OOM: The Path to Power, Part Two

(OOC: Some lines taken from canon)

Ibani's thoughts are a jumble when she leaves the meeting with Darth Lachris, the new planetary governor. Lachris' plan offers opportunity, but it will also seriously limit the time she has to accomplish her own Master's task. Thirty-six hours will have to be enough time to prepare, as she's certain Darth Lachris will not allow her to delay her plans or refuse to participate.

Iannos Tyrek speaks the moment the enters the lab, words eager to get out. "So let me get this straight - you kidnapped me away from the Republic so you could go skinny-dipping in a toxic waste pit?!" He sounds equal parts baffled and indignant.

"Even a Sith needs a way to unwind," she replies, tone dry. She should have expected Tyrek would figure out what her goal was, he's a smart man, but she's not going to give him any more information.

He stares at her open mouthed for a moment, then shakes his head as if to clear it. "You're aware that this serum has never been tested on humans, right? I mean, it should work - But it was designed for Colicoids."

"I'm aware of that, Tyrek. I was the one who recovered the formula for the mutagen in the first place."

Tyrek paces, frustrated. "Look, I'm just trying to warn you. This serum could kill you before you even begin, and it might not be the most comfortable of deaths."

That gives Ibani pause. Why give her such a warning? Why should he care what happens to her, his captor? Is it guilt over sabotaging the mutagen that's making him speak? Guilt over what he plans to do when she lets him go? She has to know, has to be sure that her plan of mercy will not result in a slaughter of Imperials.

She eases into the surface of Tyrek's mind, quick as thought, skimming the surface. The idea of tainting the mutagen had occurred to Tyrek, she sees, but he finds the idea of purposefully doing his work wrong repulsive on a bone deep level. Delaying various weapon projects he had been assigned in the past, well, that was a different matter. When your superiors don't really understand your work it's child's play to convince them that you need more tests, more time, that it won't work the way they want it to. But he'll never build a weapon again, not willingly. NEVER.

Ibani is relieved at what she finds, though she's still puzzled why he cares that this could kill her. "It's the best chance on the table at the moment," she replies.

"I don't understand why it's a chance you're willing to take, but I suppose I can't expect to change a Sith's mind."

"No," Ibani replies with a small smile he cannot see through her helm. "How long will it take to complete its....alteration of Khem Val and myself?"

"The genetic alteration should be complete within 24 hours," Tyrek replies. "You'll want a full medbay and a top class medical droid on standby. Even if nothing goes horribly wrong, it will be a terrible strain on your bodies."

"I had expected as much," Ibani replies. So, the transmutation will be completed in time, but there's no telling what shape she will be in when it is over. "You've done good work, Iannos Tyrek."

The scientist exhales a deep breath. "So, what happens now?" he asks. She can taste his anxiety, his fear.

"Now, you may go wherever you please," she replies.

"What? You're not serious. I mean, you're Sith- you can't be serious." The Doctor replies, flabbergasted. "You'll let me go back to the Republic?"

"I promised as much, did I not?" Ibani replies archly.

"I don't know. Things from that day are all kind of fuzzy.....I wasn't sure you would." He shakes his head, rubs his fingers over his forehead. "Look, you know I'll never make it out of here alive. If you're serious, you'll authorize a shuttle out of here for me."

Ibani clicks a button on her holocom, connecting her to transport officer Captain Rollo.

The hologram image of the Captain looks around. "Doctor Tyrek! My Lord! Captain Rollo at your service. What can I do for you?"

Ibani smiles to herself. "Doctor Tyrek requires the service of an Imperial shuttle. Take him wherever he wishes to go, then have the shuttle pilot return here."

"Yes, my Lord, right away."

Tyrek is staring at her again. It's oddly satisfying having a genius gawp at you in shock. "I. Thank you, my lord. You're a strange sort of Sith, but I appreciate it." Tyrek has never addressed her as 'my lord' in all these weeks she's known him, it is an unexpected gesture of respect from someone who wants to work for the Republic. Tyrek coughs nervously. "You know, if you ever want to come over to the other side...."

Ibani may be wearing a helmet, but she manages to communicate the feeling of a raised eyebrow of disapproval anyway.

"Well, thank you, anyway," Tyrek says at last as he departs for his shuttle.

Once the scientist has departed, Ibani acknowledges the puzzled and concerned presence she has felt since she entered the lab, lurking on its edge. "Captain Ilun, you are wondering why I decided to let our scientist go?"

"I would never presume to question you, my Lord," Ilun protests, stepping out of the shadows. Of course he wouldn't, no Imperial officer who reached that rank would be stupid enough to blatantly question any Sith.

"But you are curious, yes?" Ibani asks, tilting her head.

