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Disclaimer: Star Wars and all the characters you recognise are the property of one George Lucas. I'm not making any money out of this, so please don't sue.


Chapter 4: Shadows and Mist


Korr Vark negligently picked at his sharp teeth with a claw, and, after inspecting the scrapings, wiped it off on his stained silk robe. "And why, exactly, should I risk my perfectly comfortable position here by helping you, Master Fell?"

Darth Sidious briefly considered telling the obese Shistavenan that if he didn't comply, then he, Lord Sidious, would take great pleasure in strangling the alien with his own greasy intestines. Instead, he said "Count Dooku..."

"Dooku is dead," Vark cut him off. "My loyalty was to him, not his servant. You'll have to come up with something better than empty promises. Something real."

The greedy glint in the wolfman's eyes let Lord Sidious know exactly what Vark had in mind, and he ground his teeth in frustration. The intestines idea was becoming more appealing by the second. He stepped forward and bowed smoothly. "My Lord Vark..." Time to see just how strong willed the former spymaster was... "I'm afraid that you will have my vessel repaired, or you will suffer the consequences." He added the mental push that should sear his command into the other's mind, and waited a beat before continuing. "Which most assuredly will be unpleasant."

The fat alien blinked rapidly, staring past the Sith Master at something only he could see. "I will repair your ship, or suffer the consequences," he said in a dazed growl.

Sidious allowed himself a thin smile, partly obscured by the metal mask he wore to disguise his all too recognisable features. Perhaps this forsaken moon wasn't so bad after all. "Very good, Vark."

The Shistavenan leant forward on his crude throne, barking orders to the motley crowd of hangers-on that infested his audience chamber. Several of them scurried off to locate mechanics, droids and engine parts.

"Can I offer you refreshments and a little entertainment in the meantime, Lord Fell?" Vark waved a clawed hand and a young human woman came timidly to his side, blinking at him in obvious fear. "This is Rella. She will look after you. Take him to the Purple Chamber." This last directed at the girl, who curtsied warily and beckoned to Sidious.

"Would the noble sir like to follow me?" she asked in a low voice.

Not really, he thought, but anything had to be better than further time spent in the company of V-3PO.


The Purple Chamber proved to be exactly as advertised, a musty room draped in elaborate velvet hangings in varying shades of purple. The room's faded decadence left Sidious in no doubt as to what activity was expected of him here, and he wrinkled his nose at the shabby air of it all. Ignoring the young woman, the bed and the old protocol droid laying a meal out on the table, the Sith Lord strode to the window and looked out into the thick yellow fog.

The accursed fog covered the entire moon, and left many of the long-term residents with any number of unpleasant respitory diseases. Small wonder, then, that most of Mist's inhabitants were smugglers and pirates, folk who could easily move on should the moon become tiresome.

The hiss of the door sweeping shut drew him out of his reverie, and he recalled that he was not alone. The girl stood beside the table, her hands clasped demurely before her. "Would my Lord like to eat?" she inquired.

"It's 'my Lord' now, is it?" he said, obscurely amused. She probably said that to all her customers. However, the sound of his voice startled her, and she drew back as he seated himself in the only available chair and inspected the contents of the dishes.

Fastidiously, he selected a slice of the only fruit he recognised, and took a bite. The young woman watched him with wide eyes, and he sensed her mingled fear and curiosity.

Finishing the fruit, he beckoned her over. Hesitantly, she came to him and the Sith Master reflected that shyness was not really a desirable quality in any whore, no matter how young. "Rella, isn't it?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes, my Lord." Emboldened by his attention, she delicately placed her hand on the arm of his chair, fingers brushing against his wrist. He watched her with hooded eyes, but declined to comment. Confident now, she slid onto his lap. "I am quite skilled," she whispered into his ear as her fingers walked up his chest.

"I'm sure you are," he murmured, and she flinched ever so slightly. This close, he could see that she was younger than he had initially thought, beneath that heavy makeup. She couldn't have more than fourteen or fifteen Standard years to her name, and close inspection also revealed the dark circles beneath her eyes and the yellow pallor that marked her as victim of the noxious fog. It was either, he decided, a calculated insult by Korr Vark, or the Shistavenan actually believed that he would enjoy taking his ease with the sickly little creature.

