spiderparlour | Miscalculations

Miscalculations

Failure. Acknowledged and corrected for, but the moment was past. He could do no more for the Empire now. He would return one day. That much was certain.

The Dark Council had sought to keep him incapacitated before his inevitable execution, and they had failed. They used physical and chemical restraints that Intelligence knew well, and he had been ready to break them. Before they realized the cell was empty, he had already comandeered a ship.

He had not sensed the danger. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the drugs they had poured into him, or his own rumination on recent events. In any case, the ship suddenly lurched out of hyperspace with a scream of distorting metal, already falling into the grasp of a planetary gravity well, and the saboteur was revealed. The agent. He had no time to spare for them now, but his hate and respect for them burned ever deeper into his core.

The controls barely responded, even the Force itself would not heed his will to slow the ship. It burned through miles of sickly clouds, which suddenly parted to reveal a ruined landscape, growing ever closer.

There had been little more to do. He had aimed for the barren outskirts of a city, pulling the nose of the ship up to shed as much speed as he possibly could. It was still moving too fast to lower the landing skids. It would have to be crashed onto its hull directly. He was strapped into the crash webbing of the pilot's chair, ready for the impact.

Concerning himself with the practical aspects of survival seemed like such a betrayal of what he had sought to achieve. And yet, he did what was necessary. Now, to find out if he had succeeded.

The ship touched down hard, and he remembered very little of what happened next.

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He ignored the comment. It was perfectly normal for him to lapse into long periods of stillness and quiet when words were unnecessary.

But eventually, he responded. "Little of it." Or it seemed to be. Gnarled and bare, and neither life nor death could be felt from any of it.

"The war they fought has left the atmosphere thick with dust. This place was warmer, once. Life here was not prepared for the sudden shift. The plants are dead and the soil stripped along with them." It was the skeleton of a world.

"This happened to worlds heavily bombarded in the last war, and it will happen again. With the Dark Council as it stands, the next war will come soon."

Edwon didn't push for conversation, but waited, which paid off when Darth Jadus finally decided to fill the silence. He allowed himself a moment to take that all in, trying to paint a picture in his mind. "If people have survived here, I'm impressed. They'll be strong."

And most likely not friendly to outsiders, which would be a problem. But it was a problem for later.

"They're maintaining the truce so far." Mostly. He'd seen enough tension on enough planets, Balmorra especially. "What makes you think there'll be war?"

It was disappointing, how an agent could have been so pivotal in events that he still did not understand. "There have always been those who resented the truce, both Empire and Republic. They wanted to topple the galaxy into an age of pointless destruction." The Dark Council contained several, pitted against those that preferred the Cold War. It was why his false death had been so effective at unbalancing them all.

"Intelligence helped to maintain the balance, and I protected it from Sith who desired war. My daughter commands it now, but she does not control it. It will continue to weaken and fracture as others claw their desires from it. The Dark Council will devour her, and war will come. The archives alone contain everything they need to unleash it."

Edwon was paying close attention now. Not that he had anything else to focus on, aside from maintaining his balance as he half jogged next to Darth Jadus, but even in the middle of an attack he'd listen to this. You don't make it as an agent if you don't gather information when and where you can. And this involved him directly, involved Intelligence directly. Darth Jadus had his (never entirely, always listening for danger) undivided attention.

"So if you hadn't gone all out with that plan of us, you'd be able to maintain the truce for longer. Is that what you're saying?" A little too challenging perhaps, but the point was to keep him talking. "Not that your solution was a peaceful one, either."

"No." He could not make his displeasure truly clear, but perhaps the agent would still feel his aura through their touch.

"You believe you are drawing new information from me, agent, but you have simply failed to listen." He had revealed his intentions in the Artus System, when he had still thought the agent might understand. He had been wrong.

He did feel his aura. It felt like the weight of Darth Jadus' hand was increasing, like a stifling pressure originating from the point where they touched, but it wasn't nearly enough to affect him. Edwon didn't react, didn't want to give him the satisfaction. He only shrugged.

"I listened. Rebuilding the empire, spreading fear and degradation, equality for all under your new rule. Your goal might have been some sort of peace, but your methods were the opposite. And your plan was a bad one."

He knew talking like this was risky, but he also just didn't care. Darth Jadus should be used to that from him by now. "I'll repeat myself, since you won't: You could have maintained the truce for longer, but I don't think that's what you really cared about. If it was, you would have chosen a different strategy." He paused, tilted his head. "Or maybe you were just overconfident."

Peace is a lie. The Sith Code was insipid, the product of ancient Dark Jedi thought and bound to merely exist in opposition to the Light. And yet it had some tenuous overlap with the truth. He did not desire peace, he desired something greater.

He had planned carefully, but at a crucial moment, it had proved insufficient. This he knew, and he accounted for. But it did not mean that the agent had been more prepared, or that their thinking was correct. "I set the board, but you made the move. All that happens from now on is of your making, agent."

