Legends of Darkover

Chapter 4

-oOo-

Before Regis toured the ship with Scotty, Kirk asked him why the Darkovans needed the Enterprise. 

“The request came from Ian Elhalyn, one of our telepaths,” Regis replied blandly.

“Uh-hum,” said the Captain, trying to erase the word 'junket' from his mental whiteboard.  “May I ask why?”

“I don't know, but I can tell you this, 'When one with the Elhalyn dona gives an order, even the Hasturs hasten to obey.'  It's an old proverb.  Our familial donas are rated in order of importance to Darkover and the Elhalyns come first, even before the Hasturs.”

“What is the Elhalyn dona?”  Starfleet Intelligence was on its fifth generation of trying to discover the nature of these donas.  The Ridenows cared little if others knew—everyone was aware they were empaths with a special ability to bond with alien and animal minds.  The Aldarans saw the future, hence their acceptance of and cooperation with the Federation, but all the others, the Alton, Hastur, Ardais, Elhalyn, and Aillard were unknown. 

Regis shrugged.  “We do not describe our donas to outsiders.  However, you could discover the nature of it from the Aldarans if they are in a talkative mood.  The Elhalyn gift is similar to theirs.”

“Since the Aldarans can see the future, the Elhalyn gift must be a variation of it?” mused Kirk. He was a little startled that Regis had given him a hint. 

“Yes--except that the Elhalyns see all futures.  Every possibility, twist, and turn.  Your Federation has been so eager to learn about us, but they would find this gift as great a burden as the Elhalyns.  It would bewilder the mind trying to decide which future would be the best.”

“Your mother was an Elhalyn, wasn't she?” Kirk remembered that from his briefing.

Regis tipped his head in polite acknowledgment.

“Do you ever have precognitive moments?”

“Occasionally.  All those with laran are prone to them.  The Elhalyn gift is not one I have inherited, however.”

The Captain contemplated him for a moment, wondering.  “I don't suppose you could tell me what the Hastur gift is?”

Regis only grinned at him.  “I see Mr. Scott is waiting to show me around this magnificent ship of yours.  I do not wish to command too much of his time or yours, since you must have other duties.  Good afternoon, Captain.”

Kirk knew when he was being dismissed.  He spent the next hour running over all available data about the Darkovan gifts, until he was interrupted by Spock.

“Captain? The sensors have found three ion trails in Darkover's atmosphere, on a trajectory heading down to the planet.  They're akin to the ones found by the Constitution.”

“Where to?” asked Kirk, every nerve keyed.

“All three head in the direction of Lake Hali.”

“You're kidding.”

“I've never been inclined to do so, sir.”

“This has to be a joke,” said the Captain.  “Lake Hali?  Okay.  Someone else has their own snipe hunt.  How old are the trails?”

“As none were detected during our last scan of the lake, they appear to be less than three hours old.  My conjecture is that one ship descended to the planet and has returned.  A second ship followed, but there is no sign of this craft having returned to space.”

“Prepare a landing party for arrival near the lake,” said Kirk.  “Wait.  Dom Regis is still on board and his grandfather's forbidden all travel to the area.  Lieutenant Uhura, have Lieutenant Kyle interrupt Scotty and cut the tour short.  Invent a minor emergency or something.  I want young Hastur back on Darkover before we break his planet's laws.”  Despite himself, Kirk was annoyed.  Two spacecraft had slipped right past the Enterprise's sensors and it wasn't as if his crew hadn't been looking.  “Where do the trails originate?”  

“There is nothing at the head of the first trail, Captain.  The second ship's ion stream is much longer and heads out of sensor range.”

“Pinpoint where the first trail begins and scan the space there carefully.  They may be cloaked.  Mr. Chekov, plot a course for that location.  Mr. Sulu, shields up until further notice and arm phasers.  If these persons attacked the Intrepid, we need to prepare for battle.”

-oOo-

Regis' tour was interrupted when Scotty's assistant whispered to the engineer.  “Very sorry, Regis my lad,” said Scotty, “but it's time for you to be heading back.  A coolant tube has cracked and is spilling its guts all over my main engine room floor.  Have to rush.  Kyle, escort Dom Regis to the transporter room.”

