Force Exile II: Smuggler/Part 6

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Quinlan Vos stepped down the boarding ramp and wrinkled his nose at the fetid smell of Nar Shaddaa. The air was laden with the odors of millions of inhabitants of numerous species and the pungent odor of the garbage and refuse they generated. The Smuggler’s Moon wasn’t exactly known for its hygiene, but it was a prime destination if one wanted to disappear. He had been here before, years ago. Then, his memory had been damaged and he had had to fight his way off the world in order to recover his past.

The packed masses of skyscrapers and speeders flitting between them like tiny flitnats still looked the same, and a dreary smog hung over the world. If Coruscant was a shining representation of galactic civilization, Nar Shaddaa was the galactic street urchin, underfed, dirty, and decidedly criminal. Its allure was in the fact that it was nearly impossible to find someone who didn’t want to be found on Nar Shaddaa. There were so many places to hide and the sheer volume of people made finding one sentient among billions a Herculean feat. That, of course, was exactly what Quinlan intended on doing. Somewhere on this world, his wife Khaleen and his Jedi friends were under cover, waiting for him.

Thinking of Khaleen again warmed his heart and brought him some hope. It had been a dark time for him recently, having recovered from battling his inner demons during the war only to be betrayed by his clones. That had been a hellish experience- fighting the clones and the wildlife of Kashyyyk until his long-time Devaronian smuggler acquaintance Vilmarh Grahrk had rescued him and conducted him offworld to New Holstice to heal. Then Villie had left him again. Now, though he had enjoyed being in the company of his current pilot, the former Jedi Selusda Kraen, he was ready to be with Khaleen again. He missed the sight of her, her long willowy hair offsetting her green eyes and slender figure. He missed the brush of her lips against his when he kissed her. He simply wanted to be with his wife again. They had been separated for far too long, but hopefully that would end soon. Stretching out with his Jedi perceptions, his mind roved through Nar Shaddaa seeking out her Force presence, but he didn’t find Khaleen. No matter, she probably wasn’t near the spaceport.

However, he soon felt another presence walk down the boarding ramp and turned to see Selu Kraen standing beside him.
 * “Any sign of your friends?” the younger Jedi asked Quinlan.
 * “Not immediately,” said Quinlan. “But I’m sure they’re not exactly being conspicuous.”
 * “True,” said Selu.

The two left unspoken the many dangers that still lurked on Nar Shaddaa. Bounty hunters, assassins, and anyone looking for a fat Imperial reward would jump at the chance to nab a Jedi Knight, or especially a Jedi Master such as Vos, and all of those various underworld types were plentiful on the Smuggler’s Moon.
 * “Well, whoever you’re hoping to meet must be important for you to be this persistent in finding them,” said Selu. “You know that you’re welcome to stay with us on the Hawk-bat of course. At least until we’ve settled some matters.”
 * “Thank you for the offer,” said Vos. “I appreciate it, but I think our paths will diverge soon.”
 * “Why do you say that?” asked Selu. “You’ve taught me so much- helped me reconnect to the Force.”
 * “A number of reasons,” said Quinlan. “One of them is that there are people waiting on me.”
 * “Jedi?” said Selu, thinking aloud. “That doesn’t make any sense though- if they were other Jedi, I would think you would introduce me to them.”

Then Selu’s memory clicked and he recalled some conversations he had overheard in the Jedi Temple.
 * “It’s a woman, isn’t it?” he said. “Khaleen Hentz, perhaps?”
 * “Yes, it is,” said Quinlan. “I don’t really want to know how you know who she is, but we’ve been married for some time.”
 * “It’s not a big deal now,” said Selu. “We’re not exactly bound by the Jedi Code, you know. Yoda isn’t going to kick you out of the Order, assuming he’s still alive.”
 * “No, but we should still adhere to its basic tenets. Still, I would have left the Order for Khaleen after the war anyway.”
 * “Well, that’s one reason. What’s the other one?”
 * “The Force has been telling me things whenever I try and look into your future, Selu. Just like everything else, it’s about as clear as Coruscant sky, but you are meant to be more than a freighter pilot.
 * “Right- me have a great destiny. Next you’ll be telling me that the fall of the Jedi was masterminded by some crazed holodrama consortium seeking to make a quick cred. That’s absurd.”
 * “I don’t usually think of the indications of the Force as absurd, Selu.”
 * “Well, I haven’t sensed anything like this,” said Selu.
 * “I’m so very glad that I have your vote of confidence,” replied Quinlan.
 * “Look, Master Vos, I was barely qualified to be a Jedi Knight back during the war and my skills haven’t exactly expanded since then. In fact, leading is the last thing I want to do. I can’t even keep my family out of trouble; much less keep a low profile.”
 * “Selu, you can argue with me all you want, but there’s no sense resisting your destiny.”
 * “Master Yoda said that the future was always in motion.”
 * “True. But there’s too much order in the universe for some things not to be set by the power of the Force. It doesn’t make sense. Don’t you think that some of the events in our lives are determined by the Force, while others are more easily influenced?”
 * “I suppose so. Is that why you had me take the lead in getting us off of New Holstice?”
 * “Basically. I knew that if you passed that test, you would be well prepared for future challenges.”
 * “What challenges? What have you seen?”
 * “Would you believe me if I told you that I didn’t exactly know?”

Selu rolled his eyes. “Probably not. It’s just another Master-Padawan test.” Quinlan shrugged. “You passed, didn’t you? We’re not dead and we’re off New Holstice relatively cleanly, right?”
 * “Okay, okay, point seen. Can I ask you a question?”
 * “You just did, but you can ask another.”
 * “Should I still be following the tenets of the Jedi Order even in seclusion? Obviously, staying in the light side is a must, but what about the things like staying isolated from your family.”
 * “Selu, the only thing I can absolutely tell you is what you already said: stay in the light side of the Force. In my opinion, the other parts of the Order’s regulations are not so absolute, and can therefore be eh, modified, if that’s what you wish. At any rate, I don’t see the point in adhering to the mandates of a defunct group.”
 * “So the Jedi are defunct.”
 * “As a galactic organization, yes. And we should remain that way, at least for awhile. We must make our own way in the galaxy until the Order is ready to rise again.”
 * “You’re right, I suppose. I just have one more question.”
 * “Am I going to spend the rest of my life answering you?”
 * “Well, I was only going to ask for an explanation of the galaxy and everything inside it, but in the light of that response, I’ll keep it simple. Why is that Devaronian on the landing pad across from us staring at you?”
 * “That’s the last reason our paths will probably diverge,” replied Vos, not even bothering to look over the expanse that separated the landing platforms suspended over the air and protruding from the spaceport building.
 * “Why?”
 * “Do you remember that I told you about a Devaronian acquaintance of mine who brought me off of Kashyyyk to New Holstice?”
 * “Of course,” said Selu. “Vilmarh Grahrk.”
 * “Well, that’s him. He’s probably wondering how I got here and if I’ve noticed him.”
 * “Shall we drop by and say hello?” inquired Selu.
 * “It would be rather unfriendly not to,” replied the Kiffar Jedi wryly. “I suspect he’d be thrilled to see me again.”