"If I make mistakes, I fix them. If there are consequences to my actions, I'll face them." He said it lightly, but that was to hide the fact that the warnings (even if he said they weren't warnings) were starting to get to him. It made him want to get to work, figure out what he meant by it, if there was anything that he'd missed.

But first things first: He had to get off this planet. Then he had to get away from Darth Jadus. Then he had to rid himself of this brainwashing. Then he could worry about whatever Darth Jadus was implying, because it was becoming obvious he wouldn't get a straight answer out of him.

"Can you see a sun?" Might as well change the subject. "Keep track of it, if you can, because if it's as dry and barren as you said, then it will get cold here at night."

"Answers found in personal actions are insufficient to protect you. This conflict stretches far beyond your reach, agent. You are bound to it now, and all your skill and cunning matter less than the combined strength of the forces that turn towards you."

That had been a key part of his own mistake--to be drawn again to the individual level. It had made him vulnerable, still made him vulnerable. Poison still lurked in his body, bringing weakness and pain. He had only just begun to destroy it during his flight from Dromund Kaas, before the agent had complicated matters again.

But with regards to the cold? "You will feel it." He would barely notice. Though his robes still bore a few thin cuts over hastily repaired flesh, the loss of heat was minimal.

"Aw, are you worried about me?" He obviously knew that wasn't the case, but this was annoying him more and more. It felt like Darth Jadus was trying to throw him off, unnerve him, as if that would lessen Edwon's victory over him. Edwon wanted information; Darth Jadus obviously had no intention of giving it. "There's no need. I'll be careful."

With his job, the idea of being careful was a bit of a joke. Besides, he wouldn't enjoy it even if was the sensible thing to do. He needed a good thrill every now and again.

Though talking to Jadus was becoming less and less of one. "No, I won't. Because I have no intention of freezing to death. We're going to find shelter before then."

He would not respond to that.

"Then you will have to walk faster." He kept his grip on the agent, face turned to the horizon. "There are structures in the distance." And there was still the matter of the column of smoke he'd seen off in the distance. Someone was here, and they would see the ship, and their tracks.

"Normally I'd actually agree with you," annoying as that fact was, "but walking faster might be even riskier right now."

Because he couldn't see, couldn't navigate, and could easily fall or twist his ankle. He had no choice right now but to trust Darth Jadus to lead him away from anything he could trip over, or to warn him if there was anything in his path. If they sped up, even a slight change in elevation could be enough to make him trip. He stubbornly kept the same pace.

"Describe it to me, once we're closer. We have to figure out what we're dealing with, so we can plan how best to approach this."

He was no agent himself, but his life, his work had required him to remain observant. He could assess the space.

"Likely a former civilian compound. five buildings on a plot of eighty meters. The largest is forty by ten, and two stories. It is the only one with a flat roof. Small windows, all but two appear barricaded." He doubted there were snipers within. One could have already taken a shot at this range. And the unbarricaded windows either indicated the area was abandoned, or made to appear as such.

Some minutes later, he spoke again. "Old tracks leading to the compound. Your footing will be surer on the path." Too indistinct to make out individual footprints--it was only visible in the groove that feet had been worn into the dirt. At this distance, it was easier to see something else, closer to the compound walls.

"Bodies have been dismembered and left at the perimeter. They are not fresh." Either a warning to avoid the area, or a statement of power over the lives of others.

Edwon let Darth Jadus talk, attempting to form a picture in his mind. He wanted to at least pretend he wouldn't be useless, but... "Normally I'd say I can handle civilians, but right now my aim might be a little bit off."

Ideally, they wouldn't have to fight, but the locals had no reason to be friendly to outsiders, and, judging by those bodies, weren't very friendly to locals, either. He tilted his head, tried to listen for any sounds that might indicate other people, but for now it was quiet. It could be abandoned, or they could be walking into an ambush.

"If they give us a chance to talk, let me handle it." He didn't trust Darth Jadus in the slightest. "I doubt they will, but it's always worth it to try."

"There are signs of conflict. Impacts on the outer walls. Likely a mix of blasters and ballistic weapons." More archaic slugthrower rifles would last longer here, but their ammunition was bluky and required metal for their manufacture. Most survivors would be loath to waste the ammunition unless pressed. Arrows and sling stones were not out of the question, however, if the people here had the werewithall to construct more primitive weapons for themselves.

But had the assaults on this place killed its inhabitants? Were the bodies at the walls all that was left? Every time he instinctively reached out to the world around him, the twisting emptiness tried to rush in. His mind retreated to a safer harbor, the one blot of emotion and life he could clearly distinguish: the agent.

"Stop right there!" A voice called out as they drew level with the old corpses. Speaking Basic, with an unlacable accent.

"Identify yourself!" There were quiet hissings of other voices behind it, but he could not yet see where any of them were.

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Miscalculations

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