Star Wars: Dark Angel, Dangerous Games

Vader had watched Xizor circle them for hours, attempting to hide himself within his band of females. The only time he took his eyes off Lylla was to throw glances up to the Emperor, who in turn would return signals back to the Falleen in the form of light gestures and nods. It was a form of communication he knew well, for that was what he had been doing with Jixton for the last few hours.

As Lylla was tolerating the oozing flattery of Admiral Ozzel, he noted that Xizor suddenly turned away and lowered his head. A curt nod told Jix to investigate. Jix casually sauntered to stand a meter shy of the Falleen prince, pretending to evaluate the wine in his glass. He watched the Falleen lift his hand to his nose, snap a jewel open on one of his rings, and deeply inhale the contents inside. Flipping the ring closed, Xizor pulled a silk handkerchief from his sleeve, dabbed his nose, dismissed his concubines with a sharp wave, then turned and sauntered straight toward the Dark Lord and his captivating mistress. Jix kept close behind.

As Ozzel finally made his exit, Lylla turned back to the crowd. Her eyes caught a green-skinned man as he cut through the crowd toward them. Although the only hair he had was a long black topknot that grew from the top of his bald head, the man was extraordinarily handsome. High arched eyebrows framed his face, and shadows carved the jut of his sharp cheekbones and chin. The rich purple of his impeccably tailored brocade coat contrasted sharply with the deep green of his skin in the glow of the ballroom's chandeliers. Each of his sleek clawed fingers was adorned with a fortune of jeweled rings, and a massive diamond was pinned to the cravat at his throat. But what struck her were his eyes—almond shaped like hers, but reptilian, and a yellow so intense they almost glowed. And they were locked on her, as was his devilish smile.

She leaned into Vader and whispered, "Who is that man?"

"That is Xizor," he answered.

She noted the contempt in his voice. "You're not friends, I'm guessing?"

"That is a story for another day," he replied. "I take it he wasn't mentioned during your protocol sessions." He didn't reveal that he had purposely left Xizor out of her lessons.

"Apparently not," she answered, her eyes still glued to him.

"That doesn't surprise me, as he is the Supreme Vigo of Black Sun."

"The crime syndicate?" Lylla gasped.

"You know of them?"

"Of course I know about Black Sun. I was a pleasure slave, their most profitable cargo." She turned back, narrowing her eyes. "He's looking at me like he'd order me off a menu."

"Unsurprising," the Dark Lord said. "His appetites are notorious amongst the elite. He thinks himself the master of seduction."

"Reeeeally," she crooned. She laughed. "Are you worried, my lord?" Her laughter subsided, however, when the he did not respond.

"Lord Vader," Xizor announced, his arms open wide, before stopping and bowing low. The whispers of shock and anticipation had already begun by the time he rose. "May I have permission to formally meet your..." He slid his gaze to Lylla. "Consort?"

Vader rested his hands on his belt in his usual manner. "Madame Enforcer, Prince Xizor of Falleen. Your Highness, Madame Enforcer Lylla Sa'thraxxx."

Xizor's grin grew. "Madame Sa'thraxxx, it is an immeasurable joy to meet you." He held his hand forward.

Lylla eyed it hesitantly. No one else had dared take her hand thus far. She glanced to Vader for some counsel. He gave her nothing, standing silently with his hands at his belt. Finally, she relied on her protocol training, and lifted her hand to his. Xizor cradled it delicately before bringing a soft kiss to her bare fingers. He looked at her from under his brow, and smiled.

Despite her immediate contempt for the Prince, Lylla felt her flesh warm at the touch of his lips. She fluttered her lashes. "Your Highness, the pleasure is all mine," she replied absently.

Xizor stood up straight, and held her hand a moment too long before releasing it. He looked to Vader. "My lord, I am not a jealous man—a trait for which I take substantial pride. But as I bask in the presence of such... loveliness, I must admit that I am a tad envious."

The crowd tittered around them. Vader tilted his helm forward. "You flatter me, your Highness. Judging by the number in your entourage, your appreciation for beauty is unparalleled." A pause. "One might even say, 'excessive'."

Venom sparked in Xizor's eyes before he quickly donned his charming grin. "Lord Vader jests with me. A sense of humor—who would have thought?" The crowd chuckled anxiously around them, nervous of insulting either one of these men who could easily have them killed for laughing...or not.

The first chords of a new orchestral piece broke the moment's tension. Xizor glanced up at the orchestra. "Ah, they are playing my request. I asked for a sprinital, and they delivered quickly. Lord Vader," he said, stepping toward Lylla, "I certainly hope I am not overstepping my bounds by asking for a dance with Madame Sa'thraxxx?"

