The battle at the planet Arlen eventually learned the Chiss called Sevok-358 was so large and chaotic that it took several days to tally the results. There was no hope for an accurate count of how many raiders had killed or how many of their ships destroyed versus escaped, but the estimate presented by the Chiss asserted that around fifty percent of the vessels they'd found at Sevok-358 during their initial ambush had been reduced to a chain of scorched debris that drifted in the planet's orbit like a gnarled halo.

As for the Imperial and Chiss losses, those could be determined with more clarity. Being the first to attack the Chiss has suffered the most damage, with a casualty rate of around thirty percent of total troops. For Davek's Fourth Fleet the rate sat at around twenty-five percent, hardly much better. Admiral Grave's Second Fleet got out of it practically unscathed with losses below five percent.

Those were proportions. When the raw death tolls were calculated and the status of the critically injured added in, the number of soldiers lost at Sevok-358 amounted to a quarter-million Chiss and roughly the same amount of Imperials, mostly from the Fourth Fleet.

It was a difficult toll to wrap a mind around. For Arlen the worst troubles were the most immediate. More than half of the Imperial Jedi he'd brought with him for the fight were dead. Allana Solo Djo was badly injured from the fight with Abeloth and exposure to the vacuum but at least she was set for recovery. Grand Master Lowbacca's daughter was dead, as were two veteran Jedi Masters. The worst was that it clearly wasn't over. Abeloth was still out there, presumably holding the body of the Erath's so-called Queen of Night; possibly she was in possession of even more. From what Arlen recalled about her, she may have absorbed key information about the Jedi Order from Master Saar's mind. Whether she could rally the scattered raiders for more attacks was unknown. It was uncertainty layered on uncertainty.

It was not something he looked forward to explain to his brother, and it was a mild relief when cleanup from the battle occupied Davek for almost two full days at Sevok-358 before the battered Afsheen Makati began the slow and careful lightspeed trip back to the Bilbringi shipyards, where it and a large chunk of the Fourth were due for badly needed repairs. Once the fallback to Imperial space began they finally had the time to discuss it. Marasiah joined them, and for a long time Davek simply sat on the sofa in his admiral's cabin, listened to the two Jedi as they explained what Abeloth was, the threat she represented, and the damage she'd already done.

When they finished Davek looked down at his folded hands and took a long minute to gather his thoughts. Finally he looked at his brother and said, "I understand why you didn't want to explain all this before. Frankly, I wouldn't have believed you."

"I hardly believed it either, but she was there," said Marasiah.

"You killed her. It took a proton torpedo to do it, but you did."

"She has bodies to spare," said Arlen. "The question is what she can do with the body or bodies she has left."

"You just said you don't know the answer."

"Nobody does. That's something the Jedi are going to have to find out next."

"Which Jedi?" Davek's eyes narrowed. "Our Jedi, the Imperial knights, or the ones from Ossus?"

"It's the same Order."

"You know it's not."

"I'm sorry, Davek, but in the eyes of the Jedi there's nothing special about knights from Imperial Space, just like there's nothing special about knights on other academies."

"Our government doesn't see it that way. Arlen, your knights are allowed to operate with my fleet because I asked you to. Me, personally. Grave or any of the other fleet admirals wouldn't, not even because they're anti-Jedi. They don't want to work with soldiers who don't follow orders."

"Are you asking for an apology for running off? You just agreed I couldn't have explained about Abeloth. We needed to move fast to stop her and we did."

Davek sighed. His eyes slipped to his wife and back to his brother. "You told me about how Allana's team investigated the Erath homeworld. What about other Jedi teams? How did they find Sevok-358?"

This was the part he'd been dreading, and he'd been stupid to think his brother would overlook it or just let it go. He'd wondered whether to lie when this question came up; wondered whether it might be better for his relationship with Davek. It was an option that would only offer brief escape and lingering guilt; still, he was tempted to lie.

When he hesitated to answer Davek looked at his wife. "Marasiah?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"There's no reason she would," Arlen sighed. "The Jedi search teams were guided by the information from the Kaleesh warship Imperial Intelligence retrieved."

Stony, cold, Davek asked, "How did the Jedi get a copy?"

"It was my decision," Arlen said, deciding to leave their mother out of it.

"Did a Jedi steal it?"

"No. No Jedi was involved with the theft."

"Then who did?" Davek pressed.

