Marin Solo stood on the landing pad and craned her neck back. They rose overhead like malformed towers: the eight-nacelle engine cluster of an old Corellian corvette, the organic-seeming bulk of two Mon Cal cruisers, the broad triangular wedge of an Immobilizer-class interdictor that jutted from the water like a compressed metal pyramid. The stone walls of the rift valley rose half a kilometer on all sides and gray sunlight slanted down through thick, moist air.
The world was called Taivas. It sat one orbit rimward of the gas giant Zhar, neglected in the larger world's shadow. The surface had barely any natural atmosphere, and magnetic anomalies played merry hell with the sensors of inbound ships. Furthermore, unexplained residual energies on the surface created blank spots in the Force, or so she'd been told. She hadn't tried to find out.
It was a strange place to build a hidden temple, but then, that was the point.
Marin turned her eyes from the starship-towers and looked at her cousin. Nat had been the one to suggest this location, and while Kol was overseeing the war effort, the older brother had quietly worked to prepare a Jedi refuge. He'd had some help from the woman standing next to him, a dark-skinned human with the yellow tattoo on her face marking her as a Kiffu guardian from clan Vos. Marin had never met her before, but he'd heard of her. Droo and Nat were, in the latter's term, 'attached,' and they were apparently so attached that Nat had brought her on to help in building the hidden temple. Marin trusted her cousin's judgment, but they'd tried to keep Taivas as secret as possible, even from other Jedi.
For her part, Marin had provided materials and funds. Finding old unused starships wasn't that difficult, but purchasing, moving, and installing them didn't come cheap. Working mostly with Chereth Calrissian, Marin had managed money from their joint credit accounts to quietly build this place. That had taken most of the past year. At the same time, the Yuuzhan Vong shaper Nei Rin had introduced creatures into this continental rift that increased the local oxygen density and made it breathable. Once Nat and Droo installed a comm relay at the rift's edge, the place was ready to function.
It was a grand creation, but also an empty one. The landing platform jutted perpendicular from one of the Mon Cal cruisers and Marin felt very small as she stood with Nat, Droo, and one more Jedi: the ancient Master Tr'a Saa. Marin remembered the Neti vaguely from her days on Ossus. She'd been the embodiment of serenity and sage wisdom, none of which had done Marin much good.
"When will you bring more Jedi here?" Marin asked.
"A few will come to help finish construction." Tr'a Saa gestured to the ships jutting half-submerged in of the water. Their insides were being hollowed out, decks transformed into walls, but it was slow going with only a handful of Jedi and droids to do the work. "But not many. Most of the Jedi need to be out there… fighting in this war."
Nat gave a tiny grunt at that. Marin knew her cousin had been happy to escape front-line duty thus far. She also knew that, with the hidden temple made, he'd move onto something more direct and dangerous, not because he wanted to, but because his brother had set the lead and he was obliged to follow. It was a terrible thing, having to be what you weren't for the sake of your family. Marin knew that better than anyone.
"The Council has agreed that someone needs to stay and watch over this place." Tr'a Saa spread her hands. "I've volunteered to set roots here… permanently."
It took Marin a moment to understand. She knew little about Neti life cycles, but just being ambulatory like a human marked Tr'a Saa as young for her species. That, apparently, was about to change.
"I'm sure Kol appreciates your sacrifice," said Nat.
Tr'a Saa's smile was gentle. "It's no sacrifice. Only the natural order of things. I will protect this place… for centuries, if need be."
"Here's hoping it won't need protecting," Marin put in.
"The war's not going so bad so far." Droo crossed her arms over her chest.
Tr'a Saa shook her head. "The Jedi are no closer to finding out who sabotaged the Ossus Project. Until we find the truth, the whole galaxy is in danger."
"Is that a feeling you're getting in the Force?" asked Marin.
The two Jedi exchanged glances. Nat said, "Maybe in the Force, maybe in my gut. Can't tell one from the other sometimes."
"The Alliance has pushed back the Empire's advance," said Tr'a Saa. "But I'm afraid things might grind into a long stalemate. After Botajef, that seems to be the direction things are heading."
