Saga - Legends "Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light" (drama about Palp´s niece, a mix of legend & canon

Ditto what Darth Gangrenous said, hope you'll be better soon. And happy Saint Nikolaus Day day to you too.

 

I was too ill to enjoy the feast of Saint Nikolaas, leave alone the sweets going with it. I can hardly breath & cough all the time. Somehow I managed posting & reading some stuff of other people. Otherwise I sleep a lot & live off herbal tea with honey.

 

Nice poems and she is right; the Jedi will survive

 

I hope so, because I just finished Chapter 20 - spoiler alert - which will be about going from Scarif to Jedha. And Chapter 21 will be on Jedha.

 

Okay, so first of all I made it through the chapters up to this with the AO3 link that you gave me. Really interesting and impressive use of the old and new Star Wars universe, plus some neat Earthly touches. (Whatever else House Palpatine has been up to over the centuries, they certainly seem to have remembered some cultural history that the rest of the Galaxy lost a long time ago. I thought it was really neat that Nagina and Sheev both know Sanskrit as an old language -- considering the real-world influences on the mythos, that's a nifty detail.) I like the addition of little everyday details and non-canon OC's along with the intersections with the major canon storylines.

The familial relationship between Nagina and Palpatine is really interesting, since it's not a cut-and-dried "she's his trace of the light side" kind of thing. I'm fascinated by their arguments, and by how they're sometimes almost congenial/affectionate and other times fraught and full of anger. The way Palpatine is depicted here doesn't seem out of character, which is a really fine line to tread with a story like this. He's not actually any less awful (as we see later in this chapter), just a bit more difficult to define than expected. Which does seem suiting for a Sith.

Also, the part with Nagina trying to find a bathroom stall in Sith Plot Central and running into Grievous (of all people) was really funny. Stick me in the GFFA and I'd probably be in the same straits -- sorry everyone, I know there's a space battle/lightsaber duel/bounty hunter war but I really gotta run to the the nearest fresher!

New chapter 16 section:

It's neat to see this little Rebel cell forming, one that looks nothing like what we see in the OT and yet may have one of the most dangerous and important jobs of all. Old Jho is a sweetie, as always.

Nagina and Lor are sweet, and it's almost funny that they have to sneak around the way they do -- since neither of them is really the sort to be one for "star-crossed" anything; they both seem eminently down to earth in and of themselves. It's the chaos of their surroundings that makes everything uncertain. I do hope that Lor is proven wrong and no one gets caught, though that seems like hoping too much with Nagina's usual luck.

It's unnerving that Palpatine has that close of contact through the Force at such a distance. But I suppose they are family, and were close as well for a long time even if recent events have created a rift.

Kitty! "What are you doing talking to Sith Lords, human? This important -- I saw the vast emptiness at the bottom of the food dish!" Loth-cats are one of the best things from SWR, and I like the show to begin with.

This version of Sate Pestage is about as abhorrent as one could imagine. Fits well with what we know of him from Legends -- that creepy guy who hovers around Palpatine's vicinity like a vulture. Icky!

And the award for most dysfunctional extended family goes to godfather Pestilence Pestage. Good thing he's leaving, though I'm not sure if I trust him to stay gone...

Really liked this section. It's not always the dramatic, flashy things that add up to a better outcome in the end, and Nagina has the perspective to understand that.

Nagina's recall of the Maul incident is a disturbing peek into the seriously messed-up side of her and Palpatine's relationship. He may never have physically harmed her, but he's more than willing to cause her suffering through other people -- which is just as much a form of abuse. That he's attached to Nagina (and from reading the whole story thus far, I can believe that much) doesn't really change Sheev's fundamental tendency towards cruelty.

Or, as someone else will say, "Your overconfidence is your weakness."

 

Okay-dokey, read Chapter 15.

Well written and described as normal.

Only item of note is that Nagina has been flapping her mouth since I started reading about her, so when Krennic says something like "You have always had your secrets," I think he should display some sort of awareness that there has been a sea change in the woman, and instead gauge it more as "You used to be so secretive...what happened?"

Regretfully I am going to have to bow out of this project. However, you have been one of only two stories that I have come back to read multiple chapters, so well done for that.

