Revenge of the Jedi/Part 28

When Raven saw Renata with Raina, the two women seated on opposite banks of a babbling brook that flowed from a two-meter waterfall deep in the estate's forest, he hesitated between two oaks, not wanting to disturb them. But no sooner had he leaned against one and stilled himself to wait than he felt his sister in the Force, and heard her say, "Renata."

"Mmm…uh. Yes, Master?"

"That's enough for now. Go back to the manor; you're free for the afternoon."

"Yes, Master. Can I practice with the other Jedi?"

"Can you?"

Raven heard Renata's sigh from five meters away. "May I?"

"…you may practice with Sir Amaani or Sir Kobold, if they agree."

Raven assumed she omitted Lords Brascel and Wisté so Renata would not bother them, but he still frowned at his sister's other exclusions. Renata asked, "Not Gaebrean?"

Raina hesitated for a second, then repeated, "Sir Amaani or Sir Kobold, Renata."

"Yes, Master."

Raven listened to the shuffle of fallen leaves and twigs fade as Renata jogged away. As Raven started to lose her footsteps under the trickle of the stream, Raina called, "Yes, brother?"

Stepping into view, Raven skipped over the brook and took a seat on a stone beside his sister. "You've blacklisted our cousin now too? Uncle Vinton would be proud."

Raina glowered at him. "Wherever Gaebrean is, Zaella tends to be also."

"I admit I've had relatively little interaction with her, but I think you'd be safe in trusting her not to murder Renata. Especially right under Gaebrean's nose; he's not that oblivious."

Raina did not even crack a smile, which did not bode well. "I've never thought she would—that isn't the danger she represents."

"Do you really think one seventeen-year-old is going to turn the lot of us to the dark side?" Raven demanded. "Forget the insult you're doing to our allies and your own Padawan, do you think that little of me?"

She sighed. "Of course not, but you're a Jedi Knight! You've overcome basic temptations and made an informed, adult commitment to the light.  Renata's still only a girl, and she's at an impressionable stage in life.  I don't want Zaella's bad influence to mar her training, or plant the seeds of the dark side.  I can't always be with her, and I don't know who might water them when I'm not."

"Did my ears deceive me this morning, or did Zaella offer to help Renata with defenses to Amaani's lunges?"

"After calling Renata 'Jawa', yes," Raina said, rolling her eyes.

"At this point I'm starting to think that's as much affectionate as anything else."

"Renata doesn't share your opinion."

"Sounds like something for her to wor—"

"We are working on it. But until she can control her emotions in Zaella's presence, I want as little interaction between them as possible.  Besides, Renata's too young and still too emotionally volatile for a style like Juyo—Zaella is too volatile for it.  I don't know what Zaella planned to teach her, but she's not a Makashi stylist.  I don't want Renata learning something that could endanger her spirit."

"She's your Padawan, so you get to decide how she trains, and with whom. Nobody's questioning that."

Raina sighed again. "But? I know there's a 'but', Raven."

"I'm just saying," Raven said, raising his hands placatingly, "if she tries to be helpful and you deny her the opportunity, that's your choice to make, but then you can't put all the blame on her."

Raina stared up at the canopy, rubbing the back of her neck; her long hair hung down her back in a single, elegant training plait. "You think Tirien's right? That he and Narasi can redeem Zaella?"

"I think the more of us show a lack of faith in her, the less she'll believe it herself."

Raina narrowed her eyes. "Your voice but Tirien's words, brother."

"He talked to me about it," Raven admitted, avoiding her gaze. "He's frustrated that so few Jedi have faith in the redemptive power of the Force—'particularly given the redemption that attended your forebear's death' were his exact words."

It was Raina's turn for discomfort. "That was a unique situation."

"But a far worse Sith."

"Do you think she even wants to be redeemed, Raven? I'm not convinced.  And one offer of help wrapped in an insult isn't enough to change my mind."

"I think there's something to be said for Tirien's point—the more of us show her compassion, the more compassion might appeal to her. If she's known nothing but Sith brutality her whole life…"

"She's not a child. She's a grown woman, and she can make her own choices.  We were raised here, but we pledged ourselves to the Order anyway."

Hoping to dodge a return to that argument, Raven countered, "If I offered you a choice in Bocce, would you understand it enough to make it?"

