Chapter 11 – A Slice of Nar Shaddaai Life

Jefand Ange was a talk twig of a man. His lips were twisted into a perpetual scowl and wrinkles around brown eyes. Old and bitter. Like an abandoned cup of black caf. He was dressed in the traditional black and grey, red-sashed uniforms of an Admiral, auburn hair peeking out from beneath his sleek officer's cap.

Medals hung from his breast and, with a pang of irritation, Louise realized she had no idea what any of them meant.

"My lord," Ange began with a gracious bow, standing before his desk proudly and welcoming. "It is an honour to meet you, especially after all the help you've given us on this planet of degeneracy."

Louise returned the greeting with a polite incline of her head. "The honour is all mine, Admiral," she replied automatically. "Might I ask why you've summoned me?"

She gestured broadly at the Admiral's office. Quite grand, considering how cramped the rest of Outpost Drazaal was. Spacious, with enough room for the various trophies and décor hung about and presented in glass displays. Hunting trophies, they looked like. Heads and horns and pelts of beasts presumably hunted by the man himself. Most, she didn't 'recognize, but it was clear whatever they were must've put up quite the fight.

Father would've liked him, she thought, absently. Though, it is a waste of space… how many offices could've been built in its stead?

"Flame business, unfortunately." His scowled deepened. "We've managed to decode Agent Metis' reports. Apparently, I'm to be assassinated tomorrow."

Despite her surprise, Louise kept a neutral expression. It wasn't even the reveal that surprised her. It was how blasé he was in the face of his own assassination. "And, if I may… what does this have to do with me?"

At this Ange smiled—the first expression that wasn't sour scowling—and walked around his desk to take a seat. "Simple. I'll be meeting with a small delegation of Hutts tomorrow. Kadogga, Rezzeks, and Godoba. Together, the three collectively own most the sectors the Empire has influence in. Godoba, in fact, owns the spaceport your ship is currently docked with."

Louise nodded, though was unsure how this all had to do with her or the Flame.

Ange leaned forward on his desk, elbows propped up and fingers intertwined. "To summarise, this meeting is to address the growing anti-Imperial sentiments growing on this Emperor-forsaken moon. In this, you'll be serving both as a representative and as my personal bodyguard for when the Flame makes his move."

"Representative?"

"Having both sides of the Empire, the Sith and the Imperial, I feel, would give our argument more weight," he said. "Perhaps end the meeting with a more favourable outcome."

"Is there no one better, sir?" Louise asked, genuinely confused and honestly wanting no part in such politics. "I am just a lowly apprentice, after all."

"Unfortunately not," Ange ceded. "But even if Lord Zavrasha was available, Lord Rathari or even Lord Sharoleigh, I would still extend the invitation. We only know about this plot thanks to you, after all. Plus, it in't like you haven't already proven yourself to the Empire already. The Grand Moff speaks quite highly of you."

Behind her mask of neutrality, Louise recoiled. Months had passed since the Black Talon. How did Admiral Ange heard of that? Shouldn't it be classified?

She dismissed the thought. "I… understand, sir. When and where will this meeting take place?"

"Tomorrow. Fourteen-hundred hours Promenade time," Ange supplied. "You'll meet me here at twelve-hundred hours and we'll be taking an armoured skycar to the location. Any other questions?"

Louise considered his words for a moment. She guessed his answers were adequate, but… "The Flame left their plans on Agent Metis' body. How can we be so sure this isn't a trap?"

"There'll be a fight tomorrow, my lord. That, I know for certain. I do not plan on hiding like some coward. If the Flame wants me dead, they'll have to work for it. Aside from that, I'm making preparations across the Imperial controlled territories to make sure they're prepared for anything." He huffed then added. "No that they aren't already what with the Eagle breathing down our damned necks…"

It was reckless, but it was nice to know he was taking the situation seriously. Comforting. "Understood. That all, sir?"

"Of course, my lord," he said with an incline of his head. "You're free to go."

"Thank you, sir."

With nothing else to do, Louise returned to her ship but without the spring in her step she left with.

The Flame… by the Immortal Gods of the Sith. If she knew what Admiral Ange wanted, she'd have stayed in bed at least another hour.

Of course, for a meeting that short, he could've at least called instead. Gods, she thought she'd have been getting a medal or something. A reward for her service. But no! Instead I get roped into bodyguard duty, she thought, only a bit sulkily. Maybe, at least, I can just crawl back into bed for another hour or so.

As it turned out, no, she couldn't. Not really. Not yet.

Back aboard the L'Inquisiteur, she found herself at a loss. Too awake to sleep. Too tired to do anything else. And that was the thing. She wanted to do something. Needed to do something. But, what? She had no idea.