The two former Jedi walked back up the boarding ramp of the Hawk-bat, but stopped short of fully entering the ship. Calling on the Force, they cloaked themselves and walked back down to their landing platform. Jogging towards the edge, they both took a running start and launched themselves across the expanse with a Force leap towards the platform where Grahrk had parked his own battered-looking ship, the Inferno. As they landed, they let their Force-woven camouflage dissipate. At the sound of their boots hitting the rusty metal tarmac, Grahrk jumped in surprise and whirled around, blaster in hand. However, Selu was much faster. There was a lightsaber hilt pressed against the Devaronian’s sternum before he had even finished turning around.
 * “Hello Villie,” said Vos evenly, crossing his arms and turning to look sternly at the Devaronian.
 * “Ah, Quinlan Vos. Villie so glad to see you again,” Grahrk wheedled, drawing the Jed Master’s last name out into a sibilant hiss.
 * “I’m sure you are,” said Vos evenly.

Selu said nothing, but merely favored the roguish Devaronian with a dark look.
 * “Can Quinlan ask nice friend to remove lightsaber from Villie’s chest?”
 * “Maybe,” said Quinlan. “After you answer a few questions.”
 * “Villie always happy to help.”
 * “Then why did you leave me on New Holstice?”
 * “Silly Jedi. Doesn’t recognize Devaronian brilliance when he sees it.”
 * “Silly Devaronian. Doesn’t recognized annoyed Jedi with a lightsaber when he sees it,” said Selu, speaking for the first time.
 * “Heh heh, Jedi has point. To get his own point straight, Villie came to Nar Shaddaa to pick up Quinlan’s Jedi friends and yum-yum. Then Villie was going to be coming back to New Holstice with friends and everyone be happy again. Except now Quinlan is here.”
 * “I’m glad to see you’re as honest and well-planned as ever Villie. So where are they then?” asked Vos.
 * “Not on Nar Shaddaa,” replied the Devaronian cunningly.
 * “What? Are you sure about that?” said Quinlan.
 * “Villie very sure. Been lookin’ for them for couple weeks, Villie has. Yum-yum and Jedi not here, but Jedi forget how well connected and brilliant Villie is.”
 * “Get to the point, Grahrk.”
 * “Jedi so impatient. Villie knows where they went.”
 * “Where?”
 * “Kashyyyk.”
 * “Why did they go there?”
 * “Villie hear that she was here, but left. Went to Kashyyyk looking for someone. You, methinks. No one else on Kashyyyk but Wookiees and bucketheads. Is remembering you said something about seeing her on Nar Shaddaa after you left Kashyyyk.”
 * “If you’re lying to me, Villie. . .”
 * “Villie not lie. Not this time. Is no way to make friends.”
 * “Friends, eh? Do friends strand friends on planets for weeks at a time?”
 * “Is very sorry about that, Villie is. Regrettable. Villie not wanting to be captured by bucketheads. Villie could make it up to Jedi though.”
 * “And how is that?”
 * “Villie slip you back into Kashyyyk, go see yum-yum and Jedi pals again.”

Quinlan considered the Devaronian’s offer. As annoying and generally untrustworthy as Villie could be, he did seem to be sincere about knowing where Khaleen was. His longing to see her again filled him, and in that moment, he decided.
 * “All right, Grahrk,” he said, shouldering his small bag of possessions. “Let’s make space.”
 * “In that case, this appears to be good-bye, Master Vos,” said Selu.
 * “That it does,” said Vos gravely. “I’m sorry to leave, but there are people waiting for me. We each have obligations to tend to.”
 * “True,” said Selu wanly.

Any such notion of he and Quinlan dispatching wave after wave of Mistryl together vanished like a credcoin in front of a politician.
 * “May the Force be with you,” said Selu, as Vos turned to board the ship.
 * “And with you, Selu,” said Vos. “And remember what I said about destiny.”

Vos smiled, then turned and walked up the ramp of the Inferno after Grahrk. As the Jedi Master disappeared, Selu stood there as the ship began powering up. Eventually, he realized that he should probably move. Camouflaging himself once more, he leapt back to his own platform, saddened by the departure of the Jedi Master. As close and guarded as Vos had been, his presence had been a reminder of happier days and fonder memories. The Jedi Master had also helped Selu regain confidence in his use of the Force, not to mention getting off of New Holstice. Now, he was once again stuck on a strange world and not with the best of crowds anyways. A mental check of the crew of the Hawk-bat reminded him that he was shipping with a despondent first mate and a stowaway combat instructor. And no captain. Great. Just great.

Selu looked out over the crowded, chaotic vistas of Nar Shaddaa. There was no order to the world, just teeming masses of people trying to survive and subsist on whatever income they could earn or take off those who had earned income. He sighed. It was ugly to him, just as ugly as the battlefields of the Clone Wars had been. Everywhere he looked, people were suspicious, selfish, and secretive. And those were the role models of society- it went down hill from there. The sooner he was off of this world, the better. Watching as a pair of Ugnaught techs refueled the Hawk-bat, he figured he could lift off in about an hour or so if all went well. Fat chance of that happening.
 * “Are you okay?”

Selu, startled, turned, expecting to see Spectre standing next to him. However, the voice was all wrong, and it turned out to be Milya.
 * “Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking,” he said.
 * “You must have been thinking pretty hard if you didn’t even notice me coming down the ramp. You’re usually pretty alert,” she said.
 * “Is that so?” he said.

Selu was not in the mood to play mind games with Milya. There were too many other things on his mind for that, and he didn’t respond to her attempt to prod him into conversation with her observations.
 * “It’s obvious something is eating away at your thrusters,” she said. “There’s no point in trying to hide it.”
 * “Look,” said Selu sharply. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I have a lot on my mind right now that I’m not inclined to share, so if you’d just leave it alone . . .”
 * “Fine,” she said, turning to walk back up the boarding ramp.

Thoroughly perturbed by now, Selu stared out into space until the ship was ready for liftoff. Who did she think she was, trying to worm her way into his life like that? Silently, he then returned to the cockpit and began warming up the ship, speaking in monosyllables and only when addressed by one of the other crew. Even as the ship lifted off of the gloomy moon and shot into space, he was quiet, contemplating and brooding over the disappearance of yet another mentor figure. First, it had been Plo Koon, and the Empire had killed him- which they still needed to pay for- then there was R’hask Sei’lar, who had met a similarly un-avenged fate. Now Quinlan Vos, whom he had only interacted with for a few weeks, was gone. To add to his worries, there was a niggling sense of danger or threat that he kept sensing. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. The sooner they were back on Commenor, the better, he figured as he made the jump into hyperspace.
 * Commenor

Annita Daowot reached for her fifth cup of steaming caf of the night. Sitting at her extremely cluttered desk while poring over various droid analyses and investigative reports of the Mistryl attacks, she yawned and ran a hand through her thoroughly mussed hair. It was extremely late at night, but she couldn’t stop now. The lone glowpanel in the room illuminated the datapads, datacards, and other various articles of equipment she was using that were strewn across her desk. This case had been doing its best to stymie her, but Annita refused to give up. Besides the irresistible challenge the Mistryl seemed to present, the added personal dimension fueled her resolve to crack the case and determine where the other Mistryl were lurking. Some of them were still her, she was certain of it. The problem was that there was no way to tell when they had arrived or what ship they had landed in, at least not thus far.

Part of her mind hoped that, by solving the case, that Sarth Kraen would finally appreciate her and view as something more than an old friend. She had thought the world of him for years, only to now find him not nearly so high- a mere freighter engineer- and still as unapproachable as ever with his attraction to his crewmember- Cassi was her name? For some reason, his intelligence and close-knit family had drawn her to him and she couldn’t persuade her heart to cut off that desire. Saving each other’s life in that café shootout hadn’t done anything to assuage that desire either. On the other hand, he was still just as obstinate and oblivious to her feelings as ever, treating her with more concern and pity than respect or platonic interest.

