Chapter 5:
Last Night Alone
Before her mother had told them everything, Lyscithea had rehearsed at least a hundred pieces of her mind that she intended to give to the infamous and illustrious Admiral Daala should they ever meet. Daala, on the other hand, greeted Lyjéa and Lyscithea warmly. "I'm so glad to finally meet you two," she said. "I feel like I've known you since you were little."
"That's sooooo sweet," Lyscithea thought sarcastically, still wary of her mother's decision to involve Daala. Typhani had said nothing of the data cells.
For years, perhaps ever since the beginning, Daala had wondered about what it would be like to meet Adrian's family, particularly his daughters. He had told her a great deal about them, and she'd also heard much about them from other officers who had met them at banquets and conventions and such. The image of them she had in her mind was still of the two little girls in the silver-framed holoplate, the younger one holding fast to the older one's hand, the older girl not quite looking into the camera.
But now Daala marveled at the two grown women who faced her, who seemed in pose and stance much as images of their mother had seemed when she first met their father. In seeing them, she finally began to allow herself to believe that the forthcoming events were real. In them, she could see Adrian, in Lyjéa's high, prominent cheekbones and the telltale streaks of premature gray in her hair, and in Lyscithea's peircing blue Eriaduan eyes. It gave her comfort, helped her ease herself into the realization that the most important person in her life was not dead after all, and that she would soon be reunited with him.
"I can't tell you how many times my students and I stood jumping up and down in front of the holovision in my classroom rooting for you over the years!" Lyjéa greeted. "That hit on the Jedi Academy was spectacular! You hit them where it hurts, in the psyche, and you made those filthy Rebel scum Jedi vermin feel vulnerable! Of course, we knew what you were trying to do, and we've always been very grateful to you for it. You did for us what we couldn't do ourselves. But rest assured, we'd have been right alongside you if we'd had the chance!"
Daala cracked a soft smile at that, one that she knew Lyjéa couldn't see. "Believe me, you didn't want to be there," Daala assured her. "But for your father, I'd do it all over again!"
Morgana had been watching Daala from across the room, looking on at what she could have been. The younger, more successful woman brought back a lot of memories. Typhani stepped up to introduce the two.
"The Guardian of the Gatekeepers!" Morgana acknowledged.
"I don't understand," Daala replied.
"Something Adrian used to call you. A code name, I suppose," Morgana explained.
"I don't know. I never heard that," Daala revealed.
"Well, I suppose you know Adrian and his cryptic ways as well as any of us," Morgana observed.
"Yes, I suppose I do," Daala agreed, smiling softly again.
"As long as you know and keep your place this time . . . " Morgana thought.
As the afternoon progressed, conversations dwindled in the suite of apartments that the five women would use as a base of operations for the next few weeks--if all went well. As night fell, the imminent reality of tomorrow's events became more and more real to each of them. For Typhani, was the longing about to end, be prolonged again, or would it be snuffed out in ultimate grief? Daala nursed her own feelings of shame and inadequacy, and Lyjéa and Lyscithea had similar concerns of what their father would think of them. Had they lived up to his expectations? Morgana wondered whether she would continue to be alone, and if not, would her brother be the same? Of course, he couldn't be told right away that twenty- five years had elapsed, and he would have to be told before his daughters could see him. Typhani, Morgana, and Daala had each taken steps to make themselves look as much as possible like they did on the day of the Battle of Yavin. And, of course, he would have to be told about the lab before Daala could see him. Even though they knew it would be several days to weeks before he would even be aware enough to start assimilating any of these facts, they all wanted to be there when the carbonite melted away.
Lyjéa and Lyscithea were in Lyjéa's room having an intimate conversation when their mother came in on her way to bed. "Daala doesn't know how to dress," Lyscithea had been telling Lyjéa as Typhani walked in.
"She doesn't know how to decorate or properly direct housekeeping, either," Typhani told them as she sat down on the edge of the bed next to Lyjéa.
"Good. All things to our advantage," Lyscithea thought.
"If you had worn uniforms all of your life and been locked up in Dad's lab for fifteen years, you wouldn't know how to do those things yourselves," Lyjéa observed. "But she probably can't supervise a cook either."
"Girls, what do you think now that she's here?" Typhani asked.
"I don't know, Mom. On the one hand, I can see where she'll be a big help to Dad. But on the other, after what happened, I just don't know," Lyscithea admitted.
"Scythi, I just don't see her as the type of person our father would have at his side at an official event. If she lacks style that badly . . . She just doesn't have that--that presence like Mother does," Lyjéa offered.
"Why thank you, Lyjéa," Typhani said sweetly.
"It's true! She comes across flat to me," Lyjéa continued.