They stared each other down for a moment as the wind tickled the leaves above and the streamwater gurgled by. Raven blinked first, but Raina levitated a mossy stone into her upturned palm, studying it for a moment before she said, "I'll meditate on it."

"I'll leave you to it, then."

Most of the forest was quiet as Raven walked back, but he was still some ways out when he heard the distinct, dopplering hum of a lightsaber blade moving at high speed. Instinct made him palm the curved hilt of his own weapon, but as he circled around the sounds, he emerged into a clearing and saw Amaani, Kobold, Narasi, and Zaella watching as Yan's blue blade whirled through the air and struck one of the humanoid utility droids Amaani had picked up during his last visit to the capital. The blow should have struck the droid's head off its thick neck, but the blade merely glanced off and revolved the other way as it spun back to Yan's hand. Raven realized the Arcona Knight was practicing with her blade on low power.

Less time wasted repairing a droid with a scuffed neck than a severed head, he mused. "Saber throw practice?"

"Narasi's idea, but it was a good one," Yan said.

The Zygerrian shrugged. "The first time I saw somebody use it, it…er…didn't cut all the way through. That was kinda…gruesome, so I figured it'd be best to practice beforehand."

The last weeks had definitely seen the Jedi practicing skills few of them had employed before. Raven was not surprised by the audience, either; the two young and promising warriors, the Jedi Guardian, and the two most martial of the Tapani Knights. Raven could only wonder where Gaebrean was.

"Care to try your skills, Raven?" Yan asked.

Amaani nodded in encouragement, so Raven adjusted his lightsaber's shielding, ignited the green blade, cocked his arm, and threw. Controlling the weapon was little challenge, but moving it at the speed needed to kill before an enemy blocked or ducked complicated matters. He struck the droid across the face and winced; with a live blade, it would have cut the thing's head in half.

"Not exactly a model sai cha," he said as his blade hummed through the air and back into his hand.

"Harder than it looks, isn't it?" Kobold observed. "And that's not even addressing the master class."

Raven followed his pointed finger and saw Amaani's other three maintenance droids scattered around the clearing and the near woods. Yan said, "And that's with them all holding still. We can get them moving too, for a real simulation."

"Knighthood before barony, Jedi Razam," Kobold advised.

"Who knows how much time we have?" she retorted. "I'd like you all to be at least hitting all the stationary targets at combat speed by nightfall."

"Will you stay and train with us, Raven?" asked Amaani.

"I would, Sir Amaani, but I'm actually on my way in," Raven said. Tipping his head, he stepped a short distance away, waiting until Amaani and Kobold had closed to earshot before asking, "Have we heard anything about Pelagia contacts at Allanteen?"

"My father's supposed to be back any minute," Amaani said, looking at his chrono. "Lord Brascel hoped there would be news."

Raven had enjoyed few opportunities to meet with the two men privately, even in the evenings, so he seized on the cover of Narasi's lightsaber's hum to ask, "Do you feel well-prepared?"

Amaani looked at Kobold, who rubbed his chin rather than return the look, then said, "It's grueling enough, but necessary; our chances of victory are slim enough without hampering them with fainthearted efforts."

Hoping for a cheerier outlook, Raven turned to Amaani, who frowned. "Your friend Tirien would do well as a High Lord, and I continue to harbor doubts about Zaella. But Kobold's right—about the need for realism in training, not our prospects.  I've not yet grown that fatalistic."

Kobold smiled and shrugged. "The Force will bring us our destinies, whatever they may be. I'd follow your father even to certain doom; I'll certainly go with him to an uncertain one."

Amaani stared straight forward—avoiding the unknightly temptation to roll his eyes, Raven suspected—but Raven asked, "Do you think we're insufficiently prepared?"

Kobold looked over Raven's shoulder, and his languid demeanor faded into grim resignation. "One of them will die—the girls, I mean, not Razam, though she might as well. The little Jedi Nefkin seems like she'd be good against any number of common beings, but against a trained Sith Lord?  If I were a gambling man like your cousin, I'd wager the odds are against her.  If Gasald's as terrible as they say, I think the closest being to 'safe', apart from the Masters, is your friend Tirien."

"It may be impossible to truly prepare for an encounter with someone that powerful," Amaani said with a frown. "We can do only what we can do. But if there's more we could do but aren't, I can't pretend to know what it is.  There are only so many hours in the day, even for Jedi."