Marin couldn't restrain a frown. The Alliance was trying to spin the recent battles in the Belsmuth Sector as a victory, since they had captured an Imperial admiral and smashed a portion of his fleet. Still, it was hard to cover up the loss of Botajef and, worse, the sudden withdrawal of the Mandalorian mercenaries from the war.
On the ride to Taivas, Marin had spent hours in Runaround's cockpit, listening to conflicting news reports and trying to contact her family. She'd only talked to her mother an hour before arrival. Some of her cousins had been fighting at Botajef under the command of Chernan Ordo, and their fates were still uncertain. What was known was that Ordo was dead, and the new Mand'alor had announced the Mandalorians were falling back to their homeworld and ending their involvement in the war. Mandalorian units had been hired for limited but critical jobs by the Alliance over the past year, and there was no way to know what their withdrawal would mean long-term.
Marin couldn't guess the future; what worried her more than anything, even the Skiratas missing in action, was the identity of the new Mand'alor: Yaga Auchs.
Since the start of this mess she'd tried to keep her involvement limited. She'd helped set the Mandalorians on the side of the Alliance at its start, then helped build up the hidden temple. Otherwise she'd tried to keep to her normal business, staying with Benet and Ania on Fast Start as they shipped cargo up and down the Rimma and Corellian Trade Spines, far from contested systems.
Yaga Auchs' ascension to Mand'alor was something she'd never anticipated and couldn't help feel responsible for. What she'd done to his father and uncle had made him into the man he was today. Her act of mercy had allowed him to live at all and now, thirty years later, she wasn't sure she'd made the right choice after all.
"Have you heard anything about why the Mandalorians pulled out?" asked Nat.
Marin bit a curse. She'd forgotten what it was like to be around Jedi, always sensing each other's thoughts. "Not really." She avoided their eyes. The only ones who knew the full story were her parents. Even Benet didn't know. "I've… met Yaga Auchs. He never wanted Ordo to sign on with the Alliance."
"Do you think he'll join the Imperial cause?" asked Tr'a Saa.
"I don't know."
"Have you talked to your mother?" asked Nat.
"Yes. She says things are a mess on Mandalore right now. Auchs is stomping down rivals, that sort of thing."
"And your family?" asked Tr'a Saa.
Marin swallowed. Yes, she hated being around Jedi. They had no respect for secrets. "They're watching. Very carefully. Auchs is… no friend of the Skiratas, so they might have to scatter and hide."
"Wasn't another Auchs a Mandalore, way back?" asked Droo.
Marin closed her eyes and saw a helmeted head roll across the deck. Almost forty years on, it was still clear. "Gevern. He was Yaga's uncle."
"Will you go to them?" asked Nat.
Marin shook her head. "No. Not unless they really need help. I'm heading back to the Javin System. Benet and Ania are there."
"We appreciate all the help you've given," Tr'a Saa said politely. "This hidden temple could never have been built without you."
"I did what I could." She looked at Nat. "What about you? Going back to Ossus? Kiffar?"
"I'm going back to Kiffar," said Droo. "My Jedi here has other plans."
"Not Ossus either," Nat said. "Got a secret mission to run." He tapped a finger to his lips, forestalling questions.
"Then I guess I'll be going too." Marin looked back up at all the towering starship hulls. She'd put so much effort into making this place, but she hoped she'd never see it again. She hoped she'd done her part and could put all this turmoil- Jedi, Mandalorian, Alliance, Imperial- behind her.
She hoped, but no longer expected. The universe no longer seemed inclined to do her favors.
-{}-
Strong winds buffeted the Sekotan flyer, and to Khat Lah it seemed like the entire planet was trying to wrench them from the air. Perhaps it truly was; storm-clouds had appeared from nothing just minutes ago. Now thunder cracked and lightning threatened to leap out of billowing black and stab their ship. The sleek, wide-winged craft tried to hold position over the deep crater in which the world brain of Chasima was nested. In the cockpit, cognition hood over his face, Besh Lah communed with the flyer's mind and tried to soothe the living ship. As its dovin basal struggled to anchor it above the crater's center, Khat Lah and had joined Vua Yaght and Nei Rin at the ship's ventral portal. Wind and rain lashed their faces through the open gap as Besh Lah tried to lower them into the crater.
