The arrival of his former Consul had shocked Andrelious. His first thought had not been on the mission that Marick had assigned him, but to give chase and inform Taldryan’s Elders about the incursion. The Warlord quickly ruled this out, however. He knew Marick well enough to know that the Hapan was probably already halfway back to the Dajorra system.
Ordering another drink, the ex-Imperial studied the information that Marick had given him. It had been a while since he had been contracted by the Bureau, but he was delighted when the call had come. In his days serving Arcona, he had earned a reputation as one of the more reliable contractors, with successes ranging from taking on a Star Destroyer, to successfully apprehending an ex-DIA agent.
Another frakking Zeltron! As if I didn’t see enough of them last time! Andrelious mused, remembering that his previous contract had taken him to Zeltros. The planet’s lifestyle had been a little difficult for the Warlord to get used to, but this time, he had a different destination. Kuat would be a little more subdued, especially given its status as an older, richer core world.
Tapping away at his datapad, Andrelious sent several messages. First, he contacted Kooki, telling her what little information he could without giving away what he was doing. His wife replied almost instantly, wishing him luck in a way that showed she had already half figured it out. The next message requested that a ship be prepared. Usually the Warlord would fly directly to the destination world himself, but he felt that Kuat would pay far too much attention to the fact his ship was of Imperial design. Instead, he had a different destination in mind. With a brief pause, Andrelious sent a third and final message.
It was time to visit home.
Having travelled via Corellia, Andrelious sat in the cockpit of his mother’s old Lambda-class Shuttle, Stardust. The ship had seen far better days, and had even been grounded for many years. However, on a rare visit to his parents, the Warlord had happened to take Saskia along. The Cirran female had been almost totally disinterested in meeting her paternal grandparents, but had taken an immediate interest in the near derelict ship. Within hours, she had impressed not only Andrelious, but also his parents, by completely restoring Stardust to a nearly new condition. A couple of its laser cannons were a little less accurate, and it wasn’t quite as fast through hyperspace as it once was, but the ship worked again.
Andrelious had chosen to borrow his mother’s ship to avoid too much attention from Kuat’s authorities. Licon Inahj rarely flew anymore, having long retired from anything that required such an activity, so Stardust rarely left the Corellian system. It hadn’t taken much persuasion on Andrelious’ part to take the ship, but he’d had to promise that it would return in one piece.
The Warlord was in the middle of a long queue of ships waiting to land on Kuat’s surface. He began to drum his fingers impatiently on the control panel as a small ship crewed by a Wookiee and a Rodian argued their case with the system’s authorities. The alien chatter was incomprehensible to Andrelious, but even he could tell that they were growing more and more angry.
“Stardust to traffic control. I’m supposed to meet my passenger in five minutes. She doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Andrelious radioed. Time was not on his side: if he did not intercept Corso before her ship was ready, she would be long gone, and almost impossible to find.
“Hold position, Stardust. We’ll be with you shortly. Please transmit your ship’s manifest,” crackled a reply. The Warlord did so, knowing that the ship’s registration lay with his father’s company. Inahj Intergalactic were still, as far as Andrelious knew, a perfectly legit company. As far as Kuat were concerned, Stardust was simply here to pick a passenger up.
Continuing to wait, Andrelious watched as the ship carrying the two angry aliens was doused with ion cannon fire. Moments later, a troop transport launched from a nearby Nebulon-B Frigate. The rest of the queue, Andrelious included, were ordered to ignore what was going on and proceed. The Taldryanite was pleased: a distraction like that made it even more certain that his story would pass unchecked.
The next three ships passed through without trouble, and so, too, did Andrelious. It took a few tentative moments whilst the Kuat authorities verified the legitimacy of his father’s company, and a few more when it turned out that Stardust was registered as having not been seen for many years. Fortunately, nothing was found out of the place and the Sith was allowed to land.
That’s one headache avoided, Andrelious thought as his ship broke the atmosphere.
Kuat City, Kuat[/B]
Having disembarked from the shuttle, Andrelious quickly took stock. He had been directed to a quieter landing pad, but the Sith had already discovered that ‘quieter’ was extremely relative. People, mostly Humans, milled all around him, all buried in their own lives enough that they almost did not notice the short, stumpy new arrival.
The Warlord probed a few nearby minds, on the off chance that one of them knew Aria Corso, but found nothing he could use. Cursing under his breath, he moved to leave, but found his way barred by a tall, heavy set man dressed in the uniform of a spaceport official.
