Revenge of the Jedi/Part 10

Every Tapani boy or girl of noble descent was raised from birth with a consciousness of etiquette, decorum, and social protocol—so much that some of the most ancient lineages held it a point of pride not to own a protocol droid, considering such mechanical conveniences the crutch of lesser bloodlines. Raven Kaivalt was no exception, and for all his loyalty to the Republic and the Jedi Order, he prided himself on his ability to move through his home sector without disgracing himself or his family name. All the same, he thought he had seldom tackled a project so prickly as seating the guests at his family's table.

The night Tirien and his party had arrived on Pelagon, the Kaivalts had foregone a formal dinner; most of their guests were dead on their feet and Yan Razam had actually been starved, so Miklato had insisted they rest and sent dinner to their rooms. In the day that followed, the Jedi had dispersed throughout the manor and the nearby woods, each meditating on the Force's will—though, if their looks that so resembled his own were any evidence, none of them had made more progress than Raven had. Even Raina's calm and poised exterior belied the conflict beneath the surface, though Raven thought only he could sense it. They had strayed onto the Second Chance one by one for lunch, but Miklato insisted they host their guests for dinner.

Renata had spread the word, but she had come back discouraged, and after a short conversation Raven realized it was easier said than done.

As head of the household, of course Miklato sat at the end of the table, and the twins on either side of him—Raina, the elder by half an hour and thus the heir to Inimă Eserzennae, at their father's right—but beyond those givens, things got murky. Renata reported the animosity between Zaella and Jirdo, so seating them together became impossible; though Renata did not complain, Raven intuited her own discomfort around the Twi'lek Sith, so they could not be together either. Normally Renata would have sat beside Raina, but Miklato had been of the opinion that the Jedi Knights—Tirien and Yan—were of higher standing; he had conceded to the usual arrangement only when Raven had worn him down. Raven would have been glad of Tirien's conversation through the meal, but even he could tell Tirien was the lynchpin holding the fragile peace among Narasi, Zaella, and Jirdo together.

In the end, Raven, Yan, Tirien, and Jirdo occupied one side of the table, while Raina, Renata, Narasi, and Zaella took the other. Apart from a few snide comments from Zaella, the first portion of the meal passed in relative peace, and Raven hoped they would either keep the arrangement going forward or find alternatives to eating together.

"Are the ammonia supplements adequate to your needs, Jedi Razam?" Miklato asked over the stew. He had had a shipment of the tablets delivered from Pelagar that morning.

"Yeah, they're fine. Thanks again."

"Certainly." It was not the sort of elaborate courtesy a baron of the Tapani sector might have expected, but at least she had thrown in a 'thank you'. And Miklato Kaivalt, baron though he might be, was a Jedi Knight too, and he had settled on allowing their foreign guests some leeway. "It was small trouble for a fellow Jedi. You weren't saved from Eriadu only to perish here."

Yan looked at Tirien instead of Miklato, and Raven could almost hear her thoughts: It wasn't him who saved me in the first place. Mercifully, she said no such thing aloud, and Tirien just met her eyes with a look that said nothing before turning back to his stew.

"We've seldom had the opportunity to host aliens here," Miklato said. "You do us great honor."

Narasi, Zaella, and Yan all exchanged looks; Renata eyed Zaella with sudden tension; and Raven repressed a sigh. But Tirien warned Narasi with a glance, and she took a deep breath before plastering on a smile and asking, "Are there not a lot of non-Humans in the Tapani sector?"

"Fewer than you might encounter on, say, Coruscant," Miklato mused, sipping his wine. "But many Tapani companies employ aliens alongside Humans; I supervise a number of fishing and hydrographic enterprises for House Pelagia, and we take pride in our Mon Calamari and Quarren employees. And of course, the Freeworlds have a sizeable alien population."

"The Freeworlds Territory is a semi-autonomous border region of the Tapani sector," Raina explained, perhaps to ease the topic to something less contentious. "Under our protection, but without noble houses of its own."

