Chapter 4:
Of Allies and Adversaries
Typhani and Daala had never met and never communicated with each other, for obvious reasons. Both suffered cruel humiliation when the truth came out, leaked by one of Daala's officers who had been disgruntled over his long stay in the Maw and his ordeal of failed battles in the year that followed. The tabloids had a veritable field day with the scandal, and, ironically, the Imperial ones were even more savage than those from the New Republic.
Typhani had not advised Daala that she was coming, having arranged the meeting under an assumed name and purpose through a convoluted chain of contacts. She as of yet didn't know exactly what she was going to say or how she was going to say it. She arrived on Pedducis Chorios early in the afternoon, and proceeded overland to Daala's outpost. The place struck Typhani as extremely drab, somewhat dirty, and altogether lacking in style, but she had not come to be a critic. The compound lay close to the ground, its architecture manifesting low, horizontal lines, built of slabs of gray slate and native amber-colored stone with ample windows made of seamless smoke-tinted glass that provided sweeping views of the surrounding desert-like terrain and breathtaking distant mountains. The walkways were covered with neat squares of terra-cotta colored stone tiles. Narrow breezeways connected the main house with some smaller out-buildings, one of which Daala used as a small conference center for her consultation work and colony meetings.
When the conference room door slid aside and Daala realized the true identity of her visitor, she froze and her face grew ashen. She had already had one altercation with her current significant other that morning, and she wasn't particularly in the mood for further provocation. She had dreaded this confrontation for nearly fifteen years now, and had thought and thought again several times of initiating it herself just to get it over. In fact, she had once considered taking her colony of New Order supporters to the Imperial stronghold of Phelarion, but decided against the close proximity to someone she perceived as her nemesis.
Daala stood trim in her olive green pantsuit and black, high-heeled boots, though at last not quite as trim in the days of her more destructive exploits. Her dark, coppery hair still hung long, though it was now beginning to streak with gray. Typhani looked as if she could have been on any of her usual professional trips in her dove-gray short-skirted business suit with its prominent silver shell buttons and gray and white studio pumps. For a long moment, the two women took stock of each other. Daala wondered if Typhani was armed, as she presently was not. Typhani stepped into the conference room and walked straight toward Daala.
Daala finally mustered the nerve to speak as Typhani approached her. "Lady Tarkin--"
"Just call me Typhani," she insisted. "Please, sit back down," she continued in a calm voice. Daala very slowly complied, but wondered if she should call for her security guards. Typhani took the seat right next to her and the two women turned to face each other. Daala was definitely not used to having someone come into her space and take control, but she knew Typhani's reputation very well.
Typhani waited a moment before starting the conversation, watching for some signal that the former Admiral was willing to listen to her. She finally began. "Daala, I have what may be some very important and wonderful news for all of us, and by all of us I mean the Empire--the real Empire, the way things were before the Battle of Yavin," she revealed.
"All right," Daala responded, not sure what to expect.
Typhani took another moment. She could barely control her own elation, as she had waited nearly a quarter of a century to utter these words to someone outside her immediate family. She had never been quite sure how true the rumors were, how far the relationship had gone, or how much if anything her husband had told Daala about their additional plans for her, so she decided to use his more intimate middle name, used only by the family and their very close friends, as a measure of their familiarity and to see the type of reaction it would elicit from the former Admiral. Typhani looked into Daala's emeraldesque eyes, and leaned toward her a bit.
"Adrian is alive," she said softly but firmly.
Daala nearly choked on the very air she breathed, and she cupped her hands over her mouth to muffle the gasp. How long she had ached to hear those words! Her imperious guard totally fell away, and Typhani reached up to gently take her wrists.
"It's true! It's really true, isn't it!" Daala breathed with a burst of emotion unbecoming of her usual demeanor. Still holding her wrists, Typhani nodded in confirmation.
"But, the Rebels, the Death Star, the shuttle--the Rebels said there was no shuttle! The Rebels said he was on the station! Rebels who were there!" Daala felt her head begin to spin. Sensing this, Typhani gave her wrists a reassuring squeeze. Daala stared deep into Typhani's dark brown eyes, as if she could somehow download and assimilate all the information at once.
