AUTHORS NOTE: This is a giant, confusing mess of a story trying to tie together all class storylines and what might happen after Agent Chapter 3 with the remains of a certain organization together. This particular chapter has spoilers for Agent Chapter 3 and Inquisitor Prologue, but through this story, practically everything in game will be spoiled and played with. Things won't always work the way they do in game, but still, if you don't want spoilers for a certain class, I would recommend not reading this.

This story has a lot of original characters (the various classes), and focuses on them and their companions. The star of the show may be Aa'lynne, an Agent who completed Chapter 3 after a very different Chapter 1 and 2, but everyone appears and has chapters about them. Again, this is probably pretty confusing in someways, though I'll try to note anything weird.

(No, it will never be explained why everyone's name begins with Aa. Mystery of the universe, that one.)

"There will be always be a Cipher Nine."

Aa'lynne thinks that's where it ends, or that's where it begins.

A holocall late in the night, her in a mussed blue robe that clashed horribly with her skin and barefoot on her ship. Keeper (Watcher Two- no, no, always Keeper now) shadowed even in the call, her eyes staring at something far away, beyond what Aa'lynne can see.

"Maybe," Aa'lynne had responded then, only a month ago but still so much younger. "Perhaps. But it won't be me."

"Another Chiss," Keeper had said. "You have taught me the usefulness of aliens in- in Intelligence." '

You are a credit to your species', Watcher Two had said long ago. But Watcher Two is long gone, no more friendly banter on the holocalls, now this woman with shadows and secrets and lies, always lies.

"Do you think to court me?" Aa'lynne had scoffed. "I care not who you choose. I abandon the name, as I abandon you."

Keeper had looked up, then. For a moment, she looked like someone one could reason with, someone one could relate to. Like she had once been. Before the beginning of the end. "We could use you in Intelligence."

"I will not serve the Sith," Aa'lynne had said, and then she turned the frequency off and crawled to bed beside Vector, thinking herself free.

Now, a month has passed, but she knows she will never be free.

"The Minister of Intelligence is dead," Lokin informs her one morning, and she chokes down soldier rations and thinks about blond hair, blue eyes, and the most brilliant woman she has ever had the pleasure to meet. Then she thinks about a balding head and blank eyes and hates herself when she feels nothing but sour regrets.

"Thank you, my dear doctor," Aa'lynne says.

Lokin almost smiles, but Lokin almost smiles a lot. It's never full, and it's never real. Perhaps he's a better actor then she ever will be.

A holocall awaits her. She answers it, because it is her nature to answer every call to her: no matter what the frequency, no matter who the sender. This time, it is her brother.

Aanan is leaning against a desk, somewhere clean and sterile. The capital, she guesses. "I've been trying to reach you all morning," he says, and he smiles, because Aanan will always smile, no matter what the circumstances. It's not very Chiss-like.

"I slept in," Aa'lynne says. She rubs her eyes. It is the truth, and one she can afford to tell. She no longer has to wake at the crack of dawn for missions; now she curls up against her lover and sleeps till the sounds of the others moving awakes her. "What's the occasion?"

"I tracked down my first bounty," Aanan says, standing straight for a moment.

Aa'lynne itches to comb his hair. Her sisters had never sat still for that, too wild and too unkept even in childhood. Aanan had been a good boy, however, until he grew to that stage the other races called adolescence (Chiss were supposed to skip it, but Aanan was the least Chiss Chiss she had ever met) and met that bounty hunter and suddenly became unkempt and sharp and far too distant for her to keep track of. Far too adult for someone who was still a boy, and not just in her eyes.

"You've joined your girlfriend?" Aa'lynne responds, trying to keep her voice teasing but there's a bit of judgment Hunting. Her brother is Bounty Hunting. She's practically raised the little brat since their parents died, and what does he do with his life? Track down criminals?

Her sister turns to smuggling, and her brother turns to bounty hunting. Their parents would be so ashamed.

"She's not my girlfriend," Aanan says, still smiling. He doesn't even blush when he says it anymore, so it's probably the truth. Still, the banter is easy and familiar: ever since he made friends with the girl (what is her name again- Aalis?), Aa'lynne has declared them as dating. "And this was official business. Sponsored by the Imperial Government. Had to do with this Evocii..."