She looked around the ship. The lounge was empty aside from herself. Nobody sat in the acceleration chairs, playing any number of games on the holotable. No conference was being held, and the main holoprojector was silent. Dead. She couldn't hear anything inside her ship, aside from the hum of electricity in the walls. Of course, she could sense Khem in his bedroom. Irritation wafted off him like an unpleasant odour. Twovee was… somewhere doing something. And Nihl was, well… she didn't know.

Well, that's worrying. Quite a bit, actually.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, she started walking. First, to the cargo hold—the delusional little droid's favourite haunt. But a quick check turned up nothing aside from the carefully organized supplies.

Louise scowled and left the room.

Next, the engines.

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing one of the more curious parts of the ship. There was just something about it, the engines. Beyond magic, and living mounts, flight was an impossibility. Yet, here in the Empire—and the wider galaxy at large—technology could launch ships at speeds faster than any dragon. And that wasn't even talking about the possibilities of hyperspace.

However, wonders of modern technology wasn't on her mind when she entered the starboard engine room. Nor was it when she saw inside.

"By the karking pits of Chaos, what are you two doing!?"

Twovee and Nihl were in a standoff, blasters brandished at one another.

"Master!" Twovee cried, his snivelling tone instantly graiting on her nerves. "I—I found the stowaway fiddling with the engines! Fiddling, master. Fiddling!"

The delusional utility droid squeaked indignalty. Nihl = Maintenance!

Her head started to ache. The Tristian Academy. The Sith Academy. She had been taught at the most prestigious institutes in the galaxy. Yet, none of it had ever prepared herself for such insanity! "What—what was it—Nihl—doing?"

"Fiddling!" Twovee repeated. "Poking and prodding the engine hyperdrive and the engines!"

Louise turned to the small droid who was quick to defend itself. Nihl + Engine = Running diagnostics / Results = Engines running suboptimal

"Diagnostics?" she asked, briefly looking back to Twovee. Well, that wasn't entirely malignant. But still. She didn't trust the droid to tell the truth. "Twovee, can you double check? Make sure it's telling me the truth?"

"Yes, master. Right away, master!" Twovee replied, waddling over to the command console, blaster still levied at Nihl. With its free hand, it began typing and scanning with record speed.

For all that some hated droids, nobody could deny that they weren't effective.

"Anything out of the ordinary?" Louise asked after an uncomfortably long pause.

"No, master…" He sounded disappointed. "But—but—but what if it did do something? What if—what if it wanted to lull us into a false sense of security and then sabotage our engines so that the next time we go into hyperspace we explode? What if he plans on boobytrapping the engines so the next time I try and run a routine diagnostic I get electrocuted?" He paused as if taking a breath, then added, quieter, "I don't like getting electrocuted…"

Nihl look back and forth between Louise and Twovee, and somehow—despite having no shoulders—it managed to shrug.

Suppressing a growl, Louise shook her head. "You can double-check everything it does if you want," she said. "But please, stop pulling out the blasters. Especially on my ship. Please?"

"Master, you cannot be serious about keeping this—this bucket of rusted scrap around!"

2V-R8 + Insult = disassemble protocol

"How dare you! Master, are you hearing this?"

Nihl = Impudent / 2V-R8 = Vigilant / Nihl = Threatening

"Oh, gods, please stop!" Louise demanded. "Both of you! Listen, I don't trust Nihl in the slightest—"

Sith = Wise

"You're not helping!" Lightning snapped and crackled from finger to finger, and Louise had to stop herself from lashing out at the two. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. "As I was saying… I don't trust it in the slightest, but unless it has a death wish it won't blow us up." Hopefully. "If it wants to help, let it help. Just… gods, please stop this insane bickering!"

"Yes, master…" Twovee replied, resigned. It lowered its gun and Nihl followed suit.

Louise rolled her eyes and decided to take her leave, before the artillery got involved.

Gods, these droids are going to be the death of me! she thought. Did she really want Nihl on her ship? No, not really. She'd wash her hands of it if she could. But she couldn't. The Imperial Reclamation Service wouldn't mind dissecting the little droidd, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to hand it over just yet. And it wasn't like it had done anything to her.

Well, yes, there was that entire situation on Dxun. But it wasn't like it had actively tried to kill her, unlike someone. Khem.

Speaking of Khem, she supposed she should check up on him. Maybe he'd like the company. She certainly would. So, down the hall and past the lounge, she entered Khem's bedroom.

It wasn't really a bedroom, of course. Not really. Rather, it was a bunk fit for three.

