Grobnica Marka Ragnosa

((po dogodkih v dolini))

The tomb was as dark, imposing, silent, and mostly boring as ever. When the person now known as Darth Pride first walked the halls of the final resting place of one of the most powerful Dark Lords of the Sith that ever existed, she was awe-struck as well as endlessly vigilant for potential traps or ambushes. Many years had passed since then, more than she cared to admit, and although her face and physique have shown little trace thereof, her mind now had a good recollection of every single one of the few traps that still remained active. A couple of tuk'ata and k'lor slugs had managed to infest a few of the chambers during the absence of any civilized life-form, but she dispatched the ones that were stupid enough to attempt attacking her with hardly more then willing them to die. Once she had reached the final chamber, containing the sealed sarcophagus of Ragnos himself, she sat herself not far from the dead Sith Lord's resting place and began to meditate. The Dark Side of the Force was incredibly strong everywhere in the Valley of the Dark Lords, and while Pride herself found it intrusive sometimes, she revelled in it at others; such as at that particular moment.
Yet even with the resounding dark energy of the four great tombs, she was able to sense a presence approaching her. How could she not? She had grown to know the man that now neared her by many titles. Scoundrel, apprentice and lover were only some of them.
"So you have decided to follow me here, my apprentice," she said with a calmness that veiled her true passions. The battle earlier that day had provided her with a fresh opportunity to test herself, which she had longed for for a long time, as well as the life-force of a formidable opponent, whose strength and Force power now fuelled her own.
"Mind sharing your own opinion over what happened today? You may speak freely, as you well know. Not that you ever needed me to say so," she continued, her back still turned towards him and her body still seated in a meditative pose, her eyes closed.

((Kareem?))

((sori ki nisem odpisala takoj, nisem vidla))

He smirked. Of course he smirked, did he ever do anything else? The expression came to his facial muscles almost more naturally than a relaxed state, it seemed. The bounty-hunter-turned-Sith had become a true master of the art over the years, honing his smirking skills to perfection; he could easily pull off anything from the tiniest of grins to the widest of leers and any nuance in between – often so sophisticated that the untrained eye couldn't spot it.

The smirk he was sporting now could be easily mistaken for an ordinary one, but under close inspection the curve of Kareem's thin lips would reveal much more. The way his scar was slightly misshapen by the grin, for example, meant that the smile was truly heartfelt – if such a thing were possible where a man like Tyriani was concerned, of course – and not simply painted on for façade's sake. His smugness was almost solely focused in the left corner of his mouth that was quirked slightly higher than the right, and his exhilaration – and perhaps a tad of excitement – reflected by his parted lips.

All these infinitesimal inflections went unnoticed by the woman who kept her back to him even though she addressed his approach, lost to the shifting of facial planes as Kareem opened his mouth to respond.

"My opinion?" he shook his head with a light chuckle and stopped a few paces behind the sitting empress.

"I just hope I never do anything to provoke a kiss like that, my lady," though he was deathly serious his tone retained its usual playfulness. He was silent for a few long moments, studying the relaxed form of the woman before him. She had a way of slipping into roles and then shedding them like a second skin, something Kareem was intimately familiar with. So familiar, in fact, that he wondered for a moment if Pride even knew her true self anymore. He'd seen her wear more personalities than most people have shoes, and that was just in the short span of time that he knew her. Well, knew of her, anyway.

He crossed what little remained of the distance between them and seated himself beside her; they'd shared a bed, after all, and were completely alone in the ancient tomb. Well, save for the ghost of Marka Ragnos, if he'd stuck around for all these centuries for some reason. The former bounty hunter wondered, albeit very briefly, if seducing the Lady of the Sith right then and there could be considered exhibitionism. He dismissed the train of thought for fear of the woman picking up on it, though the idea did send a thrilling jolt through his body; the memories of what happened the last time he didn't behave were still fresh and very much alive in his mind.