"Are there any non-Human nobles?" asked Zaella.

Raven and Raina both turned to their father, who thought for a moment. "There are a handful of Near-Human nobles, or those with some Near-Human ancestry…oh, and Baron Luugbou is a Herglic."

Raven could tell none of their non-Human guests was impressed by a single Herglic, and conversation lagged again. After a moment, Miklato tried, "Jedi Kal-Di, I hope you've found Lord Scossel's Lineages and Ideologies illuminating?"

"Enormously so," Tirien said, half-wistful. "Would that I had the time to read all the volumes with the care they deserve. But I have to ask, Your Honor, should we expect any difficulty from House Mecetti while we're…in residence here?"

"You refer to the Mecrosa and their Mecetti patrons?" When Tirien nodded, Miklato shook his head. "I shouldn't think so. The Tapani Jedi are intimately aware of that history, I assure you.  We've kept a close watch on House Mecetti, but we've seen no taint of the dark side among their members."

"When I was at the praxeum, they told us House Mecetti is the only noble house without any Jedi," Renata said. Before Milagro she would have spoken only if spoken to, but with Miklato's permission and at Raina's insistence, she had gotten more vocal in front of him.

Miklato sat back, frowning, while Bernius cleared away his stew bowl. "That's true so far as it goes, but I'm afraid it only goes so far. It's not as though the Mecetti are keeping their Force-sensitives from us—we know, because we've looked.  Perhaps the strongest Forceful lineages were destroyed in the Cleansing of the Nine Houses, but the Force can always manifest itself in any vessel."

"But perhaps that's telling," Tirien argued. "The Force has a will of its own. It can manifest in any vessel—and it's chosen not to.  There are seven great noble houses left, and the one that has failed to produce any Jedi is the same one that served the Sith.  I don't see coincidence alone there."

"Even if you're right, that would be an impolitic sentiment to express outside these walls. The Mecetti are an influential family, with many friends in the sector—and many eyes and ears."

"I take your point, Your Honor."

As serving droids brought the main course, Renata turned to Narasi. "Have you picked a lightsaber style yet?"

"Well, not officially, but it's probably going to be Form V," Narasi said.

"How come?"

Before Narasi could respond, Raina said, "'Why', Renata."

Renata took it in stride. "Right. 'Why?'"

Narasi looked perplexed by the exchange, but she recovered after a moment. "Um…well, I'm a Zygerrian, so I'm stronger than a Human, and it doesn't matter that I'm not that tall."

"Pretty tall to me," Renata muttered.

Before Raina could correct her for muttering at the table, Zaella called over Narasi's shoulders, "Yeah, but grass is pretty tall to you too."

Renata—a meter and a half tall and barely that—blushed, and Raina's eyes tightened; Raven could not tell whether his sister was annoyed by Zaella's mockery or how easily her apprentice lost composure in the face of it. Narasi elbowed Zaella, who snickered before turning her attention to the entrée. Narasi said, "Well, you know, people think it always has to be big, bulky males using Form V, but I'm as strong as half of them, so why not? And I like it—it gets into the fight to win.  No dancing, no gymnastics, just go for the kill and get it done."

"Good girl," Yan said.

"Not every duel needs to end in death," Raven pointed out, conscious as he did so that he had never yet fought a duel and left his enemy alive.

"Better to have all the Sith dead," Yan growled. She glanced at Zaella and grunted, "Present company excepted."

Zaella rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

Tirien paused with a piece of steak on his fork. "And even if it's not, the Sith seldom give us the choice."

"You're a Makashi stylist," Raven pointed out.

"It suits my personality, but it didn't fit Narasi. She's more…"  Narasi gave him a smirk of anticipation; Raven thought Tirien's lips twitched, but he could not be sure. "…ardent than I am."

"Nice save, Master."

