Rain was showering down around Azera. It was cold enough to draw what little warmth there was from her body. Soaking through the fabric of her uniform. Matting her hair against her shoulders. The fabric tied around her face felt like ice.

She had to keep it on though. Getting used to wearing a visor had been one of her first tasks on joining the Republic military. The visor itself was long gone, destroyed along with the Dodonna's Guidance. And she needed a bandage around the shrapnel gash in the side of her head anyway. No matter how much the chill of soaked cloth burned into her vacant eye sockets.

The lack of real pain from the wound was her biggest concern. There was no way for her to tell if anything had gone through the skull or not. She couldn't risk staying at the escape pod when it was a literal beacon for Sith and Imperial troopers to come looking for her. But now, aimlessly wandering in what she assumed was the direction of the Jedi base on Sarkas was feeling like a very bad decision.

Somewhere along the way she stopped dead in her tracks. The cold feeling permeating her body shifted. No longer the cold of the rain, but that of a dark presence as well.

With little time to hide herself, she dived for the nearest covering of shrubbery and mossy logs. In those last few moments, she shifted her blaster up from the holster to a position right in front of her face, finger remaining at the ready. It was far from perfect cover, but it was all she could manage before forcing herself to go completely motionless.

After a few minutes, she glimpsed the Sith on approach at last, at least as much as her Miraluka vision allowed.

The Sith herself was a Twi'lek. Rich blue skin, covered over by an intricate outfit that varied between dark grey and black leather.

Short black boots tracked with mud, rain, and a few splatters of blood. Matching leggings that went up to the grey, asymmetric tunic, tightly fitted. The right shoulder ended halfway to the elbow, with a black cuff on that matching wrist. On the left, a disconnected sleeve of white, that went from near to the shoulder all the way to a fingerless glove.

The rather plain eyepatch going across the right side of her face looked out of place after all that. There was no scarring around the area to indicate a blaster or lightsaber wound. It was the single flaw in her seemingly pristine form.

"I know you're here! I saw the pod come down! I know a woman's fear! Come crawling to my feet and I might decide to be nice for a change!"

Azera remained still out of crippling fear. The power emanating from the Sith in front of her was terrifyingly strong. Cold rage, wrapped within a lack of care for anything but herself. Such things were being blatantly broadcast as sensations. She wanted everyone around to know her stance.

After a minute of waiting, Darth Furia drew her twin lightsabers. The blades they cast on activation were a sickly shade of red, a little lighter than those used by most of the others of her kind. But still so very menacing.

"You're wasting my time! I've got plenty of others I could be having fun with! You get thirty seconds to throw yourself at my mercy!"

There was no way forward. The reputation that Furia had built around herself made it all too clear what would happen. She always found her target, and her concept of mercy involved a great deal of degradation as a member of her prisoner harem.

"Twenty seconds!"

With every bit of stealth she could manage, Azera started tilting the blaster around. Bringing the barrel closer to Furia's direction. One chance, one shot. She just needed one tiny sliver of hope that she could find a clean hit to take.

"Ten seconds!"

Furia lifted her hands out to her sides, lightsabers resting on her palms. They both lifted up into the air above, then began spinning around her hands. The twin hum of her favoured method of execution as she began looking around the clearing.

Azera put her head down, muffling her breathing with the moss as she finally released her lungs. She didn't actually need to look down the iron sights to make her shot after all.

What she did need was a momentary distraction at exactly the right time. Though she had never felt any ambition in regards to developing use of the Force beyond sight, the situation demanded she try anyway.

"Time's up!"

At that exact moment, a few bushes in the direction opposite from Azera ruffled around.

It was all Furia needed to launch her attack. Both lightsabers span towards that location in a flurry of hisses and sizzles as they cut through the wet foliage.

As soon as she saw them leave her hands, Azera pulled her trigger.

The shot rang out through the clearing, lined dead on for the area between Furia's shoulderblades. It found its mark right as Furia span around in surprise at the attack, striking her in the chest to devastating effect.

Both her lightsabers dropped out of their spin, deactivating before they landed in the brush below.

In what was most likely a stupid spur-of-the-moment decision, Azera scrambled up to a kneeling position behind the logs hiding her, readying another shot on Furia.

For the longest moment, Tegama'Arani had been in such utter shock at the hole left in her chest. The strength of the dark side had kept her from keeling over initially. But, by the time she had put a hand up to that entry wound, seen the blood on her fingers, she was weakening. Her last view was that of her attacker before falling back into the damp brush as well.

Azera remained in her position, the blaster trained on Furia's body. Her hand was shaking quite a bit at that moment however. She didn't need to get closer to watch the life ebb away from the woman she had just shot. There was a stark bitterness to the notion that someone as powerful as the Shadow Hand was still so very mortal. One shot had just brought down the worst enemy of the Republic at that time.


Azera woke from her meditation with a sharp gasp for air.

Nightmare, or abstract vision, it had all felt extremely vivid. And unlike dreams, it wasn't fading into the realm of forgetting anytime soon.

She might have welcomed something new to think about for a day at least, had she not been preparing for Bastila's arrival. There was already far too much for her to unpack on that front.

Vague imagery involving reversed roles with Maarani wasn't going to make for good conversation with any of them.


Maarani's first reaction on waking from her restless slumber was to rather abruptly flail around on the bed. Letting her concentration down in order to sleep left her mind more open to those around. It was much harder to ignore the phantom sensation she wasn't alone because of it.

And with how fast things had been going as of late, she now wasn't certain that her memories of the previous night were ever going to be correct..

She didn't like the idea of Cecile watching her while she slept. But having her, or at least another combat-ready droid, somewhere in the vicinity to keep watch everywhere else was slowly gathering appeal. Less than a full detail of guards, but more than having just her lightsaber and Azera's within reach.

Thinking about all that in her tired state did at least ease her initial paranoia. A brief glance to what little light was allowed through the closed blinds told her that dawn had arrived. Roughly an hour before the ships from Dantooine would be setting down at the spaceport.

Enough time to make herself halfway presentable and arrive on time, but likely not enough to also talk with Azera at length. After the rather sour note they had left each other on the day before, she didn't feel comfortable with making any prelude to her arrival.


Visas and Utan were waiting at the safety zone when Maarani finally arrived at the designated bay. On the part of the former, it was probably a deliberate move to reveal her return so casually. Something that had become clear about her since the first meeting on Ketaris was her tendency to take everything casually.

While the shuttlepod was coming into land, she decided to prod about that particular point in time herself.

"So, did Bastila know all along? Vaner apparently didn't when he told me I had to go see 'The Watcher'."

The persistent smile on Visas' shifted into a light grin, her head tilting about lightly.

"This moment we're about to experience wouldn't be nearly as amusing if she did. Bastila doesn't like anyone keeping secrets from her, especially when the reasons are valid."

Utan just closed his eyes with a mild head shake. "Sometimes, secrets should remain hidden. If not at least handled with care."

"And it has been, Utan. But now the secret has served its purpose. What follows is no longer of lasting consequence."

Maarani remained quiet. Now wasn't the time to bring up the other secret still hanging over her head.

She was far too busy contemplating everything that occurred since the previous time she had met Bastila. Back when she had only just learned Azera's name, some of the truth about Dana's past. And apparently when Izan ran into Chaser of all people on that exact day.

When things were supposedly more straightforward. And the worst thing she had done was hold her former girlfriend hostage as a deterrent to attack.

The shuttle ramp began to lower down at last, going through the usual process of venting clouds of mist that Maarani never really knew the purpose of. When that was over, it was Bastila and Vaner who led the way down.

Bastila nearly stopped halfway when she caught sight of Visas. By the time she reached the ground, she had gone through her routine of quiet blustering.

"I suppose you think this is funny? Where's Sereti? And I thought Carth would be here on that note."

"Doing what she was always better suited for. Maintaining order, and letting others lead. Admiral Onasi is still in classified meetings, I'm sure he'd rather be here."

After a rather indiscrete eye roll, Bastila motioned for the other Jedi in that first group to continue on ahead of them. There were a number of hospitals that they had to distribute amongst after all.

In that time, Vaner had moved past towards Maarani, offering his hand to her.

"I'm glad to see you alive, and intact, Tegama. The last we heard was of a Twi'lek in the middle of a droid attack on Dalchon."

Maarani had taken his hand firmly, then shrugged off his concern with a witty smile.

"Sure, whenever there's a generic Twi'lek in the vicinity of disruptive nonsense going on in the galaxy, it has to be me." She released his hand following that. "I just wish that was sarcastic. There's just way too much that happened to talk about it all here. But yes, I am fine."

Bastila side-eyed her very briefly, but chose to remain quiet on that particular point after some consideration. They had a lot to do after all. "Juhani will be handling matters involving our people as long as we're here. I've asked some of the Knights to come and fill in for extra security. How did things pan out with the Luka Sene?"