Two beds sat on either side of the entry, a third up back. All pristinely made. Between the third and the bed t other right was a private little nook where the personal holoterminal sat, currently occupied.

Despite herself, Louise couldn't help but smirk. After all, it wasn't every day she saw the hulking form of her Dashade companion couped up in a corner, hunched over in a chair obviously made for people far smaller than him. His arms were bent, close to his chest, claws typing one key at a time. All the while, he grumbled under his breath.

He hadn't noticed her.

"Khem, you alright?" she asked, announcing her presence.

"Blasted machine!" If the menace in his voice was any indicator, he wasn't. "How difficult is it to answer my inquiries!?"

An eyebrow rose and Louise drew closer. "Er… what's going on?"

Khem rubbed his face, looking a bit tired and extremely annoyed. "I'm trying to navigate this accursed 'HoloNet,' but it does not answer that which I ask!"

Arriving at the small desk, Louise found the screen displaying some kind of search page concerning the Dashade species, or something. She didn't really know. "I'd ask if you wanted help, but I honestly have no idea how to use the damned thing either."

"Do not mock the cruelty of my fate, little Sith…" he snorted, leaning against the desk.

Louise scoffed. "You're brooding again!"

She didn't mean for it to come out singsong. But it did. And it took all her self-control not to burst out laughing at his withering glare.

"Brooding? Brooding!?" he repeated. He threw his head back in a laugh. "Brooding is what nesting beasts do. I do not brood."

He sounded offended, and Louise smiled. "Then what are you trying to do?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip.

"Fretting, moping, agonizing…" he replied, speaking as if the words tasted foul. "Ever since we discussed Veshikk Urk, I've been curious as to what became of him. I'm trying to delve through the archives, but it is impossible!" He sighed. "I fear that Mistress Death must have claimed him."

Louise didn't know what to say to that. Consoling people wasn't something she was used to, and so all she could say was, "Oh, that's horrible…"

Khem laughed again, true and hearty. "I do not need your condolences. I hated Veshikk with a passion! But… a rival he may have been, we were brothers in arms, both in service to our Mistress and to the Sith we followed. I just desire to know for certain."

"Oh." Well, Louise could partially understand that. Kind of. "Well, um… was he put into one of those stasis-y thingies I found you in?"

"Perhaps," he grumbled. "But if he did, it was long after my time…"

Louise nodded, then hummed. "Lyira showed me some things before we left," she said and gestured for Khem to stand. "Maybe I could—"

"No, little Sith." He stopped her with his hand. "It is a labour I must undertake myself."

Louise hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, little Sith."

"Alright then," she said. "But if you need me, I'm here to talk. I know what it's like to be ripped away from everything you knew."

Khem looked up at her, eyeing her strangely. "Someday, you should tell me your tale."

"Someday," she said, and made to leave. But before she did, she stopped herself. "Oh, before I forget!"

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, we'll be attending a meeting with Admiral Ange tomorrow." Khem rolled his eyes, obviously unimpressed with the news. Give it a second, you hulking mass of flesh, she thought, bemused. "Apparently, the Flame will be making a 'surprise' visit, and Ange wishes us to help deal with any unwanted intrusions."

Now, that got Khem's attention.

"We will be killing they who cheated my Mistress Death, twice?" he asked, calmly, curiously.

"Yes. Yes we will."

"Finally!" he cried, "Something to do!"

"I thought you might like that. Make sure to dress your best. We do want to make a good impression."

"As you command, little Sith."

Louise smiled. He looked like he needed a break. Some stress relief. She didn't want to fight tomorrow. She especially didn't want to put her life on the line any more than she needed to. But at least she had Khem and at least he'd have fun. "Well, I'll leave you to it."

Returning to the lounge, Louise found herself stumped.

What to do… What to do…

There wasn't anything to do.

Khem was busy brooding, and she didn't want to deal with the droids after their little spat. She could check in with Adas, perhaps get started on the next chapter of her book. But, well… she just didn't feel quite up for that.

As amazing as it was having someone so ancient—so powerful, so revered—sitting on her wardrobe, after hours upon hours of talking, it grew a bit stale.

But she wanted to do something. All the options were just… inadequate.

Absently, she checked her datapad, hoping it'd give her something to do.

Nothing.

No holomail.

No notifications.

No nothing.

She sighed, eyes flickering to the upper left corner of the screen. It was early noon. Nearly lunch.

Her stomach growled. "Hmm."

Well, there was that Imperial squadron Director Ban-el gave her. And she did need to check up on Rylee and Destris…

Oh, kark it!

"Twovee!" she screamed, too lazy to try and find the droid. She adjusted her outfit—plain clothes, pale blue shirt and black pants. "Don't bother making lunch for me! I'm heading out again!"

