The Rust Princess had been adrift off Hoth for three weeks.

Astara lay in bed and listened to the tumult, the killik silk sheet shrouding her from the crown of her head to her bare toes. It sounded as if Talos and Khem had joined forces against 2V; the garble of protest meeting the droid's insistence upon painting their quarters- for the fifth time in as many days- ended with a familiar metallic thud. No doubt Ashara and Xalek were about somewhere together as they were wont to be lately. She'd seen nary a word exchanged between them yet something was afoot. The blooming of what could be more than friendship, perhaps, but soon enough there would be trouble, there always was. They were all bored, her crew, bored and confused and, except for Khem, frightened. She cared as much for them as she did her own children: deeply. The intense loyalty of such a ragtag bunch for so long...

The sound of footsteps and a blurred figure seen through the thin veil of fabric interrupted her musing.

"Hey, you," Andronikos, his tone laced with irritation, "call. On the holo. It's your brother." The last word spat out with rare venomous disdain, he grabbed a handful of sheet and yanked it away from her face. He was the only being alive who would dare do such a thing, and she knew he was all too aware of that. "I'm not talkin' to him any more than I already have."

She sat up, readied glare fading at the sight of him. Like trouble, it always was- she couldn't pull rank with him. The saber might be wielded, the blasters whipped out, face-offs over the most trivial matters, but the spats only ever led to other more carnal activities. At that thought Astara reached out to trace his tattooed mouth, jaw, slow sinuous strokes. "What does he want?"

A roll of eyes for a reply, and he leaned towards her with a half-smile. "About last night, you keep adding to the scar collection like that and you're gonna wind up killing one happy man-"

"He didn't tell you, did he?" Another thud from the direction of the bridge accompanied by Khem's guttural exclamations. Her fingers dropped from her husband's jawline and curled up in vexation. "Why are you not interfering in that? Do you not hear?"

"Yeah, I hear. Think I've been hiding in the hold all day? How could I not hear. Nah. Reminds me of my cantina days. It's entertainment, least until we go wampa hunting again. Get off this bolt-bucket. Just snow and blood and you and me and nobody strolling in whenever they damn well want." He flashed her an engaging grin which morphed into a snarl almost quicker than she could register. "I know what this is about, didn't need him to tell me. Sooner you deal with him the better," he pulled away, strode out of the room, calling back, "because he ain't nothing but trouble."

There was no time to make herself presentable, regal, and that in itself was bothersome. She might not need to adhere to pretense around her husband and crew but her brother was another matter. Didn't need him to tell me. No. Neither did she yet she was surely in for an earful. Astara slid into a crimson brocart robe, hastened to the holoterminal, and noticed 2V slumped against the wall. The droid was hissing with sparks, gibbering about meal plans.

Khem and Talos were conspicuously absent.

Of course they were.

And there on the holo- her brother Drakkach, disgustingly tidy in his uniform, glowering with his hands clasped before him.

"Drakkach. Always a delight." She painted on her best nonchalant face. Must stay composed. Must.

"Let's dispense with the pleasantries," his hands unknotted, an index finger pointing in blunt accusation, "you stepped down from the Dark Council. Your daughter- my niece- has taken up the mantle of Jedi. And I see you're still married to that scrofulous pirate-"

"You got a lotta nerve," Andronikos, watching from near the crackling shape of 2V, "to bait me like that, just keep it up, 'scrofulous', you-"

"Drak! Sir, I mean." From wherever they'd been dallying Ashara and Xalek had wandered in. "How are you?" She bowed her head. Xalek simply stood impassive, unreadable, at her side.

Not for the first time Astara wondered if the Togruta harbored an unhealthy attraction to Drakkach. It was all she could do to keep her voice level, tense as she was. "This is a private call. Leave. Now."

"Certainly, my Lord," a tinge of annoyance in Ashara's tone. As quickly as they'd appeared they disappeared.

