As someone who'd traveled from one side of the galaxy to another and been to so many different star systems she'd long lost count, Tamar Skirata could say with some authority that in Imperial space everything, even the supposedly rough-and-tumble trading outposts on the edge of the territory, was comparatively buttoned-down.

Phaeda was one of those planets that had a reputation amongst Imperials as a place for scum and villains, but for Tamar it felt safer than most places she'd been to. There was still a visible police presence, and the city centers were kept clean and safe. It was only in the poorer neighborhoods, where the building went to shambles and the police disappeared, that one might feel unsafe, though even here Tamar wasn't worried. It could have easily been different; women were generally considered easier marks for thieves, kidnappers, and worse, and though Tamar was a little taller than most and knew how to carry a tough air someone still might have tried something. Once she donned her black-and-blue beskar'gam armor, everyone in the street kept a respectful and wary distance.

For Tamar it felt good to back inside her shell. It wasn't the kind of outfit you brought out of the closet on Bastion, but it was exactly appropriate for the meeting she'd been called to. It had been six months since she'd last gotten a message from her cousin Dorn and over a year since she'd met any of her family face-to-face.

That Man'dalor Gevern Auchs had branded her a traitor and set her to be handed over to the Sith was no secret among the Mandalorians. That she'd escaped, been rescued by a Jedi, and eventually had a kid with him was no secret either, and the thought never left her that, if she ever did something to anger Auchs again, he knew exactly where to find her daughter. Every Mando knew that attacking someone was an attack on their whole family; Auchs wasn't stupid and there was no visible reason he'd want to bring all of Clan Skirata against him, but that possibility was always there, and it always left her a little on edge.

That was just one of the reasons she'd kept a low profile since leaving Arlen all those years ago. As long as she didn't try to move back to Mandalore and kept only sporadic, secret communication with her clan there was no cause for Auchs to act against any of them. The Mand'alor surely knew the Skiratas kept some contact with her, but as long it didn't get in his way he'd be content to ignore it. Polite fictions, as Dorn had once told her, were the backbone of all politics.

She wondered if he'd have any more bits of jaded wisdom to dispense as she walked through the market she'd been told to find him at. Unlike most Imperial worlds Phaeda had a human-minority population; the stalls and customers around her contained dozens of different species and the only thing they had in common was that they gave an armored Mandalorian wary looks and a wide berth. As she scanned the rows she found someone who didn't flinch from the mirror-black surface of her helmet's visor: a hulking Herglic whose broad grey-skinned body took up the entire span of the fruit-stall it manned.

Tamar wound her way through the crowd to the shall. The Herglic- she'd never been able to tell genders for that species- held out a round orange fruit and said, "Something for the road, miss?"

She picked it up with her gloved hands. "Is it sour?"

"Oh, no. Very sweet."

"Got anything sour?"

As she'd been told to expect, it scooped up a few of some red fruit with a webbed hand. "Only for the brave, miss. You're welcome to try one."

"You'll understand if I don't take you up on that," she said through her helmet. "Do you know anyplace where somebody like me could find some privacy?"

A toothy smile spread on its face. "I do, actually. Do you see that alley behind me? There's a very nice, very private establishment, second door on the right.

"Good to know." She took out a few credit chips and dropped them into his fruit-pile. "Might be back for the fruit later."

She did as the Herglic had instructed, shouldering her way past a beggar and slipping down an alley so narrow she could barely fit her armored shoulder-pads through. She found the appropriate door, knocked, and waited. When it slid open she was staring at the face of a Rodian.

"Finally," he said and waved her toward a second door. "They've been waiting on you for a while."

Tamar went through the next door, into a small square chamber with a low table in the middle and a colored-glass roof that let in dimmed rainbow light from the cloudy sky.

Seated at the table, cross-legged on the floor, were two figures in Mandalorian armor with their helmets removed. Her cousin Dorn had a face like hers: a sharp nose, narrow mouth, and black hair, though his was going an early gray. He sometimes said the color-change was thanks to the Kaminoan clone genes from three generations back, though more likely, she thought, it was because of the teenage girl seated across from him.

Dorn's daughter Ninet was six months older than Marin, edged into her fifteen year. She looked older and, to Tamar's view, acted older to. That was to be expected; children grew up fast among the Jedi but they grew even faster among Mandalorians, and at fourteen she was considered a newly-minted adult. Ninet about the same size as the cousin she'd never met and had the same black hair and dark eyes, the same still-soft roundness in the face that said she wasn't quite a grown-up, even if she was good at acting like one.

