“SIS has investigated this option before,” Marcus said. “We couldn’t find a way to make it work.”
“This isn’t going to be an SIS op,” Jace told him. “I want a joint mission with the full cooperation of the military, the Jedi, and SIS.”
“SIS is at your disposal,” the Director assured him, though inside he was skeptical. Joint missions were great in theory, but in practice they tended to become turf wars as the different agencies fought to take all the credit and shift all the blame.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Jace said. “But this is too big for anyone to handle alone. The only way to pull this off is to work together.”
The Supreme Commander stood and came around from behind the desk, moving quickly. He seized Marcus’s shoulders with his massive hands, his steel grip just short of being painful. Leaning forward, he brought his face in close. His unblinking eyes seemed to bore deep into the Director, as if Jace was seeking out the depths of his heart and mind.
“Don’t tell me what I want to hear,” he insisted. “I believe we can do this, and I need you to believe it, too. Are you with me, Marcus? Really, truly with me?”
“I’m with you, Commander,” the Director vowed, his reservations swept away by the Supreme Commander’s raw intensity and conviction.
“Good man,” Jace said, patting him on the shoulders as he released his grip and stood up. “I knew I could count on you.”
He made his way back around to the other side of the desk and settled back into his chair.
“I’m sending you everything I have on the Spear and Darth Karrid,” Jace told him. “Classified reports from every military engagement the Spear’s been involved in, confidential evaluations prepared by Karrid’s trainers and the Masters at the Jedi academy. Everything. Study it all in detail and send me a list of agents you’d recommend for this job. I want those dossiers by next week.”
“Yes, sir,” Marcus said.
“Remember—this is our top priority,” Jace said. “The Ascendant Spear is the single biggest threat to the Republic, our fleets and our citizens. I intend to destroy it, and I want you to tell me how.”
CHAPTER 6
“THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!” Darth Ravage exclaimed. “Malgus was a traitor who tried to usurp the Emperor’s throne! Now you expect us to grant his apprentice a seat on the Dark Council?”
Darth Marr, senior-ranking member of the Dark Council, refused to respond in kind to Ravage’s aggressive outburst. Instead, he carefully gauged the reactions of the six other members who had gathered in the meeting chamber deep inside the Emperor’s Citadel on Dromund Kaas. Unlike Ravage, they remained calm, though from their expressions it was clear they shared his reservations.
“No one of us can make demands on the others,” Marr assured them. “But I will remind you that Darth Karrid turned her back on Malgus when he turned his back on us. And Darth Hadra’s untimely demise has left the Sphere of Technology vacant. All I’m asking is that you consider her as a candidate for the position.”
“She’s a Falleen,” Darth Mortis objected. Darth Rictus, the oldest member of the Council, nodded to show he shared Mortis’s opinion.
Marr fought back the urge to rail against their bigotry. Malgus had overreached when he tried to proclaim himself the new Emperor, but he was right about one thing: If the Empire wanted to defeat the Republic, they could no longer cling to their overt prejudice against lesser species. Keeping entire worlds subjugated put too great a strain on Imperial military resources; it was far more efficient to try and enlist them as willing allies in the war against the Republic.
But Marr knew arguments would only push the already fragile Dark Council toward a complete schism. Now was not the time for infighting. The Republic had them in retreat across the galaxy; a united front was their only hope of survival. Defense of the Empire was his official Sphere of Influence, so it fell to him to bridge the divides among his fellow Council members.
“Our numbers dwindle,” Marr reminded them. “We need allies. Elevating a Falleen to the Council shows other species that there is a place for them in our Empire.”
“Perhaps the problem is that the other species have forgotten their proper place,” Mortis replied.
“Well played, Mortis,” Darth Vowrawn chimed in, letting his words hang in the air for a dramatic moment before adding, “Yet we should not dismiss Darth Karrid so quickly.”
Marr had been hoping for Vowrawn’s support. A pure-blooded Sith who reveled in the courtly intrigue, sly politics, and unbridled hedonism of the Imperial nobility, he was also responsible for the Production and Logistics Sphere of Influence. He knew numbers better than anyone; the Republic had more soldiers, more resources, and more allies than the Empire, and if the Empire couldn’t recruit more worlds to its side it was going to lose.
“Darth Karrid has proven herself quite valuable to our war effort,” Vowrawn reminded them all. “Without her our situation would be untenable, rather than just precarious.”
Darth Ravage grunted, unconvinced. “You’re giving the credit to her, when we all know it should really go to the ship. Any one of us could have her success if we controlled the Ascendant Spear.”
“And therein lies the problem,” Vowrawn continued. “We don’t control it. She does. And I doubt she’ll hand it over to you just because you ask.”
“The ship is part of the equation,” Marr admitted. “Darth Mekhis controlled the Technology Sphere when she developed the Ascendant Spear. There is some logic in giving the portfolio to the one who now controls the last of her creations.”
“Are you scared of her?” Darth Rictus asked, ending his question with a gleeful cackle.
Marr ignored the question, refusing to rise to the old man’s bait.
“I’m willing to consider other candidates for the seat,” he continued. “If any of you has a worthy suggestion.”