"Speaking for those of us with comparatively little exposure to the Sith," Kobold said thoughtfully, "I wouldn't mind a bit more practice against dark side techniques. I'm not saying we should let Zaella use Force lightning on us after all, but we can't fight something entirely alien to us."

Amaani's eyes tightened, but he turned away to answer his comlink, and Raven said, "I'll bring it up to Tirien."

Amaani turned back. "That's my father. He's coming in now."

Narasi, Zaella, and Yan stayed to practice—Raven suspected the persistent disappointment from the Tapani spies had tempered their optimism—but Raven joined the two knights in returning to the manor. By the time they arrived, Lords Brascel and Wisté, Raven's father, Harshee, and Tirien were already gathered in the den. Harshee sat on one arm of Tirien's chair, so Raven took the chair on his other side, trying to ignore the look on his father's face.

Amaani embraced his father briefly, and Kobold bowed to him, but as everyone sat, Tirien asked, "What news, my lord?"

"Nothing you'll relish hearing, I suspect," Lord Wisté said. "Information regarding shipments from Allanteen's surface to the shipyards, a rough estimate on the numbers and composition of Lady Gasald's fleet…the Sith Lord Darth Kra'all recently visited the shipyards, so it's all but certain he's still present…"

Tirien took a moment to reply. "All intelligence is valuable, and I'd like to review the details, but none of this gets us to the Kiss of Death or Gasald."

"Speaking of which, Tirien," Amaani said, "have you considered that eliminating Gasald may not be sufficient to negate this threat?"

"We've discussed this, Sir Amaani—several times, now." Raven heard Tirien's patience wearing thin and gave him a mental nudge of warning. "Sooner or later the Council will appoint a new Overlord. That doesn't change—"

"You misunderstand me," Amaani replied, matching Tirien's tone. "Gasald is a powerful figure, yes, and the architect of a great deal of misfortune, but even an Overlord is but a single being, and a being's power as a symbol is limited."

Tirien rolled his head to look at Raven, who thought they shared an appreciation of the absurdity of that argument in the home of Donarius Kaivalt's descendants. Before either of them could reply, though, Lord Brascel asked, "You have some notion, Sir Amaani?"

"With your permission, my lord," Amaani said. Stepping away from his father to command the floor, he said, "Our strike is predicated on access to the Kiss of Death—Lady Gasald's flagship, and the strongest ship of her fleet."

"That's how we know she'll be there," Harshee said, but Tirien sat forward, and with a glance Raven saw his exasperation replaced by narrow-eyed focus.

"You want to destroy the Kiss of Death?"

A moment of silence followed, in which Amaani frowned—Raven rather thought the older man did not appreciate having his thunder stolen—and everyone else was too stunned to reply. After several tries in which his mouth moved but produced no sound, Lord Wisté managed, "Amaani, you…that's…"

Kobold looked as though someone had sucker punched him. "That's…"

Tirien stared at something only he could see. "That's not an idea to dismiss out of hand."

"We have little in the way of an existing plan other than a frontal assault and hoping for the best," Lord Wisté noted; he seemed unable to decide whether to stare at his son or Tirien. "Now, in addition to defeating a Sith Overlord in direct combat—which no Jedi has ever done—you purpose to destroy the most heavily-armed and probably best-guarded warship this side of the Core."

Tirien glanced at Raven, who read the signal and assembled his thoughts on the fly. "Killing Gasald eliminates her leadership, but destroying the Kiss of Death removes the entire command and control structure."

"And it sends a message." Raven had not noticed Jirdo Yushari come in, but the lanky former Jedi leaned on a wall by the door. "Symbolism is important for rule through fear. Gasald's death might enable some of her Sith if they're bold enough, but destroying the flagship could damage morale in the whole fleet."

Raven wondered if Jirdo had been blessed with that bit of wisdom based on his triumvirate's own rule on Guudria. He suspected one of the other Jedi might be trenchant enough to point that out, but Tirien intervened. "And if the strike team dies in the attempt, destroying the ship will kill Gasald anyway."

No one spoke. Lord Wisté, who had apparently not been prepared for a barrage of logical arguments in such short order, looked around in vain for help. Kobold held his silence, but Raven saw the force of logic working on him and thought only loyalty to his former master kept him from adding additional reasons. Raven looked at his father, who asked, "How?"

