His breaths came in large heaves as the man leaned his shoulder against the wall. The wall was cool to the touch, which gave him some temporary relief. He had never been prepared for all this. The Dark Brotherhood was crazier than he had ever figured, even from what the Markosian Quaestor had told him. He had lost his initial artifact to that blue-eyed Zeltron.
The encounter should have went so much different. Zachary was quicker than she was, he seemed to be stronger than she was. If he had pressed his attack he could have cut her down and taken his prize. The Dark Jedi couldn’t seem to stop himself from trying to talk the girl down, however. In the end of it all, it had cost him their little contest. Despite the fact that Ta’var didn’t seem to hold a particular malice toward the Corellian, her desire to win trumped his own.
*Perhaps if I were just able to bring myself to kill, if I could drop these old Jedi-ingrained habits, maybe it would have ended differently. Perhaps that would have granted me the edge I needed.*
He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He had been growing too lax among the likes of the Anzat Quaestor, Marcus Kiriyu and a number of the Sons and Daughters of Sadow he had brushed shoulders with during his tenure in the Clan. If he was not more careful he would end up sacrificing his own morals. His pursuit of his destiny, his obedience to the supposed will of the Force would drive him, but there were some lines he refused to cross.
Drawing a slow breath, Zachary compressed a button on the side of his comm’s transmitter. “This is O’Maille to CNS Mission Command. I repeat, this is Zachary O’Maille, reporting to CNS Mission Command from the surface of Mygeeto. I have a package in my possession. I am requesting extraction.”
The receiver crackled for a moment. “Affirmative, O’Maille. Shuttle Beta-Four is en route to a spot about 2 km north of your current position. Stay safe.”
As he pocketed the comm again, the Sorcerer slid a hand up into his robes. After fishing out for a moment, he withdrew a datapad from within its folds. The device activated with a low hum, projecting a small projection of the terrain. Glancing at his compass, he took a note of the direction, adjusted the device and examined it more closely.
A crack pulled the man’s attention from the device. As the Corellian turned, looking up he saw the sunken cheeks and the barely hidden snarl of a Clawdite peering down at him, with a blaster pistol pointed down at him. The Loyalist motioned at the small box clutched in the Sorcerer’s hand. “Go on now, put it down. This doesn’t have to end messily.”
“Wait,” Zachary scowled, “a Clawdite, wearing Naga Sadow colors who I haven’t met? You have *spy* written all over you. You may want to identify yourself first.”
“I am Aexod Burgoo,” the Clawdite hissed. “You evidently don’t care much for Sapphire Squadron to have not met me.”
“Don’t take it in such poor sport,” O’Maille flashed an insincere smile. As the Clawdite snarled at the man, the Corellian threw out his arm. The lightsaber in his hands flew out in a tight arc, twirling toward his Sadowan opponent and slicing through the blaster in his right hand. Zachary raised his hand, catching the weapon as it returned to him like a boomerang.
Before Burgoo could respond, the Savant turned and began to sprint toward the extraction point. If one of his own House turned on him, he hated to think about the response from the rest of his Clan, not to mention the Palatinae themselves. This was going to be a long day, Force preserve him.