SECOND HOME: TO CORUSCANT
"What a fine couple you make!" Supreme Chancellor Palpatine complimented, beaming at the two bright young people who stood before him. "I couldn't have chosen better for either of you myself!" He readily sensed the uncommon nature of the bond between them, confirmation of his purpose. It would prove most useful to him in the future, he knew. He smiled inwardly, cunningly to himself, congratulating himself on his find.
Wilhuff Tarkin and Typhani Octovano left Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's chambers and proceeded to the bank of elevators that would take them up to the residential level of the Prime Senate Spire, and to the small apartment that would now be a second home to each of them. The two were most passionately in love, perhaps too much so for their own good, he from Eriadu and she from Phelarion, neighboring worlds in the Outer Rim; he a commander in the Outland Regions Security Force and covert assistant to Palpatine, and she the sole heiress to a large and prosperous megonite moss mining operation.
"You didn't tell me you actually knew him!" Typhani admonished her significant other as the elevator door closed. "Why, I looked terrible right off the shuttle!"
"You never look terrible," he told her lovingly, smiling at her. "Besides, I had to leave some surprises for you." He reached up to trace her cheekbone and brush her long, ebony hair back over her shoulder. "I had told him about you, and he wanted to meet you. We are going to be very powerful, Typhani." For a long moment, she just stared at him, the realization of whom she had just been introduced to finally sinking in.
"I really can't believe your audacity, Adrian," she continued teasingly. "You have just introduced me to the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, he's thrilled, and I haven't even met your parents yet! Now what if they don't like me?"
"Their opinions don't count. As I've told you, my father is never home, and my mother and your father have far too much in common when it comes to the liquor cellar. Ingratiating ourselves with them is not worth the effort," he reminded her dismissively.
To Typhani, it seemed to take the elevator an awfully long time to reach their destination, even though few others got on and off on their way up. "Finally!" she commented when they at last stepped into the corridor.
"We're on 518," he told her as they proceeded down the narrow hallway. "Space is a delicacy of sorts here on Coruscant, and so all of the units are small. I don't like small spaces, so they at least got me up as high as they could," he explained.
"But you seemed to like the cabins at our camp," she reminded him.
"You never left me alone in one of them," he clarified, glancing over at her. "Here we are," he continued as they stopped before the narrow door leading to unit 518S, and then he taught her the code to the keypad.
"This apartment isn't small, it's cozy," she commented as she looked around. It reminded her of her private retreat, a tiny converted garden shed at her family's camp on Lake Phelarion. Unlike her companion, she liked small spaces, and found them to be comforting, like a cocoon. She noticed, though, that although Adrian, as he was known among family and close friends to distinguish him from his father, had been on Coruscant for several weeks, he had hardly settled in; there were still boxes everywhere, many of them yet unopened with their Eriaduan shipping labels still intact. She had the task of making a nest for them ahead of her--quickly--she thought, as her own things would be arriving from Phelarion shortly.
"Come have a look," Adrian said as he made his way over to the living room window. Typhani followed him, but let out a tight scream and reeled back from the window as if she were about to fall.
"I've never been up this high before!" she gasped, catching her breath. "There's hardly anything taller than eight stories on Phelarion!"
"Another new experience for you, then. It'll be quite spectacular with all the lights aglow when it gets dark," he said as she tentatively joined him again, and he began to point out to her various landmarks within the view. "And that monstrosity over there," he said condescendingly, indicating the designated building, "is the Jedi Temple. I shall have to keep a watchful eye on that place."
She realized then. "The undesirables."
"What?" he asked, not quite catching what she said.
"You said back at the camp that there were undesirables that you would have to keep track of in your new position here. I can't think of anything more undesirable than Jedi. I wish there was a way to eliminate them all," she said acidly, folding her arms across her chest.
"I didn't know you had that sentiment," he said, both relieved and intrigued that she did. "What do you know of them?"
"It was a filthy Jedi vermin that my mother ran off with when I was a baby. They were always trying to undermine our business dealings with their idealistic, goody-goody, hocus-pocus mumbo-jumbo. Papa says there's actually nothing to it--the powers they claim to have--and that they're basically all a bunch of sex-crazed womanizers, the men that is, and the women merely their concubines," Typhani revealed.
"Your father is absolutely right, though they are an interesting if not amusing lot," Adrian confirmed. But then he took on a more serious demeanor, and he took her chin in his hand to ensure the she looked directly at him. "There's something very important that you must realize," he continued. "Absolutely no one can know that I'm tracking them, at least not yet, and I still cant tell you why I'm doing it or for whom. As I told you on the way up, we stand to gain immense power and else from circumstances that will soon come to fruition, but with that power comes the responsibility of discretion. We're operating on a much grander scale here. You can't help others in the way that you helped me with inside information back on Phelarion, no matter how much of a difference you think it might make, or you just might get us both killed. Do you understand?"
She nodded slowly, and swallowed hard. The stakes were indeed much higher now. But so too were the potential rewards.
* * *
The lights of Coruscant were indeed quite spectacular at night, and Adrian and Typhani sat arm in arm staring at them for a long time. "We will definitely have to put something up at these windows," Typhani commented as they entered their bedroom to retire for the night "I dont know how youve been sleeping in here." The lights glared brightly through the bedroom window and the lommite paneled doors leading to the balcony. Typhani then realized there were no sheets on the bed, only the pillows and a couple of wadded blankets. "Let me guess," she said with a teasing smile, "You stay busy until you finally just drop, and so nothing really bothers you, no?"