As with the ninety-nine other planets selected for the Ossus Project and subsequently despoiled, the Vongforming recreation of these worlds had begun with the seeding of a dhuryam, a specialized telepathic creature like a yammosk, advanced enough to govern the life-forms of an entire world. Each dhuryam had matured into a world-brain that should have overseen the Vongforming of its world. Nei Rin had long held that the sudden, devastating transformation of each of the hundred worlds suggested a synchronized corruption of the world brains. A year ago they'd had to evacuate these planets suddenly, and had since petitioned every government for a chance to access its world brain, to examine it for proof of corruption. Unsurprisingly, the governments had rejected the Yuuzhan Vong's offer of help.
Now it was up to them to make contact with a world brain on their own.
Khat Lah looked into the crater and saw, at its bottom, a great pool of green-brown liquid. Rising from the center of the liquid was the single eye of the brain itself; as large in diameter as their flier's wingspan. Tentacles emerged from the pool and lashed upward like whipchords two meters thick. The flier stayed clear of the tentacles, but to accomplish their mission they needed to drop further into the pit.
"The world brain appears to be hostile," Khat Lah called over the howling wind.
"We came prepared for this," Nei Rin called back, though her voice was mournful. It pained her to have to harm the world brain.
Khat Lah ducked away from the portal and called toward the cockpit. Besh Lah got the message: a moment later the flier shuddered as a second portal on its underside opened, releasing a single spherical capsule. It dropped straight into the pool, barely nudged by wind, escaping one lash of the world brain's tentacles. The capsule disappeared with a splash and the tentacles reacher skyward again.
The flyer was outside their grasp, but the violent winds allowed no comfort. "How long until the solution works?" Khat Lah asked.
"Only a few standard minutes." Nei Rin sounded doubtful, and for good reason. The solution she'd created, which should render the world brain temporarily unconscious, had been made using a recipe from a memory qahsa not accessed in centuries. There's been no chance to test its efficacy until now.
The flyer continued to rock violently in the storm, but Khat Lah peered down and watched the writhing of the tentacles weaken. A cloudy membrane repeatedly nictated over the world brain's single eye and the pool in which it sat quieted as the tentacles flailed less.
"The solution is having an effect," Vua Yaght said. "Should we lower now?"
Nei Rin shook her head. "Give it several more minutes."
A wise choice, perhaps, but not one that soothed Khat Lah's nerves as the flyer rocked in another storm-gust. Since the start of the war, he and his fellow warriors had joined Nei Rin in investigating the failure of the Ossus Project, but their efforts had repeatedly been foiled by hostile governments from the despoiled worlds. Eventually Nei Rin had decided the only option was to take what they needed, and so they'd come to Chasima, which offered a relatively unguarded target.
Once the tentacles finally disappeared beneath the pool's surface and stayed down, Nei Rin decided it was time to try getting close. Khat Lah bellowed the order up, and Besh Lah lowered the flyer straight down toward the pool. The great eye still nictated repeatedly and Khat Lah was reminded of a man fighting off sleep. The pool churned, but no tentacles rose up to smash their flyer out of the air.
"Lower the vine," Nei Rin ordered. "Khat Lah, with me."
Vua Yaght cast a long organic cable from the belly of the ship. It dangled to the base of the world brain and Khat Lah was the first to shimmy down. The violent winds made him sway; his stomach and head swayed too but he continued his steady descent until he could make one final jump. He landed at the base of the world brain's thick eyestalk. His feet pressed hard onto unsolid ground and he struggled to regain footing as the world brain's body shifted beneath him, spilling muck from the pool around his armored calves. Nei Rin followed, and once she landed Khat Lah helped her move close to the eyestalk base.