Lylla's eyes slit thin as blades at the audacity of this man. "Forgive me, but I couldn't—"

"By all means, your Highness," Vader said. Lylla's head snapped to the Dark Lord, her face stiff with shock. He ignored her. "There is no reason why Madame Sa'thraxxx shouldn't dance tonight, even if I do not."

"Then it is settled. Madame Sa'thraxxx, would do me the honor?" Xizor offered his arm. Lylla still scowled at Vader until he gestured to the dance floor. Cautiously, she drew her hand from Vader's wrist and placed it upon Xizor's. But once their hands touched, Lylla's scowl lessened. Still smiling, Xizor led her away. Several members of the crowd followed them, whispering fervently in each other's ears.

Vader drew his hand back and ran a finger over the top left button on his breastplate. Immediately, Jixton recognized the signal, dribbled some wine over his lips, and began to stumble through the remaining guests. Just as he reached Vader, he tripped over his own feet and fell into him, spilling his wine all over Vader's cape. "Oh, Force and Heaven!" he shrieked. He frantically wiped at the cape with his sleeve. "My Lord Vader, please forgive me! I—aagh!"

The courtiers surrounding Lylla and Xizor shot their attention toward the screaming man, and all the wagging tongues silenced. They watched and gasped as Vader, composed and silent, grabbed the front of the man's jacket with one hand and wrenched him off the floor. They heard the poor man bawl in terror as Vader carried him several paces to throw him up against a pillar and pin him there.

Vader shoved his mask into the Jix's face. "Report," he murmured.

"He snorted something out of his ring," Jix whispered, "a powder of some kind. I'm assuming it's a drug."

"Tarigash, undoubtedly," he snarled. He noted Jix's questioning look. "A narcotic native to Falleen. It has no effect whatsoever on the host, only on those around him. It mixes with his pheromones, causing an intense state of sensory arousal and leaving the prey extremely vulnerable to suggestion." He gave Jix a good rough shake for appearances, and Jix sniveled accordingly. Glancing at the Emperor seated high on his throne, he whispered, "I need a distraction."

"How big?" Jix asked enthusiastically.

"Big enough to distract the entire place."

An impish grin lit up Jix's face. "I only aim to serve, Uncle D."

Vader hurled Jix through the air, alarming the guests around them to scurry away. Jix shrieked again as he fell sprawling on the cold marble floor. Vader took a menacing step toward him. "Consider that a warning, imbecile! Now get out of my sight!"

"Yes, yes, oh yes, my Lord!" Jix sniveled as he scrambled to his feet. He backed away, bowing over and over. "A thousand thanks for your mercy, Lord Vader! Oh, thank you! Thank you..." And with one or two more grovels, Jixton disappeared into the thick of the crowd.

Vader lifted his cape to inspect the stain, then acknowledged the guests. "I must attend to this." With no further courtesy, he snapped his cape and strode fiercely away toward one of the arched exits. The guests gasped and the whispers increased ten fold as the Dark Lord strode away. How could Lord Vader leave his consort? Isn't he aware of the Prince Xizor's disreputable reputation? Doesn't he realize everyone was watching them on the dance floor?

Out of the corner of his eye Xizor caught the tower of leather and black robes make his exit. In mid-turn, he glanced at the Emperor again, who answered him with a self-satisfied smirk and a nod that told Xizor to proceed to the next step.

Once out of sight, Vader softened his harsh boot steps as he made his way down the dark corridor until he came upon the far wall. Passing his hand over it, the panel slid open. He ascended the staircase inside to a tiny hidden antechamber. Installed there was a two-way mirror that overlooked the dance floor, and Vader looked down on Lylla and Xizor.

They were in the thick of the sprinital, an intricate courtly dance of precision and pattern. Although Lylla kept herself straight and serene, she missed a turn here or stumbled over her foot there. He could see she was struggling to stay collected.

Circle four steps, dip, turn, circle back four steps. Step in, curtsey, step out. Gods and hells, I HATE this, Lylla cursed silently as she barely managed to keep up. It didn't help matters that she felt woozy and befuddled. Colors and intensity, the smells of perfumes and foods, the onslaught of laughter and conversation and music all battled in her mind. She didn't feel sick, more like intoxicated...

"You're counting."

Lylla snapped her eyes up, her thoughts dissipating. "What?"

"You're counting the beats," Xizor clarified, smiling. They had come to face each other. He held her hand aloft, their elbows touching, as they circled each other. "You just learned this dance, didn't you?"