"Oh no, an Evocii," Aa'lynne deadpans. "A fierce opponent for you, I'm sure."

"I didn't even get to fight the Evocii," Aanan complains. "I took out a Twilek instead. She was actually a pretty hard fight. It was so dumb, though. Go to Hutta for the bounty, then come back to the capital, and now I find out I'm going back to Hutta again."

"Why would you want to go to Hutta?" Aa'lynne asks.

Hutta. Disgusting place, disgusting planet, disgusting Hutts. Starting a gang war between them with Kaliyo had been amusing, but since then, she hasn't been back.

"It's an assignment," Aanan says, voice almost sing-song. "This is what I wanted to tell you, Aa'lynne. You can't call me a useless layabout anymore: I have a job."

"Did you get conscripted for the Imperial Military?" Aa'lynne asks, slightly alarmed. Aanan is certainly of age- by Chiss standards- but not quite yet by human standards, which is usually what the human dominated Imperial Military works off of. It's of course fine if he joins the military- it's not like he would have much of a choice- but she'll worry about him. He's been shooting blasters since he could hold them, and he's certainly well trained, but he is her youngest sibling. Worrying about him is just a part of life for her.

"No, no, that would be boring," Aanan says, wrinkling his nose. "I'm following your example, dear sister. I joined Imperial Intelligence."

Suddenly, everything is cold. So very cold.

"You mean Sith Intelligence," Aa'lynne says, shivering.

Aanan shrugs, indifferent. "Imperial, Sith- same thing. It's the Empire."

If this wasn't a holocall, Aa'lynne would strangle him. That fact almost causes her to laugh, but it would be one of those high pitched, almost hysterical things. He would elbow her if he tried, and stab her if she kept trying- Aanan's always liked his knives. But still, she'd try to strangle him, because he's wrong. He's so wrong. Imperial Intelligence is a dead thing. Sith Intelligence is all that's left, and it's so different it hurts.

"You're a fool," Aa'lynne says, voice brittle.

Aanan looks impassive for a moment. Finally, he says, "I thought you'd be more happy. You were always proud about serving the Empire. It's why you quit the Secret Police."

"I," Aa'lynne starts, then gives up. He will never understand. Not until he sees what the Sith can do will he understand. "I need to go. I have an execution to watch."

"And you say my hobbies are weird," Aanan says with a laugh, but it sounds a bit fake. It'll improve in time, if he's truly entering Sith Intelligence. Or he'll die for it. "I should go and see about getting passage to Hutta. Be well."

"Be well," Aa'lynne says, and she hangs up.

She almost cries, but it seems she's forgotten how to do so somewhere along the line. Maybe that's a pity.

She watches the execution of the Minister of Intelligence twelve times from eight different angles.

"Really hated him, huh?" Kaliyo says, munching on her own soldier rations with a disgusted air.

"Shut up, Kaliyo," Aa'lynne says. She finds a ninth angle, someone recording the execution from the crowd, and pulls it up.

"Was that your brother earlier? He's sort of cute, for a blue," Kaliyo continues.

"Shut up, Kaliyo," Aa'lynne says, eyes glued to the scene.

Vector walks in then, and coaxes Kaliyo away with some gentle banter- something about swear words in obscure languages, a common topic between Kaliyo and Lokin that Vector sometimes pretends to care about for bonding purposes. Aa'lynne feels grateful, but barely hears it. All she hears is this words: 'this man is a traitor to the Empire', 'he has failed', 'the Empire does not tolerate traitors, but more, it does not tolerate failures'...

Decapitation by lightsaber. Done by one of the Dark Council members, but she does not know his name. The membership of the group changes so often that keeping track of them is more of a chore then it's worth, Aa'lynne has always thought. Now, she regrets that.

"Is there a problem with the video, sir?" Temple finally asks, creeping out of the cockpit. She looks nervous and skittish, and Aa'lynne barely looks at her.

"I needed to know it was real," Aa'lynne says after a long pause. "There are worse punishments then death in the Empire."

