Legends of Darkover

Chapter 14-New Developments

-oOo-

Darth Tyranus paced on board the Nihilus, trying to quell the turbulent energy that nearly sent him Force-choking anyone who crossed his path.  After his collapse from the use of Force speed (thankfully performed inside his escape craft, the autopilot already programmed and the thrusters locked on full) Lord Plagueis had given orders for Tyranus to be woken with a shot of adrenaline.  It had been an unwelcome surprise to discover the battle a complete rout, the Raptor an effluvium of gas and scorched metal, and the fact that even a Muun could really, really lose his temper given enough provocation.

But then, there was Inculcare.  Not everything had gone poorly.

“I am sending you to the planet,” said Plagueis.  The Sith lord on the screen was holding his staff crosswise in a two-handed battle grip.  Tyranus understood the message immediately, although the odd, lion-like rumble of the Muun voice could have told him the same thing.  “Find the Temple of Zandru, and return immediately with any large matrices you find.  Your failures DISGUST me.”

Tyranus was listening for any groan of pain from the man over to his right.  Annoyingly, Inculcare was keeping his mouth shut inside that medical capsule, despite the lack of painkillers.  The High Inquisitor's face was very pale even with blood transfusions.  He was deep in Force trance as the pair of surgical droids finished attaching his cyborg arm.  Studying him, Tyranus wondered if it might be possible to 'accidently' nudge the medical capsule hard enough to tip it over. . . .

Inculcare's eyes opened with the suddenness of a film vampire, and Tyranus almost startled away.  “We will leave immediately, my lord,” said the High Inquisitor.  “I request escort craft to distract the Darkovans if need arises.  The tower at Hali is so close to the Forbidden City the telepaths there may be alerted to the intrusion.”

/Flarging overachiever,/ Tyranus thought with a snarl.  Inculcare couldn't even agonize properly.  Tyranus had been hoping to witness an inconsolable bishwag on the verge of blubbing back to his Jedi creche for his blankie.  As if to prove something, Inculcare rose smoothly and tugged his bloodstained tabard straight with his cyborg arm.  No awkward groping marred the gesture, the black-gloved hand performing its task without a flaw.

/He's using the Force,/ thought Tyranus with disdain.  /No one learns how to operate a cyborg arm that quickly./

“My lord, I ask that Darth Xiphos accompany us,” said the High Inquisitor.

There was a prolonged silence from the Muun.  Tyranus thought he understood it, having been subjected to one of these quietuses before.

“Xiphos is dead.”

Inculcare replied with the slightest incline of an eyebrow.  “How so, my lord?” 

“He was slain in lightsaber combat.”

“Regrettable,” said Inculcare.  “But then Jinn is an experienced fighter.”

“He wasn't slain by Jinn.”

“Kenobi?” said Tyranus with disbelief.  He never would have guessed Kenobi capable of the deed. 

“He was slain by our former captives.  The keeper provided Force interference while the boy Danilo dueled Xiphos with a lightsaber.  The boy used the weapon with far greater efficacy than I would have believed possible in a complete novice.”

Inculcare made no reply.  After a year stuck on the same ship with his rival, Tyranus thought he knew Inculcare well enough to detect when the other man was taken aback.  He inclined his head towards the High Inquisitor, on the verge of a taunt about losing an apprentice to a random teenager from a primitive world, then remembered the same thing had happened to himself.  Nettled, he stayed mute.

“We seem to know so little about Darkovans,” Plagueis spat.  “Make your preparations.  The Ragnos and Tulak Hord must leave as soon as possible.  The Enterprise will not be able to detect you until it is too late.  Be swift!”

“Yes, my lord,” chorused the two Sith.  Tyranus was painfully aware of how much he sounded like a good little boy, but there was nothing to be gained by provoking the Muun.  Inculcare, however, was another matter.

The High Inquisitor was tugging off his black glove, exposing finger-like metal grippers.  With no warning he spring-ejected an inch of hooked claws from their tips. 

