Tempered Mettle echoed with the calming hum of her hyperdrive as Mara exited the quarters she shared with Luke. He was already awake, of course; Luke's sleeping patterns reflected many years waking to calibrate moisture vaporators before dawn. She reached out with the Force, extending her consciousness until she found him. He was still weary after Vjun, but it was more mental than physical and the way his spirit brightened when he felt her touch was more than enough to make her smile.
She wished, some mornings, that Luke was not an early riser. The experience of having a body next to hers while she slept was a novel one—and an uneasy novelty, at first. Over the months since they had embarked on their romantic experiment it had gradually transformed from novelty to normal, and rapidly from normal to longed-for comfort.
Mara shook her head with annoyance. If she was being so sentimental, she thought, she clearly needed a harsh blast of morning caf to get her edge back.
As she entered the ship's galley and lounge she realized the hyperspace hum was not the only sound she was hearing. Their guest—Tionne, she called herself—was sitting perched on the arm of the most comfortable chair in the lounge, thrumming on her massive club of an instrument, trying to duplicate the hum of Tempered Mettle's engines.
Tionne looked human, but she had two characteristics that set her apart. Her silver hair could be accomplished artificially, but bore none of the signs of artificial dye; her eyes were a pale, whitish-grey. The combination gave her a somewhat ethereal appearance, and contrasted noticeably with tanned skin—likely earned exploring harsh Outer Rim worlds.
The minstrel stopped her strumming and offered Mara a shy smile. "Hi there," she said with a wave. "We didn't really get to say hello last night, I'm Tionne." She gestured around herself lightly before strumming a few new chords. "I heard this beautiful lady is all yours?"
"Mara," said Mara with a curt nod. "And if you mean the ship, then yes." She strode purposefully across the room to the very, very expensive caf maker Luke had purchased for her on the day they'd chosen to celebrate as her lifeday.
Luke had insisted they pick one, Mara had frustratedly retorted "fine, it's today," and to her astonishment he managed to get her a gift, take her to dinner, and get them tickets to a performance of the Coruscant Symphony all in the next six hours. It had been a night to remember.
She wondered how many favors he'd blithely burned through to make her smile.
"Mara," mused Tionne. "It's a good name for lyrics." Tionne tilted her head to the side, gazing past Mara rather than at her, repeating Mara's name a few times, trying different intonations.
She was harmless, Mara decided. Mildly unnerving, but harmless.
Tionne strummed on her instrument some more as Mara poured her caf. "The Inquisitors caught me on Exis Station," Tionne explained, playing a few more notes. Mara was impressed by her obvious skill—and by the double-viol's rather impressive range. "They destroyed the station afterwards, the nerfs," Tionne sighed, "but at least we recovered the Jedi box thing."
"Holocron," Mara said between sips of caf, idly wondering where Luke was and if he had made breakfast or if she should dip into her supply of ration bars—
"That's what Kam said," Tionne agreed absently. "What rhymes with holocron…"
Mara was just about to go for her ration bars when Luke and Kam walked in, followed by Artoo. "Good morning, Mara," said Luke. "Take a seat, I'll make something simple for breakfast."
She considered objecting that a ration bar would be fine and decided not to. Luke would insist, and she could feel the melancholy still clinging to him after the battles on Vjun. Mara, for her part, had no doubt that each and every one of the deaths had been absolutely necessary. Luke, being Luke, would never be convinced of that.
Besides, she thought fondly, he practically glows in the galley when he cooks, it's all "Aunt Beru sliced this that way," or "Uncle Owen refused to boil vegetables, says it's a pointless waste of water." It will make him feel better.
Tionne hopped down off the arm of her chair. "Have you figured out how to make the holocron talk again?" she asked curiously, taking a seat at the galley's center table. As she sat, Luke cooked up some eggs and toast using the kitchen equipment. It wasn't fancy by any means, but as the scents of cooking food filled the galley, Mara had to admit that waiting for a real meal was better than ration bars.
Kam placed the holocron in the center of the table. It gleamed a dull sapphire, inner light undulating. "I can feel it in the Force," Kam said. "But so far it hasn't responded to me."