From there, he did as ordered. He took his wide-bladed coufe and began to cut into the eyestalk's fleshy exterior at exactly the point Nei Rin indicated. Black blood spilled out from the wound and the world brain shifted once again, but no tentacles reached out to crush them. Finally, when he'd cut through the layers of muscle protecting the eyestalk's neural cluster, Nei Rin went to work.
Khat Lah was a warrior, not a shaper, and he didn't understand the details of what Nei Rin did next, but he knew the importance. The shaper retrieved a specialized memory qahsa from her robe, no larger than two fists, and attached it via umbilical to the exposed strand of the world brain's nervous system. She'd explained, without getting technical, that she was accessing the world brain's memory engrams and copying the information to her qahsa. How such a tiny device could store the memories of so great a creature, Khat Lah had no idea, but trusting Nei Rin was all he could do.
When he'd returned to Ossus after his last trip to Zonama Sekot, he'd craved a chance to redeem himself for his failure at Duro and, he admitted now, to make some small hero of himself. Heroism was vanity; in some ways, so was the need for redemption. The end to this was would not come from Khat Lah. He understood that. The end would come through Nei Rin, through the Jedi, through the Skywalkers, but if he could play his modest role in bringing about their victory- and with it, he firmly believed, the will of the Gods- then his self-exile from Zonama Sekot would be worthwhile.
Nei Rin's work seemed to be interminable. Wind and rain still lashed at them, and Khat Lah repeatedly glanced above them to make sure the flyer was still holding position. When Nei Rin announced the process was almost complete, he allowed himself to feel relieved. A second later, as if intentionally timed, the world brain trembled so hard it nearly threw Khat Lah into the pool. He staggered, held on to Nei Rin by the shoulders, and asked, "Is the world brain waking?"
"The anesthesia should have disabled it for longer," Nei Rin scowled.
Khat Lah saw a tentacle rise, then fall back into the pool. "It is waking."
"I don't understand, I-" Nei Rin cut herself off.
"Can we leave?"
Another tentacle rose up and splashed hard into the pool. A wave of green-brown muck washed across them both, soaking their clothes and filling Khat Lah's mouth with its putrid taste. The thick eyestalk began to tremble as feeling came back to it.
"We must leave now!" Khat Lah bellowed and waved the flyer closer.
He expected Nei Rin to protest, but she did not. The shaper began extracting her qahsa's umbilical from the world brain's nervous system. Khat Lah kept his attention skyward; he could see Vua Yaght holding the cable as steady as he could while the flyer dipped a little lower.
Nei Rin slung her qahsa into a sling around her chest and announced she was ready to go. Khat Lah pushed her up onto the vine and watched the shaper ascend as quickly as any warrior could. As she climbed the world brain shifted yet again, more violently than before. Khat Lah knew a great wave was coming and jumped high, grabbing the vine and pulling himself up in Nei Rin's wake. His weight made the vine sway but the shaper continued to pull herself up. Khat Lah looked down, saw the eye nictating faster and the tentacles swirling the waters, gathering strength to strike.
Then someone grabbed his forearm. He looked up; Nei Rin had already crawled through the portal and Vua Yaght was reaching out to haul him in. Khat Lah hurried up the last bit of vine and let Vua Yaght pulled him inside the ship. The other warrior bellowed to the cockpit, and Besh Lah pulled them skyward just as the first tentacles began to lash skyward.
"Should have sedated it…. Longer…." Nei Rin panted; the climb had left her as exhausted as Khat Lah had ever seen her.
"Did we get what we came for?" he asked sharply.
She blinked, nodded. He felt relief fill him; relief for survival, relief for success. Without the latter, the former meant nothing.
"Now we can learn what really went wrong," Nei Rin said, stroking her qahsa. "Now we can set things right."
-{}-
They said war had no winners, but the orbital repair yards at Rendili argued otherwise. At the start of hostilities with the Empire, the corporate conglomerate managing Rendili contracted with the Alliance to serve as a primary repair and supply depot. They were paid well for their services, and Rendili's struggling starship manufacturing facilities had been rebuilt and expanded to meet the demand. The planet hadn't had it this good in a century.
