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Swara-Ann Trevelyan

Star Wars: The Sith War - Fiction: Only Two Remain

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The portal slid open and a shadowed figure walked through the shadows of the archway, its features obscured by the light from the outer passageway mingling with the darkness of the chamber it now entered. The darkened room was an office, its feature not completely blackened but in a state of twilight as the lights from the city outside shone through the plate glass window that reached across the entire length of the office’s northern wall.

The man, a zabrak, hustled as quickly as he could, his corpulent frame prevented him from moving too hastily. His breathing was raspy, like his lungs were about to collapse from over exertion. The lower drawer to his desk slid open followed by a crystal glass that sent a shimmer around the room with its reflective facets. Corellian Brandy poured into the glass a bit tumbling over the rim as the man’s hand shook nervously.

“Something troubling you Vigo Pallo?” Cooed an accented voice speaking galactic basic, feminine and alluring and obscured by the shadows of the unlit office.

The overweight alien, sweat beading from his brow, smiled as he tipped the glass to his lips gulping the sweet liquor down in a single swallow. He hardly seemed surprised to hear himself addressed from the shadows. “I should have guessed. It was only a matter of time before that bitch sent her bitch to do her dirty work."

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From the shadows Darth Nephtis stepped into view, her red lips visible the entire time, but Vigo Pallo was in no shape to notice. Her pale skin could barely be seen, almost covered by her black krayt leather clothing. Her boots reached as high as her thighs and her skirt hung as low as her knees slit up to her hip on each side for maximum mobility. Vigo Pallo noticed the lightsaber clipped at her side.

Like a runway starlet she placed one foot in front of the other and gently stepped down the three steps into the meeting area of the office. He sat behind the large desk and in front of it were three comfortable chairs used to meet with all manner of criminals and corrupt officials.

“Careful what you say Vigo, I may take offense.” She replied as she sat down in one of the chairs. She heard his desk drawer open.

“Care for a drink?” Vigo Pallo reached into his drawer to get her a glass.

“Your blaster is not there, fool,” Darth Nephtis slung her feet up onto his desk, making herself comfortable. “Nor is your panic button working.”

Frustration gripped the large Iridonian, he gripped the glass, squeezing tightly as if to crush it. “Just kill me already, woman! I’m already tired of your games!”

The Sith woman smiled and her crimson lips remained visible regardless of the luminance in the room. She clenched her fists, fitting the tight leather gloves she wore. The creaking sounds played havoc with Vigo Pallo’s nerves. “I’m not here to kill you Vigo Pallo. I’m tired of killing tonight.”

“What is it you want then?” He poured another drink for himself. Just the mere presence of Nephtis drove his fear and nerves to the brink of a meltdown. “I’m not backing down. She pays up, or I go to the Republic with all of it. Either she pays, or they will. Nothing personal, just business. She has two days left to consider my offer. If you kill me, she’ll get nothing.”

“I told you already you tub of worthless cowardice, I’m not here to kill you.” She took her feet of his desk and stood up. He watched her closely as she moved along the desk’s side. She half-way sat upon its edge, one foot still on the floor while her leg rested comfortably upon the polished surface. “This game you and my Master are playing has me rather intrigued.”

“I don’t follow.” Vigo Pallo stammered, his voice shaken by her proximity to him.

“It amazes me how people with such similarities and things in common always find it so difficult to agree with one another.” The Dark Jedi lazily swayed her leg back and forth, creating an illusion that she may be off balance. “Everyone always wants more now, never realizing that if they are patient they will get everything they desire in time.”

Zabraks were a tough species to crack. The Vigo didn’t know where she was going with her little lecture, but he wasn’t buying it and she wasn’t even past the first sentence. She was a violent and scary woman, but when it came to intimidating Crime Lords, this lady had a lot to learn.

“My business is in the here and now, I’m not about to put off profit until tomorrow that I can have today. The Galaxy goes through Sith Lords like a Hutt at a buffet. I want to make sure I get my credits, period. You’re Master and I have nothing in common, Jedi.” He let the ‘Jedi’ slip off with a snide tone, as if she were to suddenly become humiliated by her fall to the Dark Side and immediately repent.

She picked up the holo of Pallo’s family up from its place on the desk. “Vigo Pallo, loving husband, successful ‘business man’,” she let that part slip with a bit of emphasis. “And father of two daughters, very impressive.”

“Three daughters, and I know what your trying to do,” Corellian Brandy splattered across the desk, the glass in Vigo Pallo’s hand broke, cutting his thumb, but he didn’t notice as the implied threat boiled his blood. “If you think I’ll sit here and…”

“Silence.” The vile Jedi spoke and her tone implied more than a threat this time. In a single word she regained control of the conversation. The Iridonian man immediately was overcome with the fear of a thousand times worse than any he could ever have fathomed in his mind. “As I was saying…”

Nephtis stood again and placed herself behind the Crime Lord’s large chair and rested her gloved hands gently on his quivering shoulders. She knew he felt the final moments of his life drawing near and her crimson lips grinned with enjoyment. “Two. That is what you and my Master have in common. You both possess incredible willpower; neither willing to give into the demands of the other.”

Sweat droplets gently streamed down temple. The fear was subsiding but he still dare not move with her so close. She leaned around, whispering into his ear almost seductively. “It’s all very exciting.”

Leaving her perch over his shoulder Darth Nephtis made her way to the exit. She said nothing more until the door detected her presence and slid open on it’s own allowing yellow light to shine into the room upon the Crime Lord Vigo. Tears had formed as his mind tried to guess which if his children the Sith had stolen from him. “I told you I was tired of killing for one night,” Her shadowy exotic frame held every ounce of his attention. “My master has two days to decide, you have two daughters left. I’m curious to see which side will give in first. I’ll be following the outcome of this negotiation very closely.”

The door slid closed as the echoed laughter of Darth Nephtis filled his ears.

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Polla Pello struggled against her bindings but to no avail. With every youthful grunt of exerted strength she only grew more tired and gotten nowhere. She was in a blackened room with the only illumination coming from thin bulbs of red radiance from the edges of the floor and ceiling. Her arms were sore as she hung on a vertical table bound like a “T”, but the Zabrak child, barely into her tenth year, was unharmed for the most part.

The door to her ‘cell’ slid open and Darth Nephtis stepped through with a quickened pace. Her expression showed that she was either not very pleased or in a very serious mood. “Your father thinks you dead, child.” She said, her heels echoed through the small room as she approached the child.

Polla could do nothing but cry. She was afraid, scared, sore, and just wanted to go home.

“Shh… shh…,” Nephtis kissed her gently on the forehead while slipping her long gloves off her arms. “So innocent. So innocent indeed…” The Sith Lord was intoxicated by the child’s fear, sorrow, and pain.

“I-I wanna see my daddy,” sobs and sniffles filled Nephtis’s senses and she looked upon her, those blood red lips of hers refused to give way to darkness and remained a crimson contrast to the shadows of the room. “I wanna go home.”

“My dear,” dark purple bolts of Force summoned energy coursed through the small child’s frame. She wailed in misery and cried out in pain. Every second was an eternity; the ten year old felt her skin blister and took the scent of her own flesh into her nostrils. Darth Nephtis’s smile was all she could see through the haze of the flesh-scented smoke and saline tears once the energy had subsided. “You are home and I will find your innocence child, and tear it from you kicking and screaming!”

More energy filled the room and the girl’s screams were heard all throughout the halls of the Sith Lord’s lair. A few of the soldiers that served under her found themselves feeling remorse and pity for the poor child. All they could do was close their eyes and hope it was never them on that table.

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