Sighing, Annita returned to the spaceport traffic pattern analysis she had been looking over. There was nothing to it but to get back to work. Perhaps if she narrowed her search parameters, the computer would give a clearer resolve. She was searching for young to middle aged human females who had arrived within the last two months, but had come up with a huge list of possibilities. Assuming the Mistryl had some proficiency in forging passports and identicards, there was no easy way to facilitate some sort of sorting query. Meaning that each entry would have to be hand-checked, and even that might not yield anything.

Suddenly, she was distracted by the sound of something slamming into a wall or floor. She reached for her comlink to call Dolp, the lone guard on duty at the Investigator station, when the door to her small and rather crowded office burst open. A lithe looking woman wielding a blaster and wearing a dark jumpsuit and hood strode into the room and Annita unexpectedly found herself staring down the business end of a blaster pistol.
 * “Drop your weapon,” said the woman, with a voice like cold iron.

Annita complied numbly, carefully extracting the service blaster from its holster and dropping it on the floor. She had never been really proficient with the weapon anyway; its presence had been intended as more of a deterrent than a threat. It clattered loudly as it landed on the dull tile floor.
 * “Now get up and come quietly. Hands in the air, you know the drill. Make a false move and I’ll blow a hole through your dense skull,” ordered her captor.

With no other real option, Annita stood up, raising her hands above her head.
 * “What do you want with me?” she managed.

Her answer was a sudden, swift starburst of pain in the back of her head that sent her to her knees as her vision wavered. A strangely functional part of her mind connected the pain as likely caused by being hit with the barrel of the blaster.
 * “You will not speak unless I want you to. You will not move unless I want you to. You will not do anything unless I want you to. Is that clear?” grated the hooded woman.

Fighting back tears and waves of pain shooting through her skull, Annita nodded, wincing at the additional agony that the motion caused.
 * “Good. Get up.”

Annita staggered to her feet and, at an indication from her attacker, walked down the hallways to the back entrance of the Investigator station. As she walked, she noticed Dolp slumped onto the ground with fresh facial and neck contusions and a bloody nose, obviously dead, at the end of a small blood slick that started a little less than two meters on the wall. Her training in forensics told her that he had died from some sort of throat-inflicted wound that had apparently killed him by destroying his larynx. The bruises and damage to the face were likely the result of blunt trauma. Connecting that with the sound she had heard earlier, it was likely that the intruder had slammed Dolp face-first into the wall, and then jabbed him in the throat to kill. Annita shuddered. Approaching an armed guard face-first and then dispatching him unarmed before he could get off a shot implied both arrogant expertise and a level of brazenness not typically found in criminals. The neck jab alone indicated years of training and experience, as well as casual lethality. This wasn’t a local crime job. This was a professional, whoever she was, or really desperate. Or both.

Guided by terse orders of the woman, who was careful to avoid revealing the position of her blaster by poking her with it, Annita was conducted out the back entrance of the Investigator station. Outside, she found that it was rather cold and rainy. Apparently, a cold front had blown in while she was working and now she shivered from the wind’s chill as the stinging rain pelted her. Her head throbbed as the water hit it and she was quickly soaked by the driving precipitation. She was led away from the entrance to a dank alley, where a fully enclosed, nondescript gray speeder was parked.
 * “Get in,” ordered her captor.

Annita hesitated. The odds of rescue diminished rapidly after one was carried away from the site of abduction, and the speeder would allow her to be taken across a continent if her kidnapper so desired. Suddenly, an arm grabbed her uniform at the nape of the neck and slammed her face into the side of the speeder truck. Reeling, Annita was vaguely aware of the metallic taste of blood on her lips. Her captor drew her back again, but this time opened the door first and shoved her in. Annita tumbled onto the speeder truck, cold, wet, and still stunned. However, the woman lost no time in quickly pinning her arms behind her back and painfully securing a pair of binders around her wrists, wrenching Annita’s arms until she thought they would be pulled out of their sockets.

A few seconds later, the woman slid into the driver’s seat in one sinuous motion and pulled the speeder away from the alley. Lying in the back of the vehicle, Annita had no way of telling where they were going and dared not risk moving for fear of retaliation at the hands of her captor. At that point, Annita’s rational mind finally realized that she was kidnapped, with no way to escape or be tracked, and by an assailant who appeared to be completely ruthless. The various horrible fates that ran through her mind tormented and taunted her. Damp and shivering, she hoped it was all a terrifying nightmare, but to no avail.
 * Elsewhere on Commenor

Sarth Kraen sat quietly by the hospital bed, trying to tear his eyes away from the horrific injuries of the man lying there. The former ARC trooper Twone had sustained them while trying to protect him and his family from Mistryl Shadow Guards and, even two days after a full team of Securers had evacuated his family and the surviving bodyguards from the compromised safe house to a secure government medcenter, the ex-trooper still lingered between life and death. Twone’s partner, Spectre, had also been injured, but much less severely. He was ambulatory, but still weak. The other bodyguards, the Twi’lek Bwilor and the Tunroth Drelve Tlaleo had suffered minor injuries also, though Bwilor would walk with a limp for the rest of his life as a result of a blaster wound. Selu grimaced as the remorse hit him again. This was just the latest in the list of people who had been injured or killed trying to protect him from the Mistryl. Was there to be no peace for him? He had never done anything to him, but his knowledge of droid programming made him a target for seizure for the Mistryl war effort, and they didn’t seem to let up. Maybe the only solution was to surrender - after all, hiding from them didn’t seem to work that well and even a Jedi and two of the elite ARC troopers had barely managed to hold them off.
 * “He’ll be okay, Sarth,” said Cassi, sitting beside him.

Turning to face her, Sarth saw the bandage on her chin and was again reminded of how those he loved were being placed in danger by him.
 * “Even if he is going to make it, that’s not good enough,” said Sarth.
 * “What do you mean?” she said.
 * “The Mistryl won’t stop hunting me, Cassi. Even if I keep hiding and avoiding them, people will die- and all because of me. I won’t have that.”
 * “Don’t be ridiculous,” Cassi replied.
 * “I’m not being ridiculous. I have to surrender, Cassi. There’s no other way.”
 * “Have you told your parents?”
 * “No, and I’m not going to until I’m already gone,” he said. “I’ve already written them a letter on my datapad, but I don’t want them trying to dissuade me also. I almost didn’t tell you, but I thought you needed to know.”
 * “Sarth, you don’t have to do this. Don’t leave me,” she said.
 * “No, I do,” he said. “I’m leaving you because I love you and I don’t want you to be hurt anymore.”
 * “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?” said Cassi, her tone filled with resignation and realization.
 * “Yes, I have,” said Sarth.
 * “At least tell your parents,” she said. “Let them see you off, one last time.”
 * “It won’t be the last time,” said Sarth.

However, their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a heavily armed Securer sergeant with a datapad.
 * “Secure transmission for Sarth Kraen from a Micor Kraen,” he said.
 * “That’ll be for me. Thank you, sergeant,” said Sarth.