"All right, then. Let's hope she turns out to be no more than a good military and historical advisor, which is the reason why I brought her here," Typhani said. At that point, they heard the water stop running in the adjacent suite, which signaled them to end their Daala-bashing session before it was overheard.
"Well, I guess I'd better be off to bed," Typhani said as she straightened her lotion-pink satinesque bathrobe and rose to leave.
"Mom," Lyscithea called after her. Typhani turned back slightly to face her daughter, putting her hand on the doorjamb. "Are you going to be all right tonight?"
Typhani closed her eyes. "No worse than the night your Uncle Darth brought me home and we told you that your father had died. That was the beginning of my ordeal. Let's just hope tonight is the end." With that, she turned and walked down the hall to her room.
"She won't sleep," Lyjéa said after she heard her mother's door close.
"I know. I'll check on her," Lyscithea replied. They started to continue their conversation when Lyscithea looked up and noticed Daala standing in the bedroom door wearing drab blue sweat suit-like pajamas and white military-issue socks, her hair wrapped in a towel. At that point, Lyscithea's curiosity overcame her suspicions, and she motioned for Daala to come into the room with them. She reluctantly did so, and took a seat in the other chair opposite Lyscithea.
The three were silent for a moment, then Lyjéa turned her face in Daala's direction. "Tell us about the lab," she suggested.
Typhani had, of course, not been completely asleep, but she became more alert when she heard bursts of laughter coming from the direction of Lyjéa's room. She quietly got up and crept down the hall, carefully looking around the doorjamb so as not to be detected.
"He was the stupidest Twi'lek I ever met!" Daala continued. "What your father ever saw in that nerd I know not! He used to sit at his desk and play like a little kid with the concept models the scientists would bring him. If you made him mad, he'd do this silly little thing with his head tails, like this," she demonstrated, twisting tendrils of her now-dry reddish hair around her fingers and wiggling them in the air. Lyjéa reached over to feel what she was doing, and they all three cackled again. "I used to tick him off just to get him to do it," Daala laughed.
"And then--oh Lyjéa, you're going to love this--there was this idiot Devaronian tech writer . . . "
Typhani turned and put her back to the wall, her right hand over her mouth. Seeing the three of them like that, chatting, laughing, sharing, like sisters, revealed to her the full scope of their error. Why, she lamented, why hadn't they seen it? If they had been able to start a family from the very beginning, she realized, and they had borne a daughter, she would be about Daala's age by now. If only Adrian had brought Daala home first instead of taking her directly to the lab, then maybe they would have seen that they should have just taken her under wing, instead of proceeding with their other plans! He had brought others home, she remembered, like that adorable little feather-haired Omwati girl. Why couldn't the shuttle schedules have been equally disrupted when he returned from Carida with Daala? They had made a terrible mistake, had hurt each other and an innocent third person who was very important to them, because they had not paid attention, having been so wrapped up in their own needs and desires that they had lost perspective. But, she thought with a twinge of hope, maybe all would be better the second time around.
Typhani eased herself back into her bed, moving instinctively to one side as she still did from time to time when she would think of Adrian in the night, clutching the other, empty pillow. He was so close to her now, closer than he had been in so many years, and she reached out to him with her mind and her heart. She had always tried not to think of him in the carbonite, knowing how much aversion he had to the cold and to small spaces. She hoped he didn't remember any of it, as Viorska had assured her that he would not.
Her very fingertips tingled at the thought of touching him again; her arms ached to hold him. As that last night wore on, her longing only intensified, as if those last few hours seemed as long as the last few years. She had often thought of what might have been if they'd had no children, or if the girls had been grown and on their own by the Battle of Yavin. Had either case been true, Typhani reflected, she would have insisted that Viorska encapsulate her as well as her husband, so that they could return together, picking up their lives where they had left off.
Such had not been, though. Typhani had two young daughters to think of, and Rivoche was still under her wing at the time as well. She had other responsibilities as well, providing the Empire with megonite and maintaining Imperial control of Phelarion, hosting official events, and helping in whatever way she could after the Battle of Endor. She had saved a number of Imperial lives by prividing safe refuge to fleeing officers and their families as the New Republic took over former Imperial worlds. She'd been an advisor and a sounding board to others, including Ysanne Isard, Gilad Pellaeon, and Ian Thrawn. Often, the others would not act without her feedback and approval.
She had carried on alone, with a strength others found astounding-- the strength of a Grand Moff. Indeed, she had pinned her husband's insignia to her own grament many times in private when she needed endurance, confidence, and resolve. She had kept it all safe for him, for a time when he might return and restore the Galactic Empire to the glory it once knew.