Deep within the ship, Twovee replied. "Yes, master!"

"And don't start any fights. And contact me if something comes up!" she continued, making her way towards the landing ramp.

"Of course, master."

…

She had said it before but Louise felt it needed saying again: Nar Shaddaa was ludicrously massive. Kaas City was big, but the Smuggler's Moon? Well, there was nothing but city, and the surface was just the beginning.

Below her feet was duracrete pavement. But below that? Perhaps a metal foundation? However, that was only one of hundreds, perhaps thousands of layers that continued down, down, down, until it reached bedrock. She could be standing above a home and she wouldn't know it. A grave or hospital as well. Walk another ten minutes north and she could pass entire factories, schools, and—most likely—drug dens of all sorts.

To say Louise was curious was saying that the sun was hot (and by the Emperor, simply thinking about sun left her shaking in existential dread). So what if she ended up wandering the streets a bit longer than she should? And just in case things went south, she always had her blaster on her hip and her dagger in her boot.

Of course, it didn't take long for her to trip head-first into trouble.

Turning the corner, she felt first, saw second, a man turning just as she did. Bodies clashed, the man squeaked, and instincts screamed. Louise recoiled back, hands ripping her blaster from its holster. But before any triggers were pulled or anything of the sort, she stopped herself. Forced herself to consider the situation.

He was human. Dark of skin with long braided hair. He wore a green tunic and grey pants. And he seemed as surprised as she was. A hand grabbed at a device covering his ears, pulling it away. "Watch where you're going!" he sneered.

Her hand tightened on her blaster and she scowled.

I should kill him, she thought, and honestly, she wanted to. Would it be worth the trouble? No, but it would certainly make her feel better.

He put the device back over his ears without a second thought, and pushed past, continuing on his merry way.

Headphones. He was wearing headphones. She had seen them often on Korriban. Students looking for some kind of distraction during long periods of study or essay writing. They'd wear them and listen to… well, whatever. Music. Audiobytes. Even the odd holocast. Apparently, it helped pass the time.

Hmm… passing the time…

Louise shrugged and waved her hand, and the rude pedestrian suddenly found himself slammed with a satisfying thump! and a faint crack! She smirked and left off to find some kind of electronics dealer.

Peckishness was temporary. Boredom was forever.

It didn't take long. There were many stores littered about, and it wasn't like she was looking for some five-star establishment.

It was a small store. One story tall, but long. Shelves lined the walls and display tables filled in between. Here and there, portable computers, flashlights, laser pointers, watches, datapads, and more all sat cluttered about. It was orderly, in its own haphazard way.

A bit overwhelming, to be honest.

A strange alien manned the counter. A Troydarian, Louise thought they were called. Humanoid. Two arms and legs. It was small, too, half the size of a human. Fleshy grey wings poked out its back and its skin was greyish with brown patches here and there. It smiled widely, pointed fangs in its mouth bared for all to see.

"Ah, hello there!" they said, voice high pitched and pleasant. "I'm Pirid and this is my shop. I hope you find something you like!"

A twi'lek family, a man, woman, and child—blue, red, and turquoise respectively—briefly looked up from their browsing down the aisle. Louise ignored them.

"Yes… I was looking for…" She hesitated. She knew about headphones. But, she didn't know how they worked. Did she need to plug them into her datapad? Or was there something else she needed? "Well, I'm looking to listen to music on the go. Is there anything you could recommend?"

"Mmm, yes," Pirid said, starching their chin. "I know exactly what you're looking for. Come, come! Follow me."

They flew over the counter, their tiny wings fluttering madly like a bee. Louise followed them down the aisles of displays until they stopped nearby to the Twi'lek family. Absently, she couldn't help but eavesdrop.

The mother's hand's move as she spoke, making complex gestures. The child, a little girl, replied, making similar gestures as she spoke. Yet, unlike her mum, it was monotonous and laboured, without the usual inflections to be heard. Despite that, it was clear, the little girl was excited.

It was her birthday. The little girl's, that is.

"So, here we are!" the Troydarian said, bringing her back to task at hand. "Here we got a few models. Now, I won't burn around the belt. Most are the same. Same storage capacity. Same battery life. Same everything, except for looks. But there are some differences here and there. If you want a fancy little thing at your hip, I'd go for Solaris Electronics, but if you want something that'll last you through thick and thin? Rekken's got that, even if it's as ugly as all the Corellian Hells."

Louise nodded, staring down at the selection of pocket players. The first she noticed was how cheap they were. The most was barely around seventy credits. Cheapest? Twenty-three credits. It was almost a steal, compared to the clothes and armour she had dealt with before.