"That's pretty much it," he said as he dug through a half-unpacked box for some pajamas.
"Aren't there droids that come in?'
"Yes, of course, but I haven't had time to get on the support services network yet," he explained. "It seems I've been spending a bit too much time off planet on Phelarion."
"I can't imagine why you would do such a thing!" she teased back.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Come here," he said, reaching for her.
But she was already there.
* * *
Adrian left the apartment mid-morning the following day. He had a meeting; with whom or about what he would not say. Typhani would get used to that.
She surveyed the myriad of boxes and bags and tried to decide where to begin. Kitchen first. After making short order of the mess on the counters, in the sink, and in the dishwasher, she began to organize the drawers, putting away what she found in some of the boxes, noting that someone had obviously selected and packed quite a bit of the contents for Adrian. She was just about to move on to the upper cabinets when she thought she heard a persistent beeping.
"Where's the comm!" she said aloud as she scrambled through the mess in the living room, then finally ran down the hall to get the one in the floor by the bed. Typhani was most taken aback by the bubbly young female voice on the other end.
"Uh--hi--uh--is Adrian around?'
"No. He had a meeting. Who is this?"
The caller was equally surprised at the female voice that had answered the comm. Then she realized. "Oh! You must by Typhani! Gosh--my brain isn't turned on right now! It's Morgana! Ive heard a lot about you!"
"And I you," Typhani answered congenially. "I can't wait to meet you!" Adrian had told her much about his sister, of whom he was quite fond.
"Good," Morgana said firmly, "because I'm leaving Eriadu right now and I'll be there in a few hours. I gotta get outta here for a couple of days else my cranium is gonna go supernova!"
"Oh, well, okay, but does Adrian know you're coming?"
"No, but we sort of have this understanding that we come and go when we want. See you in a bit!"
"Well, you and I don't have that understanding," Typhani fumed aloud after she had deactivated the comm and surveyed the mess again.
* * *
"There she is," Adrian noted as he went to let his younger sister in.
A striking young woman in a sleek gray flight suit entered the apartment and greeted her brother warmly. Morgana Arabella Tarkin was a tall, shapely, very self-assured military woman with long, reddish-blonde hair, though not nearly as long as Typhani's ebony tresses, and the same intense, piercing blue eyes as her brother. He then introduced Morgana and Typhani to each other.
"At last!" Morgana exclaimed. "Someplace to go on leave other than home!" She sneered the last word through her slender nose. Then she got straight to the point.
"I am going to kill Gideon!" she declared precisely of their younger brother, with her palms out as she pushed each word forward. Then she flopped down on the futon.
"Can I help? Please!" Adrian asked in a teasing, mock-childlike manner.
"No!" Morgana insisted. "I want to do it all by myself!"
"Now what's he done?" Adrian asked as he resumed his seat.
Morgana sat up straighter, and pointed her index finger in the air as she spoke. "He actually told Aunt Zakria that Mother chose the theme for the Seswenna Ball all on her own and went ahead and ordered all of the invitations and decorations and such while she was on vacation. I knew this was going to happen! I told Mom to wait until Aunt Zaki and Uncle Weldan got back, but oh, no-oo-o! You know what she thinks of Aunt Zaki's taste. So now Mom and Aunt Zaki aren't speaking--again! And thats only half of it!"
"He just does that to get attention," Adrian observed of Gideon.
"No, he does it to start trouble!" Morgana insisted. "And do you know why?" She paused as if at add suspense to her comments. "Because his grades sucked space dust this term! Hes trying to divert attention from himself!"
"How bad?"
"A B, a C, and two D's!"
"That's uncalled for!"
"Oh, it gets better!"
"It does?"
"Yeah. Get this! Nolan flunked out this term!"
"No!"
"Yes! And it's all your fault!"
"My fault?!"
"That's what Aunt Zaki says." Morgana made a face and continued in an elevated, whiny voice. "If only Adrian hadn't been such a show-off and raised the bar for everyone else! He's made it so difficult for all the others! Really, Maggie, you should have reined him in and taught him some common courtesy!'"
Adrian just stared at his sister as his face grew an angry shade of red.
"So, naturally, when I got home yesterday, Mom was having a total tizz, and stressing out because she couldn't get hold of you last week, so here I am!"
"We got caught in some ice out of town," he explained, glancing over at Typhani.
She had been taking all of this in with amusement. If things ultimately worked out between her and Adrian, she thought, she would be part of another very large extended family. She had been looking forward to that, having only recently become involved with the Motti branch of her own, but now the galactically infamous familial dysfunction of the Eriaduan House Tarkin began to show itself. More would show before the night was over.
Morgana reached into her flight bag. "Wullf told me to give you this datacard," she said as she tossed the small, black plastic square to her brother, then withdrew a bag of Eriaduan crème wafers from another compartment. Adrian promptly and playfully seized upon the bag to subjugate some of the booty for him and Typhani.
"You mean you already ate the entire case of these that Mom sent out here with you?" Morgana asked defensively, drawing her cookies away.
"What case?"
Morgana's sharp eyes scanned the living room, and she quickly found the unopened parcel. "You know, it would help if you would unpack this stuff. Where's the observation deck? I need a cigarette!"
