Tempest Omega - Team #2

Courscant
First Alliance Bank
50th Floor
Internal Audit Division

Evan rubbed at his eyes, checking the time for what appeared to be the hundredth time today.

“Half an hour to go” he muttered under his breath, none of the other workers bothering to acknowledge the sound. There were only a few of his co-workers even in today, most off on assignment or having already gone home for the night. Evan had only been in the Audit division for a few months, and was still getting accustomed to the workload. He was finishing up a preliminary report for his Manager, his eyes glazing over the numbers the floated before him.

It was this unfocused gaze that found a pattern in the number. Evan blinked rapidly, sitting up a bit straighter as he studied the links that had formed for just an instance. His hands reached for pads that littered his desk, calling up previous reports. Hours passed, Evan never bothering to look up as all the others said bye to him on their way out. The lights had been dimmed as night progressed on further. His small desk stood out, the various pads and screens glowing in the dimness. It was sometime after midnight when he called his Manager, rising him from sleep

--||o||--

Antei
Dark Hall
Grand Master’s Office

Both men had been conversing for some time, going over all of the latest updates across the Dark Brotherhood. It had only been a few days since Halcyon had been named Deputy Grand Master once more. He ran a hand through his emerald hair, picking up another pad from the ornate desk in front of him. It had been sometime since Sarin had ventured into his own personal mission, and there was much to be caught up on.

“That should be the last of it”, Muz stated from his seat, two black pools peering out from the strands of hair that covered his face.

Halcyon had begun to glance over this final set of information, eyes flashing in surprise as his head shot up to look at the Grand Master.

“Interesting, yes?” Muz grumbled as he pushed back his seat and rose, turning away from his newest Shadow Hand. “This information came in only yesterday, and we’ve verified it. Within the week we should have lost access to all of our funds”.

Nearly a decade ago then Grand Master Jac Cotelin had re-initialized the operation called “Tempest Bravo”. The objective was to procure funds for use by the Brotherhood. Although the main thrust of the operation had ceased, remnants remained, which were then used as the main source of income for the Dark Brotherhood. In recent days all of the accounts stemming from Tempest Bravo had begun to be closed, and all access to these funds denied.

“Have they tied them to us yet?” the veteran Councillor asked.
“No, but they’re quickly going through the various shells. It’s only a matter of time before that information is found out. I have already contacted the Master-at-Arms and the Fist to prepare us should we be found, but I want this handled before we reached that point”.

The Grand Master had turned with those final words, his meaning clearly conveyed to his second-in-command. Halcyon nodded his head as he rose, moving quickly to the exact. Darth Ashen watched as the other Sith Lord made his exit, moving toward his console to put his own actions into motion.

--||o||--

The call had gone out to the Brotherhood, calling on it’s members to perform a mission for the Dark Council. Halcyon now addressed those who had responded, his holographic image flickering before those who had accepted the mission.

You and your team has received the mission details. Although seemingly simple, the mission itself involves the very future of the organization. Fail, and we will see a battle on two fronts; both militarily and financially. Either will ruin us. Both will see we have no chance of success. You have all the assets of the Brotherhood at your disposal. Know that you are not alone in this mission as others will be working to see that our enemies don’t succeed. Others will want this glory to themselves. Only success will see that you achieve it alone.

Contact me regarding what you enquire. Time is of the essence.

The image suddenly winked out, leaving those listening to immediately set their plans in motion

34 ABY

Core Worlds

Coruscant System, Coruscant

The bulk of the AA-9 Coruscanti freighter seemed akin to all of the others as it seemed to ghost along through the void. Dodging and evading sattelite and spacecraft debris, it seemed akin to any of the other vessels on approach toward the glowing surface of Coruscant. Brilliant light and a menagerie of activity marked the planet, regarded by some as the cradle of human existence; the crown jewel of the Galactic Alliance, the perennial home of the Jedi Order. The freighter made its approach on the night side of the planet, passing glowing billboards and crowds on landing platforms and external walks, moving as innocently as any other commercial vessel laden with patrons.

None onboard would know that it held a member of the Sith Order. No one on the planet would suspect that he went to meet with a greater Sith, the Dark Lord himself.

Kal di Plagia Vorrac sat calmly in the passenger compartment, his gloved hands folded in his lap as he looked idly at the time. His outfit, browns and blacks suiting a mid-level merchant, went with an olive-colored coat and a day's worth of stubble to make him appear the tired traveller. To him, commercial transport had been essential, though that meant disguising himself. Ironic, that he had to wear a disguise to go to his birth planet. All the same, it was better to be ignored than followed, especially when one commanded a Stratocracy. Even worse was the attention on his true allies, the Brotherhood of Dark Jedi; were anyone to link that to Jusadih, it could potentially tear the system's government apart. Such huge implications over a few petty numbers.

As the shuttle came in for its final descent and a charming female voice rang out to relay instruction, Kal ignored it, taking in the sights and sounds around him. The AA-9 series wasn't exactly new, but this particular ship showed that many of its visible welds were oxidized, bolts and panels throughout its length rattling as the ship crossed over into atmosphere. A few moments of weightlessness were a prelude Coruscant's gravity, showing that only luxury vessels worked on perfect synchronization. It suited his cause; if he appeared too rich it would make his disguise mean nothing, and for once in his recent years he might actually need to hide.

Disembarking was the usual mess, idle speech in a hundred languages from varied passengers, everything from your average human to a hulking wookiee carrying a huge travel bag. Vorrac took with him his only luggage, a durasteel briefcase from a common Corellian manufacturer; nothing worth undue observation. He'd even battered and scuffed it to make it look used. Leaving the vessel, he presented the necessary droid with his identification. It was as fake as the cheer in the droid's voice.

"Welcome to Coruscant, Jev Brokkol." The droid said, reciting the information from a confirmed passport. Getting passable ID was easy, you simply had to persuade the man who issued it. "Enjoy your stay!"

"I will. Thanks!" Kal replied, pushing cheer into his tone to hide any disdain he felt. Useless scrap.

Walking to the platform marked "Airbus: Aurek Six", as he'd been directed, Kal waited to allow the first bus to leave as soon as he saw the brown-robed figures aboard it. Jedi were more common on Coruscant than on other worlds, and obviously had other things to do. All the same, he knew better than to stand beside one of them, happy to let them maintain their facade of the Sith being extinct once more. As if we've ever been, he thought to himself as he boarded the next airbus. It took off with a rumble of repulsorlift, strangely free of excess motion as it sailed toward its destination.

The airbus took Kal along the outskirts of Kishi, letting him take in the sights and sounds of Coruscant as he relaxed in his seat. The ecumenopolis had changed much since his last visit here, more than thirteen years prior; certain zones were visibly dark, others showed signs of vegetation if you looked down. The Yuuzhan Vong had hit Coruscant hard, though other planets had fared far worse. Needing to beat back aggressive flora and fauna was a small price to pay next to terraforming dead worlds. As the airbus arced higher through the skylane, Kal's eyes were drawn toward the distant Works, where he could see faint trails of dark smoke. He knew he'd probably have to seek out any contacts he had left there to do his job adequately.

Floating further through the sky, the airbus left the Works behind as it crossed through the Senate District. Many sounds of astonishment and wonder came from those around Kal; he observed quietly, pretending to care about the brilliant spectrum of color above, below, and all around him. In the end, though, he remained quiet and calm. It better fit his image as a regular businessman, used to these sights. The bus continued in its path, coming to the Financial District after a few short minutes and docking at a landing platform near the buildings Kal required. He stood, glad that he'd recently serviced his prosthetic knees as he did, and looked around at the district before him. These were sights and sounds less-familiar to him; only on a job, so long ago, had he visited Coruscant Financial. A brisk walk took him to the front of the required building, whose name he didn't bother to note; a few steps into a public turbolift and he was finally free to relax.

Cracking his neck, Kal glanced about for security scanners and noted a few. Surely the others knew he was here by now. Dropping the tired image, Kal looked coldly at his surroundings, calculating the size of the area, possible escape routes, and any convenient spots for traps. It had been years since his involvement in the bitter business, and yet he was still so careful. The day he stopped, he knew someone would be at his back. The turbolift shuddered to a stop and Kal strode through its doors confidently, taking in the sudden shift in surroundings.

"The pretense of luxury," He mumbled to himself.

Gilmarin Jewelers' showroom was a sight to behold, display cases of beautiful gemstones and jewelcraft visible in well-maintained display cases. A plush rug led the feet of customers to purchase any of these they could afford. Vorrac didn't bother with speculating how many credits were paid for inferior Adegans; those were insufficient for his uses for such a gem. Besides, he liked making his own. Walking to a black door that nearly blended in with the wall, Kal flashed a keycard from his coat pocket before the inset droid eye; it made a noise of acknowledgment before admitting him. Soon, he was in another turbolift, this one carrying him to the penthouse above. Exiting the turbolift, he found the necessary door quickly, sliding in his keycard and entering without pretense or preamble. Everyone within was waiting for him; they'd have sensed him downstairs.

Kal's eyes flitted across the room as he took in his cohorts, all gathered already and in various casual garments. Ronovi Tavisaen Tarentae's prosthetic eye flashed as she looked on Kal, sizing him up. The two had shared little in the way of political discourse during her time as House Tarentum's Quaestor. Striding to the nearest empty table, Kal looked on the forms of Ashia Kagan Keibatsu and Shikyo Keibatsu Sadow. The two seemed oddly focused on him, glancing to one another as they stared; it gave Vorrac the feeling that they were conversing with their thoughts. With a grin he almost couldn't hide, Kal realized that they probably were; it was rumoured that all Keibatsu did. After setting down his briefcase, clicking it open to access hold-out pistols and his lightsaber among other things, Vorrac strode to the chair that held the most dangerous man in the room. Kneeling, Kal kept his eyes from the black pools before him, giving every image of servility. One did not infuriate the Lion of Tarthos without good reason.

