Chapter 8:

Out of Oblivion Into Chaos

For the next several days, Adrian drifted in and out of consciousness, mostly incoherent and disoriented, and he would nearly panic if he sensed that Typhani was not with him. To her, his limited awareness seemed to jump from subject to subject and around in time without transition, as if his mind were an abstract mosaic. They could only wait to know if the pieces would fall together to become cohesive and coherent again.

Not only was Adrian allergic to bacta, but he was also sensitive to many other chemicals, which made the issue of pain management difficult and often less than desirable. The situation those first few days reminded Typhani of the unexplained six-month bout of migraines and seizures he'd had about a year after they married. The personnel at the medcenter on Coruscant, where they had been living at the time, never identified the source of the problem. It had finally abated, but only after Typhani took him to their camp on Lake Phelarion and cut him off from all outside contact, to the point of even preparing all of their meals herself. She had always believed that he had been poisoned somehow, and that the effects still lingered in his present sensitivities. She knew how hard the next few months were going to be for him, perhaps for both of them.

As he slowly became a little stronger and more coherent, the medcenter staff started him on soft foods, broth, juice, gelatin, and the like. Typhani quickly began to spoil him by slipping him whipped cream and applesauce with cinnamon syrup in it. And then she began to break open his favorite wafers and scrape out the crème filling with a spoon. Lyjéa and Lyscithea brought the booty unnoticed under their cloaks. His own daughters! Smugglers! If he only knew!

But he didn't know, not much beyond immediate contact and the few people who tended to him. The first he learned to recognize, other than Typhani and Morgana, was Nortia. She seemed to be the most patient and nurturing, and he would cling to her if he could get hold, trying to keep track of her movements. Then he startled her late one night when she came in to check on him.

"Nortia?"

She shot a positive glance at Typhani, who had turned and raised up on one elbow. "Yes, I'm right here," she answered with an indicative touch. "I'm just checking a few things."

"What . . . what happened to me? I can't move . . . "

"Your shuttle crashed, remember?"

"Oh, yes . . . "

"You were very sick at first, but you're doing much better now. You'll be able to move a little more in just a few days when your leg and back braces come off, after those broken bones have finished healing." He settled back as Typhani moved close and took his hand.

"That's a good sign, that he knew me," Nortia commented.

"Yes. Let's hope for more of the same," Typhani added, looking down lovingly at him.

By the end of the fifth week, his memory was still very patchy, and it was still hard for him to focus on a single topic or remember where he was and why, but Typhani had the utmost patience for him. "You were in a very bad explosion, Adrian, on the battle station, remember?" she explained gently. She had finally told him the rest of it, but had not yet disclosed to him that his beloved Death Star was gone.

But it was supposed to be impossible for a disaster of such magnitude to happen on the station. Bevel said so. Bevel would know what happened and why.

"Where's Bevel," he asked thinly.

"He's at home right now," Typhani assured him.

"Home?" Adrian echoed, still fighting dizzy confusion.

"Yes," Typhani said. "He and Dwyll live in Port Tarkin now." She was starting to drop subtle hints, to ease him into the present as gently as possible.

Bevel and Dwyll back together? So soon? And living on Phelarion? Then Bevel didn't go back--back to the lab. The lab! No one knew about the lab! How long had he been out? Away from the lab? He experienced a sudden clarity at the realization. Not even Typhani knew about the Maw Installation. He didn't want her to know, but right now she seemed to be his only link to the outside.

"Bevel didn't go . . . he didn't mention a . . . special projects facility?" he asked weakly, beginning to panic a bit.

Typhani knew it was time. "Do you mean something like a laboratory?" she asked gently.

"Yes. In the Outer Rim. Near Kessel," he told her, now having trouble catching his breath again. Typhani gave him back the oxygen mask.

"We've brought along a military advisor who will be able to help you with things like that," she said reassuringly. "I'll be right back. Just don't get all worked up. Everything is all right."

But everything couldn't be all right. Even if he'd been down only a month or two, he knew, there would be problems in the Maw . . . And what military advisor? Who had Typhani gone to fetch? A few scattered names occurred to him--Bast, Motti, Yularen? No one could see him like this--this weak, this vulnerable . . .

Typhani stepped quietly into the lounge. Daala lay curled up asleep on one of the sofas, facing its hack. Fortunately, it had been her turn to stay the night. Typhani sensed that she wasn't feeling well, although she couldn't quite pinpoint why. She bent over her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Daala, it's time," she said softly. "He's remembered the lab."

Daala sat up with a start. "Oh, no," she said. "Why couldn't this wait until he's stronger?"

"I know," Typhani shared her concern. "But somehow I think not knowing is actually worse for him. We just . . . we just have to follow our instincts." They walked back together toward his room, and Daala froze outside the door.

"Typhani, I can't do this! I can't tell him what I've done!" she said tightly.

Typhani took her hand. "Yes you can," she said softly and reassuringly. "I'll help you. Now you understand it may really unsettle him when he realizes that we know each other now and are both here. If he starts to panic, just back away a little and let me settle him down again."