“Welcome to Kuat, sir. Are you carrying any weapons?” the man questioned.
Andrelious waved his hand in the direction of the Kuati. “You don’t need to know if I’m carrying any weapons,”
“I don’t need to know if you’re carrying any weapons,” the official copied.
“I can proceed onto the planet,” the Taldryanite continued.
“You can proceed onto the planet,” the taller male replied, waving his hand in a ‘move along’ gesture.
Andrelious complied, pretending that he was a little intimidated by the man. He began to wander away from the landing area, pushing his way through the rather dense crowd of people that were making use of Kuat’s main spaceport. The Warlord examined everyone that came close, looking for a hint of his target. He focused on what people were doing and saying, but couldn’t find anything remotely related to any Zeltron, let alone Corso. If she was still here, Andrelious would need to look a little harder. As it was, he decided to put his search on hold for a few minutes. He was passing by a cantina.
Sat alone at a small table near the door, Andrelious continued to watch people come in and out as he enjoyed a cold Ebla beer. He hadn’t dared to show the bartender the picture he had of Corso; even if he had heard of the Zeltron, it was likely that her mercenary protectors would have threatened him into silence, or, worse, that he’d turn Andrelious in.
As the Warlord finished his drink, he began to make his way to the bar to order another when a man dressed in coveralls barged past, not bothering to excuse himself or apologise. Andrelious went to give chase, furious.
“The usual please, Jassek. That Zeltron bitch is really pushing us hard today!” the man stated, slamming some credits down on the bar.
The word ‘Zeltron’ was enough to pique Andrelious’ interest. He filed into the crowd, praying that the man was indeed working on Corso’s new ship.
“I thought you told me that she just needed to inspect it,” the bartender said, handing the mechanic a bottle of some kind of green substance.
“Even that’s been a headache! Those frakking mercs insist on making sure everything is very, very safe. We’ve had to strip out half of the inside just in case someone hides in there,” the mechanic answered.
That’s pretty clear cut. Corso’s protection detail aren’t taking any chances. This is going to be tricky. Andrelious thought.
The mechanic finished his drink with a large swig. The Sith watched as he turned to leave. Andrelious decided he had to follow. His target was being careful: he wasn’t likely to get another lead.
Slipping out right behind his mark, Andrelious readied himself. It was time to find Aria Corso.
Although not usually an expert at trailing people, Andrelious stuck to the mechanic like a mynock to a power cable. He kept far enough back that he could duck into a crowd if his prey became suspicious, yet close enough to make sure he didn’t lose the trail. Eventually, the mechanic slowed a little, before turning into a small corridor that lead to one of the spaceport’s smaller, more private landing pads. At the far end of the corridor, a Human and a Twi’lek stood either side of the double doors, each holding a blaster. The Warlord took stock as the mechanic spoke to the Human. He suspected that the two guards, if they were indeed in the pay of the Hutt Cartel, would be decent shots, perhaps even to military levels of precision.
Curse the ACB and its no saber rules, Andrelious mused. With lightsaber use out of the question, the Sith carried just a pair of old E-11 Blasters. They were accurate enough, especially in his hands, but he doubted that they’d be enough in this situation. He had to try something a little less conventional.
Watching as the mechanic he had followed was allowed past the double doors, Andrelious checked to make sure that his two blasters were still hidden in holsters under his full length jacket. Once he was satisfied that they were concealed, the Taldryanite wandered over to the two guards.
“Halt! This is private property!” the Twi’lek stated, pointing his blaster, a DL-44, directly at Andrelious. His Human friend followed suit moments later, saying nothing. The Warlord casually raised his hands.
“Seems I’ve taken a wrong turn. My apologies,” Andrelious said.
The Human guard sneered. “You got that right, shorty. At least I’ll finally get to kill something,”
“Surely you’re not going to shoot an unarmed man,” Mimosa-Inahj replied, trying to feign fear. He began to caress the two guards’ minds with the Force, willing them to disarm themselves.
“He’s right, Grat. Stand down!” the Twi’lek ordered, throwing his DL-44 to the floor. ‘Grat’ shrugged, doing the same.
“Big mistake,” Andrelious spat, extracting one of his E-11s from inside his jacket. Firing at the Human first, the Warlord shot between the man’s eyes, killing him instantly. The Twi’lek made a run for his discarded blaster, but the Sith was far too quick. He aimed his shot at the alien’s right leg, leaving him writhing on the ground in agony as the superheated plasma burned powerfully through clothing and flesh alike.