"How long did I really keep you waiting?" Tamar asked as she removed her helmet.

"A while," Dorn said, "But that's okay. Have some tea."

As he poured a still-steaming cup for her Tamar sat down at the table with her helmet beside her. "Tell me, is that fruit out there any good?"

"Not really." Dorn passed her the cup. "But he knows when to keep secrets and when not to."

"Been to Phaeda before then?"

"Enough to make a few friends," said Dorn. He picked up his small white cup, as did Ninet, and the three drank together.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you," Tamar said, "But I'm wondering why you called me here. I ended up having to skip out from Bastion at a very inconvenient time."

"Sounds like the Imps finally have their invader problem under control," Dorn said. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"It is. I was talking about the riots on Bastion that happened hours after I left."

"Family caught up in it?"

"Yes," Tamar grunted. "Nothing too serious, though."

Which was true enough; Vitor had been the one to break his arm while Marin had gotten only minor scrapes. The psychological spook of being caught in a murderous riot and stampede was something else; the Jedi kept their kids locked up in the academy meditating and mock-dueling so they had little appreciation for how mad and savage their fellow sentients could get. She only hoped Marin learned something from all this.

"Well, what we're here about is actually kind of the first thing," Dorn said. "The raider thing. Maybe."

She frowned and set down the cup. "You're not usually cryptic. What's going on?"

"We don't exactly know," said Ninet. "We do know that Gevern Auchs and his most trusted lieutenants went totally missing in action for about two weeks. A couple still haven't come back."

Auchs rounding up his top people for a special mission wasn't rare. That he'd try to keep the thing a secret wasn't either, nor was the fact that someone would talk and let secrets slip; Mandos were boastful hard-drinking mercenaries, not intel agents.

"What else do you know?" Tamar asked.

"Just scraps," said Dorn. "Rumors, really, but they do point to something interesting. One, I heard from sources I'll keep unnamed that this mission took 'em into the Unknown Regions. Two, Auchs and most of his lieutenants came back to Mandalore just a day ago, after I called you. If you look at the timing and travel distance, they would have done this hypothetical job in uncharted space about four days ago."

"The same as the Bastion riots," she said. "Are you saying it's not a coincidence?"

"That part, probably. What have you heard about the Chiss getting involved?"

"Only that they were."

"Which isn't typical Chiss behavior."

"Not unless the raiders attacked them first. From what I've heard those aliens- whatever their goal was- fought like neks with rabies. It's a wonder none of them attacked Chiss space before this."

"I'm throwing that out there, to think about."

"You think Auchs attacked the Chiss?"

"I don't think anything. What I've heard is that we lost a couple dozen Mandos out there, whoever we were fighting."

"Hmmm. Sounds like they were strong enemies, then."

"Right. But the real kicker, the reason I called you four days back, is this." Dorn hunched forward and got a little grin on his face. "I know a guy who says he saw Galaset making a rendezvous just a day before Auchs- and Galaset and the rest of his inner circle- went missing."

That was intriguing, if true. The alien hunter was one of those trusted lieutenants that had been close to Auchs since his ascension to Mand'alor twenty years ago. "Are you sure your friend didn't mistake another Kerestian?"

"He wouldn't make a mistake. And the real kicker is where he saw Galaset and this human meet."

Tamar rolled her eyes. "If you're going to play games all day..."

"Broken Moon," Dorn said, grinning wide.

Tamar sighed. She looked down at her drink and sighed again. Her first trip to that smuggler's nest had been seventeen years ago; she hadn't expected the way it would change her life and even now she kind of didn't believe it, even though she had a daughter as irreversible proof.

"So what are you suggesting? That I go there and ask Sherev'ath if she did any eavesdropping on their conversation?"

"It is something she'd do. And for you she might even do a favor."

"Not me. The first time I met her I punched her in the face. It's Arlen she's… grateful toward."

"Well," Dorn shrugged. "Maybe she should be your next stop."

Having close dealings with Sherev'ath, the Twi'lek slave turned crime boss, was something Tamar generally tried to avoid. She also tried to avoid doing too much with Arlen, for totally different reasons. Unfortunately, this was potentially too big to walk away from. If there was a chance she could uncover another truth about whatever was going on in the Unknown Regions she felt compelled to look into it; for Marin's safety if nothing else. And frankly, if she could use whatever she learned as a weapon against Gevern Auchs, that would make things worthwhile too.