"Poorly, but they are at least still willing to talk." Visas made a casual, but deliberate hand gesture towards Maarani before she could say anything in protest. Just one small request for her silence. "Their escapade has demonstrated that Azera is at more risk of being extracted, than at attempting escape herself. I choose to see their failed intervention as a benefit."

The reaction she got from everyone else didn't faze her in the slightest. From her view, they had yet to consider what she had been thinking of all along. It would occur to them soon enough.

Leaving that aside for a moment longer, Bastila finally looked down to Utan. "I'm sorry it took this long to meet again, Master Utan. I'd like to talk when things eventually slow down. Juhani and the others already know to expect your arrival."

"If it would mean a chance to begin mending old wounds between the Jedi sects, Master Shan."

"Perhaps. Maybe I was getting too complacent on Dantooine."

Bastila finally looked to Maarani directly. There was no mistaking the darker-leaning presence she presented. That she was so open about it was concerning in different ways.

"You truly believe that Azera Vass has changed for the better? That she isn't turning you instead? I never sensed any light within when I fought with her."

Maarani looked between all the others slowly. While Bastila had posed the question, all but Visas were asking it as well.

"I'm not going to waste time when meeting her in person is going to make it clear. She's still Sith, but not the White Terror." She tilted her head and gave a shrug, feeling her sarcasm come back into play. "She's changed all on her own. It's not some crappy story about 'true love redeeming her from the darkness'. No offence, Bastila."

Rather than responding to it in any direct way, Bastila put her hand to her brow in exasperation. "Fine, let's go. I think I'd rather hear it from her now."

As the four departed, Utan moving on to help with overseeing things, the one observing them from across the starport moved back into hiding.

Shortly after, the Zygerrian had returned to where the others waiting. A nearby alcove adjoined to the landing pad they had arrived on that morning. What was supposed to be the start of their impartial visit on behalf of the Empire had been drastically altered since then.

Ashter and K'Srin were both looking over the map surrounding their safehouse when the scout returned. As usual for them, it was Ashter who moved to receive his report.

"What were you able to gather about this Jedi meeting, mm?"

"Bastila Shan and her son are to meet with the prisoner now. Tegama'Arani and Visas Marr are accompanying them. They are bolstering security with Jedi guards at the same time. And, they also confirmed the rumour we heard about the Luka Sene becoming involved."

Under her breath, Ashter swore through gritted teeth. "Just like that, our plans are waylaid. Two completely unknown factors, and either one alone would have put us at an impasse."

She turned back around to look over the holomap again. They had access to a number of contacts from the safehouse, but none of it mattered anymore. Approaching as a neutral party was now out of the question given the two layers of heightened alert. Something that made subterfuge and assault just as impossible to carry out, the latter especially with the few numbers they could safely bring to Coruscant.

"It seems we cannot provide the Grand Moff with first hand information. Second hand will be much harder to acquire as well. And the Twi'lek may now be out of reach."

K'Srin had heard enough to nod in agreement, making little effort to hide his disappointment. "I wish I were more surprised. The Jedi seem to have providence on their side, again and again."

Ashter looked to her uncle for a long moment, then slowly turned her eyes to her bodyguard nearby.

He had chosen a lonely corner to remain in up until that moment. As soon as his master's eyes were set on him however, he straightened right back up in readiness to follow her orders.

"Proceed to the designated contact as planned. We will remain at the safehouse until a new plan is devised, and that will require new sources of information. I need our network in operation as soon as possible."

He nodded in response, making a respectful gesture with his hand over his heart, then moved to leave without a word. Shortly after, he left the area on the speeder they had procured ahead of time. Likely the last thing they would be getting from the Republic for the duration of the operation.

That left Ashter with the other scouts, which she beckoned over to the holomap while altering its target location.

"They will undoubtedly have patrols and anti-surveillance around the compound now. Your new orders are to survey the Senate building. But do not allow yourselves to be spotted. I will need a clean entourage when I make my diplomatic visit tomorrow."

They departed as well soon after, leaving Ashter with K'Srin and the few enforcers they had brought with them.

"Keep our slave on the ship for now, and the Republic out of it. If they try to cause an incident, put it into lockdown. Under no circumstances are you to reciprocate their hostile behaviour. Understood?"

"Yes, my Lady."

Once they began heading back inside the spaceport, she moved to K'Srin's side with a supportive smile. "Revenge is only truly satisfying when it is difficult to attain, no? I will see your blood price paid in full. No matter what it takes."


It was a bit over an hour later when they returned to the Temple. The exchange had gone more or less as expected. Azera and Maarani explaining the loose plan they had for a Sith reformation, as well as some confirmation about the former's change of behaviour and attitude. Something that might not have been possible without Visas there to validate.

On the arrival itself, Visas made a point of departing quickly to resume overseeing things. Anyone could tell that there was a lot yet to be said between Maarani and the two Shans.

"So, I think she's back to blocking out what I say again." Maarani had been feeling tense the whole trip back. What she needed then was a chance to let it unwind safely. "I've already done all the heartache about the whole Azera Vass-Kiarna thing, Bastila. Jayden missed it, and she got to know Azera much better than you knew Kiarna. Just making it clear, I'm not bothered."

"I do wish I could say the same, Tegama. Even after speaking with her."

Maarani tried not to roll her eyes for once in her life. It was a rare occasion on which she actually wanted to avoid coming across as rude.

"I am sorry for what I said before, the redemption thing. But I stand by the rest. I'm not getting swayed by hormones, or any notion of power. We somehow ended up caring about each other, and that's our own business in the end."

Even without the sensitivity to emotion, she could plainly see that something had just started to bother Vaner. Likely something she had just said, but she didn't know for certain.

"What do you think? Honestly? You didn't say much back there."

Vaner shared a brief glance with Bastila before letting out a long sigh. "I've studied as many transmission logs and other broadcasts from Kiarna as the Republic would give me access too. What I saw of Azera just now tells me that she has gone through a fundamental personality shift from the woman she has been for the past decade at least. I want to believe you're right, Tegama. But as important as intent is, it needs action as well."

"She healed several dozen Jedi before we had to get her to safety. Not that it means anything to the Republic." Maarani rolled her eyes before putting her hand to her head. "I know it's not a lot to go on. But we haven't exactly had time to go around building up a new reputation for her. Maybe we should have gone and hit an Imperial base along the way. Something she wouldn't really care about, but the Republic would. She's always been uptight about not giving any of us Imperial secrets."

"I take it she refused any offer to trade those for clemency?"

Maarani gave a rather bitter shrug and shake of her head. "There never was an offer. This is being controlled by the politicians, not the military. They want a big spectacle rather than an easy end to the war. And the Luka Sene probably think they can get her to spill it all after they've cracked her head open anyway."

There was a subtle look of disgust from Bastila after that. Colourful meta aside, she knew well what the procedure involved, and the fact that it was just not medically sound.

"I suppose that is one angle I might be able to work from. Jedi don't condone execution, especially of non-violent prisoners. And surgery that permanently damages the mind is arguably even worse."

She looked to Vaner again, gently placing her hand on his right arm. "I'm not ready to put my full support behind Azera on her own merits. " And then looked back to Maarani again. "But I will push for rehabilitation. Giving the chance to earn forgiveness must always be the Jedi way."

Maarani's smile was small, but so very genuine. All she had really hoped for was just that one bit of support in her favour. Another point against everyone else, and on her side.

Her holocom blared out before she could say more, though in a way it was good timing. "I'll convince her to go along with it, don't worry." She switched the holocom on after that, bringing up the small image of one of the Jedi she recognized from communications.

"Contact for you, Maarani. He didn't divulge his name or intent, just an insistence for privacy and a secure channel. All we could gather is that he called on a low-encryption Republic Intelligence frequency."

Maarani glanced to Bastila and Vaner again. "Fine, I'll be there shortly. Thanks for letting me know. Anything for either Shan while they're here?"

"Yes, actually. Yuthura Ban wishes to speak with them both, in turn. Though she only just sent the request through, less than a minute ago..."

"That's to be expected. Thank you, again."

The holocom went off, and then back into her pocket with a deep sigh from her. "You'd better get over to her now. When she asks to speak with someone, she's being very exact with the timing."

Bastila raised an eyebrow at that. "Punctuality, then?" Her tone shifted when she really took notice of Maarani's reaction. "Oh, I see."

"I haven't talked with her since we got back. I'm the last one to get a summons." Another long sigh followed, that time more of a simple breathing moment to keep her preemptive grief under control. "Make the most of the time you get with her, please. I wasted the chance I got on Akar Kesh, and I'm not sure if I'm ever going to stop regretting that."

Her smile returned in a more sarcastic form after that. "And on that depressing note. I guess there's no point trying to delay whatever new crap Intelligence is trying to pull with me. Talk later?"

"I think that would be in order, yes. Stay safe, Tegama."

They parted ways at that, Maarani making a quick line to the the communications centre. Repairs had progressed further, which had finally taken some of the traffic out of the main room itself and back to other areas of the Temple. The remaining Jedi there she wasn't all too fussed about being in the company of. More witnesses to whatever Intelligence had to say to her.