Temple stands next to her, and they watch the video again. Temple looks like she wants to grimace when the lightsaber falls, but she remains resolute. Temple has grown stronger, Aa'lynne thinks.

"It certainly looks real," Temple finally says, when a Sith casually kicks the head of the former Minister of Intelligence over the banisters that surround Kaas City in to the undercity below.

"Is that your professional opinion?" Aa'lynne asks.

Temple's eyes dart around, but then refocus on Aa'lynne. "Ah... yes. Sir."

Aa'lynne taps her fingers on the console. "That is my opinion as well."

She starts up the video again, anyway, going back to the official recording. Fifteen times, now. The Minister of Intelligence remains calm throughout it, no expression on his face as the Sith lists his 'crimes' and then kills him. Aa'lynne feels almost proud of him. A strange emotion for this time, but it's all she has. When the recording finally ends, she nods to herself, then speaks. "Ensign. Set the ship on course for the Capital."

Temple salutes, and quickly heads back to the cockpit without another word.

Kaliyo saunters back in the room. "You done being creepy yet? Bug-boy talks, but he never has much to say. Don't know how you can stand him, really..."

"Dibs on the head," Aa'lynne says.

"Yeah, hah, you don't sound like me at all, agent. Try harder," Kaliyo says, leaning against the console.

"No," Aa'lynne says. "I'm serious. This head is mine."

Kaliyo stares at her for a moment, then asks skeptically, "We're not seriously taking that back to the ship, are we? Not even bug-boy will stick around if you're keeping a rotting head in your private quarters."

"I don't think I'm going to keep it. I'll send it to Keeper, instead," Aa'lynne says, after a moment of inner-debate. "She might appreciate the gift."

"Hey, I always approve of screwing over that bitch," Kaliyo says, "but how do you think you're going to find it?"

"I'm sure just looking around the city, we'll inevitably find a fool trying to sell it. Buy a head touched by the Sith, and surely your children will become force-sensitive and come back and murder you in your sleep!" Aa'lynne says, mimicking the accents of the common people of the city. Less enunciation, more slurring. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"Nuh-uh. Everyone's going to be murdering every balding male human they find, so they can be the one selling the head of the Minister of Intelligence. Man, those people are probably making a killing," Kaliyo responds, suddenly getting a bit dreamy. "Hey, we could use some credits..."

"You can sell the fakes, if you really want," Aa'lynne says, indifferent. "Honestly, the original head-"

That's when they jump to hyperspace, and both woman stagger, almost falling on top of each other. They quickly rebalance, Aa'lynne aloof and Kaliyo irritable.

"As I was saying," Aa'lynne continues, "the original head is going to be a matted, disgusting mess. It fell quite a distance. We might need the good doctor to reconstruct it to make sure we've actually found the right head."

"So we're bringing the head back to the ship? You never let me bring heads I like back to the ship," Kaliyo complains. "This is disgusting and creepy, by the way, agent. In case you weren't aware."

"It's my ship," Aa'lynne counters, then she leaves the room.

In the end, Aa'lynne is able to convince Kaliyo, Vector, Lokin, and Temple to follow her in to the city. Scorpio, however, remains unmoved.

"The man is dead," the droid says, cold as always. "He offers me nothing. Why should I search for his remains? There's no knowledge to be gained in human bones."

So they leave her to guard the ship (Aa'lynne only trusts her because Scorpio cannot be separated from her for too long- if not for that, Aa'lynne imagines Scorpio would sell the ship to the highest bidder then run off to buy some more technology) and the five of them trudge from the spaceport to the city as Aa'lynne is far too cheap to pay speeder fees for all of them.

(Kaliyo complains, but cheers up when they decide to go through the Mandalorian encampment and wipe out a few Mandalorians along the way.)

The execution happened in the plaza near the cantina, and Aa'lynne deems they should start there and then head down. No one else offers their opinion, at least out loud. Kaliyo's already made hers clear, in any case, and Temple and Vector keep sharing these worried looks whenever they think she's not looking. Lokin is as hard to read as ever; Aa'lynne has a feeling he might just be finding this whole deal terribly amusing, or perhaps in his own strange way, he is mourning for the man he once called a friend.