Daala finally persuaded her feet to move, and she and Typhani slipped back inside. Daala moved around to the opposite side of the bed as Typhani indicated, but she had glanced at the monitors, and signaled to Daala not to say anything yet. Adrian's stress level was significantly elevated.

"I'm back," Typhani assured him as she resumed her seat, "and I've brought someone I think you'll find very helpful, but you've got to calm down first, all right?"

That would not be easy to do, not knowing who was there. Typhani sensed that, and decided to leave the oxygen on. Then she looked up at Daala, who sat down in the chair on the other side of the bed. Her own breath was coming quick and shallow, that barely suppressible fire raging in her chest again, and her lips quivered. Like Typhani, she had both dreamed of and dreaded this reunion. She leaned over the rails a bit, pushing her hair back over her shoulders. Finally, she drew enough of a breath to speak.

"Adrian," she said softly, "it's Daala."

Typhani kept an eye on the monitors. In his current state, it took the information a moment to register. Typhani had brought Daala and they were both here with him? Then does Typhani know that things with Daala went far further than they were supposed to go? And Daala is not at the lab where she should be! Had Typhani told Daala about their other plans for her? No, things can't be this wrong, not this and the station, they can't be, they can't--

As the stress indicator spiked sharply, Typhani instinctively grabbed his wrist and leaned close. "It's all right, Adrian. All you need to be concerned about right now is that we are both here for you. As I've told you, you've been out for a long time. Things aren't the same anymore," she said, giving him a little more reality.

How long? Why wouldn't they tell him?

Daala's strength was starting to return. "That's right," she said, "We're both here with you and we're both going to help you get through this. Now it's my turn to lecture you about never giving up, do you hear? The Empire needs you!" Typhani nodded at her reassuringly as if to say keep going in the same vein.

When the monitors indicated that he had finally calmed down a bit, Daala continued. "You're probably wondering why I'm not at the Installation. The Rebels found us out, eventually, but all of the information from the research is safe and intact. I have everything, and I will review it all with you when youre strong enough."

Eventually? When was eventually?

Typhani thought he had settled down enough to take the oxygen away again for a little while. "You can't let all these machines do the work for you forever," she admonished him. "You'll end up like Darth."

"How long?" he asked. Of course, Typhani and Daala knew what he meant, and they both shot concerned looks at each other.

"Adrian, don't worry about that right now," Typhani comforted, hoping he would quickly fall back to sleep.

End up like Darth? "Where is Darth," he asked, a tinge of concern in his voice. Typhani realized that she had slipped, badly. Daala picked up then.

"He's not here," she told him. "You don't have to worry about him right now."

Adrian fought to gain more focus, to gather together the pieces of what had happened and develop a strategy of what to do next. "Daala, we . . . we need to get with Bevel . . . get a report from him on the explosion at the station--" He had done too much, and began struggling for air again. "Typhani--I . . . can't . . . breathe--"

"Yes you can," she said softly but sternly, pulling the oxygen mask back down tight with one hand and slipping the other reassuringly under his head. "You just have to stay calm enough to keep enough air in your lungs so they can heal."

She thought he had drifted off to sleep when she took the mask away again, but the movement startled him back awake, and back into his concerns. "Daala, we need to report to the Emperor . . . " he began again. Typhani and Daala looked at each other, and nodded to each other as they made a silent agreement.

"No, you dont have to worry about that, either." Typhani told him. She took a deep breath, and they both grasped his hands. "Vader and Palpatine are both long gone. The war is over, and we need a new leader now. You are the Emperor now, Adrian." Typhani reached for the oxygen with her other hand, but he didn't panic this time.

"It's true," Daala confirmed. "Well, that is, just as soon as you can get out of this bed for an official coronation. Youve done it. Youve outlasted them all! The Empire--it's yours now! All your plans, all your dreams, you've made it!"

Then the realization came. He thought Daala's voice sounded older, and different somehow. "It's been . . . years . . . hasn't it?" he asked.

Typhani leaned protectively close to him and eased a caring hand on the top of his head. "Yes, Adrian, it's been a very long time. You were injured very badly, and they couldn't do anything to help you back then. You've been in a prolonged carbonite encapsulation. Our daughters are grown women now. Lyjéa is a tenured full professor of technical communications at the Imperial University of Eriadu, and Scythi took over the mine from me two years ago." Daala instinctively rose to go call Lyjéa and Lyscithea and tell them to come. Typhani continued, "And, Scythi has some very important things to tell you, but I'll let her do that."

When she arrived, Lyscithea sat down in the chair next to her father and took his hand. "We're so glad to have you back!" she said, batting tears of joy from her eyelashes. "And I've got some very special news for you, like Mom said. Do your remember Kormath, sweet, shy, little Kormath?"

It took Adrian a moment, but then, yes, he did remember Bevel's little boy, the same age as Lyscithea. "You two used to play together," he remembered.