Raven waited for Tirien to chide Narasi for her snark, but he said nothing. Had he allowed himself to grow overly informal with his Padawan? "Overly informal" did not sound like Tirien Kal-Di, but neither did Raven think Raina's formality with Renata an aberration. When he stopped to consider it, though, he was forced to admit to himself he had spent precious little time around other Jedi and their apprentices. Even on Milagro, he had observed Aldayr as one voice among Mali's many advisors rather than seeing them one-on-one.

"We all train for Makashi," Renata said. "Aren't the Sith our greatest threat, Master Kal-Di?"

"'Tirien' is fine," the Pantoran Knight said. "And you were on Milagro with Mali Darakhan, weren't you? Helping him capture Rogeum, with all the blasterfire there?  Did Sith Lords seem the most pressing threat then?"

Renata frowned, thinking on it, and Raina said, "For reference, 'Tirien' is not fine."

Tirien frowned too. "'Master Kal-Di' is hardly accurate; I'm not a Jedi Master. It's an unfortunate linguistic corruption that's spread through the Order—people calling any Jedi Knight who happens to have a Padawan 'Master', no matter how skillful or ineffectual a Knight—or a teacher—he might be.  'Master Jedi' is bad enough from civilians."

Narasi swallowed a lump of steak and said, "For what it's worth, I think you're on the good side there, Master."

"Much as your praise exalts my spirit, my young Padawan, it doesn't make me a Jedi Master."

Narasi laughed, but Raina did not. "Tirien's not wrong, but he's still a Jedi Knight."

"Perhaps 'Jedi Kal-Di' will do, then," Miklato suggested, and Raina nodded. Tirien's eyes tightened, but he let the matter die.

"Will you practice with me?" Renata asked Narasi. "I haven't been able to spar with a lot of people since the Jedi started leaving Milagro."

"Sure! You don't mind, do you, Master?"

Tirien shook his head. "I have no objection, as long as Raina approves."

All eyes turned to Raina. She glanced at Raven, who nodded in encouragement, then she thought a moment before nodding too. "Yes, all right. But make sure you have a Knight to supervise you; it doesn't have to be me, but…"

She trailed off, and Miklato looked down the table. "You've been quiet, Jirdo."

Jirdo opened his mouth, but as he weighed his words, Zaella said, "He's a big believer in not speaking unless you have something intelligent to say…so he's basically taken a vow of silence."

Raven frowned at her, and Miklato said, "I did not ask for your commentary."

Zaella narrowed her eyes, but Tirien raised two fingers off his fork and said quietly, "Enough, Zaella."

She pointed her daggered look across the table at him instead, but after a moment of silence between them, she snorted and lowered her eyes back to her plate. Jirdo cleared his throat and said, "I'm just…thinking about what's next."

"Do you intend to return to the Service Corps?" asked Raina.

Jirdo winced. "I…I don't even know if I could."

"That will be the Reassignment Council's decision, won't it?" Raven asked.

"Ordinarily, yes," Tirien said. "But under the circumstances, I imagine the High Council will have an opinion on the subject too."

Raven doubted Tirien had given the Council an exhaustive report the day before, but even the facts he had included made Raven sure he was right. Beyond oppressing innocent people for nearly a decade under the auspices of the Jedi, Jirdo had become an unwitting pawn of a Sith Lord and nearly unleashed unspeakable evil on the galaxy; somehow Raven suspected that kind of behavior by a Service Corps Jedi might generate strong feelings in one or two of the Council Masters. Tirien had vouched for Jirdo and Zaella to Miklato, and no doubt he would to the Council as well, but Raven did not know—nor, he suspected, did Tirien—how much weight a single Knight's word would carry.

Yan drummed her claws on the table; for a woman recovering from starvation, she had little appetite. Sipping his wine, Raven tried to find the right words to put her at ease as his father raised his own wine glass and took another stab at driving the conversation. "I trust you're all satisfied with the vintage?"

He did not look satisfied with the general mumble of appreciation, so Narasi said, "I like it. It's kind of…spicy, almost."

