environmentally destroying greenhouse gasses.

[Smash Daisaku]

“Legitimate business?” Smash Daisaku honestly struggled to understand why anyone would waste their time not breaking rules or bending regulations. Profits were drastically higher when laws were set aside in the name of fierce competition and amassing personal wealth. Black Sun was built upon criminal activity for a reason. It paid.

 

Smash peered at some letters on his desk. Perhaps it was time to expand business. He could sense a recession coming on. That was the last thing he needed, with his money being devalued because of the frivolous spending of politicians. He would soon have to journey to Coruscant soon, in order to boast of a freer form of capitalism, with less government interference. “I think this government needs an overhaul,” he announced to whoever was listening.

 

Hating the environment, the rich Black Sun leader crumpled up a piece of paper and cast it into sea.

[Silas]

Jacen was quite glad that his ruse had worked. The man who had entered his office, Kain or something to the effect, had damn near bored him to death before finishing his first sentence. He lit a cigarette and pondered how many "businessmen" had approached him in search of his hard-stolen money. He was looking for something more, something truly malicious to invest in. The galaxy had been calm for far too long.

 

Jacen ripped the water pipe once more before standing and heading to the liquor cabinet in the corner. He poured himself a healthy amount of his favorite amber-colored liquid downed it in a single gulp, relishing the fire that it lit in his loins. He took a final drag off of his cigarette and, hating the environment more than Smash Daisaku, flicked the burning cylinder out of his open window while chuckling at the idea of it landing on some unsuspecting sap's head on the levels below.

[Qaela]

The Sith shuttle reverted from hyperspace out over what the knowledgeable considered the center of robber baron capitalism and corporate corruption in the Galaxy. Even sitting in the cockpit of the shuttle, Qaela could sense the sheer selfishness and abject disdain for the unwashed poor that simply pulsated from the planet like a delightfully soothing serenade that made her feel welcome. Evil was afoot here and it felt good.

 

"Transmit our identification," she told the pilot. "And request an audience with Mr. Daisaku at his earliest convenience."

 

Since leaving Bespin, she had spent a good portion of her time alone trying to bring herself back into balance. The bleeding had stopped, but her irises were still enlarged and black making it look like she had almost no whites left in her eyes. It was not exactly a look she would have preferred, but with all of the hatred flowing through her, cosmetic issues were the least of her problems. She knew well what would happen if she truly lost control again. Every time she did, the repercussions were worse and took longer to recover from. The last time, when she had killed Ca'Aran, it had taken her days to regain her strength. Even so, she felt the raw power that her hatred gave her. It was glorious, but she didn't trust it.

 

They waited in silence for Black Sun's reply.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Lucifer had spent much of the journey meditating deep within the force, attempting to find his place in the darkness he so embraced. Although he was a sith he had slipped of late allowing himself to come to weakness. It was what he hoped to change, to challenge the fates and rise back to greatness. As the Sith shuttle reverted from hyperspace he made his way to the cockpit and embraced the feelings of depravity and horror coming from below. It was in a word...beautiful. here was where the darkside thrived in the abject poverty and despair of the poor and the corruption of the rich and powerful. Here a simple criminal could become a god and man's most basic desires could be indulged.

 

The kiffar stood cross-armed looking outward through the view-port as he spoke to Qaela.

 

"So what's our play."

 

He noticed how her eyes seemed black and that she had seemed to have taken to the dark path with alot more vigour. Or at least that was as far as he could gather so far from what he felt from her. He could see only good from this if she kept it up, Furion would be most pleased. Although he noted before how when she used the darkside strange blotch like marks appeared upon her, it would be something he would discuss with her after all of this. Perhaps he could offer a way to fix it if she was willing to accept such help.

[Smash Daisaku]

An exciting and very expensive machine capable of producing high-resolution holograms did just that. As with many Black Sun things that were adapted in an obnoxious way, the device was grafted to another. A spider-droid displayed a nearly perfect image of the mighty Prince of the Black Sun, Smash Daisaku. It managed to capture his magnificence, his greatness, and the fact that he had more money than any figure in history.

