Chapter 7:
Reunion
Rohmm Cydras knocked softly on the lounge door as he entered again in the wee hours of the morning. His last two reports had been good. The decarbonization process itself had gone smoothly, and stabilization had begun, with three medical teams working simultaneously. Everyone rose to face him, five breaths held in the night. But he was smiling. Rohmm had impressed upon them that he was a bright, witty, kind young man, a native of Coruscant, with an upbeat sense of humor, but a steady hold on reality as well.
"I am happy to report that the Emperor is now out of recovery, and we're about to move this mission to the critical care unit. We got in and got the major problems straight away this time," he reported. Rohmm could sense the tension in the room lift among the sighs of relief. "I'm going to take you in two groups now. So, if the Empress and the First Sister of the Imperial Remnant will follow me . . . " he said, opening the door and extending his hand into the hallway.
Again, there was little they could see amid the droids and dressings and monitoring machines. "Let me just explain a couple of things," Rohmm began quietly. "Now he was trying to take a few breaths on his own, but he wasn't doing very well, so we've got him on the respirator to save his strength. The more work we can do for him right now, the more energy can go toward healing," he explained. "And he's got the sleep shade on because we've learned that if we introduce light very slowly, and only for an increasingly limited amount of time each day, it minimizes or even eliminates the problem of reduced vision from long-term encapsulation. That has to stay put for now. Don't move it."
Morgana took a tentative step forward and leaned over her brother. "Welcome back, Adrian," she said softly, then to Rohmm, "You don't know how relieved I am."
"Yes, ma'am, I think I do. But I don't want to give you any false hope. This isn't over yet," he cautioned her.
Typhani stood in a sphere all her own. She hadn't even heard Rohmm and Morgana. It seemed as though a howling winter Phelarian storm-wind shrieked around her, and that a veil of cold, damp, suffocating fog a quarter century thick was finally beginning to dissipate.
"If you'll come along so I can bring the others in," Rohmm suggested, "and then you can cycle in and out in ones and twos."
Of course, Typhani wanted so badly to go to him at that point, but she knew if she did, they would never be able to pull her away. The girls needed to see their father, and Daala needed to see first-hand what the Rebels had done. Then she would come back. Morgana stepped out of the room and Typhani reluctantly followed.
Five minutes later, Lyjéa and Lyscithea Tarkin stood before their father for the first time in their adult lives. Lyjéa had always been the stoic one, but now she groped forward toward her father to touch him somehow, to make sure he was really there after all this time. "Scythi, help me!" she cried.
"No, Lyjéa, don't. Not yet," Lyscithea cautioned her.
"It's probably a good idea to wait. We don't want to risk introducing too much outside stimulation until we're sure he's stable and past the memory rush. It can make the confusion worse if you intervene," Rohmm explained gently, but he could understand Lyjéa's need, and felt bad for her at that moment.
"Scythi, is he really there," Lyjéa cried, reaching toward the sound of her sister's voice.
Lyscithea drew her close. "Yeah, Lyjéa. He's really there," she reassured her as tears began to streak her own cheeks. Lyjéa leaned into her younger sister, extending her free hand in the direction of her father. All of these years she'd done without it, done without that protective contact she had always known to be there when she had reached for it as a child, through all of her own painful eye surgeries and endless treatments and various droids and sensing devices and other gadgets that didn't work, and visor systems and other artificial vision contraptions that equally didn't work and only caused her more pain and disappointment . . .
Daala had been standing behind them, fixated on the image before her, an inner rage burning again because she could presently do nothing to help him. "Oh, Adrian, what have those dispicable Rebels done to you," she whispered as she took a step forward to put a caring hand on Lyjéa's shoulder. She suddenly felt out of place, as if she was intruding on a moment that should belong only to his daughters. "I'll leave you two alone now," she said softly, then stepped quietly out of the room. That impressed Lyscithea, who had been inwardly resenting the fact that she and her sister had to share their reunion with their father with someone outside the family.
For the next day and a half, they cycled in and out, but were cautioned to stay back and not to say anything alarming. Finally, when the medcenter staff was sure the memory effects of the carbonite had passed, Rohmm came to the lounge to get Typhani. "Start talking to him," he said. "Bring us back our Emperor!"
At last, Typhani slipped into the room alone with her husband. Slowly, she sat down next to him, hardly believing that it was real after so much time. She wanted so very badly to gather him up in her arms and hold him close, but there were too many things in the way, too many monitors and machines, too many lines that couldn't be disturbed, and too many bandages, dressings, and splints, and so she had to be very careful not to disturb him too much. She leaned close, and with her right hand slightly trembling, she reached through the rails to make contact with him, the back of her hand coming to rest gently against the side of his head at the temple, and she reached through with her left hand to carefully grasp his wrist at the pulse point. Then, she closed her eyes and began to visualize their symbiotic energies coursing through each other again. The reconnection was instantaneous for her. She could feel him, his essence, and she knew that he was still there.
Finally, she let the upper rail down and leaned closer to him, speaking softly, "Adrian, you've been in a very bad accident, it's all right now. I'm here, and so are Morgana and the girls. We need you to come back to us now, and the Empire needs you very much as well."
As everyone expected, Typhani would not leave her husband. She hadn't been back to their suite of apartments in a nearby corporate complex for days, and so one corner of their lounge at the medcenter became devoted to Typhani's luggage and other essentials. The medcenter staff knew that there would be no compromising with the Empress on this matter, so they quickly put a second bed in Adrian's room for her.
She couldn't fathom how he was going to get any better, though, with doctors and nurses and droids--droids upon droids--in and out all the time, checking this and adjusting that, changing his position every two to three hours, monitoring him carefully for pain and stress, and responding in droves to even the slightest change in his condition. They would be left alone for no more than two standard hours at a time, and the traffic quickly began to wear upon Typhani as well, although she understood the necessity of it all.