((upam da je kul ;P ))

His wordplay made her chuckle slightly, but the pale Sith Lady replied in a more sombre tone:
"Whether you like it or not, someday you will."
She felt him tense up at having heard that, and his instincts flared with a familiar fight-or-flight urge. This was nothing unexpected, anyone who knew what she was capable of and had any sense of self-preservation would have had the same impulses. What made a person extraordinary, however, was tempering those instincts with reason.
"You are afraid. I understand. But you need not be," she began to explain. "Think of it from a business perspective: I am investing a lot into you; time, effort, resources, power, knowledge. Sooner or later, you will have paid it all back with interest." She was aware that the metaphor was somewhat misleading, so she let him no time to think and swept on:
"I intend for you to be a very powerful Sith for a very long time, and I plan to use you extensively. But sooner or later, your body and mind will begin to falter, and one day, they will pass a threshold when you yourself become marginally redundant. On that day, I will absorb all of your power and what will be left of your life force. Consider it this way: with all you are getting now and all you will yet experience, are the last two or three decades of your biological maximum really that high a price to pay?"
Turning by 90 degrees, she was now facing him.
"Besides; if I absorb your energy, your essence will not disperse into the Universal Force. Instead of losing all of your individuality and becoming pure energy, you will lose only most of your individual consciousness, which will have become part of me. It is likely the closest thing you will ever get to immortality." For only *I* can be allowed to live forever, she added to herself, noting that the experiments with that were still under way. Oh sure, she had learned how to keep one's individuality even after death, and become what was commonly known as a "force ghost" - from the resident of the very tomb they were in now, in fact - but she never had any intention of dying in the first place. Instead, she was convinced that not only her life, but her youth and beauty as well, could be preserved by either techniques in the Force, or advances in genetic bioengineering. The second she left in the hands of her capable, and most importantly, exclusively devoted experts - the primer, on the other hand, she trusted none but herself to accomplish and deliver.
"What is your position on that? Living forever?" she pried, suddenly interested in his opinion due to some unexplained reason.

His smirk was smothered in its crib and Kareem felt his heart miss a beat in his chest. He took a few long moments to compose himself, desperately eager to turn around and find her grinning at him in jest, even though he knew that she wasn't joking. It wasn't a laughing matter, after all. His features hardened as he set his jaw and slowly let his gaze connect with hers. It was always difficult for the Sith to read Pride's emotions, because, really, the pure white of her eyes was, if not unsettling, at least confusing. But he never said anything, because the empress continued too fast for him to get a word in edgewise, so he just settled for listening to whatever she had to say.

With every sentence that left the arkanian's mouth he felt the storm in his eyes gain momentum. His lips were a thin white line and every semblance of humor was gone from his face. He wanted to bite back, to spit at her every word that reeled and seethed in his mind, but even in his rage he knew not to throw away his life just to indulge a momentary impulse. So he wrestled down his anger and swallowed whatever he had left of his pride.

"I," he started lamely, his usual eloquence gone, then closed his mouth again. He wasn't ready to speak yet, he realized. He hadn't yet processed what Lady Pride had told him, not fully at least. And any words spoken before he could really comprehend the meaning of what she'd told him would only be hasty and reckless. So he sat there in the silence of the tomb, suddenly very conscious of the weight of mortality that settled on his shoulders. This was not something he experienced often, if ever; on the contrary, Kareem Tyriani seldom entertained thoughts of dying and what may come after.

"Look," he said finally, not bothering with High Galactic this time, for he did not find it in himself at that moment to go out of his way to appeal to the woman's tastes. "I am not afraid." His voice was hard, almost adamant, and there was a rare sharp tone underneath. "Not of death, at least. It's something I've always found comfort in," Kareem shook his head and then turned to face the woman completely.

"But I will not be your… tool," he said with such resentment that he was surprised at himself. The hunter had never really felt many emotions, not the way most people did. He knew of them, but they were less like loud music blaring in one's ear and more like the sound of distant thunder; he was aware of them, but they never really got close enough for him to experience them in their full might.

