Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
The simple words echoed through her mind as careful steps carried her slender form across the arid expanse between the landing pad and the mine’s administrative office. Bright silver-shaded eyes scanned the datapad in her hand as she walked, perusing the messages that had been sent over the last few weeks. In the course of her research in the bestiary archives on Bastion, she had come across mention of the energy spiders that dwelled deep within the mines of Kessel.
An intriguing species that not only had a connection to the spice and created webs of glitterstim, but fed upon the energy of their prey for sustenance. A concept with which she herself was intimately familiar, given the gift of her mother’s genetics. Vylythis was curious if they could be tamed and taken off-world, in spite of the previous failed attempts she’d read about. Given the trait they shared, the Knight wondered if perhaps it would give her an advantage.
Her musings ceased as she came to the gate of the mining complex. Admittance was the task of moments as she presented her credentials, and sauntered her way into the facility. Slender fingers smoothed out the silk and leather of her outfit, ensuring it was in perfect place. What little breeze there was outside toyed with her crimson curls until the door opened before her and she stepped inside.
The administrator greeted her himself, instead of sending one of his minions in his stead. Vylythis would have given him credit for it, had her senses not alerted her to the nerves that quivered beneath his skin.
“Am I going to be disappointed?” she asked, her voice emerging softly, but with a crisp Bastion accent.
“No, no of c-course not! I have done as you asked. The c-creatures are prepared for tr-transport.” the man stammered, his form cringing visibly as he heard her audible sigh.
“Then why are you so nervous? Were there complications? Are the creatures perhaps not in the condition we agreed upon?” She raised a sculpted brow, levitating the datapad in her hand to the quiet assistant that stood behind her and just a bit the right. Her hands rested briefly against the lightsaber hilts clipped to her belt before they folded demurely together at her waist.
“We lost so many of the slaves we sent to capture them, my Lady-”
“The slaves were, as you told me yourself, expendable, and I transferred a substantial sum to you for this.”
“W-well y-yes, but there have been….troubles...r-recently.”
“What kind of troubles could there possibly be that enough credits can not fix? I know precisely how well your mine is doing.” her tone sharpened slightly, though she gave no other outward sign of her displeasure.
“R-raids...freeing groups of slaves at a t-time...the security has been s-stretched so v-very thin.” he gasped, clawing at the invisible hands upon his throat.
If there was one thing she could not stand, it was the utter incompetence of those outside Imperial territory. While she had technically completed her business, there was something within the Force that seemed to anchor her to the planet. She freed one hand and gestured to her assistant, prompting the woman to utter a soft ‘yes, your ladyship’ before she took charge of having the crates transferred to her ship.
Vylythis, for her part, let go of the Force grip on the administrator’s neck with a disappointed shake of her head. Spinning on her heel, she strode back out into the open area between the surface buildings, eyes slipping half closed as she gave way to her Force sense and began to systematically search for something or someone out of place.
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[member="Dominic Shiro"]