Last Night Alone
Before her mother had told them everything, Lyscithea had rehearsed at least a hundred pieces of her mind that she intended to give to the infamous and illustrious Admiral Daala should they ever meet. Daala, on the other hand, greeted Lyjéa and Lyscithea warmly. "I'm so glad to finally meet you two," she said. "I feel like I've known you since you were little."
"That's sooooo sweet," Lyscithea thought sarcastically, still wary of her mother's decision to involve Daala. Typhani had said nothing of the data cells.
For years, perhaps ever since the beginning, Daala had wondered about what it would be like to meet Adrian's family, particularly his daughters. He had told her a great deal about them, and she'd also heard much about them from other officers who had met them at banquets and conventions and such. The image of them she had in her mind was still of the two little girls in the silver-framed holoplate, the younger one holding fast to the older one's hand, the older girl not quite looking into the camera.
But now Daala marveled at the two grown women who faced her, who seemed in pose and stance much as images of their mother had seemed when she first met their father. In seeing them, she finally began to allow herself to believe that the forthcoming events were real. In them, she could see Adrian, in Lyjéa's high, prominent cheekbones and the telltale streaks of premature gray in her hair, and in Lyscithea's peircing blue Eriaduan eyes. It gave her comfort, helped her ease herself into the realization that the most important person in her life was not dead after all, and that she would soon be reunited with him.
"I can't tell you how many times my students and I stood jumping up and down in front of the holovision in my classroom rooting for you over the years!" Lyjéa greeted. "That hit on the Jedi Academy was spectacular! You hit them where it hurts, in the psyche, and you made those filthy Rebel scum Jedi vermin feel vulnerable! Of course, we knew what you were trying to do, and we've always been very grateful to you for it. You did for us what we couldn't do ourselves. But rest assured, we'd have been right alongside you if we'd had the chance!"
Daala cracked a soft smile at that, one that she knew Lyjéa couldn't see. "Believe me, you didn't want to be there," Daala assured her. "But for your father, I'd do it all over again!"
Morgana had been watching Daala from across the room, looking on at what she could have been. The younger, more successful woman brought back a lot of memories. Typhani stepped up to introduce the two.
"The Guardian of the Gatekeepers!" Morgana acknowledged.
"I don't understand," Daala replied.
"Something Adrian used to call you. A code name, I suppose," Morgana explained.
"I don't know. I never heard that," Daala revealed.
"Well, I suppose you know Adrian and his cryptic ways as well as any of us," Morgana observed.
"Yes, I suppose I do," Daala agreed, smiling softly again.
"As long as you know and keep your place this time . . . " Morgana thought.
As the afternoon progressed, conversations dwindled in the suite of apartments that the five women would use as a base of operations for the next few weeks--if all went well. As night fell, the imminent reality of tomorrow's events became more and more real to each of them. For Typhani, was the longing about to end, be prolonged again, or would it be snuffed out in ultimate grief? Daala nursed her own feelings of shame and inadequacy, and Lyjéa and Lyscithea had similar concerns of what their father would think of them. Had they lived up to his expectations? Morgana wondered whether she would continue to be alone, and if not, would her brother be the same? Of course, he couldn't be told right away that twenty- five years had elapsed, and he would have to be told before his daughters could see him. Typhani, Morgana, and Daala had each taken steps to make themselves look as much as possible like they did on the day of the Battle of Yavin. And, of course, he would have to be told about the lab before Daala could see him. Even though they knew it would be several days to weeks before he would even be aware enough to start assimilating any of these facts, they all wanted to be there when the carbonite melted away.
Lyjéa and Lyscithea were in Lyjéa's room having an intimate conversation when their mother came in on her way to bed. "Daala doesn't know how to dress," Lyscithea had been telling Lyjéa as Typhani walked in.
"She doesn't know how to decorate or properly direct housekeeping, either," Typhani told them as she sat down on the edge of the bed next to Lyjéa.
"Good. All things to our advantage," Lyscithea thought.
"If you had worn uniforms all of your life and been locked up in Dad's lab for fifteen years, you wouldn't know how to do those things yourselves," Lyjéa observed. "But she probably can't supervise a cook either."
"Girls, what do you think now that she's here?" Typhani asked.
"I don't know, Mom. On the one hand, I can see where she'll be a big help to Dad. But on the other, after what happened, I just don't know," Lyscithea admitted.
"Scythi, I just don't see her as the type of person our father would have at his side at an official event. If she lacks style that badly . . . She just doesn't have that--that presence like Mother does," Lyjéa offered.
"Why thank you, Lyjéa," Typhani said sweetly.
"It's true! She comes across flat to me," Lyjéa continued.