"So every one of your apprentices, we're what? Your walking, talking insurance policies?" Kareem scoffed and shook his head. "You know, one of the first questions you asked me when you began training me was why it's better to dominate than destroy," he couldn't believe how blind he'd been. How easily Darth Pride enticed and captured those around her. Then again, how could have he seen the web? You can't see Nar Shaddaa if you're nourishing a drink in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. He let out a low sigh and then answered her last question, warily, as if it were some sort of trap. "I wouldn't like it, I suppose. I'd get bored. And what's the point, anyway? There surely comes a day when you know everything there is to know, and are the single strongest, most powerful being in the universe. Then what?" Kareem looked at her, truly wondering why one would want to live forever.

"Nobody would… what would you do with yourself then? You couldn't die anyway, and you will have experienced everything there is to experience. All you'd be left with would be an eternity to relive your memories," he shook his head again, this time almost vehemently. "No, I'd rather die when I still have a life left to live," he concluded as his silver eyes found hers again.

"I always imagined I'd meet my end in some squalid back alley, courtesy of a blaster shot to the back of the head," he chuckled humorlessly and then added, softly, "so in comparison to that… becoming a part of somebody like you doesn't seem like a bad way to go."

"Wrong," she rebuked confidently, her eyes twin gems of frozen light.
"You are afraid, but you do not let yourself feel it; for you have grown to despise weakness, these last months more so than ever before, and you perceive fear to be a form weakness. Perhaps not of death, that much is true, but you do have fear; for not being yourself any more, for not being the master of your own life and fate, for being a pawn in the hands of those greater than you."
There were moments when Pride was kind, sweet, or seductive, and she often employed honey instead of acid to trap the Killik... and then there were times when it was plainly evident that she had not taken up the moniker of Dark Lord of the Sith, or the title of Darth, without good reason. This was not one of the former.
"But you need not suppress your fear: it is an emotion, like all others, and as you once knew, but chose to forget, fear can be useful. As long as you do not let it cripple your actions or cloud your judgement, fear will give you focus, will make you alert, give you the drive you need to stay alive at any cost. A true Sith would be foolish to deprive themselves of such assets for fear of being seen as weak."
The Dark Lady let her apprentice ponder that lesson for a moment or two, then turned her attention to the issue he pressed before:
"There is always something going on in this universe," she began to answer. "I do not delude myself that even if - no, when - I take over the entire galaxy, there would be eternal peace and prosperity. Conflicts will always arise, even should I succeed in eradicating every single one of my enemies; perhaps not against me, but the many factions, species and worlds of this galaxy will never be completely at peace with one another. I will, however, usher in a new era of cooperation and sensible use of the unique talents of as many as possible." She chuckled and added, mostly in jest:
"Besides, should I get bored, I can always retire as a recluse hermit and continue to ponder the many mysteries of the Force in isolation."
She knew what he spoke of, and she made a mental note to assure that she would be able to end her existence if (and only if) she truly so desired. But as the joke, and other thoughts regarding the issue, faded from their attention, she returned to the issue that she sensed still haunted Kareem's mind.
"You have known well enough that you will have been a tool to serve my goals the moment you had joined me. But is that truly so terrible? You are bound to me, and your body and mind will serve my will; but are you not also given plenty of freedom within those bonds, and power to tower over your lessers and crush your enemies? You may be mine, but do I require complete and utter obedience? You know very well that I have droids for that. Serving me is not unlike being a free man in the Republic; except I do not require you to take up arms for some deluded sense of nationality that has made no sense for millennia already, but rather to do so in exchange for power and the spoils of war, if the thrill of battle does not suffice." She smiled, although the smile was only half sweet, while the other half retained the sternness of her tone.
"As I have said often-times and you have pointed out, I do not waste anything recklessly. I intend for you to live a very full and long life - preferably also full of eradicating my enemies, as well as... other uses I may have for you," the smile she gave him now, on the other hand was genuine, though she soon finished the trail of thought;
"But at some point, you will have become old and inevitably weaker. Once you are too weak to fulfil my desires and most importantly, you become far less useful as a separate being, only then will I end your life as you know it and take your power as mine own, as I do with all of my subjects who have an extensive reservoir of power and have objectively and permanently outgrown their usefulness. Not few of them view it as a reward; not only are they spared the torment of seeing themselves grow weak, decrepit and hideous, they are also not a burden onto the younger generations and perform one last great act of service to me personally."
She was willing to let the matter lie, but she had to make one last remark regarding the issue:
"Of course, should you chose to cross me, all of that may happen to you far sooner than intended. I would of course be quite sad to be deprived of you and your many talents, but I can't very well have outright disobedience and especially not treason within my ranks, now can I?"

