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Lord Scythia had lost her Jedi. She had fondly envisioned him getting hauled before the Jedi Council in chains once she was done with him…but he had returned to the Jedi of his own accord.
She took her speeder directly to her little palace on Nar Shaddaa. From where it hovered she could see the casinos, the red light district, the neon haze of vice on the galaxy’s most vice-ridden moon. She had corrupted a decent man here. She could do it again, if the need was great.
“Dornel,” she called, tapping her holo while she settled onto her black velvet settee overlooking the clear curved viewport that served as half the room’s floor.
But Dornel did not come. Andronikos Revel did.
They hadn’t exchanged many words since his last disappearance. What was there to say to a dog who wouldn’t come to heel? She had gotten used to his closeness at night, there where no servant was allowed. He just seemed determined to be difficult the rest of the time.
He looked at her with a still expression. “Expecting someone else?”
“I need to update Dornel Nao. Barsen’thor Tebbith has returned to the fold. He won't be visiting me, or 'visiting' my faithful servant, again. I calculate he’ll try to free Dornel a dozen times before any scenario in which he directly contacts me.”
“How exactly does he mean to free Dornel? The things keeping him here, you can’t just cut or buy.”
“I know that. He doesn’t. —Why so glum? Your situation is entirely different.”
“Obviously. If you treat me like one of your acquisitions, I’m out.”
Dornel knocked diffidently, but he did walk in. Dornel Nao was a very good man to have around. He was pretty and golden on the slinky side of well-dressed, not wholly unlike Tebbith’s precious Larr Gith. The resemblance had been part of the calculation when Scythia assigned Dornel to handle Tebbith on his visits. It hadn’t been quite as fruitful as Scythia had hoped, but in the nadir of despair, even sweet Tebbith had broken down enough. Yes, Dornel Nao was a very good man to have around.
Dornel nodded cordially at Andronikos before turning to Scythia. Andronikos got casual respect from Scythia's bravest minions, and the Human seemed content with that. “You called, my lord?”
“Barsen’thor Tebbith is now in maintenance mode. He has seen the error of his ways and reformed his naughty tendencies. He may reach out to you about leaving my service. Keep me informed.”
“Should I bring him back here?”
“Oh, no, he’s back in the Jedi yoke. In a year, maybe. Or two, or five, if he doesn’t come to me sooner. I can wait.”
Andronikos snorted. “You hate waiting.”
“And you’re one of a very few people who know that,” she said. “Thank you, Dornel.”
“Shall I—”
“She won’t be needing you,” Andronikos said abruptly. “Take the day off.”
Scythia kept a tight rein on her surprise, and her displeasure at being surprised. “What’s this?”
“You don’t need him tending you, I want to show you something. Got two hours?”
“Well, apparently my pet isn’t coming today.”
“You are reassuring at the damnedest times.”
“What?”
“I’m not the ‘pet’ in this situation. C’mon. I’ll drive the Dropped Pie if you want.”
The Dropped Pie was a two-seater speeder car named for its regrettable, lumpy looks. It blocked wireless communications of all kinds and had traps hidden between its mismatched panels for anyone who thought they could stick a listening device on a Sith Lord’s personal transport. Scythia liked it, very much, reasoning that she could carry the aesthetic aspect of her operation on her own hourglass figure. Meanwhile Andronikos whined about how it handled like a sixteen-year-old meeting the entry-level clunker he can afford.
He started toward the pad and didn’t hit full stride until she was beside him. She thought about needling him over running off, but her heart wasn’t in it. He was here now, with a secretive idea, and she knew he wasn’t stupid enough to make it a trap.
They respected one another, in their ways.
Andronikos took her directly through the main thoroughfare of the red light district, then ducked into a thick, echoing conduit that wound well into the substructure. Scythia watched, looking for lines of power or supply and not getting a lot of either. Just expanses of dark gray metal, totally black outside the cones of Dropped Pie's lights.
They burst free into a huge empty cylinder lined with…oh, here were the conduits. And vertical streaks of light, nothing close to natural. And at the bottom…
A smaller cylinder set into the floor, still several speeders’ lengths wide, glowing in fluorescent white. It went down. On, and on, and on.
Andronikos had brought the Dropped Pie up to the edge of the lower cylinder. There he stopped, and looked, not at the chasm of white, but at her face.
“What is this?” she said, struggling to discern some kind of reference in the depths.
“Not really sure,” said Andronikos, “I had to get a few Evocii very drunk to even find it.” He leaned back, grinning. “I just like the look of it.”
“How deep does it go?”
“Don’t know. Should we throw someone in?”
“I didn’t bring anybody else,” Scythia sighed. “And I want you up here with me.”
“Want to drive in? See what it does with gravity?”
Scythia snorted, knowing perfectly well that she wasn’t in a ghost-induced reckless mood. “I haven’t eaten a ghost that big lately.”
“I understand why that’s good for you.” He nudged the Dropped Pie another six feet toward the sunken white cylinder.
She didn’t discipline him. He wasn’t in a dangerous mood. But the proprieties had to be observed. “Don’t you—”
“Stopping now, my lord.” He didn’t.
She laughed, because she knew he didn’t have a death wish. “Stop harder.”
He chuckled. The Dropped Pie creaked and stopped. The cylinder’s light pulsed gently, from the rim a scant meter or two away down into who knew what.
Scythia wanted to know. She wanted to own. She wanted to put it in her system and call on it when the time was right. She turned her attention instead to the man who had found it for her. “Want to blow off everything else until we get tired or hungry?”
Andronikos shrugged, staring into the light. “Sure.”
And in a way, Scythia had zero pets where she had desired three; but here and now, she had something secret and remarkable and he was laughing.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I absolutely gave Saare the Nar Shaddaa stronghold as her apartment and half of it is because it makes sense lore wise with the cult and Paladius but also because in-game I have that and I have come to picture her and her companions there. Seran-Vin has the one on Tattooine.