Sarth took the datapad and activated it as the sergeant turned and left.
 * “Sarth, how are you? Is this link secure?” said Selu as his face shimmered into view on the datapad.
 * “I’m good, uh, Micor,” said Sarth. “And yes, the link is secure.”
 * “Understood,” said Selu. “Sorry about the delay- there was an embargo and communications blackout that kept us from leaving New Holstice. And there were other complications as well. Look, it’s a long story, but you need to know this: R’hask Sei’lar is dead.”
 * “What? How?” asked Sarth.
 * “There was a shootout between government forces and rebels and R’hask got caught in the, uh, crossfire. We had to ‘persuade’ the local garrison that he wasn’t really involved, but we got offworld after some tense negotiations and the help of an old friend. I’ll tell you the complete story later. Oh, and we also have a stowaway who helped me deal with some ship thieves. I told her that I would take her at least to Commenor. That’s another herd of nerfs to sort through.”

Sarth sat back, shocked. Selu’s report was overloading to say the least and his synapses were having a hard time processing the deluge of new information. Next to him, Cassi sat in a similar state, clearly distraught.
 * “I know, it’s shocking. It’s hard for everyone here too, especially Jorge,” said Selu. “I’m insystem now, so I’ll meet you at your location if you can provide that.”
 * “I’ll get the coordinates to you,” said Sarth, barely able to speak.

Renewed grief had caused a giant lump to form in his throat, so getting the words out was rather difficult. Sarth felt even more overwhelmed than before. Part of him wanted to ask his brother a thousand questions, but the other part of him wanted to just curl up in a ball and will it all away. Except for the presence of Cassi and parents, his life seemed to be turning into one waking nightmare. He wasn’t sure how much more he could deal with.
 * “We had to move after another attack. Cassi, my parents and I are okay, but the bodyguards were injured pretty badly,” Sarth explained.
 * “Another attack?” said Selu concernedly.
 * “Don’t worry, we fended them off. Anyway, here’s the landing co-“

Suddenly, the hologram sparked, flickered, and was replaced by another image. A hooded woman’s face appeared, a slight smile adorning the jade-hard face.
 * “What in the seven Corellian hells?!” swore Sarth.
 * “Good evening,” said a cool, hard voice. “I trust that Sarth Kraen is one end of this transmission. Don’t worry- this is pre-recorded, so I can’t see your precious little secrets and you can’t trace my location.

Suddenly, Spectre was inside the room, holdout blaster at the ready and looking with a dark fury at the holographic image.
 * “I called the Securers,” said Spectre. “That’s one of them isn’t it?”

There was no doubt as to who he was talking about. Cassi, numb and pale with fright, nodded faintly.
 * “I congratulate you, Kraen. You’ve put up a long and difficult fight, but it’s over. We would have you gotten you eventually, but this way will be much less difficult, I think.”

Sarth, Cassi, Spectre, and Selu stared at the image in grim horror as it continued.
 * “You have apparently surrounded yourself with competent and skillful guards, but your friend here was not so prudent.”

The image suddenly shifted to show a drenched Annita, gagged and bound with her hands behind her and a pained expression on her face. The dark background betrayed no indication of where the holo had been taken.
 * “Yes. I have her, and I want you. Here’s the deal- no negotiation. You arrive at Munto Spaceport Bay 38 in three hours alone and unarmed, or I kill her- slowly. Even if she meant nothing to you, the knowledge that the death of this innocent is on your hands will haunt you for the rest of your life. Bring any kind of datacards or whatever that you need to for your programming, but don’t try anything stupid.”

With that, the transmission flickered and returned to Selu’s face.
 * “Did you catch all of that?” asked Sarth ashenly.
 * “Every word,” replied Selu grimly.
 * “Then you know that there’s only option,” said Sarth. “I have to turn myself in.”
 * “And go to Mistryl captivity willingly?” asked Selu incredulously.
 * “You heard her,” said Sarth doggedly. “She’ll kill Annita, and it’ll be my fault. There’s no other choice.”
 * “There’s always a choice. Hold fast until I arrive, then we can talk. Did you trace the signal?”
 * “The Securers tried, but nothing doing,” broke in Spectre.
 * “I figured as much. I’m setting down in Munto soon- give me the coordinates and I will meet you shortly.”
 * “Not a good idea,” said Spectre. “This ‘secure’ transmission has already been broken once- they could be eavesdropping.”
 * “Give it to me in code, then,” said Selu.

Spectre gave Selu the coordinates in a series of ARC hand gestures developed for communication during the Clone Wars.
 * “Got it,” said Selu, after he finished.
 * “What are you going to do?” asked Sarth.
 * “I have an idea,” said Selu. “Just trust me. Spectre, keep an eye on things until I get there.”
 * “Copy. Spectre out,” replied the ARC, shutting off the comm.
 * “All right,” said Selu to Jorge. “Take over the landing please.”
 * “Why? What’s the matter?”
 * “I need to do some thinking and meditating.”

With that, Selu vacated his pilot’s chair, striding down the corridor past a startled Milya back to his quarters.

Spectre stood wearily, trying to assess the situation and come up with an alternative to Sarth surrendering to the Mistryl. So far, he was having a difficult time conceptualizing a scenario in which the Mistryl died and Annita and Sarth didn’t. ARCs were good at improvisation, but he wasn’t one hundred percent. Actually, he was barely fit for combat, if even that. The burns on his back and leg were still very fresh, but he pushed back the pain. People were counting on him to make something happen. Suddenly, his concentration was disrupted by Twone’s voice.
 * “Spectre,” called Twone hoarsely.
 * “What is it?” said Spectre, kneeling down at the ARC’s bed.

The injured soldier was pale and shaking, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
 * “Not . . . gonna last much longer,” said Twone. “I’m get-getting weaker.”
 * “No!” said Spectre sharply. “You’ll be fine. Just pull through it.”
 * “Listen to me,” said Twone, coughing slightly. “Sorry I couldn’t, couldn’t get them all.”
 * “It’s not your fault,” said Spectre.
 * “I-I know what the pilot is going to do.”
 * “What?”
 * “He’s wearing a lightsaber- forgot to take it off during transmission. He’s your Jedi . . . friend, isn’t he?”

Spectre thought about it, then admitted the truth. Twone wasn’t in a position to harm anyone at the moment, nor even turn Selu in to the Empire. At least, not for now.
 * “Yes, he is Sarth Kraen’s Jedi brother. I knew him during the war.”
 * “Tell him I’m s-sorry about his friend on Cato. I understand now . . . about the Jedi and their sacrifices.”
 * “All right. But what is he going to do?”
 * “Come . . . closer.”

Spectre leaned in close and Twone hoarsely whispered to him what the Jedi planned on doing. In response, Spectre’s eyes widened.
 * “Are you sure?” he asked.

But he received no answer. Twone’s eyes were frozen forever. Spectre put a hand to his neck and found no pulse. Glancing up at the lifesign monitor confirmed it: Twone was gone. Too late, a nurse rushed in and began performing attempts at resuscitation and other orderlies and medical droids followed. Spectre backed off and let them through, remaining knelt on the floor several paces away.