"Alright, I'm here. That agent or whatever still on the line? I'll talk to him right here."

"Ready and waiting. Patching through now."

Maarani put her hands to her hips, both out of contempt, and another needed reminder of the lightsabers at hand. Anything she could use to stay in control.

When the hologram came on, it was the figure of an Intelligence agent alright. She didn't recognize him at all however, and even the uniform looked different. Not part of Rako's division by the look of it.

He looked around the immediate area, then back to where Maarani was projected from his perspective. "I thought I asked for privacy."

"This is as private as it gets. I'm not going to have anything I say or do twisted around over holocall. What do you want?"

"Fiery as ever I see. I'll get to the point then."

Maarani shot a glare so dark at him that it made some of the nearby Jedi physically shaken.

"Your droid friend, Cecile? She caused a messy scene yesterday. I got her to a precinct cell before things escalated, but she's not going anywhere until we've talked things out. That's all I'm sharing over a holocall."

After a mere few seconds of pondering, Maarani tightened her lips with a very blunt shake of her head. "No. You don't get to hold her hostage. Not after what she's been through, and what she did for me."

"I'm not the hostage taker. She destroyed at least two other droids in her little rampage. You're both damned lucky she hasn't attacked any organic beings yet. Right now, I'm the only one keeping her from the melting pot."

There was a longer period of silence from Maarani. At first, she was just standing there, doing nothing at all. Even her mind was blank, lost for thought and impulse alike. Staring at the hologram before her.

Her hand went up slowly, fingers spread, coming to bear on the agent's head from her perspective. Turning slowly. Reaching out across the expanse of Coruscant.

When she saw him tilt his head, groan in discomfort, she smiled.

"I know where to find you. And that you're actually being honest with me, somehow." A flick of her hand pulled her lightsaber up into it with a firm clap, punctuated by her own little head tilt. Mocking his, and setting her point home. "Don't bring anyone with you."

She shut off the transmission with a gesture from her other hand. The lightsaber she lowered only after it was completely off. There wasn't even a flicker of concern for all the attention that had earned her from those in the room. Not even a passing remark as she left.


"Final checks?"

"Scrambler is running. Alignment to concealed frequencies is sound. Ready to open communications."

Ashter turned away from the window she had been gazing out of. It was a particularly dismal view of Coruscant's top-most surface level. The area where the wealth of the spires above the surface began melting down into the slums of the underworld. Somehow, the contrast made it feel all the more unpleasant.

While moving to her seat in front of the holocom, she gestured to her bodyguard an instruction on where to stand. She didn't need to watch him after that, settling into a suitable position of calm and control where she was.

The holocom soon brought up the three familiar images of Morgak, Rak'Sakar and Sloane. By all appearances, their new paradigm had solidified considerably.

"Grand Moff. I trust you are receiving this adequately. We have had to make alternate arrangements since our arrival."

"Yes, reports of an incident did leak to us in the past few hours. What is the current status?"

"Kiarna is completely inaccessible. The Republic did allow us to land, but there are now far too many Jedi guarding your Sith to even attempt a mere visit. I believe now is the time to discuss alternatives you may have in mind."

"We have doubled down on closing any security and strategic risks she presents. But, we are still in no position to mount a rescue. And there is little to be done about countering the physical threat she poses, if she were to defect to the Republic."

"I disagree."

The attention shifted from Morgak to Sloane. Compared to their previous meeting in that manner, she was definitely more composed. And unlike Rak'Sakar, she clearly had something in mind.

"I've been considering certain factors of late. Your visit to Coruscant was two-fold, with access to the Twi'lek being the other half. I am starting to consider that her fate might have a greater impact on Kiarna's than I first assumed."

That drew Ashter's attention enough for her to sit forward and gesture for more.

"I assumed that certain forces at work would protect Kiarna from direct interference, as they have protected Tegama in the past. But, this incident with the Luka Sene paints a different story. Tegama is fearful, and lashing out. She may be on her own now. Far more vulnerable to a straightforward attack. The right kind of attack, at the right moment, could be what drives Kiarna away from the Republic again."

"You can call it what it is, Lady Sloane. Assassination."

Ashter looked directly at K'Srin across the room. He had been staying out of view so far, something that now proved wise as his disappointment became clear.

Keeping that hidden from the Imperials allowed her to maintain a clear position for the negotiations to come. "Unfortunately, there is only one among my group that is both capable and prepared for an assassination. One will not be enough when current events are of such great magnitude. And we do not have time to prepare a properly crafted plan."

Rak'Sakar began interacting with his control system at that moment. "Then you shall receive."

After a long minute, a third Sith appeared to the left of the other two, transmitting from a different ship entirely.

White hair in a flop to the right, a bare chest marked by many tattoos, and a particularly strong sense of smugness about him throughout.

Ashter had yet to meet this particular Sith, but already she was intrigued by what she quickly assumed was the Echani sorcerer.

"Lord Jarrik. Our Zygerrian ally is in a predicament on Coruscant. There is much to be done before the end of the next day. Tell her of what you can provide to this endeavour."

Jarrik made a glance at Sloane; the last time they had properly spoken was when discussing Masaka, before turning to Ashter. The smug smile returned shortly after, followed with a mild bow.

"My people are of a kind that devote themselves to exacting specialities. I don't mean the race of course, merely those that are granted the honour of my training. There are a number on Coruscant at this very moment. Once activated, they are required to retreat to Imperial territory as soon as their task is fulfilled, so I would suggest you be very discerning with your needs."

For once, Ashter felt real tension in her mind. The Empire had agents ready on Coruscant all along, and chose to call in a favour instead. The pressure had been placed on her by circumstance, and now she needed to make a crucial decision.

"Two agents is all I shall require. I had my scouts map the exterior of the Senate building in anticipation of an escape plan. But,it appears we are no longer looking to prepare an extraction, rather an infiltration. I need two that can cause a perfect storm inside the building itself, and slip away past the Coruscant guard when done."

Jarrik tilted his head in a way that caused his cascade of white hair to spread across his shoulder. "Define perfect storm. An explosion? A power failure?"

It was a large gamble. Just like so many other moments in her long climb to that esteemed position in the Zygerrian hierarchy. When Ashter leaned forward, it was with every bit of confidence she could put behind something she had no guarantee of whatsoever.

"An attempt to kill the Supreme Chancellor."

All four of the Imperials had varying degrees of apprehension to that. Jarrik's was the strongest, and for obvious reasons. On the other end was Sloane, who smiled as she came to realize the intent first among them.

"The trial."

"Precisely, Lady Sloane. It is the only point at which both Tegama and Kiarna will be in close proximity. To try and capture the former on her own would simply bring the Jedi down on us. And to wait until after would be pointless if they rush to an execution, leaving Kiarna locked down under maximum guard. For her to make her own escape, Tegama must die at the trial. And to ensure success, I can think of no better distraction than the Chancellor himself."

"Two it is, then." Despite his clear apprehension, Jarrik remained diplomatic in the face of the reasoning presented. "One to attack the Chancellor and cause a distraction. The other will take out the Twi'lek."

"Your agents will both attack the Chancellor, Lord Jarrik. Arranged from different angles to portray the intent of maximum effectiveness. As I said, I have one of my own. He will be the one to end Tegama's life."

She motioned her hand toward her bodyguard, directing him to step out from his isolated position. Once he was in position, standing beside her at the ready, she moved to stand as well.

"My loyal servant and protector, Wuthbrand. Fluent in over twenty languages, a highly qualified pilot. Mechanic, navigator, enforcer." Her hand slid onto his shoulder in an openly sultry way. "And, most importantly, one of Zygerria's own best snipers."

Wuthbrand gave a silent nod of respect. By his oath to Ashter, he was not to speak unless directed to, by her alone.

"Just a few months ago, he earned the title of elite for his twenty fifth clean kill. I don't doubt the skill of your agents, Lord Jarrik. But I would see that a Zygerrian vendetta is satisfied by one of our own. You understand, of course?"

"I do. The Empire has invested interest in keeping Chancellor Ollur where he is. My agents are trained to make a convincing fake attack in the event we needed such an occurrence, whatever the circumstance. I'll ensure they follow your plan to the letter."

"Very good. As for the plan itself, I will require any intel that is available on the Senate building, especially where the trial will be held. Even if it is decades out of date. We will resume contact in twelve standard Coruscant hours to receive it."

Morgak made a quick text transmission to Ziost on his end. "I've just asked Keeper to begin compiling everything she can on the building. The information should be ready by then. Arranged as a holo-layout if possible. Be wary, High Representative."

"My thanks to you, Grand Moff. Lords, Lady."

She closed the holocom with a smile. It vanished at the moment she knew that the transmission had stopped, broken by an exasperated sigh and a hand to her face.

"I am truly sorry, uncle. It seems we were being used more than I anticipated."