Miklato smiled. "Yes, I'm told the secret's in—"

Yan slammed her hand on the table; Renata jumped and spilled some of her wine on herself and a few drops on Narasi. As she apologized, Yan barked, "What are we doing here?!"

Miklato set down his glass, no longer smiling. "That's quite enough. I've made allowances for you, since you haven't been raised in our society, but any being of even elementary civilization should—"

"You think I care about etiquette right now?" Yan demanded. "All of my friends are dead! People I knew when I was a kid, people I played with and served with and fought with, people who trusted me!  Gasald is three quadrants away from here with an armada that could set this whole sector on fire!  Is there a proper protocol for that?  And we're sitting here doing nothing, letting her get stronger!"

The dam had ruptured, and Raven sensed in a moment they all felt it; every being at the table wound tighter by the second. As he often did in moments of trial, Raven turned first to his twin sister, and he saw she had grown still in a way he associated with both preparation for action and extreme care not to make the wrong move.

Tirien set his utensils on his plate, wiped his lips with his napkin, threw it atop the silverware, and laid a hand on Yan's shoulder. She whirled to face him and said, "They were your friends too! Slejux, and the others!  You can't tell me—"

Just for a second, something strange passed through Tirien's eyes. Raven could not put a name to it, would not even have lent his honor to an oath that it had been there at all, but he found himself tensing as a shiver passed through his insides; by the time he recognized the flood of adrenaline for what it was, he no longer saw a need for it. But Yan stopped talking at once, as if Tirien had seized her by the throat and strangled away her voice; only his own connection to the Force assured Raven that he had not.

"That was discourteous," Tirien said. "Baron Kaivalt has given us sanctuary in the face of that very enemy, and because we lost many of the same friends, you of all people should understand how valuable that safety is."

Yan said nothing, and Raven took the chance to glance across the table. Zaella leaned forward over her plate, intent, while Narasi quietly set down her utensils too. Renata's eyes were wide and her mouth made a little "o" of shock, but though Raina's face was smooth and composed, Raven felt her disquiet swelling.

Tirien looked past Yan to Miklato, and though that unsettling gleam did not return to his eyes, his face hardened and his voice cooled. "But courteous or otherwise, she's not wrong."

Raven turned to face his father as well, dimly conscious that everyone else had done likewise. Miklato picked up his wine glass again, but he did not drink, and his frustration had smoothed into Jedi calm. "You both have some other notion?"

"We need to hit back!" Yan said. "Gasald's fleet is at Allanteen; we know she won't leave the system exposed again. If we rally enough forces—"

"They don't exist," Tirien said. "The forces just aren't there to spare. Mali Darakhan conjured a fleet into existence for Milagro and even he couldn't see a way clear to put together the kind of armada we'd need."

"So what's your plan, then?"

Tirien took a moment to look around the table, weighing each being in turn. When their eyes met, Raven firmed his mouth and nodded. He did not know quite what would come out of Tirien's mouth, but he knew the words needed to be spoken. Tirien glanced at Yan, then said, "The fleet is a problem, but incidental to the real issue. Even Darshkére is nothing more than a mutated strain of the original virus.  Vedya Gasald is the true disease here.  Milagro, Allanteen, Eriadu…they all flow from her.  She is at the root of all their suffering.  She is the architect of every depravity all these people have suffered, and all our soldiers and our brother and sister Jedi died for her lust for power."

He laid his hands on the table and said, "Gasald has to die."

For a moment no one spoke, and Raven caught himself nodding. He stopped when he realized it, but that took away none of the point's force. Yan nodded too, and Narasi firmed her jaw.

"But…" Renata swallowed. "But Jedi Kal-Di…isn't revenge against the Jedi Code?"

"This isn't revenge," Tirien said, and though Renata recoiled a bit under his gaze, he showed her none of Yan's temper; his voice was cool but entirely in control. "This is justice. Every second Gasald lives is a second the Jedi say that her crimes can go unanswered in a civilized galaxy, and if that is what the Jedi stand for, we've lost this war already.  The light side rejects hate, but it isn't pacifism and surrender; that's nothing more than Sith propaganda.  The Sith are the enemies of all life, and of the light; they're a disease infecting the spirit of the galaxy, and the light side is the laser scalpel that can burn them away."