"Lord Ashen," Kal said, his tone perfectly humble, "What is thy bidding?"

26 Hours Earlier
Kyataru
Kuroshin Castle

The Zabrak’s eyes darted quickly across the datapad as she absorbed the information that had been sent to her, her mind already racing. She looked up suddenly as apprehension dripped off her like water.

“What is it?” Sanjuro looked up suddenly from cleaning his sword. Dread was not something his mother felt easily so whatever it was, it concerned him.

She said nothing and handed him the datapad. Amethyst eyes skimmed it quickly and as he digested the info, the same feeling of dread filled him as well.

“Frack!” He looked up at his mother who was already at a console accessing Revan’s network. She punched in a briefing of the info and coded it, sending it to Eiko, before she grabbed her comlink and contacted the hangar.

“Ready a ship. I leave for Coruscant within the hour.” A faint reply was heard before she put the communication device away.

Sanjuro raised a confused eyebrow slightly at this but said nothing.

“I have to meet your father there.” She swung her warcoat around her shoulders, sliding her long hair out carefully before letting it settle.

“You’ll have to take care of our business on Ziost yourself.”

She paused as he just nodded to her, realizing all their missions had been executed as a team.

Ever since they had been sent to House Revan by the Grand Master upon her return from Iridonia and especially since Shin’ichi had left on his own pilgrimage, her son had not left her side; even protecting her on a few occasions. Like the drunken fool in the cantina on Yridia. Sanjuro had followed him and slit his throat in a back alley, just for insulting her. When asked why he chose to slice the man’s throat instead of using his saber, his reply was only that the use of the Tanto allowed for a more painful death, allowing the man to bleed out slowly and rendering him incapable of crying for help due to his vocal cords being severed.

Azure eyes regarded Sanjuro quietly for a moment before she hugged him briefly. He truly was his father’s son.

He hugged her back, before she slipped from the room to head to Coruscant.

----------------------
Thirty seconds earlier
Coruscant
Private Apartments of Ebon Flame Inc.

The Nightsister watched as the man entered the room. Sizing him up quickly, she glanced over at her brother-in-law.

‘So that’s Vorrac? Why the briefcase?’ Her mental monologue reached out to Shikyo.

’I understand that’s part of his disguise.’ Shikyo’s thoughts penetrated her own in response.

They watched as the man opened the case and withdrew his pistols and saber before dropping to his knees and addressing Muz.

"Lord Ashen, what is thy bidding?"

The Keibatsu stole another glance in each other’s direction momentarily at this.

Ronovi looked on silently at Kal's arrival, her patch an unblinking eye in his sight. Her trip to Coruscant had been long but smooth, as she had traveled all the way from Lyspair. She was aware of the Keibatsu's mental communications - Ronovi was not someone who spoke much through the Force - and had propped herself against the wall away from the seemingly cozy chairs and couches. Contrary to Kal's disguise, she had simply buttoned her coat up to hide her military uniform instead of bothering with a costume; the way she looked was not something she could easily hide.

"Now that we are all here," Muz said, "we can discuss our next step in this mission."

The Grand Master was not one who spoke in speeches or monologues. His words were terse, trimmed at their ends as they escaped from his pale, bearded lips. His ebony eyes, however, told more than he would ever actually say. Ronovi knew that he was expecting others to speak, not himself. The Epicanthix was not new to interjections, so she of course jumped in.

"You may all be surprised to hear this from an Obelisk, but this ain't something we can get our hands dirty with...yet." Ronovi let her organic eye flicker across the faces of her Brotherhood allies. Ashia nodded at the remark, while Muz's eyebrows creased in a quiet moment of contemplation.

"If the First Alliance Bank is where the discrepancy was first seen, then that's where we should begin," Kal said. "This Gilmarin Jewelers estate, my lord...it's nice enough, but will it suffice as our facade?"

"There is one thing we can do," Shikyo said, cutting the Plagueian off. "It's something a few of us discussed before leaving Antei."

"And that thing is...?" Ronovi probed.

"Bribery."

No sooner had the word passed from Muz than Ronovi sensed a secret discussion brewing up among the Keibatsu again. She did not try to sense what they were on about, though she had a feeling that Kal was. The Plagueis Quaestor was mostly unfamiliar to her, but she could sense a vibe of paranoia from him, as if he wished to be aware of everything so that he could maintain steadfast vigilance over his surroundings. Shikyo then exhaled before speaking again.

"If we do this, all the bank will know of us is that we're fancy embezzlers. If we're lucky, the executives will be money-hungry enough to take a deal. If not...well, that is when we'll get our hands dirty, Ronovi."

"For now, however, we rest for the evening," Muz said. "You have your room cards. Take the night to rest and recuperate. In the morning, we will talk about details."

What room card? Ronovi wondered, moving a gloved hand toward her coat. She blinked when she felt the card nestled in the inner pocket near her breast. Translocation always disoriented her.

The Epicanthix nodded curtly to the Keibatsu and to Kal before leaving the room, her boots scuffing the carpet as she walked to her designated apartment. As she slid the card into the door, she thought about the danger the group now faced. The thought of losing assets and becoming bankrupt had never occurred to Ronovi, seeing as she saw the Brotherhood as less of a funded organization and more of a dark, nearly cult-ish group. But money for their military, academy, and diplomatic efforts had to come from somewhere, with or without ruling over a system.

Ronovi stepped into the small yet lavish space where she would stay the night. The little supplies she had were shuffled to the edge of the bed, as she sat in a chair that overlooked the view of a garden down below. Coruscant was foreign to her - she had never been to the city-world, not even for Tarentum assignments. Her lips pursed, she let a finger dance along the window, veins pulsing beneath her browned skin.

It was only a matter of time before the team would what Ronovi had christened an annoying technical difficulty.

Executive Suite
Gilmarin Jewelers
Coruscant

Sliding the card key into the mechanism, Shikyo felt through the Force once more for any potential threats before opening the door. Nothing raised the hairs on the back of his neck nor heightened his sense of things. As the Herald opened the door, he took in the sights of the luxuriously designed room. Golds and maroons decorated every inch of the room in elaborate accents that welcomed the most distinguished of upper class citizens.

The Elder took in the sights and location of things before grinning to himself and moving deeper into the room. Passing the furniture and foyer to make his way towards the bedroom, the first thing the Keibatsu noticed was a black box of plastisteel sitting on the bed. A grin found its way upon Shikyo’s face as he unlocked the latches on the container. Inside the case laid a pair of “Black Lion” pistols modified with an extended slide and with a more personal design etched into the exotic weapons.

Shikyo chuckled to himself.

“Where does it get all these wonderful toys?”

Replacing the weapons in his holsters, the Krath toyed around with his new gifts before putting out the call to his contacts in Coruscant to get more information. First Alliance Bank was impressive in its ability to investigate. Quick, methodical, and precise. These were the terms coming up from the few contacts the Herald had made. Plans of various sorts began to form in the Keibatsu’s mind, all leading to corruption or murder in one form or another.

Pinching the bridge of his nose after a couple of hours, Shikyo found a bottle of Corellian rum waiting in the mini-bar. Taking a couple of drinks, the Herald decided that the day had given him entertainment for now. He was looking forward to doing something different from the norm but as his eyes began to close, wondered what kind of business awaited him.

The Next Morning
Coruscant
Gilmarin Jewelers
Executive Suites

He paced the floor in front of the high rise window, arms clasped behind his back, holding the long leather of his coat to his back. The leather pressed against his waist, the outline of the man's sabers visible through the garment. He paused in his stride, turning to look at the Equites that had accumulated in the common area behind him, lounging in comfortable furniture after a decent night's rest.

"Master Taldrya had made mention that we could lose all of the money that we already accumulated?" Kal offered.

Muz tilted his head.

"Well, it's not like walking into a bank and asking to withdraw twelve billion credits wouldn't draw attention." Shikyo snarked as the door behind him slid closed. "Most of these places don't have more than a hundred thousand in currency at any point in time."

Ronovi nodded. Most major financial transactions were moved as data, snippets of code, binary bits of data passed between computer files. "We need to know who to bribe before we can bribe."

"The fleets are paid for in full." Muz returned to the point, turning to stare out the transparisteel window pane. "The houses aren't self sufficient, though."

Ronovi and Kal shot each other a worried glance. Ronovi might not be a Quaestor any more, but she remembered all too well the commands issued last year. The issues that plagued Tarentum with instability: the Church, the Rakghouls, all these factors had loosened what already tenuous grip that the House had on their home system. There wasn't a base that would support the kind of taxation system needed to support the house. She lowered her head into a hand braced by the armrest of her chair.

She had swallowed the failure with each transfer of money from Antei's coffers, but never really tasted its bitter tang.

"It's a bit harder for most of us, Lord." Kal leaned forward in his seat, uncomfortably feeling the need to defend his efforts. Efforts that he felt had reached some success thus far. "We don't all have the benefit of Scholae's Empire, or Sadow's Corporation to hide us. Such machinations take time..."

"I do not recall asking for excuses, Vorrac." Muz did not turn from the window. Kal tried to find the reflection of the Lord's face in the window, but it was bled out by the bright lights of the skyline.