If he thought about it too much, Jaius Yorub got cynical. Thankfully, as captain of Indomitable and chief administrative officer of the Fifth Fleet, he had plenty of other things to do. The Rendili yard crews were hard at work giving much-needed repairs to Stazi and Lekhwash's task forces after the battle, and Yorub had to oversee everything. He was in the middle of haranguing Rendili authorities over schedule slips when he got a comm saying that Admiral Stazi had returned from his meeting on Lekhwash's Krakana.
Rather than meet the admiral in the hangar, as was customary, Yorub finished his business before going up to find Stazi in his office. After he gave the admiral a status report he paused for a moment, then asked, "How did the meeting with the supreme commander go?"
"It went," Stazi said. He seemed unusually tired and slumped in the seat behind his desk. "What you've heard about Botajef is true. The Mandalorians pulled out in the middle of the fight and have declared themselves neutral."
Yorub had never liked relying on the brutish mercenaries, but they'd been useful in several critical fights. "We still took out an Imperial fleet and captured an admiral. It may not feel like a win, but I dare say it is, sir."
"I agree, but the triumvirate is balking at another advance. Lekhwash has been calculating what the loss of the Mandos does to our forces. He's redistributed part of the Second Fleet along the Imperial line."
"What about the offensive planned for Ord Lithone?"
"Still uncertain. The triumvirate is breathing hard down his neck. Losing Botajef and the Mandos spooked them."
"Lekhwash is bold, sir. He's gotten what he's wanted from the triumvirs before."
"Yes, but he's also not foolish. The triumvirs are right to hesitate. And if we didn't see Botajef coming, the Imps might have other surprises for us."
Stazi was sounding uncharacteristically timid as well. "The Imperials don't have the manpower for a major push. They just don't. If we don't proceed with our advance…. This war could drag on in a stalemate."
"I agree. We need a real victory. And Lekhwash is eyeing possibilities. However-"
There was a buzzing from the door. Stazi tapped a button on his desk to open it. An aged Nautolan with green-blue skin and large black eyes stepped inside. Jedi Master Ayen Qemar wore the dowdy brown robes of her order and kept her lightsaber dangling from her belt. Yorub knew that the robes and silver cylinder were the Jedi equivalent of uniform and sidearm; still, whenever he saw Jedi on Indomitable they struck him as out-of-place. Though Stazi didn't say it, he knew the admiral felt the same way.
A little lazily, the Duros rose to his feet. "Greetings, Master Qemar."
"Greetings to you, Admiral. And you, Captain Yorub." The Jedi gave a brief bow. "I've received word that my unit is being recalled to Coruscant."
"That's right," Stazi nodded. "I was in a meeting with Admiral Lekhwash and Master Lowbacca just an hour ago."
"We haven't received new assignments yet. But should you feel it appropriate, we'd be pleased to fight in your service again."
"I will keep that in mind. Thank you for your service, Master."
Qemar bowed again. "And you for yours, Admiral."
The Jedi removed herself. Stazi dropped back into his chair, looking tired again.
"I am glad they're with us," Yorub said. "Just like I'm glad we're not fighting any of those Imperial Knights."
"Yes, Emperor Fel did us a favor by staying their hands," Stazi said. "Though the triumvirs are afraid he'll unleash them if he gets desperate. Another reason for caution."
Yorub nodded; with the Jedi involved he was a little surprised Fel wasn't using his own Force-users. Master Qemar had said that Fel wanted to avoid direct confrontation between his Knights and the Jedi. For once Yorub didn't mind the inscrutable relations between Force-using sects.
"If we are going through with the offensive, the Jedi will be key," Stazi added.
"What about us, sir? Are we going back to the front lines after the beating we took?"
"I told Lekhwash we'd be battle-ready in two standard weeks."
Not what Yorub wanted to hear, especially after the schedule-slips he'd been taking to Rendili about all day. He'd learned there was an art to time management. Always estimate more time than you'll probably need; if you finish early you'll look like a genius, and if things get delayed a little, you'll have wriggle room. Stazi, alas, hadn't learned that.
