The Old Republic Series

by Sean Williams

  Scourge let the hand drop from his weapon. Now was not the time to settle this. But it was one more thing Sechel would answer for once he finally got a chance to speak with him alone.

  “What did you find?”

  “A recording of a recent communication,” Sechel answered, pressing a button on the terminal.

  A ghostly blue, three-dimensional image crackled into being, hovering a few centimeters above the holocomm. The frozen image was slightly under a meter in height, a perfect miniature of the speaker.

  “Darth Xedrix,” Scourge gasped.

  “Most of the call was already erased by the cleaner program,” Sechel explained. “But I was able to save this.”

  He hit another button and the recording began to play. It was obviously damaged; the image flickered in and out of focus, and the audio was plagued by bursts of static that cut off much of what was said.

  “… latest failed attempt …” Xedrix said, his voice thin and crackling. “Nyriss is dangerous, and must not be … keep allegiances hidden … stop the Emperor … madness must end …”

  “Can you get anything more?” Scourge asked.

  “Not here,” Sechel answered. “Give me enough time and the proper equipment and I should be able to come up with plenty.”

  “Tell your team to load up every terminal and datafile they find,” Scourge instructed Murtog. “Nyriss won’t be pleased if we leave something important behind.”

  Sechel didn’t say anything, but the grin on his face spoke volumes.

  NYRISS’S PERSONAL SLAVE GREETED them at the front door as the three arrived back at the palace.

  “My mistress received your message,” she said to Scourge. “She wishes to speak to you at once.”

  “Get started on those datafiles as soon as Murtog’s team finishes unloading them,” he said to Sechel.

  “Forgive me, my lord,” the young Twi’lek said, her voice trembling slightly. “Darth Nyriss wants to speak to all three of you.”

  Scourge glanced from the slave to Sechel and Murtog, wondering if they knew anything more than he did. They only shrugged.

  “Let’s go,” Scourge said with a brisk nod.

  The Twi’lek turned and led them down the now-familiar corridors to Darth Nyriss’s personal chamber. As she always did, the slave knocked once on the door and waited for acknowledgment from within.

  “Enter,” Nyriss called.

  The slave opened the door and slipped to the side to allow Scourge, Murtog, and Sechel to crowd into the small room where Nyriss sat at her computer terminal, looking as if she hadn’t moved since the last time Scourge had seen her there. She flicked off the terminal, spun in her chair, and stood up.

  “Is it true?” she asked, not even bothering to greet them. “Is Darth Xedrix a traitor to the Empire?”

  “We found a recording of a call from him at the separatist base,” Sechel said. “They were obviously working with him.”

  Despite the compelling evidence, Scourge wasn’t fully convinced. Xedrix was human, which didn’t sit well with some of the Sith pureblood families in the nobility of the Empire. Yet whatever petty prejudices he had endured in his life were insignificant compared with all he had achieved.

  Darth Xedrix was the longest-serving member of the Dark Council, having joined a full decade before Nyriss. He had risen to the penultimate position in the Empire, and while Scourge could understand his desire to eliminate Nyriss or other potential rivals, it was hard to imagine that he would be bold enough to challenge the immortal, all-powerful Emperor.

  “Xedrix’s betrayal makes no sense,” he said, feeling confident enough in his analysis of the situation to voice his opinion.

  “It makes perfect sense if you know the man as I do,” Nyriss assured him. “Xedrix is old and desperate. He knows his position has become vulnerable. Soon the Emperor will have no further use for him. In his arrogance, he thinks he can usurp the Emperor’s position and save himself. That is why he plotted with the separatists to assassinate me. He knows those of us currently on the Dark Council would oppose him in his bid for power. He seeks to replace us with new members who are weak and inexperienced. He thinks he will be able to manipulate them and seize control of the entire Council, so that they will follow him when he finally moves against the Emperor.”

  Her explanation made sense. He had seen firsthand how those in power became desperate when they sensed their positions were threatened.