"That's odd," Tionne said. She sat down at the circular table across from Kam, reaching out to pluck the holocron from where it rested. "It was pretty chatty with me. Just started glowing and then—" she waved her hand "—talking." She peered at it intently, but nothing happened. A frown grew on her face and creased her brow. "I think it was glowing brighter when I found it," she said with a somberness that was somehow at odds with her demeanor otherwise. "I hope the Imps didn't break it."
"I don't think they broke it," said Luke confidently. He placed a plate of eggs in front of each of them, then put one down for himself; the scent of spices made Mara's stomach growl, and Luke's cocky grin was a sure sign he hadn't missed it.
Mara rolled her eyes and took a bite. Luke wasn't up to Han's standards as a cook, but he was certainly better than she was—though that wasn't saying much.
"Why not?" Kam asked, taking the holocron back from Tionne and returning it to the center of the table.
"Because I can still feel it in the Force," Luke said seriously as he sat down. "Just like you can." He leaned forward, his gaze intent on the object. "I think we should all concentrate on it," he said after a long moment. "Like you're trying to establish telepathic communication with someone nearby. Focus on it like it was a sentient mind and just… say hello."
Kam leaned in. Mara and Tionne did not.
"You too, Tionne," Luke encouraged. "It responded to you before, you said it did—maybe it will again."
"I'm no Jedi," Tionne said skeptically. "Maybe I should sing to it instead."
Luke laughed, and Mara noted the way Kam's lips twitched—it was rare to see the big Jedi smile, but that was not the first time she had seen him smile since Tionne had come on board.
"Concentrate on it and sing in your head," Luke suggested, also smiling, though that was not so unusual. "Pretend it can hear your thoughts. Entice it as you would an audience."
"Hopefully it won't wake up and demand its credits back," Tionne muttered. "It wouldn't be the first time." But she did as bidden.
Luke's familiar blue eyes moved from Tionne to Mara. He arched an eyebrow, silently inviting her to participate. She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not a Jedi," she pointed out.
"Neither is Tionne," Luke replied. "And we both know that of the four of us, you have the most natural talent for telepathy."
Mara scowled at him stubbornly. If she started getting involved in these little seances, before too long she'd be participating in other Jedi rituals. One step would lead to another, and then another, and before she knew it she'd be a Jedi in all but name, having made a commitment to the nascent Order that she still wasn't sure she was ready for. If she chose to become a Jedi—if, not when, if—it would be a decision she made, of her own volition, for the right reasons. Not because she slipped into it when she wasn't paying attention, not because she cared about Luke.
But he was right. She did have the most natural talent for telepathy. And he was smiling that damned smile, the one that annoyed her and made her want to kiss it off his Farmboy face. It didn't help that she was pretty sure he could pick up at least the spirit of her thoughts, feel her annoyance with this entire exercise, and know she didn't really want to participate.
It also didn't help that if she refused, it would just disappoint him. He hoped she would help. He hoped. If she chose not to, he wouldn't be angry, he wouldn't stop… loving… her.
She sighed heavily. But he hoped, and there was nothing in the galaxy more dangerous than Luke Skywalker's hope.
The entire mental debate had taken less than five seconds.
"Point," she relented. She leaned in, concentrating on the holocron, opening the corner of her mind that she allowed the foreign to touch.
She heard an awkward Hello from Kam as the Jedi reached out to the device.
Tionne was into the third verse of some Jedi song about someone named Nomi Sunrider; Mara shut her back out.
From Luke, there were no words, but a sensation of welcome, like he was inviting someone into his home. But Tempered Mettle was her home, and with the casual ease that had inexplicably come into existence somewhere between Myrkr and here, her mind slid against Luke's, adding her own confirmation of the offer. Yes, she thought, confirming Luke's wordless message. You are welcome here.
The holocron's dull blue became bright. They all pulled back in surprise as the cube's inner light suddenly swelled, becoming momentarily painful to look at, and then above the device a hologram—if it could be called a hologram, for it was more realistic and lifelike than any hologram that Mara had ever seen before—gradually consolidated into the image of an alien from a species that Mara did not recognize. It was from an insectoid species, covered with constantly shifting chitinous plates; the creature's face was rounded with a long, elongated snout which provided nothing that a human could recognize as an expression. It was distinctly masculine in appearance, so Mara assumed he was male, and had two large, surprisingly expressive compound eyes.
