War Marshal Helix
Technological Terror
Helix was silent for a long time, not interjecting. There was a logic in it, much as he loathed to admit it at times. Nefaron's dislike of Strosius had been known to him since Woostri, and as far as he could tell the feeling was heartily mutual. The two could not be more diametrically opposed, in both method and ideology. It was difficult to imagine what else could hold them together, if not Malum.
Indeed, Nefaron had latched onto an uncomfortable truth with his remarks. Should Malum fail, his immediate underlings would become a seething pit of double-dealing and murder. Few could hold so disparate a band of misfits together, and keep them from dismembering each other long enough to get anything done. Malum was unquestionably one of those few.
This was a weakness in their command structure, but it was a weakness inherent in all hierarchies. Cut off the head of the snake, et cetera. The Sith were more prone to this than most. Little could force them to work together, save the threat of violence or the promise of shared benefit.
Helix was different. The plunder and raw materials were useful, true, but he could get those himself without any aid. He was in because he chose to be. Should Malum fall, he would simply latch onto the next promising source of galactic upheaval, albeit with some disappointment in the grinning void that passed for his heart. It grieved him to think of one with so much potential being stifled by the boot of the rotting, stagnant rulers above him. He'd seen it all too often.
He was not yet so eager to betray, at least not while the proverbial gravy train was still rolling. Nonetheless, he could see little harm in being prepared, should the worst happen.
He picked his next words with great care.
"If Malum falls..." he began, placing slightly more emphasis than necessary on the conditional hypothetical "...then I see things progressing much as you say. The Tsis'kaar are much like an interesting animal of my own little creation. So organized, such efficient predators. Until the pack alpha weakens or dies. The Sith as a whole respect only force or greed. Crude motivators, but facts are facts. When there is no one left to hold something over their heads, or placate them with resources..." he trailed off.
"As for Strosius, pragmatic is not a word in his vocabulary. He has his virtues, well-hidden though they may be. His gift for surviving time and time again against impossible odds, as you point out, is one such virtue. Compromise is not, and I suspect it will be the death of him one day. Eventually, one of his numerous enemies will tire of his antics. Perhaps the Emperor, perhaps Carnifex, perhaps the Council. Perhaps you."
"I do find turning on him to be unpleasant. My list of allies is not a long one, and few among them possess such single-minded fanaticism. Fanaticism is a funny thing, dear Nefaron. It can switch targets without warning, rhyme, or reason. Still, I... have considered one day, that it may be my turn in the crosshairs of his crusading armies. Such is the way of things. If I expected trustworthiness, I would extend my services to the Diarchs or the Alliance. Every Sith is a ticking time bomb of treachery. That is arguably the Order's greatest strength. Helps keep everyone sharp-eyed and wards against complacency of thought or action."
He gave an unpleasant, rapid-fire scraping noise at the mention of differing viewpoints, and that whisper-thin, jagged-edged maw formed on his faceplate for an instant. Perhaps an expression of amusement? "Respectfully, Lord Nefaron, everyone in the Sith believes one form of nonsense or another that I do not agree with. Occasionally, it is advantageous. Differing perspectives offer differing insights, insights that have been useful to me more than once. Complex as my cognitive abilities are, I am not omniscient. Very close, but not quite there. I am not yet so insecure in my power that I dispatch a useful ally just for holding foolish ideas about the inherent dignity of organic life."
"I believe we may readily dismiss any worries of Strosius ruling the Tsis'kaar, at least insofar as it would affect you or I. While he does not lack for the charisma and force of personality needed to rule it with an iron fist, he lacks Malum's diplomatic touch. To be blunt, he would not last the week. The queue to take his head would wrap around the sector twice. Say what you will about Malum, but few possess the deviousness necessary to survive at the head of a collection of artisan murderers for long. For most, their lives would not be worth five minutes' purchase in such a place."
"No doubt you have such a successor in mind. I do believe your concerns are valid, and Malum himself would doubtless wish to see that his organization survived if he were to perish." Helix tapped the tip of his beak with a finger, in an exaggerated pantomime of thoughtfulness.
He did not quite share Nefaron's loathing for the young Marr, or for Strosius, but Helix had no intention of going down with any ship, if it sank. Personal grudges aside, the disfigured ghoul that sat before him was correct. He was a monster much like Helix himself, very used to scurrying off of said sinking ships and living to see another day. "Very well. Your logic is sound. Provided, of course, that your hypothetical puppet ruler can be relied on."
