To find Gardrough on the holomap you’d need to squint hard and at least zoom in ten times. A tiny, messy Ord Mantellian mining town close to the city of Freelonn. Most local prospectors left it for what it was due to the constant threat of Black Sun raiders. The old, mostly wooden inn still boasted some remarkable relics of the past, some flimsy Republican arms hanging above the bar, native fetishes adorning the doorposts, and even some Imperial Stormtrooper helmets on the cupboards.
At the entrance a posh, male Pantoran stood guard, seemingly wary of anyone touching the native heirlooms. A mean-faced Trandoshan kept cleaning his rifle more than the glasses behind the bar. Several scrawny Rodians babbled and drank away their worries at one of the tables. Finally, a tall, scruffy, silver-haired Kessurian was checking out the prospecting board, holding his chin, not off-put by some younger Falleen prospectors scoffing at the advertisement.
Inside, the tavern was dark, creaky, and damp. Only a few orange lights lit the fairly spacious room, enough to have a clear line of sight from the entrance.
Malfearak produced a datapad from inside his coat and tapped some notes into it. Satisfied he’d gotten the important stuff, he stashed it back inside before making room for the Falleens.
“Good luck, kids,” he said, flashing them a knowing smile before heading for the barkeep. The Trandoshan’s eyes flicked up to him for only a split-second before returning to his gun.
“What’ll it be, stranger?” the reptilian hissed.
“My speeder could use a new power coupling. The old one is sh—” he began.
“Want a drink or not?” The Trando cut him off. Somehow, his question sounded like a threat.
“Uh, yeah, Jorgan Ale,” Malfearak answered, flashing a credit chip his way.
The Trandoshan tossed the gun onto the counter, grabbed a mug and a bottle of non-descript green slime. He filled the cup and slid it over to Malfearak. “That’s what you’re drinking, or get out.”
Malfearak shrugged as he took the drink. “Good enough, now about that power coupling?”
“Go bother someone else, guy. Can’t help you.” And that was the end of his discussion with the Trandoshan.
Malfearak took a swig of his drink. The liquid, if it could be called that, was thick, bordering on gelatinous, and warm and it slid down his throat like a Wookie trying to fit inside a vent. He swallowed hard and set the half-finished drink down on a random table. The Rodian sitting at it protested but he waved it off.
He held a stack of credits up between two-fingers as he spoke up. “I need a new power coupling, any of you fine folks have one for me?”
Heavy-heeled boots pounded on the hardwood floor like battering rams. The tattooed guard at the entrance followed the sound with his golden eyes, pointing towards it with the tip of his powered-up spear.
A cerulean glow lit up a pale face, flanked by straight, raven hair as Alaisy bent her head down to fit through the doorpost, freezing as she noticed the buzzing point of the weapon.
Her eyebrows sunk and formed almost flat lines, contrasting with her chilling electric-blue eyes. “Do you always greet guests like this?” A clawed hand gripped the spear underneath the sharp end and pulled it down.
The Pantoran’s pastel-colored brows drew together and his eyes bulged as the tall woman overpowered him.
He dropped his spear altogether and held up his hands at her. “I-I, I’m sorry madame. Just on edge, that’s all.”
The full size of her body came into view as she stepped through, orange light reflecting from her gleaming black. She let her talons drag over the native fetishes as the Pantoran bent down to pick up his spear.
The spectacle at the door did not go unnoticed. In fact, everything else had ceased to exist as every single eye in the tavern turned to the woman. Every person in the place wore the same expression of awe and terror on their face. He didn’t have to look at them to know, he could sense them in the Force, that collective urge to leave. Now. For his part, he was too curious to be terrified. The maelstrom of darkness that emanated from the newcomer in the Force was intoxicating in its own way. He was familiar with the woman’s name, Alaisy. It so happened a woman of her… stature stood out amongst the throngs of the Brotherhood.
He was unsure how to react, but one thing was certain, he would have to forget about the power coupling for the time being.
He didn’t realize it as the thoughts rushed through his head, but he was standing as still and as dumbstruck as any of the other pitiable fools in the bar.
This was supposed to be the place to find someone brave enough to venture into the ruins of Jedi and Sith. The smell of fear was distinct, a mix of acrid and metallic flavors.
Alaisy’s long tail twitched before it raised itself up like a flag. Her sharply lined eyes darted from side to side, scanning for her next target. She bit her full lip with a long canine as she locked onto the Trandoshan, disarming him with her predator-like gaze as he finally started cleaning the dirty glasses.
