Chapter 11:
Making Sense of It All
"I can't wait to take those plaques off. I should have had the workers do it already," Typhani commented as she and Adrian looked up from the base of the black obelisk in the courtyard of their home that had served as his mock resting place and memorial since just a few months after the Battle of Yavin.
In memory of my husband, we serve the Empire faithfully.
Adrian seemed lost in thought, and mixed feelings as his wife continued. "Everyone wanted me to lead the wives' organization--The Widows of Yavin. I couldn't quite take the charade that far. Byrela Yularen did a fine job in the post instead. Are you all right? This is a bit much for you, no?"
"I suppose it's just the manifestation of knowing that everyone thought I was dead for twenty-five years that's bothering me."
"We can take it down if you like."
"No, no, it's a fine tribute--to the memory of the Empire, perhaps to Cos and Darth . . . "
"Yes. Perhaps some new plaques are in order. That shall be a wonderful use for it now."
"Yes. It's time we move on to the life we have left, and to the future."
Just as they got back to the house for breakfast out on their veranda, three very excited little boys came bounding through the kitchen and out the back door. The boys had seen countless pictures and holograms of their grandfather, but now at last he was real to them. He gathered them close to him as Kormath and Lyscithea appeared in the kitchen door. Adrian marveled at Kormath, at how that shy, scrawny, scruffy-headed little boy had grown into a strong, handsome, and, after his father, brilliant man.
Kormath now ran Sienar Design Systems, albeit remotely, since the company's founder and his employer, as well as his father-in-law's best friend, Raith Sienar, had suffered a massive stroke four years ago. Raith had moved his business from Lianna to Eriadu following his recovery of the company after a period of hostile takeover by the Liannan House Santhe. He had also been instrumental in helping Kormath rescue his father from certain Rebel execution for war crimes in connection with both Death Stars and the more recent Darksaber Incident, in which the elder Lemelisk had attempted to design a similar weapon for Durga the Hutt. The Rebels would allow Lemelisk's family and a few close friends to visit him one last time, they had learned, and so Kormath and Raith worked tirelessly to develop a cyborg likeness of the senior Lemelisk--as well as a personal cloaking device. Despite Raith's best efforts, the cloaking device would work for only about fifteen standard minutes on one charge, but that was all the time they needed. They cloaked the cyborg on the way in to the visit, recharged the device during it, and cloaked Lemelisk on the way out of the Orinakra prison, leaving the cyborg behind for the Rebels.
Adrian heard the now familiar hum of another hoverscooter coming up behind Kormath and Lyscithea. Kormath stepped aside to allow his father to pass. Bevel Lemelisk smiled widely at his old friend. "It's about time you showed up," he said amiably. "We've had pure hell without you!" His wife, Dwyll, soon appeared behind him. Dwyll was a cherubian little curly-haired old lady who liked to make her own folksy clothes and who absolutely loved to play kimba, a group game in which the object was to line up a series of numbers called at random and arranged in sequences that fall under the letters in the word kimba. The first person in the group to align the numbers would then shout "Kimba!" and win the game, while everyone else in the usually smoke-filled room would mutter an expletive of his or her--or its--own choosing.
Another of their closest associates had also in the end preferred to use cyborgs over clones, to her ultimate salvation despite the Rebels best efforts to eliminate her. Typhani rose from her seat in bubbly excitement as she spotted a woman getting out of an overland transport that had just arrived in the portico. "Ysanne!" she called, and ran to meet her dear friend. Typhani had helped Ysanne as much as she could after the Battle of Endor, but it hadn't been enough. Similar to the Lemelisk situation, Ysanne Isard had created likenesses of herself to aid her in her early attempts to hold the Empire together, both before and after the brief reign of Grand Admiral Thrawn. The clone she tried first she ultimately had to destroy. Whereas Daala's primary survival tactic had been to charge full-force through whatever obstacle presented Itself, Ysanne's tactic had been to hide and operate from remote locations. She found that she could much more easily control a cyborg, with its computerized brain, from a remote site than she could a clone. When a Rebel finally shot the cyborg dead, not sticking around long enough to realize that she had shot a cyborg, Ysanne used the opportunity to her advantage. Like Daala, Ysanne had quickly grown disgruntled with the chaos in the galaxy, and wanted her own empire of sorts, if she couldn't have the real one, her own little empire like her best friend Lady Typhani Tarkin had on Phelarion. A business. That was the way to be in control, and deal with the emotional baggage of their immeasurable losses, Typhani had counseled her.