“I understand, Mr. Scott.  I have enjoyed your company, and thank you for your time.”  /Or at least I enjoyed it when I understood what you said/.  Reluctantly, he followed Kyle.  However, this abrupt end to his tour made Regis curious.  He reached out with his laran  and discovered an isolated stream of excitement up on the bridge.  It sounded like bees humming together, readying for an attack.

As they passed a turbolift, he dropped behind Kyle and jumped in.  When the lift doors  opened on the bridge, he sensed immediately that his arrival was an unwelcome surprise.  The lazy atmosphere of an hour ago was gone, and everyone was working with fierce concentration at their stations.

“Captain, I wish to extend my thanks to you before I leave.”

“You're very welcome, Dom Regis.  We were honored by your visit.  Did Lieutenant Kyle become lost?  He was supposed to show you to the transporter room.”

“He was.”  Regis' eyes grew vague.  “By the way, you have my permission to make a search for these strangers near Lake Hali.  If my grandsire finds out, I will make appropriate excuses for you.”

/Telepaths,/ growled Kirk to himself.  “Does your grandfather allow spacecraft to land near the lake?  I'd like to eliminate the possibility that our mystery ships are local craft from the port at Thendara.”

“No.  Nor does the area around Lake Hali possess any landing pads for them.”

“Captain?” said Spock.  “Sensors have just picked up a small but visible ship heading for us.  Its specifications fit no craft in our databases.”

These were words to set a captain's blood racing.  “Dom Regis, I'm afraid it's time to say goodbye.  Ensign--”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You need a telepath to determine the intent of these intruders.  Although Mr. Spock has some laran, he can only use it by touching.  I can read at a distance.  Remember, this is my world they are invading, and their trespass has now become the business of the Hasturs.”

Kirk was about to protest when he realized that Regis was 1) right, and 2) someone they couldn't just drag off to the transporter room without wrecking relations with Darkover.  “Okay, but at the first whiff of trouble, you're going home.”

“We're being hailed, Captain,” Uhura interrupted.  “The language is Federation standard and the ship calls itself the Wizard.”

“Put them on.”

The viewscreen lit up with the face of Obi-wan Kenobi in the pilot's chair.  “Greetings.  I am the Jedi apprentice Obi-wan Kenobi, and I am accompanied by my Master Qui-gon Jinn.  This message is to warn you of the nearby presence of a cloaked Sith battlecruiser.  The Sith are a grave danger to your Federation and they may attack you at any moment.  We wish to meet with you to discuss them.”

/Humanoid,/ thought the Captain.  /Very much so.  Using a translator.  Funny hair, plain clothing.  A cramped ship, but those controls look extremely advanced./

“I am Captain James T. Kirk, commanding the USS Enterprise.  We thank you for your warning and wish to discuss your message among ourselves.  We will re-contact you on the same frequency.  Kirk out.”

Regis' face was already taut with concentration.

“Are they hostile?  Did they attack the Intrepid?” Kirk's mouth was buried against his fist. 

“No.  The Intrepid was assaulted by the ones they call the Sith.  These Jedi are somewhat akin to your Federation policemen.”

“That's reassuring, Dom Regis, but I wouldn't mind having—hey!”  Kirk squawked as Regis' hand clamped around his wrist.  Regis' other hand gripped Spock's fingers, causing the Vulcan to go rigid.

The trio went silent and stayed that way for several minutes.  The Enterprise's crew began to eye them with concern.  “Captain?” Sulu prompted.  “If you and Mr. Spock are planning to be gone on your mental vacation any longer I'm taking the con.”

Regis let go of both men.

“Wow,” said Kirk.  “That was--efficient.  Warn me next time before you flood my mind, Dom Regis.  That was really something.  Extragalactic visitors from a very old civilization.”  The Captain was furiously sorting through the information Regis had stolen from the Jedi, glad he was a quick study.  The blur was now fitting itself into categories and acquiring labels.  A whole Jedi-Sith history had unreeled inside him.  After several minutes of pondering he said, “Despite the great age of their culture, their galaxy's level of ethical development seems to be lower than ours.  Did you catch that, Spock?”