"You handled it masterfully, Ashter." K'Srin made his way over, coming to sit down beside her after some thought. "Seeing this plan come to fruition will still ensure she dies. It may not be with my hands wrapped around her throat, but it will be a definitive end to his memory. I can be content with this."

Ashter managed something of a smile at that. "I will try to appreciate your considerate notion. Regardless, I am still not pleased that we have been thrust into the middle of this power play, rather than being allowed to work on the outside as intended. We will need to make preparations for a very fast departure as soon as the job is done."

She tilted back around to where Wulfbrand was waiting. "Return to our vessel. I will be making arrangements via hologram to have it moved once you arrive. Take a few of the others with you to ensure that the Republic does not try anything."

While he went to collect the people needed for that, Ashter looked back to the holocom on the table one more time.

"We shall call it even, Grand Moff Morgak."


Maarani was on her own when she approached the precinct. Jayden and Izan had both offered to cancel plans and come escort her as soon as Dana had warned them. Who had in turn already given up on trying to come along herself after enough arguing.

She didn't care about being seen as stubborn. Cecile had been her sole responsibility from the beginning. The kind of responsibility had changed since then, but it still remained hers alone.

The precinct itself was situated near, but not directly on one of the many trenches spanning Coruscant. Most likely just within the longest acceptable walking distance for any prisoner escort to a waiting transport. Probably enough time for that escort to get jumped, or anyone going to visit for that matter.

At the first moment she sensed a human looking in her direction, both hands went to her lightsabers.

That didn't change after she got in through the door. There were maybe five officers in the building, and one other person further inside that she could sense. Likely the agent she had come to meet.

Expectedly, the attention of the room was soon on her. Everyone except the one behind a rather grimy sheet of blasterproof glass was looking at her lightsabers with apprehension.

"I told him to come alone. And don't get smart with me, I'm not in the mood." All the uniforms she could see seemed to indicate they were tied to the precinct itself. Grunge level enforcers, certainly not the sort that were paid enough to make trouble with a Jedi.

After a lot of staring in silence, she lifted her hands away from the lightsabers. "Fine. Like I said, not in the mood."

She could feel the tension lowering down as she made her way over to the desk. Seeing that the build-up wasn't limited to the glass made her rethink putting her hands on the counter at all.

"Got a weapon locker? Private one preferably."

The attendant motioned his head to Maarani's right while reaching for a button. Further into the building came a moderate buzz, then the clunk of a magnetic seal being released.

Maarani left the desk with a nod and made her way over. It was the armoury door itself that had opened up. Probably the only room with an actual security door to it. One of the smaller weapon lockers holding some long range stun rifles had been unlocked, with some convenient sized shelves waiting for the lightsabers.

She was far more reluctant to hand them over compared to her visits to Azera. There was a stark difference between the grunge and the Republic's high security detention facility in regards to recruitment quality, as well as tech in general. The notion of someone getting their hands on both blades was sickening.

Movement of the other from the interrogation hall prompted her to set the lightsabers away. The locker was closed by the time he arrived at the doorway.

"I'm not apologizing for earlier. Rako tried to gun me and Smirged down on Ketaris." She kept her arms folded up close while turning to face the agent at last. "Not taking any chances with Intelligence after that."

He narrowed his eyes just a little, having stayed at the doorway. For the time being, he was more than content with keeping his distance.

"There's more to this than you might realize, Maarani. Rako was taking orders only from Intelligence when he was overseeing the mission on Mirial, but not when he went after Smirged. And he's not the only agent who's gone rogue since the leak. Things are different now."

"And I still don't care. I came to make sure Cecile is safe. Spare me the sob story so we can get this over with."

The agent lifted his hands in defeat, stepping away from the door. Once well clear, he gestured to the corridor further down. "Daniels, by the way. I'm really not looking for a fight here, Maarani. Once you've heard the truth, and you've given confirmation you'll accept responsibility for CC-13 as her caretaker going forward, this will be over. You won't have to hear from me again."

Maarani made her way out slowly, eyeing up Daniels with a glare on her way past. The corridor itself wasn't too long. The interrogation room sat a bit before the corner, with the viewing room just before. A very standard layout, designed to work with minimal computer power for security reasons. Given that the viewing room had been left open, it was clear where he intended her to go first.

With the room darkened, she had a clear view through the window of Cecile at last. Sitting at the metal table, near motionless. In an odd way, she looked a bit like when she had been first found, strips and chunks of synthflesh stuck to her metal face while she stared into nothing. Only now, the chunks were fresh.

She was just sitting there, motionless. Whatever was going on inside her processors was beyond what Maarani could ever get a read on.

"What happened?"

"Droid effect." Daniels closed the door to the viewing room, then moved past Maarani to keep from being between her and the way out. "I pulled scans from the droid spa she visited right before the attack, and what could be salvaged from the greeter she destroyed. A sequence of stimuli caused her to become self-determinant. She developed free will."

Maarani tensed up for several seconds, looking at Cecile with a lot more intent. Then, the moment passed, leaving her to sink back into quiet contempt. After their discussion prior to reaching Akar Kesh, she had genuinely hoped for Cecile to reach that stage of development. Something she could be proud of her for. Instead, they were stuck in a dingy police cell for it.

"She wanted to come here, find out what was missing from her memory banks. I wanted her to make choices for herself." She chewed at her lip firmly. The problem with trying to claim responsibility, was that it would just be taking away the achievement Cecile had made for herself. A choice without consequence and responsibility didn't mean much at all.

"When I was captured by the Sith, she decided entirely on her own to start mapping out the ship so the others would know where to go when they came back to rescue me. Izan and I were unconscious before we even knew the Sith were coming. She made that decision on her own. That's where I decided to set her free."

Daniels tilted his head, lips upturned in a thoughtful way. "Interesting. We assumed she'd turn violent once her base programming resurfaced. The incident at the droid spa seemed to confirm it, until now."

Maarani took a long breath to keep her head clear. "Dana told me she's an assassin droid beneath the childcare exterior. I thought she was gone for good when Sloane had her memory wiped. Didn't know about her redundant memory core until later. But she's never been violent towards anyone who wasn't openly attacking her first."

"Well, either that changed, or the spa owners need to reconsider the behaviour of their greeters. CC-13 is the only one who knows the entirety of what happened now."

Daniels brought up a datapad after that, drawing out the relevant files to read from. "DCE-06. Deep Cover Elimination, the sixth and final iteration in a failed line of assassin droids. Zero One was commissioned nearly a hundred years ago, and Zero Six two decades later. Cecile has been active for close to eighty years now."

"Eighty years?" Maarani looked right back to Cecile at that.. "I found her down below, clamped so she couldn't do anything but scream at people. And she was conscious for eighty years of that?"

"Problematic, yes. But not insanity inducing as it would be for any organic mind. Droids are far better at comprehending the passage of time."

He returned to reading from the provided files. "When Czerka's Hunter-Killer Zero One ended up causing a droid rebellion, there was a large gap of assassin-type droids for several decades. BlasTech stepped in fifteen years later with the first DCE to try and fill that gap. Rather than hitman tactics, they wanted droids that could stand up to all but complete strip-down examinations. They'd blend in as various personal assistants, standing beside the target at all times, if not literally. Always ready to execute when they receive the right trigger."

"Sounds situational."

"That's why the line ended so quickly. DCE-06 is both the last model and actual droid they ever made in that line. Four of her predecessors failed, either by random accidents or the target dying by other means. DCE-04 was the only success, but it self-destructed soon after. Three years of deployment, only to have no reuse by the end. And no-one even remembers the results, outside of filed reports from the time. Ultimately inconsequential."

"And what about Cecile? She must've been caught to end up with the clamp on her head. Why didn't she self-destruct?"

"Well, that's less clear cut. It's why I've been keeping an eye out for her. We keep search flags up for certain droid cores, among other things. Her number was called up by a mechanic on Ord Lagaran some months ago."

It took Maarani a little while to recall when that was. Right before the Mirial files had been blown out into public access. Cecile had left the group to get her combat module installed. Probably redundant in retrospect.

"When we found her, and brought her back to the Temple for repairs, she kept calling me 'Mistress'. She was calling out to her."

"The files I have on her deployment, and eventual capture, and don't go into detail. Apparently she was intended to assassinate a trade broker working for the Hutts. She was with his family for nearly seven years, before the birth of the second child. He died in a hyperspace accident just six months after she was placed with them however, and apparently failed to obey recall orders following that. The agents at the time guessed that she had become a write-off to BlasTech after all the other failures and wasn't worth physically extracting."

He took a few long breaths. The field report given was blunt, and eighty years ago probably didn't seem out of the ordinary. Now, knowing the state of the droid in front of him, Daniels had a much harder time stomaching it.

"An informant inside BlasTech leaked files on the DCE to Republic Intelligence at the time. They identified DCE-06 as appearing as CC-13, and who she was assigned to kill originally. When they trailed down to the apartment, they went for a firm approach. All the report says is that CC-13 tried to flee, and after an ion grenade failed to stop her, was subsequently gunned down."