"I'll swing by Bastion and see what I can do," she said. "What about you too?"

Ninet said, "We were thinking of swinging by Broken Moon ourselves."

"Really?" Broken Moon was on the opposite side of the Outer Rim from Phaeda; it wasn't a place you just swung by.

"If you or any other relations go in that direction," said Dorn, "We'll be there to back you up."

"So you'll hang around here in the meantime?"

"Phaeda has its charms. You just have to look really hard."

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time I come here. But it sounds like I'd better get back to Bastion."

"Yes, sure does."

She swallowed the last of her tea- still hot- and got to her feet. Before she put her helmet on she said, "Thanks for the tip. I'll see you both around."

"Re'turcye mhi, ner vod," Dorn said.

It had been a long time since she'd had Mando'a thrown at her regularly. She fumbled for a second before saying, "Re'turcye mhi, Dorn'ika, Nin'ika."

Then she put on her buy'c and for a second it felt like old times, before she'd first gone to Broken Moon and met the damned Jedi who'd changed her life. But only for a second.

-{}-

After a thorough review of the damages sustained at Sevok-358, the chief operations director of the Bilbringi Shipyards gave Davek a six-week estimate until all the ships of the Fourth Fleet were fully repaired. Six weeks was a long time; six weeks ago his father had still been alive and the alien raiders merely a severe irritant instead of an existential threat to the Empire.

Vice Admiral Jaeger was a Voidwalker, once the chief helm officer on Davek's frigate, and he trusted the man's estimate implicitly, but he knew it would take even longer for the Fourth to be what it once was. Too many ships had been outright destroyed in these battles and far, far too many lives have been lost.

Making things worse was the fact that his official duties prevented even a short trip to Bastion. His older son had been injured in the Ravelin riots; he'd heal fine but not being near Vitor at a time like this made him feel like he was being forced to surrender his duties as a father. Arlen and his mother were on Bastion now and they'd make sure he was being taken care of, but that didn't matter. Davek knew that a father should be there for his children, just as Jagged Fel had been there for him.

He was at least able to place calls to Bastion and speak with his family at the Jedi academy. Vitor looked hale except for the sling around his arm and Davek enjoyed those talks a lot more than the other ones he was having with the capital. Neither Darakon nor Avaris had come out to Bilbringi yet to see the battle damage and repair process themselves; they were both sticking at Bastion and getting ready to welcome the newest symbol of Imperial resurgence, the super star destroyer Invincible fresh from Kuat Drive Yards' main facilities. That the thing was set to arrive exactly one week after the Battle of Sevok-358 felt like some kind of bitter universal irony. As much as he hated the very existence of that overexpensive military vanity project, pushed by nominally-civilian moffs like Veers and Thane more than anyone, he hoped its regal unveiling would act as a deterrent if any of those raiders decided to launch another attack on Imperial territory. According to the vessels from the Third Fleet patrolling the border sectors there hadn't been a sign of them, which was something to be thankful for.

He tried to keep that in mind as he finished giving the Head of State the latest update on the repair process. Neela Avaris's blue holo-image hovered in front of him the whole time, nodding and asking occasional questions, and when he wrapped up his talk, he had a feeling that would be the end of it.

Then Avaris took it in a direction he hadn't expected and frankly didn't want it to go in. She said, with the familiar warmth a politician could turn on and off at will, "Thank you, Admiral Fel. I'm glad to see the repair process is going as scheduled. By the way, I just wanted to ask if your son is recovering well."

He knew she meant it as a polite inquiry, a show of personal concern with a trusted subordinate. Instead it triggered a low anger that had been with him since the riots, buried beneath all his other problems but still there. "Vitor's doing much better now, thank you."

"That's good to hear." Like a politician she briskly moved on. "One last thing. Since you've been in contact with your family I was also wondering if you'd made any progress in learning how the Jedi search teams located Sevok-358."

"I've asked, but I'm afraid I haven't gotten an answer." Davek was no politician but he'd learned how to lie. Doing it over blurry holo-transmission made it all the easier. "The Jedi who found it were not our Jedi. They set out from Ossus. As you can image, they want to protect their intel sources as much as we did."