There, there is another failure.

A young girl, or maybe a woman. A Rattataki with the same build as Kaliyo, though she looks younger. She sways back and forth as she walks in tattered robes, and she hums a tune under her breath. Kaliyo notices her first, and snorts. "Drunk."

"Or high," Aa'lynne murmurs, something in her training stopping her from dismissing the child. She steps back a few cautious steps, but the girl doesn't appear to notice her, continuing her swaying until she stumbles right in to Temple's back.

"Careful," Lokin says, steadying Temple, but the Rattataki tumbles to the ground.

Aa'lynne sighs, pulls the girl to her feet, and brushes her off. "Are you alright?" she asks dutifully, though not with any true care.

The girl recoils. "Don't touch me, filth!"

Kaliyo snickers.

Aa'lynne raises an eyebrow, and looks down at her perfectly neat attire compared to the tattered nature of the child's clothes.

"You who have the nerve to place your hands on me, the me who will kill a Darth..." The girl giggles to herself, and twists her head around, back and forth, up and down. "You can die, too. A warmup. Oh, but a treat, I suppose. Khem! You can eat this one! I promise!"

And then, suddenly, the girl has a hulking monster with a vibrosword at her side.

The monster does not speak basic. Aa'lynne has to rely on her translator to understand the guttural language it spits out, "This one has no force abilities. Is no good for eating."

"Aww," the Rattataki says, sounding a bit mournful. "You couldn't eat that mean Darth, either. Who can you eat?"

The red eyes of the monster dart around, and suddenly land on Temple. "This weak one. She would make a small snack."

All the training they've gone through, all the data the Ensign has memorized, all the practice runs Aa'lynne and Lokin have come up with to test her- it's all gone in a blink of an eye. Aa'lynne does not blame Temple, not exactly: she is aware that there are things she will lose her finely crafted control over as well, and having one's most precious secret revealed in the middle of Kaas City is likely fairly high on Temple's list of things she most doesn't want to happen. Still, Aa'lynne feels disappointed. Apparently, she hadn't trained the Ensign quite enough.

"Where's your lightsaber?" the Rattataki accuses.

Kaliyo does not speak so much to back Temple up, Aa'lynne knows, as much as Kaliyo is sniffing out a fight and ready to roll. "Where's yours, brat?"

"In my pack," the girl states, reaching around in to her pack as she speaks. "I'm undercover, you see. Because I'm going to kill a Darth, and I'm not going to even need a lightsaber for it."

The girl is crazy.

The girl is Rattataki.

The girl is *Sith*, and when did the Sith allow Rattataki to join them?

"This Acolyte is also undercover," Vector says, ever the diplomat even if that has to make him a liar. Aa'lynne loves him as she always does: always trying to stop senseless fighting, even when senseless fighting is all they have. "We are Sith Intelligence, investigating rumors that the former Minister of Intelligence had supporters in this sector. This Acolyte's Lord sent her with us to make sure his will is being done."

"Oh?" the Sith says, stopping rummaging in her pack. She pulls out a double bladed lightsaber, and attaches it to the side of her robes. "That's the sort of work you'd give a servant. Is she being punished?"

"Yes," Vector says calmly. His black eyes reveal nothing.

The Sith beams at them. "Then he won't mind if I punish her some too, right?"

Lokin quickly steps away from Temple. Aa'lynne rolls in to cover without meaning to. Vector, her lovely stupid fool, tries to get in the way. Temple and Kaliyo both go for their guns. And the Sith shoots purple lightning from her hands. Temple screams, but glances Aa'lynne's way.

"Fall," Aa'lynne commands, mouthing rather then whispering.

And so Temple does a surprisingly good rendition of a dead faint.

"Reminds me of Ffon. Poor little trembling Ffon," the Sith says, laughing. "She's not dead yet, is she? I don't want Lord Zash to get in trouble."

A name, just not one Aa'lynne's heard before. It doesn't matter yet, but it will soon.