Rella's fingers reached his face then, and fumbled with his mask. Sidious's own hand snapped up with snakelike speed and closed firmly but gently around her wrist. She looked at him with anxious surprise as he put her hand back on the arm of the chair.

"My Lord?"

"I fear that I am not your type, child," he said with a thin smile, pushing her away.

Ashamed and humiliated, Rella scrambled away from him and attempted to gather what little remained of her dignity.

"Eat something," he told her, rising and stalking back to the window.

After a properly decent interval, there was a quiet tap on the door.

"Enter," he said, without turning.

The door cycled open and a muscular Zabrak man entered and bowed. "Master Fell, Lord Vark regrets to inform you that it will take some time to acquire the requisite parts to repair your ship. He offers you the hospitality of the palace in the meantime."

Sidious turned on the spot, and coldly regarded the man. The Zabrak met his eyes squarely. "Very well," he said at last. "Your hospitality is not required, however. I will return to my ship."

The Zabrak major-domo bowed again. "As you wish. Follow me."

Rella watched him warily as he crossed to the door, and as an afterthought he reached into the pocket of his shabby overcoat and flipped a couple of the crude metal bits that served as currency here to her. She caught them easily and flashed him a lightning smile.

"Buy something nice," he said shortly, following the Zabrak out.

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The sun slanted across the vast cityscape, breaking through the clouds in delicate beams of light. Anakin Skywalker stood at an arched window, observing the milling crowd of sentients in the plaza below. On any day, there were crowds moving to and fro outside the Jedi Temple, but today was different. Today, they lingered with purpose. Some sat, some gathered in groups, and some appeared to be engaged in impromptu public speaking. Palpatine. They were all talking about Palpatine. He sighed.

For days there had been no word. Their agents had nothing. Sidious appeared to have vanished as surely as smoke in a breeze. In one respect, it was a relief. If he had vanished, then none of the Jedi that would see him dead could find him, but on the other hand, neither could Anakin. He hated the waiting. The need to find the Sith Lord burned within him, but he could do nothing. Balling his fists in frustration, Anakin forced himself to think, to be rational, to be calm.

It was difficult to maintain a Jedi's calm, however, when so much was at stake. And Padme's intractability on the subject only puzzled and frustrated him further. She did not seem to understand that he was only acting for the best, for her, for their child. There was nothing he would not do to keep her safe.

Footsteps echoing across the polished marble floor and the sense of a familiar presence announced the arrival of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Anakin turned and smiled tightly at his old friend and mentor.

Obi-Wan's eyes glittered with suppressed excitement, and Anakin sensed...

"News?" he demanded, eagerly.

The Jedi Master grinned a little in triumph. "Master Vos's war network."

"And?" Anakin pressed.

"An agent saw someone - masked - use the Mind Trick on an unsuspecting old pirate with ties to the C.I.S. The agent thinks Jedi, Quinlan thinks otherwise."

Anakin's dark mood fled. "When? Where? When are we going?"

"Yesterday, a forsaken little place called Mist, out on the Perlemian Trade Route, and right now."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Anakin turned and strode away.

"We should be careful," Obi-Wan said, hurrying after him. "The Council didn't want you to go, but after the debacle in the holding office, I think I may need you with me."

Anakin smiled. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

The Jedi Master merely grinned.

"What?"

"I distinctly remember telling you not to worry, and that we would find him." Obi-Wan said smugly.

Anakin smirked. "No, you said not to worry, he would turn up eventually."

"It means the same thing."

"It does not. Anyway, Master Vos found him." Anakin shot the older man a challenging smile.

Obi-Wan frowned. "You're right. Ki-Adi owes me lunch."

"You bet on it?" Anakin asked, aghast.

"A small wager placed between friends is nothing to go shouting about," Obi-Wan said, glancing meaningfully at a gaggle of Padawans who watched them pass with hero-worship in their eyes.

