The Republic has fallen.
In the final days of the Clone Wars, Chancellor Palpatine died under mysterious circumstances. With the Senate struggling to retain a sense of unity, it was the perfect time for the Separatists to strike. And strike they did...
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A loud, sharp trill ringing mere inches from his ear roused Vader from a light sleep. Grimacing at the noise, he pulled himself creakily to a sitting position in his military-issue cot and routed the call from his helmet comm to his external system. This was just one of the reasons he really hated sleeping in his suit, but he didn't have rooms specifically outfitted to serve his needs aboard the station – and he couldn't commission them without exposing the extent of his injuries. When the alternative was to risk a flareup in the middle of the night, what else was he to do?
It was just another one of his Master's – depur's, a voice hissed from that nearly forgotten corner of his mind that had been active so often of late – little cruelties, softened a touch by the marvelous defensive capabilities of the suit. But tonight even that was a sorry consolation prize; Vader had scarcely slept two hours after working with Agent Kallus for the better part of twenty.
The caller ID was a better one. "Finally," Vader muttered as he answered the call, though his suit projected the word at full volume. The Elite storm troopers from his honor guard he'd left on Onderon hadn't relayed anything out of the ordinary, and Rehin had had nothing to contribute but a slight change in troop deployment, but perhaps this call would give him something else. "Report, informant."
A hologram of Lady Noronessa Taevarion's heart-shaped face framed in its usual scarf sprang to life above his wrist, full lips quirked in a smile and one eyebrow delicately arched. "Not even a pleasant hello for me, Lord Vader?"
"What was it you called me during our first meeting?" Vader shot back. "A dull brute too slow-minded to grasp the complexities of polite society, wasn't it?"
"So I did. In that case, maybe I do deserve your contempt. I'd hate to expect more from you than your base nature permits."
Noronessa was a pain, but Vader couldn't help but admire her tenacity. She was no simpleton who thought her family's power made her untouchable. She knew exactly what she was capable of and who she was dealing with, and her fearlessness reminded Vader a little of another clever young woman he'd once fought beside.
The difference between the two was that Noronessa wasn't fighting for lofty ideals; she had something very personal and very precious to lose. Vader just hadn't figured out what yet. Until he did, he had to play a role that set her at ease, make her feel like the wires of the bomb she was toying with in antagonizing him were all securely cut. This was a long game, and it stung that a teenager could probably play it better than him. But that certainly wasn't going to stop Vader from trying.
"You're fortunate I didn't cut you down where you stood right then," he said. "I'd advise against irritating me before you've proven it's still worth it to make use of you. Now, you couldn't possibly be stupid enough to comm someone who can kill you with a thought just because you were bored, so tell me what you've found."
Noronessa grinned coldly even as he threatened her, as though pleased he'd called her bluff. "Oh, I could tell you of over a dozen intrigues that have sprung up at court since I last commed you, but I doubt you'd be interested. But Mother trained me to be meticulous, and the other day I noticed an interesting pattern."
