Incision

[Yidhra]

Raekkar :: Igol

Raekkar wasn’t the first choice of homely for anyone. Except maybe Purebloods, and even then only those with particularly solitary inclinations.

Yidhra didn’t much care for company. (Unless you counted unwilling test subjects. Then she had plenty.)

The halls of Igol were full of people, but they all lay silent and still. Nobody there to interrupt her studies, or her experiments, or her alchemical rituals. Peace and quiet and the comforting shroud of death.

It lingered in her instruments; in her hands, and her equations; it was forever on her mind. Not as a fear gazing at her from the not-so-distant end, but rather as an obstacle to overcome.

Her current challenge revolved, in particular, about overcoming the obstacle of certain influential individuals, and the small inconvenience of them still drawing breath. It was an issue she would remedy soon enough.

It was simply the matter of gathering the right tools for the job.

[member="Darth Osano"]​

 

[Darth Osano]

It was hot as hell out here.

Maleagant would have been more concerned if it was cold, truthfully. If you showed up on a molten part of a planet and it was anything but sweltering, someone had probably torn a hole into the Netherworld and the laws of reality were acting up again. So even though Maleagant was in black robes, black armor, and his ridiculous black mask, he welcomed the scorching heat. Not that he could feel it anyway. His helmet and the bodyglove he wore were temperature regulated anyway. He felt as chilled and comfortable as he always did. The joys of modern technology. The pair of justiciars that came with him enjoyed no such luxuries, of course. They were a pair of sweaty messes, quite clearly uncomfortable with the climate.

These were a weaker pair working in the Eye of Truth. That was why Maleagant had brought them. A bit of heat would do them some good, build up some endurance. Despite the downright treasonous speech of Lieutenant Allara that had been recorded via protocol droid, Darth Osano was not here to exact vengeance against his only known collaborator, @Darth Yidhra . It was rather amazing. As the High Inquisitor of the Eye of Truth, Osano was expected to serve fire and steel to any who would undermine the reign of the Dark Lord. He had been given a vast network of operatives and spies in order to do so. Instead, he was using that network of operatives and spies, in conjunction with his own, for something far more insidious.

Networking.

As it happened, the person charged with finding traitors had some traitorous opinions of his own. Funny thing, that.

Once inside, Maleagant ordered the Justiciars to wait in the hallway for him. So long as they were out of the heat at last, they didn't appear to care. "Mind the prisoners," he warned. He had heard stories about those who ended up incarcerated on Raekkar. They weren't pleasant... And the stories were worse. Maleagant continued ahead, arriving at the door of Yidhra's operating chamber. Darth Osano knocked, but in a manner that was far from polite. It sounded like a prelude to a drug bust.

 

[Yidhra]

All three yellow eyes narrowed. Yidhra carefully replaced her alchemized scalpel on her alchemized tray, full of other alchemized tools. Overkill? Perhaps. But with friends like these, you never knew when you’d have to fend off a surprise lightsaber stab to the gut.

With the way this man was knocking – and after she’d been assured he was well-mannered, too! – this meeting wasn’t off to a very good start. But then again, when were the affairs of Sith and criminals ever smooth? Any murderer worth their salt would squint twice at a deal that went off without a hitch.

“Enter,” the sorceress called out in a voice that retained surprisingly frosty temperatures given the local climate. It was a skill.

With precise gestures, the Pureblood shed her black, elbow-length gloves, and deposited the matter-slicked material into a handy incinerator. No organic refuse was safe to leave lying around. Too many… hungry things in these labs.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to barge in,” Yidhra spoke by way of greeting. “You were invited here. Do us both a favor and behave…”

A pause, a casual smile that was anything but.

“Maleagant, was it?”

[member="Darth Osano"]​

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant did not say anything until the door closed behind him. "Darth Osano now." He clarified. It takes some getting used to, the Darth names. Not as long as it took to getting used to that stupid dragon the Dark Lord had saddled him with.

He paused to take a look around the lab she was operating in. Clearly her transition from Resurgent space to here had been more amicable than it had been for others. The lack of significant internal politicking and warring factions had to be a breath of fresh air. It would grow stale for most sooner or later, but from what he understood, [member="Yidhra"] preferred the quiet. More time better spent in a laboratory like this one. Definitely not Maleagant's first choice if he had to pick where he was spending his leisure time.

Her prisoners probably felt the same way.