"Of course," Avaris said. "If you don't mind making some more discrete inquiries, I'd very much appreciate it. I know the Supreme Commander would as well. We're all very concerned about operational security and the validity of our intel sources."

She clearly didn't believe him. Davek hated having to lie for his brother; a part of him hated Arlen for putting him in this position in the first place, but there was simply no other option that wouldn't disgrace him, his family, and the Jedi Order on Bastion all at once.

He hated being pushed too; he knew Avaris would keep going on this and suddenly decided to push back. "I promise I'll do everything I can. I'd hate for there to be any confusion. I don't want the government to allow good will toward the Jedi to be tarnished."

Her brows drew together. "I'm sorry, Admiral Fel, I'm not sure what you're talking about. My administration has been nothing but supportive of the Jedi."

"You've supported my efforts to incorporate them into the military. I'm thankful for that, believe me."

"Then what are you talking about, Admiral?"

She wasn't going to let it go either; at least he'd gotten her off the topic of the intel leak. "May I speak plainly?"

"Please," she said coolly.

"In the midst of everything else I've been following the aftermath of the latest Bastion riots. As you can understand, I've a personal interest. I know the legal system will take time to processed accused offenders, but the way your office has been handling the issue is, frankly, unsatisfactory."

"Go on." An order, not a request.

"Those riots started because some hardline old-style Imperials wanted to use Grand Moff Kaine's birthday as an excuse to hold a rally."

"Citizens have a right to free assembly, Admiral."

"And they should. But they- and others- came to that assembly spoiling for a fight. They got it and people were killed."

"Are you suggesting I lay down draconian security measures in the capital?"

"I'm saying we can't have extremists throwing bombs in the streets. I'm the organizations that took part in those riots should be investigated; their members should be placed under surveillance and their leaders arrested."

"To keep the peace," she said sourly.

"Yes. Exactly. Especially the hardline old-style High Human Culture types who've been working very hard to alienate the non-humans who are just as much citizens of the Empire as they are."

When it all came out he couldn't believe he'd spoken so brazenly. Avaris seemed to glare at him across lightyears. "I am not blind to the threat of extremism and I do not sympathize with High Human Culture types. I am trying to preserve the peace and preserve the system of government we have now: open, plural, and democratic. One that can accommodate all our citizens."

In doing so she was coddling the exact types she should have been opposing and giving free reign to men like Corrien Veers, but Davek knew he shouldn't say anything except, "I understand."

"You should, because that's the kind of government your father lived and died to protect. I'm trying to protect Jagged Fel's legacy."

"So am I. Believe that."

"I do." Her expression softened just a little. "Is there anything else you wish to speak of, Admiral Fel?"

"No, Head of State."

"Good. I'll speak with you later, Admiral. Tomorrow I will be busy at this time so please prepare your report for Supreme Commander Darakon. Good day."

The holo winked out. Davek stood in front of the lightless holo-projector and stared at it. Finally, he lifted a hand and smacked himself in the face.

"Oh, that was stupid," he said as pain stung his cheek. The piled-up stress and anger and grief was finally getting to him. Worst of all, she'd been right. Avaris' weaknesses as a leader- her equivocation, her tolerance for sympathy toward extremists, her subtly pandering to men like Moff Veers- were less the result of flaws in her character as they were inevitable by-products of the democracy his father had helped create. In peacetime a government could get by on those qualities; in time of crisis, when extremes naturally rose to become threats, something stronger was needed to keep order.

It was a dangerous thought. He was his father's son and he knew where turning from democracy could lead. But when he looked at it hard, what he'd just considered wasn't wrong. It was an honest appraisal of a bad situation.

All the more reason to hope this crisis was over, that the Empire without an emperor could go back to muddling along in an ambivalent and democratic fashion. For a few weeks they'd come close to the edge; now it seemed like they were stepping away.

He only hoped nothing came along to give them another push.

-{}-

In the end only a half-dozen Jedi Knights stayed with Marasiah at Bilbringi. The rest retreated to Bastion along with Arlen. That had included injured knights, knights who had family at the Academy they wanted to get back, and knights who were simply sick of fighting and needed a break. The part of Marasiah that was still a soldier couldn't help but look down on that last group a little; that same part respected the ones who'd stayed all the more.

