"Ah, my old enemy: consequences."
The factotum droid leaned against the wall, its red optics extinguished and now utterly without power. The plating on its arms was extended, pushed out of the way to reveal spools of thread in dozens of different shades and hues, while internal reservoirs of cleaning solutions peeked out from underneath. Clutched in hands plated in pale blue metal was a bundle of robust beige cloth. It was still damp in places from where the blood stains had been washed out, but it was clean.
It would suffice.
"Hey," I called out to the woman who had decided I owed her my life. She sat cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom, in the admittedly spacious gap between the bed and the wall this room shared with the bathroom. Though swaddled in her recently-mended green robe, I could see the vivid red of one of my shirts poking through underneath. "We're in business."
A single pale blue eye opened to give me a flat stare. She did not say anything, but I could take a hint well enough. I tossed the freshly mended garment towards her, hoping for it to hit her head, but she managed to catch it with casual ease. Not with the Force, no, I suspect that would have been too easy. She just plucked it out of the air and strode off toward the bathroom.
Since the shower was no longer running, and letting a shower run for nearly an hour was suspicious beyond belief, we were relying on the noise of the air conditioning system for stealth. That, and covering our tracks. Which meant making sure there was nothing left that could prove there had been a Jedi inside the imperial guest suite.
Where, you may ask, would you check first when trying to find evidence of the presence of a certain person? A recording, you say? Like might be found in the memory banks of a droid? Excellent guess, which is why I had opened up the factotum droid's mechanical guts as soon as the bathroom door whispered shut.
Naturally, I had no clue what I was looking at.
Fortunately, I was entirely capable of figuring things out as I went along. Like realizing the strange runes on the cylinder dead in the center stood for 'behavior core', or that the rectangle plugged into it was clearly labeled with the sigils for 'motivator'. Yes, I might have been barely literate, but that still rounded up. Thank goodness there was a competitive industry for household droids that was incentivized to make their products easy to service.
Eventually, I found the small cylinder that held the droid's memory core. Plugging in my personal datapad, I was met with the uncomfortable realization that I did not have the necessary permissions to access the memory core. Since I could hardly request those permissions without having to answer some very awkward questions, and I did not want to have to rely on the excuse of 'I'm a Sith, I can do what I want', that left me in a difficult position.
Yeah, even I didn't believe that.
I unplugged the memory core, undid the bolts keeping it in place, and tucked it into my belt. When I got back to my ship, I would take the time to throw it into the sun. Until then, it would be perfectly safe with me.
A tap on my shoulder interrupted my pleasant musings on evidence tampering. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the Little Jedi back in her Jedi digs. As nice as it had been to see her in one of my shirts, I preferred this look. And because I could not hide my thoughts, emotions, or images that popped into my head, so did she.
Of course, the Little Jedi was entirely capable of jamming pictures of her dismembering Sith Lords into my head, so we were about even.
She gestured towards the balcony, still obscured by the drapes. I raised an eyebrow, forgetting that I was still wearing my mask, but my confusion must have been obvious in my mind, because the Little Jedi rolled her eyes.
"Is there an alarm on the doors?" she asked, her voice hushed.
"Why would there be an alarm on the doors?" I asked, before realizing that was a stupid question. Why would the Empire put an alarm on one of the only ways into the accommodations of its diplomats? Really, I had no idea… "Seeing how I didn't set anything off when I let you in, I shouldn't set anything off if I let us out."
"You place a lot of trust in your colleagues."
"I trust easily," I said, honestly enough. "It tends to work out well enough for me. And for you, come to think of it."
"Why must you make your failings sound like a virtue?"
"Call it a gift," I answered softly, amusement filling my voice at the double meaning of that word. Present or poison, what a choice it was… "Now, I suggest we get out of here before my staff realizes I pulled the memory core out of the droid."
"You realize that it won't matter if they've bugged it the old-fashioned way, yes?" she asked. "Also: we?"
"When you ask for an alibi, you will receive an alibi," I said, toggling using the Force to unlock the doors to the balcony. "And I intend to make it as solid as I can manage."
For a moment, the Little Jedi just studied me, eyes flickering all around me as she tried to figure out… something. Find some hint of treachery, perhaps? No idea. All I knew was that her face broke out in a pleased and smug grin.
"You just don't want to have to deal with your staff when they reveal they put another listening device in the droid," she said, tone insufferably smug.
"That too," I admitted. "It'll give me a few hours to come up with a believable excuse while we strengthen your alibi."
As it turned out, those few hours I had planned to spend were a lot less fun than I had imagined. Now granted, I had expected to be swamped by press and paparazzi 'journalists' the moment they got a whiff of potential drama and unsubstantiated rumors. That was not what I considered a good time by any stretch of the imagination. But it was still a lot more fun than my job, doubly so when my job involved dealing with slavers.