And so, Typhani helped Ysanne create a new identity for herself, one Dreya Nal, and then helped her set up her business, a large-scale company that provided security equipment, weaponry (much of it using Phelarian megonite, of course), and personnel to a vast array of clients. Unbeknownst to Typhani in the early stages, Ysanne's company also served as a front for spies and saboteurs that still continue to undermine the Rebel efforts. Like Daala, Ysanne wanted to hurt the Rebels as much as she could, but unlike Daala, Ysanne was far more strategic, covert, and long-sighted in her approach. She had declined the temptation to link up with the renegade Admiral over the years, because, unlike Daala, she was being successful at damaging the New Republic in ways that gave her great satisfaction.
Typhani and Ysanne embraced each other tightly, and then stood back to look at each other. Typhani reached out and took her friend's hands. "You know there will be a place for you, Ysanne," she assured her.
"I know," Ysanne replied warmly. "I'm just so happy for you! I just couldnt believe it when I heard!" She was only a young girl when her father had introduced her to the Tarkins when they were newlyweds living on Coruscant during the waning days of the Republic. Ysanne had idolized Typhani, who was about twelve years her senior, because of her creativity and intelligence, and even adopted her look as she grew up. Ysanne had learned the truth about Adrian only days before (her employees had picked up the information just prior to Pellaeon's communiqué), but somehow she had always known he wasn't really gone.
She recalled the days she spent with Typhani shortly after the Battle of Yavin. She had been inconsolable, of course, and Ysanne speculated that she would be either insane or dead from grief within six months. When she received her invitations to the 13th Imperial Diplomatic Conclave--the conference that Typhani hosted a year after Yavin--Ysanne suspected that it wasn't over, that somehow Adrian lived on through Typhani.
"And there you are!" Ysanne greeted Adrian as she and Typhani ascended the terrace steps to the veranda. "You got all thawed out just to come home to Phelarion! Brrrrrrr!"
"Now Ysanne, you know whose fault that is," Adrian commented, looking up lovingly at Ysanne's best friend. Ysanne was somewhat shocked to see Adrian on the scooter.
"Is it permanent?" she whispered, leaning close to Typhani.
"We don't know yet," she answered as someone came out of the house behind them. "And at last, this is a connection that surely needs to be made!" Typhani exclaimed as Daala stepped our onto the veranda. "Ysanne, Daala," she said, taking their hands and clasping them together in her own. "There! That's much better!" The two younger women had, of course, heard of one another's reputations and their divergent yet complementary approaches, and they sat down to get acquainted in a conversation of their own. Daala, however, did not immediately recognize Ysanne.
"I am also Dreya Nal," Ysanne explained. "I hear you are also good at alternate identities," she continued congenially, referring to Daala's ruse at Carida. In fact, Daala's creation of a false identity for herself on Carida is what had given Typhani the idea to help Ysanne after Thrawn's death.
"The Rebels are really in trouble now," Bevel observed, looking on at the group that was steadily assembling. "Why, hello there, Daalabelle!" he said when he noticed his former Admiral's presence. That was the pet name that he had always called her to infuriate and enrage her, his close association with Tarkin the only reason he got away with it. He resisted the temptation to reach over and pinch her on the butt as she passed him. Dwyll was watching. Daala just ignored him, as usual, as she and Ysanne moved to the far end of the long table on the veranda.
Gilad Pellaeon was the next to arrive, followed shortly by Morgana and three cousins from Eriadu, Nolan, Raine, and Valdemar Tarkin, and Valdemar's fourteen-year-old daughter, Chantir. Nolan was an older gentleman, whereas siblings Raine and Valdemar were about Daala's age.
Chantir, who resembled a younger Lyjéa, looked up at her father and exclaimed, "Daddy! You said I'd get to meet Admiral Daala!"
"And you will, my little pet, just be patient!" Valdemar assured her.
"That's the millionth time, Chantir, since we left Eriadu!" Morgana admonished her. Valdemar made Chantir take a seat after introducing her to her Adrian. Morgana spotted Daala and went to talk to her just as Nasdra and Elizie Magrody arrived, along with their daughter, Shenna, who had just completed graduate school, and her fiancé, Irek Ismaren. Shortly on their heels came Rodin Verpalion, a long-time close friend of the family.
"Captain!" Ysanne greeted as Morgana concluded her little conspiracy with Daala.
"Hello, Ysanne," Morgana acknowledged. Then in the same vein as Bevel, "This is going to be good!"