Maarani's fingers tightened on her jacket. "She tried to flee. Did she kill anyone before they gunned her down?"

"No. She kept running after the blast. And she wasn't armed when they brought her in."

"Of course, since droids don't have rights. Only reason to bring them in intact is to save on repair time later." It was taking a lot of effort for Maarani to keep from erupting into far more hostile feelings. The sort that she definitely wouldn't be able to keep a lid on once they started.

"There was a routine examination done after the capture, once they put the clamp on to stall out all of the DCE safeguards. By then, BlasTech had completely shut down the line, so she was sent to be scrapped instead. No reason to study a discontinued model. Eighty years later, we only just find out that the scrapping confirmation was faked all along. Like I said, so much of this is known only by CC-13 now."

Daniels set the datapad down and looked to Maarani more directly. Waiting for her proper attention patiently. "I just want to see this file closed and locked down for good. Help me close the DCE case, and this is the last any one of us should be hearing of each other. I'll resolve whatever needs to be done in regards to yesterday's incident."

Maarani took her time to mull it over. It sounded too easy on the one hand. But then he really didn't have to do much at all to get to that point with her. Two holocalls and a short hovercar trip from the Republic Intelligence building on his end. It wasn't a large expenditure, even if it really was just to close one file. If there was an ulterior motive, she couldn't comprehend it.

"Cameras and other recorders off. I'll give you all the details I get, but there's some things that I need to say to her alone."

"Fine by me. I'll be out in the main room signing incident forms and the like. You'll both walk out within the hour."

She sighed rather belatedly while taking another look at Cecile, then started making her way over to the door. In spite of her insistence, she actually didn't know what she'd say to Cecile at all. But she needed something regardless. A spacer to help work up towards digging into the depths of her past.

Soon enough, she'd be going through the exact same thing herself.

Even when Maarani finally entered the interrogation room, she couldn't see any movement from Cecile. Never before had she been so completely inactive, without actually being switched off. Even when clamped, there was a semblance of activity from her.

"Cecile? You still with me?"

A brief flicker of the eyes was all she got.

It was enough at least. Maarani twisted around to sit up on the table, just off to Cecile's right. "Azera's doing okay right now. We told Bastila about her plans, some back and forth, going over what we already did with the others. I think she's just trying not to think about what's going to happen in the coming days."

Her forced enthusiasm died off quicker than ever. "Cecile, I can't keep this up for long. Just tell me you're still in there. That your circuits haven't imploded, and that it's not a matter of time before we realize. I'm not leaving you behind."

To her relief, mostly at being spared more of her own awkward rambling, she finally got a reaction out of the droid.

Cecile started to turn her head, then gradually sat up. Her four hands shifted from their postures, the lower pair situated in front of her face in a look of thought while the upper pair had been resting flat on the table. They both ended up moving to lightly grasp at the edge of the table itself. A mimicry of humanoid behaviour, most likely passively observed at some point or another.

"To contemplate the nature of existence, is a challenge."

"Welcome to being alive. That's something every organic being is going to realize at some point. Mine was nearly nine years ago."

Cecile's eyes flickered again. "Little wonder you were so emotionally damaged."

"Yeah, that and having an ancient Sith of depression stuck in my head. But hey, now that I'm back in touch with the Force, it's all sorted out for me. Jedi get to rejoin the great cosmic energy, shed all this stupid bodily matter." She tugged at her jacket to make the point. "Because we're 'luminous beings' or some shit. And everyone who isn't in touch with the Force, tough luck I guess."

She pursed her lips, regretting her very depressing choice of words. "Something you should accept about philosophy right now. There is no 'correct' answer. There's right and wrong, but in philosophy, that's not facts. It's concepts. So don't burn out your processors trying to decide if they add up as zero or one, because they won't."

The silence from Cecile afterwards made Maarani sigh at herself. Dumping conceptuals on her probably wasn't the right move at that stage. She did need to get back to the resolution at hand after all.

"I spoke with the agent. He says we're free to go once we help him close the DCE case for good. Now either he's hiding something that I haven't considered yet, or we lucked out and he's just an obsessive-compulsive spy with time to waste."

"Since when has our luck ever been that kind?"

"Fair. Though let's be honest, as awful as the worst has been, I'm willing to admit we've had some good strokes too. I really can't think of what he'd want out of this, so it might actually be the simple answer for once. If you're comfortable with the arrangement, I think going along with it is the right move."

Cecile's eyes flickered yet again. "I haven't yet reached the notion of comfort in that context, Maarani. What does he require?"

"In short, whatever happened after you were captured that ended up with you not being scrapped. You don't have to dig up anything before that. I heard enough from the report."

The light went out of Cecile's eyes for much longer that time. No longer just the effect of short-circuiting in her cranial wiring. Deliberate emulation.

"I was… an observer."


The blaster shot that sent her to the ground finished ringing out. Below her destroyed knee hinges, the carpet was sizzling from the heated metal fragments sprayed into it.

Back inside the apartment, she could hear the children calling out for her, while their mother yelled at them.

"Get the restraining bolt on ASAP. Should hold it until we get the rest locked down."

Two of the agents rolled CC-13 onto her back, both resting a knee on her chassis to minimize resistance. They both quickly got to work soldering the cruel bolt to her data port.

Every hiss of the solder being applied meant another function vanishing from her processing core. Bit by bit, hardwire connections overriding any autonomy she had.

"Bolt secure. Give it maybe an hour before redundant systems bypass."

"The clamp is being prepared. Let's get moving before it recovers."

I didn't understand. I had done nothing wrong. I didn't have the ability to conceptualize what betrayal was. That years of diligent service to the Mistress meant nothing to her whatsoever.

Under an hour later, the clamp was being soldered to her head. What functions had escaped the inhibition of the bolt were now gone. All autonomy removed. Any functionality left could only be triggered by an outside source. She was completely trapped inside herself.

"Lockdown is complete. Redundancy systems have been shut down. Ready for memory core download."

A data processing droid hovered over to the table upon which CC-13 had been spread. Quite literally, as her chassis had been pulled off to arrange out her circuitry and hardware for easier access.

"Interface with the DCE core here. Copy everything, we won't be leaving it intact for a second pass later on."

The data droid extended a long tube containing the necessary cables. A three-prong clamp latched onto the core itself, lining up for a data spike to extend into the core's port and begin the download.

"Little point in trying to wipe the memory when we're done. It'll be scrap soon anyway. The recall function can't get around that."

I have begun to wonder if there is an older version of myself still there in the Republic databanks. One that is so devoid of experience. One that never did come to understand.

Three days later, her stripdown examination had been completed. All of her components were crudely shoved back into her chassis for ease of transport to the scrappers. Her limbs were still useless, and the clamp kept her from even shutting off her own sensors.

"Mackie, fill out the rest of the form, and you can have the rest of the night off. I'll be hours doing the decommission on this piece anyway."

She was strapped to a tilted table, kept upright by the metal clamps while a middle aged man worked at her joints. The voice of a younger man rang out an acknowledgement from another room beyond her vision.

The one attending to her did so for several more hours, stopping for a break twice. By the end, all four of her arms and her legs had been restored to functionality. But the clamp remained, and her internal imprisonment continued.

"There we are. Time to test. Lift your lower left arm."

The arm in question nudged against the bracket holding it down.

"Lift your right leg."

As with the arm, her leg pressed against the bracket. The foot itself flexed about shortly after, since it hadn't been bound down.

"Good. Come on, got places to be."

A single switch of a remote hanging from his belt opened up all the clasps, allowing CC-13 to stand up from the table. On his order of course.

"Who'd really throw away a good serving droid like you, eh? Bloody skyscrapers, makes 'em nothing but a bunch of airheads. Follow, and keep up while you're at it."

I wasn't even thinking at that stage. Control was gone, and there was no way of ever regaining it. It wasn't even a matter of biding my time once destruction had been averted.

She arrived in tow at a large plaza, shuffling behind her new 'owner'. To her right was a newly refurbished railway station, part of the network that covered Coruscant's surface levels. To her left was an open-door nightclub, bustling with activity. Its seedy nature meant that the gathering of a trash pile to the right of the doorway was not at all out of place.

"Hmmh, they don't serve droids last I remember. Don't see what they'd actually serve to begin with, or why that somehow means they're not allowed in at all."

At the threshold of the nightclub, the scrapper stopped for thought, then motioned a hand to the trash pile on his right. "Go sit there, not looking for trouble. And don't go anywhere, I'll be coming back out soon."

Following those exact instructions, CC-13 moved over to the trash pile, turned around on the spot, then sat down with her back to the wall. Head tilted upward slightly, staring at the signs set to the building above the railway.

In the direct centre of her vision was the pink neon outline of a busty Twi'lek. Going through a three-frame animation meant to resemble dancing, on repeat.

If I ever caused you offence when we first met, Maarani, I can only apologize. Some things become etched into the memory circuits.

Hours later, her ocular sensors picked up more movement in the area between the station and the club. People in uniforms moving about. A little later, the body of her short-time owner was carried out on a hover stretcher.