The nostrils of the woman’s button-like nose widened as she noticed something different about the Kessurian. She gazed at him, but he did not look away. This one had a different aura about him. She picked up a glint of curiosity in his argent eyes. His mouth had a friendliness about it.
Her voice had an aristocratic lilt to it, dark and deep. “Do I know you?” She lowered her clawed hand onto the long, spiny lightsaber hilt on her hip and tapped it with a vibronail. Her stance relaxed and her tail lowered, swinging smoothly.
“I would not expect you to know me,” he explained, speaking in a slow composed manner. He stepped aside, retrieving his half-drunk cup of slime. He sure felt parched all of a sudden. He threw it back and swallowed its contents before grimacing. Tasted just as bad the second time.
He looked up again, expecting the woman to have moved on about her business. He found her intense blue gaze baring down on him still.
“We do share the same masters, mistress Tir’eivra. My name is Malfearak Asvraal” He offered her a courteous smile, hoping this was enough to placate her.
The Sith woman did not need the addition of a polite smile. Her eyes narrowed, a fire in them scanned Asvraal’s intentions. No one else in the room existed any longer. Her hand relaxed. She swapped from one leg to the other, letting her other hand lean on her hip. Her tail flicked as the Pantoran sidestepped away from them, his spear deactivated.
Tir'eivra’s smile formed into a sneer, punishing the extra flavor Malfearak added to his gesture. “The same masters, dear Malfearak Asvraal, not the same Clan. It matters not.” She changed her sight to the prospecting board, before returning her gaze to the Kessurian. “What matters is that you are here with a reason. No one else dares to be, with the Black Sun and all.”
“Clans are of no matter to me but you are correct. I came to this world with a goal in mind. Unfortunately, that didn’t pan out. I figured I could make the trip count if I picked up an odd job or two. Slim pickings though.”
He felt strange standing in the middle of the place conversing, so he elected to grab a seat, keeping his eyes on her as he did. He motioned for the empty seat across from him.
“I suspect you are also here for a reason. Care to sit and spill?”
The thought that she might accept his invitation seemed doubtful. Someone like Alaisy Tir'eivra had better things to do than converse with the odd wanderer she came across. If it hastened her departure, so be it.
Alaisy inclined her head at Malfearak, dropping the sneer. She was hoping he would ask her, if only to be more at a face-to-face altitude. “I must admit, I am at an impasse myself.”
She took off her backpack and unbuckled the helmet from it, placing it next to the chair, at a mostly dust-free spot. Her suit seemed to shift and tighten where it showed wrinkles and loosened where the bands of her backpack were. It was never easy to sit elegantly on a chair, but she managed to lower herself and twist her legs to the side so that the heels were almost parallel to the floor, with her ankles twisted.
This has to be the strangest date I’ve been on, Malfearak thought, the amusement leaking into a smirk. No wait, there was the one on Cato Nemoidia.
He almost regreted inviting her, if only for subjecting her to such seating arrangements. He was tall by Kessurian or Human standards and yet, he felt like an insect in her presence in more ways than one. Here he was, seated across from one of the most imposing figures in the Dark Brotherhood and he didn’t rightly now how he’d ended up here. Still, there was something highly enticing about her.
And he was curious as to why she was here.
“An impass, you say? Do tell,” he said as he motioned for two drinks at the Trandoshan, who responded with a rude gesture of his own. Then it was back to the rifle for him. Malfearak gave a dejected shrug. “So much for that famous Ord Mantell hospitality. ”
There have been places far less accommodating to her than this hole. At least she had a good overview of the place here. The ash-pink-skinned man in front of her seemed open-minded enough to at least hear her out and his demeanor gave her the feeling that she could tell him things that she would not be able to tell others.
“I am in search of some very specific items. Imagine hiding something so well that you forget where you left it. In rather dangerous places.” Alaisy tried her best to explain her conundrum without giving too much away. She was no great storyteller. “You have the looks of one who is not afraid to take risks, is that correct?”
“My lady, it just so happens that risk taking is a part of my trade,” he mused, sounding more boastful than he intended. “And it also happens that I’m an expert at finding hidden items.”
By luck or by will of the Force, it seemed that this encounter would yield some interesting stories.
A genuine smile formed in her lips this time. “I have a feeling the benefits of any arrangement for you lie in the details.” She tapped on the red crystal just under her neck corset. “This is a memory crystal. Nothing more than a gemstone on the surface. But it is a small piece of a large puzzle.”
“Oh?” he said, leaning forward. His pointed ears seemed to perk up at the mention of memory crystals. “I don’t recognize the name. Memory crystal. Like a holocron?”