"Any unit that has taken a transfer from Antei risks discovery if this is not dealt with, Kal." Shikyo moved toward the bar, lifting a crystal glass and holding it to the light. "No house is safe."

Muz turned from the window, leveling his ebon gaze on the room. "You'll find uniforms and equipment in your chambers. We leave at 0900."

Kal rose quickly, bowing as he watched the others get to their feet. Four hours. Of course he had a plan. He always had a plan.

Shikyo cocked an eyebrow at his brother. Muz shifted his weight, then glanced at his wife. Kal watched quietly, noting that Shikyo nodded shortly afterwards. "Care to let us in on your plan?"

The Quaestor was bold. Muz unclasped his arms, letting his hands rest on his saber hilts casually. Kal blinked back fear, eyes locked on the weapons that had bested so many. His mind raced to the pistols he had brought with him, debating if it would even buy him a moment more of life, or if it would just increase the suffering he would know soon.

Muz chuckled for a moment. It had been a while since he had relied on outsiders for the heavy work. "At 0930, some delegates from Ebon Flame will be meeting with their banker at the First Alliance Bank."

"Ebon Flame?" Ronovi let the word come from her mouth before she realized it was out.

Shikyo laughed. "That explains my new toys." He stepped further into the room, setting his glass down on a small table next to Ronovi. "Ebon Flame owns EbonArms and Gilmarin Jewelers. Who's the delegate, Maxim?"

Muz smiled.

---------

Coruscant
First Alliance Bank
50th Floor

Evan sat in his manager's office. He honestly loathed the man, an undereducated cad who was born into money. He only got the job because of a favor owed to his mother, niece to one of the directors on the board of the Bank. Jick was a short-sighted fool, and Evan hated the fact that life seemed to part her legs for him at any provocation.

He leaned back in the chair, hearing the squeak of the upholstery as he tried to relax. Jick wanted a full analysis done, and he didn't have enough access to get all of the details for that. He tried getting IT to sort it out, but without the correct approval forms in triplicate, there was no way they'd do it. So much bureaucracy, it was a miracle that anything ever got done.

Except for stuff like this, it seemed.

With so many trillions of credits filtering through the bank, it was hard enough to keep track of everything as it was. Ever since the Vong, the number of embezzling incidents had tripled, and they still hadn't seen fit to increase manpower in the Audit department. He was grateful for the overtime, but he couldn't imagine how many things had slipped their notice with the fatigue brought on by the long nights.

Jick opened the door, interrupting Evan's thoughts. He was tall and thin, with a narrow face and closely cropped blonde hair. He smiled, a perfect row of overly white teeth dazzling as he made his way to his seat. As soon as he was settled behind his desk, he folded his fingers and looked at Evan.

"Did you finish that analysis?"

Evan hid his hatred well. The man hadn't even checked his messages. It was two days ago that he had sent the request in.

"Soon. I need you to approve the access upgrade in your messages, first." Evan paused. "I sent it to you two days ago, titled 'Access Unauthorized'. IT won't approve it without your electronic signature."

"So, it's not done?"

Evan imagined beating him to death with his datapad.

Coruscant
First Alliance Bank
Lobby

As the rays of early morning sunlight seeped into the polished windows of the building, Viktir Oliveira paced the recently cleaned floor with his fingers dancing about his collar in an effort to smooth out the creases. Today was not looking to be a good one; Viktir had overslept, gotten about fifteen minutes' worth of his wife ranting to him from the kitchen, and missed transportation to the bank. He had barely arrived on time, to the disgust of the big cheese. Viktir was aware of many of the bankers despising the boss, but he himself had gotten so used to getting an earful of furious rants that he had become rather immune to any anger sent his way.

Now he was waiting in the lobby for a group of delegates from some corporation to deal with. What was their name again? Ebon...Ebon something. Viktir parted a lock of his red hair to scratch at a white patch of dead skin along his scalp, just as the doors to the bank swung open and five people stepped inside.

"Mister Oliveira?" one of the five asked, his voice soft but somewhat intimidating. Viktir's neck stiffened as he offered a hand for the man to shake.

"Yes. You must be Maxim Fastblade."

Maxim Fastblade looked like any ordinary businessman at a glance, despite the length of his dark hair which he had tied back in a neat ponytail. The dark suit he was wearing seemed to have been personally tailored, the fabric accentuating his chest and shoulders as the tails brushed against his hips. His vivid blue eyes stood out to Viktir, who wondered for a moment if that was even his natural eye color. Maxim ignored Viktir's handshake and looked briefly around the lobby.

"So I take it you've reviewed my message of concern, Mister Oliveir?" he said, his eyes flickering to the well-dressed woman standing behind him.

"Er, yes," Viktir said. "Yes, as agent, I'm responsible for this sort of situation. You said, uh, you were robbed?"

"Some of our funds were extricated by thieves in a nearby bank," Maxim tersely replied.

"Er, right. And you notified this bank on the matter?"

"We were told that the only way to return money to our accounts and ensure it didn't happen again was to clear everything up with the auditing offices here. That's why we came."

Viktir felt the hairs on the back of his head bristle suddenly. His eyes darted to and fro about the delegates standing before him. Besides Maxim and the young woman, the other three were dressed in fancy light gray uniforms, the brass buttons glistening in the light provided. He noticed that the woman in uniform wore a blue glass-like eyepatch, and blasters and blaster carbines were placed in holsters on their belts. CorSec, he wondered? Their uniforms and weapons did seem authentic, but he was no expert.

"All right, then," he said, breaking the long preceding silence. "Well, I can take you up to the 50th floor where we can go over your accounts and ensure that they are fully protected. Is that all right with you?"

"Perfect," Maxim replied. "Let's be off, then."

Viktir found that he did not like it when Maxim stared at him. To say his gaze was disconcerting was an understatement, and Viktir had dealt with many uncomfortable moments with board members and CEOs of different businesses and corporations. The banking agent mostly looked straight ahead as he moved into the lift, not turning his head to see if the others had followed. The doors closed and the flash of uniform insignia told him he was still not alone.

The officers with Maxim and the young woman appeared to be ranked sergeant, at the very highest. Viktir was half-tempted to ask the female sergeant what had happened to her eye, but he wasn't in the mood for any more awkward altercations. Besides, she had most likely lost the thing in the line of duty, and Viktir knew when not to ask questions.

The numbers began to slowly rise in the lift. 1...2...3...4... All the six could do was quietly wait in the small, stifling space they stood in.

***

Evan was afraid that steam would start rising from his ears if he hadn't left the office sooner. Jick had done nothing but evade the audit worker's simple request, choosing instead to lecture the man about schedules and prompt response times. He collapsed into the chair provided for him in the cramped space he worked within, while a fellow employee hovered over his panel holding a steaming cup.

"Want a cup of caf?" he asked. Evan shook his head. "Boss got to you again?"

Evan would normally partake in chit-chat with his other workers, but at the moment, he didn't feel like socializing at all. The veins in his forehead threatened to pop as he looked over various datapads, his eyes flickering toward the blue screen of his computer. The data had all been sent on time...why couldn't his manager just give him the damn authorization?

Some day, he thought to himself, he would kill Jick in a fit of rage. He began to wonder what would be his weapon of choice. A club to bludgeon him with? Or perhaps a simple cutting knife to dig right into the bastard's skull? No, that wouldn't work, there was probably nothing underneath that bone to cause a significant hemorrhage. A blaster? Or maybe he'd find out the man's address and strangle him in his sleep. Not even Jick's dog would miss him.

Evan gnawed noisily on a loose fingernail and flicked the fragments from his cuticle to the side. It was time to become the company drone once more. Casual scheming would have to wait.

Corellia
Industrial Complex

He snuck through the reactor, eerie green lighting casting odd shadows on his face, his suit, his blaster. Rog ducked beneath a pipe that transported...something... that was so hot that steam rose off of it as it sat there. He narrowed his eyes, letting the bright color slip out from under his heavy lids as he tracked the sound beyond.

Rog let the half smile cross his lips as he spotted the shadow of his pursuer. Leveling the blaster, he squeezed the trigger and a row of bright lights erupted across the room, tiny explosions and a man sent reeling.

The response was quick, a barrage of explosions erupting all around Rog. He watched, almost as if it were slow motion, as a bolt tore into the steaming pipe. It exploded, his shirt catching flame as he felt himself rocketed away. Tucking and rolling to his feet as he landed, he tore the flaming shreds from his sculpted torso and sneered.

"Is that all you got?"

"CUT!" The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, thanks to hidden speakers and a megaphone.

The human was so pale, he could almost pass for rattataki. "More emphasis on the *that*, Derc. We need more intensity. The girls won't be paying attention... too busy watching your abs, but the guys want to see the rage. Give them the rage! We'll try again after lunch."

Derc tossed down the prop blaster with the personae of Rog, heading for the caterer's tables. He waved at one of the aides as he moved, motioning with his hand as one brought him a new shirt.

"Derc Kast!" The woman shrieked, shoving past a security guard and running toward him with a holocamera, a dozen security professionals hot on her heels. "Derc Kast!"

Derc turned on his heel, watching the young girl with too much makeup barreling toward him. He dropped his weight, stepping back and turning his body sideways out of habit.

It was only a second later that they caught her by the arms, the holocamera slipping from her grasp and skidding to a rest at his feet.

"Just one question!" She screamed, kicking at the guards. Derc crouched for a moment, picking up the camera, then stood and strode over to her and the two huge guards. One was human, the other...well, human-ish. Derc smiled at her, and let his thoughts soothe the three of them. She stopped struggling and the guards quit dragging her.