And I still love the title!

 

I am thoroughly enjoying this. And don't think I missed the Maz Kanata cameo.

 

Thanks for commenting, Cowgirl Jedi 1701. This story continuous on the 6th January with a new chapter.

At present my dear husband DarthUncle and I are still in the CZ Republic getting spoiled senseless by his twin, our sister-in-law and our nephew. I already used a pen and paper to work on Chapter 22.

And as I already told my dear beta Kahara there will definitely be a sequel to this story, which got already planned and discussed by my husband & me on a train journey between Osnabrueck and Berlin a couple of weeks ago.

 

Sad to see you leave, Sith-I-5, but I fully understand. Thanks for commenting! And I will follow your advice and make the necessary change in a certain chapter!

 

Oh, almost forgot that this is one of those feedback comments that made me cry with joy and gratitude while I read it. Actually, it inspired me to write on until Chapter 22... which is... mega spoiler... still on Jedha!

So brace yourself for more excitement coming your way, Kahara!

 

Dear Kahara: I update tonight, as recently promised, because I have a busy weekend ahead of me (including the monthly SW dinner). If there are grave mistakes within the text (= grammar, writing or logical ones) I can still correct them afterwards.

I hope the rest of my readers is not too annoyed with me. English is still not my native language.

But I am addicted to writing, sigh!




Chapter 17:


As I store the Jedi items among my most precious belongings, I happen to find a long cherished book of mine. A childhood classic that my uncle used to read to me.


I feel a thrill run through my veins, compelling and undeniable. It makes me search the yellowish pages for the lines that I need to see right now.


“I have forgotten that men cannot see Unicorns. If men no longer know what they're looking at, there may well be other unicorns in the world yet – unknown – and glad of it.”


I press the book against my chest.


If the last of the Jedi want a chance of survival they will need to keep a low profile. They will have to be like unicorns, hiding in plain sight. Like Sheev and his Sith master Darth Plagueis did for many decades.


In order to win a game against a powerful enemy, one sometimes needs to adopt parts of his rulebook.


The trouble with Sheev is that his rulebook is constantly changing. His cruelty knows no bounds, nor does his need for revenge.


I remember what Lor told me about the slain Jedi padawans and younglings on the temple premises. Their bodies had burns that could only have been caused by a light sabre.


“What will you do when the last Jedi is in the dust before you, dying away?” I ask aloud. “Who will be your next group of victims then? The Gungans? The Wookies? The Twi'lek race?”


There is radio silence, but my uncle is out there. I can feel him. And I am sure that it is vice versa for him. It will always be thus. But at present he is not willing to establish another mental contact.


I get up from the mattress and walk up to my wardrobe.


After some rummaging, I choose a nightgown with long sleeves in Tyrian purple. That colour is also known as Imperial dye, Imperial red. It seems fitting. Not only because of my uncle. It does not easily fade, but becomes brighter with weathering and sunlight instead.


I will not fade on Lothal. This much I owe the rest of the galaxy.


********************************************************************


Not much later, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my hair. Here and there I spot tell-tale wisps of grey. I wish it were just like a white-cap, but I am not a wave crest. Otherwise I would drown Sheev and myself in my sorrow.


“You can do better than this, Nagina!” I reprimand myself. “Much better.”


My uncle needs a worthy adversary for his crying game. I will not be his victim.


I think of the Solleu River as it rushes towards the Virdugo waterfall. My movements need to have a definite path, albeit an often unexpected one. I have to become like water.


The ancient chant comes to my lips automatically.


“Born of water
Cleansing, powerful
Healing, changing I am.”


As I repeat the words over and over again, my hair brush rhythmically makes its journey.


Suddenly, I hear a juddering intake of breath behind me.




Through the mirror I stare at the intruder. Or better to say I stare right at the mouth of his heavy blaster pistol.


“Orson!” I yelp.


His face is a mask of pain and sadness. I can hear the raggedness of his breathing. “Ina!” he whispers as he turns me around to face him directly. His eyes burn with the clear, deep blue that exists in the heart of candle flames.


“I am sorry,” I blurt out, thinking that this is about Lor.