Occasionally, Daala and the girls would slip in quietly, and as soon as the thought it was safe, Typhani took Lyjéa's hand and put it in her father's. Morgana, on the other hand, began to take a more aggressive approach when, after ten days, there had been no change whatsoever in his level of awareness.
"Adrian!" she said sternly, leaning close over her brother. "Whlhuff Adrian Tarkin, you wake up, right now! The Rebels are getting way out of hand, and you need to crack down hard!" Nothing. She tried again later, something she remembered that had always been failsafe during their long teenage years back in their family's expansive compound on Eriadu. "Adrian, wake up! Dinner's ready!" Typhani chuckled a bit at that. "Well, it always worked before," Morgana said with good humor as she sat down opposite Typhani and took her brother's hand.
After another five days, they began to fear that the neurobooster was not going to work. When she was alone with him, Typhani made contact with him, touching him, holding him, however she could, careful not to disturb anything, and she tried to send him as much energy as she could muster. At three weeks, they increased the concentration on the neurobooster, and waited . . .
With her hands clasped behind her back, Daala paced the floor of the lounge as if it were the bridge of a Star Destroyer. She eventually stopped to face Typhani, and pounded her right fist into her left palm. "Never give up! Never gve up! Never give up! If I heard that once from him, I heard it a thousand times a day! I can't understand why he's giving up like this!" she said, frustrated.
"I don't know, Daala. It's almost as if he doesn't have enough strength to reach some sort of threshold or something. If he could just get to a certain point of awareness, I think he'd be all right," she said.
Daala stooped down in front of Typhani. "If you can get him to that threshold," she said as if making battle plans with her best commander, "I can get him to fight."
"I have a few ideas," Typhani said, and reached into one of her bags for her mobile transponder. "You're frustrated, Daala. This sin't something you can ram full force or shoot turbolasers at, is it?"
"No, it's not," she said as she resumed her seat next to Typhani. "But I suppose it's my most important battle yet. That means I have to win this one, no matter what. 'Can't lose the ship this time."
"Daala, don't think like that," Typhani comforted her. "Adrian probably never told you about the battle of Zonama Sekot because he never had reason to. When he's better, and you're reviewing your battles, as I'm sure you will, ask him about that one. We had just gotten married, and it was a disaster! You should have seen him when he got back. He was despondent for days!" Typhani's connection went through, and she spoke to Raycellna. "I need for you to upload some recordings for me," she said, and began to reel off names of various family holotapes. That gave Daala and idea. Perhaps hearing some of his lecture series for the Academy would spark something.
Daala entered the code for her residence on her own transponder, but there was no answer. "Where the hell is he?" she thought, annoyed. She tried again about an hour later, and then another. Nothing. More frustrated than concerned, she entered another code and stepped out into the empty corridor for some privacy. Stroma Veers, her second-in-command at the colony, promptly answered her comm. "Stroma, it's Daala," she began. "Have you seen Liegeus?"
"Why, yes." Stroma answered. "I was by your house just a couple of days ago. He was packing and loading a lot of bags and boxes. I assumed he was going to join you. Is everything all right? How is your conference going?"
Daala was silent for a moment. "Uh . . . listen, I'm actually on my way home. I should be there late tomorrow. Thanks, Stroma," she said, then switched off her transponder. In her gut, she knew what had happened. She went to find Typhani.
"I'm going to have to run home," she said, "but I'll be right back. You calling for those holotapes gave me an idea. I'll bring the lecture series back with me."
"Go ahead, it's all right," Typhani assured her.
"I'll only be a couple of days, but if anything happens, if he gets worse . . ." Daala said.
"I'll let you know," Typhani assured her, assuming that Daala needed to go home to attend to some important business concerning her colony.
When Daala arrived home on Pedducis Chorios, her house was dark, and there was no sign of Liegeus. With some hesitation, she stepped into her living room and activated the lights. On the hall table lay two remotes to the house's keypads and a holocube. Daala rubbed her aching temples for a moment, and ran her hands through her hair. Her breath grew short as that deep burning in her chest became prevalent again. She set the holocube on the coffee table and sat down opposite it. Their relationship had not been good lately. The unbridled passion of their unexpected reunion had been all too brief, and their relationship had been on again, off again for several years now. True, she had missed his company, and his conversation, during her career with the Empire. When they were reunited after so long, she had looked forward to, as she had put it, having someone to talk to. But her experiences with the Empire, and with Adrian in particular, had done something to her, as if the switches on her brain had been permanently and irreversibly turned up several notches, such that she and Liegeus of late actually had very little in common. And, Liegeus had long since grown very, very weary of all the talk of Tarkin.
With a sigh, Daala activated the holocube. A miniature Liegeus in hologram appeared inside the cube. He was looking down, and a moment passed before he began to speak. Finally, he looked up. "Daala, this isn't working, and I have to get on with my life," he began. "For years, I've told you and told you that I can't compete with a ghost. I won't compete with a ghost." He was silent for another moment, then continued, "I know that Typhani Tarkin came out to see you a couple of weeks ago, and that you've been on the comm with her too much ever since then. And what's the deal with that picture of her kids on your nightstand? I don't know for sure what the hell's going on, but I don't like it. I know you're with her, up to what I don't even want to speculate." He paused again, looked away, and shook his head. "Go back to the Tarkins, Daala. They're all you've ever talked about, ever cared about. You belong with them. And . . . I don't fit in the picture. Goodbye, Daala."
