"Master," Helfta said, entering the room and standing at ease, respectfully inclining her head to the Darth. "You asked for me."
"I have a new mission for you apprentice," Tahrimi said in that low, menacing tone which had become more casual for her than the natural timbres of her voice. "I have discovered an ancient artifact of Tulak Hord, the absence of which Khem alerted me to last time we went exploring in the tomb. He has been quite unable to explain its abilities other than that it eats the Force as he does, but I must assume thusly that it may be weaponized against those self-righteous Jedi. I believe I have managed to track down and locate it, but unfortunately so has that idiot Lord Rona--via espionnage, no doubt."
Helfta hissed at the mention of that most troublesome, pampered excuse for a sith.
"Indeed," Tahrimi said, her lips curving up slightly in a dark smile. "I require you to go ahead of me to Nar Shadaa to obtain this relic while I dispatch our annoying little problem. You will find it in the Red Light district, if my readings are correct. I believe some foolish Hutt has hung it in his private rooms in one of the cantinas there. I will send you the coordinates once you arrive."
"Yes master," Helfta said. "But, isn't Lord Rona beneath you? Allow me to fight her in your stead; I shall not fail you, master."
Tahrimi smiled darkly again, but responded firmly, "No, apprentice. Lord Rona may be weak but she is well connected. I cannot risk anything going wrong, should any of her stronger allies rush to her aid--and I'm afraid money can attract some very powerful, if foolish, allies."
Helfta frowned. "You don't think I'm strong enough, master?"
"I think you are still just an apprentice, even if you are the strongest of your peers," Tahrimi replied almost flippantly.
"I don't need your protection you know; I've made the heads of my betters roll before, I could do it again," Helfta snapped, though she maintained a level, almost unaffected tone as she was wont to.
"Enough, apprentice!" Tahrimi shouted, slamming her fists on the table suddenly and sending little sparks of purple lightning shooting out in all directions. "It is not your place to question my orders, and you will perform the task I require of you, or it shall be your head that rolls and I assure you I've enough blood on my hands to bathe in--soaking in yours will not affect me," she said with an awful snarl distorting her pale, tattooed face into something almost monstrous.
Helfta glared back at Tahrimi and they stayed in silence for several moments. Finally, the apprentice relented. "Very well, master. Have all the fun," she said, turning to leave with a curt nod if her head. "I shall contact you from Nar Shadaa."
"One more thing, apprentice," Tahrimi said just as Helfta reached the door, her voice a growl of barely controlled frustration. "I can't have anyone knowing about the existence of this relic. Doubtless anyone knows what it is or that it exists aside from the Hutt and his entourage, but people will grow suspicious if a Sith is seen in this cantina--even if they understand nothing."
"No, apprentice. No witnesses. Wipe them out. All of them."
Helfta looked for a moment as though she was going to argue again, but she just nodded curtly once more and swept out of the room, leaving Tahrimi to seethe by herself.
The Darth bowed her head as the door slid closed behind Helfta. Her emotions were in turmoil, and she wanted desperately to kill something. How dare Helfta accuse her of something so soft and weak as attempted protection! But... But... Was it not also true what Helfta had said? That the apprentice could take on Lord Rona? I did not choose a weak apprentice, Tahrimi thought. She could just as easily take on Lord Rona as well as any of her pathetic allies. But... An image of Helfta lying in the med bay of the Fury, unconscious, after that vicious skirmish with Republican troopes on Tatooine flashed in Tahrimi's mind. A cold sense of dread gripped her, a shadow of what she had felt that day, but real and terrifying nonetheless, even in memory. Until then, she had not realised how much she'd grown to care for her headstrong apprentice--hadn't realised she'd cared about anything at all. But that feeling... That cold, empty, sheer terror... Only once before in her life had she known that feeling. In a time before she was Sith. A time before she knew power and control. A time of suffering. A time of fear. That day... When she'd watched her sister die.... She had felt just the same: just as frozen, just as empty, just as scared.
Tahrimi clicked on her holocron and pulled up images that she kept buried deep under complex coding of her own invention: the two images she had salvaged of her slave life, stolen off the security cam of her old encampment after she became Sith. Both featured her and her sister with their soft round faces and their newly sprouting horns. Tahrimi's skin was not a menacing pale pink, but as vibrant scarlet as her sister's had been. They were laughing at something, holding onto each other. Tahrimi could almost feel her sister's arms around her as she gazed at the image of what used to be. She didn't deserve to die, Tahrimi thought wretchedly, slamming the holocron off in a rage of distress. And neither does Helfta. No, I could not have risked her knowing that Lord Rona has allies on the Dark Council. My apprentice is talented, but even I was not strong enough to take on a Dark Council member when I was in her position, and I am unquestionably the strongest Sith in the empire.
Tahrimi squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, experiencing her raw, wretched emotions. When she opened her eyes, they were blurred with tears, which she viciously wiped away. Her feelings were too raw, too painful. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. All she could do was feel, and it was too much; she needed to relieve herself of this suffocating agony, this overwhelming fury. "Time to deal with that little snake Rona," she said in a savage whisper, fuelled by her distress. "Murder and mayhem await."