Deception (RP for Phinea)
Nov. 13th, 2015 07:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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faithofthefallenIt was a few days after talking to Phinea that Darth Exedo's Fury-class Imperial Interceptor, recently renamed Tyth's Fury, settled onto its landing pad outside the Nar Shaddaa headquarters of Research Group Samekh. The former casino, hovering above Nar Shaddaa, was safely away from the worst of the territorial disputes below. Shipping crates and boxes still littered the lower floor and landing bay of the old casino, as the laboratory staff continued to unpack. Setekh could never afford one of the floating former palaces, but the Sith that came back from Zakuul several weeks ago had been slowly recovering all of Arannek's hidden wealth. Brand new Zakuulian computer stations gleamed in the harsh laboratory light as droids ferried crates to and fro and laboratory staff scrambled to get patients set up in the new medical bay. Subjects were present in all but two of the kolto tanks.
Darth Exedo looked on impassively, Nuro'tarkona on his heels. The impassive mask crafted to look like a technological bone mask gave nothing of Darth Exedo's mood away, and Nuro'tarkona had long since given up trying to guess at it. The Sith that came back from imprisonment on Zakuul was not the same Sith he'd known before. There was a new darkness to him, a great deal more patience, but a seething well of malice and evil that Setekh never had. His connection to the dark side was stronger than Setekh's had ever been, and something else was with him, something foreign but even more powerful...Nuro'tarkona wasn't sure what it was, but he was sure that he no longer wanted to cross his master. Given a choice, he'd prefer not to be on the same planet as his master. The few times he'd seen Setekh's familiar face instead of one of a dozen different masks he wore did nothing to ease Nuro'tarkona's suspicion that it was no longer Setekh Feraan that he served.
"I suppose we ought to travel to the surface to meet your Jedi, apprentice." It had been a point of contention between them, Nuro'tarkona's concern for the Jedi. Darth Exedo wanted to know why he cared so much for the enemy and Nuro'tarkona had refused to answer, even when subjected to pain. But the Sith that Nuro'tarkona served now was more patient that Setekh ever was, and instead of torturing the Twi'lek until he died or talked, he relented. At least at first. Nuro'tarkona had a bad feeling about this meeting, but he dared not even send a warning to Phinea. Darth Exedo would know. He always did. Darth Exedo looked over at the cyborg Zabrak unpacking crates of biochemical supplies. "Be sure the droids link the new computers to my terminal in my lab and then get started on unpacking and assembling the living spaces here. I'd like not to spend another night in rented accommodations or on board the ship. I get enough of that among the Alliance. Don't allow the 2V unit anywhere near the living spaces until its memory has been wiped. It's been acting suspiciously lately."
The Zabrak bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."
Darth Exedo motioned to Nuro'tarkona and they moved through the labs to the speeder pad above. Both chose light, sleek models for the short speeder trip to the Promenade below them and it wasn't long before they left those speeders in the care of the droid manning the speeder platform. Darth Exedo didn't head towards the cantina, but instead towards the opposite end of the Promenade, towards where the Republic representatives usually congregated. Nuro'tarkona stayed close but behind him, far enough back that when he wanted to talk, Darth Exedo had to stop and turn to see him. "Apprentice, you've been quiet. Is there something on your mind?"
The words were innocuous. Even the tone was neutral, but Nuro'tarkona's pale green skin paled even more. He shook his head. "No, my lord. Just wondering if she'll show up."
"You still haven't told me why you're so concerned for a Jedi. Even with Zakuul's forces hanging over us all," literally, in the case of Nar Shaddaa, where a hulking battle station could just barely be seen through the moon's pollution-tinged atmosphere, "that is highly out of character for you."
Nuro'tarkona shook his head, refusing to speak, and Darth Exedo sighed. He clenched his hand, and Nuro'tarkona could feel a pressure on his throat. Not enough to choke, not yet, but enough to remind him that his master was not pleased with him. The Twi'lek's skin paled even more and his lekku twitched as he tried to maintain a stance as impassive as his master's and failed. That had never been Setekh's choice of punishment. Lightning, perhaps, but not choking. Nuro'tarkona looked around them, anywhere but at the Sith that pretended to be his master and was too powerful to call out on it.
Darth Exedo looked on impassively, Nuro'tarkona on his heels. The impassive mask crafted to look like a technological bone mask gave nothing of Darth Exedo's mood away, and Nuro'tarkona had long since given up trying to guess at it. The Sith that came back from imprisonment on Zakuul was not the same Sith he'd known before. There was a new darkness to him, a great deal more patience, but a seething well of malice and evil that Setekh never had. His connection to the dark side was stronger than Setekh's had ever been, and something else was with him, something foreign but even more powerful...Nuro'tarkona wasn't sure what it was, but he was sure that he no longer wanted to cross his master. Given a choice, he'd prefer not to be on the same planet as his master. The few times he'd seen Setekh's familiar face instead of one of a dozen different masks he wore did nothing to ease Nuro'tarkona's suspicion that it was no longer Setekh Feraan that he served.
"I suppose we ought to travel to the surface to meet your Jedi, apprentice." It had been a point of contention between them, Nuro'tarkona's concern for the Jedi. Darth Exedo wanted to know why he cared so much for the enemy and Nuro'tarkona had refused to answer, even when subjected to pain. But the Sith that Nuro'tarkona served now was more patient that Setekh ever was, and instead of torturing the Twi'lek until he died or talked, he relented. At least at first. Nuro'tarkona had a bad feeling about this meeting, but he dared not even send a warning to Phinea. Darth Exedo would know. He always did. Darth Exedo looked over at the cyborg Zabrak unpacking crates of biochemical supplies. "Be sure the droids link the new computers to my terminal in my lab and then get started on unpacking and assembling the living spaces here. I'd like not to spend another night in rented accommodations or on board the ship. I get enough of that among the Alliance. Don't allow the 2V unit anywhere near the living spaces until its memory has been wiped. It's been acting suspiciously lately."
The Zabrak bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."
Darth Exedo motioned to Nuro'tarkona and they moved through the labs to the speeder pad above. Both chose light, sleek models for the short speeder trip to the Promenade below them and it wasn't long before they left those speeders in the care of the droid manning the speeder platform. Darth Exedo didn't head towards the cantina, but instead towards the opposite end of the Promenade, towards where the Republic representatives usually congregated. Nuro'tarkona stayed close but behind him, far enough back that when he wanted to talk, Darth Exedo had to stop and turn to see him. "Apprentice, you've been quiet. Is there something on your mind?"
The words were innocuous. Even the tone was neutral, but Nuro'tarkona's pale green skin paled even more. He shook his head. "No, my lord. Just wondering if she'll show up."
"You still haven't told me why you're so concerned for a Jedi. Even with Zakuul's forces hanging over us all," literally, in the case of Nar Shaddaa, where a hulking battle station could just barely be seen through the moon's pollution-tinged atmosphere, "that is highly out of character for you."
Nuro'tarkona shook his head, refusing to speak, and Darth Exedo sighed. He clenched his hand, and Nuro'tarkona could feel a pressure on his throat. Not enough to choke, not yet, but enough to remind him that his master was not pleased with him. The Twi'lek's skin paled even more and his lekku twitched as he tried to maintain a stance as impassive as his master's and failed. That had never been Setekh's choice of punishment. Lightning, perhaps, but not choking. Nuro'tarkona looked around them, anywhere but at the Sith that pretended to be his master and was too powerful to call out on it.
