Chapter Text
The turbolift's drone provided background noise for the thoughts churned by Niayes' anxiety. She tried to focus on the floor numbers blipping onscreen and wound up chewing her lower lip so hard it nearly bruised.
Beside her, Thrisc kept adjusting the collar of his shirt. He didn't speak. He hadn't spoken more than a few words since morning. Last Niayes had checked, they hadn't fought in a while, nor had they started in the past few days. But she could always be wrong.
“Are you sure you're okay?” she asked.
His answering smile was tight, strained. “When have I ever let my personal life get in the way of doing my job?”
“Not enough,” Niayes said, a bit sadly, and allowed Thrisc to straighten her shirt collar.
Unusually for a Dark Councillor, Darth Imperius didn't have a single guard posted outside the door to her main office. She did have a receptionist, who was a Dashade seated behind an undersized desk. He ushered them through with a grunt and a wave of his vibrosword.
Raelen was seated behind an oversized desk. Well, nominally. She'd tilted herself to one side and reclined at a precarious angle; her ankles were propped onto an edge of the desktop, lekku draped over the back of her chair, legs close to displacing a stack of datapads. She fiddled with a spiky holocron, seemingly oblivious to the agents’ entrance.
“My Lord,” Niayes began.
“Darth Imperius,” Thrisc said.
The holocron landed on the desk with an ugly thunk.
“Oooooh, boy, this sounds serious,” Raelen said.
“Can we talk about Lana Beniko?” Niayes asked. “About your last conversation with her?”
“I don’t see why not.” Raelen swiveled in her chair, planting her feet firmly on the floor. She shoved the holocron away so that she had an unobstructed view of her visitors. “And do stop standing at attention, I hate that, it makes me feel like a Moff.”
The agents exchanged quick glances; they relaxed their postures until Thrisc stood less stiffly and Niayes was at ease.
“There's no news on her impending resignation,” Raelen continued. “I assume you have opinions.”
Niayes smiled ruefully. “You could say that.”
“You, I'm unsurprised by,” Raelen drawled, addressing Niayes. “But you, Thrisc?”
“I still share some of your wariness,” Thrisc admitted. “However, Minister Beniko should be commended. She overcame two challenges: Vitiate's destructiveness and Republic arrogance.”
“She had three challenges,” Raelen retorted, “if you count her own ineptitude. That has yet to be overcome.”
Thrisc's level tone sharpened, bordering on scathing. “With respect, every complication could be traced to Theron Shan. He was responsible for the Sixth Line’s presence, indirectly responsible for Saresh’s intel and the subsequent invasion. At the end, his intervention prevented us from learning more about Vitiate’s power.”
Raelen had once claimed that she avoided using the Force to intentionally read her friends’ feelings. Niayes believed her, but any strong emotion was sure to flood Raelen's senses. Yesterday, Thrisc had advised caution: it was unclear if Imperius knew about the relationships that had developed on Rishi and Yavin IV...or how they'd rapidly destabilized along with Ziost.
“Thrisc is right,” said Niayes, without venom. “Though we disagreed about Master Surro. If Theron hadn’t objected first, I would've. We only stopped bickering because Cehirse suggested cutting Surro in half like a gross parody of a parable, so…”
“Minister Beniko can’t be blamed for what happened on Ziost,” Thrisc concluded. “She mopped up Theron’s torrential failure to the best of her ability. With 35% of the population saved, she did a decent job.”
“Shan is a fool,” Raelen said breezily, “and my Republic sources say he'll be punished.” Niayes saw Thrisc tense before he presumably remembered that the Republic tended to punish war heroes with slaps on the wrist. “But Vitiate was going to return anyway. Ziost is - was full of Sith. I hardly think Shan spoon-fed our errant Emperor.”
“It’s about the principle of the thing,” Thrisc grumbled.
“Beniko cleaned Shan’s mess. Fine. She shouldn’t be commended for doing the bare minimum of her role. If that was the best of her ability, Marr truly is an idiot.” Raelen propped her elbows on the desk, her index finger jabbing the air with each point she made. “We were infiltrated double-fold. Triple, if you count the Jedi. Why was her closest aide Kovach, a random human, when she’d worked with Imperial Intelligence’s top operatives just months ago?”