Adrian put his hands on his hips and cocked his head at his sister.
"I don't want to hear it, Adrian! Frankly, I don't see what the difference is between smoking and living on Eriadu."
"Off the bedroom," he told her with a disgusted sigh. "You better not smoke in here!" Morgana disappeared down the hall.
"By the stars, Adrian! How did you get a unit up this high?!" Morgana shouted as she stepped out onto the balcony.
"Connections!"
"Yeah, uh-huh," Morgana commented as she closed the balcony door behind her.
Adrian turned to Typhani. "Well, that's Morgana," he said with nonchalance.
"She's . . . intense," Typhani observed.
* * *
"Call Raith," Morgana demanded. "I need to go out, and I don't particularly feel like being a third repulsorlift."
Adrian looked over at Typhani.
"Sounds good to me," she said, palms up. She had heard more about this Raith Sienar than she had heard about Morgana, and so she was very much looking forward to meeting him as well.
Adrian said only three words to his best friend when he got him on the comm. "Morgana's in town!"
* * *
"One bathroom, Adrian! Not good!" Morgana complained sourly as she went about getting ready.
"These units are not designed to be a primary residence, Morgana," he reminded her.
Typhani got the door when Raith arrived. "My goodness!" she exclaimed, putting a hand to her chest. "Adrian told me the two of you look alike, but this is uncanny!"
"The standard explanation is that no, we're not related, and neither of us is adopted! And you must be the magnificent Typhani, around whom the entire universe revolves," Raith greeted with a sweeping gesture.
"Well, I don't know about that," she said with a blush as she depressed the button to close the apartment door.
Morgana emerged from the bathroom clad in a skin-tight, elastifabric, silver and gray, glitter-and-stone-encrusted one-piece outfit with stirrup pants and chrome-colored high-heeled dance shoes. As she walked down the hall, she finished tucking her hair up into a matching turban, and her long, bejeweled silver shell earrings dangled nearly to her shoulders. Of course, she looked great, an obviously well-seasoned veteran of the Eriadu City club scene.
Typhani had fortunately packed a little black dress, flattering, yet understated, and Adrian unpacked a similarly trim and equally understated outfit. The foursome then departed for the undercity of Coruscant.
* * *
Coruscant night life was second-to-none anywhere in the galaxy, and Morgana Tarkin had her favorite haunt, a jumping loud dance club called The Extreme Edge. Typhani noticed that Morgana was quite a dancer as she and Raith ran immediately for the middle of the underlit dance floor and quickly took center stage. Morgana motioned for their companions to follow.
"Don't worry, we'll teach you," Adrian reassured her as he took her hand. Typhani had noticed, though, that although they were in a popular dance club, there was a certain finesse to Morgana's moves. She and Raith came over to join them, and to catch their breath.
"Our parents were the champion ballroom dancers in the Seswenna Sector for over a decade while we were growing up," Morgana explained. "Adrian and I were the junior champions well into our teens. Of course, we had our sports and ball games and such, but Mother and Father insisted that we have a more civilized and cultivated extracurricular activity--until we got to be better than them, that is! Then they pulled us out of competition and just let us play ball and ride our triths and do our archery and swim and whatever else we could come up with to get out of the house and away from them--and Gideon!"
"Those were the days . . . " Adrian mused, days of innocence, before college, before duty, before the present danger undermining the Republic.
* * *
Adrian and Typhani had retreated into a quiet corner of the club's outdoor courtyard. She had noticed some of the market booths and such on their way to the night spot. She liked to make her own jewelry and beadwork, and had been looking forward to raiding the undercity markets. "I'll have to come down and check those out while you're off doing who-knows-what," she said.
Adrian seemed to tense up. He reached over and grasped her wrist, tightly. "Look at me," he demanded. Startled, she abruptly complied. "Don't ever come down here by yourself."
"I'm not an infant, Adrian," she retorted tensely, annoyed. She was not used to being told what she could and could not do, and she wouldn't tolerate it.
"I mean it, Typhani," he insisted. "It's dangerous down here, even in the daytime."
She started to say something else in retaliation, but looked up then and waved someone over to them. Adrian looked around to see Raith walking toward them. He looked at Adrian. "Help!"
"Already? What did she drink this time?"
"I'm not sure, but she's looped!"
"Unbelievable!" Adrian declared as he rose to go find his drunken sister. Typhani followed, uncertain of what was about to happen, but certain that Adrian and Raith had handled this sort of thing before.
"Come along, Morgana, you've had quite enough," Adrian admonished his sister as he got on one side of her and Raith on the other for the support she badly needed to retain her balance. "It's time to go." Morgana was indeed severely inebriated--and enjoying it thoroughly. She babbled and laughed incoherently, mostly to Raith, as they made their way back to the apartment.
* * *
"I take it you've indulged yourself sufficiently," Adrian said smugly to his sister on his way out the door the next morning.
Morgana moaned, and pulled her pillow over her face. It wasn't long before Typhani heard her start the shower.
"Where did Adrian go? He slipped out on me this morning," Typhani asked Morgana when she emerged from the bathroom. She couldn't believe that Morgana didn't have a massive hangover after the evening she'd had.
"Not a clue!" she quipped. "I don't ask him anymore. You never get a straight answer--not about work, that is."