"Greetings, Jedi," he said. "I am one of the guardians of this holocron."
"Greetings," replied Luke, his eyes practically glowing with the exultation of victory. He bowed his head. "I am Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker." He introduced each of the others. "What does it mean to be a guardian?"
The holocron spirit bowed its head, which made its large hunched back even more prominent. "A Jedi can put a small piece of their spirit in a holocron, imbuing it with some of their wisdom. I, Jedi Master Vodo Siosk-Baas, was among the first to do so with this holocron. Many others after me did so as well. Together, we are the twenty guardians."
"I see," Luke said. Mara had to admit she understood his excitement. A find like this was extraordinary—and was everything that Luke had spent the years since Endor searching for. A true mentor—not a living mentor, perhaps, but a mentor nonetheless—to help guide the Order, to teach him how to teach others. A sudden weight seemed to lift off Luke's shoulders, as if—
"I am afraid that if this holocron has been found, it brings ill tidings," said Vodo-Siosk Baas. "We have been dormant for thousands of years, destined to be found only when the time is right and our wisdom is most needed."
"Yes. Much has happened," Luke agreed heavily. He took a deep breath, and Mara could feel him steeling himself to tell the holocron the bad news. That the Jedi Order had been nearly destroyed, and was reduced to two—
"Yes," Vodo-Siosk Baas said seriously. "I must tell you of the Great Sith War that occurred four thousand years ago."
Luke stopped, confused. Kam looked equally so. Tionne did not. "I know about that," she offered cheerfully. "That was during Nomi Sunrider's time."
"That song you were singing in your head?" Mara asked in surprise.
Tionne nodded.
"That war was caused by a student of mine, Exar Kun, who found hidden teachings of the ancient Sith," said Baas. "He imitated their ways and used them to form his own philosophy of the Jedi Code, a distortion of all we know to be true and right. With this knowledge, Exar Kun established a vast and powerful brotherhood and claimed the title Dark Lord of the Sith."
That made all of them freeze. A chill ran down Mara's spine, thinking of that title, and how Palpatine had deployed its dread glory so magnificently.
"I am afraid he is not dead," said Vodo-Siosk Baas, and if they had been frozen before, they were positively statuesque now, their whole bodies turned to stone with surprise and apprehension. "Not in the manner intended for all living beings in the Force. And if he is not stopped, the harm he could bring is incalculable."
Mara had a wide vocabulary of profanity obtained from some truly varied experiences in a lifetime of covert service. She spoke numerous languages and was moderately proficient in several others.
In a colorful diatribe she ran the length and breadth of the Outer Rim's Trade tongues and did not repeat herself once.
Baas remained motionless himself, fuzzing in and out of focus. Kam swallowed, but said nothing. Luke looked very scandalized, and Mara caught the brief impression of an equally scandalized middle aged woman who could only be Aunt Beru.
Tionne tipped her an approving nod and strummed along.
"—Sithpawn!" Mara finished, irate. As Luke watched with real concern, Mara slowly sank back into her chair, suddenly exhausted. She rubbed her temple. "We just finished dealing with one Dark Jedi. Now, what, we're dealing with a Sith ghost? Can't they just stay dead?"
Luke couldn't blame her. He felt much the same.
Vodo-Siosk Baas slowly shook his holographic head, his exoskeleton shivering as if he were still a living creature. "It is difficult to explain what he is now," the long-dead Jedi Master said.
The holocron shimmered, and Vodo-Siosk Baas vanished. A new Jedi—another Master from those ancient times, Luke guessed, appeared in his place. A human or near-human woman, she was aged, with greying rusty brown hair and blue eyes, and spoke as if carrying the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. "At the end of the war, we tracked him to a temple he had constructed in his own honor. An entire army of Jedi Knights—every Knight the galaxy had—came together to end the era of Exar Kun." She looked away briefly, swallowing hard. "He had slain or corrupted so much of our order, including his own master, Vodo-Siosk Baas," she said somberly. "Our ships filled the sky above his temple, but when we arrived to fight his armies and destroy him once and for all… we found the land around the temple afire for a thousand kilometers in every direction, and when the fire was out Exar Kun was nowhere to be found. There was nothing left."