The significance of the word human wasn’t lost on Niayes. Both of the 'top operatives' happened to be Chiss; Raelen was implying that Kovach had been appointed as a result. The agents had discussed it and determined that anti-alien sentiment hadn't been part of Lana's judgment, but that was a separate debate.
“This is spy stuff, Raelen.” Niayes’ lips curled wryly as she explained, “Kovach wouldn’t be a very good spy if we’d heard of him.”
“Catching him was as simple as walking in on a holocall.”
“To be fair, Saresh was the one who stated his role outright,” Niayes recalled. “Twice.”
Raelen straightened in her seat, snapping her fingers insistently. “Who's more inept: the foolish Force-blind infiltrators, or the Sith who was fooled by two groups of foolish Force-blind infiltrators?”
Thrisc stepped forward and said, “We're getting off-track. The point is, you changed the long-term course of Sith Intelligence without consulting us.”
“The point is, that was exactly what Beniko did before me,” Raelen countered. “For months, regarding everyday operations and combating Vitiate.”
“That’s not a winning hand,” he argued. “What justifies your actions, if hers are so unconscionable?”
“You know you can trust me.”
Thrisc's silence served as an effective response, soon met by Raelen's cool glower. Niayes couldn't help fidgeting in discomfort for its duration.
“Sith Intelligence shouldn't be run by a Sith,” Raelen finally said. “I thought we agreed.”
Niayes shook her head. “It’s different. Lana wasn't raised Sith.”
“I wasn't raised Imperial, and look how I turned out,” Raelen replied, voice dripping with sardonic reproach. “For the average person, power has the potential to corrupt. For Sith, power is spice. You saw the progression. Lana Beniko.” Her tongue lingered on the n for emphasis. “Polite, pragmatic. You grant her some control.” For a second, Raelen stared at Niayes, and her heart raced despite herself. “Over information, over operations, over Theron Shan's feelings, over yours.”
Raelen had hit at least two sore spots in a single careless strike, more painful than the precision of a master manipulator. Niayes gulped quietly, sneaked a peek at Thrisc's face and was relieved to see it stony.
“And what happens?” asked Raelen, near-singsong. “She uses your resources. She abuses trust. She steals the position you'd already paid for.”
“I didn’t want that title,” Niayes reminded Raelen.
“You wanted a chance to reform the system. In our Empire, it’s the same.”
“Then can't we give Lana that chance?” Niayes implored.
“I would, if she had better history. Beniko was virtually unknown until we attacked Tython. She did nothing of note in the period between Revan's defeat and Ziost's destruction - not even breathe in your general direction. Ziost aside, her typical plan involves throwing others at a problem while she makes pithy comments.” Raelen's mouth almost curved into a sneer. “Take it from me: calculated inaction is worse than reckless acts of passion.”
“You would say that,” muttered Thrisc.
“It can be,” Niayes conceded. “Whether that applies to Lana remains to be seen.”
“I won’t wait to find out.” Raelen stared at Niayes again; set her heart racing under her casual scrutiny, again. “Commander, you're a shoo-in for Minister of Intelligence. I haven't picked a Darth to figurehead the Sphere, but whoever they are, I'll ensure that they're...cooperative.”
“Do I have a say in this?” Niayes questioned.
“Of course. If you nominate a non-Sith, I'll support them.”
“There’s only one other person I trust to run Sith Intelligence,” said Niayes, furrowing her brow, “and he’s standing next to me. I don’t think he’s keen on the idea.”
“No?” The hints of a smirk played at Raelen's lips as she passively glanced at Thrisc. “Come on. Don't tell me you couldn’t handle a little infiltration from the SIS.”
Niayes' eyes widened in alarm.
Thrisc tightened his jaw and asked, “If I refuse, as well?”
“Darth Marr and I tussle for a while, I win, I turn Intelligence into a glorified branch of Reclamation. You're free to pursue your own goals, likely benefiting the Empire in the process.”