Andrelious knelt next to the wounded Twi’lek, who was yelling insults at the Warlord in his own language. The Sith grabbed the damaged leg, ordering the Force to start repairing the damage. With his other hand, he aimed his E-11 at the alien’s head.
“Help me and I will let you live. Call that mechanic you just let in back here. Now,” the Taldryanite ordered.
“Never!” the Twi’lek hissed, aiming a kick at Andrelious with his uninjured leg. The Warlord easily dodged the rather clumsy attack, his well-tuned instincts telling him it was coming even before the alien had begun to move.
“Your courage exceeds your wisdom. No wonder most of your sad little species are slaves!” Andrelious snarled. The Twi’lek chose to respond by spitting in the Sith’s face.
“You’ve just sealed your own fate. And you’re still going to do as I ask!” the Sith hissed.
The alien remained defiant. “No. I will die first!” he spat.
Andrelious chuckled. “You’re a weak minded fool. I have ways of dealing with your kind,” he stated, beginning to wave his hand. Again, he started to use the Force to tamper with the Twi’lek’s thoughts. “You will do as I asked you,”
“I will do as you asked me,” the Twi’lek mimicked, pulling out his comlink. “Spreck. Get out here now.”
“Good little alien. Goodbye,” Andrelious declared coldly, pressing his blaster to the guard’s throat and squeezing the trigger. He had aimed the shot in such a way that the Twi’lek would slowly and silently suffocate to death. The Warlord watched, smiling darkly.
The double doors hissed open. The mechanic wandered through, immediately seeing the two guards were out of position. Andrelious willed the doors closed with the Force, preventing any escape.
“Let’s hope you’re a little more cooperative than your Twi’lek friend,” the Sith spat.
Aria Corso stood on the outside of her ship, arms crossed impatiently.
“Can we please get going soon? This planet’s nowhere near fun enough for a girl like me,” the crimson skinned female stated, unable to hide a smile as she addressed the Captain of her mercenary protectors. Corso had become incredibly familiar with several of her detail as she demonstrated the typically Zeltron behaviour of partying hard. That such relations were considered unprofessional in the mercenary trade didn’t appear to bother her: she had her fun and that was all that mattered.
“Soon. Once Spreck has double checked the modifications made to the hyperdrive and navicomp, we’re good to go. Or did you want to risk going with a bang?” the mercenary replied, returning the smile.
Aria laughed. “You know me too well, honey.”
Corso’s new ship was a modified Delta-class JV-7, better known as an ‘Escort’ shuttle. The design was fairly old, having been developed in the days of the Empire, but was surprisingly easy to modify. The ship now had a new sublight engine, allowing it to outrun the latest model of TIE, slightly stronger shields, and an ion cannon in addition to its already fairly strong armament of lasers. The modification that the Zeltron had been most insistent on, however, had been a new navigational computer. This particular model not only made no record of what coordinates the ship entered and exited hyperspace, but also didn’t display them to its operator. In Corso’s line of work, hiding where she was going was paramount. Additionally, the hyperdrive had been modified to take a planet’s gravity wells into account far less, allowing Corso to jump to and from lightspeed at margins most would consider unsafe.
“Where did Spreck go, anyway?” a mechanic questioned, having noticed his colleague’s disappearance.
“He came back from his lunch. Went away again. Perhaps he can’t handle his drink,” the Zeltron laughed.
“You want me to do WHAT? Why?” Spreck questioned, staring down the barrel of Andrelious’ E-11.
“My reasons aren’t of consequence to you. Just do as I say and I can make sure you will never need to work again,” the Warlord answered.
The mechanic frowned. “So let me get this straight. You’ll pay me thousands of credits, just to modify the navicomp of my client’s ship so that it jumps to coordinates you specified? How do I know she won’t come looking for me?”
Spreck was a middle-aged male, similar in age to Andrelious. Like the Sith, his once jet black hair was starting to lose its colour. That was all they had in common: Spreck was far taller, and sported a thick, also greying beard. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, mulling over what the Warlord had proposed.
“If you perform this task properly, Corso will NOT bother you again. You have my word on that,” Andrelious stated, becoming quite irritated with the man’s questions.
“Alright. But I expect payment the moment she leaves. If things do go wrong, I need to get a long, long way from here. I also need a little time to find some software that will let me override the navicomp. Give me an hour,” Spreck replied.