His face is a ghastly white, the eyes are red-rimmed.


“I am sorry,” I repeat, for I have nothing else to offer.


“Don't!” His voice is hoarse with shock, and holds a note halfway between disbelief and pleading. “I was the one failing you.”


I do not quite get his logic, but remaining silent is the best idea. He seems to be in a talkative mood. I should just listen.


The blaster clatters on the floor as Orson engulfs me in a rib cracking hug. He has the strength of an adult Wookie male, even though his demeanour is more that of a rancor.


“You are not dead,” he says in a voice scarcely audible.


This is definitely not about my love life or me hiding Jedi artefacts in my home.


He pulls a fold of his white cloak around me and draws me even closer to him.


“I will not lose you again,” Orson says, soft against my ear. “I swear that I will not.”


There is a lonely quality to his voice that I have to respond to. He needs comfort and he needs it badly. “It seems that I am not going anywhere right now,” I joke, forcing cheerfulness into my voice. “You’re basically clinging to me like in the old days. Please do not hop on my arm!”


His embrace tightens to an uncomfortable level. “If it were up to me, I would keep you safe somewhere else. Lothal is too far away from my current duties. It took me hours to get here.”


I should not ask him what those duties are. Or where exactly. The less I know, the better.


Orson clears his throat and tugs at his collar. “Sate Pestage is a dangerous man.” He swallows hard. So hard that I can actually feel the tremor pass through him. “People die all around him like flies...”


I stand on tiptoe, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “My godfather is unpredictable and volatile, true. But he knows better than to enrage Sheev. Sate would not dare to harm a single hair on my head. Besides, I am not a fly.”


He gives a frown, then rolls his eyes. “The briefing about your case file should have been more thorough. A godfather. Fancy that!”


I shrug. “Trust my uncle to be sloppy now and again. He cannot be a genius all the time. When it comes to handling me, he can be incredibly stupid.” I pause, carefully choosing my next words to sidetrack him from Lor. “What is my code name?”


It is a question too far, but I do not care.


A narrow, considering look pierces me.


“You owe me an answer, Orson Callan Krennic,” I state, trying to look regal. “I am the niece of your emperor.”


His first impulse is to protest, but then he nods an uncharacteristic acquiescence. “Black Rampion,”he voices.


I press my lips together.


This is not a random choice by Sheev. It is a curtsy towards my mother, Mandré, his half-sister. When she was pregnant with me, she felt the irresistible urge to eat black rampions one fine afternoon. Being a kitchen servant of House Palpatine, she rushed into the herb garden to look for the precious plant. He caught her doing so.


“You are crying,” Orson worries, while I rest my head on his shoulder.


********************************************************************


Much later on, I watch my unexpected guest work down two bowls of cabbage soup. His tastes are less refined than those of Sheev and many of his court cringers.


“Want some more?” I ask, smiling at him.


Home-made food still seems to be his favourite. Once a farm boy, always a farm boy.


Blushing, Orson gazes up. “I hope that I do not devour all your winter stocks in one go, Nagina.”


I giggle. “You mistake me for Rabbit and yourself for Winnie. And this is certainly not my collection of honey pots from the pantry.”


He blinks.


“Winnie the Pooh,” I offer.


That brings a shy smile on his lips. “The story about the Honey Tree,” he concludes.


It makes me glad that he remembers some of the books that I read to him.


I get up and reach out for the cruet, which contains jogan fruit juice. While I just have some sips, he has a third bowl.


Pleased, he cleans his mouth with his napkin. “Brilliant cooking, Ina!”


I should tell him that my foster mother sent twelve soup cans this morning. Lately I am lazy when it comes to cooking.


The miaowcomes unexpected, even for me.


“Tasia, there you are!”


Beaming, I pick the Loth-cat up.


Until now her little Ladyship has been untraceable. I suppose even she felt that Sate is always bad news and waited for the situation to be somewhat comfortable. Besides, his aftershave really must have made her upset.


“Hullo, my beauty!” I praise her.


Tasia gives me slow, languid blinks while her tail curls around my left wrist. She acknowledges me by closing her eyes. In the feline world this is the sign of absolute trust.