“We could ally with Marr, have him reinstate Lana,” Thrisc threatened.
“You could ally with Marr,” Raelen parroted mockingly. “Sure. Because I’ve upset you so much, you’re willing to throw your lot in with the walking aberration over something as dire and pressing as Lana Beniko’s job. If you had issues with Beniko, mark my words, you will despise Marr.”
Thrisc's cold composure chilled to icy. “Far be it for me to grasp the minds of the Sith.”
“I suppose that’s why you stick to your fellow spies.”
“Okay, that’s enough!” Niayes exclaimed, scrambling to step between them. Raelen snapped her mouth shut, preening smugly; Niayes shot her a warning glance, then arched an eyebrow at Thrisc. “You did walk straight into that one.” He must really be out of it.
“We came to have a civil discussion, Imperius,” Thrisc said, glaring over Niayes’ shoulder. “Not to be baited.”
“Yes.” Niayes sucked in a deep breath, face scrunched in displeasure. “Raelen, I don't want to do this - ”
“That’s all right,” Raelen quipped, “whatever it is, you don’t need to. I'm nice like that.”
“You accuse Lana of keeping us in the dark and betraying our trust, but so did you,” Niayes pointed out. “Also for months.”
“What ally did I covertly arrange to have tortured in the process? When was my deception unnecessary, and when did I fail to apologise? Scratch that, when did I fail?”
“We wouldn’t know,” Niayes said patiently. “You weren’t very forthcoming.”
“Your complaints are noted.” Raelen’s gaze flitted back and forth between the Chiss. “Thrisc, the Commander and I should speak in private.”
“Yes, my Lord,” he grit out. He and Niayes shared a meaningful look before he exited.
The door slid shut behind him, and Raelen waved for Niayes to come closer. She complied at a languid pace, stopping in front of the desk.
“You’re suited for a greater role than second-fiddle to a Sith, and you know it,” Raelen declared. “Thrisc knows it. Yet you’re too humble to push. That is precisely why you should lead Intelligence.”
“Thank you for believing in me. But Lana's confidence in herself isn't a weakness.”
“Don't mistake a soft tone and reasonable disposition for the grace to acknowledge personal failure.” Raelen snatched the datapad at the top of the stack, briefly lowering her eyes as she swiped a finger across its screen. “For what it’s worth, I don't hate her. Hate is beneath me.”
“I have to ask, is this really about Lana’s competence?” wondered Niayes. “You’re usually not unforgiving.”
“I am really annoyed about the incompetence. Plus, she could jeopardize valuable assets.”
“Mmm.” Niayes quirked her lips. “I’m curious. What do you think I see in her? One asset to another.”
Shrugging, Raelen jabbed at the datapad several times. “Something to adore. An ideal. An idol, perhaps.”
“I see a woman,” Niayes said.
Raelen’s head jerked upright.
“I see a woman bright and inspiring, cracked and dirtied, on a pedestal and in a position to bring others down if she topples. I see a soul trapped between the sense of theory and the reality of circumstance. In crises, Lana overthinks, she underfeels. She doesn't realise it till it's too late, or not at all. That warrants my sympathy.”
“If that's true, it could very well warrant your sympathy and your scorn,” Raelen chided. “Multi-task with your emotions. It’s more efficient.”
“Maybe someday. Not yet.”
Niayes perched on the edge of the desktop, arms folded, her back mostly turned on Raelen. She swung her feet absently as she stared into the distance. If the previous Minister of Intelligence could watch them now, he'd be proud, and quite possibly horrified into indefinite speechlessness.
“When we first met, I thought I'd found an answer to my frustrations with the Empire,” Niayes said, wistful. “Imagine, a Sith who'd experienced life as an Imperial. She admired the Revanites’ philosophy without following their methods. She decided to work with the enemy for the greater good, without so much as a catty remark.” Niayes cast Raelen an amused glance. “No offence.”
“Lana must've seemed worthier of worship than the Emperor,” Raelen guessed. “And with a prettier smile. Then, oh, how the mask began to slip...”
