Tarses' Game: First Move

Posted on Wed Feb 17th, 2021 @ 6:06pm by Kalen "Rex" Vickers & Amare & Mentis & Valavai Tarses

1,843 words; about a 9 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Medical Facility, Bastion
Timeline: Day Two, Week Four (Continuing on from "Stirrings and Strife")

OLD

"I am Valavai Tarses, the Grand Moff of Bastion. I must admit, I have seen a number of clandestine attempts to infiltrate this world we proudly call home, but none so bold and reckless as this, especially from the Jedi. Strange, I did not realize your Order would stoop so low as to employ a Mandalorian to assist you. My...how times have changed."

Seemingly on cue, the secondary blast doors closed and sealed the group in once again. They were playing Tarses' game now.

NEW

Trapped once again, those present in the room drew closer to the com projection of this Grand Moff Tarses. Mentis kept his blade drawn and though ready as though to strike through the shimmering blue image, while the others kept an equally wary stance.

"Grand Moff?" Mentis questioned, "I don't know Imperial ranking, but I presume you are the one who had us confined here. You should know that we did not enter Bastion space to infiltrate you..."

Mentis made a gentle wave in the air with his left hand, making a suggestion through the Force, "We should be allowed to leave immediately."

For but a glancing moment, Tarses appeared dumbfounded by Mentis' Force-empowered order. The old man blinked in astonishment, then answered, "Yes...an interesting request, one I should take under advisement..." Then the corner of Tarses lips curled into a wry smile, his eyes narrowing with pride that he still held the upper hand, "...if my title was Chancellor of the Republic, that is."

"You see, son," Tarses continued, "you misunderstand the way we conduct business here. It is not within my power to grant you freedom. This uniform, the facility you stand in, the very soil of this world, all represent the one absolute thing we deal in: order. Look into your heart and see the truth for yourself. There are only those that rule, and those who wish to be ruled. Freedom is just a naïve delusion. Perhaps if you survive the day, then you'll come to understand that in time. So, in the spirit of order, I will you ask you a question, and you will respectfully give me an answer. One question. One answer. If I don't get the answer that I like, then we'll have a problem. And if we have a problem, then you'll have a problem. That said, answer me this: "Why exactly are you here?"

Amare, despite being perturbed by the Grand Moff's threat and knowledge of her past, was fascinated by his calm yet commanding disposition, deep voice laced heavily with confidence, and willpower to resist an attempted mind trick. She had intended to answer on the group's behalf, but she noticed that Tarses' eyes were fixed on the tattooed Ratattaki. It was a clear man-to-man challenge, and she understood male Human nature enough to know not to intervene. She turned to her companion, curious how a former slave of Axion would respond to the direct question of a supreme authority figure.

Mentis scowled, feeling the pain Amare had caused within his scar as his facial muscles tensed, “Seems that information is what is keeping us from an unfortunate fate, Moff Tarses, so you’ll understand if I’m a bit cautious about our reason for being here. But, for what it’s worth, we’re not with the Republic you referred to, or any other government agencies looking to subvert your control over this chunk of the Galaxy. We’re just trying to find some answers.”

Rex had holstered his pilfered weapon, his preferred armoury kept hidden on the Raptor. Unlike the Force-wielding companions he travelled with, the former smuggler had no specific requirement for any one individual weapon, albeit he was likely already missing his blaster Cindra, only recently repaired as it was.

Most likely by design, he had taken a slight step back and was doing his best to appear tertiary to the rest of the group. Mercifully for Rex, just as Amare had noted (despite the alarming amount of detail this grand moff possessed about her), Tarses seemed much more interested in Mentis, perhaps presuming the renegade cultist was their leader.

Whilst that would normally be something that would happily suit Rex, he seemed ill at ease with his pale friend drawing such focus, and his eyes barely deviated from Mentis, only a brief glance offered to the nearby Mandalorian, knowing full well that Sev could attract plenty of his own undue attention, given his heritage, and willing him to not sabotage whatever efforts Mentis might make to safeguard them all.

Tarses turned his steely gaze toward Sev Rezer. "Is that so? Does your search for answers align with this barbarian? It would be unwise to travel further with the likes of him."

Following the Grand Moff's gaze, Mentis looked at the Mandalorian. It was not surprising that the Imperial immediately recognised a member of their long-held enemy faction. Even without his armour, the Human had the gait of a hardened warrior, with that quiet anger that bubbled just below the surface, like a fierce kath hound, ready to burst forth at the slightest provocation.