She deactivated the cube and sat back, folding her hands across her lap and habitually squeezing them tightly together. She looked up at the ceiling, then out the window for a long moment. Yes, things had gotten out of hand with Adrian, most inappropriate, there was no doubt about that. But now she understood how and why it started, and, after meeting his two fine daughters, whose picture she was now proud to display, she could easily understand why he wanted more. She had long since come to realize that she felt much more admiration for Adrian than romantic love, and now she knew that what had happened between them years ago wasn't supposed to mean anything; they had simply been the unwitting victims of a well-intended mistake, isolation, and perhaps a few hormones. She didn't expect it to happen again, especially after meeting Typhani and coming to understand their relationship, watching her interact with him in ways that she couldn't even understand, yet she could easily perceive the bond between them.
And, she realized, she already greatly admired Typhani as well, her courage, her compassion, her strength, her unconditional love for her husband, her devotion to her family and to the Empire, and she wished she had been able to know her before. Daala had begun to wonder if the Empire would have wanted so desperately for leadership if she and Typhani had linked up right after she had emerged from the Maw. She recalled fondly that once she thought that she and Tarkin could have ruled the Empire, and, considering Typhani's character, intelligence, and good standing with almost all Imperials, it might not have mattered which Tarkin. Typhani's lack of military experience had been the only thing keeping her from the helm, in fact. More Imperial leaders than would admit to it had lamented over what might have been if Typhani's father, Baron Nostremi Octovano of Phelarion, had lived just another five years, long enough for Typhani to get through the Academy. After all, her husband had been third in command of the Empire after Palpatine and Vader, and so the seat of leadership was rightfully hers anyway.
Daala perceived strong resolve beginning to well up inside of her, a strength she had not felt since she stood in command on the bridge of her beloved but lost Gorgon before any Rebel ever set foot inside the Maw. "You're right," Daala said decisively to the holocube, and hurled it with force into the nearest wastebasket. Then she called Stroma again. "I'm closing up my house," she said. "A friend of mine is ill, and I'm going to stay with him and his family for awhile, probably several weeks," she explained, then gave Stroma some parting instructions and a means to reach her. To Stroma's last question, she answered, "No, Liegeus won't be back. It's over for good this time."
Then, Daala got through to Typhani. "I'll be back day after tomorrow," she said. "I need to close up my house and take care of sime things. How is everything there?"
"Still the same," Typhani said. "At least he hasn't regressed any."
"That's good," Daala said in relief.
Morgana, Lyjéa, and Lyscithea had also taken their turns at going home to check on aviaries, students, and children, but Typhani never left her husband's side. She recalled how, years ago, Adrian had been in the medcenter on Coruscant overnight for migraines. He did not like his surroundings or circumstances one bit, and he had told Typhani not to leave him alone in that place. She remembered her response, "I'll never leave you alone." Now she was keeping her promise.
His first sensations had been like being under water and not being able to surface, not wanting to surface, floating in a daze of unfocused unawareness. He thought he had heard distant voices, as if calling to him from across the galaxy, but he hadn't been able to make them out, as yet unconcerned with his condition or location. Now, though, focus was coming, ever so slowly. Where was he supposed to be? What had he been doing? What was the last thing he remembered? But these early efforts would be too much for him, and he would drift back down again.
Daala had just returned to Lumin when Nortia came in to give them an update. "We've increased the neurobooster again," she said, "and we're finally getting some results on the readouts. The only concern is that this dosage level may cause mild seizures. But that could be a good thing--a sign of the brain rapid-firing as it turns itself back on. We're fairly sure he's still too weak to move very much at this point, but just in case, we've put him in soft restraints so that he doesn't disengage his central line," Nortia explained.
Daala and Typhani both shot each other concerned looks. "Wait a minute, you can't do that!" Daala told Nortia.
"No, you can't restrain him, whatever you do," Typhani added.
"Why, what's wrong?" Nortia asked.
Daala and Typhani answered in unison, "Nightmares!"
Typhani explained further, but also looked over at Daala at her realization that they had both come to the same conclusion. "He always used to have the worst nightmares about being tied down and not being able to move. Take those restraints off. We'll watch him instead."
Nortia nodded in understanding and left the room as Daala and Typhani continued their conversation. "He had them with you, too?" Typhani asked.
"Sometimes he'd wake up in just a--a frenzy, and not be able to go back to sleep. I used to be so afraid we'd get found out that way," Daala explained.
"Oh, I know," Typhani acknowledged. "I sat up with him many a night after those dreams. I finally learned how to draw them away without waking him."
"Any idea where they're coming from?" Daala asked.
Typhani shook her head as she put some holovids back in their cases. "He doesn't know."
"You know what's funny," Daala continued, "I've seen him do some pretty gruesome things to Rebels and insubordinates, but he never once ordered anybody tied up, down, or such that they couldn't move."
"I can certainly understand why not," Typhani said, preparing to go back to him.
Daala withdrew a holotape case from her bag. "Here, try this one first," she said, extending the recording of his now-famous "Rule by Fear" lecture.
"Yes!" Typhani agreed. Then, she continued speculatively in the same vein as Daala's earlier comment about Rebels, holding the case up in the air. "You know, I've never understood the Rebels' objections to this. They hold this up as their prime example to make Adrian out to be some sort of monster. I just don't understand it. Would they rather have "Rule by Widespread and Relentless Use of Force?"
"I know, I know," Daala agreed, hands in the air. "And I've seen it work in action, in the field. Make a few examples--granted, make them graphic and extreme--but making a few examples to keep others in line actually ends up saving lives, preserving order, and preventing widespread collateral damage in the long run!"
"It's always been more humane than conventional warfare in my book," Typhani continued. "Look at Ghorman. Riots such as that never happened again. Yes, a few people got killed, but how many more would have died if that sort of protesting had been allowed to continue! And the Rebel Alliance used that incident as an excuse to begin hostilities against the Empire--look at all the carnage that has caused--is still causing--right downt he hall! They brought Alderaan on themselves. And in Adrian's absence, how many other worlds have been laid to waste since! Coruscant! Carida! Ithor! Sernpidal! If it weren't for the Rebels, Adrian would have an entire fleet of Death Star battle stations by now, and the Vong would have never come near this galaxy! Rebels! I'll never understand them!" she concluded vehemently, and left the room with the holotape.