Silently, she thanked the Emperor for her fortune.

"Hmm… which would you recommend?" she asked. "I don't care for looks, so I'm fine with whatever."

Pirid scratched their chin. "I'd hav'ta throw my lot in with Rekken. Can store upwards of six thousand songs. Good durability. Not so good looks, but it's a small thing."

Louise nodded her head and considered their words. She would be the first to admit she wasn't an expert. So, she guessed there wasn't more to do but accept their advice.

A pair of headphones came soon after. She spent a few more credits on that as it did matter to audio and durability quality. But now, at least, she could listen to some music on the go. All she needed was the music. So, it wasn't like she was going to be listening to anything soon, but it gave her something to do after business today.

She left the small shop, her RekPlayer and headphones in a small little bag, and headed back out into the winding streets of Nar Shaddaa. It was time for lunch.

The further she travelled into the planet, the more things seemed to change. There was a certain aesthetic to most of the towering buildings: unkempt, grey, bland, utilitarian. But at times, there was a break in the monotony. Sprouting, almost unnaturally, were buildings with wildly different designs. It was chaotic. Sandstone, tile, angular, curved, painted, domed, mosaic, spired. Hundreds of thousands of alien species, each with their own culture, tried to make the Vertical City feel just a bit like home.

It was like looking at Friedrich du Uligard's The Children. A beautiful painting that hung in the dining hall of the Tristain Academy, but a mess in the same breath. Eighty-three children—she counted—of every nation played in a park, each with their own unique personalities clashing with their own unique culture. In one corner, a Romalian child chased birds with a stick. A Germanian girl played Am Bam Bi with a friend. Albionese boys fought, a Tristinian girl watching enthralled. Everywhere were completely different people with different skin and dress and home. Chaos, but beautiful chaos.

It was in one of these buildings Louise decided to dine. A restaurant, if her Huttese was to be trusted. A restaurant of Mon Calamari design. Bulbous and round, with nary an angle to be seen.

Inside was an open space, bustling with life. Little island tables sat sprinkled around, most fit for four while others had enough space for six. To the left, was a wall painted like a seafloor. Pale blue lights bathed the room in cool colours. Toilets were tucked away up at the back, and to her right was where the bar, the buffet, and the reception desk sat. Speaking of reception…

"Oh!?" squeaked a voice. It was a Mon Calamari—a short alien who looked like an orange fish, if it had grown arms and legs and could breathe air. They (she had no idea what gender it was) were standing beside a terminal near the door and looking at Louise the least bit surprised. "Ah… Welcome to A Taste of the Sea. Are you hear to eat?"

"Um, yes…" Louise replied. "Though I'm new here, so I wouldn't mind seeing your menu first.'

The Mon Calamari nodded their head and smiled. "That's alright, miss. And don't worry, we do serve aliens as well."

Louise blinked, though kept her expression neutral. Well, that was a first...

It was odd, being referred to as the alien in the room, but she guessed they were right. Briefly casting her eyes across the room, she nary a human to be seen.

"Now," they continued, looking at the terminal screen, "we're a bit full at the moment, but we do have just one more table available…"

Service was quite good, as it turned out. After a few brief minutes, Louise soon found herself sitting off in the far side of the restaurant. A few minutes later, and a waiter came for her order, only to be told to come back after she fully dissected the menu. And what a menu it was. Apparently, it was the day for crab-stuffed creampuffs. Yes… crab-stuffed creampuffs. Live crabs stuffed into a creampuff. "Hmm…"

Louise had tried much during her time away from home, but eating live crabs was probably a bit too adventurous. Instead, she tried something semi-familiar. A fillet of what constituted fish in these parts, and a bowl of fried root stalks. Oh, and some wine. As a treat.

The wait was perhaps a bit longer than she'd have liked, but she had never really been to a restaurant before so she couldn't hold much against them. And it wasn't like she had anywhere to be urgently.

Within time, her food came, leaving Louise to wonder about what she had just ordered.

It was fried, that much she knew, the root and the fish both. A flat fillet of salted crust, not quite brown but close, sat atop a plate of dark blue roots. Cutting the fillet in half, she found the fish inside entirely white with streaks of red like veins.

"Hmm… okay, then…" she said, pushing the food around her plate with her fork.

Moving to the roots, she found them to be almost like carrot but… rubbery. The wine, just like the roots, was blue, if just a bit tinged with green with a strong, sweet aroma. Apparently, it was made of some kind of sea fruit native to the Mon Calamari homeworld.

It was new. It was weird. It was completely alien to her sensibilities, but so what? One of her favourite foods was bloodsoup which, as the name suggested, was made with blood. She might as well try it.