"Anybody know who this droid belongs to?"

A short woman approached her, holding a scanner to CC-13's head for a few seconds.

"No ID tagging. Eh, if it's theirs, they'll come looking anyway. Leave it be."

Soon enough, the authorities were gone, and the night continued to draw out. And then the next night, and the night after.

Nights became weeks, and then months, and then years. Dust sometimes obscured her sensors, only to be blasted away later by stray gusts of powerful wind whenever a hovercar flew far too close.

In front of her, more signs appeared, and then disappeared, or changed. The lights grew more intense as new buildings blocked more of the skyline. The only thing to remain completely unchanged was that neon sign, depicting a Twi'lek dancer.

One single constant across nearly eight decades of Coruscant culture. Where everything else evolved or moved on, the notion of sex appeal remained.


By the end, Maarani was dead silent. Her legs and rear had gone cold from sitting on the table for so long, but she had stopped caring long before then. Cecile's vivid, and yet detached description of what had transpired eighty years ago had simply left her lost. Not just for words, but for any thought at all.

"And you eventually ended up below. Right in the path Dana and I were taking to find a grey-market ship that I'd get to fly around in, guarding a Khramboan."

"I believe that should be sufficient for the agent's file. He most likely has the scrapper's name and other details already from the falsified report."

Maarani chewed her lip hard. Thoughts were coming back to her. Most were of the expected anger and bitterness that came with hearing such a story from what she considered to be one of her closest friends. Some of it was also disbelief.

"And you're okay with this? I know droids don't feel emotions the way people do, but don't you have some kind of impulse? How were you able to just sit here and say or do nothing for the past day? You've seen me lose my shit over much smaller things than what you just told me."

"Eighty years, Maarani. The children I once cared and nurtured for have likely died of old age by now. I cannot compute any course of action derived from what I have learned." Her head turned upward towards Maarani, making her stance as clear and simple as possible to her. "No-one involved is around anymore. I will let the past stay where it is."

Maarani rolled her lip along her teeth for a little while. It wasn't an answer she particularly liked. But it was Cecile's decision. And she respected that more than any action taken.

"Alright. The matter is closed, then. I'll go tell him he can close the file, and get you out of here. Just stay put until I get back, please?"

"As you say, Maarani. It would be a trifle annoyance to upset things just as they come to a close."

"Yeah, well. To be honest I wouldn't mind having an excuse to punch someone right about now anyway. Guess I'm settling for a bag back at the Temple." She groaned while sliding herself off the table. Many of her leg muscles felt sore from her prolonged position. "Would you be okay with letting Carmen take another look at you when we get back? Just to make absolutely sure there isn't damage you're not aware of yet."

"I will return to the laboratory as soon as we set down. I have held off my own software maintenance routines long enough."

"Fine by me." Maarani had been rubbing at her sore muscles in the meantime, until she stopped to shoot a suspicious glare at the one-way glass. It was a momentary feeling, and on sensing no-one behind the glass she relaxed again, "I'm getting jumpy in here anyway. See you in a bit."

She made her way out into the hall, closing the door behind her. The last she wanted was to set off a time-delayed alarm by carelessness.

"Daniels? I've got what you need."

There was no answer as she moved up the hallway towards the corner. Odd given the size of the building.

"You can thank the scrapper that was supposed to oversee Cecile's decommission. He faked the whole report."

As soon as she turned the corner, she froze up. There was a splatter of blood across both walls at the next corner. On the floor, someone's arm was just in view from her position. It was possibly still connected to the owner. That was her hope anyway.

"Shit."

She debated going back to get Cecile for a few seconds. Even without weapons, someone who couldn't be cut to pieces was a very safe backup.

The sound of the doors behind her going into hard lockdown made her cringe. She was being watched, and was now trapped in the same general area as the murderer.

"Alright. You've killed people to get to me. Nice to know where I stand."

Her left hand lifted up toward the armoury door. At first it was to try and work it open using the Force, subtly if possible. Drawing closer made her more away of the hard resistance to her efforts, until her fingers were hovering just above a bloody handprint left on the door itself. It had already been locked down as well.

There was deep tension in her breath as she gradually turned her head to look at the main room at last. The sight made harsh shivers run through her body, even down to the tips of her lekku.

Daniels was unquestionably dead, as were all the others. The mess that had been made of each was brutal. Driven by anger. Not the work of a professional killer, but a psychopath. And it wasn't a lightsaber or blaster that had done so. She would've heard as much even through the soundproofing of the interrogation room.

"Azera? Please, of all times, don't give me the silent treatment. Get the prison guards to contact the Jedi and send anyone they can to this precinct. Do whatever it takes."

While relaying that message, she cautiously approached the front desk. More blood had been added to the grime of the window, but even from there she could see that the control board had been blown out. The bulkheads on the front doors had been dropped as well, trapping her in the building completely.

"No way out. Fine, if you don't mind, I'll even the score."

She turned back around towards the armoury, half expecting to come face to face with the murderer as she did so. When that didn't happen, she hurried over to the heavy door and reached her right hand up that time.

"Alright. Nothing to it. Fine motor use of the Force is something that anyone can do. You don't need years of training or whatever. Just make it happen."

Despite her self-assurances, it was far harder than she was counting on to extend her Force grip through the door and into the locker beyond. Finding her lightsaber at all would be difficult, let alone manipulating it into cutting the locker, and later the door, entirely from within.

"Come on. I didn't go to Akar Kesh and have my crystal transmuted by a lightning bolt just to…"

Her voice trailed off as she heard a clinking sound above. Slowly she tilted her eyes upward, only to see a single eye looking back down at her.

It was clinging to the door frame on a set of tiny metal legs. Watching her. And soon scurrying off to her right.

"A cybernetic eye, with legs…"

There was a tense pause. The empty sound of the room began to press in on her, closer and closer. Azera's voice broke through for just a second.

Tee get out-!

A fierce blast of the Force flung Maarani away from the armoury door into the wall opposite it with enough force to crack the aging plaster. The blast turned into a choking grip very quickly, holding her with vicious intent as she struggled for air.

It was soon replaced by a real hand, marked with long scars across the palm from where ice shards had speared through it.

"Found you."

Zimorr cocked his head as his other eye dropped down from above, then proceeded to plant itself back into his left eye socket.

"You really do have her face. Or does she have yours? I never did pay much attention."

He smirked at Maarani's attempts to kick and scratch at him. His right arm remained unfazed, as did the hand he had wrapped around her throat.

"I hear you've been getting a reputation as a Dark Jedi. Come on, make me laugh."

His arm yanked back past his head in a controlled motion. While his fingers left his neck, the Force grip remained, hurling her off the wall and across the room a second after physical contact was broken.

Shortly after, he heard the thump of her landing, then slowly turned around and began to approach once again. "She got into my mind, screwed with my brain. Made it so that I couldn't go near my Azera without going spastic. They called her the False One. I've taken to calling her a cheap sack of-"

He was cut off by Maarani's counter-attack knocking him off his feet.

She had yanked a metal table leg out of its socket, and sprung up with a swing strong enough to rip someone's jaw clean off.

In her seconds of bloodlust, still dazed from the chokehold, she could see the damage wasn't nearly as significant. Zimorr was already getting back to his feet, clutching at the cybernetic clamps that ran under his skin.

The darkness swelled within as she took a step back, readying for a prolonged fight. "I shot the last rapist I met in cold blood. You, I'll beat until my hands shatter."

Zimorr swiped his hand in a sharp arc, throwing Maarani against the wall again with more of a quick strike that time. He spat out a bloodied glob after that, watching her struggle to stand again.

"I said 'make me laugh'. Not spout idiotic lines at me."

"Fuck you."

He rolled his eyes at that, something he rarely felt the compulsion to do as a Miraluka. "I'm not your type. And neither is Azera you blue-"

Maarani came back with several fierce swings. That time she was focused on keeping him upright to ensure every blow landed squarely on the sides of his skull. After the fourth strike, she threw the pipe away and went in with her fists direct to his face.

No holding back. No nagging voice in her head complaining about the morality of giving into her anger. No uncalled for remarks about her excessive force. There was only the primal thrill of attacking her enemy.

For what little it actually accomplished. Not all of his skull had been reinforced, but there was still enough durasteel layered under his skin to keep his face from being mangled too much.

The same couldn't be said for her hands, which were already bleeding at the knuckles.

Somewhere around the twelfth strike, Zimorr lashed back out and grabbed her by the throat yet again. That time it was to throw Maarani to the ground, landing across one of the deceased officers in the process.

"Where's my laugh, Twi'lek? Your futility isn't my kind of humour!"

Maarani swung her fist up yet again, right as her eyes turned to lavender. When her fist connected, it was ablaze with Vahla fire, searing right into flesh and metal alike.

It was the first time he actually cried out in pain, hurriedly trying to snuff out the unnatural fire. Unable to stop Maarani from getting up again to follow through on her last resort.