"You've been accused of collaborating with traitors, Lady Yidhra," he continued. "If I don't make it look like I'm doing my job, it will be harder for you to do yours."

 

[Yidhra]

“Ah.”

Her head dipped in a shallow nod. Extending an arm, the Sith gestured to another door on the other side of the room. “Please. Join me, [member="Darth Osano"].”

If his accusation bothered her, the sorceress showed nothing for it. The shadow of a smile remained affixed to her pale red features, lingering like some kind of half-starved spectre. It wasn’t a particularly pretty sight – it wasn’t meant to be.

With the wave of a hand she bid the gate to open and led him down a corridor, this one devoid of instruments, machinery, or holodisplays. There was a strict line drawn between her scientific and Sithly life. Her guests, few as they were, rarely enjoyed the sight of diagrams describing the inner workings of certain species down to the very last excruciating detail.

“And what, pray tell, is my job?”

 

[Darth Osano]

Darth Osano followed [member="Yidhra"] into a comparatively barren corridor. Not the most jarring change of setting, but the sudden silence after the distinct humming of holodisplays and the whirring noises of distant machinery was palpable. He followed a few paces behind Yidhra, as most people were wise to do when being led around by Sith sorceresses with something terrible to hide. "I was hoping you would tell me." He replied, tone even. In addition to obscuring his identity, the mask he wore seemed to include a voice modulator. It sounded harsh and synthetic.

"One of your underlings bumped into mine. He made some requests for help," he continued to explain. "Beyond promises of seizing power and enriching this world in particular, it was vague. His choice of wording was somewhat alarming."

He stopped at the door Yidhra had led them to.

"Maybe you could put an end to such concerns."

 

[Yidhra]

“An underling? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Pureblood cooed, voice as soft as blade in the gut.

With the flick of a wrist, the gates slid open, and Yidhra led the other Sith inside. ‘Inside’, in this case, was a spacious salon, with a warm, real fire crackling in a wide hearth. Two plush armchairs fashioned from Wira Siqsa leather glinted red in the low light. The flames licked up just high enough to brighten the walls of the room – except not a single square inch of the stonework was visible. With an efficiency bordering on obsession, shelves of books, datapads, and holocrons stood packed against the walls. A keen eye could even make a few titles out despite the dark. An educated mind would be impressed.

“Sit,” Yidhra intoned, assuming a seat herself. “Even if I did employ some sort of network— I could hardly be held accountable for the inferior speech patterns of our lessers, could I?” She smiled, razor-thin, and held a carafe of something dark and viscous to the light.

“A drink?”

The Sorceress poured one for herself, settling back against the leather with a glass topped with the liquid. “Regardless, you inquired after my job, and I will tell you then that I have none. I do, however, have a purpose. It is to see this,” she gestured to the planet, the Empire, the galaxy, “bettered.”

“I feel it is my duty to ensure our order is led by a steady hand and an incisive mind. Would you not agree, [member="Darth Osano"]?”

 

[Darth Osano]

"I prefer to stand," Darth Osano returned. He came to a halt just behind the offered chair, still across from where [member="Yidhra"] had sat herself. He rested one armored hand on the head of the chair.

Most would have found the soulless stare of Osano's mask somewhat disquieting. The eyes were a bleak void, though a dull reddish color burned a low light in those depths. Yidhra was nonplussed, of course. People with an extra eye set in the forehead and who dealt with mooks in such masks on a regular basis were somewhat immunized to such displays. Commoners were not. And that was who the whole show really was for in the end, wasn't it? Couldn't scare everyone, but you could scare most of them.

She offered him a drink. Maleagant decided that if he was going to let himself get poisoned, he wouldn't make it that easy. "No," He said, tone flat. He sounded almost annoyed. Then he listened quite carefully to what she had to say in relation to her line of work. More vagueness, particularly with the gesture. Those with their minds set on treason rarely were forward-speaking. Otherwise the treason didn't get far.

"I do not agree that it is your duty." If her voice was a blade in the gut, suddenly Maleagant's was the crack of a whip. "Does our Empire not already benefit from the steady hand and incisive mind of his Grace, the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Carnifex?"

Oh, how he loathed to speak such platitudes. If she could only see the bile that rose up in his throat with such a meaningless statement. Yes, the steady hand and incisive mind of a Zambrano. Comprable only, perhaps, to the steady hand of a victim of the Shaking Palsy during an earthquake; the incisive and rational mind of a womp rat on fire. Don't make me laugh.