"We still do," she said, smiling. "And you have three wonderful, beautiful, bright grandsons who absolutely cannot wait for their Grampa Adrian to come home! The oldest is named after you, and he's eight now. Little Bevel is six, and Taeodor is three. Kormath and I plan to try for a girl in another year or so."

"Oh, Scythi . . . " he began, then realized that someone had sat down on the other edge of the bed. "Full professor with tenure?" he asked, sensing Lyjéa's presence.

"Would you accept anything less from me?" she asked, smiling down at her father.

"No," he told her, some strength coming into his voice at that point. He had to know something else, though. "Did they ever find a way . . . "

She knew what her father meant. "No, I still can't see. I gave up trying years ago. It was taking too much time and effort away from other things I wanted and needed to do. My tenure clock . . . It was better that I just learned to live with it."

"Where is Rivoche?" he asked.

Typhani reached over to reassure him again. "She turned Rebel, Adrian. We haven't seen or heard from her in years, although now we have to perpetually watch our backs because of her."

"That doesn't surprise me. We did everything we could . . ." he said.

"It could have been worse," Lyscithea commented.

"Oh, yeah, it sure could have been!" Morgana agreed.

"What?" Adrian asked.

"Rivoche almost married Vastin Caglio!" Lyscithea sneered.

"Absolutely not! I would have never allowed that," Adrian insisted.

"Well, we tried to stay out of her life as much as possible, especially after she hit college. She was just so damned incorrigible!" Morgana told him. "Fortunately or not, her little band of Rebel friends showed up and rescued' her from Vastin just hours before her engagement party! I had worked for weeks on that gala! I could have just strangled her! She's working for the Rebels' historical bureau now, another tech writer in the family."

Speaking of the Rebels . . . "The Rebels? You said the war is over?" Adrian asked.

"It is," Daala began to explain, "and the current situation is that they have their part of the galaxy and we have ours. We have parts of the Outer Rim and the Seswenna Sector, except for Coruscant, of course. Ardus Kaine took over for you, and came up with this wonderful idea called the Pentastar Alignment, but then he got himself killed. It's an awfully long story, and one that Gilad tells best. He wrote the peace treaty."

"Ardus always was hot-headed," Lyscithea commented.

"Boy, if that isn't Darth Vader calling deep space black," Morgana thought.

"And the galaxy is split--with the Rebellion?" Adrian asked sharply.

"For the moment," Daala confirmed, but with a suggestion of impending change in her tone. "They call themselves the 'New Republic.'"

"Was this Gilad's doings?" he asked as angrily as he could at that point, then took a moment to catch his breath again.

"It was the only way to save what territory we had, Adrian. He's not you. He did the best he could. When that happened, though, that's when he, Paleb Viorska, and the others really got serious about finding a way to bring you back somehow," Typhani defended the Vice Admiral.

"What is Gilad doing now?" Adrian asked.

"He's basically been holding everything together for the past few years. But, he's getting too old, and he can't do it anymore. He never wanted to in the first place. This will be a days long discussion to bring you abreast of everything, and I really think we should wait until Gilad can be here, you know, to pass the proverbial torch," Daala explained.

"Yes, I think you've had quite enough for now," Typhani cautioned him. "There's nothing you can do about it this very minute, except to rest and get better." With that, the others took their cue to leave.

"Typhani?" he called out when he was sure the others were gone.

"I'm right here," she said softly as she sat back down close to him.

"How long, exactly? I have to know," he insisted.

"Are you sure you want to know right now?" she asked, taking his hand again.

He hesitated for a moment, then answered her. "Yes."

"It's been just a little over twenty-five years," she told him gently, and grasped his hand a bit more tightly.

"Oh, my . . . "

"It's all right," she comforted.

"But you don't . . . you don't seem that different."

Sensing the question in his observation, she smiled down at him. "I'm not. I'm Phelarian, remember? Biologically, we're about the same age now." She leaned over him and raised his hands to her hair, her face, her breasts. "See? I'm still the same person."

"No," he said flatly. "Now I understand what it's like for Lyjéa."

Typhani got up momentarily and dimmed the lights as much as she could, yet still see. She returned to him, and carefully lifted the sleep shade. He opened his eyes for the first time in twenty-five years and looked up at her.

"Can you see me?" she asked with trepidation, gazing longingly and lovingly into his deep blue eyes, where she had always found acceptance, reassurance, and validation. She took his hands and leaned close to him again.

"Yes," he confirmed. Her image was blurry and lacked detail, but it was there.

"Thank goodness!" she sighed, relieved. Although she had lavished a galaxy of kisses upon him over the past few weeks, she descended closer and their lips met for the first time in mutual full awareness.

She pushed her bed as close to his as she could get it, and at last lay down for the night. It was well after midnight.

"Typhani?" he called again.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked as she turned toward him.

He hesitated a bit. "Am I . . . very terribly disfigured?"

She moved close to him again. "No, Adrian. Most of the injuries were internal, except for one very bad blow to the head, but your hair has covered that. You did catch a bit of shrapnel as well, but that's all healed now. You're going to be all right."