Tionne was staring at the figure, eyes wide, for once not gently plucking at the strings of her double-viol. "Master Sunrider?" she asked in astonishment.
The hologram nodded and offered Tionne a small smile. "Though my deeds are somewhat exaggerated in your ballad." She looked at Luke, Kam, and Mara in turn. "Exar Kun's body was never found and, between then and when this holocron was hidden by the Order, he never re-emerged."
"He's never spoken of as dead. Only vanished," confirmed Tionne. "But no one has seen him since, at least not in any of the records or songs I've seen and heard. He's infamous and every tale he features in shows a terminal inability to keep a low profile. An ego, a desire to be noticed, to corrupt and cause pain to Jedi. If he had returned, it would have been noticed."
"What makes you sure he's still alive?" Mara asked the holocron stiffly. "Or between life and death?"
Jedi Master Nomi Sunrider smiled, then vanished. In her place was once again Vodo-Siosk Baas. "Exar Kun murdered me," the fallen Jedi Master said. The insectoid trembled—in sorrow, in anger, Luke could not tell—then bowed his head and closed his compound eyes. "I failed him, as only a Master can fail," Baas admitted. "But the bond between Master and Apprentice is not so easily broken." One of his tentacle-like hands touched his carapace. "This holocron contains some of the spirit of Vodo-Siosk Baas. I can still feel that my Apprentice lives. As if at the bottom of the deepest ocean, or buried in the heart of a gas giant, my student lives. Powerful, arrogant, broken and consumed by the power of the Dark Side… but not dead. Not truly."
"Why now?" Mara demanded. "Why is this being told to us now? It's been thousands of years—" she paused, looking to Tionne for confirmation; Tionne nodded "—thousands of years since this Exar Kun terrorized the galaxy. You've had this knowledge all along! Why wasn't this dealt with a thousand years ago, or two thousand, when there were still hundreds of Jedi there to fight him?"
In response, the holocron produced a third figure. This new figure was insectoid, as Vodo-Siosk Baas had been, but of a clearly different species—one Luke recognized. The new Jedi Master was a Gand: they had a pair of bulbous compound eyes and chitinous exoskeleton like Baas, but was short of stature and had hands with three powerful fingers and a mandibled beak (a feature that Gand almost always covered with a breathing mask when among humans). "I am Zuudnan Vaclya, Findsman and Jedi Master," he said. "I was the last Jedi to possess this holocron before now." His mandibles chittered. "It is a particular skill of the Findsmen to know the when. The vital moment." The Gand offered a very human-like shrug. "The when is now."
"You hid the holocron away," Tionne said with wonderment. "You hid it away on Exis Station, and then abandoned it, lost for eons. You hid it away in the hopes that it would be found when it was needed."
"Not in the hope," Zuudnan Vaclya said with a small shake of his head. "For a Jedi, finding the right place is not so very difficult." The Gand's compound eyes gazed at Luke, as if those words were particularly meant for him, but Luke had no idea what he meant. Whatever the Gand's intent, he went on. "The when is now, and the people are you." He gestured expansively at all of them. "The Jedi of the Order of today."
Tionne looked behind her, then turned back with a look of confusion. "You mean them—" she pointed at the other three people at the table "—right?"
"Not all of us accept that title," Mara interrupted, her voice grating. "If the when is now, and the who is us, then where is the where?"
It was Nomi Sunrider who answered. "A jungle moon of a distant, forgotten gas giant," she said, "called Yavin."
The members of the newly appointed Jedi Order of today stared at her.
Luke was the one who spoke, and his words lacked all the studied gravity he had previously used to converse with the shades of the bygone Masters.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Tempered Mettle's navicomputer and Artoo were working to calculate the fastest hyperspace route to Yavin 4 while Luke and Mara tried to sleep. In Mara's—their—quarters, she was currently pacing like a caged nexu.
She hadn't objected when Luke said they had to go to Yavin. She knew as well as he did the dangers of a master of the Dark Side—she might be the only person alive to know those dangers even better than he did. But she wasn't happy about it.
"You notice they gave us when, where, and who," Mara said, stopping to look at him. "But not how."