Daala smiled after Typhani. "That's our Empress!" she said.
Typhani resumed her place next to her husband, and made sure the restraints were gone. Earlier that morning, they had also switched him from the ventilator to a pressurized oxygen system, and, so far, he seemed to be doing fine with it. "Surely you'll remember this one, Adrian," she said softly as she activated the holoplate reader on the side table.
Those voices were calling to him again, but not so distant now. Rule by fear? Wait a minute, that was his idea! Rule what by fear? Yes, there was a war going on, wasn't there? Wasn't he involved with the war somehow? He couldn't think about that yet. He was also beginning to become aware of other sensations, though, of lying down, of feeling too weak to move, the pressure of the oxygen mask, and it seemed dark.
Typhani deactivated the holoplate reader when the recording concluded. "You are such a good teacher, Adrian," she told him. "There are so many young people now who need your guidance. You have to come back to us, for their sake."
Young people? He could hear that voice more clearly now. Weren't there some young people in his life? Now the pictures began to form in his mind--yes, he remembered, he had two daughters, ages eleven and thirteen, and a niece, nineteen--and he began to perceive sparse and blurry images of them, but they disappeared before they formed completely, and he drifted back again. Occasionally, he would show feeble signs of awareness, a slight sound, a subtle movement, and Typhani's hopes would leap to life, only to be dashed in disappointment.
Daala continued to be impressed by Typhani's devotion, just the way she looked at Adrian, spoke to him, touched him. She had never either felt or witnessed a bond like that; there was something rare and sacred about it. And yet, she as well as anyone could understand how easily and powerfully one could become attracted and attached to him . . . She pushed the thought aside.
A few days later, the medical droids started taking the oxygen away for brief periods. Typhani stayed put, progressing her way through the entire Carida lecture series. Daala would slip in occasionally, careful not to make her presence known. She had brought her laptop computer back with her, and Typhani noticed that she had been doing quite a bit of work on it in the lounge, making outlines and the like, prioritizing all the material she would need to share with her once and future mentor as he recovered.
"You inspired so many people with these, Adrian," Typhani said as another recording concluded. To hear his voice strong and decisive again was a great comfort to her as well; it kept her going and kept up her resolve to make him whole again. With the oxygen mask away for awhile, she could make better contact with him, and so she leaned over and very gently took his face in her hands. "But recordings aren't enough anymore, not now. We need you. I need you, Adrian. I've loved you and missed you and held on for so long. I never gave up on you, and I never will, no matter what comes of this," she said reassuringly, and then she kissed him tenderly.
She sat back down, very tired. She hadn't slept in a long time. She let the rail down, leaned forward, and rested her head on the pillow as close to him as she could get. "You've got a wonderful future in front of you if you can just gather the strength to reach for it," she continued, reaching down to grasp his hand again. "All of your dreams are about to come true."
That voice again. That same, constant, steady, ever-present, soothing voice. And now he knew that touch as well. They were connected to someone-- yes, someone important--to the someone most dear to him. The image formed slowly, but clearly now, that tall, strong-willed, dark-eyed, Phelarian tower of strength that he had come to love and bonded to so inexorably decades ago, and now still . . . His voice was thin and weak, but it came.
"Typhani?"
She had been almost asleep. She fought to contain her elation so as not to startle him. "Yes, Adrian, I'm right here," she said softly and gently, reaching up to touch his face again. "Can you hear me now?" Her heart leapt again as he tried to turn his head a little in her direction.
With this new awareness, other concerns began to flood back. Where was he? What happened? He realized that he had been injured somehow, severely so. He also remembered something about that war again and about being on a battle station, remembered being in control of it somehow, but still the details would not come. Only Typhani was real to him at that point.
"What--" he began to ask.
"You've been in a very bad shuttle accident, but you'll be all right now. We're at the Andromeda Center on Lumin."
"Where are you? I can't . . . " he said, trying to locate her in the dark.
She put a hand across the thick sleep shade. "It's all right, I'm right here. It's just a sleep shade. You've been out for awhile, and so they have to regulate the light to protect your vision," she explained gently.
Then he remembered. "Lyjéa? Scythi?" he asked weakly.
"They're fine. They're just a little worried about you," Typhani reassured him.
For a moment, he seemed to be reaching out with his mind, struggling to recapture images and put names to them. "Morgana?"
"She's here."
That unsettled him. He knew he had to be grievously injured for Morgana to be there, for Vice Admiral Worrell to have given her leave in light of a war going on in the galaxy. Now the details began to come back to him. "Where? Where is she?"
"I'll go get her. I'll be right back."
Typhani rushed into the lounge, and was glad to see that Lyjéa had just returned from giving final exams on Eriadu. "He's awake! He's come back to us!" she announced, clasping her hands and smiling widely, now able to let her elation flow. "Morgana . . . " she said, and they went back down the hall together.
Morgana hovered lovingly over her brother. "I'm here, Adrian," she said softly, barely holding back her tears. "You had us so worried! We almost lost you. You're going to be all right now, though."
"The shuttle . . . I don't remember . . . "
"That's all right. It's normal not to remember right away," Morgana reassured him.
"Typhani?"
She took his hand again, and her spirits lifted as he weakly tried to return her grasp. It would be awhile yet, she knew.
"I feel so . . . disoriented . . . don't . . . don't let go . . . " Then he started to struggle against the cool, antiseptic-laden air in the room.
"Here," Typhani said as she put the oxygen back on, "this will make it easier. I won't let go. I'll never let go of you again."
