Jedi Insurgency 309

Once the marriage between Jedi Knight Yon, and Shadow Matron S'vala had been confirmed, the date for their union was set for next week. 

Upon finalizing the details of the alliance, S'vala had departed with little fanfare. 

Seated in the back of her transport, the emotionally cool 24 year old stared at a hologram of Yon, before closing it to stare at three kneeling disciples. 

“Apologies, mistress. The Fashionista & Scilux cannot be found, bribed, or murdered.” One of the kneeling figures apologized. 

S'vala silently stared down at her minions, letting them squirm uncomfortably under the weight of their failures. As she understood that each one of them very dearly wished to occupy the seat she was in now. That if the wedding failed to go through due to the interference of Umbara's other two major castes, then she was as good as dead. To stand at her current rank, there were many dead bodies piled behind her, and many backroom deals agreed to. 

Ultimately, she was a compromise option between two powerful parties who couldn't decide on their own leader. Whilst nominally she was in charge, it was a tenuous reign at best. One that could draw all the hatred & outrage of the other castes, as well as act as the perfect scapegoat once the war was over, or Umbara was conquered by another faction.

Unwilling to await the slow death of a boiled frog, she had desperately been in search of options. Although she had never forgotten the act of that Jedi so many years ago, it wasn't until the liberation of Malastare that she truly took notice of Yon. As Revan's exploits grew, so too did the names of his students. Whilst she was inundated with palace intrigue, barely surviving between two factions of her own caste-much less maneuvering around the CIS & other castes-there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. This recent visit had been her chance, her opportunity to seize eternal glory, or fall to the wayside. 

So she gambled. 

She promised things theoretically available, and spoke as much truth as possible. When she witnessed that fake priest fail the test, she understood that Revan was an extreme character. A man full of ruthlessness…but given the rewards ceremony, one taken with the idea of public displays of compassion. S'vala was certain the man was a monster, one who had killed countless people. But indeed because he was a monster, did she feel confident in tying herself to his chariot. 

An over protective, cool, cunning man. One who is estimated to have cost the burgeoning Empire trillions from but a handful of actions, stalled their war effort, and turned a tenth of the former Republic into open rebellion. Since he was willing to go through the motions so publicly with his men, then she had decided to make her bid for an alliance in front of the other Republic representatives. 

Such open dealing went against everything she learnt and was taught growing up on Umbara, but being a warrior on the front lines taught her more than those high ranking members of her order who only poisoned or killed from the back. That is, a frontal attack, one made with courage, and a willingness to put everything on the line…that is the attack most admired by the strong. 

And Revan was the definition of the word: strong. 

Yu was out, and Qzin had capitulated with ease. Merchant Lord Qzin-seeing where the wind was blowing-had promised to pay for the entire event. Although the power armor wearing man felt a great deal of heartache, all it took was one deep look at Revan's mask to make him yield. Much to his gleeful delight, however, he was given permission from Revan to host an invite-only soiree of the richest & most influential people from across the galaxy. Those who came to this wedding would be personally healed by Revan, and would not need to bring a gift or monetary value. 

S'vala had taken joy at Qzin's ashen face when he learnt there would be no income from this event, especially since he was bearing the costs, but he was short sighted. Revan had a public persona to maintain, and aimed to obtain moral superiority over the Empire. The masked Jedi would also gain prestige from these wealthy & famous individuals, many of whom were desperate to appear relevant on the main stage. This was their chance to interact with one of the most controversial persons in the current era. Clout chasers, fans, haters, they had no choice but to go. This marriage alliance would not only result in Umbara donating soldiers & technology to Revan's forces, but also help him accrue a great deal of soft power. 

Feeling the ship land, she stood from her seat, and nodded at seemingly empty air. A crisp hiss, then hum sounded in the small craft, and the kneeling companions-perhaps becoming aware of it-all reacted differently. One rolled forward, lunging at S'vala with a poisoned vibroknife. Another went for a backwards leg sweep, a hidden blade gleamed from the heel of their boot. The last one remained kneeling, motionless at the noise. 

S'vala flicked her wrist, sending a needle out at her assailant, stopping them dead in their tracks once the sharp object pierced their neck, causing them to drop to their knees, and clutch their neck as they asphyxiated. Turning towards the other attacker, they were a pile of limbs as a green, red-tinged lightsaber diced them up. 

The kneeling subordinate bowed their head lower, not saying a word. The hum of the lightsaber rang less than an inch from their ear. 

“He's fast, isn't he? The three of you never noticed him boarding the ship, despite engaging in anti-camo contingencies.” S'vala stated, the barest hint of pride eking into her voice.

“Speak. Who do you work for?” The short, black haired teen asked, waving his hand. 

The Umbaran dressed in all black, and resting on her knees grit her teeth, then smiled as blood dripped down her eye sockets. “Boom.” She smiled, confident that her suicidal explosion would complete the mission. 

S'vala's eyes went wide, and she tried to run towards the exit hatch, desperately activating her personal shield in the vain hope that it could save her. But she knew otherwise. Most personal shields-even top of the line ones like hers-could not protect someone from an explosive this close. 