Drakkach crossed his arms to mirror Astara's stance. As fraternal twins they possessed an uncanny ability to read each other like torn-open books. "So the rogue Jedi remains as well...allowing her to consort with your apprentice? Revolting." A glance slanted in Andronikos's direction. "By 'scrofulous' I mean I will never hold you in anything but the highest contempt. I blame you for my sister's softening. She's forgotten what it means to be Sith." His eyes fixed on her once more, corrupted reddish-orange orbs. "There's been chatter. With Rhexi fresh off Tython and your departure from the Council I feel bound by blood and only by blood to inform you that you've become a target. There's suspicion. It's being said that you've turned on the Empire. Chatter. Chatter rapidly escalating into action. To be painfully clear it's more than bloody chatter. Painfully, Astara. It's a scandal."

"Where are you?" Panic fluttered in her chest, unseemly for a Sith let alone one of the formerly most powerful Darths in the known galaxy. Andronikos left his spot at the far wall, embraced her protectively. She began to quake with rage; if not for the arms around her she'd be breaking her own bones and his, so furious and flaring was the anger. Anger and fear. To let her brother see the fear would be equivalent to presenting him with her head in a gilded lockbox. She reigned it in, pushed it as far down as she could, so far down he might only be able to detect wisps of it but not far enough that she couldn't access it later. Feed upon it later. "What are you saying? Is the channel- secured?"

"Classified. It's secured. You know what I'm saying." Drakkach's expression said everything he didn't vocalize.

"You won't catch us," her husband growled, "and even if you do you're goin' through me first. You're a piece of work, Drak. Empire's finest. Hope you haven't bothered the kids-"

"Anddrach? Shada? Why would I? They're coming along smashingly. By the time you're found- oh, yes, run and try to hide, do, it makes my job more interesting- they may well be on the execution squad." Drakkach smiled, a thin curvature of lips which sent jolts of cold through Astara. "I'm quite proud of them. You, however. You're a disgrace, sister. A disgrace to me. A disgrace to the Empire. You cannot be allowed to further conspire wi-"

The call was terminated by Andronikos's fist.

Astara stared at him for long seconds. He returned her gaze.

Little Sith needs help? Like the shadow killer he was Khem had slipped into the chamber unseen and unheard.

A sick certainty bubbled in her mind. She couldn't involve them in this. Not her crew, not directly. It was too late to extract her husband from the mess but the rest...they could still be saved. "No. Yes. I want you to go back to Korriban with Talos. There's something in the tomb," she faltered at the lie but only for a split instant, "Tulak Hord. You know it better than Talos. Both of you together can find it for me. A remnant, an artifact. Behind the walls. You'll know it when you feel it. Devour everyone who stands in your path. I don't care how repulsive that is to Talos. Do what you must."

I will find this without the help of small tomb-lover.

"He has to go with you. No questions."

It will be done. He is sick on me I will eat him too. He exited, disturbingly quiet for such a mass of muscle and hunger.

"Korriban? Kinda obvious there. Though maybe if they do stay in the tombs. Where we sending the other two?" Andronikos paused. She could feel his scrutiny. He knew. He just knew when it was about to happen. "Astara-"

He gripped her arms right before she hit the floor in a sudden swoon. The echoes of the ghosts were weaving blurriness in her mind again. They were unrelentingly cruel, more cruel than she'd ever been during the lengthy red streak she'd cut through the galaxy on her way to the Council. Murder and mayhem, taking toll. The madness would never wane. It was imprinted within her in some unreachable place, unable to be scorched out by will and need. There were times when sleep eluded her for nights on end, the phantoms clamoring, the concern about them having poisoned her offspring...

She blinked up at him. "Anddrach. Shada. They wouldn't-"

"Anddrach won't. He's my boy. Our boy. Rhexi, she has her own path. Doesn't make her any less ours. Shada's going to do whatever Andy does. Always has. I told you back then- I want to be here. I'm here," he began to lead her back to their quarters, pushing her along like she was a barely-animate statue. "Shouldn't be too hard to find them. Bring them home. Don't give Drak the chance to get to them first," back at the bed, and he lifted the covers and guided her underneath, "and don't let the ghosts keep haunting, huh? I'll fix up 2V, get you a glass of that Corellian wine. Make that a few glasses for both of us," a bitter laugh, "or why not the whole bottle, huh? We're gonna need it."

"A toast. To the Empire," she murmured, there in the relative safety of the silk nest.

"Shut up, Sith."

He was gone before she could work up enough indignation to shock him.