Lokin leans over Temple, and takes an exaggerated time looking over her. Then he looks up. "No, my lord, you just knocked her unconscious. She will recover in order to report her embarrassment to her Lord in time."

"Hm," the Sith says. "I suppose that will have to do. Well. Come along, Khem. Let's leave the non force-wielders to do their drudge work."

And just like that, the Sith and her monster walk off.

Aa'lynne rushes to Temple's side, as does Vector; Kaliyo saunters over a bit lazier.

"I wouldn't have minded cutting up that crazy," Kaliyo complains. "We should have just done it. She wasn't even a lord, right? We would have gotten away with it."

"You never get away with just 'cutting up' Sith," Lokin says, another almost smile. "She's fine, agent."

Temple opens her eyes. "It hurt a bit, sir, but I've had worse."

"We've run in to Darth's before, and they've never detected your... abilities," Aa'lynne says carefully. "Have you ever met that creature before?"

Temple sits up. "No. And no one should know but... you, and now the others."

As Temple herself had silenced the only other person aware of her Force Sensitivity.

"I've met my fair share of alien species, but I didn't recognize that one," Lokin says. "Something to investigate when we get back to the ship."

"That's where you're going," Aa'lynne says. "Take Temple. Vector, guard them."

"I don't need an escort. Sir," Temple adds quickly. "I'm just a bit dizzy."

"I'm not taking chances. Kaliyo and I will be there soon," Aa'lynne orders. "All of you, take off. If anyone bothers you, just leave the spaceport. We can meet on the Fleet."

"Me?" Kaliyo questions. "What are we up to, Agent?"

"You, technically, are still in the employ of Intelligence," Aa'lynne says. She then smiles. "I think it's time we payed our old friends a visit."

"Oh." Kaliyo grins. "Let's have a party, then."

Unfortunately, Keeper is out. No one is more disappointed then Kaliyo, who still resents her for the comment about counting that had been made around two years prior. Kaliyo holds long grudges. Fortunately, Watcher Three is in, and it's relatively easy to drag him away from his console and in to Keeper's office after he enthusiastically greets her and asks if she's come back 'home'.

Once they have him backed in to the corner, Aa'lynne informs him that she's sorry for threatening him that time way back when, but there's no way in hell she's coming back to Sith Intelligence, and can't he answer just a few questions for her? She is not, after all, going to take no for an answer.

"I knew we should have put you under surveillance," Watcher Three says bitterly.

"You probably should have," Aa'lynne says. "In retrospect. But we won, the Star Cabel is gone, and you're now going to tell me about the Sith."

"This isn't about your brother?" Watcher Three wonders, then he sighs. "The Sith give orders. We obey them. It's not any different then how it was back when you were working here."

Kaliyo leans against a wall and cracks her knuckles. Too early, but Kaliyo often is.

(They've shared that joke before.)

"It's a specific sort of Sith I'm after. Lord Zash. Heard of her?" Aa'lynne asks.

"Blonde," Watcher Three says, sulkingly. He doesn't stutter around her anymore. "Pretty, for a Sith Lord. Don't know much else about her. She has a suite in the Citadel- unusual for a non-Darth."

"I think you know more," Aa'lynne says. "Kaliyo?"

"This is the only fun I've gotten to have in weeks," Kaliyo informs Watcher Three.

He gulps.

She smacks him on the face.

They play that cycle for a while: Kaliyo hits him for a while, he claims he doesn't know anything, Aa'lynne reminds him she can make the pain stop when he does get around to knowing something, Kaliyo hits him some more. The bruises are bright purple in the yellow lights of Keeper's office, but Aa'lynne coldly tells herself not to care. She swore a promise to the Minister of Intelligence to help the Empire by whatever means possible, and if things like that Sith girl are the future of the Empire- then it's time to act. Torture that she does not carry out is a clinical thing. Eventually, Watcher Three breaks. He is not a Cipher Agent, meant for the field and accustomed to enemies using torture against them: he is used to easy living behind a console.

"She doesn't get along with her superiors, two different Darths," he says, brown eyes little pinpricks as he glances around wildly. "Don't know their names. Has three different apprentices."

