Aboard
TK-818
's stealth transport, the Taskmaster waited. He was strapped into one of the simple, utilitarian seats at the back of the dropship, his knobby hands folded in his lap. His facial tendrils wriggled in anticipation. It was rare that he went to the field of battle while it still raged; his command of the
Fatalis over Csilla had been unusual, an isolated incident in a long career that had consisted mostly of torture and slave-breaking. But the opportunity that the Brotherhood had seen brewing in the dispute over Byss was too good to pass up, and his talents were uniquely suited to the kind of work they hoped to accomplish. It was something no mere raiding party could do.
The Mongrel
was a hammer; Tu'teggacha was a scalpel, sharp and precise.
All around them, the Ebruchi could sense tempers running hot as the diplomatic situation unraveled.
Marlon Sularen
's long and varied career had carried him to rulership of Byss, but his ideals - and the way he ran his domain - had always been strange fits for the Galactic Alliance, his politics unusual among their prominent politicians. Perhaps this confrontation had always been inevitable simply on that basis, or perhaps the schemes he'd hatched in secret had led to this point, all the strands of deception he'd woven suddenly pulling tight around him. It didn't really matter to Tu'teggacha. What
did matter was that, given just a little guidance, this could quickly get out of hand.
Madness was like gravity; all the situation needed was a little
push.
With the Galactic Alliance looking outward as it grew, its settlers and corporatists gazing with avaricious eyes on the resources of the Unknown Regions, it was very much in the Brotherhood's interest to ensure they had problems at home. The New Jedi Order had been meddling with the Maw's raids and conquests since the very beginning of its campaign of terror, and recently the Alliance fleet had begun to clash with them as well. But if the Core Worlds were suddenly convulsed by a nasty civil war, or at least tremendous disruption of trade and travel, all these efforts against the rampaging marauders would be badly hindered. The Alliance would have enough to deal with locally.
Tu'teggacha had not brought his own ship, or charged in aboard the
Fatalis, because he didn't need any such thing to perform his part of the disruption. The Dark Side was strong in him, though not in the flashy ways that Sith Lords or Knights of Ren displayed it. No, his gift was quieter and more insidious. He could touch minds and steer them, playing upon their emotions, delving into their worst memories and making them seem all too real again. The men and women all around him, the crews of both fleets in the confrontation, were brave and disciplined... but they were just ordinary people. They felt anger, each side certain it was in the right. They felt fear for what came next.
The Taskmaster reached out with the Force, touching their minds, amplifying these negative emotions. He fanned the flames and watered the seeds, letting the uncertainty grow, working to make officers vengeful and paranoid. If he could succeed, then all of these commanders - already primed for a fight - would begin to believe that the only solution in their justified vigilance against their opponents was to attack first, and with everything they had. Tu'teggacha's goal was to turn what had begun as a resolvable diplomatic incident into an irreconcilable bloodbath, something that would send fault lines through the Core Worlds that might never be fully repaired.
In particular, the Ebruchi focused his efforts on
Teica Giraan
, trying to reach out and touch her mind. He could sense her worry, her regret, her fear of loss, her doubt in herself. He could feel those same emotions radiating out to those under her command; they worried
for her, these officers who served beside her, who wanted to see her succeed. Tu'teggacha's goal was to wrack the commander with
torture by chagrin, forcing her to relive her worst memories, to see again the ships and crew she had lost over her career. He sensed that she was strong, already bearing so much pain without breaking; perhaps she could endure this. But perhaps, again, that little
push would make all the difference...
And then, from an unseen position, Sinh fired on her forces. With any luck, it would be enough to set her whole battle group off, chasing phantom foes... and finding real ones among Sularen's forces, ending any chance at deescalation.
