I entered Senator Mina Bonteri's office as Raxus's sun was already beginning to dip toward the horizon, flooding the room in thick amber light. Khem Val, as usual, stayed outside by the entrance, his very presence discouraging the senator's guards from even thinking about eavesdropping.
Inside, the air was heavy. Not from temperature—the climate control worked perfectly—but from that sticky tension that always hangs in the air when people are afraid for their lives but trying very hard not to show it. At least, that's how it felt through the Force.
The senators—Bonteri herself, the Toydarian Katthu-Nemo, and a couple of other "idealists" who had attached themselves to the cause—sat rigidly in their chairs. At my arrival, Katthu flinched so sharply he nearly spilled something blue from his glass. After last night's massacre at the estate, their belief in the invulnerability of their walls and the competence of their own security had clearly developed a crack large enough for a Venator-class starship to fly through.
"Lord Brute, we are deeply grateful that you found the time… and for your vigilance," Mina said softly, though I could see her fingers trembling as they gripped the edge of the table. "Last night's events proved that our enemies will stop at nothing."
I gave a short, barely noticeable nod, maintaining a mask of cold composure. Inside, I was almost amused. Frightened aristocrats are some of the most useful raw material for building a new order.
"Vigilance is practically the only thing that keeps one alive in our line of work, Senator," I said after a theatrical pause, producing the info-crystal from my inner pocket. It glinted faintly between my fingers. "But blades and blasters are only half of protection. The other half—far more important—is information. And, even more importantly, the ability to exchange it without prying eyes."
I placed the crystal on the table.
Katthu-Nemo leaned forward, his wings fluttering nervously.
"Another Separatist encryption system?" he rasped. "Wat Tambor boasted that their communications are unbreakable, and yet yesterday their own droids nearly turned us into scrap."
"I couldn't care less about the Techno Union and their fairy tales," I said dismissively. "Tambor can puff himself up all he wants, but last night proved exactly how much his guarantees are worth."
I allowed a trace of contempt into my voice.
"What you're looking at is a development from an organization I maintain… close contact with. We call it the 'R.G.A.'—the Revolutionary Galactic Alliance."
The moment I said it, I felt my pulse quicken slightly. To them, it was just another acronym in an endless galaxy of factions. But for me… it was something else entirely. An attempt to import ideas that once reshaped my own world into this one. To build something better. An army of a different kind—where discipline is based not on fear of a master, but on shared purpose and collective good. And, of course, one without the endless corruption.
Right now, standing in Sith robes in front of nervous senators, I looked nothing like a commissar in a leather coat. But the principle remained the same: I was building a tool that would eventually sweep away people like them too… if they couldn't adapt.
"Revolutionary Alliance?" Bonteri carefully touched the crystal. "That's… a strange name. It sounds rather radical."
"Radical times demand radical measures, Mina," I said with a faint smirk. "This is a closed network. The encryption is based on systems that don't rely on standard Confederacy computational hubs. Breaking it from the outside will be extremely difficult. And, ideally, no one should even know it exists."
Of course, I didn't mention that from the inside, it was completely transparent to me—and a handful of our agents. Through this system, I wasn't just offering protection. I was laying the foundation for the future structure of the R.G.A., into which they would eventually be integrated whether they realized it or not.
Right now, it was just a communication tool for the opposition. Soon, it would become the backbone of my own coordinated forces—loyal not to credits, but to ideology.
By giving them "freedom of communication," I was actually constructing a perfect digital cage. Every word, every file, every plan would pass through my filter. I would be their only provider of security—and therefore the only one deciding what information reached them… and what quietly stayed with me.
Katthu-Nemo shifted uncomfortably.
"The name shouldn't concern you, Senator," I continued. "It's a tribute to the origins of the movement."
I waved a hand casually, as if it were irrelevant.
"I'm sure you've heard the rumors about its ideology. 'Common good,' 'equality,' 'rule of workers'… sounds alarming, doesn't it?"
