Chapter 40 – Aftermath
When Roganda found herself waking in a strange medical ward she almost panicked, believing her worst nightmares to have returned. Then she remembered. She had asked the medics who had tended to her after her flight and rescue to remove the Yuuzhan Vong implants from her body, and they had complied, understanding her need to get rid of those alien objects. It had been an extensive operation, and they had warned her that she might spend a day or two in a semi-conscious slumber. She did not recall much of what had happened during those two days, and her mind felt somewhat fuzzy. After a while she had grown accustomed to the silence of her room and the soothing blue light that filled her vision.
Roganda's body stiffened, when she realized that that blue glow was not emanating from the lamps at the ceiling. Those had been turned off, telling her that it was probably night over Anmedra. With some difficulty and a rapidly beating heart, she pushed herself upright. Her throat felt suddenly very dry, and tears stung in her eyes. Raising a hand pleadingly, she strained to reach the boy that stood at the door, regarding her out of cool blue eyes. His black hair was dishevelled, and he still wore the black clothes he had worn when she had last seen him alive. When had that been? Back at Yaga Minor, shortly before she and the Princess had been captured by Warlord Zsinj's troops and later been rescued by Han Solo and his friend, that baron whose name she had forgotten.
"Lando Calrissian," Irek supplied calmly, and a tiny smile curled his lips upward.
"What?"
"Lando Calrissian, the baron whose name you cannot remember. Mother."
Now she was totally confused. "How did you know? Did you read my mind?"
"No, his," Irek shrugged. "He's sitting outside your room. In fact he's been there for the last few hours." The boy gave her a roguish grin that she had not seen on him in years. "I suppose he's waiting for you to wake up. Are you sure you do not know him?"
Roganda shook her head, still bewildered, but gradually she felt happiness spread throughout her being, happiness at being granted this moment with her son. "Irek," she said softly. "Come here. Let me take a look at you." He shuffled closer, strangely reluctant. "You have grown so much," she whispered.
"Really? I don't see how that would be possible. " He grimaced.
"Not physically, silly. Here," she tapped her head slightly. It had been the wrong thing to say, she realized, when a look of pain sped across his eyes, and too late she remembered just what had made him grow that way. "I am sorry," she added hastily, preparing to leave the bed to hug him.
He waved her back and instead took a seat at the edge of the bed, next to her. "Mother," he began, "I am happy to be here with you. I have been missing you."
"Oh, Irek." Roganda felt her heart melt away, and her anxiety faded away, leaving only a soft glow of happiness. "Then you found forgiveness for your foolish mother?" she asked hopefully, yet feared his answer.
Irek put a hand on her shoulder and bent forward to kiss her forehead. "I should have been more grateful for having you with me," he said sadly, "instead of chasing shadows and dreams."
"Your father – "
"Which one?" he asked bitterly. "They are both the same, I believe." His gaze softened somewhat, became less fierce. "I am sorry, Mother, I did not mean to scare you."
Roganda had not even realized that she looked frightened. "I have not been granted much time," Irek explained regretfully. "But I wanted to come and tell you that I love you. I really do." His eyes widened in horror, and he quickly leaned forward to wipe her tears away. "No! Don't cry, please! I did not mean to make you cry ..." He trailed off, and the look on his face was so full of fear and silent suffering that Roganda could almost hear her heart crack and break. She thought she knew what he was fearing. That she would not accept him either, after what he had done.
"Yana is all right," Roganda explained soothingly. "We've made friends, she and I. She is a remarkable woman."
"She's my sister," he added proudly, making his mother smile.
"Yes, undoubtedly. Your – father," Roganda's expression grew more concerned as her son's face darkened in respone. "He is dead." Her voice rose into an angry growl. "I wanted to kill him myself, but I wasn't the only one, it seems. I suppose he got what he deserved."
"Yana has forgiven him," Irek explained thoughtfully. "I could feel it. It took some of my own anger away."
Crestfallen, Roganda reached for him, but her hands went right through him. "Irek. Son –"
"I killed Erinin," he said suddenly, his voice choked with tears. "I was so stupid. I realize that now." He sniffled a bit, then wiped a hand over his nose. "Why was I too blind to see that the only father I'd ever need was always there with me? I am so sorry for that, and for killing Yana's friend." He shook his head, his lips compressed in a tight line. "I guess I got what I deserved too," he concluded with finalty.
Roganda gasped in shock. "No! Never believe that you deserved to die, Irek! You could have had a future! That's all I wanted for you to have," she sobbed, "a future."
"Mother," he whispered, "you know that is not true. I could not have lived with the guilt, not in the long run, not even if I had realized then what I know now. I could not have forgiven myself."
Lowering her head in sorrow, Roganda nodded at last. "If that is what you believe – "
"Mother?" She looked up again, eyes tear-filled, to gaze at her son's earnest face. "Do not blame yourself for my deeds. Those are the past. I just want you to remember me. That is all."
"I will, I promise," she managed, and even found the strength to smile.
Again he kissed her, this time she could feel his cool lips on her cheek. "Thank you."