“I, too, would prefer more advance notice from you, Dom Regis,” said Spock, “although the contact was not as disturbing as I thought it would be.  I agree with your assessment, Captain, though the Jedi appear to be an exception to the rule.  Their minds have an emotional balance very characteristic of Vulcans.  I would be curious to meet them.”

“Uhura?” said Kirk.  “Open contact with the Wizard again.”

When Obi-wan appeared on the screen, Kirk said, “We have pondered your message and wish to speak with you as well.  The Enterprise welcomes you as guests.  The atmosphere, gravity, and temperature of the planet below are closely compatible with conditions aboard the Enterprise and should present you with no difficulty if you can endure the planet. You may land inside our second shuttlebay.  The flashing light will guide you to the proper point.  If you find it necessary we can guide you in with a tractor beam.”

“My Master and myself thank you and my Master prompts me to accept your offer of the tractor beam,” said Obi-wan.  “Our projected arrival time is ten minutes.  Obi-wan out.”

The Captain rose from his chair, then paused.  “Did you tell them anything about us?” he asked Regis cautiously.

Regis pursed his lips.  “They already have considerable knowledge about the Federation, which they obtained by spying on the Sith ship.  The Sith gained theirs--”

He faltered, giving the Captain a look of regret.  “--from the torture of the Intrepid's crew.”

-oOo-

“Master, are you well?” 

Qui-gon had stuffed himself under the cargo hatch in the interest of preserving master-padawan relations, which is why Obi-wan had delivered the message to the Enterprise.  He wore a distracted expression.  “I am somewhat startled.  This Regis Hastur is a better telepath than any I've ever met, yet he doesn't seem to think his laran, as he calls it, is anything special.  If he is typical of his people the Darkovans will not be as helpless as we feared.  He used a technique on me similar to Drain Knowledge, yet without the deleterious effects.”

“Drain Knowledge!  Master--”

“Moderate your emotions, Padawan.  I am fine.  In the Force space of Hastur's mind the drain was a duel one, taking both a very long and very short time to complete, and this saved me from injury.  I am unfamiliar with this method of using the Force.  I wonder if his skill can be learned by us.”

“I'm not sure we'll have time, Master.  Lord Plagueis will be setting our schedule.  There's the flashing light.  By the Eternal Core, this Enterprise is primitive.”

“Manners, Padawan.  I am sure they think it a lovely vessel.”

“How is the Enterprise going to face the Raptor?  The Federation's ships are thoroughly outclassed.”

“Not all battles need be fought with laser cannon or lightsaber.  Concentrate on docking.”

Obi-wan's face showed trepidation.  “Tractor beams never reassure me.”

-oOo-

Darth Tyranus supervised the docking of the Muur inside bay number two with care.  He was too intent to notice the commotion over at bay number one, which was also receiving a ship. 

Inculcare floated the keeper down the ramp on a medistretcher. “Doctor Horcken,” said the High Inquisitor to the waiting chief of surgery.  “Take her to medical bay.  The other prisoner goes straight to the Interrogation Center.  A medical droid should be sufficient to take his readings.”

Wearing an almost beatific smile, Tyranus blocked Inculcare's path.  “Back already, Leron?”  Inculcare hated the use of his former Jedi name and Tyranus knew it. “Heard you lost Torqus.”  His smile became a full-on gloat.  “Four men just vanishing like that.  Too bad.  Ristrin can be replaced, but Torqus?  Lord Plagueis will be especially annoyed to lose him.  That's what comes from assigning an Inquisitor to the command of a military expedition instead of a Sith warrior like myself.  I understand Darth Xiphos stunned his own men, too.  Tsk, Leron, tsk.”