“I was not briefed about you being a cat owner,” wonders Orson, and glares at the animal in puzzlement.


“I do not own her. With cats it is the other way around usually,” I laugh. “But if you really want to know...”


He narrows his eyes. “I insist.”


“My neighbour gave Tasia into my charge only yesterday.” My palms get sweaty. “She is away for a couple of weeks. To visit relatives.”


His husky laugh floats stirs through the air. “In the past you could tell me anything and I believed you. Such a simple gift, Ina. So rare and precious. Like a kyber crystal.” His lips tighten as his gaze reaches sub-zero temperatures. “Don't put on the raw prawn with me! Why do you protect a man you hardly know? Who is he?”


Tasia's eyes go wide, which tells me that she is in attack modus. Before my pet can claw off Orson's face, I hurry to the kitchen window and open it.


“Off with you!” I tell the animal and, ever so gently, set her down in the garden. “I will call you when Orson behaves reasonably again. Like a real person and not a heartless war machine.”


When I close the window again, Tasia protests loudly.


She is not the only one who feels treated unfairly by me.


“What have I done to deserve this?” complains Orson, his working class accent all of a sudden broader than ever. “I came here all the way from Geonosis, thinking you were dead already! That I had completely failed to protect you already.”


“Sorry,” I mumble.


“If only you were sorry, Ina. But you are not. Not really. It's the biggest load of bull larky I've ever heard.” He studies me for a few seconds. “Even your poor uncle, my commander-in-chief, gets his share. But that you dare to lie at me. Holy dooley!”


His fist comes smashing down on my kitchen table. Makes me jump.


“You are a dangerous person,” he sneers. “Always deflecting. A schemer really.”


“Oh, you mistake me for the other Palpatine.”


Orson rises and looks down on me, his arms crossed in front of him. “Whether you like it or not: I am in charge here. Therefore I will control everybody that sets foot over your threshold. Including that mysterious neighbour of yours.”


Tears gather in my eyes. “I hate you!”


“No, you don't!” He assures me, a sad smile on his lips. “That is what really breaks you apart.”


********************************************************************


I cannot sleep tonight. Tasia is in the garden, occasionally making wailing noises. And Orson has opened the bedroom door, camping with his bedlinen on the actual door sill.


“This is creepy!” I let him know after a while.


“I will not allow you to harm yourself!” he replies in a low voice.


“First you distrust my godfather and now your paranoia extends to me.” I get up, rolled into my coverlet, and waddle over to him. “Perhaps you have a death wish yourself.”


“I am an officer of the Imperial army,” he sighs tremulously. “Therefore I can assure you that I put my mission first.”


“You mean you put my life in higher regard than watching a certain super weapon being built?”


“Here you go again, digging in the dirt.” His disappointment and anger is almost corporeal. “You are worse than the Pointer my old man had.”


He still cannot say the word 'father' after all this time. Nor can he allow himself to name the dog he killed by accident.


His army experiences seem to have hardened him even more. I am facing a loaded gun in the truest sense of the word and I am worried. Not for my sake though.


“Let us have a walk,” I suggest.


“You should sleep, Ina.” His voice is very soft now, a pleading undertone swinging in it.


“Then sing me a song!” I ask.


“My guitar is a thousand light years away in an army locker.”


“You can surely sing without one.” I turn around and start walking to my bed again.


“Could it be that you are trying to crack me open, Ina?” he surmises. “That you are trying to find a vulnerable spot you can fill and apply more pressure to from the inside?”


I hit my pillow. “You already made it perfectly clear that I am your soft spot. That you adopted me as your older sister,” I huff. “Now sing, my angel of music!”


I can picture the scowl on his face.


Then it comes, a lullaby I used to sing for him:


“By day give thanks
By night beware
Half the world in sweetness
The other in fear

When the darkness takes you
With her hand across your face
Don't give in too quickly
Find the thing she's erased

Find the line, find the shape
Through the grain
Find the outline, things will
Tell you their name

The table. The guitar
The empty glass
All will blend together when
Daylight has passed

Find the line, find the shape
Through the grain
Find the outline, things will
Tell you their name

Now I watch you falling into sleep
Watch your fist curl against the sheet
Watch your lips fall open and your eyes dim
In blind faith

I would shelter you
Keep you in light
But I can only teach you
Night vision
Night vision
Night vision”


Orson stands at the end of my bed when he finishes the song. Even in the dark I can make out his outline.