Closing her eyes, too moved to respond, Roganda felt his presence fade, and the darkness returned to her room. But there was a tiny flame dancing in the depth of her heart, comforting her. "Oh Irek," she sighed. "How could I ever forget you, you silly boy?" Shaking her head she lay back again to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The Empress' shuttle landed unmolested, yet more than one of the soldiers forming the honor guard threw an uneasy glance at the giant Yuuzhan Vong worldship that had brought her to Byss. Only Franzis Sarreti was gazing steadily at the landing ship, impatience wearing his nerves thin. The citadel was not yet fully restored, but the reconstruction work continued day and night, and they had at least finished the Empress' private wing of apartments fully. During the works, which Franzis oversaw personally, with no immediate crisis to resolve at this point, not until Yana's return, he had been presented with something found in the rubble by one of the soldiers working over the site. He still remembered the man's sweaty face, as he had handed the token over to the Counselor with a broad smile.
"For the Empress," he had declared, and Franzis had refrained from telling the finder that everything on the construction site belonged to the Empress, and that he could not really give her something she already owned as a gift. But he had taken it anyway, with thanks and encouragement for the continuing work. As it turned out, the salvaged present was a Jedi medallion, undoubtedly recovered from the Imperial museum of the citadel, which had stored Palpatine's most valued treasures. Once Franzis had realized what it was, he had been reluctant to even present it to Yana. As a Force-user herself, she might take offense. Well, he could always decide later. The loud hiss of the shuttle's hatch popping open distracted him, and he hastily straightened some more, eyes focused on the newcomers.
The first to emerge were two Yuuzhan Vong warriors, both dressed in full battle-armor. "Hold!" Franzis snarled, when a few of the Imperial guards made as if to go for their weapons.
Seemingly unpertubed by the reaction they had caused, the two warriors stepped a bit apart, to reveal the shadowy outline of an elaborately dressed Empress. Once Yana took the first few steps down the ramp, her spell caught everyone present on the landing platform, and Franzis was relieved to see that he was not the only one whose jaw dropped at the stunning sight. He knew, theoretically, that everything she wore was alive, perhaps even sentient to a certain extent. But she did not look the least uncomfortable with her attire, which included a high-collared dress with a tight bodice and a skirt that flared out from her waist almost horizontally, before it fell down to the ground. It was black, and covered with a chitinuous sheen. The dress was complemented by what looked like a helmet and sat atop Yana's thick curls, taming them somewhat. The impression she made was that of some beautiful war goddess. She obviously wore the three scars decorating her forehead with some pride.
Hurrying toward her after another moment of quiet admiration, Franzis dropped to one knee before her, and immediately the two Yuuzhan Vong were beside him, ready to intervene, should he try to harm the Empress. Yana waved them away leisurely.
"Please rise, Counselor," she asked softly and Franzis complied, noticing for the first time the alien standing behind the Empress, Chi'in clan Rim'kai. The Sith Lord's presence was unexpected, but Franzis knew he had enough time to find out why exactly he was here. Later.
"Welcome home, Your Majesty," he said, a smile on his face. "I fear the reception is not as grand as it could have been, but I decided to put more effort into reconstructing the citadel than preparations for a parade."
Yana laughed. "An excellent choice, Counselor, and exactly what I expected. Thank you," she added shyly.
Embarrassed, Franzis harrumphed loudly and fished the Jedi medallion from his pocket. "If I may, Private Marten Vishall found this in the ruins and asked me to give it to you as a symbol for their committment to rebuilding the citadel." He had made the last part up, but it seemed fitting. Taking the medallion, a gold coin, really, Yana placed it deftly on her palm. For a moment she seemed very still, then a look of horror crossed her face, and she closed her fingers over the medallion swiftly, yet her eyes still bore testimony to immense pain.
"Empress -?" Franzis began, concerned, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly.
He winced when she forced a happy smile on her face, but she went through the rest of the welcome ceremony without showing any more signs of torment, either physical or mental. But when finally she excused herself from the reception, she nodded at her counselor to accompany her. Anxious, Franzis hurried across the floor to reach her, and they walked silently side by side through the half-finished hallways that led to her private wing. When they had reached the threshold, Franzis hesitated, but she motioned for him to come in. The door closed behind them.
"You have done very well," Yana said, dropping into one of the chairs dotting the antechamber. She seemed very tired. Franzis joined her presently, but waited for her to continue. There was something on her mind, he realized, and she was trying to find a way to tell him. Yet her eyes seemed distant, her face slack and without emotion. When she continued, it was to say something completely unexpected. "I have decided to accept my duties fully."
"That is – great," Franzis replied lamely, feeling a bit confused.
The Empress turned a knowing smile on hime. "Is it that? It means a great many things, Counselor. For one, it means that you will have to shoulder all the administrative work, while I only have to sign the documents and make diplomatic calls."
"And what is Master Chi'in to do?" he asked suspiciously.
"Oh, I do not know." Yana leaned back in her chair langurously. "Probably the same that he has been doing so far. Teaching, counseling, offering guidance and protection."
Balking a bit at that, Franzis frowned. "Counseling and offering guidance are really my job description, Your Highness," he offered a bit testily, and her smile deepened some more.
"I know that, Franzis, but I have another task for you that will be very time-consuming, I fear."
He nodded sagely. "There was a message for you, brought by Master Fett. It is from Lord Kell."
"What does it say?"
Franzis frowned a bit. "The message is for you, not me."
"You mean you haven't read it?" She sounded surprised.
"Of course not! I kept it for you. Here."
Rising from his seat he walked over to the desk at the window and took the cube from the drawer he had put it into, then stalked back to hand it to Yana. She took it, but sat gazing at it for some time until she activated it. The message had to have been recorded at Bilbringi, Franzis thought, only a few days before Kell's death. The ancient Sith's face, when it appeared, was earnest.