Arlen sighed. "I enlisted the help of Tamar Skirata."

Davek looked like he was on verge of bursting. "I'm sorry, are you telling me you hired your ex-wife to commit treason for you?"

"It wasn't treason. And I didn't hire her. She did it to honor Dad."

Mention of their father seemed to soften his anger. "Arlen, the other admirals are going to ask how the Jedi found Savek-358. Avaris is going to ask. What do you expect me to tell them? Do you want me to lie to protect the Jedi?"

"What's the lie about? This all worked out in the end, Davek, for everyone. The raiders are crippled. Odds are good they won't attack again, at least not for a while. This was a victory."

"Then why doesn't it feel like one?"

Arlen looked away. He was right; it felt like no victory at all. There was too much uncertainty, out in uncharted space and in his own family. He didn't know what was coming next for either.

Davek heaved another sigh and pushed off from his sofa. "I need to think about this. I need to figure out what I'm going to tell them. But Arlen… I don't think we'll need your services right now."

"What does that mean? Me, personally, or all the Jedi in the Empire?"

"Arlen, take your people. Go back to Bastion so they can rest after all this. Look in on your daughter."

It made him feel guilty, but in all that had happened he'd almost forgotten about Marin and the Bastion riots. "Okay. I'll do that. I'll look in on Vitor and Roan too."

"Thank you," Davek said, but didn't meet his eyes.

"What about me?" asked Marasiah.

Davek looked at his wife cautiously. "What do you want to do?"

"I'd like to stay with you. And I'd like to keep some of Knight Squadron."

"All right. Go ahead. You two can decide among yourselves which Jedi go or stay."

"But I'm going back to Bastion," said Arlen, a statement with a touch of question.

"You can go to Ossus too, or wherever you want. Just… Take some leave, Arlen."

After what he'd done with Tamar's help, Davek would be in his rights to come down harder. Arlen supposed he should be grateful, but all he felt was that the lingering distrust between them had grown thicker.

"All right," he said. "Give me until we reach Bastion to decide everything. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go down and look in on our wounded."

He didn't offer Marasiah the chance to walk with him, to talk about Davek or the Imperial Jedi or anything else. Compelled by the urge to get out of that room he spun on his heel, marched out the door, and did not look back.

-{}-

At long last, the air of tension that had stretched the Bilbringi crew to point of breaking relaxed. Word of the big battle in the Unknown Regions came down and as far as Lukas Briggs was concerned it was cause to celebrate. The raider fleet had been ambushed and smashed at their secret redoubt with the help of the Chiss. Their leader had apparently been killed, and some rumors said it was Admiral Fel's wife who'd done it- a Jedi knight and a Voidwalker to boot. Lukas hadn't seen Marasiah Valtor in over fifteen years but he still remembered the frigate's CAG as a small dark-haired woman with a stern demeanor and an iron will.

The news wasn't all good, but even the rest gave the Bilbringi crew a sense of purpose. The Fourth Fleet had taken a lot of damage during the battle and was lurching back to the shipyards in dire need of repairs. They were set to start arriving within twenty-four standard hours, and when they did the entire shipyard staff would be set to work. From the reports that had filtered down to Lukas' desk it would take over a month of full-staff overtime labor before the Fourth was close to fighting shape.

Because the news was, overall, good news, and because soon they'd all be working their butts off for one month straight, all the varied watering holes in the Bilbringi 'yards that night were packed to bursting with techs, administrators, and officers getting on one last hurrah. That night Lukas met Colonel Malkin at the Rimwalker and they enjoyed several rounds of ale and a few messy games of darts with some of Lukas' friends from the quartermaster's office. At one point, after it had gotten late and a few of the staff officers had retreated to their families, Malkin slung a heavy arm over Lukas' neck and tugged him to a relatively private corner of the bar.

"You doing okay, Sarge?" asked Lukas as Malkin's heavy body leaned against his.

"I'm hanging in there, Private. Just fine, thanks." His bushy face was close and the ale was strong on his breath.

"It's good though, Sarge. We're through the mess, aren't we? Smashed the invaders. Settled the score." He smiled with relief but Malkin didn't return it.

"Oh, Briggs," the older man said, "We're just getting bloody started. You know that, right?"

"Well, sure, we'll have to work our butts off getting the Fourth back to fighting shape, but still-"

"No, no, that ain't it."