From the narrowed-eyed glower Tyranus received, it took an obvious revival of Inculcare's Jedi patience to hang on to his temper.  “Both Torqus and Ristrin were responsible for their own actions.  However--”

The Sith apprentices were disembarking and Inculcare turned his head slightly in the direction of Gladius.  “--I understand that Natool'kunn has been killed.  Shilla Nelkin has also been consigned to medical bay after having an encounter with you.  Both were obviously not events that can be blamed on themselves.”

Xiphos and Gladius halted, noticing the confrontation.  They watched with that morbid connoisseurship only a Sith—and possibly sharks--could appreciate.  Tyranus' nostrils flared with annoyance.  His retort was cut off by the noise of tramping feet.    

Bay one's connecting doors opened and a double file of Blade Squadron troopers marched through the doors.  Just beyond them Tyranus caught a glimpse of a newly-arrived cruiser.  The Adas had slipped inside the Raptor with no notice at all, not even a polite note.  Sith lords did not feel horror, or at least never admitted they did, but Tyranus came close to suffering that weak emotion.  Dockhands came smartly to attention, and mech droids went still.

Lord Plagueis had arrived in person.  The two files of troopers stopped and pivoted inwards, standing at attention as the towering Muun slowly paced between them, his walking staff thumping the floor.  His robed figure was grotesque to the eye, too tall and gaunt to be human, too many joints on the elongated hand that gripped his staff.  The Sith bowed to their lord, as did the dockworkers and troopers.

“I am displeased,” said Lord Plagueis.  “There have been too many mistakes.  These errors should not have been made by Sith lords of such seniority and Sith apprentices of such skill.  These errors must cease, and shall cease.”  The butt of his staff slammed the floor hard enough to echo.

Tyranus started to say, “There will be no more, my lord,” but the words were cut off by a violent tightening sensation around his neck.  He staggered, and noticed his colleagues.  All four Sith were strangling, their throats seizing up as Plagueis gestured with his hand.  Gladius had fallen to his knees. Xiphos was making fists, his streaming eyes locked on Plagueis with the promise of murder. Incredulous, Tyranus caught at his collar, willing the Force-band to loosen with all his might.  It refused to break.  He couldn't believe Plagueis was doing this to Sith lords and Sith apprentices, in public no less.  All around them dockhands were stepping backwards, their faces growing pale as they realized what they were witnessing.

Tyranus' vision developed stars, and he had to settle for the only good thing about this situation, namely watching Inculcare being strangled.  But to Tyranus' disgust, Inculcare somehow retained his poise.  The High Inquisitor only turned a little blue, appearing no more distressed than a man trying to clear his throat. 

Nearly a minute passed before the invisible bands vanished.  It took very powerful mastery of the Dark Side to choke four Sith at once against their wills, and all the victims knew it.

“Your punishment has been mild,” said Plagueis.  “Future correction will be worse.  As humans are greatly subject to wounds of the ego, a public venue was chosen for your chastisement and neither rank, experience, nor ability were respected.”

Tyranus met Inculcare's eye.  Both men were thinking the same thing and each instantly knew the other's thought.  Combine to destroy Plagueis, here and now.  Destroy him for this unspeakable affront.   

But each knew what must follow.  Who would replace the Muun?  There must be another fight immediately between Tyranus and Inculcare to determine mastery.

Two fights of that intensity?  There was no guarantee they had enough power to destroy Plagueis even combined, or be certain the other rival was weak enough.  This was not the time.  Tyranus and Inculcare looked away from each other and took note of faces, as did the apprentices.  All witnesses must be killed to avoid humiliating gossip.  No one could Force-choke a Sith and live to tell about it, not even Plagueis, although his death must be postponed.  The outrage was too great. 

The apprentices were waiting for a cue from their masters, but Tyranus only glared at them.  Inculcare smoothed over his features as if nothing had happened.

“As you were,” said Plagueis dryly.

For an instant the other Sith tensed at this sick joke.  Enraged, Tyranus had to remind himself that Muun humor bore no resemblance to the human concept of the term.  Plagueis was undoubtedly being serious.  Then again, the Dark Lord of the Sith was capable of what the Muun called 'subtlety.'