"I regret having to leave my post as your advisor, Your Majesty, but dire business calls me away," the recording began. "You may believe that fate has treated you unfairly, but you must realize the chances you have been given, despite the disaster that might seem to overwhelm you. Nothing can break a strong will, Yana Dar, and you have such a strong will. You also have allies that will back you, no matter what. Be careful, though. There are those who would sell this galaxy out to anyone, if the outcome appears promising enough." A smile lit up the old man's features. "One last thing, Yana. Do not be afraid of the dark. It can be a shelter, a weapon, and a cure. No matter how deep you might dive into it, there is always a light to guide you, you only have to find the courage to see it."
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Yana whispered, her tone one of utter betrayal, and Franzis could feel his heart ache with hers. But Roj Kell wasn't finished. With a scowl pasted onto his face he said something in a strangely guttural language, that Franzis recognized at once.
"What did he say?" he asked, frowning.
"Sacrifice is a matter of perspective, not a matter of pride," she explained, translating the Yuuzhan Vong words. "He knew what path I would choose," she concluded, her voice dropping even further.
Suddenly her cool demeanor cracked, and the expression that appeared on her face was positively frightened. He realized that she was afraid of being rejected, laughed at and ridiculed. In an instant Franzis was out of his chair and kneeling next to hers.
"Your Highness, what is it with you? You seem different," he tried clumsily. "Is it the implants? Why did you keep them? If you need a rest we can arrange that too. Anything you need," he concluded haltingly, transfixed by her eyes. When she reached out to take his face in her hands he was paralyzed with delicious joy and swallowed slowly, trying to prolong the sweet moment some more.
"I realize I did not find the right words when I said that you have done well. You managed to keep me going even though you were not with me, and I always looked to you as example to get me through this ordeal. Can you imagine that? Even in the midst of battle I held firmly on to that image of my stiff-backed counselor, always calm, never at a loss of what to do or say." She smiled again, a private smile, that made his heart ache with longing. "I know that as Empress – and icon," she added as an afterthought, a jibe directed at him, he knew, "I am required to hold to a certain standard, but will you shame me into saying it? I can sense that we feel the same way about each other," she continued quietly, her tone humble. "Trust me when I say I did not expect this to happen, but it did. I won't deny it any longer. Will you?"
Franzis' throat was very dry when he shook his head ever so slowly. Gently freeing himself of her grasp he took her hands in his, holding them reverentially, close to his heart. "You honor me, Empress," he said hoarsely, and he knew he had to be blushing. "I confess that what I desired was your approval, your trust and committment to my cause. Now I have both, and more besides. I – " he closed his eyes. "I love you. Force help me, I do."
"Excellent," she breathed, her warm voice caressing his soul as she leaned toward him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Which is were the other job I have for you comes in. You know," she added, amused, "it is also an Empress' duty to provide a heir to the throne, and for that she needs a consort."
"Your Majesty! That is inappropriate!" Franzis exclaimed out of reflex and shocked surprise at her boldness.
She only laughed. "No, my dear. That is an order."
The Morning Glory, befitting her name, had settled down on the landing pad concealed in the mountain range opposite from Varykino the very moment the sun rose above the lake, turning the water's surface into molten gold and liquid fire. Awed by the sight, both Luke and Nuron were very silent when they followed Anakin down the sloping steps down to the shore, were they were already expected.
"Karrde," the Dark Lord said lightly. "I did not know you were such an early riser."
"Neither did I," the information broker replied gruffly, but his beard hid his smile only inadequately. "Come, get on board."
The wave-skimmer crossed the lake swiftly, and the roaring of its engines was echoed faintly from the mountain cliffs. Yet the peaceful silence permeating the valley stood firm against the intruding noise, and was still audible all around. Anakin was smiling in remembrance of his first visit to Varykino, the Naberrie family's retreat here in the Lake Country of Naboo. It seemed fitting to return to this place for the reunion with Padmé, that he had longed for so much ever since they had left Almashin. He missed her terribly. Even before they had fully drawn up to the small wharf he had already jumped over to the quayside and hurried up the steps to the large veranda overlooking the lake.
Anakin stopped short, transfixed by the sight. Padmé stood alone on the huge flagtiles that made up the deck, dressed in a floor-length robe of a creamy white hue. Not a simple robe, but an elegant, delicately embroidered dress that complemented her skin and loose hair perfectly. It was clear to him that she had put some effort into this outfit, into making herself presentable for her husband, and that touched his heart in a way he had not felt ever since they had been separated so long ago. He almost took no notice of Luke and Nuron, who tried to sneak past dicreetly, not wanting to disturb the mood. But Padmé had other plans.
"Luke, won't you say hello to your mother?" she asked coolly, and the boy hastily diverted his path to go and hug her dutifully.
"I missed you," he murmured softly, but it was clear that he'd rather be elsewhere. Amused, Anakin crossed his arms in front of his chest, and watched Nuron endure the former queen's scrutiny and welcome. When Padmé released the young couple again Karrde had already vanished into the complex. Strolling over to join his wife, Anakin was smiling.
"So, did you miss me too?" she asked, brows cocked questioningly.
He bent down to kiss her cheeks. "What do you think?"
"I think that was a lousy attempt at a kiss," she replied haughtily, but returned his smile.
"You look stunning, as always. As for the kiss, I really would not want to embarrass Luke further."
