One more to go.
Jarls Kerris pulled his electroblade from the quivering sentry droid's processor and quickly sheathed it; the thing had shut down quietly, but had it been quietly enough? Darbera had clearly spent his ill-gotten gain on only the best and a number of the latest watcher droid models came with hearing upgrades that made pin-drops half a continent away easily heard.
Slipping into an alcove gave Jarls a few moments of tense silence to collect his thoughts, and fortunately no droids came by to spoil his peace. Research on Darbera's palace had cost him a pretty penny but was paying off - he knew exactly how many security measures and of what type were waiting for him around the next corner.
Of course, it was always possible the man who'd sold him the intel was secretly working for Darbera – the angry Lenbian had been up until a few months ago when his employer saw fit to chop off several of his fingers for “insolence”. That had led to a daring escape, or so the Lenbian told Jarls, along with a powerful hatred of the crimelord.
Jarls had no care for the other being's motivations or story - the information he could provide was what made him useful. So far, every detail had been perfect and every room had been just as expected. Frankly, it made Jarls nervous.
An image of Darbera came to mind unbidden, a wavering picture of the crimelord in his younger years when he owed only a fraction of Talow's underground. Danbera had always been easy to find – his Hallion heritage meant he towered above subordinates and supplicants alike, and had social skills so poor they seemed almost deliberately blunted. Jarls had known doing business with the up-and-coming boss was a risky venture, but money spoke louder than good sense. Despite repeated warnings from Karlene, a deal had been brokered and a mission carried out. Payment came quickly and with a bonus for efficiency, along with a demand that Jarls continue work on an indefinite basis. He'd refused with a laugh to Danbera's face, and the next thing he remembered was waking up in the crimelord's medical bay. On the cot next to him lay Karlene, body bruised and blackened; Jarls could recall little after that until Lors found him in a tavern, mind nearly gone. His brother had hauled him bodily off of the dirty floor, shoved him into a travel-car and sent him to the spaceport. Once there, Jarls found his mother and sisters waiting and was gently put on a transport that carried him off-world.
It took seven years for them to believe he'd made peace with what happened and to relax their hovering care. His kind rarely left the homeworld, let alone stayed away to marry off-worlders, and once he started acting as though he had “remembered” his roots, Jarls was largely left alone. The truth was that he couldn't stand the peace and quiet of Tremmel – the universe called to him, drove him to see what lay at the next spaceport or at the next shuttle stop. Such drive had brought him Karlene.
He knew Lors and the others hoped that the universe would take the blame for his wife's death and that Jarls would remain on Tremmel, but he could not imagine a worse fate. With his mind fully under control again he'd said goodbye to friends and family, thanking them sincerely for their rescue and then boarded a shuttle, leaving behind no forwarding address. If what he had planned didn't go well, Jarls wanted there to be no possibility of more people he loved paying the price.
A soft whirring sound brought his attention back to exactly what he had planned, and Jarls held his breath as the last sentry droid passed by his alcove. It sensed him but too late – he was out in the open, blade slicing, before the thing could bring up one weapon-covered arm.
He was close now – so close.
Swift feet carried him to a large set of platiform doors, holo-carvings across their surface winking up at Jarls as he attached a decoder. Darbera had never been shy about calling attention to his own triumphs, even if they were imagined. A small chirp and green light on the 'coder let him know the door's lock was disengaged and he took a deep breath. Karlene, he sent the thought skyward we're almost done, my love.
One swift kick split the door-halves and sent them flying inward, and Jarls followed with the flash of a smoke-bomb to cover his entry. By the time both doors were fully open he was behind one of four large pillars at the back of the room – anyone watching would have seen only billowing fog.
“Hello, little rat.” A voice rumbled from the center of the room. “I was told to expect you.”
Jarls didn't bother to answer. That he had been betrayed at some point in his journey did not surprise him, nor did he care. Darbera was a ruthless and efficient crimelord, but could not pass up the chance to gloat, to mock his prey before the kill was made. Such gloating gave Jarls the opportunity he needed. His throwing knife spun end over end to slip easily between the Hallion's shoulder blades, and with a roar Darbera spun, pulling the weapon free.
“Fool!” He roared. “To have such an advantage and then give it...away.” There was a hesitation at the last, a pause as what Jarls had concocted began to take effect. Hallion physiology was not complicated, and Tremmel was home to some of the most brilliant alchemical minds in the galaxy.
“Come to me, Darbera, murderer of my wife. Come to me, dead man!” Jarls smirked as the crimelord fought to take a step forward, then another. One final, heavy tread and Darbera fell, his massive form shattering tiles as it crashed to the polished floor.
Gone.
- D
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