"I did notice. I'm not sure they know," Luke replied with a sigh. He hung his lightsaber up in Mara's wall armory, next to her own. "Kam and Tionne are going to keep talking with them a while longer. There are seventeen other guardians of that holocron we haven't met yet—maybe one of them knows something."
"I doubt it," Mara said sourly. "If they did know how to defeat Exar Kun, they would have done it already, not waited until now and given the task to us." She shook her head. "Something has clearly changed to bring this to a head at this moment."
"Maybe it was the destruction of the Death Star," Luke said somberly. "Maybe the deaths of all of those people offered Exar Kun a source of power. Or maybe the Rebellion disturbed him while we were in the Massassi ruins. Or maybe—"
"Stop looking for reasons to blame yourself," Mara cut him off. She put both her hands on her hips. "This isn't your fault."
"I wasn't—" Luke objected, but his voice trailed away. Ever since the echo of Nomi Sunrider had said Yavin he had been looking for a reason to blame himself. Those deaths, all those deaths, still haunted his dreams some nights. Mara knew it, too—they had discussed them more than once.
"You were," she said curtly.
He nodded, no longer denying it. "I was," he agreed. "And you're right. It's not my fault. But I've got to deal with it all the same."
"We've got to deal with it, Farmboy. I'm not a Jedi, I don't care what they called me, but I'm also not letting you waltz into a Sith Lord's vacation home alone. We've already done that once this week and we scraped by through luck and the skin of our teeth. Sure we've got a prisoner, a holocron, and whatever else I pried out of ISB's computers, but I don't think we'll be that lucky again."
He considered arguing with her. Considered bringing up the fact that the holocron had named them all Jedi. Not just him and Kam, but Mara and Tionne too. But Mara had made it clear that she was not about to accept the title, and he and all the spirits of bygone Jedi would just have to lump it.
He didn't consider it for long. Instead, he just smiled and moved towards her. "I feel better having you with us any way I can get you. Besides, you're our ride."
"I'm billing the Order for fuel. I know you're good for it." The words were stiff at first, but they faded to a murmur as he slowly moved into proximity.
"I'd like to think my cooking has paid for some of our passage, Captain Jade."
Mara sounded just a bit breathless. "I have some ideas about how you can work off the rest of it. As I recall, there's something you have to show me."
He smiled and ducked his head bashfully. She melted.
Uncle Owen's speeder raced along the ridge, heading back towards the Lars family farm. In the passenger seat, Luke leaned against the door, his brow damp with sweat. He was exhausted. One of the main vaporators on the ridge had broken down the afternoon before, and he'd started work on it just after supper and had only finished it after the suns had set. Owen had picked him up and given him a packed meal from Aunt Beru, which he'd devoured in short order, and now he was tired.
He watched the sky. One in particular was completely stationary, a perfectly still point all year long. That star was the end of the Dragon's tail, and Luke had years before learned to use it for navigation. Now, Owen was keeping it forward, following it towards home.
"Why is that star always still, while all the others move?" Luke asked.
"There are always some constants in the universe," Owen said. "And the Dragon's tail is one of them."
That wasn't much of an answer. Luke wondered if that star had its own planets, and if those planets were better to live on than Tatooine. He figured they had to be.
"You can always count on the Dragon," Owen was saying. "They're ferocious and protective. They're inexorable beasts, unstoppable. The only way to stop a Dragon is to cheat. Once they've made up their mind to do something, you can be sure it'll get done."
Luke sighed. He'd just look up why the star appeared stationary on the local HoloNet the next time he went to Mos Espa. The library there had a link which could on a good day access the Arkanis sector hub.
He blinked, then rubbed his eyes. But that didn't change anything—the Dragon's tail was growing dimmer. He looked quickly at the stars around it, but they remained just as bright. He watched it longer, willing his brain to concentrate, his eyes to function properly, but it was still dimming… and as he watched, the star vanished.
"Uncle Owen!" he turned—
In the chair beside him was a skeleton, charred beyond recognition, smoldering in the speeder's bucket seat.
Luke sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. Beside him there was a flurry of motion and the long form of Mara's blaster pistol whipped up and pointed directly at the door to their cabin. "What is it?!" she gasped, adrenaline burning through her veins and sleep instantly banished.
