Star Wars_ The Old Republic_ Revan - Drew Karpyshyn [33]
“You’re sending Sechel with me again?”
Nyriss nodded. “They may have connections to other terrorist groups. Sechel will be able to slice their records and find out who they are working with. I’m also sending Murtog and his soldiers with you. Sechel will be your precision instrument; the soldiers will be your blunt tool.”
Scourge would have preferred to leave Sechel behind, at least until he’d had a chance to confirm his suspicions.
He briefly considered sharing his concerns with Nyriss, then decided to stick with his original plan of keeping them to himself. He’d just have to keep a close eye on Sechel during the mission, and be wary of walking into any traps. There would be plenty of time to deal with him once the separatists were eliminated and he had proven himself worthy in Darth Nyriss’s eyes.
“The human filth will die, my lord,” Scourge promised, bowing low. “I will not fail.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR THE SECOND TIME in the space of a single month, Revan found himself at a table in the back of the Dealer’s Den, surrounded by the dregs of Coruscant.
“You couldn’t have just contacted me via holocomm?” he asked Canderous as he took a seat.
T3 obediently rolled underneath the table to sit patiently at their feet, safely away from where the waitresses might trip over him.
“I need to talk to you face-to-face about this,” the Mandalorian replied.
“Sounds ominous.”
T3 chirped his agreement.
“You still having those nightmares?” Canderous asked.
“Sometimes. I’m dealing with it.”
The dreams were coming only two or three times a week now, instead of every night. Revan didn’t know if this was because his subconscious was gaining more control over the repressed memory, or if it had something to do with the fact that he was taking steps to investigate his vision. Whatever the explanation, over the past week he had finally been able to grab a few nights of fitful rest. It wasn’t enough to get rid of the dark circles under his eyes, but he no longer felt utterly exhausted.
“Tell me what you found,” he said.
“I didn’t learn anything about a planet covered in storms and eternal night. But I did dig up something you might be interested in.”
The astromech droid at Revan’s feet beeped twice. It was obvious even to him that Canderous was hesitant to speak.
“I hope you’re not waiting for me to try to buy this information from you,” Revan joked. “I left most of my credits at home.”
Canderous shifted uncomfortably, then leaned forward to speak in a low whisper. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, you being a Jedi and all, but I think you have a right to know.”
“If you’re worried I’ll go running to the Council with your secret, don’t be.”
“It’s not just them. You can’t tell the Galactic Senate, either.”
“Whatever you’ve got to say must be pretty bad,” Revan remarked.
“Depends on your point of view.”
The big man leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Revan stayed silent, giving his friend time to gather himself.
“I got in contact with some of my people, just like you asked,” Canderous said finally. “I found out that dozens of the strongest chiefs are gathering their clans at Rekkiad.”
Revan recognized the name. Located in the Outer Rim system of the same name, Rekkiad was a virtually uninhabited world of ice and snow.
“They’re planning another invasion,” he guessed, assuming that was why Canderous was worried about the Jedi or the Republic finding out.
“No, they’re not,” Canderous assured him. “Not yet, at least. They’re searching for Mandalore’s Mask. They think you hid it somewhere on Rekkiad.”
An image flickered through Revan’s mind: he and Malak standing on the top of a glacier, surrounded by a swirling blizzard. It vanished before he could grasp it, retreating into the dark corners of his subconscious. Yet the brief flash of the resurfacing memory was enough to confirm what Canderous had said.
“I think they may be right,” Revan