Just as the woman exploded, and the bright flames were about to flash-fry her, Yon opened his mouth, and deeply inhaled. The young adult had spent a great deal of time learning how to breathe in water, space, and even fly. Going further down this path, he had learnt how to absorb energy & other attacks by inhaling them! 

However, as soon as the explosion had formed, it had fizzled out. The short teen snorted a small black stream of steam-like vapor out of his nostrils, and all was well. 

Suddenly stopping in her tracks, S'vala slowly returned to the cabin, and stared Yon in the face. “Remarkable. Such power and speed. My people have no records of a Jedi ability such as this. Our children will be most powerful.” She said, both in pride of herself, as well as in an attempt to entice her target. 

Yon seemed to ignore her attempt at seduction, and stared at the corpse that had perished via poisoned dart. Telekinetically removing the metal instrument, he then closed his eyes, seemingly scanning her body from head to toe with the Force. Then, carefully & methodically, like a surgeon or expert plumber, he removed several teeth, a subdermal implant, and cut out a marble-sized explosive device. Scanning the corpse once more, Yon silently nodded to himself, seemingly uncaring of the blood dripping down his fingertips, or the catastrophe of the explosive a minute ago. 

Suffused the body with a minty green light, all the damage he had dealt knit itself together, and his hands once more took on that warm honey-ish golden quality to them that made S'vala's heart flutter. Seconds later, the corpse had returned to a healthy pale white, and was gasping for breath, very much alive. 

S'vala held her tongue, however, this scene encouraged her. She had made the right decision. Staring at the short man's back, her mostly dormant heart began to flutter. The deterrent factor alone of such a technique was astounding. Not even death warriors were safe from interrogation. And when the leaders of other factions were caught? This was what awaited them. Sharing footage of this to those who needed to know would be all she needed to secure her position as Shadow Matron. 

After securing the prisoner S'vala had taken her to a discreet holding cell beneath a large tree in the middle of nowhere. 

The captured assassin sat beneath a single white lamp, her wrists bound to a ring in the metal table. Pale blood stained the shoulder of her black infiltration suit, but the wound was shallow, S’vala had placed it there deliberately after Yon had brought the agent back to life. 

Pain made people desperate, and was a tool she oft employed. 

Yon stood beyond the light, nearly invisible in the darkness. Meanwhile, S’vala sat across from the prisoner with a neutral expression on her face. 

“You bypassed three alarms, poisoned the building’s ventilation controls, and carried ammunition designed to penetrate my cloak. Impressive.”

The assassin smiled faintly. “Perhaps you should purchase a better cloak.”

S’vala ignored the provocation, and placed three objects upon the table: a flattened dart, a miniature slicing spike, and a silver button taken from the woman’s coat. Each one innocuous upon first inspection, but lethal when placed in the right hands. 

“Who trained you?” S'vala asked, only to be met with silence. 

Yon stepped forward, and the light refracted around him, making the shadows in the room bend towards him as if they were bowing towards their sovereign. Upon each breath of his they would undulate in place, like a spider web being strung by a frantic bug trapped in its embrace. 

The prisoner’s pupils contracted, unable to hide her primal fear of the unknown. Until that moment, the woman’s fear had been controlled. Her shoulders remained loose, her breathing steady, her gaze direct. Yon’s appearance had broken that rhythm. 

Yon closed his eyes, and reached into the Force. He did not seize her mind. A crude intrusion would only produce panic, confusion, and might damage what he was looking for. Upon his delicate touch sensations and fragments of memories entered his vision. 

A perfume of moon-orchid, a white mask covered in silver thread, and the clicking of long nails patterned with a unique polish weaving a beautiful gown. 

Yon opened his eyes, and nodded towards his wife to be. 

“Moon-orchid perfume, a white mask, and star sparkle nail polish weaving a wonderful article of clothing, does this mean anything to you?” He asked. 

The assassin went rigid, and S’vala smiled. “It appears the Fashionista does not wish for this alliance to bear fruit.” 

“This proves nothing. To act blatantly against one faction…everyone will turn against you.” The assassin confidently stated, attempting to bluff her captors. 

“You carried a disposable cipher keyed to an obsolete trading protocol.” S'vala clucked her tongue, waving the little button. “That suggests the merchants were involved. But your poison came from a military laboratory, while your access codes originated within the fashion district’s private security network. Three separate channels. No professional handler would leave such an obvious trail unless each supplier believed it served a different operation.”

“You cannot-” 

“And where is she now?” S’vala confidently interrupted the agent. “My friend here can bring you back as many times as needed, you know what tortures I am capable of, but can only imagine what he can do.” 

The assassin hesitated, and Yon’s shadow lengthened across the table.

“The Glass Palace. The Fashionista is residing on the top floor. But she knows I failed. She’ll be gone before dawn.”

S’vala rose and gathered the evidence as well as the recording of her interrogation feeling rather satisfied with this alliance. 

Yon, meanwhile, glanced at the Umbaran with hidden disgust. He knew he was being used, but would not undermine his Master's plan. In war, sacrifices were commonplace. If his chastity must be bargained for to secure an entire planet filled with elites, saboteurs, and spies, then he would do his duty. 

For the Order. For his Master. 

~~~~~

AN: I can see Yon's new waifu has mixed reviews. I'll be limiting her screen time going forward, but she does have one Yon specific chapter next ch.