“I think it was more like molting.”
“She certainly is a snake.”
Niayes sighed. “I’ve learned that once you assume you've hit the rock bottom of someone's personality, that's when it's most liable to swallow you. People aren't layers of sediment. They're endless chasms with breaks between falling.”
Raelen wrinkled her nose, smirking down at the datapad. “I get the feeling that you rehearsed this speech.”
“I had a few points in mind since Rishi.” Niayes twisted around, hands jittery and flying in continuous earnest gestures. “Yes, I've seen the bad in her. In some ways, deeper than anyone. I've seen the good, too. Her wisdom, her warmth, her remorse. You might think I'm naive, that I’m doomed to be disappointed - ”
“I do.” Raelen poked the datapad, slightly more forceful than earlier, and set it beside the holocron. “Unequivocally.”
“You could be right. Still, I can't believe that her goodness was a lie or damning inconsistency of character, or that it's being swapped for power.” Raelen’s scoff was interrupted by Niayes lifting a hand. “I also can’t believe that her goodness is entirely who she 'truly' is.”
“Conduct a survey. You’ll discover that our friends are split on whether Lana is a danger or a blessing.”
“She’s both, neither, and more.” Unshaken by Raelen’s gloriously long eye-roll, Niayes persisted, “She’s a woman. She's sold short by a pervasive lack of faith, then condemned by expectations. Sometimes she does it to herself.”
“So, the snake sheds its skin on the regular. It's still a snake,” said Raelen, steepling her fingers and resting her chin atop them. “Complexity alone is not redeeming.”
“No,” Niayes agreed, with a hint of reluctance, “though it is why we bonded. We want to uncover truth, unravel the universe, all that. But I enjoy the journey. I accept that it's lifelong. Lana infrequently holds her heart to a lower standard because she knows she’ll never be satisfied, so why try?”
Raelen narrowed her eyes. “Is that supposed to melt me into a puddle of pity?”
“I hope she could earn your understanding, ch'acah. I don't expect it.”
They fell silent. Niayes reached across the desk to clasp Raelen's hands, watched herself squeeze them. In her touch, there was no trace of supernatural strength or the Force lightning she favoured. She could keep avoiding the Sith's searching gaze - avoid letting her see - but Niayes looked up and blinked slowly.
“You love her,” Raelen stated. “I don’t need the Force to feel that. But do you trust her, Niayes?”
“Maybe. Does it matter to you? I trust myself. Now more than ever, because of Lana.” Niayes brought a hand to cup Raelen's face, her thumb stroking along the whorls of her tattooed chin. “I trust you, too. Always. And I’d like you to believe that while my trust may be easily given, it is worth something.”
“I can’t see her the way you do. I probably never will.”
“She told me that different eyes glimpse different truths.” They released each other at the same time. Niayes glided off the edge of the desk, and faced Raelen with a small spring in her step. “See her as a threat. See her as an obstacle. Someone should. We're not prepared for a repeat of Marrmania, are we?”
The mere mention elicited a shudder from Raelen. “I still have occasional urges to purge the Outreach Bureau.”
“Just promise me that however you choose to deal with Sith Intelligence, you won’t bruise anything beyond Lana’s ego,” Niayes finished.
“I promise.” Raelen's sincere expression retreated back into nonchalance. “It may be rescinded at a later date.”
“I’ll be there to talk you out of it, anyway.”
“You'd be welcome to try.”
Niayes grabbed one of Raelen's hands again, gave it a final squeeze as she added, “You might want to apologise to Thrisc.”
“Already taken care of,” revealed Raelen, nodding curtly towards her datapad. “I sent him information on Theron’s current activities.”
“Has he replied?”
“Yes. Who taught him emojis?” That had to be the silliest question Niayes had heard in weeks. Raelen realised it, too, sighed and slapped her forehead at how the Chiss beamed. “Why did I even ask?”
“I’d better join him before he paces a hole in your carpeting,” Niayes said, and swept into a bow. When she raised her head, a coy smile had replaced her natural grin. “Darth Imperius.”
Raelen returned the smile demurely. “Commander.”