"I meant to ask you," Typhani continued, "your mother sent you out here, no?"
"Of course! We weren't sure whether you'd leave Phelarion and come back with him. So, Mom sent me out here to check on him and settle him in."
Typhani realized at that point that, although she had yet to meet them all, Adrian had obviously told his family a great deal about her. She felt uncomfortable, thought, about the sentiments he had shared with her about his parents. "They don't get along well, do they?"
"Who?"
"Adrian and your parents."
"No, they don't. It's not that they fight--they're just not close. I'm not that close with them either, but sometimes Adrian really needs to give Mom a break. She means well--she's just . . . ditzy!"
"And what about your younger brother?"
"That little mutant is a complete idiot!"
"I see. So you and Adrian are the close ones?"
The smirky smile left Morgana's face. "Yeah." Typhani could tell that there was more that Morgana would not tell her. "And if you're going to be--close to him, I mean--then there are some things I probably need to explain to you." Morgana hesitated a moment, debating whether she should offer up her next thought in words. "You see, Adrian has had girlfriends before, of course, but you're different. He's never been this serious with anyone before."
Typhani already knew as much, but sensed at that point that Morgana might fear that she would somehow take away some of that closeness between her and her brother. They proceeded into the kitchen, and Morgana seemed to check over what was there--what their mother had sent--and to recall what she had told her to relay to Typhani. She continued. "First thing, if he ever gets hurt or anything like that, he's allergic to bacta, severely allergic. A few drops will cause a major reaction, and exposure to more than a few ounces will kill him, so don't ever let anybody get it near him. In his position, that's classified information, of course."
Typhani nodded in understanding, and concern.
"Next, you've got to keep a lot of high-calorie munchies in your house--he loves cookies, as you can probably tell. He won't eat a lot of anything at one time, and so you have to add extra calories to anything you cook or have prepared for you. Of course, have yours taken out before they douse it with cream sauce, else you'll end up as big as a bantha if you eat what he does. He's never been able to keep his weight up--a preemie, you see--and hyperactive metabolism, genetic, Dad's the same way, but Adrian is worse. And, if he gets too much underweight, then he picks up every germ in the sector! Disgusting, isnt it? I wish I could eat an entire bag of crème wafers and lose weight!
"Also, he needs to be kept on a schedule. During military operations, it's not really an issue, but I don't know what kind of support staff he has with this new endeavor, or what. You see, he gets . . . entrenched in certain types of projects, and will go at it full force for days without eating or sleeping properly. And then--"
Typhani chimed in and they finished the sentence in unison. "He picks up every germ in the sector!"
Another thing that Morgana particularly liked about Typhani was that, by her sheer size and strength, as well as the effect she had on Adrian, she could likely deal easily with any manifestations of her next, and darkest, disclosure.
"And then there are the rages."
"Rages?"
"Oh, yes. I take it you haven't experienced one yet. His temper, you see. Sometimes, he can lose control so completely that he turns purple and nearly passes out. One of these days, he's going to have a stroke if he's not careful! Now, I don't mean to make you afraid of him, for he's never actually struck anyone or become physically violent himself toward the target of his anger, but he can certainly overreact, to his own detriment as well as to those around him. For instance, he goes off on the servants sometimes, threatening them, ordering them to do things that he shouldn't have them do, or else he summarily dismisses them. He'll carry on sometimes until he exhausts himself, or until someone intervenes, which most people are afraid to do. I can do it, and Mother and Father can, but not Gideon. I suspect you can as well. Sometimes, he just needs a steady hand to calm him down and bring him back to reality."
Typhani nodded thoughtfully. She had seen a bit of Adrian's temper, but not o the extent Morgana had described. "Do you know what sets him off?" she asked, wanting to understand anything that might upset him.
"Most of the time, it's a . . . shortfall of expectations, usually work-related. Basically, it upsets him if he doesn't get his way, or more so if things don't go as he has planned. Disruptions, interruptions, that sort of thing. Now I did see him get angry a couple of times with Genevieve and Theala, but not to nearly as great an extent. In fact, in those situations, he usually just turns cold."
"Yes, I know," Typhani revealed.
"Oh," Morgana commented. "I didn't know that you knew. That's right, you two did have some sort of a disagreement, didn't you?"
"It only served to bring us closer together," Typhani explained.
"There! Do you see what I mean about him being closest to you?" Then, Morgana turned back to practical matters, not wanting to meddle too deeply into her brother's personal relationship.
"This kitchen is pathetic! Mother slacked off a bit, I think," Morgana continued. She showed Typhani how to log onto the Senate Support Services network through the built-in panel on the kitchen wall so that the droids would start coming in to clean, fetch the groceries, etc.
* * *
When Typhani finally got in the shower that evening, Morgana quietly approached her brother. "I need to talk to you. I didn't want to say anything in front of Typhani," she said very matter of fact. They stepped outside onto the balcony and closed the thick lommite doors behind them. Morgana continued pointedly. "I had another run-in with Theala when I was on leave last month." Morgana thought back to the full encounter as she relayed it to her brother . . .
* * *
She had been in one of the many outdoor markets in Eriadu City, shopping, in fact, for the luminescent earrings that she'd worn the previous evening. Someone tapped her on her shoulder, and made a feeble attempt at sociability. Morgana merely drew her brows together and scowled down her nose at the fat, obsessed--and very married--nuisance who had been stalking her brother. "Look, Theala," Morgana half-growled, "It's high time you knew. Adrian has a girlfriend, on Phelarion."