“Need to pick your nose?” Tyranus asked coolly.  “I believe there's a set of scoop attachments that will work with greater precision.  Unless, of course, you intend to try your hand at crochet.”

To Tyranus' surprise, the hand detached itself from Inculcare's wrist and propelled itself across the room.  Floating like a torture droid, the claws suddenly clapped around the skull of a startled crewman and dug in with a crunch, crushing it like a sticky eggshell.  The man died with an insane bellow, and the hand wiggled like a spider, flicking away shreds of bloody scalp and bits of bone as if in distaste.

“A waste of crew, but I always find demonstrations of power useful.  Don't you agree, Darth Tyranus?” 

For once, Tyranus found himself short of a reply. 

-oOo-

Regis woke to a pounding on his door, muzzily aware of an unwelcome disturbance to his warm cocoon of Danilo and bedcovers.  A cry sounded by his ear.  “It's all right,” Regis said, too sleepy to know whether it actually was or not, but trying to soothe the fear that pounded through the laran connection. 

Danilo was already flying out of bed, tripping over his travel leathers and boots on the way to the door.  “Who is it?” he demanded harshly over the intercom. 

“Doctor McCoy.  I need to have a look at Dom Regis' hand in sickbay.  The Captain also wishes to debrief the two of you.  He wanted to talk to you last night, but Domna Catriona said you'd both fallen asleep.”

“I apologize for my manners.  We will join you there in a few minutes,” Danilo replied, sounding calmer.

After McCoy left, Regis said, “I'd forgotten everything.”

“So had I.  I hope the Doctor was not too offended.”  Danilo looked around.  “This place is a barnyard.”  With a noise of disgust he threw his boots and travel leathers aside and rooted through his travel satchel for spare socks.  He tossed an extra pair over to Regis. 

“Augh!” cried Regis as he tried to catch them.  “I flexed my hand.  I'd forgotten it, too.”

“Here.”  Danilo took the socks and wrestled them up Regis' legs.  “Stand up for a moment.”

Reluctantly, Regis slid out of bed and let Danilo tug his shirt-wrinkles straight and button up his tunic.  “Finished.  You are almost presentable.”  He began to finger-comb Regis' hair, and his friend squawked.

“I can do that myself, you know.  Don't you have a hairbrush in your satchel?  Let me borrow it.”

“I do.”  However, Danilo made no move to retrieve the brush, continuing to work on Regis' hair with his fingers.  He was smiling slightly.  “You're done.”  He tilted his head as if listening.  “Dyan has woken up.”  Danilo made a face.   “So has Catriona.  Someone is with her?  I feel another presence.  Ah, the nurse!  She must have decided to keep Catriona company for the night.”  A troubled expression crossed his face.

“Regis?  I must apologize to Catriona.  I hadn't thought what it must be like for her to spend the night alone among strangers after what happened.”

“There is no need for excuses,” Regis insisted.  “You were not yourself.  You needed looking after as much as she did.  Besides, as a male your company would not have been welcome to a keeper of Hali.”  

“Still, I do not understand how I could have been so thoughtless.”

Regis shrugged.  “You were exhausted.  You fell asleep amidst the wreckage of your prey.”  He fetched the shredded remains of the bag of candy from the bed.  “It's empty.  How did we finish the bag off?  Were we sleep eating?  The honey drops are gone, too.”

“I think we ate the chocolate up.  The rest of the honey drops are probably lost in the bed sheets.”

After a silence, Regis asked the question that had been bothering him for months. “Is living with Dyan so very hard?”

Danilo thought it over before replying.  “It's certainly not easy.  It's like being raised by one of the catmen of Corresanti, alien and precarious.  He has behaved himself, but his personality is still that of Dyan Ardais.  At times I sense his incredulity at his own position.  Dyan never expected to become a father, and he has little temperament for the role and almost no preparation.  Dom Kyril was a poor example, remember.”

Regis nodded.  Dyan's father had abandoned himself to total dissipation and murdered his second wife in a drunken fit.  Dom Kyril had spent the last twenty years of his life insane, curiously meek, and as some suspected, under Dyan's tight mental control.   