The sneaky reporter regained her composure. "Derc Kast, you've been out of the public eye for almost twenty years and you've been signed to one of the biggest budget holofilms of the year. Where have you been? Are you going to be acting more? Are you back for good? How much are you being paid?" She paused for a second, taking a breath as she noticed his physique. The final question rushed past her lips in almost a hushed whisper. "How do you look exactly like you did twenty years ago?"

Derc handed her camera back to her. "I thought you only had one question, pateesa."

The gutteral and deep voice of the guard interrupted her wordless protest. "We'll put her back outside with the others, sir. It won't happen again."

Derc smiled, dismissing the guards with a hand wave. "I think she'd rather have an interview." The charm oozed from him in palpable amounts, moistening the reporter's mind.

---------

Coruscant
First Alliance Bank
50th Floor

The elevator doors slipped open with a faint chime, the redheaded banker stepping into the hallway first, leading the group into a small lobby. Viktir motioned to the right, pointing at some chairs and couches, a caf machine and some vending droids.

"Can we offer you any refreshment?"

Maxim shook his head slowly, feeling as some of the uniformed members of his retinue left the group, smiling as though they hadn't eaten in a few days. It had only been a few hours since breakfast, but the promise of caf was not all that they pursued. Viktir stopped as if to wait for them, and Maxim nodded, the unspoken command to continue coming through loud and strong.

"Ah, right. Let's go tour the audit department, then. I think you'll find that the level of oversight we have here far exceeds even the strictest of standards in the Core." Viktir prattled on, perhaps out of nervousness, perhaps out of habit.

Kal and Shikyo looked at each other over steaming caf, watching the banker lead the Lion among the lambs, cowering in their cages made of code and cheap wallboard. Shikyo chuckled, envisioning the havoc that would happen if his brother were to bare his claws, the glowing aether of saberlight rending the whole floor asunder. It was a pleasant fantasy.

Kal nodded after taking a sip. "Let's find a terminal."

---------

Osarian
Construction Site Permit 11H389DZ-871

Taigikori would have sneered if the connective tissues weren't cut off at his jaw. He didn't pretend to understand all of the Grand Master's plan, but he had hoped to at least understand the parts where he was involved. This was one of those parts. The Headmaster moved through the empty walls, watching droids plaster over the durasteel frames with flame retardant materials.

The sound of repulsor-carts hummed up from below. His ear could barely make it out, but the sound was unmistakable. He reached out, feeling along the ties that bound the universe together. There wasn't another living being for miles, the fear of radiation from the war a few years back keeping people at bay. This wasn't as remote as Lyspair, not by a far shot, but Taigikori couldn't sort out the rationale for out-of-region construction. He didn't even have the blue prints for the building yet.

The Headmaster sighed as the repulsor-cart got to his floor. He stepped closer to the droids pushing the materials around. These crates were very different from the building materials. Magshielded and heavy, the crates were locked with triple keys until the Headmaster wove a strand of the Force into the tumblers, popping them open with savvy that any thief would desire. He lifted the lid and pushed aside some packing materials to see the contents.

Taigikori grunted. Now he had no idea whatsoever.

---------

Coruscant
First Alliance Bank
50th Floor

He couldn't believe his luck. Shikyo rounded the corner and found an open terminal, the subtle stench of bile in the air. Someone had just gotten sick, which explained why the terminal wasn't locked. He had to go in a hurry. Kal maneuvered to the side, watching for the worker's eventual return from the refresher.

Fast hands retrieved the small device from a belt pouch. Slipping off the protective cover, he jacked the device into the terminal, a small dish unfolding and adjusting toward a window. He brought up the commlink on the terminal, waiting for the relays to engage.

{{{{Encryption Delta Bravo Zulu engaged....}}}}
{{{{Link Negotiated...waiting on relay....}}}}
{{{{Relay...Good....Waiting on response from server.}}}}
{{{{Connected.}}}}
{{{{Camoflaged Remote Access Program Initiated.}}}}
{{{{Installed. Starting Comms.}}}}
{{{{BlindDragon: Well, fancy meeting you here.}}}}

Shikyo smiled.

Kal moved subtly, his eyes noticing the pale green of a Nemoidian wobbling from the refresher. It stopped for a second, holding against the wall, before stepping back into the refresher, the door swinging closed behind.

"We may not have a lot of time." Kal grimaced, trying to see over the top of the cubicles into the refresher as the door swung.

"Was it a he or a she?" Shikyo didn't look up from the monitor, following the instructions provided by the former Seneschal on-screen.

"What?" Kal asked before thinking. "Nemoidian...It's an It, far as I know. It's using the female refresher, though."

"Great." Shikyo closed his eyes for a second.

---------

"And for high value clients, such as yourself, special auditing teams can be hired for spot checks as your needs dictate." Viktir continued, holding a door open for the Captain with the eyepiece.

The woman with long hair blinked bright blue eyes, and stepped back, looking around for a moment, eyes darting around the room, trying to find the source of the silent message. Maxim looked at her through the side of his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.

"If you'll follow me, we'll show you how secure our encryption is on even our lowest priority audits are." Viktir motioned at the woman.

"Pardon me, where is the refresher?" She spoke.

"Back on the other side of the cubicles. But you won't be able to join us in the server room, as it's secure entry."

"That's fine. I will meet you in the lounge, with the others." She smiled briefly and half-bowed before stepping away. She turned and made her way through the aisles of desperation, between shards of crushed dreams and lives gone unlived. Ashia grimaced as she felt along the Force, finding her way among those who were barely more than inefficient digestion machines.

Her job would be all too easy.

The door slid shut behind her with an audible hiss as she entered the room. The Nemoidian was at the sink washing up and seemingly better. Ashia moved to stand next to the woman and checked her lipstick in the mirror.

“Are you ok, sweetie? You don’t look so good?” Ashia forced a look of concern as the woman looked from her own reflection to that of the long haired woman standing next to her.

“Oh, I really haven’t felt very well today. Maybe I should log out and go home to rest. I wonder if it was something I ate?” She patted at her face with a damp towel; her large eyes blinking in the mirror.

“You don’t feel well, you should lie down.”

The Nemoidian blinked for a second, “I don’t feel well, I should lie down.” The woman turned to move towards one of the couches. Ashia reached out to assist her, taking her arm as she did. The Nightsister reached out through the tapestry, pulling the tendrils to her and sending them into the woman. The Nemoidian's colour paled and before she could sit down she turned and ran back behind the privacy screen to disgorge another bout of digested matter into the commode.

A moment later, she came back out and stumbled towards the couch.

“I feel dizzy.” She said as she plopped down and put her head into her hands.

“You should lie back. I can call for help.” Ashia, put one hand on her back and the other on her arm to help her lay down. The Force slid from her into the other woman yet again; feelings of dizziness and nausea wove through the Nemoidian to coerce her illness to epic proportions.

The woman moaned in agony; sweat forming on her brow. “Please!” She cried. “Please get help!”

“Stay here, I’ll go get help, you’ll be alright.” Ashia exited the refresher quickly.

'That should buy you the time you need.' Ashia's mental voice called out to her brother-in-law.

"Thanks, sis." Shikyo said both mentally and audibly as he continued to type at the terminal, not even bothering to look up. Kal looked at the Herald quizzically for a moment then glanced back towards the refresher.

“Please call for help!” Ashia’s voice rang out, trying to get someone’s attention. “There’s a woman in the refresher who is gravely ill! She needs help!”

A slight smile creased Kal’s lips as he realized she must have bought them the time.

Coruscant
First Alliance Bank
50th Floor

The distraction was more than enough time to finalize the spike on the console and allow Shikyo’s “assistant” to work their magic. As he input the final authorization codes, a wall of text began to flood over the datapad.

{{{{Access granted. Accessing Audit Department dossiers.}}}}
{{{{SilverWolf: Transfer the files to Vorpal’s pad?}}}}
{{{{BlindDragon: Please, give me a challenge. .}}}}

A series of beeps began to emit from the di Plagia’s datapad, bringing a deeper grin upon the Elder’s face.

{{{{SilverWolf: Cross-reference the profiles with activity logs on Obsidian Zoning.}}}}
{{{{Cross-referencing now…}}}}

Watching the script move across the datapad, a pair of images appeared, followed by names and information about their length of service with the company. The young one, Evan Dyran, seemed impressionable enough while the older one, Jick Zylest, seemed like the stubborn, lazy, yet insatiable type. Greed like that was hard to fulfill, even if one had the wealth of all the Hutt crime families combined. Keeping his eyes on the pictures on his datapad, the Keibatsu began to formulate a plan to relieve a little of the tension resting on the funds of the Brotherhood.

{{{{SilverWolf: Is there any way we can edit the files to transfer the heat onto Zigtek Pharmaceuticals?}}}}
{{{{BlindDragon: Give me some time. There’s a lot of information to sort through.}}}}
{{{{SilverWolf: Understood. Also, give me the chain of command for auditing. Forward to Vorpal.}}}}

More cheerful beeps came from the Sith’s datapad as another face came across. Respectable-looking, money written all across his outfit, and looks that were too well formed to be natural. Tiran Solutar. This was the man. This was the target. Guided by visions through the Force, the Herald had a plan ready to execute.

“Kal, follow this man. Be discreet and let me know where he goes. Usual channels.”

Shikyo tapped his temple a couple of times and watched as the Quaestor nodded and made his way out. Standing at the console, the Keibatsu hoped that he had plenty of time to give his “assistant” to finalize her work.