The Warlord smirked. “I don’t need to give you an hour. I have something that will do the job right here,” he declared, handing a non-descript datapad to Spreck.
Spreck made his was unceremoniously to the cockpit of Corso’s ship. He nodded at mercenaries and colleagues alike, hoping that nobody would twig what he was doing. Inside the cockpit, Aria Corso had taken her seat, and was relaxing, her feet up on a nearby console, with a large glass of Corellian brandy. She was wearing an earpiece comlink, idly listening into the chatter among her guard detail.
“Is this the final check now?” the Zeltron questioned, playing with her hair as she addressed Spreck. The mechanic found himself blushing a little.
“Just this check, Miss Corso, and you can be on your way,” Spreck explained, hooking the datapad he had been given to the navicomp. He tapped several commands in to activate the software that Andrelious had described. With little to no ceremony, the datapad began its task, slicing straight into the navicomp. Moments later, it confirmed its task was done. The next hyperjump would be overridden to preset coordinates. Spreck had hoped that the coordinates would be specified on screen, but he wasn’t too surprised to discover they were not. Whoever had coded the software had been incredibly careful to hide not only what they were doing, but who they were.
“Will it take long? I could entertain you while we wait?” Corso stated, narrowing her eyes flirtatiously.
Spreck was about to reply when he heard the female’s earpiece buzzing with the sound of furious communication.
“What? Dead? Are you sure? How?” the Zeltron queried, her voice far more panicked.
Guess they’ve discovered what happened outside. I’d best get out of here the mechanic thought to himself.
“I’m all done here. Enjoy your ship, Miss Corso,” Spreck declared. Detaching the datapad, the Human turned to leave, only to notice several of the mercenaries boarding the shuttle.
“We’re getting out of here, Aria. Now!” the Captain ordered, leaping into the pilot’s seat.
As soon as he had finished his ‘negotations’ with Spreck, Andrelious rushed back to his ship. He stopped only briefly, to order a bottle of Ebla beer from the cantina he had entered previously.
Taking a large swig from the bottle as he launched Stardust, the Warlord smiled.
If all went to plan, he’d soon meet with Aria Corso.
The security breach had alarmed Aria Corso and her mercenary detail. The two men that had been put on guard duty outside the Zeltron’s privately hired hangar had been killed, apparently without witnesses. A quick examination of the two dead bodies hadn’t discovered much of use, only that they had been killed by blaster fire. The Twi’lek in particular had appeared to suffer, sporting a gaping burn in his throat, but his Human companion seemed to get away with a quicker, less painful death. A detailed check hadn’t been possible: the Hutt’s orders were clear. Any threat to Corso meant it was time to move on.
The one lead that the mercenaries had was that Spreck, the mechanic, had been called out by one of the guards before they had died. Spreck had been particularly keen to leave, but was instead detained. His colleagues had quickly fled when the alarm was raised, leaving the Kuati alone with a group that would just as soon kill him as talk to him. So far he had been fairly well treated to the point that he was beginning to regret having complied with the strange man that he had met before, but there had been something about that man that had made his offers sound incredibly convincing. Now, of course, any chance of receiving any kind of payment looked increasingly unlikely. He sat in one of the cockpit’s rear seats, staring sadly at the blue swirls of hyperspace.
“Don’t worry, Spreck, honey. Once things are safe, I’ll arrange for safe transport for you to get home,” Aria said warmly.
“That’s assuming he doesn’t know anything about what happened back on Kuat. I lost two of my men. Someone is going to pay!” the mercenary Captain snarled.
The Zeltron smiled. “I’m sure he had nothing to do with it. Men with beards are always so trustworthy,”
A buzzing sound emitted from one of the cockpit’s instruments. Everyone aboard was well travelled enough to know what that meant: their hyperjump had reached its destination. Corso had ordered the team back to Hutt space to allow things to blow over a little.
“You ever been to Hutt space before?” one of the mercenaries asked Spreck as the ship jolted a little on exiting hyperspace. The exit was a little more bumpy than usual, suggesting that the hyperdrive’s inertial dampers had been damaged during the ship’s extensive modifications.
“Aria! We’ve got a problem!” the Captain yelled.
The red skinned woman stared out of the transparisteel windows, trying to figure out exactly what was wrong. It was then that she saw a capital ship of an unfamiliar design looming large.
“This isn’t Hutt space! What’s going on? Where are we?” Corso demanded.
