With a single fluid motion, I slipped the mask free. Suppressing the urge to grimace took some effort as the full brightness of the room hit me all at once. Yeah, the crap the bugs were pumping into me was keeping my pupils dilated at all times.
At least Darth Angral was doing me a favor by not hiding on Hoth or some other ice world.
...
"Well, how about that," the usurper king said. "You even look normal."
"My apologies if Your Majesty was expecting someone with yellow eyes and a penchant for murder," I said.
"So… what's your game?" the king asked, despite me having been perfectly clear in stating my intentions. "What does doing the right thing get you?"
"It gets me the support of Jedi and Sith alike," I pointed out. "It gets me a unique perspective on things that the rest of the Empire does not share."
Translation: I am not like any Sith you have ever met. Set aside your preconceptions.
For several long moments, the usurper studied me, looking down at me from the raised dais holding up that miserable excuse of a throne. After a long moment, he finally spoke once more.
"You've made your point, Sith," he grumbled. "I accept your gift. Have my ancestor's remains delivered to Alderaan. My ships in orbit will take custody of the remains once they arrive. You will remain here until they do. If I find out you have been playing me false, I will gut you myself with a smile on my face."
In other words, I had best hope I was as good as my word.
"I accept Your Highness's terms," I solemnly declared, before continuing in a lighter tone. "It will give me all the more opportunities to pitch my next offer."
"First a gift, then a deal," he said. "Were you a trader before you became a Sith?"
"A man of business," I confirmed, putting my mask on again. "Though I suspect my five minutes are just about up, so I will graciously wait for Your Majesty to grant me another audience to outline my next proposal."
Personally, I already knew I would not be hearing from him for a while. At least until Trask Ulgo's remains were safely in the hands of Bouris. It would give him more time to process what I had revealed about myself. And, in a worst-case scenario, more time to convince himself that it had been a mere fluke. In a best-case scenario, it planted a seed that maybe I could be trusted.
But… it hardly mattered what he did while waiting for the remains to arrive.
Once he had his ancestor's body in front of him, there was no way to predict which way he would jump.
In other words: a highly unpredictable, volatile, and difficult-to-navigate mess.
Exactly my area of expertise, really.
"Fine. Sergeant, return the Sith's datapad and give him what he needs to get his courier here." Then, for the first time, he turned to address the Little Jedi. "Master Jedi, if I might have a few minutes of your time, there are some things we need to discuss."
"By all means," she said. She shot me a questioning glance before taking a step toward the throne.
Meanwhile, the soldier who had brought us here returned my datapad to me. I pressed a few buttons on it, ordering my team on Taris to have it brought to Alderaan. I'd had the order queued up beforehand, but it would still take a few days until it arrived. A few days I would be spending as a guest of House Ulgo.
Still, as I was brought into a luxuriously appointed suite, I decided it could certainly be worse.
When the Little Jedi joined me a scant half hour later, I decided I should stop those kinds of thoughts.
Eh, who cares. If Bouris Ulgo was going to make me wait, at least I had some good company.
...
"There is something wrong with you, Nestor." The Little Jedi's words cut through the murk that clouded my mind. Still seated at the long marble counter of the apartments where Bouris Ulgo had ordered me to stay, I lifted my head from the cool stone and the barely touched drink to focus on the Little Jedi.
Much like myself, she was clad in vestments of Ulgo make, red and highlighted with gold and black. Since we didn't pack any spare clothes, the honor of King Ulgo had demanded we be provided with new clothes.
I didn't mind, personally.
Alderaanian fashion did wonders for highlighting a figure.
And I liked looking good.
"That's called being a Sith Lord, Little Jedi," I managed to say, the muscles in my jaw bunching up and a lance of fire spreading through my body. The epicenter, as I instinctively knew, was on my left side. On my shoulder and on my chest.
Yeah, the bugs were making themselves heard, and I was completely out of painkillers.
"I'm being serious," she said. "It's been… what, three days since we got here? And I have not seen you sleep even once. Even if I cannot identify what words are going through your head, I know that you are not constructing some great plan. Those thoughts of yours have grown deafening."
"... it's the bugs," I admitted. "I think. I haven't been able to sleep since I got the damn things."
"That was a week ago," she pointed out. "Nestor, the human body cannot survive for an entire week without sleep without breaking down. Physically breaking down. Not sleeping will kill you."
"I'm sorry, did you want that privilege for yourself?" I muttered.
"I want you to not die," she said. "Not yet, at least."
"How sweet," I muttered. "But unless you have a way of sedating me without removing chunks of my flesh to remove the needle, we're fresh out of options."
"I could knock you unconscious," she suggested. For a brief moment, I considered it. Traumatic brain injuries did have their appeal. Unfortunately, I had had enough of those to last me a lifetime.
"Brain damage doesn't really heal," I pointed out. "And anything that knocks you unconscious from the impact would cause brain damage. Not good. Anything else in that mind of yours?"
For a brief moment, the Little Jedi looked like she was wondering if my request for suggestions had been genuine. Luckily, my tone had been as genuine as my intentions, and it was a very brief wait.
"And you can't just filter out whatever the bugs are pumping into you?" she asked.
"Tried that," I said, shaking my head. Well, more of a half-shake. Rapid head movements caused sudden spikes of pain at my temples. "Didn't work. As soon as the inflow of uppers subsides, I pass out. Since I can't keep it going while unconscious, I wake up pretty quickly."
Silence reigned for a moment as my words sank in. Without consulting an anesthesiologist to create a perfectly dosed cocktail of sedatives that would counter an unknown blend of stimulants for long enough to let me sleep, there was shockingly little that I could do.
"... do you have a Plan D?" she asked.
"I have a Plan E," I admitted. "Plan D is for whatever ideas come up until I have no other alternative."
"I take it Plan E is one of utter desperation?" she asked. "It's not the Dark Side, is it?"
"Like I said, it is the absolute last-ditch plan," I said.
"You're serious."
It was not a question.
"There is a way to sustain yourself through the Dark Side of the Force," I answered. "I don't know how, but that hasn't stopped me from figuring out other techniques, and the principle seems simple enough."
"If it's so simple, why haven't you done so already?" she asked, her voice taking on a curious note. Had I been fully awake with a mind that wasn't severely sleep-deprived, I had no doubt that I could have puzzled it out. Unfortunately, I was severely sleep-deprived.
"Because the Dark Side is dangerous," I answered. "It doesn't start with killing a room full of children. No, it starts noble. It starts with something that makes sense, something admirable, like saving someone you love, or stopping a war, or some other cause greater than yourself. But that shortcut only gives you a taste of power, of what could be, and lets you imagine what all you could accomplish - what good you could do - if you had more of that power. If I start down that path, it will end in tragedy. No. No Dark Side. Not unless there is absolutely no other option."
"You make it easy to forget that you are a SIth Lord when you say things like that," she pointed out. In response, I lashed out with an arm to grab a hold of her shoulder. Beneath those Ulgo robes with golden stars hidden unobtrusively throughout the pattern, I could feel bundles of muscle tense up as if ready to strike. A reminder that this woman whose day job was killing the deadliest people in the galaxy.
But she did not move to remove the hand.
Thankfully.
...
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