"Behold the politician's gift: a million words left their mouth, yet they have said nothing."
If I ever got the chance, I was going to give Darth Angral a firm shake of the hand before dumping radioactive plutonium into his tea. The latter should require no explanation, being the most reasonable reaction to a man deciding mass murder on a planetary scale was the appropriate reaction to his poorly thought-out scheme getting his only child killed. The former though? A firm handshake?
Really?
Really.
The sudden emergence of a galaxy-level threat to the peace of the Cold War was the perfect excuse for me to leave the Combine of Zyg. Of course, I could have left at any point prior to that bit of news; I had a dreadnought in orbit, after all, who was going to stop me? Of course, abandoning my post without a very good excuse would have invited attacks on the competence of the Sphere of Expansion and Diplomacy.
Attacks that would have only benefitted the war hawks in the Empire.
But who was I to look a gift excuse in the mouth? Then again, it was a gift. Depending on the language, that could just as easily be a present as a poison. For the sake of my own mental health, I decided it was a present and set a course for Dromund Kaas. It left me with a few hours to figure out what I would do next. Fortunately, that meant I had most of a plan in my head by the time I reached my destination.
Unfortunately, by the time I reached low orbit above Dromund Kaas, I learned that my presence had been expected. One of the bridge officers had called me into the bridge and then directed me to an ancillary communication pod in a far corner of the bridge. It was little more than a round table at chest height surrounded my consoles that seemed excessive just for placing a call, but just perfect for a modicum of privacy. And above that table floated a familiar figure.
"Nestor," the miniature hologram of Darth Lega greeted me with what I judged to be genuine courtesy. Then again, he was a legitimate and properly trained diplomat. I was a distraction whose training was a polite fiction. "I trust you have a very good excuse for abandoning your post?"
Oh, he sounded upset.
"I decided that formulating a collective and coherent response to Darth Angral's message to the galaxy would be a far better use of my time than a mission that was doomed to failure." Were it not for the fact that this call was taking place aboard the relative safety of the Inexpugnable Annihilator, I might have been a bit more careful with my words. Fortunately, I was not, so I spoke just a bit more freely.
"Doomed to failure?" the Darth repeated, his tone curious. Or a reasonable copy thereof. Diplomats were a pain to read, especially when their audio channel was more than a little bit crushed. "That is an unusually pessimistic stance from you. Did something happen in the Combine?"
"On Zyg Prime, almost every single notable I was set to meet was killed before I had a chance to speak with them," I said. "I had no desire to see if this pattern would repeat on Zyg Aurek or on Greater Zyg. More importantly, a display of apathy, a lack of a central response, would send entirely the wrong message."
And there was the key component of my plan to survive the next six hours: distract my boss.
"You want the galaxy to believe we care."
"I want the galaxy to know I am doing all I can to keep the peace- that I am not the only one who is trying to keep the peace," I corrected, hesitating before continuing. "… I'm not the only one, am I?"
"Rest assured, Nestor, the Sith Empire will put out a statement that we condemn the actions of Darth Angral in the strongest possible terms."
Oh, good. That was sure to change things.
"Darth Lega, he declared a one-man war on the Republic and the Jedi Order," I pointed out.
"And he will not have the support of the Sith Empire when he does so," he said calmly. "It's right here in this statement Darth Ravage is going to deliver to Imperial News Network in the next hour or so. Besides, he has a single Harrower with none of the logistics to maintain it. It is not so great a crisis."
"We both know that ship is going to keep flying as though nothing happened," I deadpanned.
"Consider it a testament to what a single determined Sith Lord can do," he suggested, not even pretending to entertain the notion that the Empire would be cutting ties with Angral. Man, just when I almost forgot that I hated this empire, here came another reminder. "While a Jedi Master needs authorization from the Senate and needs to jump through countless bureaucratic hoops, a Sith Lord with the right connections can turn their dreams into reality as a common man might devour a pastry."
"As far as responses go, that is uncharacteristically weak," I said with all the bluntness I was no longer supposed to use.
"The proper term is 'hedging our bets,' Nestor," he corrected. "And the Empire stands to benefit no matter how this matter resolves. Victory without fighting. Even if Darth Angral fails miserably, just try to imagine how much actionable intelligence we can get from this."
What?
Seriously, what?
He was prepared to let this escalate and bring the galaxy closer to war just for the sake of learning just a bit more about how the Republic handled crises? Oh, who was I kidding, of course he was.
"Speaking of our next steps," I said, choosing not to comment on the priorities of my superior, "There is a very good chance I will have a view from the other side of this crisis once the Republic figures out what to do, so I would appreciate it if you could keep me off the active-duty roster for a bit."
