Interregnum/Chapter One

3,959: The Last Year of Peace

It was one o'clock in the morning when at Docking Bay 321 the Patriarch docked. The vessel itself was large: not quite small enough to be a freighter but not bulky and difficult to handle like the commonly-used frigates. Only a few Corellians were in the landing bay, all weary-eyed and loath to unload the vessel's cargo. The Bay Officer wearily opened up a bottle of Tarisian Ale and drank from it until he felt the Patriarch's landing struts come into contact with the floor of the docking bay. He cursed for a moment before entering the bay control room, while the others began moving to the rear of the ship to begin unloading its cargo.

While the workers were at work, a hatch near the front of the ship opened slowly. Emerging from the opening was a lithe Cathar. She was a pure-bred Cathar; a rare-sight on Coruscant. She was clad in a dark-colored robe that, along with her brown fur, concealed her well against the backdrop of space. Her padded feet made no sound as she crept across the docking bay, keeping her eyes on all of the dock workers at all times. She made her way to the exit from the docking bay and headed out, not sparing a glance behind her.

The Coruscanti Underworld was a mixture of old duracrete buildings on one side and brightly-lit night clubs on the other. She looked up into the sky. There was the Jedi Temple, dominating the horizon. She felt an indescribable emotion ripple through her. To see Coruscant again, after all these years... It had been so long... Perhaps even he was still here.

She quickly shook her head. This was no time to be lost in memories. She looked around her surroundings warily. The night eyes of a Cathar made the task easier, but no one could truly take the entire Underworld in. There were all sorts of villainy slinking in the corners and the alleyways that could be hard to detect. It wasn't as though their opposite made her any more relieved, either: there were usually at least a couple members of the Coruscanti Security Forces stationed down here, always on the lookout for criminals like her. With that in mind, she worked her way into the Underworld.

As she moved, she couldn't help but notice that the Underworld had changed. When she was a young, mewing girl it had had security officers stationed at set points at all times, even at night. Now, the Underworld was deserted of Security Forces. The Precinct in this district was sealed off with several durasteel crates stacked in front of it, some of them having accumulated so much dust that it seemed as if they had been there for months. The other government offices nearby also bore the telltale signs of neglect - graffiti that was once always erased at the end of the day had been accumulating on their walls. A speeder lie crashed in the middle of the street, and apparently no one had bothered to clean it up before sunset. She had fled Taris due to instability, but it seemed as though there was trouble even on Coruscant.

Eventually, she ducked down an alleyway that led to residential areas of the Underworld, known by most as the slums. A feeling of relief came over her. The Cathar was still looking about herself at all times and staying inconspicuous, but the quiet streets had led her to lessen her guard. She took a few more steps and looked about at the apartments until a voice in the dark surprised her. "Isolle," it called out from the shadows, "I was waiting for you."

That voice. It couldn't be. The Cathar stiffened quickly as though she had been struck by a blaster bolt. She turned her head towards the seemingly abandoned alleyway to her left. Her eyes scanned the darkness until she noticed a figure leaning against the wall, well out of sight unless thoroughly searched for. Upon being noticed, he walked over to the Cathar and held out his hand. "Don't attack now. Or have you forgotten me already?"

She hadn't forgotten. She had never forgotten. She couldn't forget even if she wanted to. Several emotions flooded her head at once, but her instinctive curiosity overcame a much darker emotion, boiling under the surface of her psyche. "Galduran," she all but hissed, "How did you know I was here?"

Now that Galduran was in a better light, Isolle could make out the human's features. The years had changed him. The vibrant, handsome young man she had once known had grown older. His youth had been ground away by the millstone of time: his once jet black hair had acquired a few strands of gray, and his once sparkling eyes had a new level of savviness that Isolle had never noticed before. Or, perhaps, she only saw it now because she had expected to see anything but honesty in them. As she looked into those eyes, her fur began to bristle.

Galduran most have noticed, but didn't seem to be on-guard or even wary. "Do you really think that I wouldn't keep tabs on Othar's group on Taris? I knew that you left, and that Coruscant is the only place with the contacts you need to get by," he concluded, "Now what I'd like to know is why you've left Taris in the first place."

A scowl crossed over Isolle's face. "You dare demand answers from me after what you did?" she snarled. She could feel rage gathering deep inside her as old wounds threatened to reopen.

"I am the head of this organization," Galduran replied evenly. He didn't share the inner conflict she was feeling, or at the very least wasn't showing it.

Isolle closed her eyes and tried to retain control of herself. She had to be stronger than this. She couldn't let him see what effect he had over her. "Not now," she managed with trembling words, "It is late, and I wish to sleep. I will tell you tomorrow."

She began to turn around, only to feel Galduran's hand clasp her shoulder. She would have gone for her blaster if she wasn't so shocked. His hand was on her shoulder. It was almost enough to make her lightheaded. "No, Isolle," Galduran insisted, "I know you have a tendency to disappear. You're not on Taris anymore, and around here I call the shots."

A moment passed. Galduran looked at the back of the Cathar's head, wondering why she had yet to reply. Then he heard her speak, her voice so quiet that it was almost unintelligible, "Take your hand off..."

She was near the breaking point. Of all the responses she would have had to him, Galduran had not expected this. He knew that the two of them shared a... trouble past, but the words coming from Isolle were like nothing he had heard before. There was something distressing about them. It was almost as though she were speaking from her soul - her words were soft, but full of the essence of passion that is only found in great leaders and heroes. She couldn't still... he wondered, but his thought was cut off when he realized his hand was still on her shoulder. He took it off.

Isolle immediately took a step forward, getting as much distance as she could from him. "No more, Galduran," she replied, her voice returning to normal, "I cannot do this tonight. Tomorrow. We talk of this tomorrow."

Galduran slowly nodded. "Tomorrow it is then, Isolle. You know where to meet me."

There was no reply. Isolle slowly slunk away, not looking back at him. Galduran watched the Cathar vanish into the inky blackness and said nothing. He closed his eyes. As a criminal, he lived for the present. As a leader, he planned for the future. He had tried to keep his past buried, and succeeded. He had not thought of Isolle in a long time. But while he had moved on, perhaps Isolle...

No more. He refocused his mind on his smuggling ring's business. If Isolle had fled Taris, perhaps Othar's ring was collapsing in on itself. The ramifications of that would be dire. As the leader of the smuggling ring, he had an obligation to the ring to chart a course of action.

Try as he might, though, the nagging question of Isolle still interrupted his normally focused mind time and time again during the long night.