Nar Shaddaa

There was no line of numbers to put in the holoprojector to do it. The only way available was still highly fallible, but in the end it all depended on him if he would respond. Moyr believed he could if he wanted, wherever they were in relation to one another. She put the mask on, and absorbed the tendrils of vergence crawling into her eye sockets to make her see red in the hue of the Death God.

"Through Power, I gain Victory."

She said slowly, then reached out, pushing back on the lampreys of Force, trying to sense him across time and space.

She could sense him but it was… not faint but ephemeral in the Force the tendrils… links… whatever you called it that connected them was there but he was both there and not there. He was alive, somewhere but short of that she could not tell if he was in this reality or in a coma.

It didn’t matter because a priority message was coming through to her ship. A priority communication from Nar Shaddaa through secure Imperial channels.

Moyr pushed the concern aside. All men were fallible, Jadus too, but she had to have confidence that whatever he had walked himself into, or he was doing, was furthering his agenda, and his mentorship was not compromised by it for too long. Still, she did not find it odd that the message came soon after she had reached out. The Force was a web, and the disturbance in its fabric may have caught a ripple. She waved through the holographic stream to pick up the message.

“It’s the bitch on the Bitch, I figured we would cross paths eventually, my father’s hidden lap dog. Did I catch you at a bad time… I don’t care, you served my father and he is gone, now you serve me,” Lord Zhorrid commands.

She sneers and adds, “Don’t be surprised father is not as clever as he thinks.”

"Surprised is too strong a word, my lord. He's been silent for a while." Moyr replied cautiously. "I suppose it's a good time to finally make an overdue acquaintance, now that I have a manoeuvring space to make a difference." Her voice was eerily hollow when it was coming from the mask. Some deference was shown with a deeper nod and in not talking back on insults. "If your father has not tried to stop you from making such assertions ahead of this conversation, it at least means he either doesn't mind or doesn't care." The Wraith paused. "Maybe your aspirations are outside of his concern, and his negligence in this regard is meant to be anointing."

“When you get here, we are going to chat, I have things that need doing. The idiots on the Dark Council are giving me the run around. My father is dead, or will be or should be. I will take his seat, you want to advance you serve me or I skin your face and wear it as a mask,” she says calmly.

“I might do that anyway. Pro-tip don’t be boring.”

"I can't let any flaying happen to me, my lord. If you force my hand to act against you, I will. It'd be a bit too early though, for both of us. Your bid for a seat won't work if you are wasteful like that."The Wraith calmly responded. Jadus' fate was the part where he did not believe her. "I look forward to knowing more of those things that need to be done. Hopefully they'll be closer to the letter of the Code than the concept of 'peace talks' will ever be."

“I don’t care about peace talks,” she says with a wave of her hand.

“Remember who you speak to worm, I am a Lord of the Sith, you are barely a worm. When you arrive present yourself to me so we can speak in person. I expect tribute from my newest servant. Do not make me hunt you down.”

The hologram ends. The coordinates arrive at her ship.

"Now, now. That can go rimward quickly." Moyr said after a moment. "Where are you, Master?" She tried to focus on the tendrils again, like on a lifeline on the monitor attached to a bacta tank. She closed her eyes, and plunged into the Force, accepting the strain to her body and mind.

Distant but there, he is alive though and perhaps hidden? Maybe lost.

She clung to the tendril that reported his slumberous state or however this could be called, and pushed along with emotion of anger and resolve.

"I have the passion to succeed, Master. I cannot be deterred from seeking you out. My dedication cannot be usurped. I wait for your word."

She gets fleeting images of things... maybe places... things that have yet to be? She feels his presence in them, images of a man standing before Jadus there are words but no sound... mirror images show them battle another shows them working together.

She sees him die, she sees him live.

Then sees an insignia and the void.

Moyr lingered in the void for a moment, waiting if anything else would reveal itself, even if it meant pushing herself more. But what she had just sensed was already much. The symbol... it felt corporate, but... it felt like a decision point, a knife stuck in the time-space continuum which cleaved two different realities asunder. So it was crucial to answer who, and whose. The symbol, was it like anything she had seen before?

One thing was relatively likely: Zhorrid was an usurper.

Rudimentary searches match the Insignia with Black Star a weapon design firm with an R&D office on Nar Shaddaa.

Black Star... Moyr was slowly shutting off the exposure to the tendrils and refocused on the search. Representatives, address of the R&D office on the Moon, recent media coverage or other reported activities, products on the market, business partners, long-term contracts...

It took a while, but she had enough to begin with.

/scene