Eventually, Spectre sat up and that motion hurt more than any injury he had ever sustained did. He had been shot nearly to pieces on several occasions and had seen countless comrades die, but somehow seeing Twone’s cheery face frozen in the rigor mortis of death hurt more than anything before. Losing a friend was a relatively new experience for him. It was much simpler in the army. When people died, orders took precedence and commitment to the GAR was placed over individual survival. There were no friends- only brothers and comrades and superiors and civilians. Things weren’t so clean cut now. Now that he was out of the army, what anchor did he have to cling onto in the middle of loss? He hadn’t been working for Bwilor long enough for any type of lasting commitment to endure, and there wasn’t that same brotherhood between the Durashield Employees as there had been in the army. Spectre tried to ignore the dull ache in his gut unsuccessfully, but the realization that Twone was gone forever would haunt him for awhile. Never one for expressing emotion, he sat rigidly for awhile, disregarding all concepts of time, his face frozen in a visage of intensity.
 * “Seed the stars, Twone,” he said softly, reciting the ARC creed.

Spectre was still sitting like that when Selusda Kraen filed in an hour later, followed by Jorge and Milya. The Jedi stopped at the sight of Spectre and the now-shrouded body of the ex-trooper. Motioning the other two on ahead into the room where Sarth, Cassi, Lena, and Samtel were, he stood there silently.
 * “What happened?” he asked finally.
 * “He didn’t make it,” said Spectre quietly. “Twone gave his life to take out some of the Mistryl and warn me of the danger.”
 * “In that case, he died defending my family,” said Selu. “Rest assured, I will not forget it.”

Spectre looked up at Selu, and for the first time let his pain be expressed on his face.
 * “He wanted you to know something,” Spectre said. “You knew Bairdon Jace, didn’t you?”
 * “Yes,” said Selu, the name conjuring up memories and pain. “He was a colleague and friend of mine. He was killed on Cato Neimodia.”
 * “Twone was one of the ones on Cato Neimodia when the order came down, and he followed his orders. He killed your friend those months ago. He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry, that he understood now.”
 * “What?” said Selu, his respect for the former ARC nearly ruined by the anger that arose at the thought of Bairdon being cruelly gunned down. “How did he know who I was?”
 * “You forgot to take off your lightsaber during your transmission.”
 * “I wondered if anyone had noticed that,” said Selu, the lightsaber now safely tucked away. “I realized what I had done after the conversation ended. What did Twone understand?”
 * “He said he understood why the Jedi were so willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good after he did the same thing. He wouldn’t have wanted hard feelings.”

Selu slowly composed himself and realized that Spectre was right. The past couldn’t be altered. Instead of clinging on to resentment, he released the sentiment and honored the sacrifice of the ex-trooper. Twone had been following orders when he killed Jace, but had voluntarily given his life to save Sarth. In that sense, it seemed to Selu that the trooper had been made of nobler stuff than it seemed initially. Following orders was the duty of all the clone troopers, as horrific and treacherous as it seemed, but Selu could think of no greater sacrifice than to willingly lay down one’s life for another, especially someone who was not well known to him. No matter what Twone had done to Bairdon Jace, he had died to save Sarth, and that was what mattered at the moment.
 * “I am indebted to him. He was a great warrior,” Selu said finally, not yet meeting Spectre’s eyes.
 * “He told me what you were going to do, about the choice of the Jedi. He was right, wasn’t he?”

Selu looked Spectre straight in the eye.
 * “Yes, old friend. I am.”
 * “Are you going to tell the others?”
 * “No. There isn’t time for argue it out with them. I need to do this quickly and I need your help to pull it off. Whenever Sarth goes to do what he has to, I’ll be one step ahead of him. Would you do something else for me?”
 * “What is it?” replied Spectre, resisting the urge to automatically add the “sir” honorific to each sentence when addressing a Jedi.
 * “Give this to them,” Selu said, handing Spectre a disk. “There are some specific instructions for you on there. I suppose it goes without saying that it’s imperative that they’re carried out.”
 * “Understood.”

And with that, Selu turned sharply and left the room, heading for his appointment with destiny.

14
Helsi waited quietly in Bay 38, crouched in the corner beside a tramp freighter. She glanced at her chrono: It was time. Filled with anticipation, she waited for Kraen to enter the deserted hangar, staying vigilant for any signs of a trap. If so, she had a contingency plan prepared for that eventuality. Her dark gray suit allowed her to blend in nicely with the walls and shadows of the night. The dimly lit bay would allow her to get a good look at any visitors before they saw her, unless they were equipped with infrared goggles. Even still, her vantage position and specially tooled blaster rifle and other surprises would give her the upper hand in a lightfight.

However, she was not disappointed. Precisely at the expected time, Kraen walked into the hangar bay, dragging a small hoversled with a decent-sized cylinder on it. She peered through her electrobinoculars at him, and saw that he was expectant and pensive and definitely more than a little unsettled. Good. She checked her perimeter sensors and hacked Securer feeds for a government presence or other interlopers. There were none. Kraen appeared to be truly alone.
 * “I’m here,” he called, raising his hands into the air. “Where are you?”
 * “Right here,” she said softly into a microphone.

Her voice activated a small holoprojector concealed on the gray tarmac and a full-size image of her appeared in front of Kraen, speaking an amplified version of her words. At the sudden appearance of the hologram, Kraen took a step back, clearly surprised.
 * “Nice trick,” he said, regaining his composure. “Where’s Annita?”
 * “Oh, her. Why, she’s back at your home, Kraen. The security droids and guards were amusing, to say the least. You might want to get to her quickly though. When I last saw her, she was secured facedown into that little pond of yours with a temporary rebreather that was good for an hour. That was forty-five standard minutes ago. That’ll give all those Securer friends of yours something to do instead of trying to spy on our little conversation.
 * “I’m alone,” he said.
 * “Then take that comlink out of your ear,” she ordered.

Kraen complied, slowly and carefully setting the earpiece on the ground.
 * “Are you armed?” she asked.
 * “Yes,” he said. “I’m carrying a DC-15s sidearm.”
 * “Take it out slowly and blast your comlink,” she said. “And don’t do anything stupid or I’ll put you down. My superiors aren’t particular if I bring you back with a nasty leg wound.”

Kraen slowly complied, first drawing the blaster out from the holster in his dark spacer’s jacket and then turning it on the comlink, the sound of the blaster report echoing through the deserted hangar. If that didn’t bring out the Securers, nothing would. No one came running. So far, it seemed like everything was going according to the book.
 * “Now set the blaster down and slide it away from you,” she said.

Again, Kraen complied, slowly and carefully pushing the weapon away from him.
 * “What is the cylinder?” she asked.
 * “It’s a shielded computer core with my research and data onboard,” he said.
 * “That’s rather large, isn’t it?”
 * “I added additional shielding and capability to it so it couldn’t be remotely accessed or scanned,” said Selu. “It’s essential to my work and only I can open it. If someone else tries to, it will erase itself into a piled of fused circuit slag.”
 * “Fine, fine,” she said.

A quick scan of it with a hand scanner showed that it contained computer circuitry and a shielded core, like he had said, but other than that, all seemed well. No trackers or homing devices were detected, and if there was one inside that core, that heavy metal shielding would block both incoming and outgoing signals, rendering it useless. It was time for the second part of the plan, and it was right on time.

Then Kraen seemed to notice the droning sound that had been steadily growing louder in volume. Then he looked up and saw the light freighter barely skimming over the rooftops. The craft roared over the spaceport, the whine of its repulsorlifts deafening, until it was hovering over Bay 38 with its boarding ramp extended.
 * “Don’t move,” said the hologram.