"The reactor core," Harshee said. "Trigger it to go critical and it'll wipe out the entire ship. Might even damage some nearby, if they're close enough."

"We'd need to split into two teams," Kobold pointed out. "We'll never reach the reactor after killing Gasald, and vice versa. Unless you mean to kill Gasald by overloading the reactor?"

"No," Tirien said. "We need certainty she's dead. If she learns the reactor's going critical, she might have time to evacuate.  Even if she kills the strike team, we'll hold her long enough for the reactor to overload, and reinforcements will go to protect her instead of looking for trouble elsewhere."

"If the strike team is unable to defeat Gasald quickly," Lord Brascel pointed out, "it may be doomed even if successful, and those who survived Gasald's fury will fall to their comrades' sabotage."

"Every one of us is willing to die if we achieve our ultimate goal," Tirien responded. Raven saw the tense set of his jaw, though he suspected his friend was thinking of Narasi, not himself. "Gasald has to die; every other concern is secondary. And Sir Amaani's right, for all the reasons raised—the Kiss of Death should die with her."

Lord Wisté laid a hand on his pot belly and looked at Lord Brascel, who folded his hands and bowed his head in a moment of silent meditation, then nodded. "I agree. Who shall be on the sabotage team?"

"Your master taught you demolitions, right, Kal-Di?" Kobold asked.

Before Tirien could respond, Harshee said, "Tirien needs to be on the strike team."

"Why?"

"Because," Lord Brascel said, "while raw power alone does not compare with mastery of the Force, neither is it an immaterial consideration, and when backed by the refinement of skill and training it becomes quite relevant indeed. Tirien is the most powerful Jedi we have; not sending him against Gasald would be folly, to say nothing of the risks of his presence drawing the attention of the Sith to the sabotage team."

Amaani cocked his head. "But my lord, surely you…?"

"I have the benefits of a lifetime's study and contemplation," Lord Brascel agreed, "which is why I intend to face Gasald as well. But my point stands.  Furthermore, I should think demolition skills can be taught—enough to sabotage a reactor, at least."

"I'm sure Yan can help me reason out a strategy for the sabotage team," Tirien agreed. Raven noticed the implication that Yan herself would not be on the sabotage team, but that went almost without saying; Yan was champing at the bit for a shot at Gasald. "Harshee, I'd like you on that team."

The diminutive Jedi crossed her muscular arms. "You'd better not be trying to keep me out of danger, Tirien."

"I can only be humbled at your courage, to describe trying to blow up the reactor core of Vedya Gasald's flagship as 'out of danger'." Tirien's wry tone did not last, and he continued in a more businesslike way, "You're a great Jedi and a decent fighter, Harshee, but not the kind of fight Gasald's going to give us. Besides, you probably have more experience slipping around unnoticed than even me."

"Yeah, probably," Harshee conceded, though Raven could tell she did not like him going off to face the true danger without her. "All right, fine. Who else?  And if you say Narasi, so help me—"

"We'll need Narasi's fighting skills in the strike team," Tirien said.

Raven nodded. "Besides, Zygerrians who aren't in slaver uniform stand out, and by now half the Empire's heard of her."

"Sir Kobold. Sir Amaani." Tirien looked at them. "You're both Human; you'll blend more easily than any other species. One of you could go with Harshee."

They glanced at each other, then began speaking in unison. "I don't intend to be left—"

"—trained all this time—"

"—stain on my honor—"

"—can fight just as well as—"

"Gentlemen," Lord Brascel said. Though soft, his voice silenced them both at once. "Surely you agree we can not send Jedi Nefkin alone. That would be neither tactical nor wise."

"But Amaani and Kobold both need to be with us on the strike team," Lord Wisté insisted. "If we're speaking of skillful fighters, they both fit."

"As does Raven. We can spare one."

"Why not spare Raven, then?"

Raven tried not to wince at the possibility of being left out of the fight, but Tirien said, "Because Raven is the next most skillful duelist after Lord Brascel and me."

"What about Gaebrean?" Harshee asked.

"The picture of subtlety and discretion…" Miklato muttered.

"The place of honor—" Kobold started.

"This isn't about pride or self-aggrandizement," Tirien snapped. "The Sith will be where Gasald is, not at the reactor; we need the Jedi most capable of killing Sith on the strike team."