“Darth Gravus,” Mortis offered, and there was a general murmur of assent from the rest of the group.
Inwardly, Marr cringed. It wasn’t that Gravus wasn’t suitable for the position. The Dark Lord had proven his worth by successfully undermining the Republic campaign to restore the devastated world of Taris. But Gravus was a link to the old ways. Ambitious and ruthless, he had earned many influential allies in the upper echelons of Imperial society … and just as many enemies. Bringing him into the Council would open the door for more infighting as old grudges would be rekindled, and it would do nothing to convince other species to join the Imperial cause. Worst of all, his selection was sure to anger Darth Karrid. Fortunately, Gravus’s victory on Taris had been overshadowed when his fleets lost control of the mineral-rich world of Leritor, a costly setback for the Empire.
“Gravus failed to keep the Republic at bay in the Mid Rim,” he reminded them.
“He has fallen back to Bothawui to regroup,” Mortis replied. “Soon he will launch a counteroffensive and reclaim Leritor for the Empire.”
“If he is successful, then I can see no reason to oppose him as a candidate,” Marr grudgingly admitted.
“Then we are all in agreement,” Mortis pushed. “Once Leritor is back under Imperial control, Gravus should be given a seat on the Dark Council and control over the Technology Sphere.”
Marr spoke quickly, before anyone else could interject. “I said I wouldn’t oppose Gravus as a candidate,” he said, his voice firm. “He should be considered. As should Karrid. We should take some time to think about both candidates before we make a final decision.”
“Once again we are all humbled by your wisdom, Darth Marr,” Vowrawn said, his voice hovering on the line between sincerity and mockery. “I propose we adjourn this meeting so we can all ponder this very important decision.”
As the members of the Dark Council left the room, Marr could only imagine how Darth Karrid would react when she heard the news. He decided it would be best if he told her himself.
It took less than twenty minutes for Marr’s private shuttle to whisk him away from
the Citadel to the private landing pad at his personal stronghold on the outskirts of Kaas City. An honor guard of half a dozen Imperial soldiers in full armor stood smartly at attention as he strode down the boarding ramp, and a pair of bowing servants dressed in his personal colors opened the massive doors leading from the landing pad to the interior chambers.
Part domicile, part fortress, the stronghold’s halls were busy with household staff and military personnel scurrying to and fro, each tending to their respective duties. They bowed or saluted appropriately as Marr passed, his long strides taking him directly to the communications room.
“Put me in contact with Darth Karrid,” he told the officer in charge.
“At once, my Lord,” she told him, then barked out a quick series of orders to her three-person staff.
Marr would have preferred to deliver the details of the Dark Council’s meeting to Karrid in person, but time was of the essence. He wanted to speak with her before she heard the whispers and rumors of what had happened so he could mitigate her reaction.
“The Ascendant Spear has received our signal, Darth Marr,” the officer confirmed. “Decryption may take a few seconds.”
Marr nodded, knowing there was no possible way any of the other members of the Council—or anyone from the Republic—could overhear what was about to be said. Even if they somehow intercepted the signal he was transmitting, it would be impossible to decode without a black cipher, the Empire’s encryption device.
Developed by Imperial Intelligence before the organization collapsed, the black ciphers were the most advanced encryption machines ever devised. Apart from the ones installed on the Empire’s fifteen largest capital ships—including the Ascendant Spear—there were only two others: one in the office of the Imperial Minister of Logistics, and one in Darth Marr’s possession.
The holoimage flickered and materialized before him as the cipher unscrambled the incoming return signal to reveal Darth Karrid. Her bright emerald skin and long black hair—some gathered in a topknot, some flowing down her back—were muted by the blue-tinged holosignal. She had high, prominent cheekbones, a flawless complexion, and a sharp, well-proportioned nose and chin. But there was a vaguely disconcerting reptilian hint to her exotic features, particularly around her cold, dead eyes. And in Karrid’s case the exquisite symmetrical perfection so common to her species was marred by the prominent tattoos and cybernetic implants that completely covered the left side of her face.
“Darth Marr,” she said by way of greeting. “I was expecting your call.”
From the holo, Marr recognized that she had relayed his incoming signal to the seclusion of her private command pod deep inside the Ascendant Spear. The complex network of biomechanical interfaces that allowed Karrid to become one with Darth Mekhis’s marvelous warship framed her image: dozens of long, thin wires snaking out from the walls and ceiling and into the back of Karrid’s neck and skull.
“Leave us,” Marr commanded, and the communications officer and her staff vanished from the room.
“You spoke with the other members of the Dark Council?” Karrid asked once they were alone.
“The ones that matter,” Marr said.
“And what was their reaction?”
“They agreed that you are a strong candidate,” Marr said, choosing his words carefully. “But there are some who expressed concerns.”
“Who?” Karrid demanded, her face twisting in anger. “Ravage? That old fool, Rictus?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Marr explained. “The Council must reach a consensus to bring in a new member.”
“Is it because I’m Falleen?”
“There are other concerns,” Marr said, evading the question. “You were Malgus’s apprentice for many years; his actions will always color your reputation.”