“Darth Inculcare, prepare your mixtures for the girl,” said Plagueis.  “Escort, proceed to medical bay.”  Plagueis moved on, thumping with his staff.  It took incredible nerve to turn one's back on four angry Sith, but the Muun lord did not hesitate. 

Such confidence could be considered unnerving.  Tyranus wondered how strong Plagueis actually was in the Dark Side.  At the moment, he did not care to find out.

-oOo-

When Plagueis entered medical bay, the personnel fell back in awe, bowing.  However, none, not even Plagueis saw the tiny flit of the spybug as it bounced along the ceiling. 

“She is not to be wakened.  These keepers are reputed to be dangerous,” the Sith Lord told Doctor Horcken. 

A medical droid had untied Catriona's mantle and removed a velvet bag from around her neck, laying out its contents on her chest.  A glowing blue jewel lay on top of its shimmering silk wrapper.  Plagueis examined the matrix while a mineralogy droid recorded the specifications of the gem.  The Dark Lord found it odd that he could not face the jewel directly, its resonance causing him distress.

Both girl and jewel gave off the Force, though both were weaker than he expected.  The Darkovans' own lore indicated they had declined in the Force since their earlier days.  As soon as the droid was done, Plagueis had it replace the matrix in the bag.  “The stone is not to be retrieved or touched by anyone.  Send the mineralogy and xenobiology reports to me as soon as possible,” he said to Horcken.  “Give no one access to them except for myself.  When you have finished, move the girl to the Interrogation Center.”

The Dark Lord pivoted and left, picking up the Blade Squadron at the entrance.  The procession returned to docking bay one.  As Plagueis strode towards the departure ramp of the Adas, the bay's blast doors shut behind the last of the troopers and sealed vacuum-tight. 

Air vents hissed.

Men began to collapse.  Lord Plagueis halted as his escort troops gasped and tumbled over.  One quick-witted dockworker held his breath long enough to race for the blast doors.  When the controls did not respond, he smashed the panel with his fist and grabbed for the wires, only to die convulsing from electric shock.

In two minutes all twitching stopped.  The only figure still standing was Plagueis.  He stood unmoving amidst the scattered dead.

A blinding cloud of concussive, echoing thunder roared through the room as the flammable dioxis gas exploded.  Half a hundred smaller fires started.  When the fuel hoses to the Adas melted, the fuel tanks of the Adas went up.  This second explosion was so strong it punched a dent in the blast doors, though the vacuum seal managed to hold.  The bay's emergency programming shut off the exterior energy shield and let in the cold vacuum of space.

The flames were quenched.  Corpses sprouted cobwebs of ice, flash-freezing.  The strip lighting burst, leaving only the weak glow of the emergency lights.  Anything not secured was sucked out into space by the violent pull of vacuum.

Slowly, the figure of Plagueis began to fade.

/A doppleganger.  No wonder he didn't fear turning his back on four angry Sith,/ thought a person watching from behind a transparisteel window.  Darth Tyranus retreated with some haste out a side door.  He was certain he'd been seen by the doppleganger.   

After a quick walk through another door and a check to see that neither witnesses nor spyscreens had caught him, his Force illusion dissipated.  /If at first you don't succeed, make sure someone else receives the blame,/ said Inculcare to himself. 

As he relaxed in his private chambers, Lord Plagueis pondered this new problem.  He'd been expecting that at least one of the Sith would attempt to kill him after the Force-choke, but Darth Tyranus?   He hadn't thought the man possessed the temerity.  The assassination attempt was obviously the work of someone with great ambition and little compunction, yet the spyscreens indicated no mistake.  The culprit was Tyranus.  It appeared Plagueis had underestimated him.



Was it time to dispatch him?  Unfortunately, Plagueis needed an experienced military commander on this expedition.  Both Xiphos and Gladius were still apprentices and Inculcare's specialty was interrogation, not battle.  Normally the most capable of men, Inculcare had erred when Torqus died.  Tyranus' mistake with Nelkin had not been so bad.  Distasteful as the notion was, it was better to let him live a while longer. 