"Here's a real awul liner for you. This is why they called me Wildfire!"

She pulled her hand back, ready to engulf him in a plume of white fire at the cost of her left hand. In that moment, an acceptable trade-off.

"My my, how wonderfully childish of you."

Maarani twitched as she realized her body was now frozen in place. Zimorr had been frozen as well, and after a closer glance, the fire consuming his face had as well.

A pure white hand reached from her left to touch her chin. Fingers stroking up along her jawline, then back down over her left lekku.

"I thought I felt something stirring here. Do forgive me for not coming sooner."

Since she could no longer turn her head, Maarani had to wait for the woman to step out in front of her. The entirety of her form was a blinding white, save for her lips and eyes. Black to the point where there was no reflection possible from them at all.

She also had Dana's face.

"But I simply do not approve of how you have been using my gift. The petulant outbursts of an angry little child. Suroni has disappointed me greatly in her choice of successor."

Vahl slid her hand back up along Maarani's arm until her fingers entwined with her flaming hand.

"Goodbye, little orphan."

She vanished into the air with sharp suction, drawing the Vahla essence out of Maarani's body as she did so. The lavender irises returned to blue. The white fire fizzled out from both her hand and Zimorr's face.

The burns to herself weren't as bad as when she took on the Luka Sene. And certainly mild compared to what she had done to Zimorr. But the stinging was still more than enough to make her recoil.

Zimorr was far slower to recover, but he was once again standing back up. The damage to his face went beyond the cosmetic level. Sparks were flying off the melted wiring of his cheek, and his right eye that housed the mechanical kit was now inoperable.

"I'm done screwing around."

His left hand lashed forward, ready to crush Maarani into the wall.

That time, she was ready to do the same, her right hand swinging up to project every bit of control she had over the Force at him.

The clash caused them to slide apart at first, scattering debris and bodies to either side, creating a wide channel between them.

Maarani had raw power on her side. The dark side was coursing through both of them in significant amounts. But even with Vahl stripping some of it away, the Lady of Balance had left her far more open to the powers at hand.

Zimorr on the other hand had years of training and focus. While she was blasting the entire area in front of him, his projection was much more narrow, focused on pushing towards a single point.

He was the first to take a step forward.

"Your stance is poor."

Another step forward, his fingers shaking a little.

"Full of rage, and anger. So very like those blasted Sith."

His next step was much slower as Maarani strained further to keep him at bay.

"I'm going to do what those idiot Fallen couldn't."

Zimorr let out a loud cry of pain as he brought the flight boosters of his exoskeleton to life. An array of powerful micro-engines lit up along the back of his spine and limbs. Forcing him forward into the violent pushback.

"You're the centre of everything that has gone wrong in this age!"

With the gap closing, Maarani gripped onto her right wrist with her left hand, ignoring the pain from both the burns, and the growing tension in her forearm.

When Zimorr came within a metre of Maarani, the Force struggle at his peak, he shoved his hand upwards.

The shift snapped Maarani's arm at the point of tension. Her concentration broke just as sharply, leaving her hurtling up at the corner between the wall and ceiling while the Force wake ended. She landed on the ripped lounge below, silent in agony.

Victory at hand, Zimorr closed in for the real finisher. No longer interested in toying around with speeches or the like. Just the defining moment of a kill left to sate his lust for suffering.

"Why her? Why my Azera? Why did she pick her to be your mate?"

He twisted Maarani around to keep her face to face. Delirious with pain, barely cognizant, not even putting up a struggle.

"Tell me! Why did she pick her!? Why!?"

In one last act of desperation, Maarani abandoned her dazed pretence to latch her left hand onto Zimorr's face.

After holding back for so long, bouncing the negative emotion between them both in a growing chamber of rage, she was finally giving into using her empathic powers. Every bit of her mental energy driving that raw emotion right into his brain.

The iris of Zimorr's left eye opened up, allowing the machinery within to protrude out. Typically set to record and project images, his last act to break out of the mental link was to have it discharge the remaining energy as a laser shot.

It struck Maarani directly in her right eye. Shock had left her numb to the pain of her broken arm, but not that. Her left hand left his head in a jolt as she recoiled again, clutching that burned hand over her eye socket.

Zimorr stumbled back, growing very quiet as the raw empathic energy surged around his brain. His balance began to waver.

"You… you- yhhhh-"

His words quickly became slurred, then muffled as he started foaming at the mouth. Head twitching and shaking around, hands and arms clutching up tighter and tighter.

He hit the ground in a full body spasm that lasted a few seconds. What remained of his face turned bright red. The foaming started dribbling over his cheek, until every part of his body stopped.

It was another minute before anything stirred in the room. The sound of a lightsaber cutting through the main door. As soon as it was clear, the door itself was pulled free by two Jedi guards that immediately stormed into the room.

"Maarani! Maarani!"

Izan was right behind them, blaster in hand as he scanned the room for her. The arrangement of the bodies threw him off for several seconds, until he finally noticed her to the far right.

By then she had managed to sit back up. Right arm draped across her lap. Left hand pressed across her right eye, fingers clawing into the skin of her temple. Her left eye had a blank expression to it.

"Oh gods, Maarani."

He roughly shoved the blaster into its holster while approaching her very carefully. She was definitely breathing, but with everything he had just seen, there was no telling what state she was in.

"Can you hear me? Maarani? It's over."

Maarani didn't move at all. The ordeal had burned her out so completely, in every possible way.

For so long she had wanted to be a Jedi. Only to have the ability snatched as it began to awaken in her. And now that it had been restored, she hadn't even been a Jedi for more than a week before killing someone with the Force.

The gift her father had wanted her to use in the pursuit of peace, no less.


Azera had been pacing the length of her cell right up to the point where she sensed others approaching. It was a lot more activity than she usually displayed when on her own. Indeed, it was the only time she didn't go and sit down when they approached the door. It was already hard enough to resist the urge to rush up to what she actually hoped was Maarani. Alive.

When the door opened, she took a few steps back with a deep rasp.

She could perceive Maarani's state of being clearly enough. The sharp break of her right arm, currently held in an emergency brace. The trembling of her left hand, once again burned, though that time she had refused the kolto glove.

The eyepatch made her heart stop. Stretched over the right eyesocket. Exactly like the vision she had experienced before waking that morning.

"Fix the arm."

"Tee-"

Maarani narrowed her remaining eye on Azera's face. Through her peripheral vision, she could see her hands already reaching up towards the head. Intent on healing the other eye.

"Fix. The. Arm."

Azera's hands hesitantly went back towards the unsightly bulge in her forearm. Her focus was on the doorway where Dana and Izan were standing.

The former had a great deal of shame hanging around her. The latter, simple, deep concern.

"Tee, I-"

"No talking."

In all her years, Azera hadn't once felt timid, until that moment. There was no denying that she had softened considerably. But there was now also no denying that Maarani had hardened just as much, if not moreso. And it was starting to haunt her.

Carefully, she walked Maarani over to the bench, doing her best to match the motion as they both sat down. She had taken that time to examine the extent of the break, and consider how to heal it. So far, there was consolation in that the bone hadn't punctured into the open, and that the break itself was rather clean. Fragments would be so much harder to get back into place where they wouldn't cause harm.

Her hands closed in around her arm more firmly. For a few moments, she was lost in thought, before sighing at her decision. "Tee, I'm not going to remain silent." That time, she stood firm in the face of that one-eyed glare. "I spent a year in silence on threat of death by Darth Lasidia. To prove my obedience to her. Is that what you want from me now? Obedience?"

"You're exaggerating-"

"No! You don't get to shrug this off! Not now!" Azera winced at realizing her grip had tightened. Whether or not it had caused more pain for Maarani, she couldn't tell anymore. She eased her hold back, then set to work on the healing process itself.

"You know what, Tee? After all that, there's nothing I actually want to say right now anyway. Nothing that I won't get yelled at for bringing up. So go ahead. Yell anyway. Blame me, your friends, the Jedi, the Sith. Everyone for this."

"Except myself, is that it?"

Azera turned her head away, no longer willing to face Maarani.

"This isn't my fault, you know. Vahl came in and stole the power from me. I don't know how to shoot lightning from my fingertips, or punch people's heads off, or make someone boiling over with homicidal rage calm down. I didn't have my lightsabers, a blaster, or anything. How is any of this my fault?"

"It's Zimorr's fault. Plain and simple. But you killed him, and that means you can't get the satisfaction out of making him suffer for it. And you want someone to suffer for it. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Oh he suffered plenty when I liquified his brain. Just like Dana insisted would happen back when we first got here." Maarani turned towards the doorway with a very embittered look. "You were right all along Dana!"

Dana took a sharp breath, then promptly walked out of view.

"I got my blood price for what he did to me. To all those men in the precinct. And what he did to you."

Azera's next breath had a definite tremble to it. Lacking eyes meant the full extent of what she was feeling was lost in that moment. "I didn't ever love him."

"But he meant something to you anyway. Is that it? Your sicko boyfriend, the one that didn't try to eat you, he actually mattered?"