Malkin's squeeze on his neck tightened and Lukas tapped his tricep. "Okay, okay, just loosen up a little. It's all good, Sarge. Really, it's all good."

Malkin loosed the hold but didn't pull his arm away. With his free hand he wiped a bit of spilled ale out of his beard. "You've been a great help so far, Briggs. Just like I knew you would."

From the hush in his voice Lukas figured he was talking about the extra supplies he'd let slip onto the base along with the fresh troops from Yaga Minor. After the whole thing was said and done he found he hadn't felt guilty at all, not when he'd done what he'd done in order to protect civilians at the 'yards, civilians like his family.

"No problem, Sarge, really." He patted Malkin's arm again. "It's a good thing we didn't have to use that stuff, you know?"

Malkin exaled; his knees weakened a little and his weight pressed down on Lukas a little more.

"Sarge, is something wrong?"

The older man breathed deep, straightened, and finally pulled his arm off Lukas' neck. "Not a damn thing. Want another round?"

"Um, are you sure that's a good idea?" Lukas felt okay but Malkin looked like he'd had too much already.

"Of course it's a kriffing good idea. Come on, just one more round, my treat."

It was longstanding policy in the stormtrooper corps to never turn down a free drink, especially when someone ranked above you offered to pay. "Okay then. If you inside. But one more round."

He followed Malkin back to the bar, and they got their drinks, and to his slight surprise it indeed ended up being the last round. When he got back to the habitat wing the children were asleep but Marian was still up; for once she was forgiving of his tardiness. As they lay down to sleep it occurred to him that he never did find out what had bothered Malkin; the man hadn't hinted anything else about it during their last shared drink. Lukas decided it couldn't have been that important, and with that thought allowed himself to drift away into sweet and simple rest.

-{}-

It was a truism among the One Sith that all who did not draw power from the Force were vermin. This attitude was consistently drilled into all those raised Sith; for Darth Kroan, who'd been seduced to the dark during adolescence, the attitude still came easily. As a member of a centuries-old Kuati aristocratic Kuhvult family he'd been raised with a similar flavor of fervent elitism.

The Sith had opened his eyes and he knew the truth of what they said; still, the born aristocrat in him knew that some non-Force-users were less vermin than others. In upbringing and sensibility he had much alike with Moff Corrien Veers, scion of a venerable Imperial line that proudly claimed to have served Lord Vader himself. Veers had noticed their shared sympathies, without knowing the full truth of them, and had been quite happy to forge a closer relationship with KDY's chairman.

It was a closeness they both tried to keep out of the public eye. It was for that reason that they met this time in secret; Veers had found some excuse to get away from Yaga Minor for a few days and Kroan, after a few weeks busy with KDY business, had claimed executive privilege and taken his personal yacht- itself the size of an Imperial frigate but far more elegant- out to the Mid Rom for an ostensible pleasure cruise.

Darth Kroan had personal staff who'd keep secrets; none would ever speak of Veers' shuttle slipping into the yacht's docking bay, nor of the sumptuous dinner prepared for just the two of them. Once the staff and servant droids delivered everything on the table they followed orders and left the two men alone.

Even among trusted staff there were things they couldn't say aloud, and it was a relief to have full privacy. After swallowing his first mouthful of a spiced nerf steak, Kroan said, "I trust the datacard I provided was helpful?"

"Oh yes," Veers nodded. "I've had agents patch your executive command codes into two dozen star destroyers in the First, Second, and Third Fleets."

"But not the Fourth?"

Veers smiled ruefully. "Admiral Fel is sharp, and busy besides. Now that half his fleet's undergoing repairs at Bilbringi, I might try and make some modifications. But that depends on your timetable."

Kroan smiled politely and took a sip of wine. It was a curious dance the two of them played; they shared the same goal of removing Neela Avaris and installing Veers himself as head of the Empire, but they had separate machinery working toward that goal, segregated and mostly secret from each other. Kroan had insisted on it; better to insulate him and the One Sith's operations from the Jedi when they inevitably started snooping around Veers. He'd given the moff some important tips, namely arranging for him to work with the Mandalorians. Veers hadn't specified exactly what he'd wanted Gevern Auchs' commandos for at the time, but it was easy to guess that he'd enlisted them for a false-flag attack on the Chiss Ascendancy.