"Isn't that a lot?" Aa'lynne asks. "Most Sith only have one."

"She has visions. She says she has a vision that, that an apprentice will lead her to greatness. She's looking for another one," Watcher Three confesses. "She's probably just crazy. We don't have her down as a threat, but she's ambitious. Her superiors are keeping a close eye on her. She keeps going to the Dark Temple, but she returns empty handed."

"You still haven't gotten that sealed up?" Aa'lynne says, with a bit of disgust. "That place was a mess of the possessed two years ago when I first came to Kaas!"

"The Sith like it this way," Watcher Three says, quietly. "And what the Sith say go."

"I think it's more likely that the Sith can't figure out how to stop it," Aa'lynne says, with even more disgust.

Watcher Three just gives an annoyed sigh. "I don't know. The Sith don't share their thoughts with me."

"How dreadfully dull," Aa'lynne says. "Kaliyo?"

"I don't know anything else!" Watcher Three yells as Kaliyo gives him a soon to be black eye. She's wearing heavy armor, as always: her gauntlets almost assuredly hurt. "My latest assignment involves monitoring an Agent on Mannan and keeping an eye on some terrorists on Tattooine! I'm not paying attention to this Lord of yours!"

"You'll remember something else," Kaliyo says, sounding much more cheerful now then she had earlier. Violence usually does that with Kaliyo. "They always do."

Watcher Three screams, yells, generally protests, begs a Fixer who glances in to help him (the Fixer takes one look at Aa'lynne and Kaliyo and backs away with his head down), and in the end slumps to the floor a blooded mess and a broken man.

Kaliyo kicks him. "C'mon, there has to be something else."

"You can't even make up a lie or two?" Aa'lynne says in mock disapproval. "Really, Watcher. Sith Intelligence is so very disappointing."

Watcher Three glares up with one good eye, and attempts to spit out a word or two.

"We can't hear you," Kaliyo laughs. "Care to try again?

"Onomatophobia," Watcher Three screams out.

And Aa'lynne knows only red.

Sometime later, Kaliyo pulls her away from the thing on the ground.

"He's unconscious, Agent," Kaliyo says, and for the first time in forever, there's something almost like fear in her voice. "He's been unconscious. No point in torturing him any further. Just kill him and get it over with, and let's leave him as a present for your old friend."

The butt of Aa'lynne's rifle is still crammed in the eye of the once-person on the ground. Aa'lynne removes it, and wipes it a patch of Watcher Three's clothing that's only a little bloodied rather then soaked.

"He's still alive?" Aa'lynne says distantly, feeling like she's speaking through a great fog.

"He's- he's breathing, yeah," Kaliyo says, glancing down. "Not sure how much longer he'll be, but right now, he's still breathing."

"Then we'll leave him like this. Maybe Keeper will come back in time to get him medical attention. Maybe not. But I'll waste no more time on him," Aa'lynne says.

"But you were just trying to rip him apart with your bare hands," Kaliyo protests, glancing down. "Did a pretty good job of it, too."

That's true. There's bloodstains all over her hands and sleeves and chest. She'll need to get this jacket cleaned. Thankfully, there's always Nar Shadaa. The cleaners on the Fleet would probably ask questions.

"I don't like killing needlessly," Aa'lynne says. Her voice is cold, and carries an obviously understandable tone of 'I don't want to talk about this'.

Kaliyo of course ignores it. "But torturing needlessly is totally okay, agent?"

"Are you disgusted?" Aa'lynne asks her straight.

"Hah, I've seen worse," Kaliyo says. She then admits, "That was a pretty good try, though. What did he say to you? Onomonophobia or something?"

"It's a codeword. It means 'I am an idiot, please kill me'," Aa'lynne says, not at all bothering to correct Kaliyo. If she never hears that word again, she'll much happier with her life. "Come. We should leave before Keeper gets back. There's no one around to break you out of Imperial Jail anymore."

"Still feels like you did way too much damage to just leave him alive, but whatever," Kaliyo says with a shrug. "Maybe he'll come back with a grudge and cybernetic limbs and I can sell you off to him and keep your ship."