She laughed. "Nuron will rid him of that embarrassment soon enough, I believe!" Hooking her arm underneath his elbow, she started for the lodge, and Anakin followed contentedly. "Come, you must tell me everything that happened out there."
Suddenly it occurred to Anakin that his wife was strangely anxious and a bit too obviously happy for the usually so serene former queen. "Is there a problem?" he asked, bewildered.
She stopped in front of her quarters, looking up at him out of large brown eyes. "You tell me," she replied. "Leia thought you might be – depressed."
"What? Depressed? Here, with you?" Even more confused, Anakin tried to think of what might have prompted his daughter to draw such a conclusion. Then he remembered, and his face darkened for a moment. "Oh. I see. No, I don't think I am depressed. Not any more, that is." He ran a hand over his bald head self-consciously.
"So, what happened?" Padmé pressed on as she opened the door. They entered together.
"Just something I didn't expect." And that was an understatement. On Laa'kuan he had been relieved to find that he was different from his predecessor, that he did not have to give up his life to serve as Cor'dan. But then, only a few days later, on their way to Almashin, fate had caught up with him. "I fear you'll have to share me with an inexplicable force from now one," he added lightly, and Padmé gave a sad smile.
"I know. Kell told me."
Anakin's blood froze in shock. "He did?"
"Back on Bilbringi, yes."
"Oh, on Bilbringi. I see." Relieved, he dropped onto the couch by the fire-place, where he was quickly joined by Padmé. "I almost feared he'd come back somehow."
"He isn't coming back, my love. And I won't share you with anyone."
Her sincere vow lit up his heart with a fierce fire of pride and contentment. "Is that so?"
"Indeed."
It was afternoon by the time they had finished discussing the past events in detail, and outside the lake was a shimmering mass of glittering light. The sound of bird song and the chirping of small insects rose from the garden and entered the bedroom on a light, warm breeze. Lying on the bed and wrapped in Padmé's slender arms, Anakin felt very good indeed. Suddenly he smiled, and kissed the tip of his wife's nose playfully. "You kow," he said, "I really wonder how many children will be born in the aftermath of this war."
"I am not going through that again," she replied somewhat stiffly. "Once was enough. And we do have a pair of beautiful children already."
Anakin laughed out loud and was pushed out of her embrace for his trouble. Still wheezing with laughter, he reached out to bury a hand in her long, soft tresses. "No, no," he soothed her, smiling at her petulant expression. "I rather meant that we have a good chance of becoming grand-parents by the end of the year. Remember when we talked about it?"
Her face lit up. "Oh. Of course!" Snuggling up to him again she caressed his chest gently. "You mean, now that our beautiful children have found their own soul-mates?"
"Exactly." They kissed. "So, how many do you want?"
"As many as possible."
Leia felt a headache coming on, not surprisingly. She had been stuck in these meetings for the past five days, and neither Seelac nor Thrawn were willing to accept Franzis Sarreti's proposals. Nolyane, the Star Keeper herself, though, seemed to have no problem accepting the Yuuzhan Vong as legitimate citizens of the Empire. It had been almost a month since the Yuuzhan Vong invasion had been beat back and ended, but chaos prevailed in most administrative departments on Coruscant. Including her own. Longingly she thought of a long bath, a quiet evening with Han, some relaxation, but she wouldn't be granted either today, she mused resignedly. Most issues had been resolved in the negotiations, but there was that one – a highly explosive matter – and it had Chief Military Advisor Seelac jumping left and right in frustration.
"Come now, General," she told Seelac, fearing he would suffer a heart attack if he continued to work himself up that way over the matter. "Counselor Sarreti is trying as hard as you are, and he does not mean to sabotage these talks, I am certain."
Seelac's face turned an even darker red. "Minister, it is an outrage and insult to us all for the Empire to grant amnesty to these butchers! It is even more of an insult and outrage to make them citizens in this galaxy! No matter of what nation!"
Franzis Sarreti, of course, appeared totally unruffled by the general's repeated insults and accusations. Arching his brows meaningfully, the counselor nodded his thanks at Leia for her intervention. "General, I do not quite understand how you can be so upset," he explained carefully. "I remember most vividly that the New Republic pardoned quite a few of the Imperial commanders that were captured during the war, and called for amnesty for all remaining officers and soldiers willing to join the New Republic Navy. I see little difference between what you did back then and what I am proposing right now. It is not that you can prevent us from going through with this anyway. I would simply appreciate it if we could still retain diplomatic and economic ties with the New Republic as well as with the Chiss Empire." Here he directed a glancing nod at Thrawn, who did not react.
But Seelac jumped out of his chair and for a moment Leia feared he would go for Sarreti's throat. "You dare!" the general roared, making the princess flinch. "You compare those monsters' deeds to what was no more than a war led by duty! Those creatures meant to destroy the entire galaxy! All of them! And we did punish and execute the worst cases, Counselor! I don't see any of that happening in the Empire! All I see is that you graciously pardon vicious murderers!" He dropped back into his chair with a huff. "Under these circumstances I see no way to come to an agreement with your government," he concluded more calmly.