They both drifted off for awhile, but his slightest movement would awaken her.

"Are you asleep?" she asked.

"No. Is it official?"

"What?" she asked, not following him.

"The Empire. Is it officially . . . mine?"

"The Council has indicated, according to Gilad, that you can start assuming duties whenever you feel ready."

"Is there really anything left?"

"There's enough left to need the guidance of a good Emperor."

"That's not what I asked you, Typhani. How many systems, approximately?"

"About a thousand, I think." The number was miniscule compared to what the Galactic Empire used to be. Yet another blow.

"Eriadu is one of them, no?"

"Oh, yes, of course. The Imperial capital is on Bastion now, though. It was part of Ardus' plan, and it works well, being so close to Muunilinst."

"What happened to them?"

"Who?"

"Darth and Cos?"

"They were both killed in action, about four years after your accident. Cos could transport himself, you know. He had a couple of clones left on Byss but . . . well, they didn't last long."

"And Gilad has held the helm ever since?"

"Oh, no, there have been others. Ysanne tried her hand at it for awhile, and, do you remember Thrawn of the Nuruodo clan? The alien who made Grand Admiral?"

"The Chiss? Yes, I think so. He and Cos got into it--some political disagreement, as I recall. Cos sent him to the Unknowns."

"He came back for awhile. Gilad worked with him, in fact. He was our best hope, with you incapacitated. His own bodyguard killed him. I can't remember why."

"What a terrible waste!"

"Yes, his was a very bad loss indeed."

"Anyone else?"

"Not of any consequence. We've had quite a time with a bunch of, as Daala puts it, ham-fisted, jumped-up, overstuffed warlords picking over the leavings of the Empire like so many maggots! She and Gilad killed a dozen of them with one swift stroke--wonderful escapade! They'd have destroyed each other and us all by now if they hadn't. But, of course, more just rose up in their place, mostly in the Core Worlds."

"We have territory there as well?"

"Not anymore."

"I see. It appears I have quite a bit of work ahead of me." The realization of being the new Emperor finally began to set in upon him as he drifted back to sleep.

Typhani and Daala sat with him for most of the next afternoon, filling him in on some of the most important details, the startling identity of Darth Vader's two children, the Battle of Hoth, the Battle of Endor, the rise and fall of Thrawn, Daala's years in the Maw, the terrible loss of Carida, the warlords' infighting, the most un-Imperial antics of Roganda Ismaren and Moff Disra, the terms of the peace treaty, the current status of the New Republic, the Imperial Remnant's current territorial boundaries, and the Yuuzhan Vong invasion of Rebel territory. Adrian had already begun to think of galactic redomination, and he thought he had the perfect solution for that and the Vong invasion. "Where is the station now?" he asked Typhani and Daala. "Repairs were made, no?"

Typhani winced. "No."

He was silent for a moment, contemplative. "Well, then, we'll have to make them now. We can't have Rebels and extragalactic alien invaders overrunning us! Is it at Kuat, or back at Horuz?"

Typhani bit her lip, then very reluctantly continued. Better he should hear it from her than anyone else. "No, Adrian, you don't understand. The station is gone. It was destroyed in the battle that caused your injuries. Your shuttle barely got away. The damage from the explosion is what caused it to crash-land on Tallaan."

He shuddered, and Typhani slid an arm under his shoulders. "But how? Bevel said . . . he said the station was impregnable, that it couldn't be destroyed!"

"Proton torpedoes down the main reactor's thermal exhaust port," Typhani explained.

He knew the outcome. "A chain reaction . . . oh, no!"

"We tried again," Daala interceded. "There's one detail we didn't tell you about the Battle of Endor. The station that was destroyed there wasn't like Centerpoint or the Eye of Palpatine. It was a second Death Star. Bevel tried again, but the Rebels flew directly into the core while the new station was under construction. The design . . . the Empire scrapped it at that point, especially with Palpatine gone."

He seemed to go limp on the inside. "All that work for naught . . . Wait! The prototype! We can fit out the superstructure!"

This time it was Daala who winced. "Adrian, I told you the Rebels found us out. They attacked the lab. Tol tried to get away in the prototype. He had all the scientists on board while I attacked the Rebels with the Gorgon, but something went wrong. He drove straight into one of the singularities."

"There's nothing left . . . What are we ever to do now, then?" he asked weakly.

"Gilad has some ideas, as do I. We have plenty of time. The Rebels don't know you're alive," Daala told him.

"What does it matter if I have nothing to fight with? From what you're telling me, what's left of the New Order has allowed everything to be destroyed or taken over by Rebels! I've come out of this only to face defeat?"

Daala and Typhani both fought off fear and shame.

"Status report, Daala! What do we have?" Adrian insisted.

Typhani interjected. "What we have right now is a state of peace, a cease-fire, if you will, with the New Republic. As Daala said, that, undesirable as it is, at least gives us time to regroup. We aren't defeated, Adrian. We have a nation of our own. No, it's not the whole galaxy, but it consists of those systems that were most loyal to the New Order and most capable of sustaining it. Gilad saw to that."