Except that this little walk through the public streets of Zyg Prime proved even less fun and eventful than that. Why? Because the streets were more or less empty of what most normal people considered pedestrians. How could that be, you ask? Simple.
There were no shops or merchant stalls or marketplaces. Why would there be? The masters of the planet owned all the locals. They had no reason to pay their slaves, so why would there be places to spend money that wasn't being given in the first place?
And foreign merchants? Why visit the planet when you could save a few credits on fuel and paint repair by just using the orbital docking facilities? Even better, that meant they didn't have to see and acknowledge the moral atrocities they were tacitly supporting. Both sides saved money and got to feel good about it.
Tourists? There was nothing for tourists to see. The entire city was one massive expanse of identical high-rise buildings separated by broad avenues that were only meant for litters and barges owned by slave-owners. Sometimes, those barges and litters were even kept aloft by mechanical means. The people atop the litters were worse, the arrogant creatures that they were. All interaction was to be done on their terms, as they planned it. They did not stop to have a chat. They were in the streets to flex. That was it.
There was not a single thing on this planet that I could sway by walking around here. And my hastily assembled schedule was not due to start until sundown. There was nothing to be gained from walking the streets.
"I really hate this planet," I muttered to my only company for this little excursion. The Little Jedi, thankfully, was sticking close. Of course, that was entirely to her benefit. If she was seen with me, that meant she could not be held accountable for all the people she had killed so far.
"Really?" she asked, shooting me a glance out of the corner of her eye. "You don't have a crowd of tabloid journalists keeping track of what kind of tea you had or how the cut of your coat changed in the middle of the season, and you write off an entire planet?"
"Yes, it's the lack of attention that makes this planet so terrible. Clearly."
"Try it with less sarcasm," she advised. "I might actually believe you next time."
"No, it's…" I let out a sigh as we passed beneath a pair of palm-like trees that had been formed into an arch. Telling her anything approaching the truth would be politically inadvisable, in case anybody was listening in. Not that I knew who would be able to do so; the streets were empty, and I knew first-hand that the Little Jedi wasn't wearing a wire. "Everything about this world rubs me the wrong way. I have been here less than 24 hours, and I cannot find it in me to want to succeed and drag this place to unearned glory."
"You're being serious," the Little Jedi realized. "The Little Sith doesn't want the slave empire allied to his empire."
"Kind of you to admit how little you know of me," I commented dryly. "Next you will realize I just want a peaceful galaxy."
The Little Jedi paused mid-stride at that.
"Holy stars, I have found the galaxy's most earnest Sith and he owes me his life," she muttered after a brief moment of thought.
"The galaxy's most earnest Sith is owed several lives by the galaxy's shortest human Jedi," I countered and received a jab of the elbow in turn. Naturally, I remembered her asking me for my help. Naturally, she shoved the image of her dismembering another Sith Lord into my head.
It was nice having a friend.
But it was a whole lot worse realizing just how badly this mission was going. Really, it should have been a shoo-in. A small empire that was already heavily invested in slavery with no tangible sense of loyalty to its existing trade partner? Honestly, were it not for the nonhuman leadership, it would be perfect for the Empire.
But no, most of my contacts had gotten killed before I had had a chance to speak with them.
Worse, the Empire knew ahead of time that there was a very skilled Jedi Shadow in the Republic's entourage. And had sent me.
Hang on, had I been set up?
Damn it all, this was outside of my realm of expertise. Or even competence. Actually, it wasn't even in my realm of adequacy.
And then my commlink went off. Not a text message, a quick glance revealed, but an incoming call. One I had no doubt I needed to take.
"This is Nestor," I said after lifting the small device to my ear. Glancing to the side revealed the Little Jedi likewise occupied with her own commlink. Coincidence? Probably. Hopefully. I really did not want to consider the kind of crisis that would require. "Speak."
"Lord Nestor, I need you to get back to our quarters," the familar tones of the red-headed intelligence drone said, her voice unusually serious. Normally, she was more matter-of-fact about things. No doubt this was important. "There has been a development."
"What kind of development?" I asked, still keeping my eyes on the Little Jedi. She seemed… uneasy about something.
"The galactic kind," came the answer. "A certain Darth Angral is dealing with the consequences of his actions rather poorly. Would my lord care to help run damage control?"
Oh neat, that was happening.
Oh fuck, that was happening.
"Send a speeder," I instructed her. "And then have my ship prepped for launch. This will take my full attention."
"Of course, my lord," she replied, and the line went dead.
"Lia," I called out to the Jedi. She was still talking into her commlink with hushed tones but spared me a glance. And then a second look as I sent a card with my holo-frequency into her hand.
I had a feeling this would require some coordination to clean up. Or to contain, more likely.
Just another day in the Empire, I suppose.
...
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