He panted for breath, putting the horrifying image out of his head. He turned away, bowed over; Mara glanced at him, both hands on her blaster, still pointing the weapon at the door. "Nightmare," he explained sorrowfully, blood pounding in his chest and skull. He willed himself to calm, drawing on the Force to help the process.
He found no calm. Instead, sudden realization and horror flooded him. Mara felt it, her hands lifting the blaster back up—she had started to relax her guard. "What is it?" she asked again, sounding more worried now.
"Leia's in trouble," he said, sure of it. "We have to get to Coruscant. Now."
Instead of asking questions, Mara was out of bed and gone within seconds. Less than a minute later, Tempered Mettle dropped out of hyperspace and spun on a different vector. Shortly after, they jumped again.
This time, the ship's engines didn't have the calm hum of cruising speed, but the stressed whine of a hyperdrive being pushed beyond its redlines.
Brakiss performed his morning exercise routine, getting ready for what promised to be a busy day. He worked his way through the typical stretches before taking advantage of the Molalla Astor's extensive suite of exercise equipment. By the time he was done, his exercise clothes were damp with sweat and he was breathing heavily.
Exar Kun's voice was quiet. He could feel the Sith's concentration, focused and distant. Often, Exar Kun's consciousness hid alongside Brakiss' just behind his eyes, a second mind with a second voice, carrying ancient wisdom and power. But other times Exar Kun felt more distant, his voice quieter, as if he had moved elsewhere in the universe. This was one of those times.
Is something wrong? He merely needed to let the thought form in his mind fully, words springing into existence, and Exar Kun would hear.
Slowly, over minutes, Exar Kun's presence pooled against his once again. The Sith amulet that Brakiss wore warmed to the touch, not quite burning against the skin of Brakiss' chest, but not far from it either.
I felt something through the Force, Exar Kun replied, in his archaic accent. The Jedi prepare to move against us.
"What?" Brakiss said out loud. "How can they know… how can they know anything?"
They are Jedi, Exar Kun replied quietly, as if that was explanation enough. Do not worry. I will make sure that they meet us in the place of my greatest power.
"We are going to kill the Jedi here on Coruscant," Brakiss said, perhaps brashly.
You are not ready to fight a Jedi, the voice chastised him firmly. You do not have a lightsaber and we will have to acquire one before you are ready for that. Here on Coruscant you are not targeting Jedi, you are targeting children with Jedi potential.
"I know," Brakiss repeated, annoyed.
The voice grew cold. The difference is important. Do not overestimate what you can do without my help and do not think yourself invincible. The amulet that Brakiss wore against his chest pulsed, as if a reminder of its presence, seeming to grow hot and then cool once more. When we become stronger we will be unstoppable, but my powers are yet limited and you are still an apprentice.
Brakiss' expression tightened, his annoyance growing. "If you teach me more, I would be able to do more even without your help."
Mastery is not achieved in a day, no matter the teacher, Exar Kun hissed in his ear contemptuously.
It took twenty minutes for Brakiss to finish his preparation for the morning session. He dressed in casual, unremarkable civilian clothing, choosing to go entirely unarmed. Exiting the Molalla Astor for the rest of the morning's plans would be easier without weapons in hand, and he could always procure weapons from the supplies Carias had provided.
In the conference lounge that the Molalla Astor provided for the Imperial contingent, he found Colonel Carias and Grand Moff Kaine conferring quietly. He entered, allowing Exar Kun to diminish their reaction to his presence. Surely Kaine ought to be more alarmed than he was by the young Inquisitor in their presence, given the sensitivity of the matters at hand, but he barely seemed to register Brakiss' presence. And Carias, Brakiss' co-conspirator, didn't even spare him a glance.
"—clear that you won't be permitted in the meeting today," Kaine was saying. "They've discovered your personnel file, know you are ISB, and are unhappy about it."
Carias turned away, his expression tight. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ardus. I know we're friends, but I can't help but think you should have brought someone else for the negotiations. Admiral Deshorn, or a representative of Dynamic Automata. Or Governor Dekeet. Someone without my ISB ties."