The first taste of fillet was slow and deliberate. Hesitant.

She had no idea what to expect, no idea what it would taste like. She had eaten fish before, but that had been years ago, back home when she still lived with Mother and Father.

This fish was nothing like it. Without the skin, the fish was plain and boring. It was almost shocking how utterly devoid of flavour the fish was. Trying with the skin, though… now that was much better. It was difficult to describe, but the salt and the crunch of the skin seemed to make it taste all the better.

As for the roots? Carrot seemed to be an apt description all around. Though the spice and chalkiness was new. Almost… well, sweet and spicy, like a chalky toffy carrot dashed with chilli but somehow not disgusting in the slightest.

Having only eaten three bites, Louise found herself having to just sit there for a moment, digesting her food in both senses of the word. She was thinking. Thinking about her food. The taste. Trying to sum it up in a single sentence. Yet, the most she could think, the only thing that came to mind, was: Ç'est quoi ce bordel!?

Deciding to taste the wine, she took the glass of turquoise liquid and took a sip to wash it all down. Blueberries. It tasted like blueberries. Louise opened her mouth, then shut it, staring at the liquid queerly.

All in all, Louise wasn't sure if she hated it or loved it. It was just a confusing mess of flavour and texture, and she wasn't sure what to do. So, she did the only thing she could think of doing and continued eating her lunch, hoping she'd discover how she was supposed to feel about it once she was finished.

...

Once lunch was over, she was back on the streets.

Louise still had no idea how to feel about her meal. It was good. She just didn't know what to feel about it. It was a bit spicy with a slightly chalky texture, and it was just so… different. Yet familiar as well. Like a word on the tip of her tongue, like a memory she could only half remember, she felt she should be able to describe it, but couldn't.

Louise sighed and shook her head. It was a pointless line of thought, so she dismissed it. Would she try it again? Yes. Probably. But that was all to say.

Arriving at the nearest port, she took a skycar to the Corellian district.

The trip was short, quick, and without hiccup. Even the trip to Keeling's Listening Outpost was quiet. Everyone kept to themselves, huddled in little groups and throwing paranoid glances over their shoulders. The fear in the air was palpable. But it also meant that she was left alone as civilians were wary of everyone about.

She entered the much too empty bar and passed through the secret entrance. Taking a look around, she found the place buzzing with energy. A stark contrast to the outside world. There was a taste of victory in the air, no matter how small. Something must have happened. Something good. Perhaps something to do with the suspicion and terror that permeated every corner of the district, but here.

And if she needed any more confirmation, the command centre was alive with celebration. Imperial's of every strata surrounded dead holotable, glasses of either champagne or wine in hand and chatting with one another.

"My lord!" It was Officer Keeling, parting the crowd and approaching her. A wide smile cut across his face, and his glass was almost empty. "Welcome back. You've arrived just in time for the festivities!"

Louise raised an eyebrow. "Festivities? I haven't missed another holiday, have I?"

"Today?" he asked. He tapped his chin playfully. "No, but you did miss out on our little party for the Brood Feast on the 26th."

"Oh, by the Emperor! Again?" Louise groaned. Just once, she'd like a holiday. A proper holiday. Not a day off, but a day where she could celebrate with friends. New Years, Lover's Day, Emperor's Day. Chaos, she would love to attend the Gala of the Stars… She had seen the dresses they wore, the elaborate outfits. They were absolutely beautiful.

"If I may, my lord, we still have some champagne available?"

"Sorry, I'm here on business," Louise replied sheepishly.

Keeling shook his head and sighed. "Such is life, I guess," he said, and in an instant, he went from the cheerful partygoer to a refined member of the Imperial military. "What do you need, my lord?"

"A couple of things, really," I need to speak with Rylee and Destris, and I'm curious as to where the Imperial squadron that I was given command of is, exactly."

"Ah, of course, my lord. I'll send word." With that, he turned and pulled aside on of the Imperials to collect the former cultists and, apparently, the squadron under her command. Once the Imperial was off, Keeling returned, satisfied. "They will just be a moment."

"Thank you, Officer Keeling. Though, I'm curious: my squadron is here?"

"Yes, my lord. Director Ban-el assigned them here to wait your instruction."

Louise nodded, not sure why they had opted to do that, but decided it was fairly unimportant. "So, what are we celebrating?"

"Oh?" Keeling smiled. "Well, we've been watching the progress of a coalition of civilians who stood against the Empire for a long time now. You've seen their handiwork yourself what with the attempt on your life last week. Now, recently we were given the go-ahead to enact one of our little operations. Three days ago, their leader had an unfortunate heart attack. That night? Their head splicer was the victim of a fatal mugging. More died two days ago, and only this morning was it discovered that another of their member had overdosed. They've all but dissolved. The people are afraid. And so, we're celebrating!"