"And we have the fleet," Daala added. She proceeded to outline for him all the resources she could think of. "The New Republic is a very shaky institution at best. We may not have to fight them again. The Rebellion may fall apart of its own accord, or the Vong may take care of the matter for us."

"And what if these Vong-aliens attack our territory?" Adrian asked pointedly.

"Gilad is very good at Vong extermination," Daala assured him.

"They've attacked us already?"

"Only on the border," Daala fabricated quickly. "Gilad and his forces helped drive them back into Rebel territory."

"Were you involved in that campaign?" he asked Daala.

She hesitated. "No. I--uh--I was . . . occupied elsewhere." She looked away, glad that he couldn't see her.

"Elsewhere?" he queried.

Daala began to wring her hands, so Typhani interceded. "Daala has had her plate quite full over the years, thanks to you and Gilad and others, but I think we need to take a break now. You mustn't get too very stressed."

"As long as everything is presently under control," he said, his tone tainted with warning.

"It is," Daala assured him. To her ultimate relief, he nodded in agreement, and settled down for a nap. With her involved, he had little doubt that the Empire's affairs were well in hand.

Involved. Yes, he and Daala had been involved, hadn't they, he thought as he slipped back into a restful late afternoon slumber.

The next time he awoke and realized that he and Typhani were alone, there was another most important matter he had to clear up. Typhani and Daala seemed to get along so well that he began to wonder if they were both still in the dark about all that had transpired between the three of them. For his own good, he didn't want to sour their relationship, but he needed to know what they knew. So, he began at the beginning of their errors. "Did you tell Daala about our other plans for her?" he asked.

Typhani hesitated a moment. "Yes. I thought that was only fair, considering I was pulling her out of retirement to help you rebuild the Empire."

"And, how did she react?" he asked.

"Well, at first, she was angry, of course, but then she just wanted to know why we didn't simply ask her to help us. She said the whole thing could have been handled artificially, and then we wouldn't have had to risk our relationship and hurt her in the process. I'm afraid we were a bit too arrogant where she was concerned. Presumptuous' was the word she used, and, in hindsight, I think I must agree with her.

"And yes, I know all about what happened behind closed doors at the Installation. From now on, we shall have to set limits on the amount of time we spend apart at any given instance, and take better care not to lose touch with one another. I explained to Daala that we had all hurt each other very badly, and that you and I had made a very terrible mistake, but that now we have to heal for our own well being, and for the good of the Empire." She stopped for a moment, then continued. "And, we will also need to make sure that Daala never feels like she is all alone in the universe ever again."

"She told you she felt that way?" Adrian asked, not believing that the Daala he knew would ever divulge such to anyone.

"No, but it's not hard to figure out. Before I risked visiting her, I did my research, of course. I learned, which I'm sure you already know, that she has only one name because she is an orphan. You know, she reminds me a lot of the little girl Palpatine adopted, that little Mara Jade. Do you remember her? She was the one we helped Palpatine test and before then we had her with us for the summer--remember, we had to empty out the safe at the mine offices and put a datachip in there that she had to take back to him if she got it open? I don't think you or either of them ever knew it, but I simplified the codes to make it a lot easier for her. I didn't want to see her cast out again. She's turned Rebel too, by the way, but at least Mara had an identity, knew she had parents who had cared about her, and knew that they had been killed in battle.

"But Daala--to be abandoned, literally thrown away--a defenseless infant tossed into a garbage masher and left to die, growing up in a filthy orphanage and so many foster homes--and then the way she was treated on Carida . . . You know I can't blame you for trying to comfort her and give her confidence, to make her feel worthy of being cared for. I have a theory about her, you know, a womens intuition theory. I think that's what she actually wanted far more than rank or power or victory--for someone to simply acknowledge her strengths and validate her existence. I think all that tomboy bravado of hers was simply her way of saying I'm here, I deserve to be here, I am not a piece of garbage, and like any human being I deserve to be loved, wanted, and respected.' I know you, Adrian. I know that's what you were trying to do for her. But you got a little carried away, no? And then . . . " she trailed away.

"What?" he asked.

"I know that I should let her tell you this herself, but she's very much ashamed and afraid of what you'll think. She's had a really bad time of it, Adrian. You see, she wasn't very good in the field. She had a few successes--in fact, she knocked the everliving starlight out of Calamari again for you--but she also made a lot of mistakes and suffered an awful lot of setbacks. Her Destroyers are all gone, except for the Gorgon, and it is currently in drydock at the Kuat scrapyard--a carcass for parts. I don't know the full details, but she and Gilad were in another battle of some kind later, and she ended up losing another, larger Destroyer and nearly died from dehydration from floating in a lifepod for days on end until Gilad was able to pick her up. She resigned after that one. Gilad said it nearly broke his heart. And, that's when she and Stroma Veers rounded up as many Imperial supporters as they could find and started a colony on Pedducis Chorios. Later still, she nearly got herself killed during a run-in with Garn Bel Iblis--I still hate that old fart! And then after that, the Rebels almost hit her colony a few years ago, gunning for her, of course, but, thank goodness, Gilad found out in time and distracted them somehow. She's been hiding out there for the last half decade until I brought her here. I know you can't see her well enough yet, but she doesn't take care of herself--doesn't care about herself anymore. She looks ten years older than she really is--in fact, I had to double-check my information after I saw her for the first time. And this criminal she's been living with--he's such a nasty thing! Who knows what he's done to her! In so many ways, she's just so broken down and defeated--she's always referring to herself as a failure. I cracked through that a little bit when she showed me the data cells containing the core dump from the lab. I tried praising her for protecting the information, as she was assigned to do, and I got a little positive reaction out of her, but not nearly enough.

