The Sanctuary of Regret
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Doc's finger hovered over the 'send' key. After reading the message a third time, his index finger came down like a hammer. For better or worse, the letter was sent. Bleary-eyed, he rammed his hands through his hair and slumped over his desk on his elbows.
Kira sidled up beside him in her bathrobe and clasped his shoulder. "Hey, sleepy-head. Breakfast…"
He leapt away from his desk as if her touch had shocked him awake. "You scared me half to death!"
"This has been going on long enough," she said, setting a fresh cup of caf in front of him. "Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to mind-trick it out of you?"
He rubbed at the redness framing his eyes and yawned. "You noticed, huh?"
"I'd have to be a one-eyed space slug not to." She counted the symptoms down on her fingers. "Not eating, not sleeping, no cheesy come-ons. You have kittens by the litter every time I turn on the holonet. You promised—no secrets, remember?"
He eyed her warily and picked at his mustache. "Yeah, uh, that's the thing, kiddo…there's something I gotta confess."
"So help me if you did more than flirt with that Twi'lek smuggler I'll Force choke you so hard you'll see stars. And not by the throat either."
"But you're a Jedi."
"I was Sith first—don't forget it. Now out with it."
Doc gulped hard. "N-Nothing like that. I swear."
"Oh really." She folded her arms. "This ought to be good."
"Not sure where to start—uh, you remember how we were always scrimping back on Nar Shaddaa? Barely enough for ourselves, never mind all your um…friends? Until I got my practice?"
"I remember." She eyed him hawkishly. "What about it?"
"That's the thing—I didn't inherit it like I said—not exactly."
"What do you mean by not exactly?"
"The old doctor wasn't looking to retire. He was retired. By the Black Sun. He screwed up and I—I um, they replaced him…with me," he blurted. "That's where the credits came from."
Kira's mouth hung open. "I should've known. No one makes that kind of money on Nar Shaddaa unless they're a Hutt. So what? Are they coming for us now?"
"No—nothing like that."
"Then what?"
"I was a face merchant."
Kira rolled her eyes. "Oh, this just gets better and better. Are you outta your mind? You know what? Never mind. I already know the answer to that one."
"I was wrong to keep it from you. I should've told you sooner. I know how much it meant to you to help your friends. I wanted you to be happy."
"Happy? How can we be happy if we're dead?"
Doc spread his hands. "Calm down—no one's gonna die, and no one's coming for us. I promise."
"You keep saying that, but I don't believe you. I want the truth or I'm taking Kiran and we're leaving. Right now."
"A'right," Doc murmured. "Back on Nar Shaddaa, I worked hard, kept my head down—never asked questions. I didn't want to know. Did the work, took my pay. I never knew any of the faces, I swear."
"That doesn't make it okay."
"I know…I was wrong. I'm sorry, I messed up."
Kira's eyes softened. "Something changed though…"
"A few nights back I saw a face I knew on the holonet—and they started to talk about him—his family—he had a wife and kids on Dromund Kaas. They have no idea what happened to him. I started thinking—what if it was you and Kiran—you'd want to know what happened to me? Right? They needed closure."
"Tell me you didn't write the Empire," she whispered.
"I owed it to them. They had a right to know he wasn't coming back and why."
"Oh Kark. Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I tried to forget it but I couldn't—they had a right to know."
"You were fine with keeping it from all the other victim's families."
"Because I didn't know."
"At least tell me you encrypted it—maker tell me you did that much."
"They won't be able to trace it back to us, I promise."
"You scrubbed the outgoing message log right?"
"'Course I did," Doc whispered and pulled her into a tight hug. "It'll be okay. You still love ol' Doc, right?"
"I probably need my head examined, but yeah, I do."
The Star Destroyer, Invidia entered the Fath sector on the Outer Rim and assumed a steady course for JanFathal and its capital, Athar.
"Admiral Ethos, we have an incoming transmission from Odessen—it's heavily encrypted—it appears to be from The Hand of Jadus," the communications officer announced.
"Put it through to his sanctum, Lieutenant Illes."
"Yes, sir. The transmission has been transferred and is undergoing decryption protocols."
"Very good, Lieutenant."
Darmas Pollaran's image bloomed over the holo console and cast an icy light across the barren meditation chamber.
"What is it, Agent?"
"Good news, Lord Jadus—your men have taken delivery of the items you requested and my people tell me they're good to go. Just say the word, my lord."
"And what of the Supreme Chancellor? The Alliance sympathizer must be dealt with if the treaty is to go forward."
"Jebevel Madon has resigned. The Republic's bleeding hearts would take a dim view of his company's part in the manufacture of those delightfully sadistic slave collars of his, not to mention all those alien rights violations. Interim Supreme Chancellor Rans is amenable to the peace process, but the demonstration would expedite matters."
"And the Grand Master of the Jedi Order?"
"Still on Coruscant—and like the rest of his kind, he believes even the most atrocious monster can be redeemed, especially one of their own. Master Relnex is an obstacle."
"You have proven your loyalty and continue to serve me well, Agent. You have maneuvered our opponents into position, but one detail continues to elude you—Cipher Nine. She is a symbol—one that must be brought to heel. Knowledge is a prize few deserve and its dissemination must be restricted."
"My sources tell me she's taken refuge in the Juran Mountains on Alderaan. Eliminating her would be the wisest course—an air strike perhaps…"
"No—she is an extension of my divinity. I will deal with her personally."