"I, yes, my Lord," he admits at last. Probably because he's certain that denying it would be futile.

Ibani nods, acknowledging his admission. Compassion for a man who's tired of building weapons is only one of the reasons Iannos Tyrek is being allowed to leave this base. "What would you assume, Captain, if a decidedly not combat capable Republic turncoat showed up at this base after being captured by the Republic?"

Captain Ilun thinks a moment, then replies. "That he was allowed to escape, my Lord, that he was a double agent of some kind." Beat. "They won't trust him, Tyrek."

"They would be fools to," Ibani replies. "It will take a long time before they've convinced themselves that he's legitimate, perhaps years, and they won't let him near anything of importance before then."
She glides over to the mutagen, runs her hand over the vials. "His genius is unique, and in a perfect universe we would keep him for the Empire." She steps away from the vials "I have seen his mind, and he will not work for us willingly. It would take breaking his mind to make him....reliable and that would lose us his genius as surely as if he were dead."

"But now the Republic will have that genius, eventually," Ilun offers, tentatively. She's certain if she hadn't been helping them with the Resistance all these weeks, Ilun would not have dared say anything at all in this moment.

"An unfortunate truth, but what the enemy has can be stolen. Let the Republic bear the cost of his work, let them spend the necessary resources while he works on medicine, we will simply steal that knowledge once it's finished."

Khem Val and Ilun are both looking at her in what she suspects is faint surprise. "I do nothing without reason," she replies. "And all of that presumes he manages to make it off of this planet within 36 hours, which is unlikely."

"36 hours, my Lord?" Ilun asks. "Why 36 hours?"

"Because Darth Lachris has decreed that the assault on the Balmorran Arms Factory complex begins in 36 hours, wherein we will break the neck of the so called Balmorran Resistance."

She turns, the fabric in her armor swishing out dramatically. "I have been given the honor of leading the way in, infiltrating the complex, and destroying the defenses keeping our forces at bay." Personally, Ibani feels this isn't an 'honor' at all. No, Darth Lachris just doesn't want to risk HER neck infiltrating a very heavily armed fortress that has kept the Empire out for 11 years. Plus, of course, if the assault fails Darth Lachris will have Ibani to redirect any blame to. Karking Sith.

Ilun smiles at that and salutes. "I can think of no one better to do such a task, my Lord" he replies. He actually MEANS that, Ibani can feel. It's both flattering and terrifying all at once to have so much faith placed in her.

"But first, I shall require the services of the med bay and the best medical droid we have available."

"Of course, my lord! We will do our utmost to supply you with anything you need."

OOM: Transmutation

It feels strange, being without her armor, but the medical droid needs readier access to her body than her armor will allow. She glances over at Khem Val, but if he is anxious about the mutagen being injected into his body he does not show it.

Soon, it is her turn. Ibani watches the green serum being injected into her arm, knows that her body will try and fight off the invader. The best she can do here is endure whatever comes, a humbling thought. It is perhaps an hour later when she first notices the pain, the fever and the chills that leave her shivering on the cot. She believes it is going to get much worse, she is not wrong.

Time passes and agony arrives. Shards of glass crawl inside her veins, the world feels broiling hot and freezing cold by turns. She can feel her muscles tremble and then contract against her will. It is getting harder and harder to form sentences, even inside her own head.

She's dimly aware of frantic beeping from the machines she's hooked up to, dimly aware that the medical droid is working on her body as fast as it can. With great effort, she turns her head to look at it. It speaks, but the words are all run together gibberish. She feels so very, very tired.

She opens her eyes and she SEES.

This is not a place that ever sees the sky, the richer dwellings far above block it out entirely. This is a warren, a slum, a place where the desperate and the lost wash up on the shores of life. The neon lights are garish against the dark, advertising every possible vice. Whispers follow her as she stalks down the street, enters a meeting place. There are people waiting, armed with guns and blades, but she knows the ground will quake at her command and they will falter.

Sand stings against her skin as the light of two suns beats down upon everything below. A black man stands, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. A large tattoo stretches across one side of his face and the two blasters on his hip appear well used. Revenge has kept him alive, kept him going when all else was gone. It burns in him as it has in no other non Force sensitive she's ever met.

Even scarred by civil war it is still a beautiful world. She clings to her seat on the back of a great beast shaped like a manta ray as it glides through the sky. The King's House will owe her a great deal once this is all over.

She holds a lightsaber in her hand, its curved form resting easily in her palm. The blade is a clear, strong violet as she moves through an old, familiar form. It is like finding a missing piece of herself.

A tomb, a sense of terrible dark power, a scream of frustrated rage.

And then there is nothing at all.