“Sometimes I find him reading my mind to discover what my own father would have done,” said Danilo hesitantly.  “When he behaves properly, he does so by great effort of will.”

“He is a very strong-willed man,” Regis said, “and ought be capable of mastering himself.”

Danilo shook his head.  “He's willful, but that is the opposite thing.  A man who is willful gives in to every impulse.  A man who has will power controls himself.  A willful man is weak.    Enough of this talk.  Do you think we will be able to find the rest of the Sith?”

“Captain Kirk is confident, though events are somewhat uncertain at present.”

Danilo made another face.  “I hope he is right.  The Sith are somewhat stupid, which may help us.”

“Stupid?  How?” Regis asked in surprise.

“They thought I was Catriona's boyfriend.”

“That is the arrogance of one's own opinion, a flaw common to the wise as well as the foolish.”

Danilo sat down on the bed to don his own socks, giving his friend a grin.  “True.  Captain Kirk thought I was Dyan's boyfriend before I corrected him.”

Regis groaned and rolled his eyes, and Danilo laughed.

“Domna Ysabet thought I was flirting with Janine, and Dyan thinks we're--” Danilo broke off.  “Why is it that all I have to do is stand next to someone, and everyone thinks we're lovers?”

“Because you look like a Dry-towner's barraganu.”

Danilo snorted. 

“Well, you do,” Regis protested, and went off into an idle reverie about barraganus.  Dry-towners lived in tents of coarse hides, pungent with the heavy, cured animal smell of leather.  Their floors were also piled with hides, and upon these a barraganu would be lounging on his back, much like Danilo as he struggled to pull up his socks.  Barraganus wore bright silk trousers—in Hastur blue, of course—though Danilo was presently wearing hateful Ardais black--and red silk shoes, admittedly not much like the heavy boots Danilo was stamping his feet into.  Barraganus came to life at the entrance of their lord and master, raising themselves on one arm just like Danilo was doing, eyes fixing in a hypnotic stare on the cobra-like belt which dropped from their lord's waist to the floor in a slow, lazy coil . . . .

-You know that I'm still in rapport with you, right?-

Regis' thoughts froze. 

Danilo leaned forward on his elbows, wearing a look of tolerance—and something else.  Amusement, perhaps? 

“Sorry.”  Regis always tried to keep his baser thoughts out of Danilo's mind--it was only polite--and to be caught in the middle of one of his lewder, if more delicious fantasies was mortifying. 

There was a vast mental silence where the thoughts of Danilo had been.

“You forgot the chains,” said his paxman suddenly.

“Zandru’s Hells, of course!  I forgot the chains!  Whatever was I thinking?” Regis replied with a touch of hysteria.

-oOo-

“My padawan has returned to us,” Qui-gon announced.

/I have?/  Obi-wan opened his eyes in confusion.  He was lying on a bed in sickbay.  Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, and Mr. Scott stood alongside his master.  McCoy was holding out a steaming mug.

“Have some soup and crackers,” the Doctor drawled.  “It's chicken noodle, a specialty of the house.”

Obi-wan sat up with care and sipped from the mug, hoping he wasn't eating a sentient being.  The soup was good, although after months of nutrient paste he might have relished the insulation in the ceiling. “Thank you, Doctor.  What's happened to the Raptor?” 

“Destroyed,” said Qui-gon.   “Everyone was able to beam off.  A few of the starfighters remain to be hunted down.  Padawan?  We wish to hear an account of your doings.”

“I am—displeased with myself,” said Obi-wan weakly.  “My performance was not what it should have been.”

“Why so?”

Obi-wan made a face.  Must he speak here, in front of everyone?  He was distracted by the entrance of Regis and Danilo with Catriona.  “It's good to see you well, Obi-wan,” Hastur said.  He was immediately detained by McCoy, who made him sit on an examination bed for the removal of the transmat glove.  Danilo and Catriona joined the group of listeners. 