Kareem's nostrils flared, but he managed to rein in his anger again, even though his eyes retained their fire. He did not appreciate it when people shot him down without really listening; that was the problem, really, with most conversations. Nobody actually wanted to hear what you had to say, it was all just noise in between their own responses; responses that had been prepared and pre-rendered long before you even entered the conversation. That's what always irked the ex-bounty hunter. Not that he was the most verbose of people, far from it even, but he always enjoyed a good talk.

Trouble was, a good talk was a rare commodity even in the modern and progressive Republic. Imagine his surprise, then, when he'd found better conversation partners among the members of the – supposedly – most oppressive and backstabbing regime to ever grace the Galaxy with its doctrine. In time he'd learned enough about Darth Pride and her methods to realize that she was nothing like a typical Sith, but it still amazed him how intriguing some discussions could get.

It came as an even greater disappointment when he realized that here, too, people did not always listen. Oh, well. No system is ever perfect.

"I'm not afraid. I'm really not. There's…" he shrugged, then looked away. "I was hired on as a bodyguard of sorts once. The guy was rich, and he wanted the best, so somehow he found me. And he was really happy with my target practice results, but because of "his public image" he needed to make sure that he employed stable people," Kareem continued, his eyes fixed to a point somewhere in the swirling darkness. "Axis II, or something. 'Sociopath', the shrink called me," he snorted derisively and looked away. "Angry, I can do. Other stuff? Not so much. Survival instinct? Yeah. But I don't feel fear... well, maybe I do, but my experience is nowhere near the conventional thing," The Sith sighed as he rolled the tasteless words on his tongue. He never talked about this, partly because the police were still looking for the guy who'd torched one of the most respected psychiatrists in that system, and partly because, well, people generally didn't like you very much once that label had been slapped on. Still, he felt that due to the circumstances, his statement warranted an explanation that would satisfy the Empress of the Sith.

"I don't see the appeal of an eternity of taking out the galaxy's trash," the former bounty hunter cast an incredulous look Pride's way, then continued, "but being the force to unify this mess that we call home… it would certainly look nice on a CV." Kareem found that the arkanian's words had appeased him somewhat, but the humor in his tone did a good job of masking the timbre of relief.

"No," he replied surprisingly quietly, refusing to budge even if it meant slighting the single most powerful individual alive. "I will not be your tool," he repeated the precarious statement, his eyes hard and features wrought with determination. "I will exact your will in the galaxy, and live and breathe to further your goals. My hands will be your instrument of destruction, my tongue the device of your plots. I will visit death and fear upon the unsuspecting and the unworthy. I will wreak havoc in your name and remind your every enemy whom they should fear, and rightfully so."

"I will do all that, just not as your tool, but as your hand, My Lady," the man gave her a slow smile. His High Galactic had returned in its full might, it would seem. Kareem smirked, and his eyes glinted in the dark. "I assure you, I value my life too highly to attempt anything that is indubitably doomed to fail. Betrayal and treason fall under that definition, I would imagine."

Kareem was quiet for some time then, enjoying the respite silence offered. If he tried hard enough he could almost pretend he was alone in the tomb, but in the back of his mind Pride's presence always lingered, especially here, on Korriban, where everything Sith was amplified tenfold. He was more than a little apprehensive when he fully opened himself to the Force, uncertain if he could handle the sight. It was like flying too close to a particularly large star and then foolishly glancing out the window, only to have the image burned into your retina for the rest of the day. It didn't even make any sense, for darkness couldn't shine; then again, it wasn't so much a glare as it was negative space, a hole cut where an aura should be. Kareem's eyes flew open in awe, a hint of a smile blossoming on his lips.