"Phelarion," Theala sneered. "It can't be serious!"
"Well, if eternity isn't serious, then I guess not," Morgana quipped snidely as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I haven't seen an official announcement," Theala replied hopefully.
"There hasn't been one yet, although I'm sure you've been scouring the papers and the tabloids and the holonet for it, or the absence of one, haven't you?" Morgana asked sarcastically, noting the printout of that day's Eriadu Free HoloDaily sticking out of the top of Theala's bag.
"Well, I--" Theala began defensively.
"Drop it, Theala," Morgana warned before she could add the words "love Adrian" to her pathetic platitudes.
Theala hurriedly scrolled through the short list of Phelarian socialites in her head. "Who is it?" she pressed. "It's Maiven Laviano, isn't it?"
"Nope," Morgana snapped.
"Uh--well, then it has to be Raphyani Krinn!"
Morgana shook her head teasingly.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"Think big, Theala. Think industry. Think power. Who's the sole heiress to the biggest industrial power on the planet?"
Theala cringed. She knew she'd been had. "Typhani Octovano?" she squeaked.
"Very good, Theala!" Morgana patronized her, clapping her hands. But, in a way, she could understand Theala's difficulty. She, too, had come from a well-bred, aristocratic background prior to her marriage to Crueya Vandron--an arranged marriage. It still happened in the Outland Regions, and Theala found it utterly demeaning, no matter how well off Crueya was.
"Look," Morgana continued, "you've got it better than you think. There are a lot of girls in the social ranks who would die to have Crueya thrust upon them!" Morgana emphasized the suggestive double-meaning of her words by batting her bright blue eyes at Theala. "He's really an okay guy. Your problem is that you just can't accept the fact that he was foisted on you." Her expression turned to one of condescending mock sorrow. "Well, I can see how that would be difficult for you."
Theala sniffed. "I just can't believe that Adrian would reduce himself to communing with panderers to the criminal undergalaxy! Everyone knows where House Octovano gets its customer base, and its not respectable!"
Morgana took a step backwards, as if drawing back for her final lunge in battle. "You see, Theala, the heirs to the truly great houses in this part of the galaxy don't have others choosing their partners for them. But you wouldn't understand that." Morgana then turned on her heel and strode away.
* * *
Adrian let out an exasperated sigh and looked away. "You know," he said disdainfully, "I'd really hate to have to take her out."
"You're thinking of it?"
"If I have to. If she ever threatens Typhani . . . "
Morgana smiled softly. "You know, Adrian, I think you've done it this time."
"I know I have."
"How long have you two been together now?"
"Eight months."
"Have you asked her yet?"
He hesitated. "No."
"Why are you procrastinating?"
"Well, for the first thing, we just got here. She hasn't had the opportunity to fully experience what our future may be like yet. And secondly, I haven't taken her home yet. Of course I don't care what Mother and Father think, or Gideon or Uncle Weldan or Aunt Zaki for that matter, but out of form, I can't ask her until the proper introductions have been made."
"So make them!"
He looked away.
"What gives, Adrian?" Morgana demanded, grasping her brother by the arm.
"I don't care what they think. But of course I certainly care about what Typhani thinks."
"And you're afraid she'll be scared away?"
"It's a possibility, isn't it?"
"I don't think so. If you were going to be living at Villa Galaxia and interacting with them every day, maybe. But even then, I don't know. You two have something . . . unique. I can't explain it, but I can feel it."
"That's encouraging. I thought it was a figment of my imagination."
"Not the way she looks at you."
He turned away again, this time folding his arms across his chest.
"There's something else, isn't there?" Morgana pressed.
"It's too perfect. No one will take us seriously."
"Now what are you talking about?"
"Our relative resources and connections, Morgana. We each have a great deal to gain from such an alliance. And so you know what the public and the media will say."
Morgana nodded. "An arranged marriage for political and financial gain."
"And they'll insist that we don't love each other."
Morgana looked thoughtful. "That could be a good thing."
"What? How could that possibly be?"
"Well, Adrian, for one thing, the paparazzi don't follow couples who aren't in love. No passion, no good pictures. Such public sentiments could actually enhance your privacy, and I know how you feel about that."
"A very good point. I hadn't thought of it that way."
"Do you really love her, Adrian? Do you love Typhani, or do you love the idea of controlling the galaxy's megonite supply and being under Selden Motti's wing?"
He had to be honest with his sister. She would know otherwise. "All of the above," he admitted.
"I thought so. Well, then, it seems to me the rewards far outweigh the drawbacks. To hell with the public and the media, then! As long as you're sure of how you feel and what you have to offer each other, that's all that ultimately matters."
Adrian finally nodded confidently at his sister, grateful for her sage counsel.
* * *
When Morgana got leave again a few weeks later, she arranged for a layover on Coruscant so that she could meet up with Adrian and Typhani on their way to the Outer Rim. Morgana sat in a rear seat in the shuttle as it began its descent into the Eriadu system, basking in her little victory. She would see her older brother happy this time, if she had to literally knock her parents' heads together or kick her little brother squarely in the fanny.