Coruscant
First Alliance Bank
50th Floor
Public Turbolift

As he strode into the turbolift, Kal typed a few commands into his datapad, demanding building schematics and using some of the false credentials in the frigate-load of information. Whoever this "Blind Dragon" entity was, they were good at their work. He quickly spotted his destination; the thirty-second floor. Small indicators marked a cafe, some offices, a few databanks, and most importantly, a landing pad. Kal depressed the button labelled for thirty-two, then stood back and willed himself to relax in stance. There was no reason to be worried; the Keibatsu above him had everything well-in-hand. As soon as the flashing of light from other floors stopped ringing the silvery lift, Vorrac strode outside. A quick glance at his datapad told him exactly where the nearest refresher was.

Wait, He thought to himself as he moved. Patience. It'll look conspicuous if you already know where the refresher is; ask a person. He started looking for them before noting the number of service droids. Shee... He inwardly cursed, heading for the nearest. "Excuse me? Do you know where the refresher is?" This time, he tinted his speech with a practiced Commenorian accent.

"Absolutely, sir!" The droid toned, its voice cheerful in the pathetic mockery of a soul. One look at its motions said that it was memory-wiped on a regular basis. "It's just to the left; I must ask, how is Commenor this time of year?"

Of course I get the one droid that will ask... Vorrac thought to himself before stilling it. He was still shaken by the Lion; he hadn't felt like a moth next to an ion engine in years. Had a hit on Commenor... Grado Nasch... Was summertime. Means it's winter now. "I imagine it's pretty cold right now. I've been away for awhile."

"Ah. Well, enjoy Coruscant, then!" The droid said, before wandering away on its pre-programmed route. Kal hurried to follow its directions, acting as if he desperately needed to find the refresher in question; it fit the image.

Entering, he was quick to stride into the nearest stall after a quick glance under the stalls. His innate senses hadn't warned him of a Jedi, so he cautiously prodded the room for life; unless there was a Yuuzhan Vong Warrior hidden on top of the refresher, the room was empty. Closing the stall, he sat down in case anyone checked for feet before turning his datapad over. A practiced motion popped open its rear panel; he wasn't too concerned about Lord Ashen's warranty on the thing. He quickly looked through before he found it; the audio signal device inside of it. A quick tug disconnected it. The last thing I need is that infernal beeping every few seconds.

"I'll be right out!" A man shouted as he clanged the door of the refresher, leading Kal to stiffen up as his hand shot by memory for the lightsaber hidden under his vest.

He stopped himself, following his next instinct to go for the hold-out pistol in his boot. Using the Force to bolster his vision beyond the metallic door, he saw the man; young, professional-looking, expensive business attire. He swaggered as he moved, his face holding that air of superiority common to those who had just achieved their goals. Kal didn't reach into his mind; there was no need for the struggle, as he broadcasted his emotions on the surface. Silently, as the man looked away from the mirror, Vorrac undid the door's latch with a noiseless hand motion before bending light around himself with the Force. The door swung open, and the man didn't even notice it as he turned to the refresher stalls.

This one looks clean, Kal persuaded with a mind trick. The man's thoughts were weak after his successes; he was cocky. "This one looks clean." He mumbled to himself, stepping inside and turning to close the door.

Vorrac moved like a viper for the kill, standing as the glove over his left hand clamped over the man's nose and mouth. Dropping the pistol into the refresher, Kal pushed his right hand into the man's left temple and let loose a blast of telekinetic power. A satisfying crack gave him a moment of thrill, the vigour of the Dark Side still coursing through him. Turning, he ungloved his left hand before plunging its metallic fingers into the refresher's water and pulling the pistol loose; no evidence. Kal gently laid the limp man to the ground even as the last flicker of life left him; the impact had killed him shortly after rendering him unconscious.

With the precision of a professional, Kal stripped off all but his armored underlay and undergarments before doing the same to the dead man. A quick switch of clothing was followed by Kal positioning the man just right; it would look like he'd slipped and smashed his head off of the refresher. The Sith completed the disguise by cupping his branded right palm and trailing water across the floor next to the boot he'd been wearing. With a nod of satisfaction, Kal pulled the overshirt that said "Security" on, then buttoned the man's shirt over it before donning the professional's coat. A quick glance in the mirror as he exited the stall completed the image; He was the perfect picture of a long-time employee. With a raised eyebrow, he spotted the small pin on the man's chest and the golden, lettered cuff-links. He quickly removed the chest pin and sent it down the refresher, not recognizing it in the least, and popped the cuff-links free before turning them around. As he suspected, only one side was lettered.

"Excuse me," A young woman said as she walked toward the refresher, "Have you seen a man go in there? Blonde hair, a little shorter than you?"

"No, I'm sorry, I haven't." Kal said, lying through his teeth as he switched to a High Galactic accent. He secretly thanked himself for dealing with all of that coaching in his youth. "He might be at the cafeteria?" Kal pushed on her mind after glancing about; no brown robes.

"Oh..." She shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, he might be at the cafeteria. Thanks!" Quickly, she strode off toward the expensive facade in front of the cafeteria.

Kal was quick, rounding a corner and producing the datapad he'd tucked into his coat. With the casual stance of someone reading an update on their favorite speeder, the Sith tapped in a few lazy-looking commands before watching the information he needed pop onto the screen. A quick hack and bypass of a minor skylane traffic database revealed only a small amount of distance around the building. He frowned faintly before cross-referencing it with the transponder codes to Solutar's airspeeder; he was nowhere within the area. Need a better signal, Kal thought, breaking his connection before any droid or surveyor could detect the minor intrusion. It was surpisingly easy to hack into and out of Coruscant's information grid if you didn't actually do anything; the droids recognized it at first as a regular function and dismissed it, as that was what it looked like.

Calmly following building schematics, Kal walked across the polished floor and toward the exit; a businessman looked inconspicuous enough to draw no attention by knowing his way around. Striding casually as if on his way home, he chose an airspeeder that spoke of moderate wealth, clearly not the property of the CEO but certainly not a lowly intern's vehicle. While he couldn't fly a starfighter, speeders were easier, and this probably had an autopilot; making a motion as if depressing an activator, he used the Force to activate it before settling himself into the seat. A sharp telekinetic jerk ripped the cover out from below the controls, to which the di Plagia quickly swapped a few wires with his datapad. Another light hack and cross-reference with his own files, and he spotted Solutar's vehicle; it was parked alongside several others. A restaurant, then, or cantina. Taking off, he set the autopilot to merge with the skylane he needed before producing his comlink.

"SilverWolf," he said quietly, passing it along the channel they'd been using. It was programmed to encrypt their messages. "Vorpal here; found your friend, moving to proximity."

The server room was an impressive enough space for what it was, the walls and corners lined with consoles being operated by uniform men and women. Their faces looked peculiarly gray in the light of the stark screens they worked in front of, their fingers of a near similar hue as they clattered along keys. The lighting was most likely the culprit of this, though it did paint a vivid image of how the workers must have all been dying inside.

Viktir wove in and out of various pathways in between the consoles with Maxim and the Captain hot on his heels. He suddenly felt a hint of pride for all the intricate networking, all the idiosyncrasies of the computers as they whirred and hummed in a synchronized chorus. He turned around to say more to the visitors and nearly yelped when he saw Maxim's eyes directly on him, his face seeming to be only inches away even though there was a good foot between them.

"As you can see," he stammered, "we have audit specialists here day and night paying close attention to all activities in our accounts. You can be assured in the fact that we are taking good care of your assets."

"I am still interested in seeing the level of encryption you use," Maxim replied. "One can never be too careful."

"Oh. Well, of course. Over here, if you will."

Viktir shooed off one of the scrawnier audit workers with his left hand, his wedding band flashing noticeably on his finger. The soft footsteps and the dim shadow by the man's feet informed him of the Captain's presence, as she scanned the console that Viktir had decided to sit at. He began to type feverishly into the computer, all his years as an audit specialist coming back to him before he had become the banking agent here on Coruscant. As various numbers and letters popped up on screen, various logs of data could be seen regarding accounts.

"As you can see, it takes quite a combination to even get to the first layer of data," Viktir said. "Our encryptions guarantee that it would take one of the most cunning hackers in the galaxy to even break through half of the firewalls we use here. I myself have only scraped the surface of this particular account."

"And these consoles," Maxim said, nodding to the Captain as the women tapped at the device with a brown finger. "You've had no problems with them regarding these protections. No accidental leaking of data or information?"

"Oh, it would be a grave mistake of the company to permit any errors at all.," remarked Viktir, standing up from the console and being somewhat unaware of the overly assertive tone that gripped his voice. "We have a zero-tolerance policy for - "

He was abruptly cut off by the flash of blue again. Maxim stood completely upright, his hands at his sides, his skin surprisingly white in the light of the vicinity. Viktir's eyes widened and he felt the perspiration begin to collect on his brow.

"Whether you have a zero-tolerance policy or not, that still doesn't cancel out the possibility of an error," the Ebon Flame board member whispered, his voice thin and strained. "Does it, Mister Oliveira?"

Viktir was stunned into silence for a moment or so, his fingers twitching along his tightly knotted necktie and pulling at the fabric. Had he had been any more feverish, he would have torn apart the thing thread by thread. Finally saliva returned to his throat and he croaked, "Well, no, but the probability of there ever being a - "

Maxim shot a glance at the Captain, who now stood behind Viktir with her arms folded. "I believe we can say we're done with this room. Shall we depart?"

"I..."