  “It won’t be long before Darth Xedrix learns of the attack on Bosthirda,” Nyriss continued. “We must act quickly.”

  “I’m surprised the Emperor instructed you to deal with this,” Scourge remarked. “I’d have expected him to order the Imperial Guard to arrest Xedrix.”

  “The Emperor doesn’t know,” Nyriss said.

  “Darth Xedrix has allied himself with separatists,” Scourge insisted. “He’s a traitor to the Empire! It is our duty to report him.”

  “I don’t think that would be the best plan,” Sechel cautioned, ignoring Scourge and addressing Nyriss directly. “We have little evidence, and your rivalry with Xedrix is well known. If we come forward with these accusations, he will simply deny them. The Emperor is unlikely to act without first gathering more proof. This will give Xedrix a chance to cover up his involvement, or go into hiding.”

  “Sechel is right,” Nyriss said. “The element of surprise is our greatest advantage. Xedrix doesn’t know we have exposed his treachery. If we strike now, we can catch him unprepared.”

  It was obvious her mind was made up, and Scourge could follow the logic of her arguments. Yet he still felt uncomfortable not reporting Xedrix to the Emperor.

  “An assault on his stronghold will be difficult,” Murtog warned. “We don’t have the numbers to overwhelm his defenses, and I don’t like hiring mercenaries for a job like this. Too much chance one of them will sell us out to Xedrix.”

  “Perhaps assassination is the way to go,” Sechel suggested. “Do to him what he tried to do to you.”

  “We would need a particularly skilled and accomplished assassin,” Nyriss said. She looked at Scourge. “Do you think you can get close enough to Xedrix?”

  Scourge carefully considered all the variables before he replied. His first instinct was to propose an undercover operation, with him seeking a position on Xedrix’s personal staff. Over several weeks he could study the routines of his intended victim and all his servants, patiently waiting for a chance to catch him alone, unarmed and unprepared. But there were no Sith among Xedrix’s followers. Many Sith were prejudiced against humans. No doubt the Dark Councilor would never allow Sith too close to him, fearing they might one day turn on him.

  Scourge might be able to find some other way to infiltrate Xedrix’s inner circle, but as Nyriss had pointed out they needed to act quickly. There wasn’t time for a prolonged undercover mission.

  “Inside his stronghold he is untouchable,” he declared finally.

  “There may be a way to lure him out,” Sechel said. “The separatists seem to use coded communications whenever they contact Xedrix. If I can replicate the code, I can send a message requesting an urgent meeting at some remote location.”

  “An ambush might work,” Murtog agreed. “Xedrix won’t want to draw attention to his treachery. At most, he’ll have two or three of his most trusted followers with him. With enough troops we should be able to take him down.”

  “No,” Nyriss said, shaking her wizened head. “Xedrix would sense it coming. Whoever we send will have to hide his presence through the Force until Xedrix walks into the trap.”

  It was obvious whom she was referring to, but Scourge was still reluctant. “Asking me to kill a member of the Dark Council is not as simple as you make it sound.”

  “I did not expect you to balk at this task,” Nyriss said. “He has committed treason. He brought this on himself.”

  “You misunderstand,” Scourge said, choosing his words carefully. “The human traitor deserves to die. But he is a Dark Lor
d of the Sith. Alone, what chance will I have against him?”

  “I should have known,” Sechel said, grinning. “You’re afraid.”

  “Fighting a battle I can’t win isn’t brave,” Scourge shot back. “It’s stupid.”

  “At least you have the courage to speak your mind,” Nyriss said.

  “You already have enough sycophants,” Scourge replied, glaring at Sechel.

  Nyriss flashed one of her ghastly grins, sending a chill down Scourge’s spine. Somehow he kept himself from shuddering.

  “I think the two of us should continue this conversation privately,” she said.

  Sechel and Murtog bowed and left without a word. Scourge was pleased to see they were chastened by their sudden exclusion. Nyriss didn’t speak until the Twi’lek servant had closed the door behind them.

  “You are right to be cautious,” she said. “But you underestimate your own abilities.”