Reunion
Rohmm Cydras knocked softly on the lounge door as he entered again in the wee hours of the morning. His last two reports had been good. The decarbonization process itself had gone smoothly, and stabilization had begun, with three medical teams working simultaneously. Everyone rose to face him, five breaths held in the night. But he was smiling. Rohmm had impressed upon them that he was a bright, witty, kind young man, a native of Coruscant, with an upbeat sense of humor, but a steady hold on reality as well.
"I am happy to report that the Emperor is now out of recovery, and we're about to move this mission to the critical care unit. We got in and got the major problems straight away this time," he reported. Rohmm could sense the tension in the room lift among the sighs of relief. "I'm going to take you in two groups now. So, if the Empress and the First Sister of the Imperial Remnant will follow me . . . " he said, opening the door and extending his hand into the hallway.
Again, there was little they could see amid the droids and dressings and monitoring machines. "Let me just explain a couple of things," Rohmm began quietly. "Now he was trying to take a few breaths on his own, but he wasn't doing very well, so we've got him on the respirator to save his strength. The more work we can do for him right now, the more energy can go toward healing," he explained. "And he's got the sleep shade on because we've learned that if we introduce light very slowly, and only for an increasingly limited amount of time each day, it minimizes or even eliminates the problem of reduced vision from long-term encapsulation. That has to stay put for now. Don't move it."
Morgana took a tentative step forward and leaned over her brother. "Welcome back, Adrian," she said softly, then to Rohmm, "You don't know how relieved I am."
"Yes, ma'am, I think I do. But I don't want to give you any false hope. This isn't over yet," he cautioned her.
Typhani stood in a sphere all her own. She hadn't even heard Rohmm and Morgana. It seemed as though a howling winter Phelarian storm-wind shrieked around her, and that a veil of cold, damp, suffocating fog a quarter century thick was finally beginning to dissipate.
"If you'll come along so I can bring the others in," Rohmm suggested, "and then you can cycle in and out in ones and twos."
Of course, Typhani wanted so badly to go to him at that point, but she knew if she did, they would never be able to pull her away. The girls needed to see their father, and Daala needed to see first-hand what the Rebels had done. Then she would come back. Morgana stepped out of the room and Typhani reluctantly followed.
Five minutes later, Lyjéa and Lyscithea Tarkin stood before their father for the first time in their adult lives. Lyjéa had always been the stoic one, but now she groped forward toward her father to touch him somehow, to make sure he was really there after all this time. "Scythi, help me!" she cried.
"No, Lyjéa, don't. Not yet," Lyscithea cautioned her.
"It's probably a good idea to wait. We don't want to risk introducing too much outside stimulation until we're sure he's stable and past the memory rush. It can make the confusion worse if you intervene," Rohmm explained gently, but he could understand Lyjéa's need, and felt bad for her at that moment.
"Scythi, is he really there," Lyjéa cried, reaching toward the sound of her sister's voice.
Lyscithea drew her close. "Yeah, Lyjéa. He's really there," she reassured her as tears began to streak her own cheeks. Lyjéa leaned into her younger sister, extending her free hand in the direction of her father. All of these years she'd done without it, done without that protective contact she had always known to be there when she had reached for it as a child, through all of her own painful eye surgeries and endless treatments and various droids and sensing devices and other gadgets that didn't work, and visor systems and other artificial vision contraptions that equally didn't work and only caused her more pain and disappointment . . .
Daala had been standing behind them, fixated on the image before her, an inner rage burning again because she could presently do nothing to help him. "Oh, Adrian, what have those dispicable Rebels done to you," she whispered as she took a step forward to put a caring hand on Lyjéa's shoulder. She suddenly felt out of place, as if she was intruding on a moment that should belong only to his daughters. "I'll leave you two alone now," she said softly, then stepped quietly out of the room. That impressed Lyscithea, who had been inwardly resenting the fact that she and her sister had to share their reunion with their father with someone outside the family.
For the next day and a half, they cycled in and out, but were cautioned to stay back and not to say anything alarming. Finally, when the medcenter staff was sure the memory effects of the carbonite had passed, Rohmm came to the lounge to get Typhani. "Start talking to him," he said. "Bring us back our Emperor!"
At last, Typhani slipped into the room alone with her husband. Slowly, she sat down next to him, hardly believing that it was real after so much time. She wanted so very badly to gather him up in her arms and hold him close, but there were too many things in the way, too many monitors and machines, too many lines that couldn't be disturbed, and too many bandages, dressings, and splints, and so she had to be very careful not to disturb him too much. She leaned close, and with her right hand slightly trembling, she reached through the rails to make contact with him, the back of her hand coming to rest gently against the side of his head at the temple, and she reached through with her left hand to carefully grasp his wrist at the pulse point. Then, she closed her eyes and began to visualize their symbiotic energies coursing through each other again. The reconnection was instantaneous for her. She could feel him, his essence, and she knew that he was still there.
Finally, she let the upper rail down and leaned closer to him, speaking softly, "Adrian, you've been in a very bad accident, it's all right now. I'm here, and so are Morgana and the girls. We need you to come back to us now, and the Empire needs you very much as well."
As everyone expected, Typhani would not leave her husband. She hadn't been back to their suite of apartments in a nearby corporate complex for days, and so one corner of their lounge at the medcenter became devoted to Typhani's luggage and other essentials. The medcenter staff knew that there would be no compromising with the Empress on this matter, so they quickly put a second bed in Adrian's room for her.
She couldn't fathom how he was going to get any better, though, with doctors and nurses and droids--droids upon droids--in and out all the time, checking this and adjusting that, changing his position every two to three hours, monitoring him carefully for pain and stress, and responding in droves to even the slightest change in his condition. They would be left alone for no more than two standard hours at a time, and the traffic quickly began to wear upon Typhani as well, although she understood the necessity of it all.