“I can stand a lot, Ina. On a battle field, inside a packed conference room. But you constantly acting as my enemy is a bit much.”


“You insult me as a Naboo woman here,” I clip. “My love life is my matter alone. Ask my uncle if you want to know more about the traditions of our people.”


“A lover?” Orson asks, astonished. “All this fuzz is actually about you wanting to protect a lover?”


I inhale sharply, hoping that this answer is sufficient.


Orson's lungs expand in a long, deep breath. His blue eyes are bright with silent laughter. “You could have told me straight out that you had started to see somebody. Oh, Ina!” He sounds so happy for me that it squeezes my heart. “Well, if you insist, then I will not look further into the matter.”


I can hear his thoughts tumbling around in his head. “It is not Xizor, if you really want to know,” I offer. “I am not into Falleen...”


Orson almost makes me bounce off the bed when he comes down next to me and engulfs me in a hug. “So you are seeing a human.”


“He is definitely human,” I assure him, sad to see that my uncle's anti-alien policies have gotten to him, too.


He presses a good-night kiss on my brow. “Sleep tight, Ina! If you need anything, I will be in the living-room.”


“I know,” I yawn, tired after all this pretending and defending myself.


On his way out, Orson pauses in the doorway, but not to pick up his bed linen. “Can I... may I,... you know?”


“Should the occasion arise, I will introduce you,” I promise. “He travels a lot.”


I hear the rustling of cotton.


“Oh, Orson? My uncle can know about it,” I assure him, just for the test.


“There is no need, Ina!” Nothing but tenderness is in his voice now. I am talking to a civilian, not a high ranking officer any more. “As far as I am concerned, you can have a little secret or two.”


“How come?” I counter.


“Good night now! I will make breakfast for you when you wake up!”


When I place a hand over my eyes, I am still aware of his looming presence.


“I will take a couple of days off, by the way.”


Inside my head, I scream. This is the last thing that I wanted for us. The situation has turned from awkward to overbearing. “Can you combine guarding me with your duties on Geonosis?”


His expression becomes shuttered, his lips drawn into a tight line. “You never heard the name, Ina!” He exhales in a rush. “And you will forget about it!”


“Yes, Sir! Geonosis is not the planet I am looking for.”


“I mean it,” he growls, reluctantly suppressing a laugh.






Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:
Don't put on the raw prawn with me! = similar to “Don't treat me like a fool!”
bull larky = Total and complete nonsense; full of contradictions and completely ludicrous
Holy dooley! = an expression of surprise such as “Oh my gosh!”




Sources:
the song “Night vision” by Suzanne Vega
Quotes from the Fantasy book “The Last Unicorn” by Peter S. Beagle (1968)
One of the frequently paraphrased statements of German philosopher and economist Karl Marx (1818 – 1883)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia


Inspirational song for this chapter:
the score “Lost but won” for the movie "Rush" by the German composer Hans Zimmer

 

This is one example of the appeal of this story - in this short bit you show a tender side of Sheev, reading Nagina this inspiring story about unicorns, then showing how she can be manipulative as a good kindergarten teacher, thinking about how to turn Sheev's gifts against his, so that will have to be said another time, sorry. ​

 

It is actually comments like this that make me fall in love with you all over again, DarthUncle.

Thanks for reading and commenting together with Kahara! You two are great!

 

earlybird-obi-wan: Guess what happend, while you were busy with moving crates! An update for Nagina and somewhere else another one for Isa! (By the way, thanks for you new postal address. It is appreciated! As much as your Christmas card was!)

Cowgirl Jedi 1701: Please tell me if you are still keen reading this fic. If the answer is yes, tell me also if I am allowed to send you update PMs or if I am allowed to tag you! You can do so directly in this thread or send a PM!

 

Yes, getting very busy the coming days but now able to read this before my internet is gone for a week or more (my brother has to help) Loved the update and the poem

 

The poem is a song by Suzanne Vega, earlybird-obi-wan.