-oOo-

Tyranus was viewing the results of Horcken's genetic survey when one of his viewscreens lit up without warning.  The Dark Lord of the Sith had not bothered to announce his presence, of course. 

It was too late to hide the fact that he'd broken into Horcken's records.  Tyranus swallowed hard through a bruised throat and said with strained pleasantry, “My lord, we have the preliminary results of the genetic survey ready for your perusal.”

“Well?”  The word was frigid even for a Muun. 

Briefly, Tyranus wondered why he hadn't chosen a life back on Serenno doing nothing more taxing than getting up before noon and forcing roses.

“Both captives are somewhat inbred, my lord, which is not surprising.  The male is less so than the female.  Both are relatives of one another.  It may be that their gene lines have been bred to strengthen this laran, but it may also be that their breeding pool is small.  The percentage of lethal genes appears to have been filtered out generations ago, and both subjects are quite healthy despite their DNA.  Interestingly, both show a small amount of nonhuman genes.  In the boy, this is about six percent, in the girl, about one.  Despite this admixture, our medical computer calculates it is possible we could breed with them.”  Tyranus wondered why Plagueis saw the need to make this call when he could just read the report himself.  What was the Dark Lord up to?

“And?  What is the girl's midichlorian count?”

“My lord,” replied Tyranus, trying to think how to soften the blow.  “She has none.”

“What?” said Plagueis with a hint of anger.  “Do you mean to say she is not a Force-sensitive as we know it?”

“It may be that other genes can access the Force, my lord.  It's also possible these matrices really do most of the work.”

Plagueis fell silent a moment, thinking.  “Our intelligence did not say where the crystals are found, so we must extract this information from the prisoners once they revive.”

“My lord, how much damage is permissible?”  Tyranus licked his lips.

Plagueis’ face was unreadable.  The deep-shadowed hood hid everything except his mouth.  “Minor.  We cannot risk killing the subjects too soon if there is a large amount of information we must extract.  I have given extra thought to the female.  According to Darkovan lore, taking a keeper's virginity will render her Force talent almost harmless.  This is a desirable situation for us, since I would like to see the girl bred to a Sith with a high midichlorian count.  Upon conception, the fetuses can be removed and sent to a gestation chamber.  I want her to bear as many fetuses as possible for my purposes.  This will mean she needs to be healthy enough not to abort from stress.  We will apply light interrogation techniques and heal any damage afterwards.”

“It will be done,” said Tyranus, remembering the Sith Lord’s love of genetic manipulation.  “I presume you wish me to be the one to impregnate the girl?” he asked confidently.

“Darth Inculcare shall be the donor.”

“Indeed, my lord.”  Tyranus was furious.  Sith kept their midichlorian counts secret from one another, and it was maddening to find out this way that Inculcare had a higher count than his own.  The torturer was back in favor again over a damned genetic factor Tyranus could not control.

“You are to start questioning the boy.  Have him verify the girl's identity.”

“Yes, my lord.”  Tyranus bowed. 

“Darth Tyranus?”

“My lord?”

“There is another reason why you were not chosen.  You suffer from delusions of competence, and when faced with the duties of impregnation you would, as your human slang term goes, undoubtedly 'choke.'”

The screen went blank. 

Tyranus gaped.  He'd thought Plagueis had spent all his fury earlier, and now this petty insult?  He ground his teeth, considering again an alliance with Inculcare.  It would be a little tricky--

“My lord?”  Commander Norlo, the Raptor's Chief of Security, appeared on the viewscreen.

“What?” Tyranus answered sharply.

“I have a report of fire and explosions in docking bay one.”

“Send—wait.  Docking bay one?”

“Yes, my lord.  Communications to the bay went dead, and we lost contact with the bay's security holos.  Neither emergency nor security sensors were triggered.  The blast doors were frozen and refusing to respond to all commands.  We had to cut our way in.  I regret to report we've only just received word of the disaster, though it must have occurred nearly forty-five minutes ago.”

“What are the casualties?”

“Two pilots, six mechanics, and the entire Blade Squadron are dead.”

