said, removing her mask, “on what you tell me. And how quickly you tell it .”
The remains of the Togorian oozed untouched on the temple floor. Daiman donned his cape, unconcerned; the generals parted to let him pass. “You will deploy to Gazzari in four days,” he resumed. “More vessels will arrive. Remain in your positions. You will not disturb them.” With a wave of his hand, more holograms appeared, depicting several ships.
Rusher studied them. There were four personnel transports, each labeled with the corporate logo of Industrial Heuristics, and a much larger structure. A floating cluster of connected towers, the city-in-miniature also bore the climbing-arrow logo that symbolized the “manufacturer of intellects.” He’d heard of the firm, back when working in Bactra’s territory. A few on his crew had even learned their trades there. “An arxeum,” he spoke aloud. “Some kind of war college, isn’t it?”
“And our personnel to be trained within it. They willarrive first, before the facility. And, then,” Daiman said confidently, “Odion will arrive.”
Rusher flinched. Why?
“He will come to destroy the facility Bactra sends. Or he will try. He will certainly know of it.” Daiman didn’t say how. “And he will know we are sending our bright young prospects there to meet it. Industrial Heuristics has been recruiting openly on Darkknell for days—and my brother is known to have spies here,” Daiman said, waving offhandedly toward the entrance. “You met one as you entered.”
“You’re using the training center as bait,” Rusher said, looking down at his walking stick. The knob atop it glinted as he twirled it in place. “And … the students .”
“Yes.” Daiman returned to the center of the room. “He will not attack when the facilities are in Bactra’s hands. He’ll wait until the delivery is made, so the loss will impact me and not Bactra.”
It was a standard move for Odion, Daiman said, but as ever, he was the better gamesman. “He must see the recruits waiting on the ground to seal the illusion.”
“What do we do if he doesn’t take the b-b-bait?” Mak stammered.
“He will. I have arranged for it.”
Daiman gestured, and a shining staircase descended from the crystal platform at the center of the room. Setting foot upon it, he was interrupted by a statement from behind: “I’m not sure I like this.”
Daiman stopped climbing. “What?”
“I said I’m not sure I like this,” Rusher said, grasping the walking stick more tightly. Spying Mak’s wild expression, he shrugged. No, I don’t know what I’m doing, either . “You’re taking younglings on the battlefield, and you’re expecting them to be taken out.”
“And I’m expecting you to do as you’re told.”Daiman crooked his head slightly in irritation. “Who are you?”
“Brigadier Jarrow Rusher. I carry eight battalions running medium artillery, laser and missile. I’ve worked jobs for you for years,” he said. “But I’m an independent operator—”
Daiman’s response dropped below freezing. “As you’ve just seen, there is no such thing.”
Rusher swallowed. He could feel the Sith Lord’s supplicants glaring at him—and it didn’t help that the other generals were edging out of the way. Some colleagues . “We’re not part of your army, Lord Daiman.”
“That can be corrected,” Daiman said. To one side, the violet-clad Correctors took a step forward. He waved them off. This moment was his. “I created you, Brigadier ,” the young Sith said, raising his metal-tipped hand. “You will function as I desire.”
Yanked by an unseen power, Rusher rose several meters into the air. The walking stick clattered to the marble beneath as Rusher’s gloved hands clutched at his neck, just above his collar. There was nothing there, but he could feel the presence of Daiman’s hand. Even the false fingertips, clawing at the back of his neck. Shaking, Rusher coughed and
The remains of the Togorian oozed untouched on the temple floor. Daiman donned his cape, unconcerned; the generals parted to let him pass. “You will deploy to Gazzari in four days,” he resumed. “More vessels will arrive. Remain in your positions. You will not disturb them.” With a wave of his hand, more holograms appeared, depicting several ships.
Rusher studied them. There were four personnel transports, each labeled with the corporate logo of Industrial Heuristics, and a much larger structure. A floating cluster of connected towers, the city-in-miniature also bore the climbing-arrow logo that symbolized the “manufacturer of intellects.” He’d heard of the firm, back when working in Bactra’s territory. A few on his crew had even learned their trades there. “An arxeum,” he spoke aloud. “Some kind of war college, isn’t it?”
“And our personnel to be trained within it. They willarrive first, before the facility. And, then,” Daiman said confidently, “Odion will arrive.”
Rusher flinched. Why?
“He will come to destroy the facility Bactra sends. Or he will try. He will certainly know of it.” Daiman didn’t say how. “And he will know we are sending our bright young prospects there to meet it. Industrial Heuristics has been recruiting openly on Darkknell for days—and my brother is known to have spies here,” Daiman said, waving offhandedly toward the entrance. “You met one as you entered.”
“You’re using the training center as bait,” Rusher said, looking down at his walking stick. The knob atop it glinted as he twirled it in place. “And … the students .”
“Yes.” Daiman returned to the center of the room. “He will not attack when the facilities are in Bactra’s hands. He’ll wait until the delivery is made, so the loss will impact me and not Bactra.”
It was a standard move for Odion, Daiman said, but as ever, he was the better gamesman. “He must see the recruits waiting on the ground to seal the illusion.”
“What do we do if he doesn’t take the b-b-bait?” Mak stammered.
“He will. I have arranged for it.”
Daiman gestured, and a shining staircase descended from the crystal platform at the center of the room. Setting foot upon it, he was interrupted by a statement from behind: “I’m not sure I like this.”
Daiman stopped climbing. “What?”
“I said I’m not sure I like this,” Rusher said, grasping the walking stick more tightly. Spying Mak’s wild expression, he shrugged. No, I don’t know what I’m doing, either . “You’re taking younglings on the battlefield, and you’re expecting them to be taken out.”
“And I’m expecting you to do as you’re told.”Daiman crooked his head slightly in irritation. “Who are you?”
“Brigadier Jarrow Rusher. I carry eight battalions running medium artillery, laser and missile. I’ve worked jobs for you for years,” he said. “But I’m an independent operator—”
Daiman’s response dropped below freezing. “As you’ve just seen, there is no such thing.”
Rusher swallowed. He could feel the Sith Lord’s supplicants glaring at him—and it didn’t help that the other generals were edging out of the way. Some colleagues . “We’re not part of your army, Lord Daiman.”
“That can be corrected,” Daiman said. To one side, the violet-clad Correctors took a step forward. He waved them off. This moment was his. “I created you, Brigadier ,” the young Sith said, raising his metal-tipped hand. “You will function as I desire.”
Yanked by an unseen power, Rusher rose several meters into the air. The walking stick clattered to the marble beneath as Rusher’s gloved hands clutched at his neck, just above his collar. There was nothing there, but he could feel the presence of Daiman’s hand. Even the false fingertips, clawing at the back of his neck. Shaking, Rusher coughed and
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