Typhani let Daala catch her breath before continuing, "He was already aboard the station when the Battle of Yavin started. What we think happened is that Charlie Bast--surely you remember Charlie--pulled him out at the last minute. They did make it to Adrian's command shuttle, but something happened to them along the way." Daala began to nod slowly, fixated on Typhani, absorbing every syllable. "They got out, and did manage to set course for Tallaan, but the shuttle was very badly damaged. It lost its atmosphere during the flight and crash-landed at the Tallaan Shipyards. The only reason Adrian survived was because he was already injured and someone had strapped him in and put him on air. Everyone else on board had suffocated, except for Charlie. They think he died before the atmosphere blew. Charlie probably partially shielded Adrian from something on the station, but we think the bulk of his injuries happened when the shuttle crashed. The ejectors engaged, and he was thrown . . ." Daala cringed, and the pace of her breath increased. Horrible images flashed through her mind--had he been wasting away as an invalid all these years, finally calling for her from his deathbed? Did he know or understand what she'd done, how she had abandoned the Maw Installation just as the Rebels learned of its existence? How badly she'd failed in battle? Again, and again?
"Where is he?" Daala asked softly.
"Right now, in transit to the Andromeda Medical Center on Lumin," Typhani said.
Daala hesitated, and lowered her voice a bit. "Does he know what happened to the lab?" she asked with trepidation.
"No, he doesn't know about the Installation, or about anything else that has happened since the Battle of Yavin. That's why we're going to need your help. I think you would be a great comfort to him in helping him assimilate everything that has happened since then, especially with the lab. After all, Daala, you are the only surviving receptacle of information about all of the work there, especially the time after Bevel left," Typhani explained. "And, you've been involved in so much since then."
"I don't understand," Daala said, "Has he been in a coma?"
"Carbonite," Typhani answered.
"Carbonite!" Daala echoed.
Typhani nodded again. "He was too badly injured. They couldn't help him, not back then. He's allergic to bacta, you know. The carbonite was the only way to give him a chance for later. Only recently--"
Daala broke in, "That nanobiomechanical cell regeneration project!" Now things were starting to make sense. "They're going to bring him out of the carbonite!"
"If it works, Daala, we'll have a new Emperor soon," Typhani said with a smile, "and I think there would probably be some significant reassignments in the upper echelons of the military around this part of the galaxy."
Daala looked away. "No," she muttered. "Not after what I've done. Why do you think I retired?" She looked back at Typhani then. "I don't know if I can face him." She recalled the many nightmares she'd had in which her former mentor would return and strike her hard across the face for her failure and promptly relieve her of her rank. Those nightmares had been coming to her for over a decade now, yet in their personal interactions he had never given any indication of such violence, at least not toward her. Daala had often wondered about the source of those images, and fought to gather the courage to ask Typhani a question she had wanted to ask her for some fifteen years now.
Typhani could tell she was troubled about something. "What is it, Daala? We're going to have to be open with each other, for Adrian's sake. I know that's going to be very difficult and awkward for both of us, but we have to try."
Daala nodded again. She lowered her voice again and moved a bit closer to Typhani. "Did he ever hit you?"
Typhani was taken aback such that she actually rolled backwards in her chair, her mouth dropping open in disbelief. She couldn't believe Daala was asking her such a thing, and instantly feared where the question might be coming from. "No! Never! Daala, Adrian never as much as raised his voice to me, let alone a hand!" She couldn't bear to consider the possibility for long, but she had to know. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
Daala shook her head, "No, of course not."
"Then why would you ask me such a terrible thing?" Typhani asked, regaining her position close to Daala.
Daala looked away. "I'm just afraid--"
Typhani broke in, reaching over to take Daala's wrist again. "I know how he used fear against people. Did he make you afraid that he would hurt you?"
Daala shook her head again. "Were you afraid of him?"
"No. I was afraid I would lose him to the war, but that was the only fear in our relationship," Typhani assured her. "So why all this talk about hurting one another?"
"It's just that when he finds out what Ive done and what a failure I am, he'll . . " She looked away again, clamming up.
"He'll be upset and disappointed and perhaps a little angry, but he will also want to understand what happened, and what has transpired since then. Daala, you're not a failure. Besides, did he ever talk to you about setbacks, about how they're opportunities to do more the second time around?" Typhani asked.