 

[Yidhra]

Three amused eyes danced behind her glass as she tipped it to her lips. The drink slid cool and smooth down her throat. Though its real value was, as ever, in the time it afforded her. Collecting one’s thoughts, picking one’s words – all crucial elements in this game they played.

But oh, she did so appreciate a competent adversary. Two of the eyes batted, lazy derision conveyed by that minute gesture. Or, perhaps… an ally.

It remained to be seen.

“I was not here to decide,” came her murmured reply, later, as she set down her beverage. And if she were, the man would not have been her choice. Certainly not first, and unlikely even a third. He was human, after all. If she were of a softer heart, Yidhra would pity the him for his faults and shortcomings – perhaps even forgive him.

But Lady Dottash had carved her way to the top through kin and alien alike, and she had no intention of stopping now. “That is a question you are much more equipped to answer yourself, [member="Darth Osano"] –”

“Does it?”

 

[Darth Osano]

Osano sniffed somewhat contemptuously. "Would I be a leading member of the Inquisition if I were not willing to maintain that it does?"

What a strange choice of words. Most Sith were strange, though. Considering all those spooky masks, third eyes, and other such clichéd and horrible physical deformities. An indirect non-answer was certainly not the strangest thing Maleagant had done in the last forty-eight hour period. Not when he was tossing bones into the green fire to forecast the future, not when he communed with the Netherworld, feeding off the anger of the Dornic dead and striking bargains with foul spirits whose mere names could invoke madness. Or indigestion, depending on the spirit. Colorful bunch.

"No, you were not here," he continued. "You aligned with the Resurgence. You fled here only after they collapsed."

A pause, followed by, "You can see why some would suspect your loyalty to be... Nebulous."

Maleagant wondered, briefly, whether or not [member="Yidhra"] had any dealings with Vrak Nashar. Would he have ever told her there was a most high-placed mole in the rival Ascendancy? Would he have revealed that mole's identity? If she did know, would she have laughed with contempt to hear him say this? No, that was the wrong question. How long would she have laughed for? Probably hysterically, one might add. Hypocrisy was among one of the easiest things to do in pursuit of vengeance. Maleagant had done worse and would continue, quite eagerly, to further plunge such depths.

Such was his grim necessity.

 

[Yidhra]

Her laughter was the patter of a thousand insect feet upon a carcass. Or some other appropriately gross comparison, really. Whatever [member="Darth Osano"] would find more gut-wrenching was fine by Yidhra.

“ ‘Willing to maintain’ says nothing of your belief in it,” she cooed, tipping her chin as if she were scolding a child.

“You insult me, Osano, and all of us with it. My loyalty, ever and always, lies with the Sith. Is it not time we rose above the petty squabbles of ‘whose robe design goes better with wholesale slaughter’?” She paused, glancing down at her drink for a moment. “I put my strength and intellect behind those I thought more capable of bringing our Order to the galaxy once again – and are we not all fallible, Maleagant?”

Three yellow eyes bore through the darkness of his hood and mask, lined with triumphant malice. “So fallible, indeed, to try and collect a bounty on a Pureblood Sith Lord. Would you have me mock you for your failings as you do mine, or would you rather we both build upon them?”

 

[Darth Osano]

“ ‘Willing to maintain’ says nothing of your belief in it,”

Maleagant scoffed at that, then gave a low and annoyed growl. "You fail to see the futility of asking in the first place."

His grip tightened considerably on the head of the chair. Darth Osano was not nearly as temperamental as other Sith Lords. That didn't mean he never got angry, of course. He was constantly angry. And right now he was the angriest he had been in weeks. If his grip dug in any deeper the fabric would have torn, but Osano's fury was tempered in the crucible of patience. You had to have patience to build an intergalactic criminal syndicate from the ground up, had to have patience establishing the Eye of Truth as a formidable intelligence agency. Had to be patient with an impudent crimson triclops. Such was his lot in life.

Whenever he considered doing away with his patience, he imagined Kaine Zambrano, perched upon mountains of corpses hewn and hacked to bits. Not for any particular purpose. Sport and psychotic rage. There was still a fine line between himself and the abyss he stared into on a regular basis. Darth Osano intended to keep it that way, if only for posterity; to prove he was better.