“Likewise,” Obi-wan replied.  “You're our rescuees, aren't you?” 

Danilo nodded shyly.  “I'm Danilo Syrtis-Ardais, and this is the leronis Domna Catriona.” -You're not supposed to look directly at her.  It disturbs a keeper very much,- Danilo added mentally.

Obi-wan averted his gaze.  He thought the request a little unfair considering the intense scrutiny Catriona was giving him.  A second voice spoke in his head.  -Your pardon for the intrusion, but after what we have gone through I feel I must give all strangers an assessment.  I know it is annoying.-

“That's fine,” Obi-wan replied.  “I'd do the same thing.”

“Doctor McCoy told me you are a knight called Obi-wan Kenobi?” said Danilo.

“He's a Jedi apprentice under my tutelage.  I'm Qui-gon Jinn.”

Danilo greeted Qui-gon politely, then stared hard.  “It must be difficult to hunt down your former master.  You show great dedication.”

“I see you have a delicate touch,” Qui-gon replied.  “I detected nothing when you read my mind.”

Danilo blushed.  “That is my dona,” he said.  He tilted his head slightly towards Catriona, and Obi-wan had the impression they were having a private chat about the Jedi.  Regis cleared his throat in an admonishing manner, making Obi-wan curious about what the exchange had consisted of.  “Captain Kirk?” Regis prompted.  “You wish to hear our accounts?”

“Yes,” Kirk replied.  “We were about to start with Obi-wan.”

Obi-wan peered warily at his master and gave a short summary.  Then he took a sustaining  bite of cracker for his confession.  “As I was saying, I was not happy with my performance.  First, I Fold Spaced the Wizard right into a droid warehouse.  Second, I lost Regis Hastur.”

“But I am found again,” Regis replied jauntily.  “It's neither your fault nor your responsibility if I choose to run off on my own.”

“Third, I--bloodied my nose on a locked door,” Obi-wan added in a rush.

“I wondered about the nose,” Qui-gon commented.

“Fourth,” the apprentice continued grimly, “I lost my lightsaber.  I lost the Wizard.  I lost to Darth Tyranus—although that was probably to be expected—and last, what am I up to, seven or eight mistakes?--I failed to destroy the shield console.”

“Indeed?”

Obi-wan winced.  It was amazing all the nuances his master could pack into an 'indeed,' although this didn't sound so much like an I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass-when-we-get-back-home 'indeed' as Obi-wan thought he deserved.

“Nonetheless,” McCoy interrupted, “you're alive, everyone's rescued, and your enemy's viscera will be floating in space for the next billion years.”

“That's what we call a 'gimme,'” Kirk added.  “I'm grateful for them.”

“Padawan, might I remind you this is why you're still an apprentice?  Your assignment was a very difficult one.  You did much damage to the Raptor with your raids on their docking bays, and though you fought a Sith lord superior to yourself in skills and experience, you provided an important distraction.  Without it, the starfighter that crashed into the bridge would most likely have been shot to pieces by the Raptor's torpedoes before it could impact.”

“Drink your soup.  You'll brood less over a full stomach,” McCoy urged. 

“I appreciate your kindness, Doctor.  But I wish—I wish--”

“Scotty?” said the Captain.

Mr. Scott was eyeing a spot in the air, whistling a little tune to himself.  He was tapping a long object against his palm.  “My lightsaber!”  Obi-wan gasped.  Scotty handed it over. 

“Pretty trinket, that,” said Scotty.  “I beamed it off the Raptor right before she blew.”

Obi-wan activated the weapon.  The reassuring blue hum drew a sigh from the apprentice.

“Now, your courier vessel was a mite trickier.”  

At Obi-wan's startled look, Qui-gon nodded.  “The Wizard's in shuttlebay two.”

“Beamed her into space and dragged her in with a tractor beam,” said Scotty with satisfaction.

“Nothing we couldn't handle.”

“This is wonderful!” exclaimed Obi-wan.  “You have my profound gratitude.”