“Everyone dead?  That is--”  Terrific.  “--a shame.”  It saved Tyranus the trouble of killing all the witnesses himself.  He wondered who had done it.  Gladius?  “Is the fire out?”

“Yes, my lord.  The shield opened to snuff the flames.  Unfortunately the Adas was also destroyed in the explosion.”

“Indeed,” replied Tyranus.  Then he realized what Norlo had just said.  Somebody had tried to assassinate Plagueis.  And Plagueis, judging from the communication a moment ago, was still very much alive and very much pissed off.  What's more, pissed off at Tyranus.

Tyranus' nostrils flared like a bull's, his eyes narrowing. 

“My lord?” said Norlo.

“Continue with the repairs,” Tyranus snarled, shutting the comlink. 

It was time to see the culprit, namely Inculcare.

-oOo-

Nothing could be seen inside the Interrogation Center except for two featureless black walls.  Behind these walls were a score of cells, many interrogation droids, Inculcare's pharmacy, and other, less polite instruments of cross-examination.

Catriona's medistretcher was positioned in the center of the room.  Inculcare waved a hand at a wall and a drawer slid out, releasing a cloud of frosty air as a chilled syringe rolled into Inculcare's palm.  It contained one of Inculcare's favorite cocktails, a mixture of serums to lower consciousness, instill a compulsion to obey, and enhance memory.  After the torturer injected the contents into Catriona's arm, he added a drug to reverse the effects of the sedative and cut the room lights to almost nothing, leaving only a spotlight shining on Catriona.  

The main door behind him swung open as Tyranus entered.  Unnoticed by either man, a tiny spybug fluttered its way in and clung to a wall, well-hidden by the darkness.

Inculcare did not even bother to look up.  “Have you heard about the explosion in docking bay one?” he said in a casual tone.  “The Adas went up.”

“I just heard,” Tyranus replied acerbically.  He itched to kill the devious bastard on the spot, but the sight of the girl brought him to himself.  She needed professional questioning and if Inculcare were dead, that meant Xiphos would get Inculcare's job.  Tyranus didn't trust Xiphos any more than he trusted Inculcare. 

“Ah.  It appears the required state of hypnosomia has been reached.”  Inculcare lay his bare hands on the girl’s face and started the process of Force suggestion.

“You know what the Darkovans say about these keepers.  One impudent touch and you'll be struck dead by lightning.  Has Lord Plagueis told you you're supposed to impregnate her?  Go on, test her,” Tyranus said.  He stepped back and smiled unpleasantly. 

Inculcare ignored the comments and undid the primitive bone buttons of Catriona’s gown.  He spread his fingers over a breast and waited for a reaction.  She gave none except for calm breathing.

“Disappointing,” said Tyranus.  “You’re still alive.”  Darkovan women apparently wore nothing beneath their gowns, a discovery Tyranus found absorbing.  He was even more entranced by the sight of the velvet bag lying between her breasts.  It had to be a matrix.

“Not--disappointing,” Inculcare replied.  He suddenly slid his hand between her legs and made a violent motion, jerking with his hand.   

“What are you doing?” snapped Tyranus.  “You’re going to wake her up.”

“I’m testing her status.” Inculcare removed his hand and studied his bloody fingertips.  “She’s a virgin.  Was,” he added with the barest hint of a smile.  The High Inquisitor inhaled the scent off his fingers.

“Would you not do that?” said Tyranus.  “It is unaesthetic.”

“Then it's just as well Lord Plagueis did not choose you to impregnate her.”

“Darth Tyranus.”  One of the walls lit up with the face of Lord Plagueis. 

“My lord?”

“You have delayed.  The boy needs questioning.”

“I am leaving now, my lord.”

“Darth Inculcare, I am here to watch the session--all of it.”

Inculcare paused.  His expression lost a hint of its suavity. 

“I leave you to your work,” said Tyranus with his most obnoxious smile.  For once he didn't mind taking second place to the High Inquisitor.  Imagine having to perform—like that--for the voyeuristic Dark Lord. 

-oOo-