"You could always start a career as a spokeswoman, you know, if the whole galactic domination thing ever starts to bore you," he offered finally, more than willing to lighten the heavy mood that had settled between them.  He chuckled at himself and shook his head, adding "My Lady, you could convince a man to sell you his soul and he'd still walk away smiling."

Not afraid? she thought, taken aback, although her body language or her words did not show it. How is it that you are not afraid, when I can *taste* the fear pulsating from you? And yet, you are not lying; you truly believe you are not afraid... This particular inconsistency in Kareem's otherwise predictably unpredictable mind had puzzled her so much, she only partially listened to what he had said about the sorry fate of some psychiatrist she could have cared less of. And then, finally, it dawned onto her: Oh Ragnos, you old fox! I should have known.
She kept the revelation secret for a couple more moments, focussing instead on what her apprentice had to say, although she kept the knowledge of her recent revelation in her thoughts, reminding her not to trust her senses as she normally could. The distinction between being her tool or her hand that the man had made amused her, for she saw almost no difference, and what little there was, she perceived as merely a different choice of words. Of course, in his mind, the difference must have been substantial to insist on it so and potentially risk her wrath. Then again, he had chosen the perfect time to press the issue, as the satisfaction over the fate of the Jedi intruders still affected her mood, making her less snappy as she might have been on one of her bad days.
"If that distinction means so much to you, then so be it. I do not see a problem in leaving you a few more liberties, as long as I get what I want," she told him. "But we should depart. We are not alone in this tomb and while the spirit of Marka Ragnos may sleep until the terms of the prophecy dictating his return are met, he still dreams, and his powers are only mildly diminished in his sleep. There are many powers on Korriban, some of which are nigh my equal in strength, and against some I have not yet been tested. Nor do I wish to, at this particular moment." She rose to her feet and extended a hand as if to help him rise, though neither of them would have assumed the man needing it.
"The fear I had believed I sensed in you was likely a fabrication of his, unless you had perfected your deceptive abilities to the extent of being able to fool me of your sincerity. Trust nothing you feel, and do not rely too heavily on your senses. A sleeping ghost of a Lord of the Sith is a subtle beast, twisting your perceptions and your thoughts in ways you would not have anticipated. But they can be averted, which I imagine shouldn't be too much of a problem for you," she instructed. The method she herself employed in such cases was to cement her knowledge of herself in what she knew; to question the origin of her thoughts, but never herself, who she was, or what she wanted. A man of Kareem's confidence would have had no problem; unless of course there were doubts he held deep within himself, which would be made to resurface with the likelyhood increasing with each moment more they spent within Ragnos' tomb. Then again, there might always be another solution to the problem that Pride herself had not considered, short of combatting the spirit head-on, simply because she found a method that worked for her.
Continuing with the lighthearted tone her companion initiated, and to an extent to help him relax in order to be better equipped for the mental battle he was likely to be forced into, she responded in kind while they began to make their way out of the central chamber;
"Perhaps I should reconsider my choice of career then." She smiled, then added; "Seeing as I'm rather successful with my speeches, perhaps I should have waited with the whole empire business and instead infiltrated the Republic in order to transform it from within. I might have even been High Chancellor eventually. By the time I had managed that, reorganising the Republic into an autocracy would likely have gone unopposed by most. Not counting the Jedi, of course. They've always been so self-righteous with their vaulted democracy and narrowly rigid definition of freedom."
Continuing in silence, a single sentence she had heard not long ago shot through her thoughts: I don't see the appeal of an eternity of taking out the galaxy's trash. What if he was right? What if that is what galactic domination truly was, once there were no more battles to be fought? What if all of her ambitions were the foolish fabrications of someone who was desperate to stop herself from ever aging? Beauty was, after all, one of her most powerful assets, and coupled with her wit and charisma, it enabled her to make her enemies see the universe through her own eyes, instead of closing theirs forever. Losing that, she would have to rely on sheer power - which, while considerable, would inevitably lead to depleting her forces instead of strengthening them.
And death? What if her desire for immortality stemmed from the knowledge that her demise was imminent and silently, secretly creeping ever closer? What if, deep within the pits of her subconsciousness, her aspirations derived from the most primal fear of all mortal life?
ENOUGH!
She refused to ponder the matter further. The fact that Ragnos' influence had managed to divert her thoughts so far was an accomplishment that in itself gave the ancient Sith Lord credit; but more than that, he would have to summon his full consciousness and presence to face her. Gathering the full strength of her will, she was adamant not to relent a single inch of the imaginary battlefield. If ever there was a time for doubts, it was only in the safety of her meditation chamber, most certainly not in the bowels of the resting place of one of the most powerful Sith that had ever existed. She was, after all, the self-appointed heir to the legacy of the Sith: any who would challenge her were welcome to try - and perish in the attempt.