"But, on the upside, she's a very independent woman, she certainly has a mind of her own and knows how and doesn't hesitate to use it, and she's a survivor. She's made her own way in a universe that has been so very cruel to her for far too long, and we were the cause of it all." She looked decisively down at her husband. "We have to make sure it never happens again."

"She wasn't ready yet. I hadn't finished teaching her half of what she needed to know," he said, inwardly cursing the Rebels over again for putting him out of commission.

"I know," Typhani said. "It wasn't your fault. And, at least you didn't abandon her. That's why she agreed to come here. She knows that now, but I sense that she felt that way for many years at the Installation." Then Typhani was quiet, contemplative, for a long moment.

"What?"

"Adrian, we can't have any more secrets between us like the Maw Installation. I know that you never thought anything like this would ever happen to you. Granted, the scientists and such there got quite a bit of valuable work done in the eleven years that ensued between your last departure and the arrival of the Rebels, but for everyone to be isolated that long because no one knew . . . Look at Daala. I tried to find her after the explosion, but when I couldn't, I assumed she'd been with you on the station and hadn't gotten out. What if she'd gotten pregnant on your last visit? Thank goodness, she didn't, but what if she had? Then what would she have done? Everyone would have known. Her command would have meant nothing. No one would have respected her anymore. Things would have fallen apart at the Installation within a matter of months. There has got to be at least one other person who knows about these clandestine projects of yours--or, I mean, even if you'd set up something on your computer and told me to access it only if something happened.' Or, given her some sealed instructions, if I'm not back in X amount of time . . . Things turned out all right this time, but what if there's a next? Youre not invincible, Adrian. I think you know that now," she admonished him.

"Typhani, it was far too dangerous. The girls were still so young," he explained.

"Then find someone expendable, or write a computer code that will launch automatically if you don't access it in a certain amount of time," she insisted.

"All right, are you going out for Empress or Chief of Staff?" he asked teasingly.

"Both," she told him firmly They both knew it was going to end up that way anyway, knew that it was going to take both of them--all of them. "I will not be some throne-sitting, inactive, creme-filled little waif. If anything, we can show those filthy Rebels what real leadership is! I know Daala told you a little bit about Darth's daughter being their on-again, off-again, so-called leader now. Well, that drunk she's married to is an utter disgrace--a low-bred, backwater, Corellian dimstarbilly who communes with Wookiees on the side, and he smells just like one! Daala's met him! She knows! We will do better! In fact, did Daala tell you, some thirty systems have come back to the Empire since our stabilization a couple of years ago, and once we have centralized strength in leadership again, and when it's announced who the leader is . . . . You've been very sorely missed, Adrian. I don't think you realize how much so yet. There hasn't been time enough for us to tell you everything, but I think, between ships and superlaser bastions and spaceports and high schools and such, there are now more things in this galaxy named for you than for Palpatine. Seriously! Weve just got to get you out of this bed now," she assured him.

He could tell right away that his wife had already grown intensely attached to Daala. He knew how easily that could happen. And now that all the dirty little secrets were out, she wouldn't have to fend for herself alone anymore.

He still wondered about others, though, and about one of his own being alone.

"How long have Kormath and Scythi been married?"

"Oh, goodness, you know, their fifteenth anniversary is coming up In a few months! We'll have to plan something special for that one," she told him.

"And Lyjéa?" he asked. "She's still alone, isn't she?"

Typhani hesitated. She knew that her husband would not be repulsed by her answer, but that he would likely be a little taken aback. "No, she's not alone," Typhani said.

"What?" he asked.

"Just like Raine . . . " Typhani told him.

Somehow he had always known it would turn out that way. "What's her name?"

"Sabine," Typhani answered. "Sabine Rhiannon Northstar. She's a reactor engineer, also visually impaired, although she has some residual vision. They've been together for over twelve years now, very happily, in fact."

He felt at that point that he had to know about one more person, and he braced himself emotionally in the event his wife would tell him that his best friend was gone. "Where's Raith?"

Again, Typhani hesitated. "He's . . . in a retirement home. He had a stroke a few years back--a bad one. Kormath, Scythi, and I wanted to bring him to Phelarion and take care of him ourselves, but the doctors convinced us otherwise. He's very difficult to handle; apparently, he gets violent sometimes. The last time I was there--it was a couple of months ago--he didn't recognize me. But you know something, he may still remember you. He seems to remember more from the distant past than the recent. Youll have to go see him when youre able."