Helsi switched off the transmitter and broke from cover, hurling a pair of small objects at the ground near Kraen. They both detonated in billowing clouds of thick smoke. The smoke grenades had the desired effect of disguising her motions. Lunging forward, she grabbed Kraen and half pulled, half dragged him into the parked tramp freighter. As she ascended the parked vessel, the hovering freighter slowly lifted and retracted its boarding ramp, accelerating away with a thunderous roar of its thrusters.

Once safely inside the freighter, she knocked the disoriented Kraen down onto the deck and placed the muzzle of her blaster against her face.
 * “Be very, very quiet and don’t even think about running,” she hissed, securing his wrists with a pair of binders. Taking another set, she attached one cuff to his ankle and the other to a column in the entranceway. That way, he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Kraen nodded slightly and she went back down the ramp to retrieve the hoversled before the smoke cloud shielding it and her from vision dissipated. After she dragged into the cargo hatch, she secured both it and the main hatch and waited patiently, watching Kraen with a hawkish expression. Helsi did not feel like taking chances that he had a trick up his sleeve, even if he did scan cleanly as not wearing a transmitter or anything so annoyingly juvenile.

Ten minutes later, she headed forward to the cockpit. After receiving permission to take off, she lifted the shabby freighter off the tarmac and into space. Hiring a local malcontent to fly his freighter low with ramp down had been a diversion, and judging by the amount of official attention he had drawn, it had been highly successful. Any government forces had been pulled off of her tail by the need to rescue the captive Annita and force the diversionary craft to land. The Commenorians might figure out which ship she had actually been on, but by then, she would have cleared hyperspace. It was finally over. She had won at last. That thought brought a smug smile to her relatively young face as she jumped her ship into hyperspace. A quick stop at the rendezvous point and the next stop would be Emberlene.

Circling back after buzzing the spaceport, Egram Slark smiled quietly to himself. When the hooded woman had offered him a thousand credits to fly right over the spaceport and lower his boarding ramp, he had jumped at the opportunity to get paid for pulling off a daredevil stunt like that. It only added to the commission he was getting paid by his other employer. Which reminded him; he needed to inform them of developments before the government vehicles arrived to search his ship. He quickly activated the hidden communications system that he had bootlegged from a Separatist military shipment, dialing it to a frequency given to him a few days ago.
 * “This is Slark. The package and the deliveryman are onboard and safely wrapped up.”
 * “Are you sure?” replied a voice on the other end, his usual superior, Qel-Shan, but he thought someone else was on this frequency also.

Whoever it was, they were certainly being careful to not show themselves.
 * “Oh yes. I was even paid to help them create a diversion.”
 * “Excellent work, captain,” broke in a new voice.
 * “Who is that?” Slark asked. “That’s not Qel-Shan.”
 * “You’re right, it’s not,” said Qel-Shan. “And you know better than to ask unnecessary questions.”
 * “Don’t worry about it,” said the unfamiliar voice. “This is Jorj Car’das. I took a personal interest in this particular operation and decided to follow your progress. At any rate, well done, Slark. There’ll be a bonus in it for you- Qel-Shan will see to it.”

Then, the system cut off. Slark sat in quiet silence for in a minute, in awe at what he had just heard. The head of the entire organization had taken an interest in his activities and had thought he had conducted himself well. A slow smile of elation spread across his face as the spacer debarked from his ship to collect his payment, wondering what to do with his newly earned credits.
 * Somewhat earlier

Sarth Kraen sat quietly in front of his parents, trying to break the news of his decision to them. So far, it wasn’t going well and he was still in a hurry. He wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, and a knot was welling up in his stomach from the anxiety. However, there were no other options that involved someone not being killed. Finding the Mistryl was pretty much impossible, as the Securer sergeant had already told him, though they were trying. Now he had to sit here and endure the pained expressions on his parents’ faces as he explained what he was going to do.
 * “You’re going to do what?” said Lena in disbelief.
 * “I have to turn myself in to the Mistryl,” said Sarth. “At least I can try to work something out.”
 * “That’s foolishness, son,” said Samtel.
 * “I know,” said Sarth. “But there’s no other way. They’ll kill Annita just to get me, and I won’t let that happen. The deadline is coming up, so I need to go. I just came to say goodbye.”
 * “That won’t be necessary,” said a new voice.

Lena, Samtel, and Sarth all turned to see Spectre standing in the doorway.
 * “What do you mean?” said Sarth.
 * “If you want to find out, join me in the main waiting room. The others are already there,” Spectre replied enigmatically.

Thoroughly perplexed, Sarth got up and followed the former ARC. There was little point in arguing with the flinty-eyed trooper and something in Spectre’s tone told him that he would brook no argument anyway. Lena and Samtel, looking somewhat relieved but still worried, followed after him and Spectre brought up the rear.

Walking in the waiting room, Sarth found that Jorge and Cassi were already there, along with the stowaway Milya while Bwilor and Drelve waited outside. There had been barely any time for introductions, so he was somewhat leery of her and altogether ambivalent about the security guards. The others he knew well, even Spectre, between what Selu had told him and the experiences of living in close proximity with the trooper for a few weeks. After he and his parents filed in, Spectre stopped and closed the door securely behind them.
 * “What is it, Spectre? I can’t afford to miss the deadline.”
 * “You won’t need to worry about that,” replied Spectre.

Taking a small disc from his belt, he tossed it on the ground, where a hologram materialized upon impact.
 * “Good evening, friends and family,” intoned the holo of Selu Kraen formally.

His hair was freshly cut, and his slowly re-growing beard was once again completely trimmed off. He was wearing spacer’s garb, but resembled Sarth closely even more than usual.
 * “Sarth, I want to address you first. I know what you were planning on doing, and I couldn’t let you do it. I’m going in your place instead. I look a lot like you, and the Mistryl won’t necessarily notice the distance. I have the skills and training I need to help me survive, so don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine. Don’t try and interfere. First, I’m already on my way. Second, I had Spectre slice into your genetic records and replace them with mine and he’s agreed to keep you from going anyway. This was my decision to make.”
 * “To Samtel and Lena, I regret the pain and loss that this message will bring you. In the short time that we’ve been reunited, I’ve grown to appreciate your love and concern for me. I will do my best to return safely. If I do not, I just want to say that I am so grateful that I was able to meet you. I love you both dearly.”
 * “To Spectre and by extension the rest of Durashield Securities: Let me extend my gratitude to you for your valiant efforts in protecting my family. As R’hask Sei’lar is deceased and I will be dealing with the Mistryl, please inform Bwilor that you are released from any further obligations of your contract. Jorge will take care of your financial reimbursement from the captain’s accounts. I went over Cap’n Sei’lar’s will on the trip over here and Jorge was the sole beneficiary.”
 * “Finally, to the crew of the Hawk-bat, it is up to you to decide who will be your new captain in whatever way you see fit with the unfortunate death of R’hask Sei’lar.”
 * “May the For-fortune be with you all.”

With that, the hologram nodded and the projector shut off.
 * “Micor told me that he just reached the spaceport,” said Spectre. “He’s wearing a small earpiece comlink, though he doesn’t expect it to last long.”

Samtel and Lena, both with tears streaming down their faces, looked up at him.
 * “Is there anything we can do to help him?” asked Samtel.
 * “Not really,” said Spectre. “The Mistryl wanted him to come alone. He went in with only his sidearm.”

Pulling his own earpiece out, Spectre took the small comlink and plugged it into his datapad, allowing the audio feed to be broadcast.
 * “We’ll be able to hear him, but he can’t hear us,” said Spectre. “We rigged it that way in case it was a trap to triangulate our location.”