Kareem finally relented and let a smile break the impenetrable mask he had placed upon his face, eyeing the Lady of the Sith that sat at the edge of his vision. Her back was ramrod straight, her expression as fathomless as the spirit which permeated the very air around them. His eyebrows quirked at her words, more surprised with her willingly admitted weakness rather than the fact itself. He quickly schooled his face, but he was almost sure that the smirk hadn't escaped her ever watchful eyes; after all, a Sith could remain in power only for as long as they remained aware and vigilant. In any other era, a single moment of mercy would be enough to land you in the dirt with a slit throat or a gaping hole in your chest. But Darth Pride had ushered in an age of different principles, smart enough to learn from methods that had worked for other great empires of the past.

He took the proffered hand, but instead of rising to his feet the man bowed his head and pressed his lips to the smooth material of her glove, lingering just a little too long for the gesture to remain appropriate. Kareem flashed a grin that belied the tension sitting in every coil of his muscles; her warning rang clear in his ears even as he rose to his full height, glancing around with barely veiled uncertainty. Battles in the Force were his one glaring weakness, despite the months of rigorous training and an unforgiving regimen. While adapting to a new weapon didn't pose much of a challenge to the man – confrontations of the physical sort, after all, were the currency of his world – dealing with his newfound power proved to be on a different level altogether.

The Sith trod carefully behind Darth Pride, wary of anything and everything that would disturb the Force even in the slightest. Under different circumstances the ever-enchanting curves of the woman walking in front of him would have distracted him for sure; then again, Kareem wouldn't have survived this long if he didn't know when to listen to his self-preservation instincts. So he trailed behind the Empress, almost like a hurt little puppy, knowing he was ill-prepared to face anything that the woman had described as 'nigh equal to her'.

Somehow, whether by chance or fortune, they made it out of the tomb without any major incident. If the spirit of Ragnos had borne on Pride in any way, she didn't show it, and Kareem had no intention to ask about it; something else had captured his interest while they were talking.

"Speaking of infiltrating the Republic…" he started, taking a few long strides to catch up to her.

"I have been thinking about the skirmishes we continue to wage throughout the Galaxy. In all honesty, there's not much advantage to me if you throw me around these battlefields. Might as well be another soldier," once he was sure he had her attention, Kareem continued. "I'm an agent. I work best alone, not in a group of people. I'm just spent resources if I keep going from one grand-scale fight to the next. If you were to put me on a solo mission, however," his voice turned honeyed at the end while he observed the arkanian's facial expression for any sort of indication that was digging himself a shallow grave.

"As far as anybody knows, the only ally I have is me, and the nature of my profession is such that nobody will be surprised that I was gone for months. Or that my aura is as black as the Stygian caldera, for that matter," another smile curled the corners of his lips. "All in all, a perfect cover. And considering how things are going for the Republic I bet they're practically begging for new scouts to enlist," Kareem winked at his lady, far too proud of the plan to suppress his winning grin.