Katthu-Nemo swallowed nervously, his fear of losing assets flaring in the Force like a dull red stain.
"You're talking about full nationalization," he said hoarsely. "That would destroy the economy!"
"It would destroy your corporate economy," I corrected sharply. "Let's be honest. The Techno Union and Trade Federation are parasites. A cancer."
I leaned forward slightly.
"As an authorized agent of the R.G.A., I am offering you a deal. We handle the… unpleasant work. Suppression of unrest. Resource control. Removal of Tambor's agents. Yes, the rhetoric sounds harsh—but for you, it's an opportunity. You convert an uncontrolled population into a disciplined structure working for the state instead of for Gunray's vaults."
I let the words hang for a moment.
"You preserve your influence. Your resources stop bleeding out to external corporations. And stability is restored under coordinated oversight—mine."
Bonteri studied me carefully.
"You're taking a risk, Brute," she said quietly. "If Dooku finds out you've given us communications he doesn't control… and this proposal…"
"The Count will only know what I choose to tell him," I interrupted calmly, rising to signal the end of the meeting. "Use this wisely. The galaxy is changing. Old alliances are breaking. Only those who understand that power belongs not to those with the most factories—but to those who can unify people under a single purpose—will survive."
That last line almost sounded sincere. And for a brief moment, it even was.
The senators, of course, mistook it for standard Sith doctrine. Let them.
The less they understand what kind of "Dawn" I'm actually building for this galaxy, the more peacefully they will sleep… for now.
As I left the room, I felt the tension ease from my shoulders. The first stage was complete—the information filter was in place, and the seeds of "R.G.A." had been planted.
They wouldn't be convinced yet.
But doubt had been sown in the most fertile ground of all:
Among those who feared losing power.
And I would honor every promise I had made to them… right up until the moment I no longer needed them.
XXXXXXXXXX
I entered the corridor on the thirtieth level of the technical tier alongside Kem Val.
"Master, it stinks like someone tried to cook a stew out of dead rancors and old tires," Kem rumbled.
I couldn't really disagree with him. Above, Raxus shone with cleanliness and spring-like freshness in the air. Down here—inside the planet's underbelly—things were far less pleasant. Massive pipes, roaring as sewage and something far less identifiable rushed through them, twisted together into a chaotic maze that filled the space with constant noise. Steam hissed out of joints with a shriek loud enough to hurt the ears, and dim lamps coated in thick grime barely pushed back the darkness.
A proper underhive, damn it. I just hoped there weren't any genestealers down here, because the atmosphere was starting to qualify.
"Endure it, Kem. We're not here sightseeing," I said, adjusting my mask and checking the thermal optics. "The signal led us here. That man from the recording—the one briefing the BX droids yesterday—clearly thought this place was a safe hideout."
"A hideout for cowards," the Dathomirian snorted, kicking aside a dented container. "Hiding behind machines and hoping metal will protect flesh… that's what weakness smells like. I would rather face him directly."
"I'm afraid you won't get that chance," I said, stopping in front of a heavy blast door still marked with a local maintenance symbol, half-painted over in gray. "Do you feel it?"
Kem froze, sniffing the air. His yellow eyes narrowed.
"I smell death… and blood. I like this place!"
I activated my lightsaber. The hilt slid into my hand as if it had always belonged there, and the orange-black blade hissed to life, cutting through the stale air and throwing long shadows across the walls. With a single motion, I sliced through the lock, and the door groaned open.
Inside, the "hideout" turned out to be a command center: dozens of monitors still running logs, tangled cables everywhere, and server racks pushed to their limits.
And in the center of the room sat a man.
Or what was left of him.
Middle-aged, in a decent civilian suit—now ruined by a precise blaster shot to the back of the head. His face had slumped onto the control console, eyes fixed on nothing.
"We're late," I said, stepping closer to examine the wound. "Point-blank shot… and the target didn't even notice the attacker. Very professional. Looks like the Techno Union is trying to erase its tracks. Not surprising—finding an idiot executor like that is always easy."