"Is that so?" Mentis shot his focus back to the holographic Imperial, "Or is it just that he makes you nervous? When was the last time a Mandalorian stood upon your soil?"

"The beskar, man," Rex grumbled in a very hushed tone to Mentis. "Probably got dozens of 'em as slaves."

The main doors into the lab suddenly snapped open nearby. "Nerves are for the young," Tarses said, nodding towards the open path. "That's your way out. Your salvation. The one and only path I will allow. You could try to cut yourself a new path with your Jedi weapon, that much is certain. An inefficient tactic to be sure, could take considerable time, but then you would end up facing either a ray shield, an armored blaster turret, or worse. You are all free to leave through that door, but once outside, you must agree to my condition."

"Which is...?" Amare asked, eyes narrowed and greatly disliking being at such a disadvantage and forced to play the old man's game.

"An amusing little exercise of your Republican democracy," Tarses replied with a smirk. "Your group must decide who will be your representative...your champion. Preferably one who is especially gifted in combat. It is my hope you choose a Force-user. The more powerful, the better. Your champion will then face my hand-picked warrior in a duel. Since you have no choice in the matter, I suggest you choose wisely."

Tarses' image then winked out of sight.

"A champion..." Mentis voice trailed off as he stared towards the open doorway opening into a long, empty corridor. If Tarses was truthful, then this was their best way out. The cost of that avenue was that they would be playing on his terms, leaving their fate in the hands of this Human Imperial - a stranger. Reaching out, he could feel the thrum of activity in all other directions apart from the indicated corridor. It was most-likely true that a worse fate would be awaiting them if they tried to go any other way but the one Tarses intended.

He turned to peer at the faces of the rest of the group, "We should go that way," he stated, eyeing Amare in particular as though expecting resistance from the feisty Nautolan who had just tried to drain his life force mere moments ago, "We're better off facing this warrior of his than being trapped in here like hive rats. If he wants a show, then we can use his curiosity to our advantage. I will fight his champion, while the rest of you find us an escape."

"Good! I vote Mentis as well," Amare said jovially with an approving nod. "That's two for him. He has the power and experience after all. What say you gentlemen? Does Mentis get to play gladiator?" She switched glances at Sev and Rex.

Mentis was surprised that Amare was so on board with his suggestion, but did not question it. He turned his head towards Rex, more interested in his opinion than the others.

Rex was scowling, his concerned mien not shifting for a moment in the face of their changing circumstances. He gave a shook of his head. "You don't have to do this, buddy," he half-growled in a hushed tone to the Rattataki. "Let Mandalore the Mighty take this one; he's dying to take it to one of these Imps, anyway."

The smuggler gave an awkward grin to his former Mandalorian buyer over Mentis' shoulder, a silent no-offence-intended expression offered to him.

"You haven't got to prove anything to anyone here," Rex pressed. "If that Big Moff wanted us dead, we'd already be corpses."

“What if proving myself is exactly what will prevent us becoming corpses?” Mentis frowned, “I know what it is like playing someone else’s game. If you don’t play their way, or play smarter, you’re dead. I don’t know how smart this fellow is yet, so I am counting on you to look for any weakness we can exploit. But until then, this is Tarses’ game.”

Rex only spared a brief glance away from his friend as he listened to his response. Emotion was plain to read on the smuggler's face, but he did not argue any further with Mentis. Instead, he pressed his gun into the Rattataki's hand. "Then you better damn well win it."

Rex's emotions brought on an odd fear within Mentis; not a fear of Tarses or any tricks he had planned, but a fear of loss. He had come so far, it would be devastating if they should die here so soon after beginning his new life away from Axion. If he died here, he imagined his old master gloating, proven right about how leaving the cult was a death sentence.

The pale humanoid turned with a quiet passion in his eyes towards the corridor ahead and, fueled by that same passion, he strode forwards with the others in tow behind him.

Amare kept close pace behind Mentis, and spoke quietly to his ear, "Listen, I may be Sith and a kriffing murderer, but I am not nearly as heartless as that other Nautolan you once you knew...at least I hope I won't be. If I could, I would give back some of the energy I took from you, fight by your side again if possible. I apologize for my transgression. If we survive this, I will teach you what I know of my power if you wish it."

Casting a sideways glace as he strode forwards, Mentis once again gazed into the Nautolan's dark eyes for a hint of her true self and whether he could trust a word she spoke, "If we survive this," he echoed, "You will face me in a duel so I may come to know you fully..."

TBC

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