"All right, then. Let's hope she turns out to be no more than a good military and historical advisor, which is the reason why I brought her here," Typhani said. At that point, they heard the water stop running in the adjacent suite, which signaled them to end their Daala-bashing session before it was overheard.
"Well, I guess I'd better be off to bed," Typhani said as she straightened her lotion-pink satinesque bathrobe and rose to leave.
"Mom," Lyscithea called after her. Typhani turned back slightly to face her daughter, putting her hand on the doorjamb. "Are you going to be all right tonight?"
Typhani closed her eyes. "No worse than the night your Uncle Darth brought me home and we told you that your father had died. That was the beginning of my ordeal. Let's just hope tonight is the end." With that, she turned and walked down the hall to her room.
"She won't sleep," Lyjéa said after she heard her mother's door close.
"I know. I'll check on her," Lyscithea replied. They started to continue their conversation when Lyscithea looked up and noticed Daala standing in the bedroom door wearing drab blue sweat suit-like pajamas and white military-issue socks, her hair wrapped in a towel. At that point, Lyscithea's curiosity overcame her suspicions, and she motioned for Daala to come into the room with them. She reluctantly did so, and took a seat in the other chair opposite Lyscithea.
The three were silent for a moment, then Lyjéa turned her face in Daala's direction. "Tell us about the lab," she suggested.
Typhani had, of course, not been completely asleep, but she became more alert when she heard bursts of laughter coming from the direction of Lyjéa's room. She quietly got up and crept down the hall, carefully looking around the doorjamb so as not to be detected.
"He was the stupidest Twi'lek I ever met!" Daala continued. "What your father ever saw in that nerd I know not! He used to sit at his desk and play like a little kid with the concept models the scientists would bring him. If you made him mad, he'd do this silly little thing with his head tails, like this," she demonstrated, twisting tendrils of her now-dry reddish hair around her fingers and wiggling them in the air. Lyjéa reached over to feel what she was doing, and they all three cackled again. "I used to tick him off just to get him to do it," Daala laughed.
"And then--oh Lyjéa, you're going to love this--there was this idiot Devaronian tech writer . . . "
Typhani turned and put her back to the wall, her right hand over her mouth. Seeing the three of them like that, chatting, laughing, sharing, like sisters, revealed to her the full scope of their error. Why, she lamented, why hadn't they seen it? If they had been able to start a family from the very beginning, she realized, and they had borne a daughter, she would be about Daala's age by now. If only Adrian had brought Daala home first instead of taking her directly to the lab, then maybe they would have seen that they should have just taken her under wing, instead of proceeding with their other plans! He had brought others home, she remembered, like that adorable little feather-haired Omwati girl. Why couldn't the shuttle schedules have been equally disrupted when he returned from Carida with Daala? They had made a terrible mistake, had hurt each other and an innocent third person who was very important to them, because they had not paid attention, having been so wrapped up in their own needs and desires that they had lost perspective. But, she thought with a twinge of hope, maybe all would be better the second time around.
Typhani eased herself back into her bed, moving instinctively to one side as she still did from time to time when she would think of Adrian in the night, clutching the other, empty pillow. He was so close to her now, closer than he had been in so many years, and she reached out to him with her mind and her heart. She had always tried not to think of him in the carbonite, knowing how much aversion he had to the cold and to small spaces. She hoped he didn't remember any of it, as Viorska had assured her that he would not.
Her very fingertips tingled at the thought of touching him again; her arms ached to hold him. As that last night wore on, her longing only intensified, as if those last few hours seemed as long as the last few years. She had often thought of what might have been if they'd had no children, or if the girls had been grown and on their own by the Battle of Yavin. Had either case been true, Typhani reflected, she would have insisted that Viorska encapsulate her as well as her husband, so that they could return together, picking up their lives where they had left off.
Such had not been, though. Typhani had two young daughters to think of, and Rivoche was still under her wing at the time as well. She had other responsibilities as well, providing the Empire with megonite and maintaining Imperial control of Phelarion, hosting official events, and helping in whatever way she could after the Battle of Endor. She had saved a number of Imperial lives by prividing safe refuge to fleeing officers and their families as the New Republic took over former Imperial worlds. She'd been an advisor and a sounding board to others, including Ysanne Isard, Gilad Pellaeon, and Ian Thrawn. Often, the others would not act without her feedback and approval.
She had carried on alone, with a strength others found astounding-- the strength of a Grand Moff. Indeed, she had pinned her husband's insignia to her own grament many times in private when she needed endurance, confidence, and resolve. She had kept it all safe for him, for a time when he might return and restore the Galactic Empire to the glory it once knew.