Daala smiled a bit then at the memory. "Yeah. Often," she said.
"Well, who knows what the two of you will accomplish the second time around," Typhani reassured her.
Daala looked askance at Typhani. Wrinkling her brow, she said, "But after what happened between us you can't possibly say that you approve of us working together again." The conversation had to take that awkward turn at some point.
Typhani let out a sigh, averted her gaze, and shook her head. "There's also something very painful I have to tell you." She reached up and put a warm hand on the side of Daala's face. "Oh, Daala, it was so unfair to you. We should have both told you--asked you--from the beginning . . . Everything turned out so wrong!"
"What?" Daala demanded, squinting her green eyes at Typhani.
"This is . . .very difficult for me. What happened between you two was my fault--our fault. If it had ended up ruining our marriage, we deserved it." Typhani drew another deep breath, then continued. "I had three miscarriages before Lyjéa was born. I had two more miscarriages before Lyscithea was born. That last pregnancy and the delivery were extremely difficult and high-risk. When Scythi was born, I--well, my uterus ruptured and I nearly bled out. They had to do an emergency hysterectomy to save my life. Adrian and I always wanted a large family. We'd had a very bad experience earlier on with an adopted child that we eventually had to send away, so we didn't want to go that route again. Back then, full-term artificial incubation caused so many deformities and health problems that we didn't want to take that approach either, let alone take our chances with an egg from an unknown source. That approach was as bad as cloning turned out to be, if you recall. And, because I am Phelarian and my ovarian ducts were part of my uterus, my eggs were destroyed after Lyscithea was born. Of course, we didn't want to draw publicity or other unwanted attention to ourselves by going through an agency or the like to locate someone to help us. We, quite frankly, didn't want anyone to know we needed that kind of help, especially other branches of our family. I'm not sure if you knew or not, but Admiral Raolf Motti, Adrian's second-in-command on the station, was my first cousin." Typhani averted her eyes from Daala's gaze. "So, to keep the situation as quiet as possible, we decided that Adrian would find someone--someone young and healthy and intelligent, who shared our ideals, and who at least looked like one of us, and, well . . . " White rage began to rise up in Daala's throat, but Typhani continued before she could say anything. "We were both so excited when he got back from Carida! He said that not only had he linked up with someone who would be an invaluable colleague, but that you were female, not male as the profile indicated, and that he'd found our perfect surrogate."
Daala rose to her feet, drew up her fists and spoke through clenched teeth,. "An incubator! That's all I was--a blasted incubator?"
Typhani's head sank. "I certainly hope not, Daala. I had told him at the outset to be kind to you, and not to treat you like an object. But I don't know what actually happened between you two. You will have to search your own heart for the answer to that."
"And what were you going to do with me when the baby was born, assuming I wanted to give it to you! Kill me? Take the rest of my eggs if I produced an acceptable offspring?" Daala seethed.
"No, Daala, no. I do know what the plan was. We thought that you were the type of person whose career meant everything to you, and that a baby would be a most unwelcome responsibility. The plan was that Adrian would simply take the baby away--take care of the problem for you--and you would continue your career. You were too valuable to him--to the Empire--to throw away like that."
"Great! So I was this wonderful two-in-one package! That's just great! I do not believe I am hearing this! I have never heard anything so blasted presumptuous in my entire life!" Daala threw her arms in the air, her hair flew wildly, and she began to pace around the conference room. She felt that she had been used and abused by men all of her life, except for one man, the one person who had looked past her tribulations at the Imperial Military Academy, past her gender, and saved her from a life of undeserved mediocrity, who had been her confidante, listened to her ideas, trusted her (as much as he could ever trust anyone), and given her immense power, someone she admired, idolized, perhaps loved, and who she thought held a similar regard for her--she had saved herself for him, only to have him taken away, then given back, and now to have all of the perceptions she had held for most of her life shattered in a matter of moments!
Shortly after the Battle of Yavin, Typhani had tried to find Daala, concerned that she may have become recently pregnant. When she couldn't find her, she had simply assumed that Daala had gone with the station. Then, when the scandal finally broke, naturally rumors and speculation circulated about whether Daala may have become pregnant by her former mentor. At that point, Typhani had again searched for the elusive little twelve-year-old she had hoped would be there, another living link to her beloved Adrian. Nothing. "But it didn't turn out like that, did it, Daala," Typhani reminded her, trying to maintain a calm and low tone.