"Master, look at the terminal," Kem pointed with a claw at one of the screens. "They're not finished here."
I looked over.
The display showed a schematic of the adjacent section—the server room. Red dots marked assassin droids. One blue dot was pinned in a corner, trapped. The droids were methodically cutting through the bulkhead.
And then we heard it.
Gunfire. Rapid, controlled bursts.
Then an explosion that shook the walls.
And after that—something else: a high female voice shouting Huttese curses so creatively that even I couldn't fully parse them.
"Seems like the operation is still in full swing," I said, already turning toward the exit, a spark of excitement rising inside me again. "Signal leads there. Looks like someone is very determined not to die… and will probably be very grateful for being saved. Enough to talk about their employers. Come on, Kem. Time to scrap a few tin cans."
"Finally," the Dathomirian grinned, baring rows of sharp teeth.
We sprinted through the corridors, following the sounds of battle. Through the Force, I could feel it—an intense flare of emotion. Pure, concentrated rage and survival instinct. Whoever had barricaded themselves in that server room wasn't going down quietly, and that earned a certain respect.
Within minutes, the flashes of blaster fire became visible ahead. Two BX commando droids in their standard gray Techno Union camouflage were methodically blasting at a sealed door. Coordinated, efficient—elite machines—but clearly not expecting an attack from behind.
"Kem, right one is yours. I'll take the left," I called out, accelerating.
My orange blade cut through the first droid's rifle before its sensors even registered danger. At the same instant, Kem slammed into the second one like a freight train, crushing its torso inward with brute force.
Behind the door, another explosion echoed. More droids inside. The situation was clearly critical.
"No time to waste," I muttered, igniting my blade again and slicing into the door. "Let's see who's inside swearing at the entire Techno Union hierarchy."
The metal resisted, hissing under the heat, almost like it didn't want to give up its secrets. Finally, a molten section crashed inward, and I forced my way into the room—just in time to duck as a crackling bolt of energy shot overhead.
Chaos.
The server room was filled with racks of equipment, chemical vapor hanging thick enough to sting even through my mask filters. In the far corner, behind a makeshift barricade of dismantled server frames, a figure in a gray jumpsuit was holding out.
A woman.
She had a bare power cable in one hand, using it like a whip to short out nearby droids, and a blaster in the other, firing methodically. Her position was surrounded—five BX droids still active, more wreckage twitching on the floor.
"Alright, let's move!" I shouted.
Kem didn't hesitate. He charged in with a guttural battle cry, tearing the first droid apart bare-handed. The sound alone was enough to raise the hair on my neck.
I slipped past the chaos, severing weapons and heads with precise strikes. One by one, the droids fell—metal, sparks, and molten circuitry collapsing into silence.
The last BX tried to retreat. I lifted my hand, the Force snapping it off balance and throwing it straight into Kem's grasp. A final crunch, and it was over.
Silence returned, broken only by leaking coolant pipes.
I deactivated my blade and turned.
The woman slowly stood up from behind the barricade, still aiming her blaster directly at my face.
Her expression was covered in soot, hair disheveled under a damaged helmet, eyes sharp and calculating.
"Move, and I blow your brains out before you finish waving that glow-stick," she said hoarsely.
I smirked slightly, not reaching for my weapon.
"Glow-stick? Interesting name for something that just saved your life."
My gaze drifted past her to the monitors still running behind the barricade. Streams of data—logs, financial transfers, logistics nodes.
Techno Union infrastructure.
She hadn't just survived. She had been stealing something on her way out.
Information.
"You were gathering blackmail material," I said, taking a slow step forward despite the gun aimed at me. "Planning to drag the Techno Union down with you if they came for you. Practical. But as you can see… they got here first."
I slightly tilted my head, taking her words in without reacting outwardly—only registering the details, the way you usually register threats that might still be useful later.
"Elarah," I repeated calmly. "Got it."