Narasi's face was very serious, while Zaella seemed unsure whether to be offended or not. Raina said, "The Council told us to stay here."

"The Council's wrong," Yan said.

"We don't get to decide that!"

"Or perhaps we're obliged to decide it," Tirien countered, but his eyes had grown distant. Staring at the table, he mused, as if to himself, "We're supposed to serve the Force through the Council, but in the end, we owe our allegiance to the Force. Every Jedi ultimately answers to the Force that animates us; when we die, we don't become one with the Jedi Council."

"But you said it yourself: the Force through the Council," Raina argued. "They're the greatest Jedi Masters in the Order; how can you say you know the Force's will better than they do?"

"I spoke to Master Cazars," Tirien said; Raven wondered at the non sequitur. "Not that she cared to discuss the matter for long. Neither did Master Narfulk, but Master Bnodd was…more expressive.  Perhaps because he's fighting another front against Gasald…?  In the end I suppose it's irrelevant.  He wouldn't go so far as revealing the Council's deliberations, but I pressed him on the split, and he admitted the division was close."

"We already suspected it was," Raina hedged.

"Suspicion isn't confirmation, but that's not the point. Will you say that seven of them know the Force's will better than the other five?  Or a certain six better than the other six?  Is the will of the Force a matter for democracy?"

"This is all academic," Yan complained. "I get that this is the crowd that'd go for that sort of thing, but we can all agree Gasald needs to die, can't we?"

"It matters," Raven spoke up. "We don't need the Force to tell us Gasald needs to die, but we do need it to tell us whether we should kill her."

Raven saw Tirien nod from the corner of his eye, but his sister's agitation drew his attention. She looked at the ceiling, shaking her head as she drew a breath, then said, "You're talking about an assassination mission. Jedi don't do that."

Tirien and Narasi exchanged a look Raven did not understand as Zaella took a sip of wine, swished the remainder in her glass, and mused, "Speaking as someone without a dinko in the fight…why not? She's obviously a threat to all of you, and she sounds like she's kind of a bitch, too.  So kill her.  Maybe you'll get some shipyards out of it."

Miklato rubbed his eyelids with his thumb and middle finger while Raven rolled his eyes and Raina scowled. "Cold-blooded murder is beneath Jedi."

"And is targeted killing of an enemy of life—targeted, restrained, proportional, and eminently necessary to protect innocent lives—is that what you'd call the dark side?" He folded one hand over the other fist. "Perhaps we'd do better to ask your ancestor. Didn't Donarius Kaivalt set out to kill Lothario Gaazad?"

"My grandfather slew the Madman of Mandalore," Miklato said. "But I've consulted his holocron many times; he left no record of his thoughts on doing so."

"Did he not?" Tirien asked, and he looked past Miklato's shoulder.

Raven followed his gaze and saw Bernius at the door to the kitchen, observing the entire conversation in silence. Tirien called, "You said Donarius Kaivalt was your original master, droid. Were you in his service at the time he went after Gaazad?"

Bernius turned his photoreceptors to Miklato and asked, "Master?"

Raven could only see the back of his father's head, but he felt the frown. "Tell us, Bernius."

"I accompanied my master to Mandalore," Bernius said at once. "It was one of our greatest battles together, a day and night of fighting the Sith Knights and the Mandalorian legion under the Mythosaur banner."

"You were there?" Raven asked, and he sensed Raina shared his surprise; Bernius had never told them this tale.

"I was."

"And when Master Kaivalt went to Mandalore?" Yan pressed. "Was he going to 'stop the threat' and just see how it all played out?"