  Scourge’s thoughts jumped back to the slaughter at the separatist warehouse; he remembered the energy and exhilaration he’d felt. He could sense his power was growing. His connection to the dark side had never been stronger. But butchering poorly prepared soldiers was not the same as facing highly trained Sith. “Xedrix won’t come alone. He’ll have me outnumbered.”

  “Xedrix surrounds himself with acolytes of the dark side. Your talent will let you feed on their power and turn it against them. The greater your opponent’s connection to the Force, the stronger you become.”

  “Strong enough to kill a member of the Dark Council?”

  “Against me, you would stand no chance,” Nyriss replied. “But Xedrix is old and infirm. And he is human—they are a lesser species. Over the decades, the dark side has exacted too great a toll on his body. He is a hollow shell of what he once was. He holds on to his current position only because of his cunning. His followers obey him without question, too frightened of his reputation to see how age has ravaged his flesh and left him weak.”

  Nyriss paused, waiting for Scourge’s response. He wasn’t eager to offer one without carefully considering everything he had learned.

  He believed what Nyriss had told him about his own abilities: He had felt the truth of it in his most recent battles. But he wasn’t ready to trust her. If Xedrix was really as weak as she claimed, she wouldn’t need Scourge’s help to eliminate him.

  The truth was, Scourge wanted to kill Xedrix. It wasn’t just his loyalty to the Emperor, though he firmly believed the only fit punishment for treason was death. He wanted to test himself against a member of the Dark Council; he wanted to prove to himself and to Nyriss that he was worthy of this task. If Darth Xedrix fell to his hand, his name would be hailed and feared throughout the Empire. Nyriss would be indebted to him for eliminating her rival, and the Emperor would reward him for executing a traitor.

  It was unlikely he would be chosen to replace Xedrix on the Dark Council. Scourge was still too young, too unknown. He hadn’t forged the necessary political alliances or built up a cadre of servants and followers. Yet this would be a bold first step; it would make his name known in the halls of power. And when another vacancy opened on the Council down the road—in five years, or maybe ten—he would be the leading candidate.

  “Tell Sechel to set up the meeting,” he said.

  Nyriss smiled again, but this time Scourge didn’t find it so unnerving. Instead, he found himself wondering if it would be her he replaced when he finally ascended to his rightful position.

  CHAPTER 9

  REVAN STARED AT the flickering topographic map of Rekkiad on the Ebon Hawk’s navigation screens. The glacier-covered world had never been settled; no cities or villages dotted his screen. The scans revealed nothing but a frozen wasteland of ice and snow, stretching off for hundreds of kilometers in every direction.

  According to Canderous, the Mandalorians had set up a temporary landing field somewhere on the planet’s surface. The clans that had gathered on Rekkiad worked together to maintain and protect the vessels there; it was effectively neutral ground. Outside the landing field, however, each clan laid claim to its own territory—a claim they were willing to fight to defend.

  Neither Revan nor Canderous thought it was wise to take the Ebon Hawk to the communal landing strip. Outsiders weren’t welcome among the Mandalorians. Canderous figured they’d have better luck dealing directly with Clan Ordo, his own people.

  The original plan was to land within walking distance of Clan Ordo’s base camp and approach on foot. Using spaceports was rarely a preferred option for the kind of smugglers and miscreants who had owned the Ebon Hawk throughout its history, and many had installed customized upgrades to allow the ship to land in less-than-ideal conditions. But Revan doubted they had ever intended to visit a world as inhospitable as Rekkiad, and he was starting to have second thoughts.

  Gale-force winds hammered the ship’s hull, causing it to buck and lurch, and a blizzard of swirling snow and ice limited the range of the Hawk’s sensors. To get close enough for the topographic scan, Revan had to bring them in only a few hundred meters above the surface of the world—close enough that one wrong move could send them crashing into the surface.

  T3 beeped anxiously at Revan’s side, crowding the pilot’s chair as Revan fought to keep the ship level.