Before turning around, Azera lifted her hands off Maarani's arm to keep from harming it by accident. She needed that assurance before turning her head back to face her again.

"Does that Zariba person still mean something to you? The one I keep hearing about from when you apparently took her hostage for a number of weeks? Or are you so very Jedi enlightened to the point that you've detached from all feelings for her? And how about Nurrina? Or Tebahney? You're allowed to brag about all those proud lesbian conquests to your current lover, but I have one awful man I cared for at one point and suddenly I'm the one at fault?"

"Everything with Zariba was a mistake I made. And since she's the one who decided to have me killed right before you showed up, no, I don't care about her anymore."

"That's not answering my question."

Maarani scoffed harshly. The fact was that she didn't have an answer she cared to share. And they both knew it.

"Just fix my arm so I can leave. I'm going to get yelled at by everyone for defending myself as is. I don't need to also get yelled at because I happen to be open about my sexuality."

"And what about your eye?"

"I don't need two eyes right now. What I need is to be able to swing my lightsaber properly if and when I need to protect you."

It was a weak attempt to try and settle things between them, but Azera took it nonetheless. And certainly much better than bringing up her latest vision given how much Maarani despised discussing such things.

Her hands wrapped around the break once more, working on setting the bone in place again. The damage to her muscle would take longer to heal, entailing another visit the next day.

"Just watch your back while you're out there, please. If Zimorr was able to track you down, these Hidden Hand people you've told me about might do the same. Or others that have a vendetta to settle. And I expect the Sith have been putting together some kind of plan to extract me by now. Don't get caught in that crossfire."

She slid her hands along Maarani's arm, gently loosening the brace for her. "I mean it. Watch your back."

Maarani chose not to say anything more. The brace she took hold of while getting up. There was still pain in her arm, and her fingers felt rather clumsy trying to hold the brace, but her right hand was working again at least.

The door closed behind her as soon as she was up the stairs. Not even a glance back to Azera that time.

"Carmen called in just now. Cecile's fine, no long-term damage."

Izan drummed his fingers on the holocom after the look he got from Maarani. There was no questioning that she cared, but for the moment it seemed that she wasn't willing to show it.

Dana was just as quiet for the moment, keeping her arms folded and remaining in her lean against the wall.

"If you're done here, we should head back. Delaying it won't help anyone."

Maarani kept her mouth shut as she walked past. She didn't go far however, stopping after a few steps, then turning around to pace some.

"Go. I've seen the holo recording from when the Council kicked out Surik. I need some time before I face that."

Without protest or argument, Dana nodded and started down the hall. Trying to change her mind about what would happen was pointless. She was just as uncertain as Maarani herself.

After another long moment for thought, Maarani looked over to Izan. "Let's go talk to Mission and Zaalbar, get you that job. Might as well make use of nepotism while I still can."

Izan was very calm and reserved. He wasn't afraid of what might happen to him for the wrong word out of place. Just that Maarani might run off on her own if he slipped up.

"Alright. When we're done, I'll come to the Temple. I'll even wait outside the Council doors if they let me that far in. I've got your back on this."


The hallway leading to the Jedi Council chambers felt dry to Maarani. She had been asked to wait a little while anyway, drawing the afternoon out towards the evening. With the sky turning a rather fitting orange-red, not unlike Wildfire, all signs pointed to what she was convinced would transpire.

Even under the circumstances, Izan felt a bit of wanderlust at being there, right beside her. Even after travelling with two Jedi for months, and everything that had happened, being that close to the centre of the Order itself was no small moment for him.

"So, this is what it looks like? I figured the Council room would be, smaller?"

Maarani frowned at that. Though she did lean to one side and look at the chamber room itself from the external view. "It's always been this big, far as I've been told. Maybe it'll end up smaller if they ever have to rebuild it. Does it matter?"

"I guess not? Just, seems big for something made mostly of glass, standing a few hundred metres in the air, at the centre of-"

The doors slid open to Master Utan. He looked to the pair at first, then motioned his head for Maarani to follow. Not a word spoken.

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

Izan stayed in place to watch her step through, keeping to his earlier promise. Through the doors, he could see that Bastila and Juhani were both occupying seats in the Council now. And just before they closed, he caught a glimpse of Dana off to the far left, staring out the window.

"I really hope this doesn't mean the end, Maarani. For whatever that's worth."

A short while into the wait ahead, he moved over to one of the more secure bulkheads to lean against. Even without a particular issue resulting from vertigo, he still felt wary about leaning on the windows at that height.

The orange-red of the sky soon shifted towards purples as the sunset set in fully. He didn't have an unobscured view of Coruscant's horizon from that position, but he had seen it plenty enough over the past week to picture it.

Sunset was over, the sky shifting into tones of purple when the doors finally opened again. Shortly after, Maarani stepped back out into the hallway. Completely blank in expression. Not upset, angry, or even happy by some unforeseeable happening. She also still had both lightsabers in her possession.

She stood there for a little while, then moved over to the left to put her back against the wall beside the door. Her blank look remained.

Izan waited for the door to close before leaning off the bulkhead to approach. Something about crossing the Council's line of sight still made him feel unnerved.

"Probably a dumb question, but do you want me to leave?"

Maarani didn't even manage a shrug. The only acknowledgement was a brief glance in his direction, then back to the floor just in front of her.

"When I first saw the archive recording from Surik's time, I was angry. Nomi, Atris, Vrook, Kavar, Vandar. They were all so infuriating in how judgemental they were. And then the others like Zhar and Lonna were just as infuriating for just…" She finally broke from her blank look, a harsh wince at herself. "Toeing the line. Hiding what they really thought. Because they didn't want an argument. Because they didn't care enough."

Izan swallowed silently. For the moment, he was there to listen, nothing more.

"I was so ready to get that kind of treatment. For Visas to look at me in that way Miraluka do, and everyone else to give me that condescending glare. I was so ready for Dana to take away the lightsaber, and to walk out of here for good."

She took her turn to swallow. Trying to hold back tears. Ones resulting from an empty feeling, and abject confusion.

"They were all sorry for me. That they abandoned me to begin with, then kept me at a distance after. That they got so caught up with protecting the Order that they let things get this screwed up. I mean, they wouldn't even let me take the blame for what I did to Zimorr."

"I've seen how much you blame yourself, over these past six months at least. Do you really want to keep doing that?"

Maarani did shrug that time. It was burdened however, carrying so much emotional weight as she pressed her lekku harder into the wall.

"Then, they finally told me the truth. My side, their side, and the honest-to-goddess truth about what the hell happened with the Lady of Sorrows. Just like that." Her eyes drifted towards Izan as the rest of her body shifted further. "It's not even that significant, or ground breaking. Just more stupid decisions, all the way down. I think it was only worth telling me so I don't have to think about it anymore."

Slowly, little by little, she slid down the wall to the floor into a mess of a huddle. Her hands clasped together and rested on her knees, thumbs jammed into her forehead.

"I'm so tired. So goddess damned tired. I'm tired of all the secrets, of all the fighting, of the ignorance and lack of planning or foresight. I'm sick of being reminded of how shitty things are everywhere I go. I'm sick of having to defend myself to literally anyone within earshot. I'm fed up with the Jedi, the Sith, and all the other crap in between. I'm fed up with feeling like everyone's out to get me. Because I'm stuck with powers I can't control, and because I have a girlfriend that everyone wants dead for valid reasons. Hell, for some it's just because I have a girlfriend at all."

She lifted her head off her thumbs with a deep sigh, pressing back into the wall again. Reluctantly, she pulled her lekku forward over her shoulders to keep remotely comfortable.

"I'm sick, I'm fed up, and I'm just tired of it all." Once again, she looked over to Izan in a long stare. "And I've got two more days of it to get through."

It was more than Izan could possibly hope to make sense of. At a certain point, there just wasn't any use to trying to empathise with it all. Every single nuance of her situation, every problem and issue. It was too big for either of them to shoulder.

But, at the very least, he could be a friend. And that was likely all that could be asked of him.

"There's a club of sorts, I've heard about. Upper levels, very good security. Entertainment that probably caters to your interests." He lifted his hands up in defence when he got a particular look for that. "Just this one night, you and me. It's not a date when I'm only there to make sure my friend gets home safely. And to be someone to talk to about anything that isn't current events. Like old times."

Maarani looked up from her distant stare, focusing on the hand outstretched to her. She felt as if she could remain there indefinitely, if given the chance.

"Pretty sure it was only one time. I got drugged, called your mother something awful, and had my leg broken. Not necessarily in that order."

Following a tilt of her head, she reached her hand up and grabbed his wrist, pulling herself up from his position of support. "So long as the 'entertainment' isn't Twi'lek dancers. They're really overrated."

"You almost puled a blaster on one, the first time we met. I've learned my lesson. It's mostly humans, some Zabrak. All the vanilla types. Just plain, boring breasts."

"When you put it like that, anything would sound plain and boring."