Raven bristled at her snide tone, but Bernius merely shook his metal head. "He informed the High Council that Gaazad would never be taken alive or consent to surrender, and en route to Mandalore he told me the same thing. Moreover, he and Gaazad attacked each other at once upon their meeting.  If he had any intention other than killing Gaazad, he neither told me nor demonstrated it to me."

Miklato turned around and sat back in his chair, a rare show of conflict on his face, and Raven thought they were wrestling with the same challenge. He had never thought his great-grandfather anything but a hero; even Bernius, who had known him in life, had never challenged that perception. Was his ancestor no better than a common assassin? Or did Tirien have the right of it—did Raina's sense of honor constrain action beyond justification, or even reason?

Raina recovered first. "Our ancestor may have accepted that Gaazad needed to be destroyed because there was no other choice—"

"—and that's what we're doing," Narasi said suddenly. She glanced at Tirien, then past Renata to Raina. "Gasald's a Sith Overlord; does anybody here think she'll actually surrender? The only way she'll stop is if she dies.  And the Council of Five won't let them kill each other, so…"

"So the only way she dies is if we do it," Yan finished.

"We can kill her at Allanteen, or we can wait and let her kill us at Denon," Tirien said.

Raven started. "Have you seen this?"

"Not in a vision, if that's what you meant."

"It was…" Raven was not sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

"But I can read a tacmap," Tirien continued. "She'll find a way around a blockade at Chardaan, assuming she doesn't just kill them all. She'll grow her fleet at Allanteen until it can't be stopped, crush Denon and isolate Chardaan, slaughter whoever's still alive at Milagro, then press into the Core.  And if we don't have the forces to confront her now, in the face of that kind of threat, we'll never have them to stop her when she really gets going."

"Killing Gasald alone may not prevent that," Miklato pointed out.

"She's more exposed than just this brief need to consolidate her forces," said Tirien. "She's lost Halicon Karzded; he was her right hand and natural heir."

"Darth Vaszas too, right?" Yan asked. "Didn't Master Kadych kill him?"

"The first time we were on Milagro, yes."

The Arcona Knight nodded. "So she's down her best administrator and her best tactician. I've read the Intelligence reports on Darth Kra'all; he's decent, but he's not Vaszas.  He's definitely nothing close to Darth Saleej or Darth Nicodeme."

"Still…" Raina shook her head. "Usurping for ourselves the power to choose where and how we serve? Saying every Jedi can decide her own truth and the hierarchy is obstructing the Force's flow?  I'm sorry, Tirien, but that sounds dangerously close to heresy."

Tirien narrowed his eyes. "Are your lord and your cousins heretics? Is your father?"

It had been a long time since Raven had seen someone really rattle his sister, but Tirien managed the feat. While Renata gasped audibly, Raina paled and turned to Miklato. "I didn't mean it that way."

Raven watched his father's eyes narrow, but they darted around the table, and Raven knew Miklato would never critique his daughter in front of outsiders. He held Raina's gaze for a moment—In what way did you mean it? Raven imagined—then turned back to Tirien. "What do you propose to do?"

Tirien thought for a moment. "Yan and I won't—"

Narasi coughed pointedly.

"Yan, Narasi, and I won't be enough alone," Tirien corrected without a change of tone or expression; neither Jirdo nor Zaella coughed. "One of my best friends in the Order has his own fight against Aresh, and the other died at Eriadu."

"What about Kenza?" Narasi asked.

"Other than Master Cazars, she's the most powerful Jedi on the north front; she's the one who killed Seldec, remember? Mali can't spare her."

Miklato steepled his fingers. "And therefore…?"

"The Tapani Jedi aren't bound to the Council's orders," Tirien pointed out. "What will you do?"

Miklato shook his head. "That isn't for me to decide. Even if I agreed with your undertaking—and while I sympathize in principle and I think you make solid arguments, the logistical difficulties alone would be extraordinary—I don't have the authority to dispatch Tapani Jedi outside the sector, or even go myself, without Lord Brascel's consent."

"Can you get me an audience with Lord Brascel?"