Kem Val gave a quiet snort behind me, clearly satisfied with how quickly the situation had shifted from "shootout in a server room" to "new potential asset for dinner discussions." His interest in her hadn't disappeared—it had just changed shape.
"You've got a talent for talking like someone who's already pressed the button but hasn't decided which one," I added, still watching her. "That's a rare skill. People like that usually don't last long."
She didn't blink.
I slowly lowered my hand, signaling I wasn't about to push forcefully… yet.
"But let's clarify something so there are no misunderstandings later. I'm not your boss. And you're not my pawn. Pawns don't last long in my line of work—I prefer tools that understand what they're doing."
I nodded toward the ruined server room.
"And you've already proven you can survive, hack systems, and leave a smoking mess for whoever comes after you. That's more useful than half the people I'm usually 'recommended.'"
Kem tilted his head slightly, as if evaluating whether I was being too lenient.
I continued, lowering my voice a little:
"Now the point. You're right: the Techno Union doesn't leave witnesses. And you're right again—if you stay here, they won't just remove you. They'll erase you so thoroughly even the archives will pretend you never existed."
I paused, letting it sink in.
"So you've got two options. One—you disappear right now. No guarantees, no resources, no future. Two—you officially 'die' here… and start living somewhere they won't look."
I tapped my helmet lightly.
"The question is, Elarah: do you just want to survive… or do you want them to realize they made a mistake when they decided to hunt you?"
XXXXXXXXXX
The return to the apartment was quiet. Raxus Secundus still glittered with lights far below, as if the stench of the lower technical levels and the blood spilled in the server rooms were nothing more than a bad dream. I had Elara relocated to one of the technical rooms in my residential block—unofficially, under the designation "strictly classified."
Khem, however, made no attempt to hide his displeasure. He stood by the office window, snorting in irritation.
"Master, I don't like her scent," he growled. "That woman reeks of defiance. That usually ends in rebellion. She doesn't recognize your strength. Let me eat her if she makes even a single mistake. It would be… good for discipline."
I paused with my finger hovering over the terminal, then slowly turned to look at the Dashade. A crooked smile tugged at my lips.
"Eat her, huh, Khem?" I raised an eyebrow, glancing at his massive jaws. "You do realize that in my world, when someone says something like that about an attractive woman, it usually implies a very different kind of 'consumption.' Though I doubt she'd appreciate your particular style of courtship. You're a bit too… literal. And she looks like she'd give you terrible indigestion."
Khem let out a sound like rusted metal grinding—his usual expression of complete confusion at my humor.
"I speak of consuming her essence, Master. Not your strange human metaphors. Her tongue is poisonous."
"Then leave her essence alone," I said, finally activating the terminal. "Her defiance is exactly what makes her valuable. The ones who immediately kneel are useless when things get difficult. I don't need obedience—I need capability. Elara is our way into places I can't reach openly without drawing too much attention. So rein in your appetite. In every sense."
I entered the final sequence of my password, bringing the encrypted R.G.A. network online. The screen flickered to life, revealing the monitoring interface. Elara was already active—she had been brought up to speed earlier. As for betrayal… I had read her through the Force. She wouldn't turn on us. Not yet. And not for free.
Data began to stream in. Intercepted transmissions from Bonteri's terminals.
A message from Senator Cathu-Nemo to a Nabooi intermediary. Then another—Mina's official report praising the "invaluable assistance" of Lord Brute. I couldn't help but smile. That was exactly what I needed.
"You see, Khem?" I gestured at the scrolling data. "From this point on, the game is played on my terms. While they think they're fighting for freedom, they're unknowingly laying the groundwork for my future empire."
I leaned back in my chair, feeling the Darkness within me stir in quiet approval.
"We can only hope, Master," Khem muttered as he melted back into the shadows. "But if she starts to smell like betrayal, I won't wait for permission."
I gave a faint nod. Controlling someone like Elara was like holding a krayt dragon by the tail—dangerous, unpredictable, and always one mistake away from disaster.
But that, in its own way, was the point.
The harder the game became… the more satisfying it was to play.