Daala spun around, her dark copper hair flowing in swirls about her body. "No, it didn't! It certainly did not! I was careful to prevent that sort of thing!" she seethed. Then she realized, thinking back, that he had figured out her cycle, and timed his visits to the Installation accordingly.
She walked behind Typhani, then turned on her heel when she noticed something. She marched up behind Typhani and jerked loose the large, jeweled, silver shell clip that held her own long, jet-black tresses in place, and tossed the clip onto the table. Typhani's hair dropped in ebony falls around her shoulders and down the back of the chair, reaching well below the seat. She let out a quick, tight scream and reached for her head, afraid that Daala was about to attack her with all the ferocity of a Rancor.
Daala snorted. She walked back around to face Typhani. "He had a thing for long hair!" she observed sarcastically, now understanding his comments about never having to crop her hair short again.
"Yes," Typhani admitted.
Looking down at Typhani, with her jet tresses cascading about her, Daala then noticed the more than slight resemblance between them. "Well, isn't that terrific! I was young, healthy, intelligent, and looked like you!" Daala turned her back to Typhani and folded her arms across her chest.
Typhani tentatively tried to continue the conversation. "Daala, I know how you must feel," she began.
Daala whirled. "You could not possibly know how I feel!" she retorted. She was angry beyond rage, and her right hand went to her chest as a persistent deep burning threatened to rise up within her and cut off her air.
"How do you think I felt! I felt so inadequate and defective! Why do you think I would ever suggest such a scheme, let alone agree to it! Why in the universe would I knowingly send my own husband willingly into another woman's bed! I was the failure, Daala! It was my own infertile body that failed my husband and our family! And then--then when your relationship turned into something far more than either of us had ever anticipated . . ." She shook her head as if to clear her mind. "He tried to hide it, but I knew! Had Yavin not intervened, I might well have been the one cast aside, if you know what I mean."
Daala's rage ebbed a bit then, as she managed to draw a deep breath. "No," she said, turning back to face Typhani, "No, no, he would have never done that, not to you."
In her heart, Typhani knew that was true, but she couldn't fathom how Daala knew. "The two of you talked about me?" she asked.
"He said you were soul mates," Daala told her.
"Yes. Everyone always said that about us, even from the beginning. Thats why I cant understand how you two--got as far as you did."
Daala knew. "Typhani, things got out of hand between us because of work. He used to tell me that the two of you had to be careful not to lose touch with each other, with you occupied with your business and the Mining Guild and him with the war. We both had the war, could gripe about the same subordinates, the same Rebels, the same political muck going on in the Senate, and we shared the same interest in military tactics. Wed start talking, and well, inevitably, one thing would lead to another, and, and . . ." Of course she need not explain further. At that point, Typhani realized that part of their mistake had been in choosing someone who had too much in common with both of them.
Daala wanted another answer. "Typhani, why didn't you just ask me? The whole thing could have been done artificially, and none of this would have ever happened," she asked.
"Well, after the way you had been treated on Carida, we were afraid you'd see that as further exploitation. Daala, believe me when I tell you that you got your rank on your merits. I have some inside knowledge about that, although I did not know where you had been assigned. We didnt want you to think that you had to do favors for us--especially one of that magnitude--to keep your position." Typhani explained.
"But what you two ended up doing was real exploitation, Typhani! Don't you think I feel exploited right now, hearing about this?" Daala demanded.
"I know, and I certainly don't blame you for being angry. We've all three hurt each other very badly, but now circumstances dictate that we have to try to heal, for Adrians sake and--and for the good of the Empire." Typhani told her.
"Oh, I've heard that before," Daala retorted sarcastically.
"I have had to make many sacrifices myself for the good of the Empire, Daala," Typhani reminded her. She hesitated. "You know, we share the same experiences of seeing Adrian leave us each time he would go to the war, never knowing if he would come back again. We've had the same knots in our stomachs, haven't we?"
Daala nodded.