Kirk glanced towards Danilo and Catriona.  They were both looking at the ground.  The Captain hesitated.  Obi-wan gave Qui-gon a worried look and Jinn said, “Maybe you should take Dom Regis' statement next.”

Hastur made a face.  McCoy had the glove off, and Regis was looking at a palm mottled in the colors of blood-red and blue.  “Is this normal?” he asked McCoy.

“That's the capillary network reestablishing itself.  The skin should recover fully in a couple of days.”

Regis nodded.  He related his tale, and after conferring with Danilo and Catriona, he was  able to describe the maniacal face paint of the Sith he'd killed, a confused description obviously coming from three persons with no cultural familiarity with clowns.

“Teleport?” exclaimed Kirk, peering at Danilo and Catriona.

“You killed a Sith apprentice!” cried Obi-wan. 

Qui-gon made a motion for silence.  “It must have been Gladius.  My padawan and I are familiar with all the others.  What is this backflow you speak of?” 

Warily, Regis said, “Some telepaths can cause a laran backflow in another person's matrix.  The normal result is death.”

“Is that part of the Hastur gift?” Kirk asked.

Regis' face was unreadable.  “I have an affinity for working with matrices.  Some telepaths have more of this skill than others.”

“I seem to recall something about Hasturs making the best keepers,” Kirk said. 

Regis did not reply.  “Captain,” said Catriona formally.  “Darkovan telepaths are not allowed to discuss their talents with others.  Although we owe you much and are grateful to you, your questions must stop here.”  

“All right,” the Captain conceded.  He glanced at Danilo.  “Teleport, eh?  Any reason why you couldn't teleport off the Raptor?” 

“Too far, too tiring, and we didn't know we could do it until we tried,” Danilo said.

“Transmission of matter,” mused Kirk.  “You or her?” he shot at Danilo suddenly.

Obi-wan found himself admiring Kirk's persistence. 

“Captain!” Catriona admonished.

“Sorry.  I'm being a jerk.”  Kirk studied his PADD.  “I'd like to hear what happened to you two.”

Danilo faltered.  “I have no tale of courage to tell, like the knight Kenobi or Regis here.”

“You fought well enough when you had the chance,” Regis said with indignation.  “Besides, you were the only one who didn't do something lamentably stupid.”  Hastur grinned at Obi-wan, and the Jedi replied with a crooked smile.

“Do not be despondent,” said Qui-gon.  “The Sith are experts at capture and interrogation.  Many strong minds have been broken by them, and any resistance on your part should be considered an act of valor.  You faced foes armed with strange Force-powers assisted by technology unfamiliar to your people.  Do not let the Sith become a dark cloud to torment your minds.”

Danilo nodded, and began with a description of their capture and his questioning by Tyranus and Xiphos.  Regis colored with anger when he heard how Xiphos had struck his friend, and ordered the torture droid to shoot him like an animal.  “Fortunately, he is dead.  Catriona killed him with Dyan's help.”

“She did?” Kirk asked.  “How?”

“When Xiphos assumed the disguise of the Jedi Kenobi here--”

“That fucking asshole,” Obi-wan interjected.  For once, Qui-gon refrained from commenting on his padawan's language.

“--and stunned you and Regis, Dyan dueled him through my body--”

“His stepfather,” Qui-gon whispered to his apprentice.

“--and wounded him, but it was not enough.  The Sith tried to use his laran against me, and Dyan leapt across to Catriona and used her dona to kill the man.”

Catriona stared hard at Regis, and Obi-wan wondered at the grave expression on Hastur's face.

“Did anything else happen?” Kirk asked.

Danilo's words became halting.  “Inculcare said he intended to turn me.”

“Why?” asked the Captain.  Obi-wan noticed the flash of alarm in Regis' eyes.

“He did not explain.  He injected me with something that caused great fear and was able to push his way into my mind.   That was when I jumped into the Overworld and found Regis.  After Regis woke Catriona, she was able to shield my thoughts from Inculcare.  Then your assault began.”