“Whatever that ship is, they’ve locked a tractor beam on us!” the Captain complained, fighting hard with the controls. Despite his best efforts, the shuttle continued to edge towards the large ship.
“Whoever they are, they’re probably not expecting a fight! Everyone get ready! It’s party time!” the Zeltron ordered, grabbing a blaster from a nearby rack.
Cotelin-class Star Destroyer Justice
“Right. When our target lands, she and her men are going to try and take us all out. Don’t waste time with prisoners. Shoot to kill,” Andrelious ordered. He had been back in Taldryan space for a matter of minutes, but wasted no time in requesting the assistance of the Justice in dealing with Corso. Dealing with her on his Clan’s flagship offered the tactical advantage that the Warlord could make sure the Zeltron wouldn’t be able to give him the slip, and also gave him the backup of Taldryan’s army. Two dozen soldiers, mostly light infantry, provided that backup, greatly reducing the risk that the contract had posed. It was perhaps against the ACB’s guidelines, but Mimosa-Inahj had omitted that he was working for the Bureau when he explained just why Aria Corso needed to be killed.
The shuttle landed amid a chorus of klaxons. Andrelious quickly flicked a switch, closing the hangar bay doors, before waving the last of his men into position. The soldiers complied a little begrudgingly: they still saw Andrelious more as an Arconan enemy than as one of their own Sith masters.
For the next few moments, a relative calm descended. The shuttle’s occupants appeared just fine to sit tight, but so too did the Taldryanites.
Come on, Corso. Get your crimson backside out here. Andrelious thought to himself, pointing his E-11 directly at the captured ship’s entry hatch. He had his lightsaber back, having left it behind during his trip to Kuat, but elected not to use it, knowing that the Bureau’s staff greatly disapproved of lightsaber kills.
Slowly, the shuttle’s hatch began to slide open. Mimosa-Inahj gripped his blaster more tightly than ever, determined to pick off Corso himself. Immediately, two small silver objects were hurled from the ship, and started to fill the area with thick smoke.
Peering through the acrid cloud as best they could, the Taldryan soldiers began firing their blasters, ducking behind boxes of cargo and other makeshift covers between shots. Hyphens of plasma shot back and forth as Corso and her men poured out of the ship, using the smokescreen to quickly move into nearby points of cover. A couple of the mercenaries threw grenades in the direction of their enemies, before being cut down by accurate fire. Their grenades detonated moments later, dragging several Taldryanites away from the mortal coil.
The fire fight quickly grew in intensity until it had engulfed the entire hangar. Repair droids fussed about, trying to fix the numerous scorch marks that had begun to adorn the floor. Andrelious focused solely on his Zeltron target, relying entirely on his soldiers to pick off anyone who targeted him. Corso had taken refuge behind a large cargo container, but had proven good enough with a blaster that the Warlord couldn’t close her down without risking a serious injury. Realising this, Andrelious switched tactics, joining his men in attempting to whittle down the numbers of enemies. A quick scan of the battle zone revealed things were not going as well as he’d have liked. Roughly three quarters of the mercenaries had been either killed or left unable to continue fighting, but so too had half of the Taldryan soldiers.
Aria Corso cursed as she found herself pinned down. She wondered just how this had happened. Normally, her mercenary allies made sure she was careful with whom she associated with, even to the point that they would clash with the Zeltron over her choice of ‘dance partners’. Even on Kuat, each and every individual that had been anywhere near her had been thoroughly checked.
Meanwhile, things had begun to calm down as the number of active fighters in the hangar continued to reduce. The mercenary Captain appeared to be the last remaining enemy, aside from Corso herself, but he continued to trouble the three remaining soldiers, moving from refuge to refuge to prevent anyone from drawing a bead on him. Pointing his blaster in the direction of the nearest soldier, the Captain squeezed the trigger, but his weapon didn’t fire: its power cell was exhausted. Ducking behind a nearby crate, the mercenary removed the spent cell, extracting a new one from a pocket on his cargo trousers.
Andrelious sensed that the Captain had taken his eyes off the battle. He had no line of fire, but noticed that the Captain had stopped directly below a cargo crane that was holding a large container in its pincers. Smiling darkly, Andrelious manipulated the pincers with the Force. The container immediately dropped, crushing the Captain in moments. The man hadn’t even had time to spot his impending doom. Aria Corso, however, saw it all and realised exactly what was going on.