"What did you have in mind, Lord Jadus?"
"That is for me alone, you do not require the details."
"You'll be moving ahead with the plan as we discussed?"
"My judgment will arrive at the time of my choosing, Agent. Never forget—I am Eternal and the cataclysm will be the consummation of my design. Be vigilant. Be prepared—but most of all trust in my ascension—your obedience will be rewarded."
Jadus turned his back to the projection and after its pale light winked out, he returned to his desk and pressed the intercom. "Admiral Ethos, execute orders five-twenty-five and one-zero-nine."
"Five-twenty-five? My Lord?" Ethos stammered. "That's Dromund Kaas."
"I'm well aware, Admiral," Jadus said calmly. "You have your orders."
Despite the wild-eyed stares from the officers near his post, Ethos swallowed and gave the order.
Two cities on two worlds on opposite ends of the galaxy would share one fate.
Ethos shut his eyes. "Your will be done, Lord Jadus."
Quinn stood in the doorway of Liatrix's office. "My Lord, might I have a moment of your time?"
"Of course, come in," she said, gesturing for him to come forward. "What can I do for you?"
"I've completed the autopsy on the replicant and I have a few findings I'd like to discuss."
"A'right. Have a seat." She poured tea for the two of them. "I've been meaning to come by—see how you're doing. Even if he was a clone, I still think it would've been difficult. If you need some time…"
"That won't be necessary, my lord, but thank you for your concern. It goes without saying if there is anything I can do—anything at all, you've only to say the word."
"Thanks, that means a lot. You look worried—what did you find?"
"Aside from the replicant being a first generation clone of my brother, there is little truth to the account given by Dr. Kimble and Darmas Pollaran."
"They lied? Why?"
"I suspect a cover-up, my lord. For whatever reason, they wish to conceal how the replicant died."
"What did you find exactly?"
"The replicant was killed while he was fully under anesthesia—all indications suggest he had been prepped for surgery. A blaster was discharged into his chest at close range, I'm guessing at least five times.
"Postmortem lividity scans indicate his body had been moved and arranged to appear as if there had been a struggle. I also took swabs of the operating table and found several of the replicant's epithelial cells, which further corroborates he'd been moved. Though I've not been able to examine Dr. Kimble or Darmas Pollaran, I suspect their injuries were self-inflicted to add weight to their story."
Liatrix pinched the bridge of her nose between her eyes and sank into her chair. "I know Doc, this makes no sense. Why would he perform surgery on this man? Why lie? Where there any indications he'd been hurt? Doc might've been adhering to his oath as a healer. He wouldn't turn away an injured man, no matter who he was."
"There were no such indications. The replicant was in top physical condition. He didn't have so much as a scar or blaster wound, aside from the installation points of his cybernetics."
"I have to be honest, Quinn—I'm not troubled in the least by this man's death, but what I am troubled by is why they would lie to me and what I should do about it."
"I have no doubt he meant to harm the Alliance. I would suggest, given your relationship with Dr. Kimble that you question him privately."
"And Darmas?"
"Say nothing for now. Learn all you can from Dr. Kimble first—then consider your next actions. We have no reason to trust Pollaran."
"He did make it possible for me to eliminate Arcann."
"He provided a method, you did the heavy lifting, so to speak. I can't imagine it was easy for you and should you need to discuss it further, you've only to ask."
"Please understand—that's the last thing I want to do. I want to forget."
"I don't blame you, my lord. My advice still stands—it may lead to other revelations."
"As always—good advice. What would I do without you?"
"I'm sure you would arrive at similar conclusions, my lord."
Theron Shan paced and yet his eyes rarely wavered from the tumble of code shifting and aligning on his monitor. Sweat moistened his palms and his heart galloped in his chest. He didn't dare put a voice to his hope for fear it might bring an end to it.
On and on the code dribbled into place and a mad grin cracked his face. His eyes were wild and grainy from too many nights with too little sleep.
The code suddenly stopped and so did he. He froze like a frightened nerf face to face with a butcher.
The strings came together like sentences in a holonovel with vibrant characters, vivid locations, and dizzying dialogue. He couldn't blink and he couldn't look away. Mindlessly, he drifted to his chair and sat down hard.
He could hear the voices in his mind. He shuddered at the memories some of them brought back, but most of all, he marveled in the beautiful precision of the AI's mind as he traveled through her memories at the speed of thought. Her knowledge of the universe—her understanding of humanity bred the realization in his mind of how inadequate those terms were in scope and structure.
Tears welled in his eyes and his hand clamped over his chin.
She didn't execute the children herself—she'd ordered Lia's HK to do it.
Visions of sand and rose-tinted skies and ancient Sith monuments grew out of the code and though he'd never been there, he recognized Korriban. Sandstorms ripped across the landscape wiping the droid's footprints as soon as Scorpio's vessel took to the sky.
She left the three of them there and the children were still alive.
A new thought—a fact—bubbled up through the code from his own mind and took hold…
Devoted HK units develop a series of fail-safes over time that would preclude them from acting against their prime directive.
HK would die before hurting those kids.
He raked his hands through his hair and laughed but before long the sound died in his throat and his smile faded.
"I can't give her false hope—I can't do that to her...I have to make sure."
((to be continued…))