Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan (18 page)

It was true; the Mandalorians riding on the back of the war droids were held in place by heavily armored saddles that protected most of
their bodies. A few key spots near their heads and shoulders were vulnerable, but hitting a moving target that size would require a small miracle, even for Revan.

“All we need is to buy a few seconds,” Veela said. “Just enough time for us to get into our Basilisks and fire them up.”

Revan nudged Canderous with his elbow, drawing the big man’s attention as he dropped the blaster from his hand and moved his open palm to cover the lightsaber hilt under his belt. Canderous responded with a faint nod.

“I can create a distraction,” Revan said. “But you’ll have to move fast.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, do it,” Veela said. “If we don’t get to our Basilisks, we don’t stand a chance.”

Discarding one of his blasters, Revan leapt over the rock, drawing and igniting his lightsaber in a single motion. The glowing green blade instantly drew the attention of all four Jendri Basilisks, as the pilots swung their beasts around to target the hated Jedi who had suddenly appeared in their midst.

Revan had fought plenty of Basilisks during his campaign against the Mandalorians. The trick was to keep moving and get in close enough to limit the effectiveness of their blaster cannons. Though capable of achieving high speeds during a bombing run or charging enemy lines, the droids were slowed down by their heavy armor whenever they tried to turn or change course.

He charged the nearest rider, zigzagging to keep the Basilisk from getting a clear shot. Running directly beneath the belly of the low-flying beast, he leapt high in the air to slash his lightsaber across the droid’s tail. The energy blade ricocheted off the armor plating, but not before slicing through one of the stabilizing fins at the tip.

The pilot tried to pull his Basilisk into a steep climb so he could loop around and come diving back down at Revan—a difficult maneuver even without a missing stabilizer fin. The damaged droid tried to respond to his command, but it veered wildly out of control, turning on its side and nearly dumping the rider to the ground.

Revan took the opportunity to leap on the Basilisk’s back, grabbing hold of the back of the pilot’s seat. The Mandalorian reached back
over his shoulder to grab at the stowaway, but Revan easily avoided his grasp as he slid his lightsaber tip through the back of the seat and through the pilot’s torso.

The Basilisk screamed as the semi-sentient droid felt the death of its rider through the symbiotic link the Mandalorians shared with their mechanical mounts. Left without guidance or direction, the simple artificial intelligence programs reverted to a primal attempt to rid the Basilisk of its new rider; the thrashing sent the Basilisk into a deadly dive.

Revan leapt clear just before it hit the ground. His fall cushioned by the snow, he rolled, sprang back to his feet, and turned his attention to the three remaining Basilisks.

He wasn’t surprised to see them circling high above him, well out of the reach of even a Jedi’s leap. Just as he had learned how to fight Basilisks during the Mandalorian Wars, their riders had also learned the best strategies to use when facing a member of the Jedi Order. If they stayed at a distance and coordinated their fire, it was only a matter of time until they brought Revan down.

Fortunately, he wasn’t fighting alone. His distraction had given Veela and the other Clan Ordo riders the time they needed. As the Jendri pilots prepared to retaliate against Revan, six Ordo Basilisks took to the air in attack formation.

Now outnumbered two to one, the Jendri pilots banked their war droids away from the enemy squadron and fled. Instead of pursuing, the Ordo riders turned their attention to the enemy forces on the ground.

The battle quickly turned into a rout. Even with superior numbers, the Jendri troops couldn’t match the awesome firepower of half a dozen Basilisks. The carnage lasted less than five minutes before the Jendri ranks broke.

Revan didn’t bother to participate in the final stages of the slaughter. He’d known the battle was over the instant Veela and the others took to the sky.

He looked around for Canderous and found him perched atop one of the Basilisks, screaming out a Mandalorian war cry as he arced back and forth across the field, butchering his enemies. Such vicious savagery
was typical of Mandalorian warfare, and yet Revan knew that once the battle was over, Clan Jendri would hold no grudge against the victors. If Mandalore ever rose again and called them to fight alongside Clan Ordo, they would answer without hesitation.

His thoughts were interrupted when a great shadow passed over him, followed a second later by the heavy thud as Canderous brought his Basilisk in for a landing a few meters away.