Typhani continued. "And then, he didn't come back. We have both lost so many years with him. After the first Death Star, I had to take the major role in deciding whether to let him go or to use the carbonite. I chose the carbonite when his sister reminded me of what he wanted most, and we both know what that is. And now I have agreed to bring him out of the carbonite to give him that chance. Do you know the old adage about loving someone enough to let him go? Daala, I know that circumstances may not go my way in the end, and that I may lose him all over again by involving you, but, out of my love for him, I have to give him the best possible opportunity to achieve his dream of becoming Emperor. You are the only person we know who can fill in all of the gaps and give him the full continuity of knowledge that he will need to rebuild and rule the Empire." Her head dropped again, and she wiped a small tearlet from each eye.
Daala sat back down. "You really are soul mates," she said. They sat in silence for a few moments.
"Will you help us?" Typhani finally asked.
Daala felt very much put on the spot. She had adopted a neutral stance in the entire Imperial Remnant/New Republic mess since her final retirement after her "encounter" in battle with Garn Bel Iblis about eight years previous--not so much neutral, in fact, than indifferent. She had long since decided that it was time to look out for Daala instead of trying and failing so many times to protect the interests of others. Still, she contemplated, her deepest loyalties still lay with the Empire--with the old school Empire--and ultimately with the one person who had ever believed in her. Were her loyalties not intact, she reasoned, she would have long since destroyed what she held.
No, she was no longer an Admiral, had no fleet, had lost her fleet, the lab, and so much more, and had not had the benefit of Wilhuff Tarkin's steady-handed guidance and inspiration for twenty-five years. But when she looked inside herself, what she had gained from all of those experiences was enough to make her a self-assured, independent woman who had not stewed to death in resentment and frustration, who had gained enough self-confidence and self-respect to take her own stance, enough so as to wash her hands of the galactic infighting and say so, to commune with whomever she chose whenever, and to help or not help others as she pleased. She had gained much from the entire situation, despite any ulterior motives that might have existed, and, after all, never came to fruition anyway. If that ulterior motive had been his only objective, she knew, she would be long dead by now, and her child at Typhani's side. That hidden agenda still angered her, and the sensible side of herself wanted badly to decline, but the emotionally driven thought of being reunited with Adrian in any way, even in a mentor/protégé sort of way, even in the brief time she had left, overwhelmed her sensibilities.
When she first came to Pedducis Chorios, all Daala had wanted, in her own words, was a place to live out the rest of her life where she would not be disturbed. That, of course, did not happen, as she was disturbed time and again by her own inner callings as well as those from outside. And now that she faced the possibility of her end far sooner than she had expected, she really did not want to die on the drab and dusty world.
There was something inviting about Typhani as well, a similar, guiding, protective energy that she'd also sensed from Adrian. Something unseen seemed to be telling her to go with Typhani, to go with her back to Adrian, to help them and let them help her, that they could perhaps save her. The survival of her greatest treasure--and likely her greatest accomplishment and contribution to the Empire--certainly depended upon taking Typhani's hand and crossing the perilous bridge back to her past, back to the time when it had been glorious and successful. She had almost forgotten what that felt like--almost, but not completely. A small glimmer of that pride still flickered within her, and it illuminated her memories of Adrian and all that he had helped her achieve.
Daala finally nodded to Typhani. "I wouldn't be where I am today--who I am today--if . . . " She looked away.
"I know," Typhani acknowledged.
"C'mon," Daala said, motioning for Typhani to follow her. "I'd like to show you some things." Then she turned back to the table. "Here's you clip. Where do you get these? They seem to work really well."
Together they walked through one of the breezeways into the main house. The interior of Daala's private residence reflected its rustic and "outdoorsy" exterior, with stone floors covered here and there with native-woven rugs, and a huge stone fireplace comprising one whole wall, a spectacular decorative mandala of feathers in blues and greens and purples hanging above the mantle. An eclectic gathering of simple, low, comfortable, yet largely unupholstered furniture filled the rooms, and clusters of various types of clay pots with shrubby native plants in them sat on the floor in the corners and under the low, expansive windows. Typhani could also not help but notice that the house was rather dusty, messy, and unkempt. She noticed the dirty dishes piled up in the kitchen as they passed the open doorway, and two piles of obviously dirty laundry on the floor in a front bedroom. There was no sign of a servant or household droid anywhere.