They weren't going to say it aloud even now- such were the careful rules of their game- but Kroan said, very politely, "I understand the Chiss were the ones who started the attack on the raider base. They must have taken heavy losses."

"That's true. They did." Veers moved smoothly past his last comment being ignored.

"I heard the Fourth Fleet was also badly damaged."

"Yes, and it would have been twice as bad if the Chiss hadn't been there to absorb the blows."

"I see." He bit off another bit of steak, chewed, and swallowed. "Tell me, what about the Second?"

"Admiral Grave's fallen back to Yaga Minor and started overseeing repairs."

"Minor ones, relatively?"

"They got off barely-scathed," Veers nodded firmly. He didn't say whether Admiral Grave's late arrival had been planned in advance. Kroan knew Veers had invested a lot of trust in the young admiral, though he insisted he'd shared nothing with Grave about his relationship with the Kuati.

"Well, that's fortunate for him. And you." Kroan sipped more wine. "You'll get an official announcement tomorrow, but I'm pleased to say that all work on Invincible has been completed. Your great new star destroyer will be on its way to Imperial space very soon. I'd plan on it arriving in, say, five standard days."

"Excellent," Veers grinned. He'd lobbied harder than any Imperial moff or admiral to build a new, state-of-the-art super star destroyer. There'd been no immediate threat four years ago, which had made his hawkishness all the more appealing to the One Sith, who'd been looking for an ally in the Imperial hierarchy.

"Tell me," said Kroan, "You have the executive command codes for the ship, but what do Avaris and Darakon expect to do with it? Which of the four fleets will it be assigned to?"

"There's been a lot of argument among the military brass for that. My sources say they'll want to bring it to Bastion first for a public christening ceremony."

"That should help bring order to the capital," Kroan observed.

Veers nodded. "It will show everyone that the Empire is strong, like it used to be. After that, there's talk of sending it to patrol the border and show the flag there. Admiral Darakon himself wants to command those missions."

"I thought the supreme commander was more an administrative role."

"It is, but it's going to be a show of strength, not an actual combat mission."

"Really? Are you that sure the threat from the raiders is gone?"

Sith information on the raiders had been frustratingly spotty even before Darth Avanc's report. The news that the ancient Force abomination Abeloth had been commanding the raiders had sent shocks through the One Sith. Fifty years ago, the creature had turned another group of Sith into her playthings and had only been put down by the combined efforts of Luke Skywalker and Darth Krayt in a battle that had nearly killed both the Grand Master and the Dark Lord.

Veers scowled and prodded his food with a knife. "We broke their fleet and captured their flagship. Their commander is dead, apparently. The Jedi say they killed it. The problem is, the Jedi..."

"What about the Jedi?"

"There's some indication that the Jedi may have used classified Imperial intelligence when searching for the raiders' base."

"Admiral Fel?"

"Who else would it be? His brother and mother are both in the cult."

"So you could use it as an excuse to move again him. Arrest him or at least strip him of his command of the Fourth."

"Believe me, I've set things up so Bilbringi is as good as mine, but I'd need more proof before I go after Fel."

Kroan smirked. "Please. If you can't find incriminating evidence you can always make some up."

"I've thought about that. But frankly, the Jedi have been getting popular lately. So has Fel. They've both been on the front lines of all these battles."

"Then you'll have to turn public against them."

Veers narrowed his eyes. "If you have any advice, I'd appreciate it."

They were at the familiar impasse; they worked to the same goal but each had secrets it was best for the other not to know. After the Battle of Kalee, the Grievous had escaped that system, apparently after a team of Jedi had refused to fire on it. Darth Kroan had invested considerable resources into tracking that ship, initially because it presented a random element that could interfere with his plans. Veers and Imperial intelligence had also tried to find it for similar reasons, but in the end the Sith had resources vermin did not.

He could explain everything he planned to do, but it was risky, and there was no need. A few nudges would suffice; Veers was a smart man. He'd figure out the rest.

"Here's some advice for you," Kroan said. "When you bring Invincible to its christening ceremony, make sure Avaris and Darakon both attend."

"They're planning on that anyway."

"Let me be more specific. Make sure they both leave Bastion and jump into orbit together. And make sure you're not with them."