There was work enough to do on Bilbringi. In addition to overseeing repairs on their TIE fighters, Marasiah and the other Jedi helped Davek's tactical staff analyze recordings of the battle at Sevok-358 and compiled thorough action reports for Fleet Command. There was also enough spare time for them to be Jedi: to practice, meditate, and enjoy small pleasures.

Meditation had always come hard for Marasiah; she'd spent her whole life wanting to do things that doing nothing, intentionally, was hard. Her mother-in-law had confided similar difficulties, which made her feel a little better. After a long day reviewing post-battle analyses, she retreated to the temporary cabin she and Davek had been assigned while the Makati underwent heavy repairs. Davek was out working still and she settled herself on the floor, cross-legged, eyes-closed, and tried to push back all the stress: the lists of duties to perform, haunting stories of Abeloth, all her personal concerns for Davek's peace of mind, for her sons' safety, for Arlen to get his act and together and realize he should be helping his brother, not fighting him.

Emptying her mind was hard, too hard, and she was starting to get frustrated when her comlink started to buzz. Eager for the escape she scooped it up; there was an incoming hail. She got off the floor and stalked to the cabin's communications node. With the tap of a button she summoned a familiar but unexpected face.

"Is this a bad time?" Korosh Vull asked.

"Your timing is good, actually. What's going on? I wasn't expecting to hear from you."

"Well, I thought I'd offer congratulations first. The news-nets aren't exactly clear what happened in the big fight, but they are saying the Jedi came out well. You in particular."

"I did my part, but the real heroes are Arlen and Allana Djo. They did the hard part."

"The former chief of state?" Vull's brows raised.

"She's back to being a Jedi now."

"Hmm," Vull said, like he was still trying to wrap his mind around it. She noticed that he, along with most Imperial citizens, had a mental barricade in his head separating the Jedi knights from Bastion with the other Jedi like Allana or Lowbacca, the ones based on Ossus or Bestine or Illum. That always frustrated Arlen, who viewed the Jedi Order as a big sprawling entity that superseded mundane political loyalties, but to Marasiah it had never seemed so difficult. She saw no inherent clash between serving the light side of the Force and serving the Empire; not the Empire as it was now, anyway.

"Are you at Bastion now?" she asked Vull.

"That's right. Calling from Sentinel actually."

"Have you been down to the planet, to Ravelin? What's the mood like?"

"You want a summary of public opinion?" She nodded; he sighed. "It's complicated. When news came down we won the battle everyone was ecstatic- civilians, soldiers, everyone. And they're still relieved, if uncertain, because people aren't sure exactly what was the deal with the raiders."

He paused, like he was hoping she'd elaborate. She wasn't sure she understood Abeloth herself and doubted she could explain it to a man who, she gathered, had never much believed in the Force and still wouldn't if his friend and fellow Voidwalker hadn't turned Jedi.

Thankfully, she had an easy out. "It's all still classified by Fleet Command, sorry."

"Well, I guess I'll keep on being confused," Vull said, half humor, half exasperation. "Anyway, the good news for you is that people are giving the Jedi credit for the victory, even if they're not sure exactly what you did. But over the past few days people have been getting…. unsettled again."

"Why?"

"Because nobody knows if it's really over. Do you?" Grimly, she shook her head. "I thought so. And so everyone's starting to get edgy again, even if they're not quite as edgy as before."

"People can feel as edgy as they want. I just don't want to see any more riots in the streets."

"No one does. But everyone wants to get their points across too."

"Not every points deserves to get across," she muttered. It was something Davek had griped recently.

"Perhaps," Vull said, then brightened his tone. "That should chance soon, though."

It took her a second to remember. "Invincible. That should give people confidence."

"I'm sure it will. Avaris and Darakon plan to give it a very formal, very publicized commissioning ceremony when it arrives at Bastion."

She recalled her father-in-law's funeral and admitted Avaris could do good theater. "Does the First have everything planned yet? Personnel assignments, material distribution?"

"It took some last-minute shuffles, but it's all been decided." Vull smiled. "You're looking at Invincible's new Commander of the Air Group."

"You?"

He laughed. "Don't sound so horrified."

"I'm not. Of course not. Congratulations. That's a huge honor."

"Thank you. I'm a little surprised myself."

"Admiral Hallis must have taken a shine to you."

"I like to think so, but he plays his sabacc cards close. Still, there's a lot of prep work to do. When the commissioning happens we'll still only have a third of the ship's TIE wing stocked, mostly pulled from other ships. We're still waiting on a shipment of factory-fresh units from Sienar to fill out the hangar."