Out of the corner of her eye Leia noticed the Chiss Syndic leaning forward, folding his hands on top of the table. "If I may," Mith'raw'noruodo began, his cool voice soothing everyone. "I understand General Seelac's misgivings, and share them. The Chiss have suffered dearly under the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, and though I understand that Her Highness Yana Dar has suffered no less, perhaps even worse, and even though I admire her generosity, I also concur with General Seelac. Additionally, His Revered Highness Emperor Ja'han'mandana has asked repeatedly to be granted a meeting with the Empress and has been refused every time." He turned glowing red eyes on Sarreti, who gazed back just as calmly. "Your request concerning the occupation of unchartered worlds is therefore unacceptable without additional securities."
Nodding gravely, Franzis Sarreti answered: "I did not come here to leave empty-handed again, ladies and gentlemen. Fact is, that we do need new worlds to accomodate the Yuuzhan Vong. We will not take those worlds by force, I assure you, but I still must ask you to reconsider."
"That is just brilliant;" Seelac snorted. "I can just see the Empire returning to its origins! Palpatine never saw fit to keep his promises either! And you know as well as I do, Sarreti, that with the Yuuzhan Vong technology you have you are a major power in that sector! Not to mention that your Empire also commands the remaining Sith! I do not wish to ally myself with an Empire that will only become a perversion of what its leaders painted to be the great ideal for order or justice! We saw what came of that!"
"I never said anything about order or justice," the counselor shot back icily.
There was a discreet harrumph, and Leia felt very relieved to find that Tomas Piett had finally decided to join this discussion. The former admiral, his pale eyes clear and alert, gave each one of them a sharp glance, before he addressed Seelac directly. "All valid arguments and justified fears," he began calmly, "and yet also so very narrow-minded. You are comparing Yana Dar to her father even though she has given testimony to just how different she is from what he was." He gestured toward Sarreti, who appeared as suspicious as both Seelac and Thrawn. "We all know what the Empire did to those it conquered, those it thought savage, inferior or simply a nuisance. I for one am grateful that Yana Dar does not repeat those vengeful methods her father used, and instead opted for a more generous and lenient approach."
"Of course you would side with them," Seelac replied nastily. "You've allied yourself with them even during the war, and you would be the first they would conquer, given the chance."
"You misunderstand, General, I – "
"Oh, I understand very well."
"Enough!" Leia rose from her seat, looming over the assembly despite her small height, and her brown eyes were burning embers of outrage. "This sessioin is closed for today," she growled. "I will be preparing a set of proposals that I ask you all to review carefully. We will discuss them the day after tomorrow. In a calm, civilized manner," she added dangerously. "I hope that will be enough time for all of you to cool off."
"Are you sure you will manage to prepare those proposals in time?" the Grand Admiral asked sweetly, a knowing smile on his face that was repeated all through the assembly. Suddenly Leia felt faintly embarrassed.
"Do not worry about what I can accomplish and what not. You should rather try to improve your own efforts here," she replied at last, deflated. For the last few hours she had managed to forget about her nervousness, but now her stomach started churning again in anticipation. She would get married tomorrow. "That is all," she finished, then smiled. "I will see you all at the ceremony and reception. And I expect there to be no bloodshed or any such thing," she added.
"We'll behave," Franzis Sarreti said, voice dead-pan. "I swear."
Did she just hallucinate, or was that a wink he sent in Seelac's direction? Suddenly Leia felt left out of the picture. She had expected yesterday's discussion to continue, of course, but something seemed just not right. The smiles on their faces seemed too knowing, as if – Leia smiled, despite herself. She would not put it past them to have already come to an agreement, that they only had staged this outrage to annoy her. Was that a grin on the Grand Admiral's face? It was shocking.
"Tell me," she began carefully, her features carefully neutral, "I won't be coming back here the day after tomorrow only to find that this situation has been resolved already and my work here today was for nothing, will I?"
"All things are possible," Tomas Piett offered philosophically.
Leia rose. "Right. Then I will see you all tomorrow. Than you for this enlightening discussion, and good night." And indeed, once she left the chamber, the sound of quiet laughter followed her out.
An odd trio stood in the cold, blank hallway outside the base's detention level, waiting. Jix was slouching against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest and smoking his pipe, while Mara kept glancing at the officer on duty who sat behind his desk just behind the energy field sealing the detention area off. The Chiss seemed completely unpertubed by her steady gaze. But once in a while his glowing eyes would flicker to the third visitor, a short, grey-skinned alien. Andarack had gotten himself quite a reputation in the battle for Anmedra. It seemed that every Chiss knew him by sight.
Then a short gong sounded throughout the hallway and the Chiss officer rose from his desk. "Step back, please," he ordered, before deactivating the shield. "Wait there, please," he added, pointing at the wall opposite from his desk.
Great. Strolling over, Jix joined Mara and Andarack and the three of them resumed their waiting. Two minutes later four Chiss guards rounded the corner, a familiar figure in their midst. Naas Deron's hair was cut short and he had lost a bit of his bulk, but apart from that he seemed to be okay. Apart from that, and the look in his eyes. Jix winced inwardly.
"What a nice welcome committee," the Sith Lord commented drily. He glanced briefly at Andarack, but Jix could tell that he was slightly disappointed that it wasn't Chi'in. "Where are you taking me?"
"Byss, of course," Jix explained, once Deron had received his private possessions from the Chiss officer and signed the receipt.
Deron frowned. "Byss? Why Byss?"
"Rehabilitation," Mara explained earnestly, and Jix grinned at the way Deron's eyes bulged.
Then the Corellian threw a flippant salute at the Chiss and told the other: "Say good-bye to these fine gentlemen, cause we're leaving. Thane is waiting for us at the ship."