That gave him pause.
"You overvalue your utility to the galaxy," Darth Lega eventually said. "There is no reason for the Republic to reach out to you for aid."
"I have allies," I pointed out. "And I already offered the Jedi my help."
"You what?" For the first time that day, Darth Lega looked to have been caught off guard. "In the future, please consult with me before throwing political curve-balls at the galaxy. And before I forget your other point, your 'allies' consist of an apprentice to another Sith Lord whose previous interaction with you resulted in a traumatic brain injury when Lord Onis used a breaching charge on a hangar wall. She has a web of fellow apprentices as her allies. That is not the same."
"I have it on good authority that she recovered in short order," I said. "And that the injury was the result of getting knocked off her seat, not from the blast wave."
"The point stands." The Darth did not waver in his position. "Your power base is nascent. In its infancy. There is no reason for them to involve you."
"Unless they want to get into imperial space to hunt down Darth Angral," I pointed out.
"Nestor, even someone with your level of training should know that inviting the Republic military into imperial territory is political suicide."
"Point taken," I said. "Was there anything else, my lord?"
"I will be sending someone to take possession of the Inexpugnable Annihilator in an hour," he revealed. "The captain has already been informed of it, so do not try anything exceptionally foolish."
With that, the hologram winked out of existence, leaving me alone in the communication pod. Despite all that had been said, and all that had been implied, my spirit was far from crushed. The opposite, really. Darth Lega, after all, had not explicitly ordered me to do anything. Or more importantly, ordered me to not do anything.
In other words, I had his implicit (and thus plausibly deniable) permission.
Good.
Very good.
I adjusted the communication console to another familiar frequency. As one might have expected, the call did not immediately connect. Sith were busy creatures, after all, especially when they were still mere apprentices.
Well, unless their name happened to be Nestor, but I had always been a special case.
Eventually, the dialing chime cut off and was replaced with the familiar runes of 'Audio Only' hovering where otherwise might be a quarter-sized hologram of a person. Were it not for the fact that I communicated with my Tarisian venture the same way, I might have been insulted. More likely than any kind of intentional disrespect, however, was the chance that my dear ally was simply busy with her own work.
"Nestor," came the almost familiar voice of Natia, former apprentice to Darth Skotia and a current apprentice to Darth Zash. "Why do I get the feeling that this isn't a social call?"
"The Force is occasionally kind enough to grant visions of the future," I allowed. Briefly, I considered how to best convince her to join me in this. Flattery? Bribes? Exploiting the alliance she had sprung upon me because I had gotten one of her allies killed? Ultimately, I decided to keep it simple. "But how would you like to help me hunt down a rogue Sith Lord?"
"This is about Darth Angral, isn't it?" she asked. Clearly, the Force was strong with her. Or she paid attention to the news. One of the two.
"No, this is an unrelated Sith Lord with access to a dreadnought," I said, voice thick with sarcasm. "Feeling up for an adventure?"
"Nestor, some of us have responsibilities we cannot run away from," Natia protested, giving the weakest excuse in the book. To the sufficiently determined, it was always possible to run away from the inevitable. Not for very long, granted, but one could always get a head start.
"Sounds like a skill issue," I said. "But if you cannot handle it, I suppose I will have to take down a Darth all on my own."
Unspoken went the expected presence of the Republic in this effort.
"Baiting me will not work," she warned.
"All that glory up for grabs…" I sighed wistfully. "It will be challenging to figure out how I will use it. Perhaps another promotion?"
There was a long pause as my ally thought it over. A pause that was interrupted by a long-suffering sigh.
"Fine." That was exactly what I wanted to hear. "Fine. But only because you're going to get yourself killed otherwise, and I still plan on collecting that favor you owe me. Where are we meeting?"
"Nar Shaddaa," I revealed. "I've got a hideout in Nikto Territory for a rainy day. If I'm reading the weather forecast for Kaas City correctly, this qualifies."
"Since when do you know how to read?" she asked. "Also: what? Nar Shaddaa?"
"Nar Shaddaa," I repeated. "You think I'm going to set foot on Dromund Kaas? Willingly? Last time I visited, I got diverted from my landing course. There is a non-zero chance there's a trap down there with my name on it. Hard pass."
"Nar Shaddaa, then," Natia said. "I take it you have a plan of some sort?"
"Always," I lied. But unlike most times I plowed ahead with minimal planning, I did have a decent enough starting point. Specifically, a certain J'Nah J'Meson and his news network. The last time we had spoken, we parted on amicable terms. If there was one man in the galaxy who could get my message out, it was him.
...
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