"I'm sure Invincible will have the best fighter corps in the Empire when you're done with it. Congratulations. I'm happy for you. Happy for everyone you're protecting."

"All right, that's enough flattery. I just wanted to check in. And brag a little. But there's still plenty of work to do, like I said."

"Good luck with that, Korosh."

"Thank you. I'd say the same, but I think Jedi have a different way of putting it."

"Slightly, but the gist is the same."

"All right, then good luck. Next time you wing over to Bastion I'll probably busy, but drop me a line anyway. I just might have some time."

She promised to do that, killed the holo, and looked around the cabin. Vull's news had made her feel better. Knowing a friend would be there over Bastion, protecting the planet, protecting her sons, granted her an inner calm she hadn't felt since Davek's father died. She even found herself with a new appreciation for the oversized, ultra-expensive war machine the Kuatis would be delivering in a few days.

With a new warmth inside, she sat down on the floor where she'd failed at meditation and decided to try again.

-{}-

Whenever Marin saw both her parents together she was reminded why they spent all their time apart. No matter how often she'd insisted that what had happened during the Ravelin riots was no one's fault and that she was completely fine, she knew that her father was looking at Tamar with barely-restrained blame for being off-planet when it all went down.

Tamar was doing her best to ignore it. She'd just finished explaining what she'd learned on her trip to Phaeda. Marin didn't understand all of it- she only vaguely knew of Broken Moon as some kind of crime den mentioned by both her parents on rare occasions- and she didn't know who this Sherev'ath person was, or this Galaset. She did know Gevern Auchs was the Mandalore who'd tried to have her mother killed, and she'd heard about Dorn and Ninet and always wondered what her other cousins would be like in person. When Tamar said they'd be heading to Broken Moon too it piqued her interest further.

"It certainly sounds like it's worth investigating," Marin's grandmother said. They were gathered in Jaina's apartment: Arlen, Tamar, Marin, Vitor with his arm in a sling, the old Master herself. Only Roan was absent.

"It's vague… but intriguing," Arlen said reluctantly. "Broken Moon is on the other side of the galaxy and I'm not sure we can stand to be away so long. Do you really think Sherev'ath can tell us anything?"

"She'll tell you," Tamar said with an eye-roll that made Arlen's upper lip twitch.

"Things seem like they're settling down, finally," Jaina said. "They'll be bringing in that brand new super star destroyer in a few days. If that doesn't keep Bastion safe nothing will."

"Well, hopefully the raiders are broken for good," Arlen said grimly. "We lost enough taking Abeloth out."

"What's the word from Ossus?" asked Vitor. Like Marin he'd been filled in on the strange and frightening truth behind the raiders' attacks. "Are the Jedi sending out another search party?"

"They'll do everything they can to find Abeloth," Jaina said. "And Jodram Tainer. But that's nothing for you to be concerned about, young man. You need to rest and heal that arm of yours."

"The doctors say I'll be good to get this thing off in a couple days." He rapped a fist against the metal cast.

"That's good to know, but your grandmother's still right. You're staying put." Arlen said and looked to Tamar. "And you're right too. This does need looking into. And I guess I'm the one who has to do it."

"Then it looks like I'm going with you." Marin's mother crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll pass word to Dorn and Ninet. They'll meet us there."

"Okay." Her father exhaled deeply, like he was calculating the length of the trip. "We'll take Starlight Champion for a whirl. It hasn't gotten enough use lately."

"And leave my ship on Bastion?"

"You know it's perfectly safe in the Jedi academy. If we need to split up for any reason you'll have your cousin's ship."

"How reassuring."

"What? There's nothing wrong with Champ. Or my flying skills."

"That's not what I was worried about."

"Good. We'll take Champ then."

"Okay. We will."

That seemed to settle things, so Marin finally let out the words she'd been holding in for five minutes. "I want to come too."

Despite being out of sync so often, her parents managed to say "Absolutely not!" at exactly the same time.

She looked back and forth between them. "A Jedi's supposed to do something, isn't she, Dad? And Mom, didn't you say that Mandalorians are considered adults at my age?" They both opened their mouths but she pressed on. "I'm serious. After all that's happened I can't just sit around in the academy doing nothing and being safe. Why do you think we sneaked out to Ravelin?"