"It might all turn out to be a wild bantha chase anyway," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan shot him a look. "Do you really think so?"

Anakin thought about it for a moment. "No."

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The creeping yellow mist curled around the sleek ship in lazy eddies and gusts. Within, in the cargo hold, Darth Sidious held his lightsaber slanted across his chest in a guard position, eyes closed. Eight training droids hovered silently, floating around him in a complicated dance. Bolts of energy sizzled from three, and he spun gracefully, deflecting the fire back at the tiny machines. The three dropped to the floor, their fried insides sparking fitfully. Block, thrust, a strike to the left and then to the right in a sweeping figure of eight that left another four in pieces, and then a final thrust backwards that speared the eighth. Too easy.

"More remotes," he instructed V-3PO.

"But sir! Those were the last of the training remotes!"

Sidious advanced on him, lightsaber casting a sinister red light across his aquiline features. "Then I'll have to make do with what I have," he said with a diabolical grin.

V-3PO's photoreceptors flashed brightly in mechanical terror. "My Lord! Has my service displeased you in some way?"

Chuckling, the Sith Master deactivated his blade and slipped it into his sleeve. Too easy, indeed.

As V-3PO composed himself, his counterpart wheeled in, whistling urgently.

"What is he saying?" Sidious asked, wishing for the nth time that astromech droids could talk.

"Oh my..."

"Well?" the Sith Lord demanded, his hand moving meaningfully towards the opposite sleeve.

"He says there is someone outside." V-3PO watched his master's hand very carefully.

"That is hardly unusual. This is a spaceport."

R2-M4 beeped again.

"He says, and I quote, 'there is an organic life form sneaking around the emergency hatch.' End quote."

Sidious's eyes went flat. "Is there indeed..."

Striding down the passage to the landing ramp, the Sith Lord considered the possibilities. It could be someone employed by Vark or one of his associates come to sabotage the vessel. It could very well be an opportunistic thief, trying to score big. Or some unfortunate, trying to hitch an uninvited ride off this rock. It could be any one of a number of things, none of them particularly innocent, but none of them posing a particular threat, either. However, he had not reached high station in life by letting any possibility go unaccounted for. At least, not until recently... His lips thinned as he considered his recent folly. He would not make that mistake again.

He trod lightly as he exited the ship, for once thankful for the thick fog. He would not see his target until he was practically upon them, but they would not see him, either. And in this matter, he had the advantage. Reaching out with the Force, he located the interloper easily, and he frowned. The presence was somehow... familiar.

The Sith Lord moved quickly, his lightsaber slipping from his forearm into his hand, and he came upon the small figure crouched beside the emergency exit hatch with surprising speed. The sentient certainly didn't see him coming as he stepped up behind and seized the intruder by the scruff of the neck.

There was a feminine gasp of horror, and he casually slammed the woman face-first into the cold metal of the hatch. Drawing her back, he observed that her nose had shattered quite satisfactorily. She stared up at him, fear, pain and surprise rolling off her.

Surprise echoed by his own. "Rella?"

She glared at him. "Let me go," she said, thickly.

"I hardly think so." He shifted his grip from her neck to her wrist, and twisted it up behind her back. She yelped as her shoulder threatened to pop from its socket. Grimly, he marched her back to the landing ramp and shoved her forwards.

She did try to gather herself and dash past him, but got no more than a few feet before she found herself being raised by some unseen force. She hung there for a few moments, spitting invectives and glaring at him, her green eyes flashing.

Sidious flicked his wrist almost negligently, and tossed her into the corridor. She landed in a heap, and watched him through the lank hair that fell across her eyes. He reached the top of the ramp and palmed the inner door closed.

"Chancellor... Palpatine?" she asked, incredulously, seeing his face clearly for the first time.

"You obviously haven't heard the news, my girl. You may address me as Darth Sidious."

The colour draining from her face was really quite satisfying.

He stepped over her and headed for his private chambers. Wrapping tendrils of the Force around her wrists and ankles, he pulled her along with him. She struggled, fruitlessly, and swore.