  “Get Canderous up here,” Revan barked. “Tell him to check those grid coordinates again.”

  The little astromech droid spun around and sped off in search of the third member of their crew.

  A gust of wind caused the ship to veer down and to the left. The safety restraints bit into Revan’s flesh as he jammed the throttle forward and yanked back on the stick, pulling the ship up out of a steep dive moments before it hit the ground.

  The ship veered off course, and suddenly a massive glacier jutting up from the planet’s frozen surface materialized on the nav display.

  Revan banked hard to avoid plowing into the wall of ice, but even the lightning-fast reactions of a Jedi couldn’t entirely overcome the Hawk’s momentum. The ship was spared a direct hit, but its underside clipped a sharp outcropping of ice.

  The impact sent the Hawk into a spiraling, twisting roll. Revan wrenched the stick from side to side, fighting for control. Using the Force, he was able to anticipate and react to the erratic flight with instantaneous precision adjustments, keeping the ship aloft until it regained its equilibrium.

  The immediate crisis averted, Revan took the Hawk up to a safer altitude and set the autopilot. Then he slumped in his chair and let out a long, low sigh. After a few seconds he straightened up, readjusted his restraint belts, and checked the instrument panel.

  A blinking red warning light confirmed his fears: the impact with the glacier had damaged the landing gear.

  Revan muttered a curse under his breath, just as a much louder string of profanity came from Canderous staggering into the cockpit. T3 rolled in after him, beeping indignantly.

  “You trying to smash us into gree pulp back there?” Canderous grumbled, plopping down into the copilot’s seat. “I thought you knew how to fly this rusted slag-heap.”

  “I thought you said Clan Ordo had set up a camp somewhere on this frozen rock,” Revan shot back. “Couldn’t see a blasted thing on those grid coordinates you gave me.”

  “Maybe they moved to another location,” Canderous said with a shrug. “Can’t have gone too far, though. Not in these conditions. Do a ground scan of the area and they’ll probably turn up.”

  “That’s what I was doing,” Revan replied through gritted teeth. “Turns out it’s a good way to get up close and personal with a glacier.”

  Canderous glanced over at the warning light. “That why that red light’s blinking?”

  “The landing gear got smashed up when we clipped the glacier.”

  “You couldn’t just fly around it?”

  Revan rolled his eyes.

  “Go down for another look,” Canderous advised after a few moments of strained silence. “Clan Ordo’s gotta be close by.”r />
  “Even if we find them, then what? You really expect me to bring the ship in on busted landing gear?”

  “You’re a smart guy,” Canderous answered, shifting to get comfortable in his seat. “You’ll think of something.”

  There wasn’t much point in continuing the argument, so Revan let it drop. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder at the recent change he’d noticed in Canderous.

  As long as he’d known the Mandalorian, he’d sensed an underlying tension in him. Like a soldier in enemy territory, he was always ready for a fight. As a Mandalorian, he was never fully accepted by those in the Republic, and he knew it.

  Now, however, he seemed different. He was still gruff and taciturn. But ever since they’d left Coruscant, he’d been less grim, more relaxed. He was eager to be back among his own people, and he wasn’t about to let a few minor setbacks like a missing camp or damaged landing gear stop him.

  To be fair, Revan had no intention of abandoning their quest, either. There was too much at stake to turn back. Which meant Canderous was right: the only real option was to keep looking for Clan Ordo’s camp and hope they got lucky.

  Revan brought the Hawk in low again, but this time he throttled it back to half speed. The swirling winds still made for a rough ride, but at least he’d have more time to react if something went wrong.

  “See if you can do something to give our sensors a boost,” he said to T3.

  The little astromech chirped with pleasure and extended a small probe from a panel in his side to interface directly with the Hawk’s systems.

  While T3 worked, Revan began a standard search pattern with the original coordinates for the camp at the center. Taking the Hawk around in ever-widening circles, he spiraled outward, letting the sensors scan the ground for signs of life. Suddenly T3 began beeping excitedly. Canderous leaned forward to look at the scanner’s display.