Occasionally, Daala and the girls would slip in quietly, and as soon as the thought it was safe, Typhani took Lyjéa's hand and put it in her father's. Morgana, on the other hand, began to take a more aggressive approach when, after ten days, there had been no change whatsoever in his level of awareness.
"Adrian!" she said sternly, leaning close over her brother. "Whlhuff Adrian Tarkin, you wake up, right now! The Rebels are getting way out of hand, and you need to crack down hard!" Nothing. She tried again later, something she remembered that had always been failsafe during their long teenage years back in their family's expansive compound on Eriadu. "Adrian, wake up! Dinner's ready!" Typhani chuckled a bit at that. "Well, it always worked before," Morgana said with good humor as she sat down opposite Typhani and took her brother's hand.
After another five days, they began to fear that the neurobooster was not going to work. When she was alone with him, Typhani made contact with him, touching him, holding him, however she could, careful not to disturb anything, and she tried to send him as much energy as she could muster. At three weeks, they increased the concentration on the neurobooster, and waited . . .
With her hands clasped behind her back, Daala paced the floor of the lounge as if it were the bridge of a Star Destroyer. She eventually stopped to face Typhani, and pounded her right fist into her left palm. "Never give up! Never gve up! Never give up! If I heard that once from him, I heard it a thousand times a day! I can't understand why he's giving up like this!" she said, frustrated.
"I don't know, Daala. It's almost as if he doesn't have enough strength to reach some sort of threshold or something. If he could just get to a certain point of awareness, I think he'd be all right," she said.
Daala stooped down in front of Typhani. "If you can get him to that threshold," she said as if making battle plans with her best commander, "I can get him to fight."
"I have a few ideas," Typhani said, and reached into one of her bags for her mobile transponder. "You're frustrated, Daala. This sin't something you can ram full force or shoot turbolasers at, is it?"
"No, it's not," she said as she resumed her seat next to Typhani. "But I suppose it's my most important battle yet. That means I have to win this one, no matter what. 'Can't lose the ship this time."
"Daala, don't think like that," Typhani comforted her. "Adrian probably never told you about the battle of Zonama Sekot because he never had reason to. When he's better, and you're reviewing your battles, as I'm sure you will, ask him about that one. We had just gotten married, and it was a disaster! You should have seen him when he got back. He was despondent for days!" Typhani's connection went through, and she spoke to Raycellna. "I need for you to upload some recordings for me," she said, and began to reel off names of various family holotapes. That gave Daala and idea. Perhaps hearing some of his lecture series for the Academy would spark something.
Daala entered the code for her residence on her own transponder, but there was no answer. "Where the hell is he?" she thought, annoyed. She tried again about an hour later, and then another. Nothing. More frustrated than concerned, she entered another code and stepped out into the empty corridor for some privacy. Stroma Veers, her second-in-command at the colony, promptly answered her comm. "Stroma, it's Daala," she began. "Have you seen Liegeus?"
"Why, yes." Stroma answered. "I was by your house just a couple of days ago. He was packing and loading a lot of bags and boxes. I assumed he was going to join you. Is everything all right? How is your conference going?"
Daala was silent for a moment. "Uh . . . listen, I'm actually on my way home. I should be there late tomorrow. Thanks, Stroma," she said, then switched off her transponder. In her gut, she knew what had happened. She went to find Typhani.
"I'm going to have to run home," she said, "but I'll be right back. You calling for those holotapes gave me an idea. I'll bring the lecture series back with me."
"Go ahead, it's all right," Typhani assured her.
"I'll only be a couple of days, but if anything happens, if he gets worse . . ." Daala said.
"I'll let you know," Typhani assured her, assuming that Daala needed to go home to attend to some important business concerning her colony.
When Daala arrived home on Pedducis Chorios, her house was dark, and there was no sign of Liegeus. With some hesitation, she stepped into her living room and activated the lights. On the hall table lay two remotes to the house's keypads and a holocube. Daala rubbed her aching temples for a moment, and ran her hands through her hair. Her breath grew short as that deep burning in her chest became prevalent again. She set the holocube on the coffee table and sat down opposite it. Their relationship had not been good lately. The unbridled passion of their unexpected reunion had been all too brief, and their relationship had been on again, off again for several years now. True, she had missed his company, and his conversation, during her career with the Empire. When they were reunited after so long, she had looked forward to, as she had put it, having someone to talk to. But her experiences with the Empire, and with Adrian in particular, had done something to her, as if the switches on her brain had been permanently and irreversibly turned up several notches, such that she and Liegeus of late actually had very little in common. And, Liegeus had long since grown very, very weary of all the talk of Tarkin.
With a sigh, Daala activated the holocube. A miniature Liegeus in hologram appeared inside the cube. He was looking down, and a moment passed before he began to speak. Finally, he looked up. "Daala, this isn't working, and I have to get on with my life," he began. "For years, I've told you and told you that I can't compete with a ghost. I won't compete with a ghost." He was silent for another moment, then continued, "I know that Typhani Tarkin came out to see you a couple of weeks ago, and that you've been on the comm with her too much ever since then. And what's the deal with that picture of her kids on your nightstand? I don't know for sure what the hell's going on, but I don't like it. I know you're with her, up to what I don't even want to speculate." He paused again, looked away, and shook his head. "Go back to the Tarkins, Daala. They're all you've ever talked about, ever cared about. You belong with them. And . . . I don't fit in the picture. Goodbye, Daala."