"She's right," Vitor said. "We're not kids. We can't be after what happened to Grandpa. We can't just sit around either."

Tamar met her daughter's eyes and Marin felt a jolt of understanding between them. Arlen, strangely embarrassed, looked at his mother. Something passed between them too, and Arlen said, "Another mission, maybe, but not this."

"Why? I'll have both of you to teach me, and look out for me if there's trouble. When else is that going to happen?"

Tamar nodded slightly. Arlen sighed. Jaina said, "She has a point. Frankly it might be best for all three of you."

"I know, I know." Arlen shook his head. "You're right, Mom. And Marin. I know you are. It's just..."

"What?" pressed Marin.

"Neither of you have met Sherev'ath before."

Tamar actually laughed. "You nearly got killed fighting a timeless Force abomination and you're scared of one little Twi'lek dal'ika?"

"Not scared for me. I'm just… You know."

Tamar looked at her daughter. "Your father's afraid you'll never see him in the same light again."

Marin had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. "You're saying I can go, right?"

"I think you will," Jaina said, and as always the old woman had the final word on the subject. Then she told Vitor, "You, young man, are going to stay here with Roan and me and finish your recuperation. Next time there's a chance to go gallivanting around the galaxy it'll be your turn, but not yet? Understood?"

Like the rest of them, Vitor knew not to argue. "Yes, absolutely."

"Very good." Jaina looked at her son and flashed a slim, triumphant smile. "I'm glad that's all settled. Aren't you?"

-{}-

"You know, you're normally complaining you don't get to spend enough time with your kid," Chance reminded him.

Arlen sighed and slumped back in the co-pilot's seat. He'd been running checks in Starlight Champion's cockpit, felt restless, and decided to try hailing his friend on Coruscant. As luck would have it, Chance had been available.

"It's not Marin herself that's the problem."

"Her mom, then?"

"No. Well, yes. But no."

"You're getting less comprehensible with age."

"It's where we're going for this mission."

When he didn't go on Chance raised a brow. "Are you trying to make me guess?"

"Why not? It'll be a trip down memory lane for me and Tamar. If you wanna come we'd have the whole set."

His eyes widened. "Ah. Sherev'ath. Broken Moon."

"Exactly."

"You're wrong, though."

"How?"

"If we got the whole set together we'd need that Sith too."

Arlen grunted. Chance didn't know it, but according to a Jedi who'd survived Sevok-358, they'd encountered a Barabel Sith that sounded strikingly similar to the one who'd try to kill him at Broken Moon all those years ago, and who Arlen thought they'd later killed at the cost of his apprentice Wharn's life.

"The three of us," Arlen said, "Is enough."

"Did you ever tell Marin exactly how her mom and dad met?"

"No. I'm pretty sure Tamar hasn't either."

"Well. You're going to have to explain it on the way, unless you want Sherev'ath to do it for you."

He sighed again. "Thankfully it's a long ride out there, so we'll have time."

"Good to hear. Speaking of reunion and coincidence, I'll be swinging out to Kuat in a few days."

"Is Volgma coming with?"

"He is, actually. We're trying to negotiate a contract as a distributor for KDY."

"And you just happen to be old buddies with the chairman of the board."

"Like I said, coincidence. Still, we'll be putting on a good pitch for him and his pals. It'll all be totally above-board."

"Glad to hear it. Wine and dine afterward?"

"Naturally. I haven't actually seen Retor face-to-face in… three years?"

"Well, he's on Kuat full-time since he took over the Board."

"Exactly."

"You're a responsible family man, Chance. No more late nights and endless parties."

"I'm aware, but the same goes for you too."

"Trust me, I won't go all wild at Broken Moon."

"You sure? I've heard Sherev'ath knows how to throw a party."

"Yeah, but they're not my type. And I'm too old. A couple weeks ago I went to this club in Ravelin and I… never mind, it was weird."

"Take care of Marin," Chance said pointedly.

"I will. We're not doing this lightly."

"At least things in Imperial space are settled down now…. Right? Or can you tell me?"

"I hope so." Arlen spread his hands. "All I know, all I can tell."

"Fair enough." Chance tilted his head to hear something. "Family calls. Take care of yourself at Broken Moon."

"Take care of yourself on Kuat."

"Yeah, that'll be hard. Talk to you later."

"Later," Arlen said, and shut the holo off. That little twinge of melancholy came back. He heaved one more sigh and went back to work.