It was as blunt as their talks ever got. A new seriousness settled over Veers' face as he calculated the timing, the things he'd have to do. If the Head of State and Supreme Commander were suddenly removed from the picture the Moff Council would have to call an emergency vote to select the next Head of State until a proper election could be held. Veers had plenty of allies on the Council but he needed to be sure; Kroan could feel his thoughts whirling in his Force aura.

Kroan sipped a little more wine and casually cut another piece off his nerf steak. He chewed it and swallowed and looked back at Veers; the man was still thinking, dinner all but forgotten in front of him.

"Don't let the food go to waste, Moff Veers," Kroan smiled teasingly. "After all, what's the point of having these, ah, pleasures if you can't enjoy them?"

-{}-

When she returned to her house after being called to the communications center by the landing zone, Jade Skywalker Tainer stepped through the door heavy by the weight of everything she'd learned. She closed the door behind her, heard Nat and Kol in the kitchen with the babysitter Jade had called on short notice, but didn't go to join them. Outside the noon sun shimmered bright on their homestead's endless fields; the sky was beautifully clear. The life she and her family had had on Fengrine these past years suddenly seemed perfect, now that she knew their idyll was over.

She stood there with her boots on the entry mat until Pella peeked her head out of the kitchen and said, "Jedi Skywalker, I thought I heard you! Are you alright?"

Pella was the daughter of one of their neighbors, a couple of humans who owned a farm two kilometers away. She had hair the color of straw, a pale freckled face and blue eyes that were always bright with energy. The children loved her. Pella was sixteen, Jade remembered dully. The same age she herself had been when her father had died.

Jade spent a few minutes listening to Pella chatter on without hearing a word of it. When the girl seemed done Jade politely thanked her for coming on short notice and paid her twice the usual fee. After thanking Jade profusely the girl went outside, got on her speeder bike, and flew off back home. Jade didn't watch her go; she stayed in the kitchen with Nat and Kol, who'd just finished the lunch Pella had made them.

Nat gathered the dished and took them over to be washed; it was the chore Jade had just introduced him to. The seven-year-old seemed intent on that alone but Kol stayed in his seat, watching his mother with those curious eyes that always seemed to know more than a three-year-old could say.

"Nat," Jade said. "Come here. The dishes can wait."

Her older son let theft them piled on the counter and walked back to the table. He sat down on the chair next to Kol and both Jade's sons looked up at her with serious faces. As young as they were, they knew something was wrong. In a family of Jedi there could never really be secrets.

"I just got a call from Ossus," she began, and immediately faltered. There was no way to explain to the children everything that she'd heard. Abeloth returned, Allana injured and Lowbacca's daughter dead along with a dozen other Jedi. The Sith reappeared from nowhere. And their father, Jade's husband and closest friend since childhood, was now in their grasp.

Jodram wasn't dead. She knew she'd feel that, as certain as anything. The Sith might be torturing him this very second; they might kill him at any minute. It was an anxiety that would never go away until she found her husband or the unthinkable happened. Until either of those passed, she doubted she'd be able to think at all.

There was no way to tell any of that to the children so she tried to summon fragile hope. She bent close and placed a hand on either shoulder and squeezed. "Something happened on the mission your father went on. The Jedi…. don't know where he is."

"Do you know?" asked Nat.

She shook her head. "Not right now. But I'll find him. I swear it. Now, we don't have time to waste. Nat, get everything you think you'll need for a few weeks and pack your bag. Help Kol get everything he needs. We'll all be going away for a while."

"Where?" Kol asked.

"We'll all be going to Ossus. You'll stay at the Jedi Temple where it's safe. I'm going to go with a group of Jedi and we'll get your father back." She wanted to say more; she wanted to promise them she'd get Jodram back but hope only went so far. She knew the chances for a successful mission were painfully low. It was a miracle Jodram hadn't been killed already.

Maybe the boys sensed that; maybe they didn't. Nat nodded and so did Kol. They both looked too old for their ages. Jade's own childhood innocence had ended with the death of her mother at age four. When she looked in Kol's three-year-old eyes she couldn't bear the thought of him going through the same thing even younger.

She gave their shoulders one more squeeze and said, "Come on, get going. You've got a lot to pack."

And so they did as they were told. Nat led and Kol followed and then she was alone in the kitchen, surrounded by all the accumulations of a normal, quiet life with her husband and sons. And she knew- in her gut, in the Force- that no matter what she and the Jedi found when they went searching for Jodram the normal quiet life was over. The days they'd shared as family would never come again.