Song: "The Emperor" from Return of the Jedi OST
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Ronderu walked up the stairs after she and Arna had departed for dinner, her arms crossed over her bosom to hide the misshapen lumps from the com-link and drive. Faintness touched her as her respirator struggled to keep up with her quick pace.
The count exited a room below her to join Arna, his white hair flashing in the light of the chandeliers. Good luck, Jedi.
After she had recovered, she reached a pair of humble wooden doors which seemed unassuming amidst the grandeur of the rest of the keep. Yet Ronderu was no fool; whatever lay beyond that door was dangerous.
She tried the door. Locked. What did she have around her? Her hair was down and unadorned with anything useful; all she had on her clothes were a few metal pins that kept her bodice from splitting down the middle. Her feet were bare, and she wore no jewelry.
She sighed. One must be modest; one must be wise. She leaned down. Her hands worked to tear off a fold of the thin satin that made up her train. She braided it into several strips. Pulling off her glove, she made two slits in the center of her bodice, then tied the braid through the holes. It may not comply to Kaleesh standards of modesty, but it was better than going topless altogether.
She unbuttoned the metal pins that held her bodice together, slipped them out from the fabric, all the while catching a glimpse of the ugly violet mark that ran along her breastbone. She twisted the pins together into one long point that she could hold like a pencil, pulled her overcoat tighter around her now-lowered neckline, and went to work on the lock.
The door did not require a technical override; it was vintage, carved out of wood and resembling the door on the Kaleela lodge. Ronderu had not picked locks since before she'd met Qymaen; it had been eleven years since she'd last heard the pleasant click of the metal as it gave her access to what she wanted.
Her hands worked the pick into the lock, and she closed her eyes, imagining where all the bolts and tumblers were located. After a few moments, it clicked. She inhaled, stepped forward, and opened the door.
✺✺✺
The darkness was no match for her eyes, and the room was typical for this sort of keep: a simple marble floor, an old redwood desk, and some antiques hanging on the walls. She caught a mumuu hide, some valuables she couldn't name—perhaps from the Chiss people among the Serennese—and....
A karabbac mask, nailed to the wall, with crimson swirls crusting off of the old bone.
Now she had confirmation, at least in her own mind: Dooku was behind her two assassination attempts. Through a lackey, he must have intentionally separated Qymaen from her, and caused her to become overrun by the Yam'rii.
But why? Why go after me?
She stepped forward, used her pick to unscrew the mask, and blew the dust off her beloved veil. "My old darling," she murmured, stroking the bone with affection. "How I've missed you." She pulled off her veil and fit the mask over her face so it concealed everything but her eyes.
When the mask touched her skin, memories burned into her head. Memories of flipping and dancing around Yam'rii, crashing with tempestuous fury against their hides; the tired cheering of the kolkpravis as they brought home another victory; the wild, warlike scent of Qymaen's clothes as they held one another.
She shuddered and allowed herself to sink down against the wall for a time, lost in memory. The smell of sweat and the thick, powerful influence of pheromones still rested within the crevices of the bone.
Closing her eyes, she thought back to the endless singing of the bard-soldiers in the kolkpravis as they trekked far from home. The flag of Kalee snapped in her mind with the delicate tang of her soaps from back home, still fresh in the mask.
Qymaen would take off her mask the next time she would forsake it.
✺✺✺
After a while, she walked up to the desk. The flat screen inlaid to the wooden desk was not password-protected. A strange notion, but someone like Dooku probably didn't get many visitors in this lonely keep.
Many scrambled Basic codes blazed in her vision, most of which either were mixed piles of gibberish or used such advanced language that they were impossible for her to decrypt. If she chose the wrong one, would Dooku know?
No, she told herself. He's not expecting people to barge in.
She chose the first one, the most recent—accessed the same day that she'd entered this room. Abruptly, an audio message came through.
Dooku: "You have neglected your responsibilities, my dear."
A woman's voice, speaking with a heavy Kaleesh accent: "I have done no such thing." (The sound of her voice was muffled, and it was impossible to tell who the speaker was; Ronderu could only deduce the gender.) "I am a mother now, just as you promised me."
Dooku: "You have not succeeded in the elimination of Kummar."
The woman: "Nonsense. There are nothing but silly rumors about her being alive or reincarnated. But Khetsuu's worked himself into a frenzy over it."
Dooku: "How did he stumble upon this information?"
The woman: "One of my sister-wives. She came home on the wildest day, claimed that Kummar had swooped in and rescued her from cannibals."
Dooku: "I have honored my end of the commitment. I regret to say differently for you."
The woman: (Her voice shook.) "He is lonely, and almost completely off the edge. Yet I will honor my end of the deal we made. Do you know where Kummar is?"
Dooku: "She is on Mandalore."
The woman: "But I cannot leave Kalee, and Khetsuu will need concrete proof that she is dead before he believes it."
Dooku: "He appears convinced to me. My concern is with eliminating her as a threat before she finds him and tampers with him further. He is perfect for my plan as he is now."
The woman: "This will not involve harming him, will it?"
Dooku: "He will live and be strong. Isn't that what I promised you?" (But it was so obviously a lie that the woman must have a very empty head.)
The woman: "Of course. But why not kill her yourself?"
Dooku: "That would end our agreement, my dear. I doubt you want that."
(A sigh.) The woman: "Very well. Why has she not returned to Kalee yet?"
Dooku: "She was allowed temporary stay—some sort of health issue from surviving Jenuwaa."