Naas Deron frowned. "Thane? Would you be referring to Commander Al'than'erudo, then?" They set into motion, beginning the long walk back to the base' hangar bay at a leisured pace.
"Yep. Takes too long to pronounce that name fully, so I kinda asked his permission to take a short-cut." He grinned.
"I don't suppose your'e calling the Emperor 'Han', right?"
"Only when no one's around."
Naas Deron heaved a tiny sigh. "I see you haven't changed much, Mister Jixton. Good for you. I heard His Revered Highness himself ordered my pardon," he added, definitely hoping for a straight answer.
Jix shrugged. "Yeah, I heard that too."
"I also heard you've been made special Imperial ambassador to Csilla," the Sith Lord pressed on. "Not to mention you helped save his life back at Kynda'bey. One might suspect that this is your doing."
Mara laughed out loud, shaking her red mane. "Men! Jix, why don't you just plead guilty and have this over with?" She gave Naas Deron a conspirative wink. "Now that Skywalker is safely back with his family, Jix had to find a new victim and Yana wanted to get him out of her hair, understandably. It turns out that my darling has a weakness for authority, as long as he can get on its nerves."
"And he gets away with it?" Deron asked interestedly. "I would have thought Ja'han'mandana would be less lenient than Lord Skywalker."
Mara reached out to ruffle Jix' hair, before he could get away. "Oh, you know how it is, every king his own fool."
"That was nasty," Jix exclaimed, truly hurt.
"But so true," Andarack injected quietly.
"Hey, I thought you guys were my friends! And now I find that I've placed myself neatly ina den of sneaky vipers! You know, I really – " But his protests were drowned out by their laughter, and after a while Jix forgot about why he had been angry in the first place. Perhaps Andarack had been right after all.
The inauguration ceremony had been pretty severe, but adequate, Tomas thought. Election day had seen him confirmed as president and Lemit Zickorey initiated as his vice-president, just as he had expected. And now, three months after the decisive battles at Kynda'bey and Almashin, with the diplomatic negotiations gradually turning into real diplomatic discussions instead of a set of heated shouting-matches, he had assembled his friends and allies here on Bilbringi to attend the inauguration ceremony and the grand opening of the Memorial Art Gallery, which had been incorporated into the after-ceremony reception. He was strolling the different rooms slowly, Raisa by his side, and for the first time in months he felt truly content and safe.
Raisa, dressed in a tight red silk dress, her short black curls falling loosely about her face, was nervous, he could tell. All of the paintings and sculptures that were presented here were her works. Over time new ones would join the collection of course, also of different artists, but this day was reserved for Raisa alone. Unused to these festive surroundings and to the illustre assembly of guests, Raisa clung to him for support, an unusual move for this fierce woman, and Tomas felt unsure of how to ease her mind. He had been telling her over and over again that everything would be all right, but she had countered thats he feared everyone would be praising her works only because of who she was with. Despite Tomas' sincere protests, she had not managed to shed the tight look on her face.
Suddenly she dragged him over to a small group of spectators that had assembled in front of one of the larger paintings. He was a bit surprised by her sudden determination, but went along. One of the spectators, he noticed, was Princess Leia, with her brother standing close behind. Her husband, Captain Solo, was nowhere in sight.
"Do you like it?" Raisa asked quietly, and the princess whirled around, surprised, to face the taller woman.
"Oh, Raisa! Tomas!" she exlaimed. "A wonderful reception, yes, thank you." But before Raisa could say anything else Leia gestured at the canvas, a sparkle in her eyes. "I was just explaining to Luke what it means."
"Leviathan," her brother quoted, "a fitting title."
They turned around to gaze at the picture again. It showed a huge, dark shape rising above a misty planet like a vengeful wraith, and it seemed alive with evil intent and a desire to destroy and kill. The background of black space and a multitude of stars did not alleviate the menace that emanated from the image at all. It was eerie, how the painting spoke through eyes and imagination right to the heart. Tomas knew exactly what it depicted. The Yuuzhan Vong worldship that had threatened Bilbringi, that the Princess had destroyed with the aid of Roj Kell. There was a portray of both somewhere in the collection, he recalled, also capturing the essence of their differing personalities. Which reminded him, that he had to go and accompany the Dark Lord on a walk through the gallery too. That should be very interesting.
Leia shivered ever so slightly. "You are a true artist, Raisa," she declared. "Father already warned me, though, that the paintings would be somewhat sinister. But I like that, the abstract form too. It conveys the very core of the war, the suffering, the fear, and hope." She smiled. "I like the one you painted of Tomas. I have never seen him really smile before."
"Or with so few clothes on," Luke Skywalker added drily.
"Damn," Tomas breathed, blushing hotly. "I hoped that no one would recognize me on that one."
"Father's comment, I recall, was: The Imperial officer corps has often been named a fine body of men. Now we know why," the Princess added, chuckling softly. "I think he is right."
Ignoring the women's giggles, Tomas looked around furtively, to find something to distract them. "Speaking of," he said. "Let's go and find him. I believe this merits a thorough discussion."
He glanced over at the plaque of Nubian marble, that had been fixed discreetly next to the balcony door, and unbidden his memory supplied the price Piett had said they'd paid for that magnificent ornament, gray swirls on black. But the true price, the one they had paid in blood and tears, had been chiselled into the stone in silver lettering. Four names, in memory of so many they had lost. Anakin's smile was bitter-sweet as he began reading them, remembering.