She deactivated the cube and sat back, folding her hands across her lap and habitually squeezing them tightly together. She looked up at the ceiling, then out the window for a long moment. Yes, things had gotten out of hand with Adrian, most inappropriate, there was no doubt about that. But now she understood how and why it started, and, after meeting his two fine daughters, whose picture she was now proud to display, she could easily understand why he wanted more. She had long since come to realize that she felt much more admiration for Adrian than romantic love, and now she knew that what had happened between them years ago wasn't supposed to mean anything; they had simply been the unwitting victims of a well-intended mistake, isolation, and perhaps a few hormones. She didn't expect it to happen again, especially after meeting Typhani and coming to understand their relationship, watching her interact with him in ways that she couldn't even understand, yet she could easily perceive the bond between them.
And, she realized, she already greatly admired Typhani as well, her courage, her compassion, her strength, her unconditional love for her husband, her devotion to her family and to the Empire, and she wished she had been able to know her before. Daala had begun to wonder if the Empire would have wanted so desperately for leadership if she and Typhani had linked up right after she had emerged from the Maw. She recalled fondly that once she thought that she and Tarkin could have ruled the Empire, and, considering Typhani's character, intelligence, and good standing with almost all Imperials, it might not have mattered which Tarkin. Typhani's lack of military experience had been the only thing keeping her from the helm, in fact. More Imperial leaders than would admit to it had lamented over what might have been if Typhani's father, Baron Nostremi Octovano of Phelarion, had lived just another five years, long enough for Typhani to get through the Academy. After all, her husband had been third in command of the Empire after Palpatine and Vader, and so the seat of leadership was rightfully hers anyway.
Daala perceived strong resolve beginning to well up inside of her, a strength she had not felt since she stood in command on the bridge of her beloved but lost Gorgon before any Rebel ever set foot inside the Maw. "You're right," Daala said decisively to the holocube, and hurled it with force into the nearest wastebasket. Then she called Stroma again. "I'm closing up my house," she said. "A friend of mine is ill, and I'm going to stay with him and his family for awhile, probably several weeks," she explained, then gave Stroma some parting instructions and a means to reach her. To Stroma's last question, she answered, "No, Liegeus won't be back. It's over for good this time."
Then, Daala got through to Typhani. "I'll be back day after tomorrow," she said. "I need to close up my house and take care of sime things. How is everything there?"
"Still the same," Typhani said. "At least he hasn't regressed any."
"That's good," Daala said in relief.
Morgana, Lyjéa, and Lyscithea had also taken their turns at going home to check on aviaries, students, and children, but Typhani never left her husband's side. She recalled how, years ago, Adrian had been in the medcenter on Coruscant overnight for migraines. He did not like his surroundings or circumstances one bit, and he had told Typhani not to leave him alone in that place. She remembered her response, "I'll never leave you alone." Now she was keeping her promise.
His first sensations had been like being under water and not being able to surface, not wanting to surface, floating in a daze of unfocused unawareness. He thought he had heard distant voices, as if calling to him from across the galaxy, but he hadn't been able to make them out, as yet unconcerned with his condition or location. Now, though, focus was coming, ever so slowly. Where was he supposed to be? What had he been doing? What was the last thing he remembered? But these early efforts would be too much for him, and he would drift back down again.
Daala had just returned to Lumin when Nortia came in to give them an update. "We've increased the neurobooster again," she said, "and we're finally getting some results on the readouts. The only concern is that this dosage level may cause mild seizures. But that could be a good thing--a sign of the brain rapid-firing as it turns itself back on. We're fairly sure he's still too weak to move very much at this point, but just in case, we've put him in soft restraints so that he doesn't disengage his central line," Nortia explained.
Daala and Typhani both shot each other concerned looks. "Wait a minute, you can't do that!" Daala told Nortia.
"No, you can't restrain him, whatever you do," Typhani added.
"Why, what's wrong?" Nortia asked.
Daala and Typhani answered in unison, "Nightmares!"
Typhani explained further, but also looked over at Daala at her realization that they had both come to the same conclusion. "He always used to have the worst nightmares about being tied down and not being able to move. Take those restraints off. We'll watch him instead."
Nortia nodded in understanding and left the room as Daala and Typhani continued their conversation. "He had them with you, too?" Typhani asked.
"Sometimes he'd wake up in just a--a frenzy, and not be able to go back to sleep. I used to be so afraid we'd get found out that way," Daala explained.
"Oh, I know," Typhani acknowledged. "I sat up with him many a night after those dreams. I finally learned how to draw them away without waking him."
"Any idea where they're coming from?" Daala asked.
Typhani shook her head as she put some holovids back in their cases. "He doesn't know."
"You know what's funny," Daala continued, "I've seen him do some pretty gruesome things to Rebels and insubordinates, but he never once ordered anybody tied up, down, or such that they couldn't move."
"I can certainly understand why not," Typhani said, preparing to go back to him.
Daala withdrew a holotape case from her bag. "Here, try this one first," she said, extending the recording of his now-famous "Rule by Fear" lecture.
"Yes!" Typhani agreed. Then, she continued speculatively in the same vein as Daala's earlier comment about Rebels, holding the case up in the air. "You know, I've never understood the Rebels' objections to this. They hold this up as their prime example to make Adrian out to be some sort of monster. I just don't understand it. Would they rather have "Rule by Widespread and Relentless Use of Force?"
"I know, I know," Daala agreed, hands in the air. "And I've seen it work in action, in the field. Make a few examples--granted, make them graphic and extreme--but making a few examples to keep others in line actually ends up saving lives, preserving order, and preventing widespread collateral damage in the long run!"
"It's always been more humane than conventional warfare in my book," Typhani continued. "Look at Ghorman. Riots such as that never happened again. Yes, a few people got killed, but how many more would have died if that sort of protesting had been allowed to continue! And the Rebel Alliance used that incident as an excuse to begin hostilities against the Empire--look at all the carnage that has caused--is still causing--right downt he hall! They brought Alderaan on themselves. And in Adrian's absence, how many other worlds have been laid to waste since! Coruscant! Carida! Ithor! Sernpidal! If it weren't for the Rebels, Adrian would have an entire fleet of Death Star battle stations by now, and the Vong would have never come near this galaxy! Rebels! I'll never understand them!" she concluded vehemently, and left the room with the holotape.