 

“What is it?” the wealthy man’s visage asked. “I understand you’ve expressed interest in communicating with me?”

[Qaela]

It was the first time she had actually met the Dark Prince of Black Sun, even if it was via hologram. She had to admit that, even at a distance, he cut an imposing figure. She couldn't help but wonder what sort of awe inspiring terror he could have been had he been born with the ability to touch the Force.

 

"I am Qaela," she said with a quick bow of her head. "I was sent as an emissary of Dark Lord Furion of the Sith to negotiate an alliance of common cause between Black Sun and the Sith Order. I attempted to speak with your vigo, Delta Seventy-Three, on Bespin, but he has decided to reform Black Sun and do away with its traditional criminal activity and all around evilness that has made you and your empire wealthy and powerful beyond imagining. He has entered an alliance with the Jedi and very well could be planning on working with them to bring an end to Black Sun's darker elements, including you, great and mighty Dark Prince Daisaku.

 

"The Sith desire to renew their old alliances with Black Sun. I was foolish to go to one of your minions—as traitorous as he may be—rather than going straight to you. I am correcting that mistake and alerting you to a threat in your own ranks as a sign of goodwill. Would you be willing to negotiate an alliance with the Sith Order so that once again, both of us could become stronger and richer?"

[Smash Daisaku]

Cautiously Smash Daisaku considered the young woman’s words. Usually he refused meetings except on his own ridiculous terms, but it was impossible to kill a hologram and luckily the meeting proved worthwhile.

 

“Well, it is my every intention to uphold the long-held pledge of peace between our mutual factions. Fear not my intentions.” The rich criminal paused. “Now about my agent Delta Seventy-Three – do you really think so?”

 

Smash tried to suppress the very thought of such an undesirable possibility, yet chill ice formed at the base of his spine. Thoughts he had forced himself to dismiss came oozing back. There were unsettling implications in this Qaela’s claims, ramifications he did not want to consider, but the thing that shoved itself to the front of his mind was the possibility that the some clone might really want to unmake so much precious work.

 

“And have you discerned any possible motivations for his sudden change of vision?”

 

Without pulling attention from the young emissary, Smash produced a small datapad/comlink from within his robe. He slid the small device open, revealing a tiny keyboard. He immediately sent one of his operatives a text communication.

[Qaela]

At least he didn't summarily dismiss her. She had not expected a man as cautious as he to simply take her at her word. Qaela also knew that if she lied, even in the smallest matter, it was very likely that he, with all of his near infinite resources, would find out and the results could be disastrous.

 

"I have fought at his side before and spent near a year with him. For a time, we were lovers. I was part of the Black Sun attack on the Jedi forces at Gala as well. After that, we went to Dathomir, my homeplanet. There, we engaged a group of natives during which I lost my mind to Force induced blood lust. During that rage, I struck him down and killed him.

 

"Even before that, though, I could sense a hesitation in him. His sense of honor, as twisted as it could sometimes be, was constantly at conflict with the darker nature of his tasks in Black Sun. I fear that my killing him finally caused him to snap. As a Force sensitive, he had been undergoing training as a Sith by Lord Ar-Pharazon, but now I believe he desires to abandon the darkness and join the Jedi so that they may somehow give him absolution for all the killing and evil he has done. He has turned against me and those Sith who fought with him in favor of the Jedi and their self righteous ways.

 

"I do not know how long he has been planning this, but he has surrounded himself with incredibly loyal individuals. Their loyalty is such that most, if not all, of them on Bespin will follow him no matter what, even if he decides to rebel against Your Magnificence and join the Jedi. I do not need to tell you how devastating such a move could be considering all the information he has on you and your operations. With his assets, the Jedi will be ever more dangerous and will easily destroy the Sith. Once they finish the Sith off, the Jedi, as is true of their meddling ways, will want to rectify the evils that Black Sun represents and will turn their efforts upon you. Without the Sith, you will be facing far too many foes and even if you do manage to survive, you will lose a great deal of money and manpower fending them off."