For the next several minutes, everyone in the room sat quietly, listening to Selu interact with the Mistryl in the hangar bay. Tension filled the air as everyone hoped for the best. Selu was really the only link between them all, as Lena and Samtel did not know Jorge, and Jorge and Cassi did not know Spectre, Bwilor, or Drelve. Milya even more so remained a mystery to most of them; for the most part, she sat quietly in one corner after being introduced. However, after Annita’s location was announced, Sarth stood up quickly.
 * “We have to go rescue her,” he said.
 * “Securers are probably better for that if it’s a trap,” Spectre replied. “They have plenty of time to get there.”
 * “But we’re closer and the Mistryl could be lying. I’m not willing to take that chance,” Sarth replied. “At any rate, I’m going to go save my friend, since I can’t save my brother.”
 * “I’m coming with you,” said Cassi.
 * “I’ll go with them,” said Spectre. “Jorge, you hold things down here.”

Bwilor and Drelve looked like they were about to say something as they walked by, but all three of them were already out the door before they had a chance to speak, Sarth on a comlink to the Securers, apprising them of the situation.

Ten minutes later, in a borrowed fast-moving speeder, the four arrived at the Kraen residence, with Spectre strapping on the last few pieces of his armor. The sky was overcast and gloomy, a chill wind whipping through the surrounding woods and rustling the leaves. The place was deserted, with no sign of the two Securers who were stationed here. Parking the speeder on the driveway, they quickly ran up to the decorative pool on the side of the house. There, bound hand and foot and strapped facedown in the water was Annita. Apparently, any earlier struggling had exhausted her, which was bad for two reasons: She might have spent all the oxygen available from the rebreather faster than expected and she also might be too weak to help them. Sarth started down towards her position, but Spectre stopped him swiftly.
 * “Let me go first,” said the former trooper. “There might be traps.”
 * “She might die if we don’t hurry,” protested Sarth.
 * “She will die, along with us, if there’s a booby trap waiting for us,” said Spectre, adding a veiled threat to his next statement. “Wait here, or I will make it so you have no choice but to wait here.”
 * “I’ll wait,” said Sarth, somewhat sullenly.

If he was honest with himself, Spectre was right. Charging in without caution was a good way to get oneself killed, and wouldn’t help Annita any. However, he hadn’t been thinking clearly since the attack on the safe house, and trying to cope with the death of R’hask Sei’lar and Selu’s disappearance had the effect of basically frying any sort of higher order mental faculties that he typically could call upon.

Spectre donned his helmet and slowly, cautiously advanced on the prone Annita, weapon at the ready, ignoring the pain flaring up in his back. Even if he was successful, this was going to hurt a lot. Twice he stopped and bent down, examining something on the ground. Both times it turned out to be a laser trip mine. Spectre defused both of the weapons with calm, practiced efficiency and patience. The old soldier’s saying had on defusing mines had been “Haste makes dead,” so he took his time. He, too, was professionally concerned about Annita’s life, but getting himself blown away wouldn’t help any. After mentally running the numbers on how much time she had compared to how long it was taking him to reach the pool, he frowned, not liking the results. Crouching down to where the detective’s body was, he noticed that her head was held underwater by a slender cord tied to something underwater. Activating his helmet’s sensors, he scanned the pool and quickly determined that the cord was tied to the drain in the bottom of the pool. However, there was one minor catch: It was also looped to the fuzing device of a concussion grenade. Cutting the cord would lead to the grenade arming and blowing away everyone in a six meter radius. Charming.
 * “Everyone back away,” he ordered through his helmet.

Glancing at his chrono, he noted that he was out of time. Now to try something a bit riskier. Deftly, he reached down and clipped the cord with the vibroknuckler while scooping the grenade out and hurling it away from the house into the forest as far as he could. The throwing motion sent a fireball of pain racing along his shoulder and he gasped as his vision blurred and he nearly collapsed. He was vaguely aware of the grenade’s detonation and felt the diminished shockwave roll over him. Despite the tendrils of pain racing up and down his back, he focused on his mission: Save Annita. Pushing through the pain, he checked for other traps and didn’t find any. Carefully, he pulled the detective’s head out of the water, alert for a snare that he had missed.

Rolling her over onto the dry ground, he pulled the rebreather out from her mouth and noted that it was exhausted. Annita was unconscious, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She was not breathing, Spectre noticed. Quickly, he pulled off his helmet and began the artificial respiration procedure drilled into him by the demanding clone masters and Mandalorian sergeants. Back on Kamino, it had been first been taught to him as a song during his abbreviated childhood. Since then, the knowledge of the technique had helped him save several fellow clone troopers during the war. He completed the rhythm one time with no results. Second try, still nothing. Finally, on the third try, Annita revived, gasping for breath and coughing up water.
 * “Easy there,” said Spectre, patting her on the back to help get the water up.

Annita sat there for several minutes until finally all the water was expelled from her system. The wail of Securer klaxons could be heard in the distance. Her lungs and airways burned, but she felt she would live. Wiping the tangled hair out of her airs, she looked up and saw a bronze-skinned man with intense dark eyes staring at her.
 * “Can you breathe?” he asked.
 * “I-I think so,” she said.
 * “Just rest then. Medical help is on the way,” he said, checking her for obvious injuries.

As they sat there and waited, she remembered who he was- one of the Durashield Securities guards. Funny, she hadn’t noticed how rugged and scarred his face was the first time she had encountered him at the Kraen residence. Unlike that first meeting, the rest of his body was concealed underneath a full suit of armor. Glancing down at the helmet that he had set on the ground, she recognized the design and put the face together with the armor.
 * “You’re a clone, aren’t you?” she asked.

Spectre stiffened at her statement.
 * “Yes,” he said simply. “Alpha-88. Formerly of the Grand Army of the Republic.”
 * “It bothers you to hear that, doesn’t it? I’m sorry” she apologized. “You saved my life.”
 * “All in the line of duty,” he said simply. “I was the only one who could do it.”
 * “How close was it?” she asked.
 * “Close. Very close,” he replied. “Don’t talk so much; you should rest.”

So she simply laid back and waited, noting that Sarth and Cassi were also there, standing a few meters away. She looked horrible, she was sure, but she didn’t care at all. Relief at simply being alive swept over her. Those horrible moments of being trapped underwater, unable to take in life-giving oxygen, were over now. She had thrashed about, trying to get free, but quickly realized that the effort was only depleting the rebreather faster. When she had felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, she had expected to never wake up again. Beyond all her hopes, she was still alive and Sarth Kraen was still here also. Ordinarily she would have tried to analyze the situation and determine the chain of events that had led up to her rescue, but that seemed much too exhausting at the moment.

Finally, the medics arrived and loaded her onto a hover stretcher as the Securers began sweeping the grounds. She heard the team report two additional casualties- likely the guards that had been left at the house- as the stretcher was loaded into the vehicle. Then the realization hit her: If Sarth was here, how had they found her if he hadn’t encountered the Mistryl? What was happening with the case? However, then one of the medics administered something to her and she drowsily closed her eyes and went to sleep.
 * “How is she?” asked Sarth after Spectre stepped back to let the medics take over.
 * “She’ll be alright,” said Spectre. “She’s not seriously hurt.”
 * “Good,” said Sarth, relieved. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to Annita.”
 * “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Cassi.
 * “It means that she’s a friend of mine, and if anything were to happen to her because of the Mistryl, that would be partially my fault. I would feel terrible,” answered Sarth.
 * “Is that all?” said Cassi pointedly.
 * “Um, Spectre, could you give us a moment?” asked Sarth.