Typhani followed Daala into her study, and she proceeded to a section of data tapes on a shelf on the back wall. "I have the only copies of these," she said, "other than the backups I made. Every one of his prerecorded lecture series for the Academy."
Typhani knew the only known complete and intact set of the series had been lost on Carida. "You see, Daala, it's things like this that will be so helpful to him," she said, running her hand over the spines of the cases containing the recordings.
"Oh, there's lots more where that came from," Daala said as she went to her desk and removed a small key. She unlocked a fire-shielded cabinet below an expanse of bookshelves. Inside was a large safe. Daala quickly entered the combination and pulled the door open. "No one knows I have these," she said. Inside were four huge computer data cells; each cell could hold millions--perhaps billions--of pages of data. Typhani recognized the cells, but their significance was as yet lost on her.
"What are they?" she asked.
"I core-dumped the lab's computers. I pulled everything into the Gorgon's computer banks before I high-tailed it out of there," Daala explained.
"Everything?" Typhani asked breathily, stooping close to examine the data cells.
"From the first day we brought the systems up to the day I had to, well . . ." Daala assured her, but looked away at the mention of the destruction of the lab.
"This is incredible, Daala. Don't you see, you have done your duty. It wasn't the physical structure of the lab itself that was so important. It was this! You were assigned to protect it, and you have! You have done your duty, and you are not a failure!"
"No, I guess not," Daala admitted finally to herself aloud, with a bit of a smile. "When I found out he wasn't coming back, I, uh, I retrieved some things from his rooms at the Installation. There are some other things, but I don't know if you . . ."
"No, it's all right. Please, show me," Typhani insisted.
Daala walked to the other end of the room and opened up another lower cabinet. From an interior shelf, she removed a neatly folded throw, smaller that a blanket but larger than a shawl or scarf, with a type of faux fur textile on one side and a smooth, dark blue lining with silver flecks in it on the other. One corner appeared to have been burned, and then repaired. "He was so cold-natured," Daala remembered. "He used to carry this thing around--usually took it with him--but he must have inadvertently left it behind when he left the lab the last time. He and Bevel left in such a hurry, and housekeeping had folded it and put it across the foot of the bed." She had been unfolding the throw as she talked and so she didn't notice the pensive expression on Typhani's face or that she was reaching for it with both hands. Daala extended it to her, albeit reluctantly, and Typhani took hold of it in large, embracing handfuls and clutched it to her, eventually raising it to her face. Then Daala realized that Typhani was crying into the blanket. "See, I knew I was going to upset you," she said.
Typhani pulled the throw away from her face. "No, I'm not upset! It's just that I have the other one, and we've had these with us since the first time--since we first met! I turned our houses upside down looking for this, and I thought it had gone with the station!"
Next Daala pulled out a small, silver, shell-encrusted picture frame that contained a holoplate of Lyjéa and Lyscithea when they were about nine and seven years old. She thought back to the time right after the Rebels first arrived in the Maw and told her the unthinkable. Late in the night, after her meetings with Tol Sivron and others, she had gone back down to the Installation, to Adrian's quarters, sealed herself inside, then fell across the bed in devastated sobs. She remembered taking the picture of the girls, and then staring into Typhani's picture for a long time, wondering what kind of horror she must have gone though, and if she and the girls were all right. The awful thought had then occurred to her that they might have been on the Death Star as well. She dared not ask the Rebels about their welfare, but she had checked on them straight away after her first battle.
"Oh, that's a good one. I remember framing it," Typhani said, looking over Daala's shoulder at the holoplate of her daughters.
Daala was introspective for a moment. "What are they like?" she asked.
"You'll meet them," Typhani assured her.
"How is . . ." Daala asked, stroking Lyjéa's image with her finger.
"Oh, she does fine. She got tenure last year," Typhani said with a smile of pride as she draped the throw over her arm.
"When are they going to do it?" Daala asked.
"What?" Typhani asked.
"Bring him out of the carbonite," Daala reminded her. The reminiscences and revelations had taken them away from the main purpose of Typhani's visit.
Typhani winced visibly. The time was drawing so very close, and she was growing more nervous by the day. "Next week," she said, the concern coming through in her voice.
"Okay," Daala said. "Let's bring him home." Then she smiled openly. "Let's bring back our Empire!"
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