But Viktir did not have time to wonder or protest, as Maxim had begun to make his way toward the exit, the Captain flanking him. As the agent stood there, his hand darting to his scalp again to combat another itch, he was unsure of what exactly had happened between him and the Ebon Flame associates, or even if the associates was satisfied by the results of the tour. Nor did he notice, as he scampered out of the room in order to catch up with his guests, the tiny slicing remote that had spun in a flash of gray between the Captain's fingers and inconspicuously jammed and camouflaged into the console like an unwelcome appendage.

***

The small cantina where Solutar was supposedly dining at was nice enough. Kal had parked his speeder a ways away from the man's vehicle in an attempt to look nonchalant, then stepped out into the cold Coruscant air with both hands buried deep into the pockets of his new coat. He had not had a chance to inspect the victim's identification, as taking it from him would look far too suspicious if he had just split his head open on the refresher. Kal thought, with a grimace, just how much that was going to stink up the place before someone went around to finding him.

As he pushed the door open, he was bathed in a pinkish glow as the entire cantina was lit with red and rose lights. Two Zeltrons sat talking over glasses of horstberry cider, only stopping to wink and giggle at the di Plagia as he slipped past their table. He shook off the flirtations like they were pesky flies on his shoulder, passing an intoxicated Cathar whose fur dripped with the rum he had just spilled in an attempt to get it into his mouth.

Kal stopped when he neared the right-hand corner of the cantina, watching a Twi'lek waitress as she chatted with several well-dressed men laughing over empty and half-empty glasses. He could smell mint liqueur, Coruscant brandy, and malts all in one whiff, and he nearly coughed from the rush of scents overpowering his nostrils. As the Twi'lek sashayed away from the table, her blue hips moving from side to side as if they were waves on a beach, she cast Kal a simpering smile before disappearing into the back room. He let his eyes wander on her for only a moment before a raucous voice roared out to him.

"Osric! Osric, my good man, over here!"

It took Kal a moment to realize that he was Osric, and his hand instinctively moved to his side where his pistol rested under the bulk of his coat. As the metallic fingers on his left hand twitched, he cast his sights on the man who had called out the name, eyes somewhat glazed as he waved around a near-empty glass of lager. Kal recognized him straight away: This was Tiran Solutar. The overly chiseled features and the tailored suit gave him away, even though his hair was springing from his scalp where it had most likely been meticulously combed. Solutar's head bobbed back and forth, and Kal sneered at the fact that such a "professional" could be so wet behind the ears when it came to drinking.

"Tiran," Kal said courteously, letting his smile linger a bit longer in his facade. Solutar guffawed loudly, beckoning him over.

"Sit down, sit down. We were just talking about you," he hiccuped.

Kal hesitated at first before drawing up a nearby chair and settling into it. He did not enjoy being so close to the pulsing bodies of the businessmen, their faces red and glistening from sweat as they exerted their energies on what they ate and drank. He stretched out with the Force, tapping into each man's muddled brain before focusing on Solutar. The man, in this state, was wide open.

"Tell me, Osric," Solutar said, slapping a large hand on Kal's shoulder. "Did you dye your hair or something? You look different today."

Oh, that's not the half of it, Kal thought to himself, wincing at the weight of Solutar's palm against his coat but reveling in the proximity. He saw the Twi'lek waitress from earlier pass by again, and he waved a hand at her.

"Coruscant Cooler, if you please," he said to her. "I'm here on important business."

"That's what they all say, honey," the Twi'lek cooed, her Lekku curling as she waltzed away. Kal shrugged it off, setting his sights on the job ahead of him.

***

"Is it working?"

Ronovi curled her upper lip as she tapped into the small datapad in her hand, the epaulettes on her uniform jacket bristling with every move she made. With the tour finished and Viktir having scuttled off into his corner again, the two of them had made their way toward the turbolift on the 50th floor, standing beside it and acting as if they were partaking in casual conversation. The Epicanthix had unbuttoned her overcoat, letting the brass buttons dangle limply from their hooks and cold air rush against her chest. She sighed deeply as the text cascaded onto the compact screen.

"We're in," she said to Muz. Muz's eyes moved briskly to and fro, hands placed on his hips where his lightsabers were hidden away.

"Send whatever you got to Blind Dragon, immediately. And let her know about the low-yield detpack."

"The what?"

Muz gave Ronovi a look. "What it takes to blow the relay uplink once we're done with it."

Ronovi nodded, her thumbs punching letters in as she relayed the information:

{{{{BlueEye: Transferring information to you. See if you can cross-reference any necessary profiles.}}}}
{{{{BlindDragon: Affirmative on that. Sending you the profiles I sent SilverWolf.}}}}

Ronovi briskly scanned her eyes across the images on her pad, handing it off to Muz for him to doublecheck. His brow furrowed as he looked over the data.

"Evan Dyran and Jick Zylest," he muttered, passing the datapad back to Ronovi. Ronovi nodded, knowing full well that he had picked out those names due to his interest in them. She sent another message to BlindDragon:

{{{{BlueEye: Status on the sorting of account information?}}}}
{{{{BlindDragon: Probing Zigtek Pharmaceuticals so we can shift the blame on them when we edit these files. It'll take some time.}}}}

"Who is this 'Blind Dragon,' anyway?" Ronovi asked as Muz and she stepped carefully back toward the cubicles. "If you don't mind me asking."

"A friend," Muz replied. "Don't worry about it."

"All right."

"For now, focus."

And Ronovi did, just as she saw a young man step out of his cubicle wiping his face with a handkerchief. She exchanged a look with Muz before stepping forward, buttoning up the overcoat of her uniform before she placed a hand on the worker's shoulder.

"Evan Dyran."

He turned around slowly, his eyes spilling out exhaustion like water.

"If we may have a word with you." Ronovi gestured to Muz. "Business matter. We represent Ebon Flame."

Muz felt along the threads of the universe, the ties that bound the Force to every living thing. He reeled it back, feeling the tug of Evan's soul wobbling on the end of one narrow thread. Muz blinked slowly as the man stared at his eyes. Were the contacts still in? He had gotten used to the discomfort after an hour. They stopped itching after two. He turned away, looking down the corridor of cubicles as Ronovi continued.

"I understand that you are one of the most vigilant auditors in the bank." Ronovi managed a half smile, the sort of which that was not out of place among these bureaucrats.

Evan rubbed the abuse out of his eyes, mildly bewildered at the compliment. "What can I do for you?"

---------

Corellia
"The Rog Draft" Set
Derc Kast's Trailer

She could not believe her luck. The former model was showering a few meters away, and he had promised her an interview in a few moments. The man hadn't been seen in the public eye for twenty years. The Entertainment section that she worked for would be enthralled, and she might not be relegated to the editing duties any more. She couldn't conceal her smile any more.

Derc came out from the other room, a towel around his shoulders and his shirt open to the waist. he smiled at her, brilliant teeth glinting as he pulled out the chair across from the reporter. "I didn't get your name."

"Mehany..." She stumbled on her words. "Mehany Farren."

"Well Mehany, can I offer you something to drink?" He motioned for the silent steward, a young human in a suit with an earphone that stood by the door. He stepped closer, eyes bright and mouth shut. Efficient.

"Thank you, but no."

"Ah." Derc nodded at the steward, who turned and walked away. "I take it that you'd rather get right to work, then?"

Mehany nodded, whipping out her datapad and stylus. The glow bathed her face in pale blue. Derc let his hands rest on the table, eyes seeking out the window behind her in a practiced aloofness. This was hardly his first interview.

"So, I'm sure that the promotional stills will come out soon, and it's plain that they won't be needing retouching. You look the same as I recall. Who do you use?"

"As you recall, hrm?" Derc cast her a sideways glance, and she blushed, her mind racing to the poster she had up on her wall as a young teenager. It was more of an advertisement than a poster, now that she thought of it, but still. "What do you mean, 'who do I use'?"

"Well, twenty years..."

"Twenty three years." He corrected her briefly. "Oh, I am sure that people will think I was retouched or that I went through surgery."

"You mean that you didn't?"

Derc laughed. "There's no need for it, pateesa. There are ways to stay young forever without the surgeon's laser or the retoucher's programs. It's a religion, really. Good diet, training, all part of the retreat..." He stopped, mid sentence, letting the word hang.

"The retreat?" Mehany repeated, hoping he would continue.

"Nevermind about that." Derc waved his hand dismissively. "But yes, there is more potential within each of us than hardly ever gets realized. It's a shame, really."

"Is that what they teach at this retreat?"

Derc sat there for a moment, tapping his fingers in contemplation as the moment grew pregnant with silence. "Some. It's more about learning how to understand your place in the Universe, and use your potential to best live up to it."

She put the stylus down for a moment and turned the amp on the recorder microphone up. "You mean, like the Jedi?"

Derc laughed again. "Nothing like the Jedi. Not everyone can be a Jedi, not everyone can use the Force. What I am talking about, anyone can do... with appropriate training of course."

Mehany smiled, intrigued. This would make front page, easily.

---------

Coruscant
First Alliance Bank
50th Floor

They walked away from the cubicle, heading back toward the elevator. Ronovi kept a straight line, peering down the lane with the eyes of a soldier, wary of any interlopers. Not that she worried about the safety of her Lord. He could blink them out of existence, she was sure. But that would not help this mission, and keeping up the appearances of a Corporate executive and expensive hired security would.

He stopped, standing in front of a cubicle, leaning on the shoulder height wall casually, looping over the top at the inhabitant. Ronovi paused, hand on holster, eye darting back and forth.

"How is she?" Muz's words were low, barely audible.

Shikyo looked up from the pad, then angled the display so he could see the work.