Louise's lips pursed. She still had faint scars on her hands after her run-in with the exploding droid. "Good riddance," she said. "I think I'll take that drink now."

"I knew you'd come around, my lord!"

With that, Louise quickly found a glass of champagne in hand and socializing with the Imperial crowd. Her day was discussed, the Bloom Feast as well. One Imperial, a young man with acne, even had a few pictures of the flowers. They was beautiful. The reds and purples and blues blooming in the jungles of Dromund Kaas.

If for only a few days, the planet as lush with colour. A cause for celebration if any. If only she had known about the feast…

Eventually, though, her mingling came to an end.

"It's been awhile, Sith," said Destris, arriving with Rylee and nine others dressed in red fatigues.

"Indeed," Louise replied, a bit disappointed that she couldn't stay longer. Nevertheless, she had work to do and broke from the crowd to join her co-conspirators. She kept the glass of champagne, though, still half full as it was.

The former cultists looked a bit different since she last saw them. Cleaner. Better dressed. Rylee's hair was tied up into a nice braid while Destris seemed to have let his hair grow out, the sides of his head looking a bit poofy. And then there was the Imperials dressed fatigues. Her squadron, probably. Three women, four men, and a ninth who Louise wasn't so sure about.

On their breast were the rank insignia plaques. And fortunately, she knew what they meant. One sergeant, one corporal, two specialists, and five troopers.

The soldiers, noticing her attention on them, straightened. The sergeant—a woman a few years Louise's senior with hair cropped and black, and her eyes a pale blue—took command. "My lord," she said, approaching. "I am Sergeant Syrash Vundan and—"

That was as far as she got when Louise cut her off. "Keeling?" she asked, drawing the man's attention. "there wouldn't happen to be a private chamber where me and mine could discuss things in private?"

"Of course, my lord." He snapped his fingers and gestured to the Imperial he had ordered before. "Ensign, escort her to the conference room, then back to your station!"

"Yes, sir!" replied the exasperated Imperial before turning to Louise. "If you'll follow me, my lord."

Louise smiled. "Excellent." And then added to her eleven companions. "Let's go somewhere where we can talk."

"Yes, ma'am," chorused the Imperials. The former cultists stayed silent but obeyed anyway.

It didn't take long to arrive at the conference room. It was spacious, though sparten. Not as big as the main hall. About half the size of Admiral Ange's office with a table big enough for twelve. The walls were pale and the floor black but polished to the point it was reflective.

Louise took a seat at the head and gestured for everyone else to join her.

Once everyone was comfortable, she leaned forwards and appraised her little counsel.

Two former cultists, both to her left, and nine Imperials. Soldiers. And then there was herself, their leader. It was so weird to think that she, Louise the Zero, was in charge of this… this motley crew. She was in charge. These people would listen to her.

"So…" Destris began, drawing the word out, "we gonna talk or are you just gonna sit there— Ow!"

Rylee glared at her companion. "Could you at least learn some measure of professionalism?"

Destris raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I thought we were here to discuss how best to turn Paladius into space dust!"

Forcing herself not to roll her eyes at the uncouth man, Louise decided now was a good a time as any to begin. "Before we get to that, I would like to know what I'm working with. Sergeant?"

The Imperials, who had been blessedly quiet and professional, straightened in their seats. Syrash Vundan cleared her voice and adjusted her fatigues. "Yes, my lord?"

"Introductions?"

"Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord." She nodded her head, and Louise could sense her awkwardness, her fear, clear through the Force. "As I said, I am Syrash Vundan and—" She gestured to the other Imperials— "this is the Ninety-Seventh Line Company, Nal Huttan regiment."

Louise nodded her head, slowly. "And what are your skills? Experiences?"

"Of course, my lord," she replied. "If you wish to learn more, I'm sure you could ask Officer Keeling for a transcript of my service. But in brief…"

Contrary to what she said, the following conversation wasn't brief. Sergeant Vundan began discussing her and her's skills and abilities. Most had basic training. Trooper training. They knew their way around a blaster, and they were disciplined, if a bit green. Few had any more than five years of military service, and only the Sergeant and Corporal (a man by the name of Marrin Hoffan) had any battlefield experience.

Of course, it wasn't just blasters. The specialists—two women, Yesajn Garhd and Tesseni Mattlar—were a field medic and a tech expert respectively. Both boasted a decent understanding of their respective fields, and part of her hoped they weren't exaggerating.

Oh, and none of them had worked with Sith before.