"Then there would really be no one to break you out of Jail," Aa'lynne says.

They leave Keepers office. Every Intelligence Agent in the facility quickly pretends they are oh so very busy with the console in front of them or the conversation they're having, and very carefully doesn't look their way. Kaliyo laughs out loud and waves at the room; Aa'lynne ignores them, and they walk out to the speeders.

"We still going after the head?" Kaliyo asks.

"I want to," Aa'lynne admits, paying the droid a few of her precious, precious credits. "But I have a feeling we just got banned from Dromand Kaas."

All she can do is hope that the Minister of Intelligence is truly dead, not imprisoned somewhere in the Citadel and Korriban. Then she can live up to his dream, and keep that and only that in mind, and not worry about him suffering for as long as human can live. His failure wasn't that great, was it? Not that he failed at all. The Sith should have been thanking him, for his part in stopping the Star Cabal. But the Sith never thank anyone, Aa'lynne has always thought.

(Somedays- on the bleakest, harshest of days- she wonders what would have happened, if she had kneeled down and taken Hunter's hand and said, 'Please, let me be one of you.')

"I'm used to sneaking off planets," Kaliyo brags. She then admits, "But this would be one of the harder ones. All these rules, agent. All these rules."

"Yes," Aa'lynne agrees, as she pays passage for a speeder to the spaceport. "Well, I didn't make them."

Aashleen is Sith.

Pure Sith, with the red skin and strange eyebrow ridges and gold jewelry imbedded in to her skin. Her skin is covered with golden makeup, and she wears her hair up in a messy bun. Aa'lynne's younger sister wears a bun like that, only far more neat, and that small, simple resemblance is part of why Aa'lynne likes Aashleen.

Aashleen is also Sith, in the other way, of course- all Sith are Sith, Aa'lynne assumes, as she's never met one who wasn't. Aashleen is a simple apprentice, serving under a Darth who has no position on the Dark Council (Baras, who serves under Darth Vengean (who is a Councilor), Aa'lynne can just barely remember). Yet she is the only tie to the Sith that Aa'lynne has.

It is not a formal tie, by any means. She had contacted the young Sith and offered information and support, and Aashleen had taken it with heavy suspicion. Aa'lynne has been somewhat surprised by that: didn't all Sith expect to get everything in life handed to them free?

"I have reviewed the information you sent me on the Battle of Druckenwell," Aashleen is saying. She stands like she's used to military procedure, like she's actually reporting to a superior officer- and Aa'lynne thinks, not for the first time, that Aashleen is a very strange Sith. "I thank you for it."

"You requested it, and I provided it," Aa'lynne says with fake warmth. She can't do that anymore, of course. Before, it was easy- just as Keeper for a small favor, intelligence information on some subject or another, and then feed it to Aashleen. Now, she'll have to do her own research. "Was the information on Lieutenant Quinn of any use?"

Aashleen's eyes twitch to the side, as though she's hiding something, but she nods jerkily. "Captain, now. My Lord promoted him. He now travels at my side."

"Skilled companions are a reward of their own," Aa'lynne says with a smile.

Honestly, from what she had found out, this Quinn looked a lot like Temple to her- utterly loyal Imperial Military who did quite well in their service but because of outside circumstances were held back from promotion. However, unlike Temple, Quinn had ties to another: strong ties, to this Darth Baras of theirs, a debt the man seemed to feel he could never repay. That, Aa'lynne thought, would be a hard bond to sever if she had tried to use the man, and she had warned Aashleen of that bond, if not exactly straightforwardly.

However, Aashleen seemed to be just as loyal Darth Baras. Aa'lynne had always thought every Sith was constantly aiming to kill their superior, but Aashleen was full of surprises.

"Yes," Aashleen says, "they truly are. He and Vette have been quite supportive of me." Aashleen's eyes flicker to the side again, then she refocuses on the holocall. "I wanted to contact you now, as I was not certain when I would get another chance to speak with you."

Damn. Aa'lynne makes herself look worried. "Are you traveling through some dangerous territory?"

"...Tattooine," Aashleen says, after a long moment. "My Lord has a mission for me, and I must not fail him. I... do know that he is spending time on Korriban. I fear if I fail in this mission, I will be replaced."