Adrian looked over at Typhani as the slate-gray shape of his native Eriadu appeared in the forward viewport. Though it was the celestial neighbor of her native Phelarion, this would be her first encounter with the heavily industrial world. He glanced over at her. "I hope you don't mind being either scrutinized or smothered."
"What am I to expect?"
"Well, Father will just stand in the corner and watch you. He'll express his opinions to me later. Depending on how many my mother has had, she'll likely be all touchy-feely, then back off and be perhaps a bit critical. Just let it go in one ear and out the other. Feel free to absolutely ignore her."
"Then why are you bringing me here at all?"
"Because this place is part of our future, Typhani. The estate is already mine, for all intents and purposes. We'll very likely spend a great deal of time here."
As she reiterated his comments to herself in her mind as they approached the landing pad, she felt a radiant internal warmth as she closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder.
* * *
The Tarkin family compound was called Villa Galaxia, and it overlooked the bay on the west side of Eriadu City. Because of the extensive manufacturing in the area, and the planetary government's unwillingness to see the resultant damage to the environment, an artificial dye was regularly dumped into the bay to keep the water looking blue. Expansive and luxurious, but perhaps a bit gaudy, the main house had lofty, domed ceilings, highly polished marble floors, and, well, ugly gilded columns in its colonnades.
"If Mother gilds one more column . . . " Adrian fumed under his breath as they entered the main foyer. "Don't worry," he said more loudly to Typhani. "We'll re-do this place from top to bottom when the time comes."
Wilhuff and Marganitha Tarkin were quintessential Seswennan socialites. Much as Adrian had described, Wilhuff stood every bit the older version of his son at seemingly military attention, in the corner, with his hands clasped behind his back, his chin raised such that he looked down at anyone in his presence, including his own children. As Eriadu's Chief Military Officer, he was a distant father figure and a stern disciplinarian with very high expectations. It was a miracle he was even in town. He indeed stayed gone as much as possible, and the red-headed reason why stood near him, a wine glass in her hand, that she set on a table as the others approached.
This was going to be a challenge, perhaps unpleasant, Adrian thought. Marganitha greeted them with open arms and a saber tongue. "And this must be our little Typhani--actually not so little, I see! My goodness, Adrian, she's as big as you are!" Because of Typhani's Phelarian build, the two were almost the same height. Phelarian women easily outdistanced their other human counterparts by several inches in height--and several magnitudes of sheer muscular strength, rarely appearing overweight. They also outlived other humans--and Phelarian males--by several decades.
In response to Marganitha's off-handed comment, Typhani merely put her arm around Adrian and drew herself up such that she was actually a centimeter or so taller than him in her high-heeled boots. She glared sternly and decisively down at Marganitha, but did not say a word. Her stance, though, resounded loudly through high-domed drawing room, screaming in presence alone, "You have been replaced!"
Marganitha believed that her son could do better in finding someone to take care of him, as if that is what he needed or wanted. In her mind, he did. She'd never gotten past the memories of the premature infant--three months premature, in fact--that was supposedly not going to make it. It would be the galaxy that would find out how wrong that prognosis had been.
Just then, a barefoot young man about nineteen or twenty years old, wearing jeans and an ill-fitting Carida Academy tee shirt and whose hair had not been combed, sauntered slovenly into the room, looking as if he had just gotten out of bed. He took one look at Typhani. "Where's she from? Dathomir?"
"Dammit, Gideon!" Morgana seethed through clenched teeth, and drew back her fist.
Typhani whirled on the young man. "Dathomir!" she barked. "Now you look here, you little idiot!"
Gideon promptly shrank and retreated from the room.
"Go comb your hair and get dressed for dinner!" his mother demanded after him. Then she looked to her husband in the corner. "Don't just stand there, Wilhuff! Go do something about him, coming in here looking like that in front of guests! Hes a disgrace, and hes your son!"
Adrian rarely saw his father smile, but he saw it that night.
"I think someone already did," the elder Wilhuff said, looking admirably at Typhani. "Backbone!" he thought. He liked that, as well as the fact that his son had managed to link up with Grand Admiral Motti's niece. Though he and his wife would have preferred a bride from one of the old aristocratic lines of the Core Worlds, the potential alliance at hand came with possibly greater advantages, unless they managed to discourage the young woman with their insults. He marched off after his wayward youngest son.
"I'm gonna kill him! I'm gonna kill him!" Morgana repeated under her breath.
* * *
Adrian cornered his brother in one of the upstairs corridors as he, Typhani, and Morgana also went upstairs to get ready for dinner. "Two D's, Gideon? You and Nolan are both lazy disgraces to this family!" Adrian admonished his younger brother.
"Dammit, Morgana!" Gideon shouted as his sister ducked into her private apartments.
"You should have thought about that before you spouted your mouth to Aunt Zaki!" Morgana reprimanded him as she closed her door.
Gideon turned back on his older brother. "You think you're such a big-shot! You're the disgrace, Adrian! All the mess you're involved in now! You think word doesn't get around? Palpatine's a slimy glob of Sithspit, and so are you! Everybody at the Academy knows it!"
Typhani shot Adrian an alarmed glance as Gideon stomped off down the hall toward his own rooms. "What was that all about? He shouldn't talk about Chancellor Palpatine like that!"
"Don't pay any attention to him. Hes still just a kid," Adrian told her as they slipped into his apartments.