"Arent any of our friends left intact?" he asked sadly.

"Oh, yes," Typhani smiled. "Rodin is quite well, more fastidious than ever!" She had already told him that her first cousin and his second-in-command, Admiral Raolf Motti, had gone in the first Death Star incident, although she hadn't told him exactly how it had happened. "And, let's see, there's Ohran, Nasdra, Elizie, and Shenna, after I nursed them all back to health and sanity. Shenna and Irek are engaged now, actually, believe it or not, and they assure me that Roganda is not invited to the wedding. She moved to Tallaan with a new alien boyfriend, a Zabrak, I think. Ohran is living and working on Yaga Minor, and the Magrodys live on Eriadu now. And, there's Drost and Marielle and their brood, eigit grandchildren now, and, well, I thought maybe you'd like to know, Theala is also still kicking about."

"That's quite all right," he assured her bemusedly at her last comment. "About Roganda, what exactly did you do to her?"

"I made her harvest moss for a season."

"How very perfect!"

"If you'd only seen that poor boy suffer. It reminded me of Darth after his last fight with Kenobi," she recalled, as she remembered nursing sixteen-year-old Irek Ismaren after the cybernetic implant in his brain that supposedly enabled him to influence machines went terribly wrong and spawned a cluster of malignant tumors that nearly cost the recalcitrant lad his young life.

By the beginning of the sixth week, Adrian could have the sleep shade off at night and in very low light, but everything was still very blurry. And then, the paybacks began for all the Rebels and insubordinates he had ever tortured--physical therapy. Of course, they'd been working with him a little since the very beginning, but now that most of the broken bones had healed, it was up and out of the bed every day and into warm-up suits and athletic shoes and downstairs for daily dealings with what, after three or four days, Adrian became convinced were Rebel infiltrators.

They stopped the neurobooster at sixty days, but continued the cell regenerator because, despite their efforts, his strength simply was not returning as it should have. He had wanted to get back on a schedule. He had been on a schedule all of his life and craved the structure. He and Daala had planned to begin spending each afternoon in debriefing, with Gilad coming in a couple of days a week, but thus far he was coming back from physical therapy exhausted, if not upset and distressed, and so only a nap, and a very long one at that, would do.

Because he would nap in the afternoon, he would often not sleep at night. That gave him time to reflect, think, and plan. Even though he and Typhani had discussed Daala's difficulties, they had not yet explored the impact of their ill-fated actions on their own relationship. Adrian wondered how it had all come out.

"Why in the tabvids, of course," his wife told him as if he should know. "One of Daala's crew leaked it all. One of the guards, I think."

"I knew I should have executed those guards!" Adrian fumed, remembering the two guards who had unwittingly observed him sneaking into the Admiral's quarters aboard the Gorgon in the middle of the night. He'd only spotted them out of the corner of his eye, never quite sure if they had seen him or not. "How did you know--know what actually happened, that it went too far?" he asked with a faint stirring of shame and guilt that for him, although faint, was monumental.

She laughed slightly at him. "Adrian, I'd known you for thirty years! I could tell. No matter how hard you tried to hide it, I could tell. But why? What caused it? We'd clearly laid out how we would proceed with her. Whatever caused you to overstep our plans? I know it wasn't the act itself. I remember those nights after you'd get back from the lab--all she did was starve you for me. So what was it? What were you not getting at home?" She wanted to make sure he got plenty of it in the future.

He lay silently for a long time, contemplative. She gave him the time he needed to provide her with an answer as near adequate as one could be for such behavior. "This . . . will sound very foolish," he finally began, "but I think it happened because she needed me, and, well, perhaps that's what I was missing--for someone to need me. It was always very strange to me, that the harsh and robust military officer she was by day would melt in her sleep by night. Always afterwards, well, it was as if she couldn't get close enough to me. I don't think she was even aware that she was doing it. But now many of the things you've told me about her make sense."

"Aaahhh. So it's all my fault for not being weak and vulnerable," she teased.

"No, Typhani. You know that your strength has always been attractive to me," he reassured her.

"But maybe you find the need for protection also attractive in that way. Perhaps that struck some sort of balance in you for your more destructive attributes," she pointed out.

"Yes, perhaps, but . . . I know it doesn't excuse what happened. I . . . I can't say I would have blamed you had you chosen not to be here." But the far deeper chemistry of their own bond had provided for that, and it pulled hard at Typhani's heart as she descended back onto the bed next to him.

"No," she insisted, "I could be nowhere else. You know that. I just knew that there had to be some underlying reason, but whatever it was, I forgave you for it years ago. After all, we were the ones who set ourselves up for this. We couldn't be happy with what we had--two wonderful daughters--and they weren't enough. We deserve our pain. But I keep thinking, what we did to her, is it really any better than what Roganda did to Irek? "

"No. No, it's not. I would have to say it's worse. One series of savage acts that I actually never intended."