"I might be able to, but I have already used some clout to secure your sanctuary here. Tell me why I should do more."

Tirien did not so much as blink. "Do you concur with the High Council's strategy? Do you trust Denon and Chardaan to shield the Tapani sector?"

Miklato tapped his index fingers together for a few seconds. He looked at Raina; when she hesitated, he turned to Raven instead, and Raven nodded. Raven sensed the surprise dotting the table as Miklato glanced at Bernius too, though Raven just waited for the old droid's verdict. Bernius's metal head dipped in a nod, and Miklato turned back.

"I'll reach out to Lord Brascel to discuss your views," he said to Tirien and Yan. "Please leave me now.  If you're still hungry, I'll have the droids bring the rest of your meals to your rooms."

Tirien stood, bowed, and led the exodus, though he patted Raven's shoulder on his way out. Miklato gestured downward with his hands, and Raven and Raina took the hint, but he said to Renata, "Leave us, please."

"Yes sir." Though she had become part of Raina and even Raven's lives on Milagro, she had spent only a few weeks in total at Inimă Eserzennae, and Raven knew she did not consider herself part of their family.

Raina waited for the door to click closed, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean…"

"That I am a heretic, defying the Force-ordained authority of the Jedi High Council?" He raised an eyebrow. "I thank you for saying so. I hope someday you cease to believe it as well."

Alone with her family and Bernius, Raina let herself look stung. Raven winced in sympathy, but Miklato said no more on the subject. "I would know your honest thoughts on this."

"It's worthy of meditation at the very least, Father," Raven said. "I don't think it should be dismissed out of hand."

"They're angry," Raina countered. "Yan especially, but Tirien is too; he's just better at controlling it. It's affecting their judgment."

"I'm angry," Raven said. "Aren't you?"

"Well, of course—"

"Being angry doesn't make them wrong."

"But it bears great weight in our contemplation of the Force's will," Miklato noted. "The concerns here go beyond mere strategy and tactics, or even the authority of the Jedi Order or the Jedi Lords of the Tapani sector. This is a contest of light and dark, and the darkness is growing as the light fades.  We must direct what light we have left carefully, to illuminate the galaxy as best we can."

"Pointing the light into the heart of the darkness spreads it farthest," Raven suggested.

"But if it fails there, the darkness that returns in its wake is blinding," Miklato replied.

"Bernius?" Raven asked.

"Your great-grandfather confronted many powerful Sith Lords." Bernius did not wait for Miklato's leave now. "Many just as dreadful as Lady Gasald or Darth Saleej, if they merit their reputations. But he did so in accordance with the will of the High Council; his association with the Tapani Lords of the time was not unlike your own, though of course he was a knight."

Four years shy of thirty, the Tapani noble age of majority, Raven and Raina had not yet been accorded the noble title of "knight" to accompany their Jedi Knighthoods. To the Forceless lords, they were untitled nobility, but children—and petulant children at that, as more than one lord had been quite willing to share. Lord Brascel and the other Jedi Lords had a somewhat more nuanced view, though with no intimation that they were equals.

"What would he have done?" Raina asked.

Bernius shook his head. "That I can not say."

"What is your tactical assessment of the situation?" Miklato asked.

"I do not have the full data to render an accurate projection, Your Honor."

"An approximation will do, from what you do know."

In addition to the powerful information processor that served as his mind, Bernius had more direct experience with combat, large-scale and small, than all three Kaivalts together. Father and children sat in silence, allowing their heirloom droid a moment to run the computations. Bernius straightened and said, "The Republic lacks sufficient forces to challenge Gasald directly; therefore, it stands to reason that the forces assigned to defend Denon and Chardaan will together, at best, equal Lady Gasald's battle fleet. Jedi Kal-Di's implication that one or both systems will fall is supported by those data.  Allowing for intervention by other fleets, such as the Corellian Sector Fleet, the Milagro fleet, or Master Kussam Bnodd's command, but also factoring in the threat posed by Darshkére and whatever forces he commands, I calculate no less than three-to-one odds that Gasald will amass sufficient forces to safely take or sack Milagro, Denon, and Chardaan in no more than eighteen standard months."