"But then how does he know about you and Pal--"
He drew her close and silenced her with a kiss. "Discretion," he reminded her. He could see the growing understanding in her dark eyes.
` When she was alone with him, Typhani realized, it seemed as though everything else faded into the background, space opened up, and she could bathe her soul in his passionate, powerful, congenial charisma. He could make everything else, all outside pressure and distractions, vaporize into a nurturing cocoon of love and affection. But within that cocoon grew the deeper awareness of what their future might bring and who they might become. Her dark Phelarian eyes may have become starry at times, but through them, and with Adrian at her side, she could always see reality clearly. The magnitude of the growing ripples of danger, dissent, and intrigue reverberating around them was certainly not lost on her.
Adrian perceived similar sentiments. Typhani had an uncanny ability to steady him, to keep him focused--she seemed to be a calming beacon of sorts for him--and he sensed that she would support him unconditionally, unquestioningly in any dream he pursued. It was only in her presence that he could ever completely let his guard down, and let go of the stress of his rapidly developing career. She was the only person he had ever met with whom he could actually back down and let take control for awhile--and the only one he had ever allowed to truly comfort him.
As he put on an elaborate brocade evening tunic in preparation for dinner, he mentally surveyed the house and the grounds to find the right spot for his intended purpose. But then he decided not to do it at Villa Galaxia at all. That was his territory. The Octovano estate next door on Phelarion wouldn't do, either, as it was her territory. He wanted mutual ground--someplace that was theirs--someplace in close proximity to those who actually treated them well, who didn't hit them, who didn't criticize them, and who believed in them.
* * *
"Well?!" Morgana demanded of Adrian the next morning as she got ready to go back to her military flight post.
"I decided to wait until we get home," he explained. "This is yet a strange place to her. And her familial estate is still somewhat new to me. But our little nest back on Coruscant . . . Were just starting out there, and so its ours."
"You're sweet, Adrian!" Morgana said, smiling warmly at him. "Did you get our binder from Mother?"
"She turned her back and allowed me to take it." He glanced away, then looked back. "Can you believe she actually wanted me to give Theala one more chance? She insisted that Theala would leave Crueya in a heartbeat for me, that I could do so much better,' as she put it. I told her that I wouldn't have Theala, didn't even like her anymore, and that I was doing just fine. She finally relented, of course. I just can't believe she'd have me take up with a married woman and estrange us all from House Elegin and House Vandron. I'm wondering if Mother's up to something. I will find out, and she'll regret it," he concluded with a tinge of warning in his crisp voice.
* * *
Social and religious customs in that part of the galaxy, particularly on Eriadu, did not call for the exchanging of rings or other tokens in engagement and marriage. The reasoning was that if one needed a token around one's finger as a representation of one's love for one's spouse, than that love must be only shallow and fleeting at best, especially if one needed such a tangible reminder. The bond of love itself should be a strong enough token in and of itself. Still, there were certain ceremonial customs for commemorating that bond, for establishing date markers, and for signifying the official status of the relationship to others.
On Eriadu, the custom was that each familial house held an object called simply a "marriage binder," a bejeweled, beaded ribbon, about three centimeters wide and a little over a meter long, that was used to bind the right wrists of the two individuals at the point of engagement and then again at the wedding. At the selection of his mate, an Eriaduan male heir would obtain his house's binder from his family's matriarch, and upon the acceptance of the proposal, wrap the binder once around each of their wrists. A Phelarian variation was to have a friend or family member do the wrapping of the binder after the couple had agreed to marry. In either case, at the wedding, the officiating magistrate would wrap the binder three times around the wrists of the bride and groom. Vows were then exchanged in private after the ceremony, and customarily updated and renewed upon each anniversary.
* * *
When they returned to Coruscant a few days later, Adrian and Typhani realized that their relationship with the Supreme Chancellor was developing a pattern. "He wants us to come down for dinner again," Adrian said as he put down the comm port after checking in with his mentor. This was the second such invitation in a month, and, like before, it would be just the three of them.
"How did you meet him?" Typhani asked as she pinned her hair into place.
"He was the keynote speaker at my commencement and commissioning at the Academy. I was the valedictorian, and so the Commandant introduced me to him. We had some brief conversations, and he's kept up with me ever since. I suppose he knows talent when he sees it."
"He's certainly a good judge of character and ability, then," Typhani complimented him. He indulged deeply in her steady and consistent comments of validation.
* * *
After dinner, the threesome began their evening conversations, as would become customary over the coming months and years. Palpatine had been observing, as was his purpose, the interactions between Adrian and Typhani. He liked what he saw, but he wanted to make sure it was going to last. "You two have quite a future before you," he commented, then turned more directly to Typhani to clarify. "You're going to be a very prominent businesswoman in the Outer Rim."
"Yes, I hope so," she acknowledged. Like Adrian, she had grown quite comfortable in Palpatine's presence, especially when the three of them were alone.
"I've noticed that the two of you enjoy being quite close to each other," Palpatine observed. "You don't like being apart, do you?"
Adrian and Typhani looked at each other, joined hands, and then looked back at Palpatine.
"Tell me," he continued, "have you two discussed the practical logistics of your future?"
"Practical logistics?" Adrian echoed.
"Yes. One of you on Phelarion and the other on Coruscant or elsewhere? I'd hate to see you two kids get into something that isn't workable for you."