“Better put that thing away,” he said, leaping to the ground and nodding at Revan’s lightsaber.

“Why, you think Veela’s going to forget I have it?” Revan asked. But he extinguished the blade as he spoke.

“I doubt anyone other than the pilots saw what happened. No point advertising what you really are any more than we have to.”

Revan changed the subject. “You think they’ll try another attack?”

“No,” Canderous said.

“You sure? I get the feeling they don’t like us being in their territory.”

“They fled the battle.” Canderous grinned. “It’s our territory now.” His grin grew wider. “Felt good to fly into battle again.”

“Where’d you get the mount?” Revan asked.

“Belongs to a young man named Grizzer. He still hasn’t been tested in battle, so Veela told me I could use it if we ran into any trouble.”

“When’d she tell you that?”

“The other night.”

“You mean when you were sharing her tent?”

Canderous shrugged.

“What does Grizzer think about that?”

“Veela’s the clan leader. He’ll do what she says.”

“And what’s she going to say now that she knows I’m a Jedi?” Revan wondered.

“Guess we’re going to find out,” Canderous said as Veela’s Basilisk swooped in to land beside them.

The Clan Ordo leader didn’t say a word as she climbed down from her seat. She walked toward the two men, her expression unreadable.

“Go help with the wounded,” she said to Revan. “You Jedi are good at that, right?”

He nodded.

“After that get some rest. Both of you. Tomorrow we climb the first Spear. Be ready to leave at daybreak.” Her words were calm, almost casual, but there was a fierce intensity in her eyes that made Revan wonder if he’d made an enormous mistake.

“I WASN’T TOLD
to expect you back yet, Lord Scourge,” the guard at the gate said.

“Maybe Darth Nyriss didn’t think you needed to know my schedule,” Scourge replied, his tone dripping with acid.

The guard nodded and buzzed Scourge in.

Scourge moved quickly down the stronghold’s halls, hoping his rebuke had shocked the guard into not reporting his arrival. The truth was, Nyriss didn’t know he was back yet. He had been expected to contact her immediately after the mission to kill Darth Xedrix was over, but he’d stayed silent, hastening his return journey to Dromund Kaas so he could question Sechel before anyone else knew he had touched down on the planet. He’d arrived late at night, and if he was lucky, he’d catch Sechel asleep in his room.

In the servants’ wing he paused at the large wooden door and tested the handle, expecting it to be locked. To his surprise, it turned silently in his hand. Was Sechel expecting someone? Or was he merely so confident in his position as Nyriss’s favorite that he believed himself safe?

Scourge entered the room, silently locking the door behind him, then crept through the darkness to the bed where Sechel lay sleeping beneath the covers. Reaching out, he placed his gloved hand firmly over Sechel’s mouth.

Sechel woke with a start, thrashing and loosing muffled cries into Scourge’s palm. The Sith Lord pressed down harder and leaned in close.

“Cry out for help and you’re dead,” he whispered in Sechel’s ear. “Do you understand?”

Feeling the adviser nod, Scourge slowly drew his hand away.

“Lord Scourge?” Sechel asked softly. “Is that you? It’s hard to see in the dark.”

“No light,” Scourge warned, knowing someone might see the glow from beneath the door and decide to investigate.

“I trust your mission went well,” Sechel said. Scourge couldn’t see the expression on the adviser’s face, but he detected the faintest tremor in his voice.

“You’re going to answer my questions,” Scourge said.

“Of course, my lord,” Sechel replied, reverting to the fawning, ingratiating tone he’d adopted at their first meeting.

“Meekness will not save you tonight,” Scourge said. “The truth is your only hope of surviving this interrogation.”

He pulled a short, sharp blade from his belt and pressed it against Sechel’s cheek. “My first question is a simple one: Has Nyriss been using me?”

“My lord, why would you think—
mmph
!”

Scourge jammed his hand over Sechel’s mouth, cutting off his words. Then he drew the edge of his blade slowly along the base of one of the fleshy tendrils dangling from Sechel’s cheek.

The smaller man screamed in agony, but his cries were swallowed up in Scourge’s glove. Scourge kept a steady pressure on the blade so that the fine edge sliced cleanly through the tendril, severing it. Blood began to weep from the wound.