“Malgus was a traitor,” Karrid spat out, her bright green skin taking on a reddish hue reflecting her heightened emotional state. “But I have done more to support the Imperial war effort than anyone!”
“Those of us who have dedicated our lives in the service of the Dark Council might disagree,” Marr replied coldly.
“I meant no disrespect, Darth Marr,” Karrid said, her voice slipping into a seductive purr.
Marr knew her reaction was instinctual; the Falleen had evolved overtly sensual mannerisms as a survival mechanism for the species. Marr was smart enough to recognize and dismiss the subtle feelings of arousal her voice triggered in him, but individuals of most humanoid species found it hard to resist the Falleen charms.
“I have proven my loyalty to the Empire countless times,” Karrid continued, pleading her case. “I did not think the Council would simply cast me aside.”
“You have not been cast aside,” he assured her. “You are still a candidate. But there are others.”
“Who?”
Marr hesitated, then decided she would eventually find out anyway. “Darth Gravus.”
“Gravus?” she hissed. “So Mortis is behind this; he and Gravus are thick as thieves.”
“Mortis supports Gravus,” Marr admitted, “but so do many other members of the Council. His work on Taris shows that he would do well in charge of the Technology Sphere.”
“The Empire claims to be a meritocracy,” Karrid said. “We punish failure and reward success. I have only victories to my name, but Gravus lost Leritor to the Republic. How can the Council prefer him over me?”
“Gravus is planning to recapture Leritor,” Marr said. “But even if he succeeds, the decision is not final,” he added, hoping to mollify her. “You will both be considered for the position.”
“So there is still a chance,” Karrid replied, seizing on the thin strand of hope. She brought a delicate hand up to her lips as she contemplated the possibility of victory.
“Assuming he can defeat the Republic fleet over Leritor, most of the Council will probably support Gravus,” Marr cautioned, not wanting her to get her hopes too high only to have them dashed.
“And what about you, Marr?” she asked, her voice slipping once more into the seductive purr.
“I would prefer the position go to you,” Marr assured her. “In the long run you can be of more value to the Empire than Gravus. But I will not risk tearing the Dark Council apart by challenging the others if they back him.”
“So you will not fight for me?”
“We must choose our battles wisely,” he reminded her. “Sometimes it is better to be patient.”
“I have been patient,” she answered, her expression a sensual pout.
“There are other seats on the Council. Other Spheres of Influence that need to be filled. Gravus may be the leading candidate, but you are next in line.”
There was a long pause before Karrid nodded her acceptance.
“I understand, Darth Marr. Even though we are allies, I cannot expect you to fight this battle on my behalf.”
Marr felt a great sense of relief, though he was careful not to show his reaction. Part of him had feared Karrid might react with blind rage at being passed over. If she turned against the Empire, the Ascendant Spear would cripple the Imperial fleet, paving the way for a quick and certain Republic victory in the war.
“Your time will come,” Marr assured her. “It is inevitable.”
“At least we agree on something,” she said with a smile.
CHAPTER 7
THERON PUNCHED THE COMLINK of his small shuttle, opening a hailing frequency with the control tower at one of the hundreds of spaceports on Coruscant’s surface.
“This is Sojourner, requesting landing clearance.”
“Copy that, Sojourner. Transmit ship registration for authentication.”
“Transmitting.”
There was a longer pause than usual on the other end of the comlink before the voice replied, “Sojourner, you need to reroute to another spaceport. Sending coordinates now.”
Theron didn’t bother to protest; he knew what was going on.
Guess I should have called the Director after tha
t mess on Nar Shaddaa.
“Understood,” he said, not bothering to look at the new coordinates. He already knew exactly where they would order him to go.
“A security escort is awaiting your arrival,” the tower added.
“I bet they are,” he answered, disconnecting the call.
As he brought the ship in to land, Theron noticed two men wearing Coruscant Security Force uniforms standing by a waiting speeder. He doubted they were actually part of the official planetwide security force. The Director wouldn’t involve a civilian organization unless he had to, and it was common for SIS personnel to adopt the uniforms of local authorities when they were expecting trouble but wanted to avoid drawing extra attention.
“Theron Shan?” one of the men said as he climbed out of his shuttle.
“What if I say no?”
“Don’t cause any trouble,” the other warned. “The Director’s not in the mood.”
Theron briefly thought about making a move. It wasn’t that he was actually worried about what the Director had planned, but he was eager to test himself against the two agents sent to bring him in. But in the end, he realized he was being foolish. The agents were just following orders; no need to hurt somebody.
“We’re all on the same side here,” he assured them.
The ride to SIS headquarters was conducted in complete silence. Theron’s escorts appeared calm and relaxed, but he could tell they were watching him closely the entire way. Upon landing, they led him into the building, one marching in front of him, the other behind. They didn’t break formation until they reached the Director’s office.
One of the men reached out and pressed the buzzer on the door. In response it slid open and the Director called out, “I’ll take it from here.”
Theron gave each of his guards a cheery wave and stepped into the room. As the door slid shut behind him, the Director looked up from behind his desk and shook his head.
“Care to tell me why I shouldn’t have you court-martialed for physically assaulting a fellow agent?”
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