Once inside, he locked the door and allowed her to drop to the floor. She scrambled to her feet and backed up against the far wall.

"If you are armed, now is the time to hand your weapons over. I assure you, you do not want me to search you."

Rella eyed him, judging her chances. Her gaze dropped to the black and silver cylinder in his hand, and she shrugged hopelessly and reached under her thin shirt.

The crude knife dropped to the floor, and he called it to him. Examining the pathetic thing, he raised an eyebrow. "And the rest..."

For a second, she did not move. Then, her hand flashed up with a tiny hold out blaster from her sleeve, and fired.

Sidious stepped to the side, the crimson blade flashing to life. Smoothly, he parried, and the bolt sizzled back into the wall, millimetres from her cheek.

He stalked towards her. "I grow bored."

Rella dropped the tiny pistol, and a stiletto blade followed it to the floor.

Sidious sent them away with a flick of his fingers, and stood before her, lightsaber ignited. "You're good," he said, a faint note of admiration in his tone. "Yes, you're very good. You had me fooled, I admit. So, a whore and a thief..."

She didn't answer.

"Or," he added, almost as an afterthought, "a /spy/..."

The young woman drew herself up. "I admit I didn't expect this," she said. "I thought you were a Jedi, or something."

"Did you now? And why was that? Oh, and incidentally, whom are you working for?

She glared at him. "I'm not telling you anything."

Darth Sidious smiled slowly. "Oh, I doubt that very much."

Rella swallowed hard, but her eyes never left his. "The mind trick thing again?"

"No, no, my dear. I have much more entertaining methods of encouraging your co-operation." His smile was hellish. "I, also, am quite skilled..."

Within a very short space of time, she was screaming. When the noise grew tiresome, and he judged that his point had been made, he allowed her to crawl away into a corner. She huddled there, sobbing, arms wrapped around herself.

He let her be for a moment as he composed himself. Her terror and pain were exquisite, and he savoured it like a fine wine. Then he approached her once more.

"Now," he said pleasantly, "are you ready to be reasonable?"

Rella nodded fervently, and he smiled.

"Good girl. What were you doing outside?"

"Looking for a way in," she answered dully.

"Why?" He stepped closer to her, and she drew back.

"Because the boss was interested in you. Very interested."

"Was he, now? Vark?"

Rella snorted. "Hardly. That old fleabag wouldn't know a Force-user if one got up and spitted him on a lightsaber."

"Quite," he murmured. "Answer the question, please."

She flinched. "I don't know who he is. I just passed on information to the Republic. Vark ran part of the Seperatist network, and..."

"Yes, yes, I know," he interrupted. "Was he a Jedi?"

She looked up at him. "I don't know. He could have been."

Sidious advanced another step. "Think harder," he suggested.

Rella's eyes widened in horror, and she gasped as the Sith Lord's shadow fell across her. "Yes, he was. A Jedi Master. There, that's all I know!"

Darth Sidious crouched down beside her and she cringed as he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"Please," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.

"Just one thing," he said. "How old are you really?"

She blinked in confusion. "Nineteen."

"Really?" he said, with some surprise. "Remarkable."

"You're going to kill me." It was not a question.

"Yes," he said. "I am."

The Force was there, as always, and he summoned it to him with barely a thought. She was dead in seconds as he stopped her heart, and he rose stiffly to his feet. And although he felt no guilt in the act, he took no pleasure from it either.

Summoning V-3PO, Sidious ordered him to take the corpse to the portside airlock, and dump it when they reached the edge of the system. If the Shistavenan proved reliable, the Night Hunter's engines ought to be in full working order by tomorrow night.

He watched as the protocol droid attended to his duties without, for once, issuing a running commentary. It really was a shame. Such potential. He allowed himself to feel the tiniest hint of regret as Rella's feet disappeared around the door. However, there were larger worries. The identity of Rella's contact concerned him greatly. If he was indeed a Jedi, then the inestimable Master Vos was probably reporting to the Council right now. Time was, once again, of the essence.

He did so hate to be rushed.