But because he was captain and Stazi his admiral, Yorub said, "We can do two weeks, sir."
"Glad to hear it." The Duro smiled faintly. "The war seems to be at a tipping point. It could settle into a long stalemant. Or we may push ahead, break Imperial lines, and start taking their systems. We must be prepared for anything."
-{}-
The two ships clinging together in space made an unlikely pair. One was a rugged light freighter, its ovoid gray hull worn by decades of flight. The other was a scarlet armored Sigma-class shuttle renowned for use by Roan Fel's Imperial Knights. They were joined by ventral airlocks and drifted belly-to-belly through the void, millions of kilometers from any star system.
Nat Skywalker had made it a point to travel to the rendezvous in the most unremarkable ship he had available, but his counterpart had no such qualms about announcing his identity. Nat supposed it was understandable. The desolate corner of space through which they drifted was technically behind Imperial lines, though there wasn't a star destroyer for dozens of parsecs.
The Imperial Knight who came through the airlock into the hold of Nat's ship still kept a powerful athletic build, even though time had turned the black in his beard to gray and was doing the same to the rest of hair. Nat couldn't brag about keeping his youthful appearance either, but on his rare meetings with Treis Sinde his mind always jerked back twenty-eight years ago, to when they'd first met. They'd been mere teenagers, apprentice Jedi and apprentice Imperial Knight, thrown together for the liberation of Hapes. Nat and Treis had killed a Sith Lord together, and while their sparse meetings since had never solidified into friendship, their early experience had bound them with a mutual respect. There wasn't much of that between Jedi and Imperials nowadays.
Nat greeted Treis with a firm handshake and ushered him into the freighter's lounge. Two glasses and a bottle of Johrian brandy were waiting. Nat poured some, and though the two men didn't toast, the clink of glasses and first mouthful of burning ale helped defuse the tension.
"As lovely as I remember," Treis whistled as he set the glass down.
"Glad I could jog your memory." Nat dropped into one cushioned seat. Treis took the other. "Well. How is the empress?"
"Recovering from her injuries," Treis said dryly.
"Good to know. How's the new Mandalore?"
Treis raised a grey brow but said nothing. Instead he took the bottle of brandy by the neck and poured himself another mouthful. He swallowed, scowled for the sting, and said, "You get right to the point."
"I figured that's why you called for the meeting." It was only the third time they'd rendezvoused since the war began. The first had come just two weeks after Ossus. The second had come after Admiral Lekhwash stopped the Imps' major push at Corulag. Aside from Nat and Treis, the only people who knew about these meetings were Kol Skywalker and Roan Fel.
"What happened at Botajef… was unexpected," Treis said.
Nat frowned. "What do you mean? You're saying you didn't buy off those Mandos and have them withdraw?"
"Not directly. The Emperor was caught totally off-guard when it happened."
According to Sinde, Roan Fel had also been caught-off guard by his own moff council and then his own allies. The Force told him that Treis believed that; even if it was true it gave Nat no solace. It only supported Kol's theory that there was some sinister hand behind all of this.
"So what did happen at Botajef?" asked Nat.
"Exactly what you heard. Chernan Ordo was killed. Yaga Auchs, one of his chief lieutenants, took over mid-battle."
"Strange lieutenant if he doesn't honor his predecessor's commitments." Treis grunted agreement. "Was Yaga Auchs bought off?"
"Shortly after the battle, one of our deputy intelligence directors claimed credit for Auchs withdrawal."
"A deputy intel director? Can I get a name?"
"Moff Nyna Calixte."
Nat frowned. He'd never heard of her before, not that he could recall, though he'd never followed Bastion politics too closely. Still, it tugged on memory, like he should have known it for some reason. "What did this moff say exactly? Did she pay Auchs with withdraw? Did she pay him to off his boss too?"
"That's unclear."
"Your boss is the damned emperor. Can't he get the truth from Moff- what was it?"