Louise wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"And do you all know why you're here?" she asked.

"Yes, my lord," Sergeant Vundan replied. "Officer Keeling had us briefed yesterday morning."

"And?"

Her lips thinned and panic flooded through her body. "We are to aid you in any way we can with your plan to uproot the renegade, Paladius."

Louise nodded her head. "Yes… So far, we're waiting on the cure for the Rot plague, but once that's been produced, we'll be administering that across the slums. Until then, we can do nothing but wait."

Sergeant Vundan nodded her head, though she couldn't help but sense a question in the air. Doubt seeped from the nine soldiers, and Louise couldn't help but frown.

"I sense you have questions?"

Vundan opened her mouth, surprised, but quickly tried to school her features. "I, um… If I may speak freely, my lord."

Louise nodded.

She took a deep breath as if to prepare herself. Fear was permeable through the Force, and Louise wondered why the soldier—all of the soldiers—were so afraid. But before she could ask or contemplate that, the Sergeant spoke: "Why do you need us? We're soldiers, a line squad. We were trained to follow orders and fight for the Empire. We're not humanitarians or doctors. Well, aside from Garhd."

"We need more hands," Louise replied. "So far, we're only a group of four—me, Rylee, Destris, and Khem Val. We don't have the manpower to supply and administer the cure among the thousands afflicted by the Rot. But beyond that, having extra hands and blasters will be useful. Once we start drawing attention, I'll need people to keep the peace. I'll need people to help convince others to follow me, to trust me. And I'll need soldiers who can protect Rylee and Destris."

Destris opened his mouth to retort, offended, but before he could say anything Louise cut him off a cold and harsh, "Yes, you do." She turned back to the Sergeant. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, my lord."

Please with what she had learned from the squadron, Louise turned to the other two in the room. "Now that that is out of the way, what have you two been up to?"

Rylee cleared her throat and sat forwards. "We've been thinking about the cult, about what's going to happen when people start following you, my lord. What kind of message do you want to send to your followers? What do you plan on doing with them?"

"I will… I will have to think on that," Louise said. Preferably when I have time to… "Anything else?"

Rylee opened her mouth, then shut it, shaking her head. She wanted to say something but thought better of it. Noticing this, Destris nudged her and half-whispered, "Go on, tell her."

Louise latched onto that immediately, turning her eyes to the former cultist. "Tell me what?"

"Well, um…" Rylee squirmed in her seat. "It was supposed to be a surprise…"

"I don't like surprises. Rylee…?"

"Well—" She continued squirming, and Louise's suspicion mounted by the second— "I was thinking about buying the Strell House."

"The Strell House?" Curious, Louise raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," said Destris. "It was a community home that belonged to Daegin Strell."

Rylee nodded her head. "He was a charity worker years back. He bought a hotel and renovated it to work as a place where those without a home could stay and get back on their feet. Helped a lot of people. He's…"

"Dead."

"Mmm. But his name still holds a great deal of respect."

Louise nodded along as they spoke. She took a sip of her champagne, giving herself a brief pause to digest what they had said. "And if we buy the Strell House… his reputation could work for us?"

Rylee nodded. "Yes, my lord. It might give your mission some kind of legitimacy. It would also serve as a base of operations and would be a good place to address your followers."

"Hmm… Sergeant Vundan, what are your thoughts?"

For the next… Louise wasn't sure how long, the twelve continued talking, discussing their next course of action—what they would do with the Strell House; what the Ninety-Seventh Line Company's place would be in their plot; and some brief musings on what would come after that. It was productive, though tedious. There was so much to do, so much that needed to be done, but nothing could be done until the Strell House was theirs and until the cure had been made.

Nevertheless, by the end of it all, Louise was feeling confident in her plan, in what was to come. After they had exhausted the discussion for the day, she stood from her seat. "Rylee, as soon as you can buy the Strell House, the better. I want at least the lobby and kitchens prepared—beds, food, amenities. Whatever needs to be done, I want it done. This includes security, Sergeant Vundan. Hopefully, in a few weeks' time we'll have made some headway regarding the Rot, and once we do, we'll be expecting some attention."

A chorus of "Yes, my lord," followed her order, and with a satisfied nod, the meeting was adjourned.

AN: So, the entire "Plague" nonsense pretty much threw a spanner in the works. Yeah. Had the whole year planned. University and writing would've been balanced, and I was going to start my journey to convert to Judaism, and whatnot. And then "Plague". Yay. Not fun. Nevertheless, I decided you deserved something to tide you over, so here's the first half of a chapter I'm working on! A single day for Louise running about on Nar Shaddaa. Hope you enjoy and tell me what you think!