Dym Ledax reclined on his bantha-skin divan, his robes artistically and meticulously arranged around him. Two blue-green Twi’lek women attended him, one of the perks to being the CEO of the DSA. The air was tinted with incense, aqua-plank. Dym’s favorite, for it hinted faintly at his race’s brine-infused homeworld air on Champala. The furnishings in this room, too, were designed to remind Dym of his homeworld. Every shape contained within the chamber was that of coral, shellfish, and seaweeds. The walls were designed to look like natural cave formations smoothed by tidal waters, and though their surfaces were padded durasteel, the design was effective.
The door into the main chamber of his quarters chimed once before allowing his daughter, Mym, to enter unbidden. The teenaged Chagrian now charging up to him was of a blue-skinned hue similar to Dym’s own. She had lethorns, but not the tall horns about the head of male Chagrian. Her lethorns were short, terminating just at the tops of her breasts, still yet to reach their full length; after all Mym was only just barely an adult. Her eyes were metallic gold, and shimmered in the dim light with a fervor which warned Dym that this conversation would not be about begging him for the credits to buy some new trinket or coat.
Mym was wearing a one-piece dress made to resemble the shimmering surface of the inside of shellfish from Champala. It blended a choker design into a halter top and then into a full ankle-length dress which hugged Mym at her hips in one flawless piece of fabric. The dress also allowed Mym’s back to be fully bared, and had slits up the sides to allow freer movement. It was a Champalan design, which meant it also could be worn underwater to an even greater effect than in dry environments. The effect underwater would be similar, however, to the effect that the wind generated by Mym’s swiftness had on the dress, causing it to billow out and flap in the air.
“Father,” Mym said in their native tongue. She was clutching a datapad in her left hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but we’ve just had word from Chief Myrto.” Mym brought herself up short before her father, and inclined her head in respect. He felt the wind she generated passing by his cheeks as he smiled. Mym was both his daughter, and his personal assistant in the DSA. It was a good position for her to have should she need to take over the family business.
“And?” Dym asked.
“He has failed. He reports that the rebel must have escaped in a ship he was not watching for. He begs your forgiveness, and confesses that he must be suffering from some malady.”
“A likely excuse,” Dym snorted, thoroughly disgusted.
“Father,” Mym said, lowering her voice, “he confesses that until he reviewed the logs, he had no idea why he was in orbit around Nar Dundo. He says it is as though his memory had been erased of its purpose.”
“What?” Dym whispered. This was serious indeed, if what Mym had just said were true. “That is impossible, unless a Sith were somehow involved.”
Mym nodded, and for the first time Dym recognized her fervor as fear.
“Fear not daughter, we are relatives of the Lord Ledax himself. No Sith would dare make war on our hallowed relative, nor his family. We are safe, though I confess Myrto may not be.” The thought, in light of his security chief’s latest failure, amused him. “The greater danger remains the sympathetic ears the rebel may have reached on Nar Dundo. I take it Myrto has no idea which ship the rebel escaped on, nor its trajectory?”
Mym shook her head in the negative. “I am sorry father.”
“Don’t be,” Dym snarled, “don't ever be sorry. Sorrow is for the weak! It is not befitting of a Ledax! We must be as remorseless as an eel, or we are nothing!” Dym inhaled and drew himself up to a seated position on the divan. Mym had shrunk before his thundering voice, but now he cooled his head and bade her relax.
“We still have the rebel Jiorden Crux in our possession. He has been most helpful in discovering the locations of the rebel’s operations. This rebellion will be soon put down, and then the danger to us and our lord will be done with. Fear not dear daughter.”
“There is something more father,” Mym said in a meek voice which meant that Dym was not going to like what she had to say. “A starship entered the Detari System roughly fifteen minutes ago.”
“What kind of starship?” Dym was suddenly on alert. Starships came and went frequently in this system, so if it were an event worth noting it could not be good tidings.
“It is the Sedrantor, father,” Mym said, and cast her eyes at the ground.