The woman: "And when will she return? I have a busy life. Surely you know that."
Dooku: "I am aware, my dear. She will return in six months at the latest."
The woman: "I may not live that long. I'm starting to starve and waste away because of Khetsuu's pride."
Dooku: "Not to worry. Soon you and your children will be well-fed."
The woman: "Must I do more for you?" (Her voice was ragged.) "Living with the guilt of murder is enough to bear."
Dooku: "Consider my assistance an additional benefit, young one."
✺✺✺
Ronderu switched off the monitor and hunkered down in the chair. She ran her hands through her hair, closed her eyes, and relayed the information she'd just learned to herself.
Dooku is planning a war. And he wants me and Qymaen out of the way for it.
Who could the traitor be? The temple had closed in on the Kaleesh at Jenuwaa, separating them, and only someone's hand could trigger those traps. It was a perfect way to disguise a murder.
But who could be so jealous she would do such a thing? And how in the galaxy did Qymaen put up with it after it had happened?
If it was staged as an accident....
But how would a Kaleesh citizen conspire with Dooku?
Perhaps someone led me away from Qymaen on purpose. A woman on the battlefield who survived.
But try as she might, she could not recall a single woman who could have lured her away from Qymaen. The memory of the battle fizzed grayly in her mind, but she only recalled being cornered before she fell underwater.
She sighed and clenched her fists. A mystery, to be sure, but she and Arna would uncover it later. Her first order of business was to download this conversation. Shakily pulling out the drive from her bodice, she pressed it into one of the ports on the desk.
She clicked away from the conversation file, wondering vaguely why he recorded his calls. The rationale she herself would have for doing so was recalling any slips of the tongue her clients had. It would be the perfect material to use against them if convenient.
Another file caught her eye. She opened it, her mouth pressing in on itself so her sharp teeth cut against the interior. Blood left a bitter tang in her mouth as she viewed it.
Ronderu was barely in adulthood, and she grew up relatively ignorant of galactic war machines, but even she had heard of the ancient Krath war droids used during the period of the Old Republic. Their four-limbed, 360-degree physique made attacking them extremely difficult and costly for anyone who did not wield a lightsaber.
This creature, while not exactly Krath-like, bore much resemblance to one of these ancient metal beasts. The only notable differences, from what she could see, were the heights, materials, and the face of this new terror. The droid plans appeared only to be missing an AI and a fuel tank, neither of which would be difficult to supply.
Duranium was plated across the whole body, with two cruelly-taloned hands and enormous clawed feet. The plans listed it to be two meters in height. And as she turned her eyes upon the face....
Her eyes crushed themselves shut as she tried to get the image of that horrid mask out of her head. She pressed the Download button. Surely it couldn't be a leader—commanding a whole army was a job for sentient minds, and droids only used algorithms in their thinking patterns, not heuristics.
But certain droids were excellent assassins. If Dooku was planning an assault on Khagan Khetsuu, the creature before her was the perfect one to carry it out. Her hands trembled at the idea of her sweet Qymaen, pinned cold and helpless amidst the droid's talons, as he wondered why she had to perish and leave him alone....
What is something that the Kaleesh have that the Separatists would want?
Her eyes widened. Warriors. A whole race of warriors who will serve a strong leader.
A tear rolled down her cheek against her will. I'm coming, Qymaen. I'm coming back to save you and love you.
A tremor caressed her spine. She stood. There's someone in this room.
She pulled out her com-link and spoke quickly. "Arna. I've been found out." But fuzz droned from the other side.
"That won't be necessary," a deep, accented voice intoned from the left side of the room.
✺✺✺
Her eyes narrowed, and she bit back a curse. "Greetings, Count."
"I presume you and your accomplice attempt to steal from me," he said calmly. "Relinquish the drive, and your life will be spared."
She ripped the hard-drive out, unsure if the droid's plans had been downloaded or not. "That's a lie," she growled, tucking it into her bodice and dropping the com. She sent out a thought message with all the force she could muster. Arna! I've been found out! "I saw everything, including the part where you convinced one of my friends to betray me."
Her hands went to the mottled white cylinders tucked beneath her jacket, and she pulled them out, igniting them. The light blinded her momentarily, and she adopted her warrior's tone. "You should have thought long and hard before you tried to kill me. I'll be a corpse in hell before you lay a hand on him."
"More deceptions," Dooku said, and took out a curved hilt from his belt. "Both of us know you would snap like a mere branch if you lost him. Unfortunately, Sheelal is in the way as of now. But that will not be the case for much longer."
He activated the blade. Sweat dripped from her neck down her bare back. Remember your training.
Dooku's a former Jedi Master. It won't matter.
Her blades blocked his first strike in a perfect cross. The force pushed her arms back into strange angles, and a cry escaped her lips. She pulled an offensive strike. Red blocked her, bringing her cybernetic hand to the ground. The stench of sabers against marble choked her nostrils.
She was weak, a complete failure next to Dooku. She could not fight with her cybernetics; she wheezed as her regulator fought desperately to relieve her of exertion. Her best bet was not to fight anymore.
It was to run.
◈◈◈
Did you know....
● Count Dooku died at the age of eighty-three.
● He's also one of my favorite characters in Star Wars to read about. In the books, he's a lot more interesting than he is on screen. Sort of like Grievous, actually.
Tell me what you think....
● Can Ronderu reach Qymaen before Dooku does?
● Who do you think is communicating with Dooku? Remember that this call was made before Khetsuu's wives died.