They had all consulted enough tactical charts themselves to know the likely course of events that would follow Denon's fall; the only real question was whether Gasald would drive hard for Corellia and force the decisive clash at once, or detour to exterminate the Tapani sector first.

After a moment, Raven said, "Getting Tirien a hearing with Lord Brascel isn't taking a stand or committing to go; it's just a conversation. None of us need to decide now."

"No favor from the High Lord of House Pelagia comes free, son, even for a fellow Jedi."

"Three quadrants isn't far."

Miklato sat back in his chair, rubbing his bearded chin. "No. No, it isn't."

Sighing as he got to his feet, he said, "I need to think on this. Bernius, bring a decanter of the 1207 Eisticco's brandy up to my study, won't you?"

"Of course, Master."

No one spoke as the twins followed their father out to the main foyer. Miklato Kaivalt was not a man given to drink, but when he did, he tended to stay up for hours; Raven frowned as he pictured his father wrestling with the conundrum through the night, but he saw no way to help. They all stopped before the wooden statute of Donarius Kaivalt, and Raven wondered what his father and sister saw now in their ancestor's carved face.

"Good evening to you both," Miklato said without moving, and they took the hint. Raven squeezed one of his father's hands, Raina kissed his cheek, and they returned to the dining room. The serving droids had already cleared away the dishes, but left a bottle of wine. Raven poured himself another glass and raised an eyebrow; Raina hesitated, but then sighed, nodded, and held out her glass.

"If no one stops Gasald, she may become unstoppable," Raven said as he filled the glass. "We've already lost the Seventy-Second because the Republic took a defensive posture and let her choose the site of battle—apart from Milagro, I suppose, but even that was Mali."

"I'm not saying Tirien and Yan's concerns are baseless," she said, staring at her wine instead of him. "But the dark side can cloud judgments all the more easily in war."

"Including the Council's judgment?"

"Not you, too."

Raven took a moment to drink, weighing his answer. He did not like opposing his sister, and he understood the depths of her concerns—not least because their minds were bound together enough for him to feel her sincerity. "I don't think we erred at Milagro, and that wasn't the Council's will—they may not have stopped Mali, but he drove that mission from start to finish."

"Him and Senator Rose."

"Still…Tirien's just as great a Jedi as Mali, and what he lacks in strategic and tactical skill, he more than makes up for in depth of the Force. Who's to say Mali was right but Tirien's wrong?"

"The High Council," Raina insisted. "Tirien's thinking of Gasald, but the Council can afford the see the entire war. What if they foresee a need for him, or you, or me at Denon?"

"If we can kill Gasald at Allanteen, the war may never reach Denon."

"Can we? Don't shrug at me, Raven," she snapped. "Do you think we can assassinate her in the heart of her own fleet?"

Raven made a face; that dilemma had occurred to him too. "We haven't reached the point of finding a way yet, Ray; we're still talking about whether we should look for one."

Raina took a sip of her wine, then sighed and drained half the glass in one swallow. Waiting until he met her eyes, she said, "Raven, it's…we could've stayed here—been just like Kae and Cesy and Gaeb. And Dad!  Lord Brascel would've loved us for it.  We chose to be Knights of the Republic, and take everything that comes with that, good and bad.  If we only hold true to that oath when we think it's appropriate, does it have any meaning?"

Raven set down his glass, pierced by that. A Tapani noble's word was his bond—"dishonesty" is "dishonor" misspelled went the adage they had been taught from youth. Recovering from that kind of dishonor was nearly impossible; a dishonored noble became a social pariah. Would that fate await him if he committed to Tirien and Yan's cause?

Though, if he didn't… "I think Tirien and Yan will go even if we don't."

Raina dropped her eyes and reached for the wine bottle. "I do too."