Her lids fluttered as she fought for an answer. Finally, she said, "I'm not much of a dancer. Never was." Beat. "Much to my father's disappointment." She held back a laugh.

"Don't worry, I'll keep your secret," he whispered. He twirled her under his arm, then pulled her to his side and encircled her back to rest his hand on her hip. As he led her in a slow promenade, she could feel the air warm between them. She pinned her eyes straight ahead and forced herself to focus. Xizor spoke again. "You mentioned your father? And he is...?"

"No longer with us," said Lylla, hoping it was true.

"My condolences."

"None needed."

Now they faced each other. A step to one side, step to the other, touch arms, circle again. "Forgive my curiosity, my lady," Xizor said, "but I detect the slightest hint of an Outer Rim dialect. I thought perhaps your family was within the echelon of the Corporate Sector. A mining magnate, or perhaps—"

"I don't feel well," she blurted softly. She wasn't lying.

His moment had arrived. "Madame, do you need some air?"

Her eyes darted, scanning a sea of heads and headdresses. "Where...where is he...?" Her mask of composure was starting to slip.

Xizor stopped the dance, and held her shoulders. "You're overheated, Madame Sa'thraxxx. And you're nervous from all the attention, yes?"

His voice wrapped itself around her shoulders. "Yes."

"Perhaps you would like to continue this dance elsewhere, where it is cool and fragrant, away from all these prying eyes?" With a comforting hand on her back, he began to lead her off the floor toward an arched exit.

"No," Lylla protested softly. He gripped her wrist. She tried to pull away from him. Her eyes rolled. "I can't leave."

"It will only be for a few moments, Madame."

The smell of him, of cologne and maleness, flooded her head. Her gaze lifted to the hundreds of thousands of lights that dazzled her eyes. She cried out within her own head, Vader...

A sudden scream seized Xizor's attention. He turned to the repulsor balcony across the ballroom, where a woman was screaming and two men were arguing loudly while throwing plates at one another. The crowd below wailed and dispersed as bits of glassine and food and an occasional chair rained down.

Then more screams, this time toward the entrance. All eyes turned again to see a huge floral display burning. The major domo remained calm. "Nothing to fear. It's taken care of." The mass backed away, and murmured anxiously. Fire droids dropped from their housings and sped through the ballroom to hover over the display and cover it with a fine mist of flame retardant.

The guests were calming, but still shaken, babbling amongst themselves. Not one of them was looking at them.

Xizor turned back to Lylla, who hadn't seemed to notice the commotion. His grin was that of restrained triumph. Unhurriedly and still holding her wrist, he began backing toward the archway, gently pulling her with him.

Lylla's voice was thin as she half stated, half pleaded, "I can't do this..."

"Ssssshhh," he hushed. "Of course you can..."

* * *

Vader watched Xizor and Lylla disappear beneath him as he led her to the exit. "Jixton, now."

The order crackled through his earlink. "On my way."

He swept out of the antechamber and down the stairs, but halted abruptly at the bottom. Reaching for his breastplate, he drew and held his breath as he switched off his breather. Through a crack in the secret door, he saw Xizor enter the darkened corridor, pulling Lylla with him. He heard Xizor soothing her; "Come, I know a place. It's very private, no one staring or talking..." Xizor pulled her to his side and placed a hand round her cinched waist, leading her down the hall.

"No," Lylla protested weakly, bringing a hand to her forehead. "I can't...Lord Vader will be angry..."

"If Lord Vader was concerned about you, he'd be here caring for you, wouldn't he?"

Vader curled his black fist. But no, he must let this continue, he must wait until the time was right.

Just as Xizor and Lylla turned the far corner, Jixton appeared in the archway. Vader came out and turned his breather back on. He took several long breaths, and motioned for Jix to come forward. "The fire was a bit excessive," he said.

Jix put his hands on his hips. "You wanted a big distraction, and I delivered. Be happy I didn't use a thermal detonator, cuz I thought about it."

"And the argument?"

"Oh, that. Seems the ambassador from Zorbia II insulted the wife of Count Inderell of Hicripia. I wish I could take credit for that, but that was just gravy." He grinned. "You have to admit, the timing was outstanding, wasn't it?"

Vader didn't let Jix to bask in his accomplishment. "Follow them, and keep the link open."

"There's something you should know."

"What?"

"The Emperor isn't on his throne. He's gone."