Scourge waited until Sechel’s spasms had stopped before he pulled his hand away. To his credit, Sechel was smart enough to limit further reaction to a soft whimper.

“When I ask a question, I want a direct and immediate answer,” Scourge said. “So I will ask again: Is Nyriss using me?”

“Of course she is,” Sechel mumbled. “She uses everybody.”

“Was Darth Xedrix really working with the human separatists?”

“Yes.”

Scourge analyzed the response, focusing on the tone, pitch, and inflection. Sechel was speaking the truth.

“Did Xedrix actually try to kill Nyriss?”

When Sechel hesitated, Scourge responded by slamming his hand over his mouth again. Ignoring the muffled pleas, he lowered his blade to the adviser’s face and severed another tendril.

“Next time I take an eye,” he said once Sechel had recovered from the pain. “Remember, direct and immediate answers.”

Lying took thought and effort. It took time. Forcing a subject to answer quickly was a simple but effective tool.

He removed his hand again, ready to slash Sechel’s throat if he cried out for help. Again, the adviser had the survival instinct to hold his tongue.

“Again: Did Xedrix actually try to kill Nyriss?”

“No.”

The answer was spoken sullenly and resentfully, but Scourge could sense the truth behind the attitude.

“Who hired the assassins?”

“Nyriss did. She wanted to draw suspicion away from herself.”

“Suspicion? Suspicion of what?”

“Ask her yourself!” Sechel spat.

Scourge sighed and clamped his hand over Sechel’s mouth yet again. But before he could bring the blade to bear, the door swung open with such force it nearly broke free from its hinges.

Darth Nyriss stood on the other side, framed by the light of the hallway’s glow lamps.

“I will answer all your questions,” she said calmly, “but if you harm Sechel again, I will end you.”

Scourge tossed the knife aside and slowly stood up from the bed. His heart was pounding, and he had to fight against the urge to go for his lightsaber. He’d known there were risks in coming after Sechel; now all he could do was hope his actions hadn’t cost him his life.

“I assume this conversation will be in private?” he asked.

She nodded and turned away. Scourge didn’t even look back at Sechel as he followed Nyriss out into the hall.

Darth Nyriss was silent until they reached her private chamber.
Scourge was surprised to find that her Twi’lek slave was not present. It seemed that whatever was about to be said could not be trusted even to the Twi’lek’s faithful ears.

“Are you loyal to the Empire?” Nyriss asked him.

“I thought I would get to ask the questions,” Scourge replied.

“Remember your place,” she warned. “Listen to what I have to say. When I am finished, you will have your chance to speak.”

“I am loyal to the Emperor,” Scourge declared.

“Loyal to the Emperor, or to the Empire?” she pressed. “They are two different things.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Emperor is mad. Unchecked, he will destroy us all.”

“For a thousand years the Empire has thrived under his rule,” Scourge countered.

Her words were treason, but there was little he could do about it. If he tried to strike her down, he was fairly sure he would not be able to stand against her. Unlike Darth Xedrix, she was a Sith Council member in the prime of her powers. Now that she had told him her true feelings, she couldn’t let him leave her room alive. Not if she felt he would report her to the Emperor. His only option—his only hope for survival—was to play along.

“The Emperor has expanded our borders,” Nyriss admitted. “He has made us stronger. But he is only doing this for one purpose. He is planning an attack on the Republic. He intends to start another war with the Jedi.”

“No,” Scourge said, shaking his head. “Impossible.”

The Great Hyperspace War had been one of the darkest times in the history of the Sith. Under the leadership of Naga Sadow, they had invaded the newly discovered Republic, seeking to conquer it as they had conquered every other civilization they had encountered. But despite their early victories, they had quickly lost ground. The Republic hadn’t just defeated the Sith fleets; they had annihilated them. And then the Jedi had pursued the fleeing survivors across the galaxy, nearly hunting the Sith to extinction.

The decisive actions of the Emperor had saved them. He had led the remaining Sith into the unexplored regions of the galaxy, a decades-long
flight that ended only when they rediscovered and reclaimed Dromund Kaas, their long-lost ancestral home. Fortunately, the Republic and the Jedi had never found them here—a small stroke of luck that had allowed the Empire to survive.