Cronn had been the first, impossibly killed by Erinin Mahda aboard the Executor. Anakin could easily recall the Falleen's cool grace, the quiet surety with which he had followed his master into battle. The master who had lost more than one student in this struggle. The next on the list, whose senseless death still stung Anakin's heart, was Irek Ismaren. A boy, with a brilliant mind that was not his own and a twisted, yearning heart. Though Anakin had never met him in person, he could feel the boy's pain linger in his own heart. He had felt the same way, years ago. But contrary to Luke and Leia, contrary to Irek, he had never even known who his father had truly been.
The third name brought a bitter smile to his face, remembering a love torn apart by death. Puket had always been the exotic flower among them, an ethereal beauty whose achievements had never sparked any comment, who had always been the odd one out, before she had found her love in Naas Deron. Such a brief love. He had survived her, though the Force knew he had tried very hard to follow her into oblivion. In a way he was as much victim as she.
Anakin's mood grew even more somber as he stared at the fourth and last name. That one had died as he had lived. For over three thousand years Roj Kell had kept his life and existence a mystery, a secret that would never be fully uncovered, no matter that he had left his memories for the galaxy to ponder for an eternity. Anakin raised his glass in a respectful salute. Here's to what you have achieved, he offered silently, ironically, for he himself was part of that accomplishment. He was not yet sure if he would ever be able to deal with that.
Taking a sip of wine he absent-mindedly started playing with the Jedi medallion that Yana had given him earlier. I think you should have this, she had said, her voice uncharacteristically low. He had slipped it into his pocket hurriedly, too busy following the inauguration ceremony to bother looking at it. Now he took it out of the pocket to examine it. The medallion lay smoothly in his palm, cool and reassuring. Traditionally twelve such coins would be manufactured when a Jedi Knight attained the rank of Jedi Master, to be given to family and friends for remembrance. He squinted at the inscription that had been delicately worked into the metal. The Jedi Code, carefully spelled out word for word, with the name of the Jedi Master who had devoted his life to following that code placed underneath the flowing lines.
Alamys Jorka.
He did not remember a Jedi Master of that name. Had he died before the Clone Wars, before Anakin himself had entered the service of the Jedi Order? And if so, how had this medallion found its way to Byss, where Palpatine had kept part of numerous trophies collected in his long war against the Light? A serious question, that made him frown deeply. Deftly flipping the gold disc around, he found himself gazing at an image of the Jedi Master, impressed into the back of the medallion in astounding detail. The expression that had been frozen on Alamys Jorka's face was arrogant, or calculating, depending on how one wanted to interpret the haughty streak about his mouth, the piercing quality of his gaze, that was visible even imprinted on a mere gold coin. His hair, deftly depicted, was slightly curly and fair, and it had been cut short, exposing his lean face fully. A hard face, Anakin thought, his lips tightening. He knew that he must look much the same, after all the years of hardship he had endured. But now he was finally home, at ease. And perhaps, just perhaps, that state would last for the rest of his life.
Heaving a tiny sigh he closed his hand around the medallion to put it back into his pocket and felt a strange warmth spread out from the metal. A feeling close to kinship seemed to connect him to the medallion, and for a moment he held his breath. With a high screech an image lanced through his mind, a cut-off scream of rage and betrayal, a brief flash of emotion that pierced his heart mercilessly. He closed his eyes, sweat beading his brow as he focused more deeply on the sensations conveyed through the medallion. The rim of the coin dug into his palm as he held it tighter, bracing himself.
There it was again, a familiar face, with blue eyes that were icy cold despite the fury he could sense from their owner. A tall man with dark blond, graying hair and a deeply lined face, that was marred with rage and pain. A long, broad scar ran from his left eye down to his chin, slanting the corner of his mouth down. His nose seemed to have been broken numerous times during the past, and all in all he bore little resemblance to the proud man who had posed for the image imprinted on the Jedi medallion.
With mounting dread, Anakin watched the Jedi Master rise slowly to his feet from where he had fallen on a black marble floor, cold gaze fixed on whoever was confronting him. Judging by the site where the medallion had been found, the Dark Lord had a good idea through whose eyes he was watching all this. Alamys Jorka had been dressed in plain civilian clothes in the last hours of his life, it seemed. A dust-covered black jacket, too tight, Anakin noticed, wide, dark grey pants and a long-worn belt of brown leather. Black, knee-high boots completed his attire.
"Finally we meet again," Darth Sidious said, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "It has been a long time, my friend. But at last you have come."
"Don't think I will beg for mercy, Sidious," Alamys Jorka spat, his baritone voice laced thickly with contempt and obvious strain. He had been injured, that much was clear. His scarred face twisted into a mocking smile. "Now that you have captured the last of my kind, will you triumph at last? Will you show your true face to the galaxy?"
"Alamys," the Emperor said patronizingly, "the last of your kind? You? Not at all. But I have been waiting a long time to have you in my grasp again. You have kept yourself hidden from me long enough."
A flash of pain crossed Master Jorka's face. "Whatever advantage you had hoped to gain by capturing me, you are too late," he answered, his voice thick with emotions Anakin could not begin to identify.
Sidious' tone was very dry as he challenged: "Really? Whatever makes you think so?"
Now Jorka's expression was positively triumphant. "And in the time of greatest despair there shall come a savior, and he shall be known as the Son of the Suns," he quoted slowly, deliberately. "Sounds familiar?" He was smiling, a smile at the very verge of madness.