Here:

Sources for Chapter 17:​

Quotes from the Fantasy book “The Last Unicorn” by Peter S. Beagle (1968)​

One of the frequently paraphrased statements of German philosopher and economist Karl Marx (1818 – 1883)​

The song “Night vision” by Suzanne Vega​

Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki​

Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia ​

 

And, Kahara, I have to confess I just came out with a vignette on Nagina.

Perhaps earlybird-obi-wan will like it, too once she has internet in her new home.

You two always write so short and to the point. While I go "blah, blah, blah!" and have a complicated plot with many characters turning up. DarthUncle always goes: "Where does this lead to? Is this really necessary?"

I will not update in here with Chapter 18 before the 14th February.

 

Oh, I go "blah, blah, blah!" all the time. I just seem to never end up finishing those.

Spoiler: Custom Closed, Custom Open

Having seen Rogue One, I can now really appreciate how well you captured Orson's particular species of "oh shavit, back away slowly and don't let them see your fear"-inspiring instability, and his power-mongering tendencies... while still giving him the capacity for strong emotional attachments. Makes him seem a bit more scary rather than less, but it's also poignant. Don't know if Nagina is around to mourn him after the events of the film, but the idea is rather painful.

 

Actually, Kahara due to you I understood the principle of "custom closed/ custom open" for the very first time. Meh!

DarthUncle laughed his head off.

Thanks for such a kind comment, full of ROGUE ONE spoilers.

 

Should I really heed your advice, Kahara, and let this fic be promoted?

Well, one should always listen to a beta for he is something like a Jedi master.

Besides, DarthUncle also tells me that doing things like this is better than losing my nerves about my uncertain job situation at present.

Well, I still have some time until the 31st January...

 

Kahara had no time to beta Chapter 18 yet, but I cannot help to post the first part of it.

Perhaps it is a mistake to update just a month with an entire chapter, as DarthUncle pointed out to me.

Okay, here we go:




Chapter 18:


Hearing voices in the middle of the night is never a good thing. Especially when one lives alone. Yet my ears pick up the scraps of a conversation going on somewhere in my cottage.


In suspense, I listen in to the dark.


The words seem to be coming from the bathroom.


My sleepy brain remembers that I have an overnight visitor.


I sit up, reaching out for my water glass on the night stand. Taking a long sip of water, I look at my digital clock. It is way after midnight.


To whom might Orson be talking at this hour? To my cat, who wants to claw his eyes out? Or is Lor back from Coruscant? Did both men bump into one another by chance?


I crawl out of bed, struggle into my morning robe and leave the bedroom without closing the door. This is an old house, with creaking floorboards and door hinges that can make even more treacherous noises.


On woollen socks I tiptoe through the small corridor.


“... vibing her out, she will either attack or flee,” I hear Orson say.


“Which was to be expected,” answers a voice that was once familiar and beloved to me. Now it belongs to a walking corpse. “Just leave her be, Orson!”


Sheev does not call him'my friend' or 'my son' , which proves that he really respects him. There is no deception going on between them, just brutal honesty.


With my heart almost in my mouth, I gaze through the key hole.


Orson sits on the closed toilet seat, most of his body bathed in blue light. With both hands, he holds onto a holoprojector device. “Leave her be? I start to doubt my loyalties in her company. She constantly tries to argue about the morality of my actions.”


Ugly cackling fills the bathroom, enough to make my toes curl. My uncle seems to be in a joyful mood after all the recent killing of Jedi. “If she would not, I would be very surprised,” he comments. “She always discusses what is right and what is wrong. It is a kindergarten teacher thing.”


Blood rushes through my veins so loud that I am afraid that both men will hear me through the door.


“It is a dangerous faculty. Especially if she talks to the wrong people.” Orson's voice drops. “To someone who is less forgiving than you are, my Emperor.”


“That is why I need you as her protector.”


Orson looks up, his face hard. “I doubt that I am really the right man for this delicate mission. The chain of command has failed me already.”


“Sate has already been punished for acting on his own authority.” My uncle pauses, his mouth forming a dreadful smile. “Perhaps he meant well, but Organa is my problem.”