"Calixte. She says she approached him right before the battle with an offer of payment, if he removed his troops from Botajef. She says she left the specifics purposely vague."
"And are you going to offer more credits to get the Mandos on your side?"
Treis shook his head. "Relying on mercenaries wouldn't be good for our morale. You never know when they'll be bought out by the other side."
"Well. I can't argue there." Nat took the bottle and poured a little more brandy, but didn't drink. "So you think something's up with Calixte."
"Some of her activities have been… suspicious. We've been investigating her quietly, and we'll investigate this."
"But you want Jedi help?"
"The Jedi have connections on Mandalore. Don't you?" Treis took a sip, but his eyes held Nat's over the rim of his glass.
Nat hesitated to reply. Treis knew about Marin; she'd donned scarlet beskar for the liberation of Hapes. She'd been Marin Fel then, still a Jedi, and she'd tried very hard for three decades to separate that life from Marin Solo's. Nat reached tentatively through the Force; he felt curiosity from Treis, even suspicion, but not certainty.
"I think what we can do there is limited," Nat said truthfully. Even if Marin did agree to scope things on Mandalore- and he knew she wouldn't- the Skirata family was no friend of Yaga Auchs.
"Anything you can do would be extremely helpful," Treis pressed. "The emperor is willing to work directly with the Jedi on this."
"Directly?"
"And quietly."
"I can make quiet inquiries. But I wouldn't get your hopes up."
"Very well. I understand." Treis's said, a touch bitter.
"Is there anything else we can help with?"
"That depends. Have you made any progress finding out who really despoiled those worlds?"
"I don't think so."
"And your Vong shapers haven't come up with a way to undo the damage."
"It's rather hard when all those worlds joined the Empire."
"Stang it, Skywalker, what you have been doing the past year? Not front-line duty, not you."
Building a hidden temple, but he wasn't telling an Imperial that. "I've been doing my part."
"I guess I'll take your word for that." Treis downed the last of his brandy and set the cup down noisily on the table.
"I'm sorry if you've come all this way for nothing," Nat said.
Treis looked at his glass, as though wishing there was more, but didn't reach for the bottle. "This war is going to drag on, you know. If the Alliance does push into our systems, it's all the more reason for us to keep fighting. And if the Alliance thinks they have the upper hand, they won't sue for peace either."
"I know."
"The only way this war ends is by uncovering the reason it started it the first place. The Emperor is doing everything in his power to find out."
Treis wasn't sure he agreed with that, but he said, "So are the Jedi."
He saw disbelief mirrored on Treis' face. The Imperial Knight pushed up from the table and said, "Until later, Skywalker."
Nat got up and saw him to the airlock. They parted without a handshake. Once his ship detached from the Imperial shuttle he went to the cockpit and watched the scarlet ship wink into hyperspace, leaving Nat alone in the void.
He walked back to the hold, where a little bit of Johrian brandy waited in his glass. He picked it up and finished in one gulp.
He wanted to trust Treis, to work closely with him and Roan Fel to end this conflict. He knew Kol wanted it even more. Yet it was precisely because of those high stakes that they couldn't share secrets except in small doses. Paranoia and suspicion had widened the gap between Force-users, and Nat sometimes wondered if that, too, hadn't been a goal of the Ossus Project's unseen saboteurs.
He thought back to Marin, who'd walked away. He'd been perplexed and disappointed all those years ago, but he understood in time. Being a Jedi carried heavy responsibilities; shouldering a legendary name and the blood of Anakin Skywalker could feel downright crushing. Kol had adjusted to the weight easily at first, but since the Ossus Project's failure it had been grinding him as well.
Sometimes Nat envied Marin for the strength to leave. Sometimes he'd expressed to Droo his desire to do just that: marry her, move off Ossus, sever ties with the Jedi, live a normal life. But as a Jedi and a Skywalker there was always responsibilities, and even if he shirked under their weight Nat knew he'd feel a coward if he ran.
He sighed, walked back to the cockpit, and plotted a course back to Ossus. He was a Jedi and a Skywalker yet, and that meant there was so much left to do.