{{{{BlindDragon: I've got everything. Maintenance backup download copied. I'll send it and where i need the remote via wave to the normal holocomms.}}}}

Muz nodded, Shikyo responding with words typed onto the interface.

{{{{SilverWolf: The Lion wonders why the server room wasn't enough.}}}}
{{{{BlindDragon: Server room was a wash. I got the prospective client list, but no access to the core. But it'll make a good distraction for that other thing.}}}}

Shikyo looked up, a half smile on his lips before shutting off the link and standing up. "I guess we know what happens next."

The brothers stepped together, Ronovi a half pace ahead as they moved toward the elevators. Ashia threw an empty cup into the bin, pressing the button for the elevator as they approached. A few moments later, the doors opened on an empty car, and they filed in, waiting for the doors to close before breathing easier.

"So." Ronovi exhaled.

"She's going to need us to tap into the feeder core, down in the undercity." Shikyo explained. "Should be pretty straightforward. No staff, only droids."

"A bank job." Ronovi chuckled. "Lovely."

Coruscant
First Alliance Bank
Underground Server Room

Shikyo tossed aside the last articles of the security uniform for something more fitting for his personal preferences. Keeping his datapad close, he continued to feel his way through the Force for something that wasn’t mechanical in nature. Every sensation he received back was to small and basic in mindset to pose a threat. Turning back to his family and ally, a small grin made its way upon his face.

“Like I said, should be smooth sailing but make certain nothing is closing in while we finish this up. Roni, if I could have a little support?”

The female Tarentae looked unamused at the Herald’s shortening of her name as she placed her hand by her blaster and moved up to his right side. Linking the datapad up to the console, the Elder tapped a series of access codes to bring the doors to a slow and noisy open. Peering inside, the corridor was lined with generators and various terminals, illuminating a variety of vivid lights. Along with the mechanical obstacles were a few miscellaneous security droids, armed with what appeared to old E-5 blaster rifles.

Shikyo watched their pattern of movement before closing in on one with its back turned on the Herald. Placing his hand on the droid’s head and focusing on the mechanics and his movement, the Keibatsu allowed the tendrils of the Force to do his bidding, reconfiguring the computing process of the droid. With a slight shutter and an unusual garble, the droid began to spout off random number and codes before taking aim and firing at its fellow security droids.

As the first bolt launched through the air, the Keibatsu wasted no time plugging into the terminal of each door, opening it quickly before the droid had the chance to notice the true intruders of its lair. The doors opened a little faster than the initial one, giving the “malfunctioning” droid a new distraction to investigate, as well as new targets to pick off. Three doors later and with enough adrenaline to fuel a podracer, Shikyo began to work hastily on the final door as the last security droid shrieked before coming to a crash upon the metal floor.

Ronovi moved in right behind the Krath as the altered droid began to scan for more targets in its vicinity. Turning its sights on the two dark jedi standing, the Obelisk wasted no time drawing her blaster and placing a bolt between the “eyes” of the mechanical figure. The level of precision was a little more than the Elder expected from his ally, as he kicked aside a limb of one of the droids and moved towards the feeder core.

Plugging his datapad into the core, Shikyo made a quick nod towards the Exarch.

“Cover me. This shouldn’t take long.”

The Praetor nodded as she began to move back towards the entrance of the server room. A wall of soft blue text began to rush through his device, as his “assistant” began to finalize preparations for the necessary information. Not even a minute later, the text stopped scrolling and a message appeared on Shikyo’s datapad.

{{{{BlindDragon: You might want to get going. Now.}}}}

Packing up his equipment with a haste guided by the Force, the Krath yelled out along the corridor to his companions awaiting him.

“Pack your shiang. We gotta go.”

As everyone began loading up into the speeder car, the Herald input the frequency to get in touch with Kal, hoping his message would get through.”

“Vorpal, change of plans. Time to bail.”

Coruscant
Daafari Sky Cantina
Tiran Solutar's Personal Booth

Kal was in the midst of another bout of laughter, easily drowned out by that of the drunken Tiran, when the comlink went off in his coat pocket. Pulling it out with a raised eyebrow, he was careful not to betray any sign of distress as he recognized the frequency. "Silverwolf" was calling him. Patting Tiran on the back once more, Vorrac stood, stretching as if the sit had tired him.

"Excuse me, Tiran," he said. "I've got to take this."

"No! Come on," Solutar replied, getting a pleading look to his drunken face. "We were just about to order another round!"

"No, no," Kal replied, not losing the smile. "It can't wait."

Striding away from the table, Kal nearly rolled his eyes as he heard Solutar tell the women at the table of how Osric was "always working". You have no idea, the Sith thought as he strode toward the door. Turning down the volume switch on the comlink, he replayed the message, hearing Shikyo's voice as it spoke of imminent departure. Shrugging off the spike of irritation at the time he'd wasted, he quickly headed for the door, pocketing his comlink. In his haste, he almost forgot to glance behind him, a paranoid habit he'd developed over years of stealthy work. His emerald eyes caught two figures as they stood up, heading for him.

"Of course." He mumbled to himself, heading for the speeder. Activating it with the Force, he sprinted to it and hopped in behind the controls, taking off.

His departure was followed quickly by a blue airspeeder as it headed after him. Sure enough. He quickly removed the autopilot function that moved to merge him into traffic, diving the speeder down below the brilliant lights of the upper layer. Brilliant holographic signs quickly turned into standard lighting, pockmarked with dark patches in the wake of the Vong, and then amber security lights. He was in the undercity now; far beyond the lights and glamour of the upper levels. Leveling out the speeder, he scaled it back to cruising speed before looking over his shoulder once more. Sure enough, the blue speeder was quick to follow him.

"A chase, then?" He said to himself, before kicking a hard right turn through the winding corridors of Coruscant's lower levels.

Sharp turns and vicious bends, all aided by his Force reflexes, kept Kal a step ahead of the speeder. Narrowly missing a group of people on a platform, he kicked the speeder into a right so hard that it threw him around in the seat. Following with a hard left, he curved into a tunnel made for service droids, riding it down toward the next exit. The other speeder was right behind him, even as he shot out of the tunnel and hooked a hard left. A scraping sound and a flurry of sparks took some paint from the pursuing speeder, but that was it. The pilot was good; where Kal relied on precognitive senses to safely navigate these areas, his tail was doing so by simple skill.

"Enough of this." The Sith quickly set the speeder toward a building before him, parking it near a narrow alleyway platform.

Hopping from the speeder, he opened his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, taking the saber from beneath it and sliding it up his sleeve. Turning left, he ignored the moans of damaged droids and impoverished citizens as they reached out to him; his stolen suit marked him as wealthy, and the wealthy had credits to give. A pair of thugs in another alleyway headed toward him as he turned left; he bid the Force to pour horror through them, making them shiver violently in terror and scurry away. Finally, he turned right before stopping, resting against a wall; the Force told him that the pursuers were close. He was beginning to stride back to his speeder when, as expected, two men in plain business coats stepped out. One was human, the other kiffar by the facial tattoo. As Kal tensed to face these adversaries, speculating all the while on who they could be, the human assailant spoke.

"Thought you could duck out on us, Osric?" He said, chuckling as the pair drew blaster pistols. "We saw your new speeder from the bank, but the cantina almost threw us off. Now, give us the files."

Kal's expression fell from tense caution to exasperated disbelief. All of that in the speeder chase, and he was the target of corporate espionage. Figures.

When Vorrac's only reply was a flick of his wrist, the pair snapped into action, only to yell out in surprise as a crimson lightsaber burst into violent life with a snap-hiss. The kiffar fired a panicked shot at Kal, which he simply caught with his outstretched left hand, dissipating the energy across his palm. Darting forward, he cut the man's gun in half before taking his arm and then his head in a flurry of spins. The second screamed as he saw his companion fall so easily, firing shot after shot from the gun in his hand, a non-military model. Even Kal could deflect single shots such as these, his Makashi shortcomings bolstered by lack of enemy skill and Force-given precognition as he harmlessly swatted them aside. The human's gun ran out of shots long before he ran out of cries, and he hurled the gun at Kal before turning and running. Reaching out with his left hand, Kal yanked the man back with the Force, his scream raising in pitch as he flew backward. The lightsaber's blade crackled as it burnt its way through his chest.

"W-wha..." The terrified human huffed, his shock overriding the pain for a few seconds. Looking into Kal's eyes, his face paled. "Y-you're not..."

"No." Kal replied, drawing the weapon free and deactivating it, "I'm not."

Tucking the lightsaber back into his buttoned shirt, Kal stretched his senses out around him to check for anyone near. Sure enough, those he had passed had congregated, watching the fight with disbelieving eyes. Easily fixed. Reaching into the coat and around his waist, he pulled the two hold-out pistols free before turning to them, bolstering his eyes with the Dark Side as he planted a bolt into each face. Only one had the time and strength to run; three shots hit him in the back. As Vorrac walked by him, he put another into the back of the man's head before dropping the guns altogether. Adjusting the gloves he always wore, he quickly strode to the speeder, climbing into its piloting seat and taking off. There were no witnesses left; anyone who found the bodies would find long-dead corpses, not unusual in the undercity.

"Vorpal here." Kal said into his comlink's secure channel. "En route to Lion's Den."

Corellia
“The Rog Draft Set”
Derc Kast’s Trailer

Derc took a swig of the amber liquid that filled his glass as he scanned the datapad in his hand. The ice clinked loudly against the glass as he went over lines for the next scene.

A knock at the door interrupted his thought process. Derc put the datapad down and went to the trailer’s door.

