The following is a pair of vignettes focusing on characters from Plagueis before the events of Code: Dread. You can find the complete series here.

CIS Tundra Station

Northern Aliso Region

37 ABY

Brimstone was pacing. He had been unable to stand still for days now, perhaps even weeks. Being in the colder region of Aliso made his blood boil even more. He cracked the knuckles on both hands, repeatedly, to give himself something to listen to. Downstairs, in the smaller quarters, a few members of the Willing were sorting through various datapads and artifacts left behind by the Confederacy of Independent Systems. It had been months now, and the Chiss still had to deal with professional scavengers.

At least it’s not Scudi, he reminded himself. A rather unprofessional scavenger.

All thoughts of the sad state of New Raxulon aside, Brimstone had been rather isolated in his home away from the Pinnacle for quite some time. In the aftermath of the latest war, he had been recuperating from the assault on the Thuvis Shipyards, tending to both physical wounds and mental strain. What would have suited him better, instead of being cooped up in the station, was actually going after the bastard who had attacked his Dread Lord in the first place. The Chiss was loyal to very few, but of the few, Ronovi was one of them.

And she had refused his request to hunt down Meero “Tripp” Trippani.

“You need to leave it alone,” Gaius Julius Caesar had advised him, after guiding a stubborn and frustrated Brimstone away from the Pinnacle. “This is her fight.”

“I can kill him. I’ll tear him apart.”

“No.” Caesar had shaken his head, the faint wisps of gray hair on his scalp bristling in the chilly breeze of Aliso. “She wants to do that. She has a claim to that. If anyone is going to murder Trippani, it’s Ronovi. Not you.”

“But what’s the point of - ”

“Being Dread Lord does not mean the woman sits on her laurels and lets her ‘minions’ do the dirty work for her,” Caesar had interrupted, ignoring the scowl that had subsequently emerged on Brimstone’s face. “You think she’s just a delicate maiden queen, and you’re the faithful knight? No. That demeans her, devalues her power. Of all people, you should understand that.”

Brimstone normally would have taken umbrage to the subtle reminder of his days with Ronovi in Tarentum. This time, however, he had let it drop.

“I’m not saying she can’t slaughter the guy herself,” he had grumbled. “I’m just saying I can do it for her.”

“Take that on,” the Karness Muur Aedile had warned, “and your head will be mounted on a pike right next to Trippani’s.”

“That’s fine. I’d let her kill me. If it meant I was loyal to the end.”

“If you think disobeying her desires is loyalty,” Caesar had opined, “then you are not loyal at all.”

Brimstone had given up arguing by then, instead focusing now on a console mounted in one of the small, cramped rooms of the Tundra Station. A transmission was being sent off to the clan.

---

Pinnacle - Level 42

di Plagia Quarters

37 ABY

Hee, hee, hee.

Furios Morega was thinking dirty thoughts. Every time he entered the Pinnacle, he had one image in mind, and one alone. No one could deny that the Epicanthix had a soft spot for childish humor; after all, this was the same man who had suggested naked Wookiee wrestling and run two ridiculous vacations on two mostly inhabitable planets. Mustafar more than Dagobah, of course.

He had decided to stop by the di Plagia quarters to meet with two of his cohorts - the available open bar helped. A service droid was already manning the counter, rearranging the bottles and preparing glasses. Furios swung a wide leg over a divan nearby and eyed the droid warily.

“Master-Morega. What-can-I-get-you?”

“Reactor Core,” he replied simply. “Make it extra hallucinogenic.”

The droid complied, mixing together the Spice Liqueur and Blue Tonic was ease. It brought the cocktail to Furios promptly, and Furios was left to swallow down its admittedly harsh flavor while lounging on the long couch. Good. At this rate, he would be tasting colors and hearing visions in no time. Maybe with enough of these bad boys, the Pinnacle truly would look like a -

“Brandy, please.”

The former Dread Lord, Arden Karn, had managed to slip by Furios without him noticing. The sniper was up to his old ways, the Epicanthix presumed. Furios respected being sneaky - after all, when he was sneaky, he felt childish glee. Especially after bombing the heck out of kyber mines on Thillon with his new best bud, Trevain. He actually kind of missed the guy; maybe he should send a holo-post card.

“Where’s Tra’an?” Furios asked, as Arden sat in the plush, red easy chair opposite to the divan, nursing his golden beverage. There were plenty of lovely pieces of furniture for the di Plagia to recline on.

“Probably out hunting for more Whyren’s Reserve. You know Ronovi’s stingy with it.”

“What? No spare bottle down here?”

Arden smiled thinly. “You have to ask really politely.”

Furios had a hunch as to what that actually meant.

In a few minutes, the Kaleesh emerged, his shoulders hunched over as he entered the space, which subdued his impressive height. He was already holding a bottle of what appeared to be the fine whiskey; now all he needed was a glass. Once that was provided, the three di Plagia sat and silently drank for some time, listening to the hum of the lights above their heads and the footsteps of the Willing echoing below them. The Pinnacle was busy, as usual.

Tra’an finally disrupted the tranquil booze session. “So,” he interjected. “The Ascendant Clan strikes at the Collective.”

“Yep. Preemptively this time,” Furios gruffly added.

“I would have done the same thing, were I still Consul,” Arden remarked. “It’s high time we stopped letting the Collective come to us. That reunion with Severin was unnecessary.”

“So we’re okay with this?”

“The di Plagia don’t necessarily get a choice in the matter,” Tra’an pointed out. “The Dread Lord is the Dread Lord. What she says, goes.”

“She was more compliant during the war.”

“That was before she got her arm blown off.”

Furios raised his already half-empty glass of Reactor Core up to Tra’an. “Touché,” he replied.

“Best we can do is support the clan’s efforts,” said Arden. “As for me, I don’t feel like it ends there. You know Ronovi’s past habits - always trying to turn things upside down wherever she leads. There’s unconventional, and then there’s erratic.”

“Do you not have confidence in your former Wrath?” asked Tra’an.

“Confidence that she can be successful? Yes.” Arden sighed. “Confidence that it’ll stick? Not at all.”

He sipped more brandy and stood up.

“You two have your fun. I have some family matters to attend to. Before this all gets out of hand.”

“Will you not be joining the campaign?”

“The Dread Lord’s business,” retorted Arden, “is not always my business. Good day, gentlemen.”

And with that, he was gone, slipping away from the bar as the droid continued to buzz behind the counter. Grinning with dilated pupils, Furios was already feeling pretty good, turning to face the now pretty gnarly-looking Kaleesh.

“Karn. What a card,” he chuckled. “Hey, Tra’an. You ever notice that the Pinnacle looks like a giant…”