"That bounty was collected successfully," he corrected [member="Yidhra"] , voice level but still dripping with venom. Patient didn't necessarily mean humble. "Had I been the one charged with imprisoning, he would have been a lobotomite. Frozen in carbonite and lost to time. Buried in a mountain. There would be no rescue. Talk to Pyne of her failures."

So he liked to think. That bit about the mountain was no hyperbole. Could have, should have, would have. This conversation aside, Nashar's release had ultimately worked in his benefit.

"What else is it that you know about me?"

 

[Yidhra]

Yidhra bore out his tirade with a quaint smile, whirling the viscous liquid around her glass. To have his hackles so easily prickled – oh, this man reminded her of the beasts who’d been made into these chairs. Fierce, defensive… snapping jaws full of little teeth.

The drink cooled her throat again as she mulled on her answer.

Her laughter was the shards of glass under a heavy boot. “Whether the mistake was yours or not, does it matter? – you’re the one who’s paying for it.” A beat. “And Pyne will get what’s coming to her, I’ve no doubt.”

“Now who’s asking futile questions, Osano?” Mirthless yellow eyes held his gaze.

Depositing the empty tumbler on the table, the sorceress rose to her feet.

“I know enough.”

 

[Darth Osano]

Silence.

It was not often that Osano found himself argued into a corner. This was generally the point where a different kind of person would fly into a rage, maybe smash a few things. Instead Maleagant just burned with indignity. Maybe some shame and embarrassment for good measure. Here he was, the High Inquisitor of the Eye being made a mockery of. Good thing those Justiciars had waited outside. He made no move even as she rose from her seat, hollow eyes staring straight through.

"You forget your place here," he intoned. "Unless you have any more statements to make to assure me and the Lord Inquisitor of your loyalty or usefulness, I think I will be going."

Maleagant did not understand what angered him more. The possibility that she was ignorant of the imbalance of power in this meeting or that she was perfectly aware and just did not care. Maleagant had no concept of such callous disregard. His whole life had been one cautious step after another, careful not to be crushed underfoot by giants. This one traipsed where she liked. Oblivious or carefree.

Maybe now was the time she was crushed for it.

 

[Yidhra]

The aurodium jewelry on her tendrils jingled as she curled them in triumphant satisfaction. Words could be a weapon as pointed as the tip of a blade – and their cut much subtler. Not that the Sorceress of Athiss had much choice in the matter. Her skill with the former could be compared to the skill an infant larvae possessed at deciphering tomes written in the sacred Kissai hieroglyphic of High Sith.

Which is to say, she was more likely to injure herself than cause any significant harm to others. So Yidhra had stopped trying, and took up the arms that suited her well.

“Then consider this a statement of assurance that I am both loyal and useful to the Sith cause,” the Pureblood replied easily, face already sunk into shadows beyond fire’s reach. Only the three glowing yellow eyes remained.

“Raekkar will bear you gifts that no Empire has seen in a thousand years, [member="Darth Osano"].”

And her smile.

“I trust you will find your way out.”

Though if by the grace of her whim or his own wit, he would never know.

 

[Darth Osano]

"Very convincing," Osano said, sounding both bitter and annoyed. "Allow me to preempt Raekkar's gifts with one of my own."

Maleagant already intended to order infiltrators into Raekkar. He did not care what levels they wormed themselves into or if they got themselves killed in the spying process, he needed boots on the ground and he could clearly not depend on [member="Yidhra"] to be forthcoming with anything but sass and scathing witticisms. Normally he would have been content with just that, but now he was sufficiently incensed enough that he wanted to actually inconvenience her. Not in any meaningful way, obviously. If she was really of a mind for treason, he had no intentions of stopping anything.

He just wanted to be a bother now.

"I will be dispatching a Justiciar Major and his underlings to serve under you directly. Four men in total. They will answer to you. Since you are loyal, I have no doubt that they will be put to good work. It would disappoint the Lord Inquisitor and I greatly if our personnel were to be... Misused." Or killed under suspicious circumstances. Osano would find out if she so much as touched a hair on their heads. He always did. Such were his ways, but all that went without saying. Osano continued to explain, "This Justiciar Major in particular is something of a loyalist. To me, anyway. Keep him informed of your activities and I'm sure you'll be fine."

Maleagant bowed congenially and turned to exit, speaking as he went. "You can expect them in two days."

They would arrive tomorrow.