"I have ISB ties, too," Kaine pointed out with a shake of his head. "And I don't trust any of them." He placed his hand on Carias' back. "Besides, this works out just fine. You withdraw from the meeting as a concession to their sensibilities, and I can explain to the New Republic that your presence here proves that ISB won't undermine the negotiations. We can commit to keeping ISB in line and even using it to prevent the other factions back home from becoming a problem."
In Brakiss' mind, Exar Kun's focus was obvious. He could almost feel the Sith spirit concentrating on Kaine, putting all the intensity of his attention on the Grand Moff. Reaching out through the Force, from beyond even the veil of death itself, to feed Kaine's ego and confidence. To blind him to even the suspicion that he might be so, so very wrong about the man he was talking to.
Carias played his part. The ISB Colonel's genial smile appeared utterly genuine and slightly rueful. "You always did think three steps ahead, Ardus." Carias nodded. "You're right of course." The ISB man turned away, moving to stand near the caf machine, starting to make two cups. "Do you think that the New Republic's Provisional Council will give you what you're asking for?"
"I think we have a better chance of getting it from the Provisional Council than we would from the full Senate," Kaine replied. "Which is the other reason to do this now, before they finalize their Grand Concordat."
The ISB Colonel poured two cups of caf. As he turned back towards Kaine, his eyes focused on Brakiss, as if noticing him for the first time. Then he looked away, striding towards Kaine with a cup in each hand.
"Thank you," Kaine said, taking the one Carias offered. The Grand Moff shook his head ruefully. "With the Provisional Council, we must persuade five or six of nine people that peace is in their interest, despite our requests. Once the Senate is reformed, we would have to persuade hundreds or thousands of people, all of whom bear a grudge against the Empire."
"It can't work," Carias said, watching Kaine take a sip of his caf. "The New Republic can't possibly stand. It will just be the Old Republic all over again, tottering under its own bloated weight."
Kaine did not seem convinced this was right. In fact, Brakiss thought, the tiny shake of the Grand Moff's head betrayed an even deeper disagreement. But Kaine did not vocalize that disagreement. "We'll see," Kaine said instead. "If it does collapse, we'll be in a perfect position to exercise greater influence."
"Yes, of course," Carias said, almost a whisper.
Sorrow poured off him in waves, but with it was patriotism and determination. The fervent desire to do what needed to be done. And, most of all, the knowledge that the course was now set and could not be changed.
It was an odd mix of emotions, Brakiss thought.
They waited until Kaine departed, then Carias turned to Brakiss. "We'll need to escape from here again," he said. "I have some additional equipment to help us make our escape this time."
It won't be a problem, whispered Exar Kun.
"It won't be a problem," echoed Brakiss.
"Good." Carias' eyes were hard. "Today is the day the Empire finally asserts itself. Today is the day we begin our restoration to power."
Deluded fool, Exar Kun derided the older man silently. He sees only what is in front of his face. A sense of smug satisfaction gleamed in the Force, and Exar Kun shared it with Brakiss, letting them revel in it together. The day the restoration began was when you found me among the ghosts of the Massassi, my young apprentice. This man, his Empire… neither of them matters. All that does matter is you, me, and the Jedi. Everything else is but a means to an end.
Brakiss pictured himself seated on a throne like Palpatine's, clad in the darkest black robes, Ottegan silk to contrast with his pale face, and he smiled.
"Are we ready?" asked Mon Mothma quietly. Her voice was its usual preternatural calm, reflecting her almost impossibly-even temper.
Leia had seen Mon Mothma aggravated, annoyed, even angry. But the New Republic's Chief of State did not often let those emotions touch her, and when they did it was always very well-regulated. The HoloNet caricatures of Mon Mothma portrayed her as an emotionless automaton: heartless or disconnected from reality, with a perpetually blank expression.
The artists who drew those caricatures did not have Leia's advantages. She could feel Mon Mothma's turmoil, her uncertainty, and her deep and abiding passions. Mon Mothma was the farthest thing from an automaton, but she also had spent the last thirty years making herself into the perfect rival for Palpatine. Trustworthy, rational, patient, calm, forgiving, steadfast.
And absolutely ruthless, when she had to be.
"Yes," Leia replied.
Behind them, Iella Wessiri was dressed in one of Winter's handmaiden's outfits: elegant, serviceable, not flashy. She was distinctly uncomfortable, but when she noticed Leia's regard she confirmed her readiness. "I don't know how Winter moves in this, but I'm ready."