A cold chill went up Dym’s back. The Sedrantor was the flagship of Dym’s cousin, the Sith Lord Ledax, and a Super Star Destroyer at that. If Lord Ledax himself had taken note of their troubles and had come himself, the situation had just become life-threatening. Lord Ledax would not tolerate the incompetence of Myrto, nor the excessive time it had taken to make progress against the rebels, and he would take it out entirely on Dym’s flesh.
“How long have they been here?” Dym thundered, voice full of panic.
“I told you father, fifteen minutes.” Mym tried to control her own fear and manage her father’s at the same time.
“Have they hailed us yet?” Dym launched himself from his divan and started for his daughter’s much smaller frame.
At that moment the door to Dym’s chamber shuddered and flew open as though forced by some unseen hand of immense strength. Beyond the portal, his features cast in shadow from the florescent lights behind, stood a tall Chagrian male with large “S” curving horns, and bejeweled lethorns reaching almost to his waist. He was clad from shoulders to feet in a black cloak which seemed to suck the light from the corridor about him. Only his head was truly visable, and that showed a pale sickly blue face with thick black veins beneath the translucent skin pulsing as though independently alive. His eyes were so deeply bloodshot as to have become red pools in which the gold rings of his irises swam. His mouth appeared fixed in a permanent sneer even though it was apparent the expression was not intentional. Dym recognized him instantly, even before he spoke.
“We did not hail you worm,” the figure said. His voice crackled as though put through a poorly functioning speaker that made every word of his Chagri a curse.
Dym was not suicidal, nor was his daughter. They both fell to their knees and bowed their heads before the heir to their liege.
“Lord Kedrian Ledax!” Dym exclaimed, “you honor us with your presence!”
“Do I worm?” the eldest son of the Sith Lord spat. “I do not wish to be here any more than I would wish to be traversing the edge of the Maw, but my father has bid me come here and succeed where you are so catastrophically failing. He wishes this fool’s uprising cease immediately before it becomes an embarrassment and he is forced to remove your head from your shoulders. It would seem he bears you some affection, a weakness I do not have I assure you.”
At this point Lord Ledax turned to glance over his shoulder, and spoke in the forbidden tongue of the Lords of the Dark, the tongue of the Sith. From behind him came three figures, all clad in black cloaks with their deep hoods drawn so that not a bit of their features could be discerned. All three entered the room and roughly grabbed the two twi’lek women, shoving them out of the way.
Lord Ledax strode gallantly into the room and moved past his cousins to seat himself upon the divan which a few minutes ago Dym had occupied. “Cousin,” the Lord continued, “call back your nerf-herder Myrto. He is as effective as a toothless mynock. I would have the firepower he carries within my reach, however.”
Lord Ledax’s eyes fell upon the datapad still in Mym’s hands. “Ah, the report I assume?” He held out his pale-blue palm from beneath his cloak. The datapad flew from Mym’s grasp and landed in the Lord’s outstretched digits. His fingernails were so long and curved as to make the appendage look more like a claw than a proper hand.
“So the rebel has escaped has he?” Kedrian chuckled, as though it were amusing. The words cut Dym as though by a vibroblade. He could feel his whole body burning with the shame that his liege’s progeny was inflicting upon him. A quick glance at his own offspring revealed that she too, shuddered in the presence of these dark lords.
“Escaped you perhaps,” Kedrian continued to muse, “but no one escapes the Sith.” Once more he turned to his companions and spoke in the high-tongue. His three companions bowed deeply and headed for the door.
“And now,” the Sith said looking upon the Twi’leks, and speaking in Basic. “I would make use of you.”
Dym took this as his cue, and began to inch towards the exit on his hands and knees.
“Crawl worm,” Kedrian laughed, “leave, but not you cousin. You,” he indicated Mym, “I think will stay here.”
“My lord please!” Dym yelped, “she is-“
“What?” Kedrian mocked, “a child? Not to my eyes old worm. She looks like a fine thing indeed to me worm. No go before I lose my patience.”
Shuddering in shame, Dym exited on his belly. Behind him the door to his chambers slid shut and locked in place. He was about to rise to his feet and storm off in anger to contact his cousin, when he noticed he was not alone. Slowly, he looked up.
Three night-cloaked figures stared down at him from hoods which revealed nothing but darkness within. Dym shuddered and continued his crawl.