“Did the Sith say anything to you?” Kirk asked.  “Any hint of what they were up to?”

“No,” Catriona interrupted.  She was giving Danilo a look.

Danilo seemed surprised.  “But--”

“No, that was all,” Catriona repeated with finality.  Both fell silent.  Obi-wan guessed they were having a mental argument. 

“Domna,” said Regis.  “I've already told them about the Temple of Zandru and Sicul Alton.”

“Regis!  It was one of the most dangerous secrets of the towers.  I swore an oath never to speak of it except to my circle, and as Hastur, I know you took a similar oath.”

“My oath was conditional,” Regis retorted.  “As Hastur, it was left to my judgment to decide who must know.  Captain?  I see from the minds of my friends that Darth Inculcare asked where the Temple of Zandru was located.  He knows it's in the Forbidden City, but not exactly where.  He may know about Sicul Alton.”

“I'm sorry, Domna, but at this point I must find out what happened to you,” said Kirk.  “I've delayed as long as possible.  Shall I ask people to leave?”

Catriona's face was drawn.  “It is no matter.  I have no memory from the moment I was captured until Regis woke me.  Inculcare questioned me under drugs.  I'm afraid that I could have told them anything.  We must assume the worst.”

“Anything else?” Kirk asked carefully.

“There is only one thing I can recall.  The Sith asked me where the Temple of Zandru was located, but the answer was out of my knowledge.”

“I'm afraid I know,” said Qui-gon.  “I found it when we visited the Forbidden City.”

Sickbay's doors whisked opened to emit Dyan Ardais, who was still wearing the confiscated lightsaber hooked onto his belt.  Obi-wan flew off his bed and landed in a battle stance, his lightsaber out and humming.

“Stop!” Kirk shouted.  “He's an ally.”

“Stand down,” Qui-gon ordered.  Regis sprang across the room to seize Obi-wan's arm.

Dyan snorted.  “Put it away, boy.  You'll lose.  Is this your missing apprentice?”  he said to Qui-gon.  “The one whose work I had to perform for him?”

“Who are you?” Obi-wan demanded.  Never had he been more convinced he was facing a Sith.  The man's aura was putrid.  Cautiously, the apprentice shut off his lightsaber and made a brief, apologetic bow, and waited for an explanation.

“May I introduce you?” said Danilo.  “This is my foster-father, Dom Dyan Ardais.  Sir, this is Obi-wan Kenobi.  Please forgive him.  The Jedi knight has only just woken and does not know the situation in full.”

“My apologies, Dom Ardais.  Is that Darth Gladius' lightsaber?”

“I don't know the names of the offworld reish and could care less,” Dyan replied.  “It was taken from a Sith, now reduced to frozen meat.  Danilo, Regis, Domna Catriona--it is time for the three of you to return to Darkover.  The Enterprise is continuing to hunt down survivors and you need to be out of the way.  Prepare to leave.  I want you two to escort Catriona to her tower before you ride off to Thendara.”

“Dom Ardais,” said Regis formally, “as long as this threat remains--”

“GO.  HOME,” Dyan interrupted.  “The Captain and the Jedi may indulge you, but I will not.  Your grandfather has charged me with your safety.  I give you a quarter of an hour to prepare, then you will gather in the transporter room for your return.”

“Dom Ardais is right,” said the Captain.  “I want you out of danger.”

For a moment Hastur faced them defiantly, then caved.  “All right, I'll go.  But who will stay here to oversee Darkover's interests?”

“Myself,” said Dyan promptly. 

Obi-wan could almost see the words, 'You will?' sketched in the air above the Captain's head.  Kirk swallowed hard, but said nothing.

“And if you think me ineffective at such a task, say so now,” Dyan said sharply to Regis.

“No,” Regis conceded. 

“Be swift, then,” said Dyan.

Obi-wan sent a mental question to Regis.  -Is he as much of a prick as I think he is?-

-Worse,- Regis replied. 

-oOo-