"Good," Leia said. "Then we just need to wait until the meeting—
Iella's comlink chirped and she withdrew it from her pocket. "Wessiri."
"I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but Councilor Bel Iblis is here and would like to speak to the negotiating team before the negotiations begin."
Leia frowned, sharing a look with Mon Mothma.
Iella lifted her eyebrows at them. "Do I let him in?"
Mon Mothma nodded. "Go ahead." Her expression had tightened, Leia noticed—almost imperceptibly, but for it to reach Mon Mothma's usual statue-like visage, it had to mean something.
"Send him in," Iella said into her comlink.
The doors slid open and Bel Iblis walked in. He looked distinctly nervous, dressed… Leia paused, frowning. Bel Iblis was dressed in his General's uniform, not his civilian outfit. Why would he…?
"Councilor Bel Iblis," Mon Mothma said. She had not missed Bel Iblis' wardrobe choice either. "Or should I call you General?"
Bel Iblis took a deep breath. He glanced at Leia only briefly, but he approached Mon Mothma. "Chief of State… Mon." His shift from formal to informal caught Mon Mothma off guard; Leia saw the sudden flicker of surprise in her expression, mirrored by the flicker in her emotions. "I want your permission to replace you in the meeting today."
Leia tensed—
"Why?"
Mon Mothma's response was not what Leia expected. But, in hindsight she wasn't sure what she had expected. She knew Mon Mothma and Bel Iblis had a lot of history, and that their history had included a multiplicity of political differences that had finally led to a final split, one which had lasted a decade before Bel Iblis had returned to the fold. Bel Iblis had stood distant, expecting—fearing—that Mon Mothma would win the civil war only to make herself Empress, and that distrust still cut Mon Mothma deeply.
They had gotten past it. Bel Iblis' embarrassment and Mon Mothma's indignation were both subsumed under their shared desire to defeat the Empire and create a lasting new Republic, but that was not the same as saying it had been forgotten.
"Two reasons." Garm folded his arms behind his back, as if presenting an official report to a superior officer. "First, we're intending to press the Empire for concessions, while also offering some. Having a military officer in the room will send the message that we won't back down if these negotiations are unsuccessful. We will press the campaign to its conclusion, and we will win." He looked at Leia. "I know you have your own military history, Leia, and can make that case as well as anyone, but I think we should drive it home as deeply as possible—and I think that Kaine may hear it more clearly coming from me, especially given the misogyny inherent in the Imperial hierarchy."
Leia pressed her lips together with annoyance, but Garm was right.
"And the second reason?"
Garm turned back to Mon Mothma, his expression serious. "You are the heart of the New Republic, Mon," he admitted awkwardly. "I'm just an ornery Corellian cuss. You leading our negotiations is giving them too much, too soon. Make them earn the privilege of your company. If we send you in there now, after letting Leia lead the negotiations alone—and after they breached protocol by bringing ISB into the room—we might be sending a message that is too conciliatory."
"You know the point here is to make peace?" Mon Mothma asked, her gaze intense.
"Yes," Garm said firmly. "Peace, if they will accept it. War, if they will not." He smiled thinly. "Apathy, never."
Mon Mothma watched him for a long time. Seconds stretched as she examined him with such intensity that Leia would have squirmed, in Garm's place. "Alright," she said finally. "Your logic is sound." She stepped forward and put an arm on his shoulder. "The Republic is in your hands now, Garm," she said quietly. "As it always has been."
Garm then bowed his head. "I'm sorry we were at odds for as long as we were. And I won't let you down, Mon. I promise."
Author's Notes
Monkey D. Conan - thank you for the comment! Here's more, hope you liked it just as much! Next week we keep escalating...
stars90 and Guest - Tionne is a riot. My co-author did the first draft of the "we meet Tionne in the prison" section, and he gave her some real chaotic energy, and it fits her so well. I read a whole lot preparing to use her here: KJA's Firestorm, where she was first introduced, the Jedi Academy Trilogy of course, and even some JJK and the comic Leviathan. Since she's in a bigger role here we get to focus on her more, and I think that helps us bring out her personality.