"I am sure you won't fail," Aa'lynne says.

Aashleen better not. She's as close to the Sith as Aa'lynne has; to lose her would be months of wasted time and resources.

Aashleen bows her head. "You are kind."

"What mission has your Lord entasked you with?" Aa'lynne asks casually. "Perhaps I can help? I am not far from Tattooine."

"I thank you for your offer," Aashleen says, "but I believe this is a mission I must deal with alone. It is of great importance to my Lord, and... I cannot speak of it. I do not want my Lord to find another apprentice."

"Oh, certainly," Aa'lynne says, with a fake little laugh. (Kaliyo takes the time to poke her head in to the room just to roll her eyes, then disappear again back around the corner.) "I wouldn't want you to betray your Lord's trust. You are a very dedicated servant."

"We all have our duties," Aashleen says.

And truer words were never spoken, but Aa'lynne's duties have always been to the Empire, not the Sith.

"I'll let you get back to your mission, then," Aa'lynne says. "Be well."

"Yes, thank you." Aashleen, unlike her brother, never seems to smile. Sith can be like that. A very dour race, for all people say that about the Chiss. "I will try to contact you again once I have finished my duties here. Thank you again for the information."

"It was no problem at all," Aa'lynne says, and she lets the call cut off.

"This is the truth," Aa'lynne says out loud, pacing her quarters at some hateful time in the middle of the night.

The Sith and the Empire are tied together in a thousand ways, many of them unfortunate. Aa'lynne does not hate the Sith as a whole: without them, the Empire would fall to the blasted Republic and it's collections of strange little people who think holding hands and debating for years are ways to run a government. No, the Sith as they are are strong, powerful, charismatic fighters and useful to the empire in thousands of little ways.

What she hates is their damned influence.

The Sith should sit apart from the Empire, like the Jedi sit apart from the Republic. They should have no influence in Imperial Military matters and Imperial Intelligence, unless one decides to devote their influence their and rises like any ordinary grunt would. They should not gain special powers, special privileges, just for being Sith- for after all, all they are is Sith.

And Aa'lynne knows that Sith can be killed, and has done so many times.

The Emperor is Sith. That is acceptable: the Emperor has proved he has the most right to rule by virtue of no one displacing him, and Aa'lynne certainly does not believe in High Treason. The Dark Council is Sith: very well, the Emperor can choose his councilors from whoever he does, and positions such as the Minster of Intelligence and Minister of War are influential and taken by non-Sith.

But the fact that there is a member of the Dark Council that's very sphere is Intelligence? It fills Aa'lynne with a visceral sort of hatred. She does not know which particular Dark Council member has the position, but Aa'lynne hates him- or her. It would have been they who ordered the Minister of Intelligence's execution.

(One day, revenge. But not today.)

Unfortunately, she alone cannot change the Empire. Even with her crew, they cannot change the Empire. Affect it, perhaps, but change will not be possible. Aa'lynne needs more contacts. She needs more informats. She needs someone in the military, someone in Intelligence (her brother?), a Sith who is loyal to her-

(She thinks, maybe, this must have been how the Star Cabal started, but she quickly pushes that thought away because she doesn't dare examine it for too long.)

The last.

This Lord Zash is looking for an apprentice, and Darth Baras may be looking for one as well. If she could control that Apprentice... then it would be a start. And a start is all she has, at the moment.

She crawls on to her bed, still in her day clothing (though she'd showered and changed from her blood soaked outfit before contacting Aashleen. Vector beside her fakes sleep for her sake: she likes privacy in her pacing and ranting, yet he can't sleep while she's so out of tune with herself. So he pretends to sleep and she pretends she's alone and it's all very silly, but everyone on the ship plays silly games of sorts. Aa'lynne touches him on the shoulder and lightly shakes him, like he needs to be woken, and Vector stretches and yawns, like he was just awakened.

Aa'lynne smiles at him. It is grim and cold, like the planet she was born on.

"Love," she says, gently and kindly yet her mind a million miles away. "How do you feel about adoption?"