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As a species, the Fallen were secretive and insular; little was known of them by the rest of the galaxy, since they tended to keep to their own system. In their dealings with other species, they were usually soft-spoken and silver-tongued. They were not unctuous and wheedling, like the duplicitous Neimoidians, and they were far more clever and indirect than the plainspoken Dressellians. The Falleen were physically imposing as well, averaging over one and a half meters in height, and possessed, for the most part, of a sleek and mesomorphic body design. With their classically symmetrical features, skin pigmentation that ranged from verdant to orange-red, depending on the individual’s mood, and lustrous hair, they were not unattractive as featherless bipeds went, Kaird supposed. The attraction was enhanced, of course, by the wide range of pheromones they could produce. This latter fact was not generally well known, as the Falleen were rarely encountered, and they weren’t in the habit of pointing out their advantage to others. But Kaird had known a female Falleen named Thula in the recent past. He knew that the airborne triggers, secreted from specialized apocrine glands of both male and female Falleen, could cause various intense reactions, romantic and otherwise, in others of their own species. In addition to pheromones, they could also produce allelochemical transmitters that evoked various emotions, such as fear, desire, anger, doubt, and confusion, among most species with similar body chemistry. The Falleen were quite adept at manipulating others via these subliminal means, and Xizor, Prince of House Sizhran, one of the oldest of the Falleen monarchies, was an adept among adepts.

Even without this biochemical advantage, Falleen were naturals at the intricate games of politics. Xizor was also a shining example of this: a player who believed absolutely in the words of the great strategist General Grievous: “One should clique closely with one’s allies, but even more closely with one’s adversaries.”

Kaird espoused the same philosophy, of course. It amused him, as much as he assumed it amused his enemy, to dissemble, to pay lip service to the other’s accomplishments while subtly playing up his or her inherent problems. “Prince Xizor’s disposition of the Jalorian Sodality was ingenious and impressive. The failure to recover the shipment of fire emeralds before it was swallowed by the Khadaji Singularity in no way lessens his accomplishment.” Or, “The imbroglio involving the attempted assassination of the Khommite ambassador is unfortunate, but we must remember that the Khommites are clones. Mistaking one for another was to be expected … given the quality of the intel supplied.”

Xizor never became upset at such veiled barbs, and he gave as good as he got. “It was, perhaps, not the quality of the intel that was at fault,” he had said in response to Kaird’s latter innuendo, “but the interpretation of the data. I did not choose the assassination team; I merely supplied vital information—much of which seems to have been ignored.”

Of course, it had been Kaird who had picked the hit beings and given them their marching orders. And so it went, back and forth, the endless and subtle jockeying for position, each with the same goal: the favor of Underlord Perhi.

Kaird knew what the Falleen’s desire was: power and security within the organization, with an ultimate shot at the title of Underlord. The same, in other words, as just about everyone else’s goal. The only way to have that was to claw one’s way as high up the food chain as possible, and being a Vigo was about as high as one could get. There were eight others who were a Vigo’s equal, but only one who was a superior: the Underlord himself. Xizor craved that power and authority. He didn’t lack for funds; even had he not been a Falleen prince, his front business, Xizor Transport Systems, earned him millions of credits annually without his having to lift a manicured finger. He didn’t lack for feminine companionship, either;