Anakin would have expected anything but what happened next. Amidst low chuckles of genuine amusement, Darth Sidious started clapping his hands in mock applause. "Well done," he said at last. "If you want to play a game of prophecy, why not name this one? 'The most potent instrument of balance undoubtedly is a fusion of light and dark, of dark within light and light within darkness. The dark side of the sun, and the bright, merged in a glorious fire of power.' You obviously had no time to study the Jen'da Prophecies, Alamys," he added, sounding almost sad.
The Jedi Master's face paled. "What do you mean?"
"I know, Alamys. I know where you have been hiding, and I know what you did in your despair. As it was foretold, as it was prophesized. The dark within light, Alamys Jorka, was you." Darth Sidious' voice dropped into a whisper as he continued. "And the light within darkness is mine already. He will teach your son when the time is right, and your son will become my tool, my creation. Such power, Alamys," he sighed in undeniable delight, "such delicious power as you have commanded! Oh, how I envied you!" Laughing out loud, the Emperor brought his hands together in a loud clap, earnest once more. "Enough of these games. Your time is running out. Yet I must thank you for your dilligent efforts in assisting my own plans. A true friend. I will always be indebted to you. And now, Alamys, I will release you from your bonds." His voice dropped to a malicious whisper. "As a friend would do for another."
The vision faded rapidly, leaving Anakin Skywalker standing stock-still in an art gallery on Bilbringi, a glass of wine in one hand, his father's Jedi medallion in the other. His father ... His mind completely blank he stood there, staring into the distance, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He remembered what he had been told, that he was the Chosen One, that he would bring balance to the Force, that his power was unparalleled. He recalled a magical night on Nirauan, when he had accepted the burden of becoming Cor'dan amidst the galaxy's battle for survival against the Yuuzhan Vong. You have been chosen a long time ago, Roj Kell had told him back then, yet Anakin knew for certain that the ancient Sith had not been referring to any lousy prophecy. He had believed with all his heart in balance, it had been the essence of his own faith and that of the Sith of old. A belief that had become Anakin's own, over time.
He looked down to find that his hand was shaking, spilling wine all over the fine carpet, but he could not quite understand why this was happening to him. He was utterly confused about a great many things. The light within darkness is mine already. The Heart of Darkness. Of course. Just a minor detail in Palpatine's grand plan. A single tear slid down his cheek. He wiped it away self-consciously, the cool metal of the medallion brushing his skin briefly. An image of his mother rose in his mind, unbidden, her gentle face as she had smiled at him, a reassuring smile meant to soothe a child that was leaving home forever. And later, that same face, months of pain eased by her son's presence as he had held her battered body inside that Tusken camp on Tatooine, unable to prevent her death. Had she known? She never had told him about a father, had brushed his tentative questions aside with words that had confused his young mind.
"Ani?"
He looked at Padmé through a curtain of tears that blurred his vision and turned her face into a strange mist, as if she were vanishing too. Hurriedly, he threw his arms around her slender shoulders, holding her tight, for fear that she would somehow be torn from his embrace again, that she would turn out to be no more than a particularly painful memory. Her hands – so small – slowly ran down his back, a comforting gesture of warmth and affection. It only made him cry harder.
"Ani, hush, don't cry. " Leaning her forehead against his chest she held him just as fiercely as he was holding her, and so they stood for a long time, entwined in understanding.
"We need to add a fifth name to that plaque," he managed at last, voice thick with tears of sorrow for a stranger. Disengaging form her gently, he let the medallion dangle from his fingers, for her to examine.
She stared at it, uncomprehending. Suddenly her eyes widened, those liquid brown eyes he loved so much. Looking up at him she nodded mutely, then pressed her cheek against his body once more, and again her arms locked around his waist, squeezing tightly. He rested his chin atop her head carefully, and noticed the silent crowd that had gathered to watch.
Anakin tried a small smile as he saw the concerned faces of his children. And behind them, her blue eyes thoughtful, Yana Dar stood gazing at him earnestly. She had known, hadn't she. That was why she had brought the medallion all the way from Byss. Anakin looked down at Padmé, his smile deepening, and he caressed her cheek affectionately before he took a step back. She took the glass from his hand and nodded. Walking slowly, he made his way toward the Empress and found the twins stepping aside wordlessly to let him pass, sensing his mood. Grateful for their understanding he gave both a smile that they returned with smiles of their own.
Then, locking blue eyes with blue, he bowed before the Empress, holding her gaze. Then her face blossomed in an expression of utmost grace and beauty. A luminous face. Straightening once more, he took her hand cautiously.
"Someone once said that a father's crimes are that of his children," he began, fighting his own emotions, that threatened to rise again. "But I find that it is a child's duty to avoid committing crimes herself, instead of atoning for those her father may have committed."
"Wise words, Lord Skywalker," she replied, her voice very soft. "Am I guilty of a crime, then?"
He shook his head. "No, not at all. And no one should dare try to make you responsible for your father's actions. You have proven that you are Empress, and that you respect and value the traditions of old. I am Cor'dan," he concluded, "and I would be honored to serve you."
She knew what he was offering. A reconciliation. A union of ideals and power that her father had impressed upon the galaxy with brute force, that could now be established willingly. Her eyes widened ever so slightly and then she smiled, raising her glass for all to see.
"A toast," she said, her voice loud and clear. "To wisdom. To unity. To dreams. And that they may come true one day."
To be concluded