"And if you've a taste for honor, Sir Kobold," Miklato added, "then consider this: if the strike team fails, the sabotage team will be the only chance you have to defeat Gasald. If this mission is necessary to protect the Tapani sector, as you insist it is, then aiding Jedi Nefkin may be the action that decides whether our sector stands or falls."

Raven blanched at the look Lord Wisté gave his father, and Kobold seemed none too thrilled, but he thought for a moment instead of replying, looking at Harshee, Lord Wisté, Amaani, and even Tirien. In the end he sighed, clapped Amaani on the shoulder, and said, "I wouldn't tear you from your father's side, old friend—not in peril like this. You go win the glory; I'll be the Shield this time.  But do try to make my part superfluous, won't you?"

Amaani clasped Kobold by the arm, smiling, but Lord Wisté said, "Kobold, I'd prefer you were with us."

"As would I, Master," Kobold said. "But Lord Brascel and Baron Kaivalt are right—this is too critical to be left to a single Jedi. Never fear, though, Tirien, I think I can set aside my pride long enough to learn how to rig a bomb."

Before Tirien could reply, Bernius walked through the door, glancing sideways at Jirdo before remarking, "Please excuse my interruption, Master."

"What is it, Bernius?" Miklato asked.

"A gentleman is here asking for Jedi Kal-Di."

Miklato narrowed his eyes. "Tirien, much as Jedi Nefkin has been a welcome addition to these counsels and a model guest, I thought we had an understanding about inviting further visitors."

"I understood perfectly," Tirien replied, frowning. "I didn't invite anyone."

He rose, took the lightsaber hilt off his belt, and followed Bernius out, holding it behind his back. Raven tailed him, sensing many of the other Jedi in their wake. In the foyer, only Harshee skipped ahead to take up a position beside the door. Tirien glanced back at the Jedi filling the room behind him, raised an eyebrow, and remarked, "Subtle."

Miklato pushed through and opened the door. On the front step stood a male Human Raven had never seen, and in whom he sensed no touch of the Force. He resembled any Human one might see at a spaceport—clean and serviceable clothing that had seen some wear, hair cut in an unremarkable style, his expression polite without being inquisitive. Raven thought, if the man was not standing at his door, he could see him and never look at him twice.

"Jedi Kal-Di," the man said, nodding to Tirien.

Tirien did not nod back. "You have the advantage on me, I'm afraid."

The man looked at the other Jedi. "May we speak privately, sir?"

"You may not," Miklato said.

"But you may speak freely here," Tirien added.

The man considered for a moment, then nodded. "Yes sir. General Darakhan sent me, sir."

Tirien frowned. "I received a message from him a few days ago…"

"Which you neglected to mention?" Lord Wisté asked.

"It said, Help is on the way; it seemed too cryptic to bother mentioning." Tirien studied the man at the door. "I thought he might have sent Kenza Rowkwani after all."

"I don't know anything about that, sir, but he did send us."

"Us?"

"My team and me, sir."

"And where is your team?" Miklato asked; Raven sensed him stretching out with the Force for what Bernius's biological sensors might have missed.

"Not here, Your Honor, but onworld. May I come in, sir?"

Miklato sighed and stepped out of the way. Replacing the lightsaber on his belt, Tirien took out his comlink instead. "Narasi."

It took a moment, but eventually… "Yes Master?"

"Come back to the manor right away. Bring Zaella and Yan, too."

"On our way."

The man followed the Jedi back to the den, while Miklato called Raina. Tirien waited until Yan, Narasi, Zaella, Raina, and Renata joined them, ignoring their questions with a shake of his head. When they were all assembled, he asked, "Who are you?"

The man came to parade rest, but the subtler changes caught Raven's attention first—cool professionalism came over his face, and he focused on Tirien like an assassin droid. "I'm Captain Cynan Oraska of Republic Intelligence, sir. General Darakhan sent my team here to assist your mission."

"Did he brief you on the mission?"

"No sir, but that's standard procedure for our unit. Our specialty is enemy infiltration and direct intelligence gathering."

"Really?" Narasi asked. "How do you do your mission if you don't know what it is?"

"We're briefed at our launch point, ma'am."

"Why?"

"Because if they're captured en route," Tirien said, "even if they're tortured or mind probed, they can't give up information they don't have."

Narasi made a face and Zaella raised a thin eyebrow, but Captain Oraska nodded. "Just so, sir."