Vader straightened, then nodded once. "Good work. Now go." He watched Jix move down the hall, falling into the shadows with the casual stealth that made him so good at his job. He backed into the secret door again, then went up the stairs and took his seat. Looking through the mirror, he turned to the empty throne upon the dais.

Do not fail me, Lylla, he sent.

* * *

"I won't," Lylla murmured, barely audible.

"Pardon, Madame?"

She blinked. "What?"

"You just said something."

"I did?"

Xizor laughed softly. Lylla, in her haze, laughed with him, and even leaned her cheek into his shoulder for a brief moment. But before he could take full advantage of the gesture, she immediately straightened up and stepped away until, once again, a breeze could pass between them.

He raised an eyebrow as he regarded her. Her tolerance to tarigash was considerable, and certainly impressive. By this time most women would have had him up against the nearest wall, skirts bunched around their waists, legs wrapped around his torso as he vigorously gave them what they had voraciously begged for. But not this one—in fact, the drug seemed to affect her no differently than a few glasses of spicewine would. She was intoxicated, yes, and even a tad flirtatious, but hardly what he would call wanton. Even in her induced bliss, she kept her manners—and her distance. Xizor found himself even more intrigued than before and even pleased that, for the first time in a very, very long time, a challenge had finally presented herself.

He slipped his hand from her waist and came in front of her, taking her hand. "We're almost there. Close your eyes." Lylla complied with a soft giggle. As they walked, a warm breeze blew a curtain of sweet fragrance over her. She felt the floor beneath her boots change from marble to clay tile. Xizor pulled her a little further before stopping. "Open them."

Lylla raised her lids and gasped. She found herself surrounded by the most spectacular garden she had ever seen. Flora of every imaginable color bloomed from ornate pots or twisted around thick deep-veined marble pillars. Statues and benches carved from precious rock were meticulously set and displayed throughout the expansive terrace. A lofty trestle had been erected up and over the garden to allow the lights of the city-planet to softly illuminate its beauty, and its struts were entwined with flowering ivy all the way to the top. Coruscant's magnificent skyline loomed over the balcony at the edge of the terrace, and the softened music from the ballroom floated over the open balcony on the palace side.

"You like?" Xizor asked. He dropped her hand and backed away, his arms spread wide in a sweeping gesture. "Every precious flowering plant from the Core Worlds is displayed here, and the sculptures are all priceless works of art. I had this garden built for the Emperor. It was my gift, in celebration of his coronation."

Lylla turned in a slow circle, her mouth agape, as she took it all in. "It's beautiful," she breathed. She turned to him over her shoulder. Her voice was low, throaty. "You're a generous one, aren't you?"

It seemed the taringash had finally kicked in; there was no denying that smooth, sensuous smile. Xizor returned it. "Only to those I am fond of."

"Or to those you fear?" She saw his smile lessen and his eyes narrow. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that, I..." She began to giggle. Then she grasped her full skirt and sent it billowing around her as she twirled across the terrace, stumbling just a tad, her peals of laughter mingling with the music from inside. She spun until she came upon a pillar. She lifted her arms and lazed against it with a soft moan, then looked at him over her shoulder. The smile had returned. "Didn't you promise me a dance?"

"Why, I believe I did." His slender hands went to the top fasteners of his elegant frockcoat. "Allow me a moment, dear lady." He backed a few steps, his eyes and smooth smile fixed upon her, before turning and walking to one of the benches, peeling the jacket off his arms. As he neatly folded the jacket and placed it carefully on the bench, he glanced quickly to the ballroom balcony. When he saw a gnarled hand gesture from behind the drapery, he was assured that the Emperor had taken his place there, ready to observe the imminent outcome.

And unbeknownst to all of them, another pair of eyes intently watched from the deep shadows of the arched walkway, with his finger positioned on his comlink

With his back turned, Xizor couldn't see Lylla's face change. He didn't see her eyes slit with raw contempt, or her smile smear into a snarl. He was completely unaware that she was using every bit of the control she had left not to bolt at him and scratch out his eyes.

He had drugged her; of that she had no doubt. But as to how, she couldn't guess. She hadn't drunk or eaten anything all night, so the drug had to be on his person somewhere. His cologne, perhaps? The method was irrelevant, really. All she knew was that she, for a brief time, had been unable to resist his lures or his charm. This lecherous prince, however, hadn't taken into account her high levels of tolerance. She had smoked her first death stick at the age of eight, had her first taste of glimmerspice at ten, and by the time she was sixteen, she had mastered the method of cutting Black Razor into her skin without leaving a scar: and although this drug was interesting, its effect wasn't nearly what the prince had been hoping for.