[[ ughhh. sori ker je tolko časa trajalo. xD saj veš. faks. -.- glede na to kolko počasi se premikamo se mi je zdelo boljše da malo pohitim stvari naprej. kulj? ]]

The Dark Lady of the Sith kept her pace, but listened intently on her apprentice's idea, though she did not turn her head to indicate thus, and the direction her eyes were facing was, as usually, impossible to discern.
"I am well aware of your capabilities, and your penchant for independence," she commented when the bounty hunter made a point of preferring to work alone. She let him finish before she replied:
"Be that as it may, you should know me well enough by now to know that I do nothing without good reason. The Sith teachings are fundamentally grounded on the ebb and flow of life and death, conflict and strength, of taking the lives of others and of dominating those you can sway. As much as I have changed, and for the most part improved, the original creed, the Sith Code and the fundamental doctrine stay the same. And as much of an unorthodox Sith you and I may be, it is this
heart of the teachings that we should be attuned to." She looked at him and added;
"I know of most if not all of your accomplishments, and while you have participated in battlefields before, you preferred to used a blaster most of the time - while I approve of downing the enemy from a safe distance, I wanted you to savour the sheer sense of power a Sith feels when we massacre an entire platoon from up close, feeding on the despair in their eyes when they realise that every shot they take at us means one more of their allies falls after said shot is deflected."
Her smile hinted at the pleasure she drew from the image her words had just invoked. There was a reason why trained Force-sensitives used lightsabres instead of vibroblades, after all.

"You are correct, however," she added when they began to ascend the final staircase before the mausoleum's antechamber.
"Your talents are, for the most part, wasted by standing with our soldiers from start to the end of a battle. Instead, I have something far more devious in plan for you; a scheme you will find both challenging and enjoyable, I think."
She gave him a wry smile and let her words sink in, giving him the time to come up with a couple of guesses of his own, before she dispelled the many possibilities by continuing;
"I need Felucia. If you've heard anything at all about it, you're probably familiar with the fact that we're talking about an entire planet of jungle nightmare. Normally, I would ignore the planet and the primitives that dwell there, but not counting the fact that I've had a bad feeling about something in that sector during my meditations for quite a while now, Felucia is also of significant strategic importance, not only because of where it lies, but also because it would be incredibly expensive and time-consuming to hunt down every enemy in those rainforests, while not doing so would leave us open for an ambush."
She had already guessed one or two of the things her apprentice was likely to suggest, so she added:
"I have already thought of blockading the sector, but according to my sources, the enemy had already gotten there first. I will not risk my dreadnoughts when there is a chance of ground-to-space artillery being present on the surface. Instead, I will have my spies arrange for you to have the proper credentials of a mercenary already hired to assist the Republic forces on Felucia. That should suffice for you not to have any difficulties making contact with the enemy, but after that, I will leave it up to you to choose your own methods and use whatever resources and opportunities may present yourself, as long as you fulfil the goal: I want Felucia free of any resistance when I send my troops to establish a base of operations. The best scenario would be if the Reps were dead to the last man with their superiors off-world never finding out how or why. Better still would be for them to believe they still have control of the sector even after all of their forces were taken care of."
They had reached the antechamber by then, and the self-acclaimed Empress of the Sith stopped to look at her apprentice.
"Does this assignment more suit your unique talents? And more importantly, do you believe yourself up to the task alone, or would you rather have an accomplice?"

((poslužujem se istega izgovora kot ti ))

Kareem mirrored the Empress' smile, but kept silent throughout her monologue despite his mounting need to speak. The past months of rigorous training may have been rigorously focused on his mental and physical prowess as a Sith acolyte, but there was no shortage of other lessons. Living among Darth Pride's followers had taught him many useful skills, and showed him that acting on knee-jerk responses wasn't always the best course of action. The former bounty hunter had always been a creature of instinct – or, as his current company liked to call it, the Force – and for the longest time it had remained the only way he knew how to exist. While the tall tales of intergalactic dive bars described the Sith as a bellicose, impatient order that above all sought to dominate, the people Kareem had joined were far removed from that crude definition. It may have held a grain of truth, once – as all stories are wont to – but these new Sith could be compared to the old as much as a piece of rough rock could be compared to a hewn diamond.

Thus it was to his great surprise that he came to learn patience and a certain degree of self-control outside of the hunt. Waiting for hours, days, even, had never been a problem for the man, so long as he had a clear goal ahead of him; usually a person, sometimes a group of people. Restraining himself without a target to keep him in check, though, was a completely different story.