"You . . . you never hurt her, forced her?"

"Oh, no, certainly not! After the first couple of times, she started coming after me. Why? Did she say something?"

"She thought, for a moment, that she was 'just an incubator,' as she put it."

"No. In the secrecy surrounding the lab, she was my student, my protégé, my confidante, although I certainly violated that. But I never thought of her as an incubator. She was precious to us. She could give us what we wanted yet couldn't provide for ourselves. It all seems so twisted now. I can lie here and say with utmost confidence that I would have never harmed her, or allowed harm to come to her, but in the process of things, that's exactly what I did. I couldn't blame her for not being here, either. Whatever did you tell her to get her to come?"

"I impressed upon her the need, for the good of the Empire. But I can't help but think she still has feelings for you. What are we going to do if she does? How will you handle her?" she asked pointedly, definitely putting her adulterous husband on the spot.

"She will obey my command. I can't think that she would, knowing what we did to her, but if she does instigate something, well, at that point, then, perhaps it would be well if we both sit her down and have a talk with her, and impress upon her that if she wants to be close to one of us, then she will have to be close to both of us, and not in any sort of intimate way."

Typhani knew there would very likely be close moments between them in the future, that she couldn't be with Adrian all the time. And after what they'd done to Daala, both directly and indirectly, she felt she could accept close, but certainly not intimate.

Typhani had just gotten far more than many slighted spouses ever hope to get--an honest answer for the transgression. She lay awake that night as well, questioning herself. Could she, perhaps, be a little more vulnerable, could she need him more now? She silently wished he could have seen her after Yavin, after the Conclave (especially after the Conclave), after Endor . . . But he hadn't been there for her to cause him concern, so she found it easier and more acceptable to let go of her guard when she simply did not have the strength to hold it up.

Some of their closest moments, she recalled, had occurred when she collapsed into his arms at word of her father's sudden and unexpected death, and later during the days after her ancestral home on Phelarion had burned, when the authorities found a thirty-year-old skeleton entombed in the wall behind the main stairs. Then she had truly needed him, and again after the repeated loss of child after child, especially after her own very close scrape with death after Lyscithea's birth, and again after the hovercar accident/assassination attempt she'd been in on Eriadu when the girls were young and had fortunately not been with her. Even in those instances, though, she had ultimately been the one to assure him that she would be all right, so that he would not worry about her, so that he could continue his duties and the pursuit of his ambitions unburdened by concern. And that, she reflected, always seemed to be the end of the most intense intimacy. Could she need him, allow him to protect her without a crisis? In so many instances, she had protected him, if from nothing more than the distraction of her own needs. After the past quarter century, though, she knew how much she needed him. Indeed, he would never again want for the role of her protector. But would she be the only one who needed his protection? The next few months would tell.

By the middle of the ninth week, Adrian had gained enough upper body strength only to begin learning to work on a mobile computer again, with Daala's instruction and assistance, as well as screen enlargement software until his vision finished clearing up. He could sustain this activity only for very limited amounts of time, though. Fortunately, he had not been paralyzed, thanks to whomever strapped him so securely into the shuttle, but his strength simply would not last; even a datapad was a challenge. He still could not even sit up without support yet, and if they got him up too quickly he would almost black out from extreme dizziness. Too much sudden activity of any kind, and he would not be able to catch his breath again and have to be put back on the oxygen. Standing and walking were distant, and possibly unrealistic, dreams.

Although still quite slow by his own standards, his mind was light years ahead of his body. Considering what he was finding out about the utter chaos that had transpired in the galaxy, in the Empire, after the Battle of Endor, and the inexorably slow pace at which he was being able to assimilate everything, he began to face the possibility that he was going to have to make a decision, as Lyjéa had warned, a choice between physical and mental capacities.

At ten weeks, he finally reached what they determined to be a saturation level of the cell regenerator, and so it was withdrawn as well, along with its rather cumbersome monitoring equipment and very uncomfortable central line. Typhani had waited so patiently and so anxiously for that moment, when the last technological tethers were taken away. Adrian had gone straight to sleep that evening in utter relief, and so Typhani carefully moved him to one side of the bed, dropped her robe over the back of the chair, and, fighting back tears of boundless joy, slipped gently into the bed next to him.

He stirred despite her best efforts not to wake him, and reached out for her when he realized where she was. She helped him turn to face her, and for a long time, they just stared deeply into each other's souls. Then Typhani reached over to touch him intimately. "Do you have any sensation?" she asked softly.

"Yes, a little," he answered as she reached up to loosen her hair and began to unbutton the front of her nightgown. No, they weren't home yet, not in their bed, that big, soft, wonderful, overstuffed sanctuary of warmth piled high with their own pillows, blankets, throws, and comforters, and it would be awhile yet before Adrian would be strong enough for them to be fully intimate again, but this would do for now.

Please Click Here to Send Your Comments to the Author! Your Feedback is Genuinely Appreciated!