They looked at each other again, and answered him only with their silence.
"Well, then, perhaps I'd better leave you two fine young people to discuss some very important matters," Palpatine concluded.
* * *
"Adrian, what is he driving at?" Typhani asked intensely after they reached their apartment.
"He just needs to make sure we--or at least I--stay focused and don't have any, well, personal problems of sorts. Don't worry. He's just being a good mentor to us."
"But he's right, you know. About us being apart. I will have to return to Phelarion, and be based there, probably sooner than later. And I really hate being away from you." They drew closer to one another at that.
"Then we both shall have to be willing to travel, to meet each other. We shall both have to be sure to employ good staff members in whose hands we can safely leave our affairs."
"Yes, I suppose we could do that," she acknowledged. "And take proper advantage of the time we do have together."
Then they both came to another realization at that moment. It was time.
"You know, Typhani, we've been talking about each other, and others have been talking about us, and our future, as if we're already . . . bonded for eternity or the like. I've even caught myself doing it."
"So have I," she laughed. But then her face took on a more serious expression, and she put her arms around him and leaned close. "But I'll tell you something," she continued softly. "It's never been an issue for me. Not since the minute we lifted off from Phelarion together."
"What does your father think?" Adrian asked, wondering if, by her customs, he should speak to Baron Nostremi about the matter.
She laughed openly at that. "Do you really want me to tell you what he said before we left?"
"I think it would be good for me to know."
She laughed harder, and almost couldn't stop.
"What?" he insisted.
"He told me not to come home an old maid!"
Adrian withdrew the marriage binder from his tunic pocket then. To carry it with him had been his only way to hide it from her.
"You'd better marry me then, hadn't you?" he said lovingly, beaming at her.
"Yes, I suppose I had!"
They folded into each other then, kissing passionately, losing themselves in their own private sphere of joy.
"I just had a scary thought," Adrian said when they regained their composure.
"What's that?"
"Your father and my mother at our wedding reception!"
"It'll take every drop of liquor in the sector for that! They'll drown!" Then they both broke into open laughter, and threw the small, square futon accent pillows at each other.
"I'd really rather not indulge in such formalities," Adrian continued. "My mother will force me to have that ridiculous Gideon as my best man, and Raith will never speak to me again!"
"And I can't choose between Daphni and Raphyani! They would never speak to each other again, or to me!" Typhani commented of her cousin and her best friend.
"You're sure you don't want a big wedding?"
She shook her head. "Not with all the complications we would have to endure. Besides, you've seen how my father acts. It would be an embarrassing spectacle, all over the media. We'd be stereotyped for life. And, my Uncle Selden would be so thoroughly embarrassed by the whole charade that he'd probably turn his back on all of us for good! Let's play it safe and just have something small and private."
"Aren't we getting a bit far ahead here? We'd better make this official first, hadn't we?" He reached for the binder, and her right wrist.
"Wait a minute," Typhani interceded. "Let's ask the Chancellor. After all, he's treated us better and showed us more interest and concern than anyone else?"
Adrian, of course, was elated at the thought.
* * *
Palpatine as well couldn't have been more delighted when Adrian and Typhani visited his chambers and asked him to bind their engagement the following afternoon. He congratulated them both warmly, then took up the intricately beautiful House Tarkin marriage binder and drew their right wrists together.
And then, before either of them realized what was happening, Palpatine wrapped the binder not once, but three times around each of their wrists! Of course he had the authority to do it--he was the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic! "So be it!" he declared.
For a moment, Adrian and Typhani just stared at each other, stunned. But then they drew together, casting their free arms around each other, pressing their bound wrists between them, consumed by the energy and passion of their first marital kiss.
Palpatine knew that what he had just done was all right with them. He knew they could have a celebration of their choosing later. For the moment, though, he wanted, needed, to make sure that their union was sealed, and that his promising young protégés were well centered and content. He also wanted to make sure that Typhani was also well on board for his purposes, but should anything unfortunate happen to her, that her lucrative birthright would pass to her husband, or vice versa. There was simply no time to leave anything to chance. Each of them would serve him well, but together they would prove to be complementary, symbiotic jewels of power in his cunning hands. They would never have it easy, Palpatine knew. They would weather adversities that would destroy either of them individually, but together, he knew that they could persevere.
He almost couldn't believe how smoothly the entire process had gone, how easy it had been to influence them, to manipulate them, to coerce them together, even from clear across the sector. Because he had disguised his true identity, Palpatine knew that Baron Nostremi did not remember his visit to Phelarion a couple of years previous to secure munitions for a covert operation prior to the Battle of Naboo. He found more than megonite there, however, in the form of the Baron's stately and intelligent daughter, whose sensitivities and energies, family connections, and likely her sentiments and ideals as well, perfectly complemented and augmented those of his brightest protégé, the young tactical genius from Eriadu, and whose birthright would certainly augment his future plans for the Republic--or that which he envisioned it to become. They were genuinely in love despite him, he knew, destined to have found each other eventually anyway. Their love for each other would be a powerful weapon should either of them ever try to betray him.
Palpatine removed the binder from their wrists and placed it back in its bejeweled, velvet-lined box. He handed the small box back to Adrian, then reached over and took Typhani's hand, raising it to his own lips.
"Welcome to the Inner Circle, Lady Tarkin."
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