The ex-ARC nodded curtly and walked several meters away. Sarth couldn’t tell if the trooper was offended or not, but at the moment he figured it was better to deal with the supernova now and the solar flare later.
 * “Cassi, what’s wrong?” he asked.
 * “I’m just concerned, Sarth. About us,” she said. “We’ve been through a lot these past few weeks. I know it’s been hard on you; it’s been hard for all of us. I just wonder if you still care about me as much as you used to.”
 * “Of course I do,” said Sarth.
 * “You haven’t been the same since that detective showed up,” said Cassi.
 * “I haven’t been the same since people keep trying to kill my friends and family and kidnap me,” Sarth retorted irritably. “I don’t have time for this.”
 * “So you don’t have time for me?” Cassi shot back. “I think I see how it is.”
 * “Look, Cassi, I didn’t mean it that way,” said Sarth.
 * “Sure you didn’t. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out that lie.”

Sarth suddenly found himself more than a little perturbed. There were so many things going on that were all so important and personally significant to him, and Cassi chose now to have a jealousy fit. He did not know what was setting her off, but it didn’t matter: He was tired of it. One part of his mind reminded him that she was just as stressed and concerned as he was, but overall, his selfish side won out and he just didn’t care.
 * “What is up with you? Annita is an old friend of mine; that’s all. There’s no way I would leave you for her.”
 * “Really? You’re telling me you haven’t seen the way she looks at you?”
 * “What are you talking about?”
 * “Sarth, you’re blind if you haven’t noticed it, and saving her life at that café in Munto didn’t exactly help things. I want to believe you, but when I see the signs, I have to ask questions.”
 * “I’m glad to see you have so much faith in me. In us.”
 * “How dare you-” she snarled.
 * “I dare, Cassi. Because I’ve seen more people die or nearly get killed because of me, and now you accuse me of leaving you for someone else at a time like this? How petty does that sound?”
 * “Well, if I’m so petty, than you can just talk to someone else,” she shot back, turning and walking off.
 * “Cassi, wait,” said Sarth, suddenly filled with remorse and regret. “I’m sorry. Look, we’re all stressed out and hurting. There’s so much that has been going on, what with the Mistryl attacking and the captain and Selu and all.”

She stopped, struggling to keep her voice under control.
 * “It hurts so much.”
 * “Yes, yes, it does.”
 * “Just hold me.”

Then all of a sudden, she was buried in his arms, sobbing heavily into his shoulder, letting all of the pent-up emotions and grief out at once. As he held her, he didn’t say anything, but just let her vent. Sarth was far too perplexed by this sudden change of the emotional dynamic to respond with anything more. Just a few seconds ago, she had been yelling at him, cutting him with her words, and now he was holding her while she cried. Thoroughly puzzled, he marked the event down as yet another example of the complex and entirely inscrutable infrastructure of the female mind.
 * “I don’t think I can take it anymore, Sarth,” Cassi said, after several minutes.
 * “Take what?”
 * “I want it to end. I want people to stop attacking us, stop killing our friends. Look at what it’s done to your family, to us.”
 * “I know,” said Sarth, wiping the tears from her face with his jacket lapel. “I never wanted this for us- I never imagined anything like this would happen to me.”
 * “Well, it is happening. So now what?”
 * “I don’t know,” he said. “I can only hope that Selu knows what he’s doing.”
 * “Who is Selu?” she asked, frowning. “That’s twice you’ve mentioned that name.”

Sarth paled. In his fit of emotion, he had forgotten to refer to Selu as “Micor,” and usually, he didn’t forget anything at all. Similar events had happened in the past; when his memory was disrupted by some emotional cataclysm, but now was not a convenient time for that, to say the least. Frantically, he tried to come up with a suitable explanation that would satiate her curiosity, but to no avail. Deception had never been a strong suit of his and he figured Cassi would pick up on it immediately. After the emotional outburst he had just experienced, trying to lie to her was far from the most prudent course of action for their relationship. He was certain that she was trustworthy, anyways, or at least he hoped so. Anyway, there was nothing for it but to own up and tell her the truth.
 * “You might as well know, but this goes no farther than these two meters.” he said sternly. “Is that explicitly understood?”
 * “Sure,” she said.
 * “No, not sure,” he said, his tone growing colder. “Because it’s deadly serious, and if I can’t absolutely trust you on this, I can’t tell you.”

She looked into his eyes more seriously this time. Whatever Sarth was about to tell her, it must be important, or dangerous. Or both. Cassi got the feeling that she was about to be let in on some dark secret. That was almost enough to quench her curiosity as she didn’t know if she could handle any more dark secrets, but she sensed that Sarth was burdened by having to keep this from her, so for his sake, she made up her mind to take that weight from him.
 * “All right, Sarth. You have my word. I won’t tell whatever it is that you know.”
 * “Okay,” he said resignedly. “You know him as my cousin Micor, but that’s not his real name.”
 * “What?”
 * “That’s right. He’s actually my brother, Selusda Kraen. And he wasn’t just a Republic fighter pilot during the war. He was a Jedi Knight.”
 * “Are you serious?” she asked incredulously.
 * “Yes,” he said somberly. “He’s been on the run from the Empire for the past few months while he’s worked with us.”
 * “Who else knows that?” she said.
 * “I do, as do my parents. Spectre also knows, and Jorge might. I don’t know about Milya. She’s far too reserved for me to say. Now you know why I needed your absolute silence on this, Cassi. I’ve seen too many people get hurt or killed for me to lose my brother now that I’ve found him.”
 * “He doesn’t seem like what I thought a Jedi would be.”
 * “No, he doesn’t fit the image that was in the holos anymore. He’s in exile now and I don’t think anyone would ever think he was anything more than a spacer from how he looks and acts. I can’t imagine what he’s done over the last twenty or so years, but the past few months have certainly worn on him.”
 * “So is it true what they say on the holofeeds, that the Jedi were trying to overthrow the government?”
 * “Not a word of it,” he said. “That’s a lie. No, it was the other way around. I’ve seen the holos- the unaltered ones- of armored clone troopers marching into the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and killing everyone in their path, even the children. Selu was there, but he escaped. I found him shortly afterward.”
 * “And that’s when he joined the crew of the Hawk-bat.”
 * “Right. He’s been with us ever since, watching my back against the Mistryl.”
 * “So why didn’t he just come back and help guard us instead of surrendering to them? I thought Jedi were almost impossible to kill.”
 * “If that was true, then more of them would still be alive,” said Sarth grimly. “I think Selu gave himself up to them because he knew it was the only way for the rest of us to live in peace. I was going to make that sacrifice, but he took my place.”
 * “So what do we do now?” she asked concernedly. “I’m scared, Sarth.”
 * “I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t know.”

Slowly, carefully, he took her hand and walked her back over to the speeder where Spectre was waiting. It was a very quiet ride back to the government medcenter where Samtel, Lena, Jorge, and Milya were waiting. Each person was busy with thoughts of their own. Doubt and insecurity were in the air, and the tension was almost tangible. No one wanted to voice the one thing that was on all of their hearts and minds, but leaving it unsaid was nearly as bad as saying it: Selu Kraen was almost certainly doomed.