“A more acute problem is that Ina seems to have figured out about 'Project Celestial Power'. She dropped several hints that lead me to the conclusion...”


“She is precious to me!” Sheev interrupts him, his voice lashing out like a whip. Then it gets somewhat softer again, a forlorn note wavering in it. “Protect her from everything that threatens her, and especially from knowing too much!”


“I will do whatever you ask of me, my Emperor,” Orson replies with honest reverence.


“You will go on vacation with Nagina. Scarif would be a nice choice.”


“Scarif? But I am needed on Geonosis,” Orson protests.


“You will go to Scarif, because I said so.” There are dark currents in my uncle's voice. “Do not make me to repeat my request! Otherwise I will not back you against Tarkin any more. He already wonders why your constant insubordination and your drastic methods are always forgiven.”


“But Scarif, my Emperor? Truly...”


I tear the door open. “For now, I am happy on Lothal.”


Orson almost drops the holoprojector.


A true smile shows on Sheev's mummy face. “At least you have started talking to me in person again.”


“Because you force my hand!” I sniff.


“I did not force you to spy on Orson,” he corrects me. “You did that all by yourself! But I indeed had hoped and expected to talk to you tonight in one way or another.”


“You... are... obnoxious!” I get out, my cheeks on fire.


“Is this today's word on your special Word of the Day calendar?” my uncle muses. “Strange, mine was 'facetious'. Are you sure you bought the right one?”


He is making jokes at my expense. I can see his joy. It brightens his eyes, though they lie deep in his sockets.


“What else do you want to tell me?” he moves on. “But keep in mind that Orson can hear you as well. And he might be shocked at what ten years with a Corellian have done to your vocabulary.”


“Sithspit!” I bite out.


He leans forward in his leather chair, millions of light years away from me. “Hatred is a dark emotion and I would advise you not to nurse it in your tender chest, Nagina.”


I shiver violently, and then I let out words that Darth Sion spoke centuries ago. “I can feel you, my master, faint, weak. No longer do your teachings whisper within my skull.”


Whatever Sheev had expected me to say, he never saw this answer coming. He leans back and steeples his fingers. “You never fail to surprise me.”


I surge forward and switch off the connection. “I know.”


********************************************************************


Orson gapes at me, his jaw working soundlessly. The disabled holoprojector shivers in his broad hands. I wonder how quick he might be with that huge weapon of his. Overweight as I am, I am a jolly good target.


“You will let me speak to my neighbour tomorrow morning!” I stare down on him. “Old Jho might take care of my flowers, my cat and my mail if I ask him nicely. And now let us find my tankini, my bathrobe and my beach towel. Oh, and my flip-flops.”


“Your what?” he asks, agape.


“My thongs,” I repeat, this time in the dialect of his parents.


“Oh bugger!”he curses and storms off, kicking the door wide open. “Deadset,you won!”


Even as a small boy Orson had hated losing. Many times when he had lost a game he had a severe tantrum. He still seems to be a sullen loser. I wonder how this particular personality trait fits into a prestigious career within the ranks of the Empire and an 'always-in-control' attitude.


My uncle is the elite psychopath of this age and I am sure he does not want to share his hard-won throne with anybody else. The famous 'Rule of Two'never works in reality. Three may be a crowd, but two is one too many Sith to have order.


********************************************************************
(To be continued!)

 

Glad to see you back again with this

 

I wanted to wait until St. Valentine´s Day, earlybird-obi-wan, but at DarthUncle told me to post little updates again. Instead of strictly posting an entire chapter once in a month he asked me to cut it into 4 pieces again.

Just worry about Kahara! I do not want her to be upset with me, because I really appreciate her beta skills.

But with all the pain I am in at present fan fic distracts.

And you are very welcome to read my vignettes, too.

 

* face palms about Chapter 5 AND 6

After reading "Dark Disciple" by Christie Golden, a birthday present by my brother-in-law, I realized that Ventress is dead. Sniff! So I must re-write her part and send Aura Sing into that air taxi, hoping she is not in prison or something.

* mumbles and changes stuff

 

Just so all of you don't worry, I am not upset by early posting and will not be sending bounty hunters after Azure.