"Do you have some sort of identification, Captain Oraska?" Lord Brascel asked.

"No sir—also standard procedure."

"Republic IDs are a death sentence on Ryloth," Zaella volunteered. "It can't be any better in the Empire."

"That's all well and good," Lord Wisté said, "but it would be a fine thing if we were to divulge details of our mission to Sith spies."

Tirien crossed his arms. "I don't sense any deception in you, Captain, but most Intelligence agents—of every faction—are trained well enough to resist that. Do you have any way of proving who you are?"

"General Darakhan instructed me to tell you that as much as green suits him, the curved hilt was more trouble than it's worth. He said you would understand, sir."

Raven saw a faint smile touch Tirien's lips for the first time in days. "Just so, Captain. They're here from Mali, Lord Wisté."

When no one else objected, Miklato sighed. "I suppose we'd best make introductions…"

"Thank you, Baron Kaivalt, but that's not necessary," Captain Oraska said. "I know who you all are, and none of my men's names would mean anything to you even if I gave them."

"Then we should brief you instead." Tirien sighed. "Would someone else care to do the honors for a change?"

"On it," Yan said, but Raven raised a hand.

"There are a couple details you'll be missing—it turns out this was the wrong meeting to skip." He launched into a summary of their mission, incorporating the destruction of the Kiss of Death and concluding with, "We need a clearance code that will get us aboard the Kiss of Death—and the shipyards, if they require one—and a full schematic of the ship itself."

When he finished, Yan looked thrilled by the change of plans, Narasi looked daunted, and Raina looked as if she was withholding any number of choice comments with difficulty. Captain Oraska, by contrast, showed only a touch of thoughtfulness. "Difficult, sir, even by our standards. But not impossible."

"Assuming it can be done, do you have a rough timetable?" Raven asked.

"Any mission can be accomplished with infinite time, sir. It might be better if you give me a time frame."

"It's already been weeks since Eriadu," Tirien said. "Two weeks?"

Captain Oraska thought it over. "If it can be done at all, it can be done in that time frame, sir, yes."

"What do you need from us, Captain?" Yan asked.

Lord Wisté sighed. "I suppose, if you're the real thing, we'd best put you in touch with our agents…"

"Thank you, Lord Wisté, but that won't be necessary," Captain Oraska answered. "My team has its own methods, and we've all trained together extensively; adding unfamiliar agents to the mix would cause more problems than it solves. We already have a ship, along with an appropriate cover story and supporting documents.  All I need is a go order."

"How will you get us the information?" Lord Brascel asked.

"If we can safely exfiltrate within the time frame you've supplied, sir, in person. If not, I have the means to send one-way transmissions to a Jedi beacon transceiver."

Raven recoiled, and Raina and Tirien's faces showed they shared his apprehension. The Jedi Order guarded its beacon transceivers jealously, lest they be corrupted or cracked. Raven wondered whether the Order issued a select number to units like Captain Oraska's, or if Republic Intelligence had sliced the beacon code and just kept that fact to itself; he was not sure which would be worse.

Narasi, however, went a different way with it. "What if you get in trouble? If we can't talk to you, how are we supposed to help?"

For the first time, Captain Oraska smiled, just a little. "You aren't, ma'am. We're all Republic Intelligence—military spies.  We may not wear uniforms or march in parades on Coruscant, but we know what we signed up for just the same.  If we die, we die.  We won't be taken alive if we can prevent it, so the mission won't be compromised, but if we're eliminated without obtaining the information, we'll try to send a message to that effect before the last of us dies."

Narasi frowned, but did not go on. Raven thought she had seen enough battle, and was Jedi enough herself, to accept and honor that kind of commitment rather than opposing it. But Captain Oraska added, "Thank you for the sentiment, though."

"I'll give you my beacon ID, Captain," Tirien said.

Once Captain Oraska had filed it away, he said, "If we can get this information, sir, we will. I'll contact you with anything else you need to know.  Do I have your order to begin?"

Tirien surveyed the other Jedi scattered around the room. A few looked ambivalent, and one or two taken aback at the rapidity with which the mission had changed in less than an hour, but most nodded or stood unmoving, and when Tirien's eyes fell on him, Raven nodded too.

Turning back, Tirien said, "Go, Captain, and may the Force be with you."