His grin widened at the thought, and as if the Dark Lady had been reading his mind, the woman spoke again, this time with more seriousness to her voice. Kareem perked up at the mention of a mission, the beast in his chest still alive from the scent of Jedi blood they had shed mere hours ago. At the mention of Felucia, his face fell a little.

First Dxun, then Yavin IV, now Felucia? the man growled low in his throat, then caught himself mid-thought. Well, Yavin is actually your own fault, he corrected and puffed out an angry breath. He dismissed the annoyance and listened intently until Pride made a pause long enough for him to get a word in edgewise.

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't have a few follow-up questions, my lady," he opened with a small smile, his eyes alight with mirth. "Firstly, how strong is the enemy's presence on Felucia? A few scattered forward camps, or should I prepare for established infrastructure and the like?" Kareem was well aware that Darth Pride might not know all the details, but it was always better to ask than to remain ignorant.

At her final question, the human glanced away and to the Valley of the Sith Lords, where the rest of their unit was standing about. Some were cleaning up the mess they'd made of the Jedi and the Republic infiltrators, but most of them were engaged in casual conversation or simply relaxing after the fight. In any case, the hunter's keen eyes were interested in only one of the contingent; the deadly, yet seemingly innocuous Tw'lek that was sitting on one of the collapsed pillars, a few paces away from the others. His lips curled into a cruel smirk at the idea, and quickly the silver of his eyes found the white of Pride's.

"Two's a company, right?" he chuckled and winked shamelessly. "Due to the nature of Felucia itself and, more importantly, the nature of bored soldiers in remote outposts, I feel the mission will be executed with greater efficiency and success if Azaria Raye were to join me. The combination of our… unique talents is sure to blow away any opposition we might face."

"After all, a satisfied man is an unguarded man, and an unguarded man… is a dead man," Kareem finished with a cruel grin.

She let him finish before replying, and though his last suggestion elicited an emotional response from her, she did not show it; her feelings were hidden behind a matter-of-factly veneer of calm.
"I am unsure of their number or skills, but based on what we do know, there can't be more than a couple of camps or outposts, likely not manned by more than 20 or 30 each," she replied candidly.
"What we do know, however," she added, "is that whatever equipment they may have with them is either small enough not to be picked up by low-orbit scans, or cloaked effectively enough to fool our protocols. The latter option is precisely the case why I loath to take them by force and numbers alone."
She fell silent, an idea dawning on her, which she instantly shared with her promising apprentice:
"In fact, I'm adding another parameter to your assignment: ascertain what kind of technology they are using, and if there indeed is anything capable of neutralising our stealth-bypassing protocols, I want you to bring back an operational piece from which our technicians will be able to discern how it works and how to bypass it."
She shook her head and her shoulders, then added: "Then again, chances are that there won't be anything and I'm just being paranoid, in which case you won't have to worry your naughty little head about it... but better sure than sorry, I always say."
Only after a moment of silence did she recall she had not yet answered Kareem's request.
"As for miss Raye," she began, "you are free to take her with you, provided she shares your opinion on the compatibility of your unique talents, as you say. She is under no obligation from me to do so, however, and if she chooses not to accompany you, that's your problem. But regardless of the outcome..."
At this point her voice turned much sharper than it usually was, and her face came closer to that of her apprentice and casual lover.
"Do not think I have not noticed what kinds of feelings occupy your mind when you think of her. I am not a very jealous woman and I will not prohibit the two of you from having fun with each other if you so choose... but do not forget that you belong to me first, and only then to whomever else you please, both of you."
She took a moment to get back in control of her tone, then added:
"We are finished here. Leave me and go. Do whatever you wish, but be ready to depart on time. Any additional information regarding Felucia will be made available to you through my intelligence network back on Ziost."
After that, it was a simple matter for the Dark Lady of the Sith to turn and walk off in a rather nonchalant manner, trusting that her apprentice was smart enough not to disturb her when she was in such a mood as now.