Alaisy picked out a chip from one of her belt pockets. “More personal than a holocron and much less useful to someone other than myself.” She broke the chip in two, then halved the remaining pieces, sprinkling the debris on the table. “More like a piece of a memory chip, except much easier to divide into smaller parts. And I hoped they would be longer lasting and less corruptible.”
“Interesting. You say personal… I image we’re talking sensitive personal data?” He looked at the sprinkled pieces on the table, frowning. That didn’t seem quite right. Who would go through that much trouble when an encrypted datachip could do just as nicely. There was more to this, but he had to see how much she was willing to reveal for now.
The Sith smirked at the comparison, her bright eyes showing a twinkle, much like a flame. “Let us say that when you plan to separate body and spirit by employing the Force and decide you wish to reunite them at a later stage, you would know a data chip does not quite cut it.” She steepled her hands together. “I have already done such a thing.” Her eyelid twitched, but her sapphire eyes held an expectant look. Her steepled hands downplayed her nervosity as her heart pounded in her chest.
“Ok, now that’s interesting,” he admitted. “I’ve read of such practices way back in ancient times before the Great Hyperspace War… But never modern applications of the matter. I would, huh, love to hear more on the subject.”
Her hands relaxed as she caught his interest. She wasn’t looking forward to another visit to some backwater planet. This was it and it was time to double down. Her voice had some excitement in it, adding to its pitch. “Here is my deal, and it is negotiable. You come with me for a time, and I will take care of any expenses. You share with me your knowledge and expertise and I will explain my methods and rituals.”
Secrets were a valuable commodity for Sith, especially applicable ones ripened by millennia and then proven to work. Alaisy knew this well and wasn’t about to lay everything out on the table, not that she could. Half the reason she was involving others was so she could put the puzzle pieces back together herself.
Malfearak leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his lips and suspicion in his eyes. He looked her over as he considered her words. A sinister creature indeed, and yet there was an eagerness in her, it was clear both visibly and in the Force. A genuine interest in cooperation.
His smirk grew into a toothy smile as he reached across the table, presenting a gloves hand.
“We can leave the negotiations for another time. I accept your offer. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The tall Sith stared at the gloved hand for some time before it clicked. She refrained from sighing at the last second and stretched out her arm, extending her slender palm to meet his. She realized a reluctant grip would likely be less pragmatic, so she put some strength behind the handshake.
With a batting of her long lashes, her electric-blue eyes swapped from the handshake to Malfearak’s pale eyes “Our first target is in Hutt space and I doubt you have heard of it.” This was a personal one. She ran her tongue over her lips and puckered them. “A mining planet named Tratlaum.”
“Ah yes, Tratlaym. I believe prospectors found something of note out there some years back. Wasn’t involved with the dig. Good thing too, pirates killed them all.”
Malfearak pulled to his feet, scrubbed his pants as he spoke loud enough for the Trandoshan to hear, “Now’s as good time as any to leave. Doesn’t look like we’ll be getting our drinks anytime soon!”
Alaisy gave the man a distinct frown. She just realized things were worse than she thought if her former home planet was becoming public knowledge. All the more reason to get this moving.
“I could not agree more.” She almost launched the chair away from her and pushed the drink away from her.
“Give me an hour to prep and I’ll meet you at your ship. I have to stow the speeder and program the Nomad to follow us, in case we need it. I’ll have it park in orbit around Tratlaym.”
The tall Sith passed on the coordinates via her Assassin’s datapad and gave the Kessurian a courteous bow. “I will make sure to leave a single frequency open so you can find it easily. There will be quality beverages available, unlike the garbage we were offered here.”
She gave the bartender an evil eye. He hissed but returned to cleaning glasses instead of his weapon. She bent forward, and with a thud placed her backpack on the table, twisting the valve on the twin cylinders to cycle them.
A sharp index finger pressed a button on top of the mask, opening the metal plating. Rubbery tendrils spilled out from inside as she held it up to her face, covering it like a hood. The durasteel sheets slid over the back of her head and with the help of the Force whisked her hair into a high ponytail, letting it stick out like a war plume with a spiky hair-cuff.
A trunk-like air-tube jutted out from the nose cup of the headwear, connecting with her backpack as she pulled it over her shoulders. Tir'eivra let out a relieving sigh, exhaling sharply out of the mask with a hiss. A sharp whistle fully pressurized it, readying her for a nasty atmosphere.
The Pantoran guard swallowed hard as the two left the tavern, keeping a safe distance.
With a muffled voice she called out. “Malfaerak, before you go, be ready for a particularly unpleasant atmosphere. I have lived there, I should know.” If the woman’s height didn’t make her look intimidating enough already, then the Sith headgear really drove the picture home.