Daala smiled after Typhani. "That's our Empress!" she said.
Typhani resumed her place next to her husband, and made sure the restraints were gone. Earlier that morning, they had also switched him from the ventilator to a pressurized oxygen system, and, so far, he seemed to be doing fine with it. "Surely you'll remember this one, Adrian," she said softly as she activated the holoplate reader on the side table.
Those voices were calling to him again, but not so distant now. Rule by fear? Wait a minute, that was his idea! Rule what by fear? Yes, there was a war going on, wasn't there? Wasn't he involved with the war somehow? He couldn't think about that yet. He was also beginning to become aware of other sensations, though, of lying down, of feeling too weak to move, the pressure of the oxygen mask, and it seemed dark.
Typhani deactivated the holoplate reader when the recording concluded. "You are such a good teacher, Adrian," she told him. "There are so many young people now who need your guidance. You have to come back to us, for their sake."
Young people? He could hear that voice more clearly now. Weren't there some young people in his life? Now the pictures began to form in his mind--yes, he remembered, he had two daughters, ages eleven and thirteen, and a niece, nineteen--and he began to perceive sparse and blurry images of them, but they disappeared before they formed completely, and he drifted back again. Occasionally, he would show feeble signs of awareness, a slight sound, a subtle movement, and Typhani's hopes would leap to life, only to be dashed in disappointment.
Daala continued to be impressed by Typhani's devotion, just the way she looked at Adrian, spoke to him, touched him. She had never either felt or witnessed a bond like that; there was something rare and sacred about it. And yet, she as well as anyone could understand how easily and powerfully one could become attracted and attached to him . . . She pushed the thought aside.
A few days later, the medical droids started taking the oxygen away for brief periods. Typhani stayed put, progressing her way through the entire Carida lecture series. Daala would slip in occasionally, careful not to make her presence known. She had brought her laptop computer back with her, and Typhani noticed that she had been doing quite a bit of work on it in the lounge, making outlines and the like, prioritizing all the material she would need to share with her once and future mentor as he recovered.
"You inspired so many people with these, Adrian," Typhani said as another recording concluded. To hear his voice strong and decisive again was a great comfort to her as well; it kept her going and kept up her resolve to make him whole again. With the oxygen mask away for awhile, she could make better contact with him, and so she leaned over and very gently took his face in her hands. "But recordings aren't enough anymore, not now. We need you. I need you, Adrian. I've loved you and missed you and held on for so long. I never gave up on you, and I never will, no matter what comes of this," she said reassuringly, and then she kissed him tenderly.
She sat back down, very tired. She hadn't slept in a long time. She let the rail down, leaned forward, and rested her head on the pillow as close to him as she could get. "You've got a wonderful future in front of you if you can just gather the strength to reach for it," she continued, reaching down to grasp his hand again. "All of your dreams are about to come true."
That voice again. That same, constant, steady, ever-present, soothing voice. And now he knew that touch as well. They were connected to someone-- yes, someone important--to the someone most dear to him. The image formed slowly, but clearly now, that tall, strong-willed, dark-eyed, Phelarian tower of strength that he had come to love and bonded to so inexorably decades ago, and now still . . . His voice was thin and weak, but it came.
"Typhani?"
She had been almost asleep. She fought to contain her elation so as not to startle him. "Yes, Adrian, I'm right here," she said softly and gently, reaching up to touch his face again. "Can you hear me now?" Her heart leapt again as he tried to turn his head a little in her direction.
With this new awareness, other concerns began to flood back. Where was he? What happened? He realized that he had been injured somehow, severely so. He also remembered something about that war again and about being on a battle station, remembered being in control of it somehow, but still the details would not come. Only Typhani was real to him at that point.
"What--" he began to ask.
"You've been in a very bad shuttle accident, but you'll be all right now. We're at the Andromeda Center on Lumin."
"Where are you? I can't . . . " he said, trying to locate her in the dark.
She put a hand across the thick sleep shade. "It's all right, I'm right here. It's just a sleep shade. You've been out for awhile, and so they have to regulate the light to protect your vision," she explained gently.
Then he remembered. "Lyjéa? Scythi?" he asked weakly.
"They're fine. They're just a little worried about you," Typhani reassured him.
For a moment, he seemed to be reaching out with his mind, struggling to recapture images and put names to them. "Morgana?"
"She's here."
That unsettled him. He knew he had to be grievously injured for Morgana to be there, for Vice Admiral Worrell to have given her leave in light of a war going on in the galaxy. Now the details began to come back to him. "Where? Where is she?"
"I'll go get her. I'll be right back."
Typhani rushed into the lounge, and was glad to see that Lyjéa had just returned from giving final exams on Eriadu. "He's awake! He's come back to us!" she announced, clasping her hands and smiling widely, now able to let her elation flow. "Morgana . . . " she said, and they went back down the hall together.
Morgana hovered lovingly over her brother. "I'm here, Adrian," she said softly, barely holding back her tears. "You had us so worried! We almost lost you. You're going to be all right now, though."
"The shuttle . . . I don't remember . . . "
"That's all right. It's normal not to remember right away," Morgana reassured him.
"Typhani?"
She took his hand again, and her spirits lifted as he weakly tried to return her grasp. It would be awhile yet, she knew.
"I feel so . . . disoriented . . . don't . . . don't let go . . . " Then he started to struggle against the cool, antiseptic-laden air in the room.
"Here," Typhani said as she put the oxygen back on, "this will make it easier. I won't let go. I'll never let go of you again."