“So. You’re some kind of Jedi midget?” the Zeltron yelled.
“No Jedi here!” Andrelious called back, waving to his men to stand down. He wanted Corso’s kill for himself.
Corso moved out of her hiding place with a swagger, smiling across the corridor at the Sith. She approached, her movements deliberately trying to attract Andrelious’ attention. With the fire fight having come to an end, the Warlord finally got a proper look at his target. As was typical with her species, Aria’s clothing and makeup were designed both to make her noticed, and yet also harmless.
“I’m sure you and I could come to some kind of arrangement?” Corso questioned, twirling a lock of her hair.
Andrelious looked unimpressed. “That’s not going to work, Miss Corso. I’m already in a much more pleasant arrangement,” he replied, tapping his wedding ring.
The Zeltron pointed her blaster threateningly at the Warlord. Andrelious followed suit, the barrels of their weapons only inches apart.
Mimosa-Inahj glared at his target, who tried her best to manage a venomous look of her own.
“One last chance, honey. Let me go and no-one else has to get hurt,” Corso warned.
“I am sorry, Miss Corso. You don’t threaten a Sith and live,” Andrelious hissed, raising his free arm. With an aggressive flick of the wrist, the Warlord hurled the alien into the cargo crate that had fallen on the Captain, smirking when he heard the crack of bones breaking.
Aria, though hurt, was still able to fire her blaster. The quickness of the shot greatly reduced her aim. She missed Andrelious by a large margin, but the plasma bolt continued onwards, towards her ship. Right as it was about to slam harmlessly into the shuttle’s hull, a tall, bearded man exited.
Spreck, having grown too curious to obey the command he’d been given to stay inside, was hit in the chest. The shot had lost a little of its power, but the mechanic nonetheless fell straight to the ground, struggling for breath.
Meanwhile, Andrelious had moved over to the injured Zeltron. Gone were the flirtatious looks of a lady trying to sleep her way out of trouble. Instead, Aria Corso was a picture of wounded fury. As Mimosa-Inahj came close, the alien fired her blaster, rotating it through a large angle so as to create a deadly arc of plasma. Andrelious, having had the Force scream a warning as to what Corso was planning, held back.
Readying herself to fire a second arc, Aria felt as if her blaster was being tugged away from her. She pulled the weapon towards herself, but the invisible fingers that had wrapped themselves around the blaster’s barrel yanked even harder, to the point that they began to pull on the Zeltron, too. Letting go, Corso watched as her weapon zipped towards Andrelious. The Warlord was armed with his own blaster, allowing the one he had just confiscated to fly past and land somewhere behind him.
“Sir! You can’t shoot her! She’s unarmed!” A soldier yelled, having watched the conflict.
“My contract is clear, Private. I intend to complete it,” Andrelious responded, approaching Corso.
“If you think I’ll beg for my life, Sith, you’ve another think coming,” the Zeltron stated.
Andrelious smirked. “At least you’ve figured out that I’m not a frakking Jedi. Goodbye, Miss Corso.”
As the Warlord began to squeeze the trigger, Aria pulled a knife from one of her high-heeled boots. With a growl, she drove the knife into the Sith’s stomach. Andrelious managed to fire his weapon, its payload slamming into Corso from such close range that the crimson skinned woman didn’t stand a chance. However, with her last movements, she had stabbed the Taldryanite. Falling to the ground himself, Andrelious found himself beginning to black out. He yelled at the Force, demanding it help him, but was out cold before it could reply.
His mission was complete, but Andrelious J. Mimosa-Inahj was in serious trouble.
Andrelious came to to the sound of the beeping of a heart monitor. He tried to sit up, but found himself unable to move his lower body.
“You’ll get movement back soon, babe. That knife was covered in some kind of paralysing poison. Probably something that Corso had in mind when she was about to be taken out. Luckily for you, the doctors say that the Force will purge its effects,” Kooki stated, smiling down at her husband. The couple’s twins, Poppy and Etty, cooed at each other from a nearby playmat.
“Resourceful until the end. She could almost have been one of us,” Andrelious replied. “Do I still need to inform Marick?”
Kooki shook her head. “All sorted, babe. All you need to worry about is getting moving again,”
“With your support, I will,” the Warlord answered, smiling warmly.
“Support? I mean, now you’re done, it’s MY turn to have some fun. I leave tonight. I hope you’re moving by then,” the Alderaanian teased.
Andrelious kept on smiling.