“Chaz! It’s good to see you, ole’ buddy! Come on in. Can I get you a drink?”

“It’s good to see you too, Derc. Yes, thank you.” He entered as Derc beckoned him inside. He strode across the room and put a few ice cubes in a glass before pouring some of the same amber liquid from a carafe at a side bar. No longer the teen heartthrob that he remembered, Chaz Olsen had matured, fine lines around his eyes strained by surgeries, and careful dying kept the grey at bay. Derc was nothing if not observant.

“Sit down, please.” He handed the man his drink and motioned towards a sitting area that consisted of a black leather sofa and two high backed winged chairs covered in rich burgundy velvet. An ornate coffee table with a matching side table that sat between the chairs completed the area. The two sat and contemplated each other for a few minutes; sipping from their drinks.

“What brings you to the set?” Derc flashed that perfect smile of his as he regarded the other man.

“I read that interview you did for The Corellian Globe with…”

“Mehany Farren, yes. Lovely girl.” Derc finished the other’s sentence as he recalled the interview. He took another drink and drained his glass.

“Well, I want to know…about the retreat.”

Chaz Olson looked…well, 20 years older then Derc, yet they were about the same age; Derc being about a year older in fact. The two had worked together on a couple of occasions doing shoots for the same underwear company many years ago.

“The retreat…well, it’s very, VERY expensive. Are you sure you want to…”

“Derc, look at me? Look at YOU!? We’re the same age, yet you look 20 years younger! I want what you have. All these younger kids are coming up and getting all the good breaks. I need this! Please…I have to know.”

“I don’t know if they’d even take you, man…”

“Money is no object.” Chaz cut him off.


Coruscant
Private Apartments of Ebon Flame Inc.

A chirp filled the silence as Muz’s communicator went off. The Dark Lord looked at it briefly, recognizing the Brotherhood’s encrypted code. He flipped it on and a small holographic image of Thran Occasus blinked into existence. The figure bowed slightly.

“My Lord. How soon before the ‘Retreat’ is ready?”

Muz smiled at the question. Rarely seen bouts of mirth crept into the former Scholae Consul’s mind, worming through his unconscious in ways he did not like. Muz had reason to smile. What he had expected would take months, had taken a week. He sat back, recalling the decision to deal with the Holovid producers as part of what the Dark Council would jokingly refer to as a master plan. Or was it derisively? Muz mentally shrugged off the notion. He knew his own mind, and he knew the way.

“Construction is under way. Probably only a few weeks now.” He finally responded, putting the actor at ease. The Headmaster was overseeing the droids as they put together the ‘retreat’. The resort would be austere, remote, difficult to get to, all part of the image they needed to impress on the gullible rich.

“I’ll just have him wire the money to that one account you set up, and tell him there is an application process then?” The response was clean. Thran had considered that end. Muz nodded. Not all of his opinions about the man had been in vain.

Muz merely nodded briefly, tapping a finger alongside his chin as he lifted a leg across his knee, sitting comfortably in the leather seat. “Who is it?”

Thran looked confused for a second, then quickly came around. “Chaz Olson.”

Muz nodded again, another smile creeping up his lips. “Doesn’t he know Damen Kull?”

Thran turned his head, repressing a chuckle that the Grand Master of the Dark Brotherhood and Dark Lord of the Sith would keep up on entertainment tabloids. He regained his composure quickly, clearing his voice before responding. “Yes.”

Muz almost cackled, the dry laugh coming from deep within and almost not registering on the holotransciever’s microphone. He brought his finger up in front of his face, resting fingertips against the fingers of his mechanical hand in pyramid shape.

“All is going according to plan, I take it?” Thran smiled himself.

“Quite.” Muz blinked slowly. “You’re doing a great job, ‘Derc’. Continue to do so.”

The holo flickered and dimmed, the image of the former Consul fading from view as Muz sat, letting his eyes reach out beyond, through the transparisteel and into the night sky of Coruscant. It wouldn’t be long before there was a line of potential clients; filthy rich people who were desperate to trade all of their worth for a few more years of life, or at the very least the impression of youth.

It was, indeed, all going as he had planned.

---------

Coruscant
‘The Burnt Acklay’ pub

Ashia leant against the bar, her dress slit to the hip, hair in a mixture of tight braids and loose cascading curls. She sipped from a glass, a clear liquor swirling around thinly sliced ice cubes and fruit. She looked up, blue eyes washing over the crowd of people that pulsed through the bar. Her mind slipped off to a dark corner of the club, her brother-in-law maintaining his vigil from a corner booth that the bouncer had to be mind-tricked into letting him occupy. She could have done this all alone, but he refused to let her go unaccompanied, swearing that Muz would have his head if something happened to her. He probably wasn’t wrong.

She smiled as she batted her eyelashes at the barkeep for another drink. The cooled pure spirits mixed with rare juices and ice to refresh her palette. The liquor was strong, but not enough for her normal tastes.

The hidden communicator in her small satchel shook, the silent vibration a warning from Kal or Ronovi, both outside, watching for her prey, their prey. She turned her eyes toward the door, watching the thin blonde man as he made his way past the cover charge stand. His face was narrow, sharp, almost pointed. His hair was close enough to the scalp that you could make out every contour of his head. He moved between people, making his way to the bar. She measured his gait, watched how he moved. He tried hard to be graceful, but only in the way that came from forced schooling. The man may have played sports in school, but he had almost no education in the other, more lethal arts.

The target was marked.

She waited for the bartender to set down the fresh drink, and ignored the man, her mind fixated, all but willing him to draw closer to her. He wasn’t far now, a few dozen paces at most as he ordered a drink. No doubt some mild impostor of a fine brandy, something that would impress people who wouldn’t know better just because of the price. She kept her eyes elsewhere, watching the couples dance on the floor, other people mingling, the bartender, careful not to cast a glance his way as she adjusted how she was sitting, giving more of her leg to the air.

The line was baited.

She paused, opening a small mirror from her satchel, applying a touch more of the special paint to her lips. The tincture was an old recipe, something invented when she studied the Alchemic arts with older Sadows. She brushed it across the outer line of her lips, the red enhanced further by the way the light in the bar played across them all. She felt his eyes on her.

The net was spread.

He moved slowly toward her, ignoring the young Twi’lek that had been staring hungrily at him since he ordered the Corellian Brandy. The dilettante with the overly short skirt and sloppy leggings. The young turk of a businessman who was hoping that a drink would expand his network. He focused in, his vision narrowing on the one person who seemed to care the least about his existence.

He stepped closer, resting an arm on the bar, his hand clutching the glass like a security blanket.

“What’s your pleasure?”

She took a moment before turning to acknowledge him, a wide coil of dark auburn hair obscuring one of her eyes as she looked up at him.

“My drink?” She was careful how she formed the words.

“Or other things.” He smiled, letting his expensively treated teeth glint in the light. “I’m Jick… Jick Zylist.”

The man was caught.

---------

Coruscant
First Alliance Bank
50th Floor

Evan walked off of the turbolift, moving through the haze of early morning toward the prison of wallboard and datapads. There seemed to be a bit more movement in the office, more people than there should have been, but it barely registered in his mind. There wasn’t enough caf in his system for it to matter.

He slid into his chair, staring at the display blankly for a few moments before moving his hands through the rote movements to get the system to acknowledge his presence. It had been a long night. He had the offer from the arms company to consider. The offer was nice, ten percent more than the salary where he was. He had considered the fact that they would probably want him to relocate for the position. They’d offered to pay for the expenses, of course, but still. The officer was somehow frightening, in ways that Evan couldn’t really put a finger on. It felt like the man’s gaze was somehow predatory, and made him uneasy.

He waited for his inter-office communications to boot up. It took fifteen seconds for the messages to load. Another twenty to read the highlighted message. Another twenty to read it again.

Jick was dead.

He blinked as he read it a third time, bathing in the sparse details about a heart attack behind a nightclub. He kept his laugh restrained. It was well past time that the man got what he deserved, in his opinion. Of course he wouldn’t have taken care of himself. He probably had too much recreational drugs, and paid the price.

He clicked the next communiqué, letting his eyes slide across the words, his finger bouncing to the next message without thinking. It took a second before he went back, reading the words.

The Vice President of Compliance had sent him an email regarding the rough report, the one that Jick barely looked at. A million credit discrepancy had come out on investigation and they wanted to discuss it with him.

Today was Evan’s day.

---------


Halcyon read over the datapad again, his eyes checking the numbers. They had sacrificed a shell account, and it had left a little more than a million credits vulnerable. He scratched his head, and then turned back to the Grand Master.

“Let me understand this.”

Muz chuckled. It was a simple matter to him, misdirection, distraction, and legerdemain covering their movement of funds to another location that would be less noticeable. The sacrifice seemed expensive to the Sith, no doubt. But he had plans in motion to compensate for that. They couldn’t live on the coffers of the remnant any more. There wasn’t enough there to fuel their war machine.

“So, the auditor who discovered our accounts is still alive?”

Muz nodded. Halc debated discussing the wisdom of letting the man survive with him, but decided better of it, seeing another million in one of the new accounts to balance out the sacrificial lamb.

“We have another revenue stream in the works anyway, Halcyon.” Muz turned from the Sith Lord briefly, staring at the simple throne, the dull iron reflecting the flames of nearby torches.

“Is this about the construction on Osarian?”

Muz nodded, looking back at the green-haired man, then back to his chair.

Halc would have rolled his eyes if he were a less disciplined man. Krath never got directly to the point.

“The real money, the kind we need, the way we need it…” Muz turned for effect. “Is in religion.”

[[FIN]]