"Not if you're a Rebel," Dwyll contributed.
"My Emperor," Gilad acknowledged.
"Now wait a minute, I'm not quite used to that just yet," Adrian said congenially as Gilad sat down next to him.
The many conversations progressed along with breakfast. Chantir looked absolutely crestfallen as she sat pouting in a side chair, her petite arms folded tightly across her chest. Lyscithea helped Taeodor into his Grampa Adrian's lap, just as Wilhuff threw a bit of dry cereal at Chantir. "Stop it, Wilhuff, you little idiot!" Chantir declared, and promptly began to chase her younger cousin around the table. Just as she rounded the far end of the table, a pair of strong female arms reached out and grabbed her about the waist.
"Tractor beam!" Daala declared playfully. As Chantir turned to face her idol, she found that she couldn't say a word!
"I wonder where young Chantir learned that expression," Adrian mused as he looked over at his wife. The New Republic teemed with little idiots.
When Lyjéa came down, she joined Ysanne and Daala. "She would be one of us" Ysanne thought, "if only circumstances had been better for her."
Wiping her hands with a dishtowel, Raycellna looked out the kitchen window at the activity on the veranda. "Everything is going to be all right now," she thought. She only wished that her dear little friend Rivoche was there. That would make things complete.
As everyone proceeded inside after breakfast, the conversation took on a debriefing tone. Typhani alerted Ysanne, "Dear, can you help Daala link us up to your computer network?" The three of them proceeded into Adrian's study, where Ysanne remotely logged on to her top-secret network and entered the codes that allowed for access and download capability. Daala tested the connection on one of the other terminals, impressed with the complexity and thoroughness of Ysanne's network and the valuable information it contained.
Daala had one more uplink to create, and so she got on the comm to her technical contact on Bastion to make sure that her four large data cells, which Adrian had ordered transported from Pedducis Chorios to the Imperial Archives on Bastion under tightest secrecy and security, had been properly linked and connected to a secure channel. No Rebels would intercept any of their plans this time. For the first time in years, Daala felt a faint sense of confidence and accomplishment as she entered what had been her password into the lab's computer banks, and recognized the still familiar access screens. The techs on Bastion had done a good job with the emulation of the lab's computer network. Only Adrian had full access to everything, though, and Daala moved aside as he took over the terminal and entered the codes that only he knew. Fortunately, he had remembered them. In another act of well-placed foresightedness, he had also created a duplicate of his database on Yaga Minor in the lab's computer banks. He could tell right away that his personal files had indeed never been accessed, personal files that would soon come to bear fruit now that he at long last had control of the Empire.
"You see," Adrian said to Daala, "you may well have saved the Empire after all. You've done far more than you know by preserving all of this." She only looked away. He decided to take a more commanding approach, as she had always unquestioningly accepted and respected his command. He looked around to make sure no one was listening to them, not wanting to hurt her by reprimanding her in front of the others. "Daala, look at me," he said softly but sternly, as he had done many times before to indicate that his next point was to be obeyed without question and never to be forgotten. She reluctantly looked up. He reached over and put a hand under her chin. "You have a self-esteem problem that will undermine our work here if allowed to continue. You are never again to refer to yourself as a failure, or to diminish the worth of your accomplishments or capabilities in any way. Is that understood, Admiral?"
She just nodded, but felt another surge of confidence as some of the long, lost color began to come back into her face. Such would not have been an adequate response in the field, but it was a start for now.
"That's better," Adrian continued. "Now show me where we were the last time I was there. Its time to move ahead to the future--to the future of our . . . " he trailed away, shaking his head slightly. His vision blurred out again, and the room started to spin. He started to slump forward, but Daala caught him in time.
"Adrian? What is it?" she asked, concerned.
Typhani came over to them then. "I think you've had enough for this morning," she told him, and took him back upstairs for a midday rest.
As the rest of the "Inner Circle" assembled on Phelarion throughout the afternoon, one chief question came to the forefront. "As I see it," a rested Adrian said to the others later that afternoon, "we must decide whether we shall seek at once to regain control of the entire galaxy, or rather to build upon what we have for the time being."
Moff Delta Crowal of the Valc Sector spoke up then. "Now we have an interesting variation to your Rule by Fear doctrine. The Rebels have never been able to get their act together. Systems may return of their own accord to our way of government out of fear of the chaos in the New Republic, and the Rebels inability to effectively dispatch the Vong."
"So we let come what will," Moff Ephin Saretti noted, "and then subjugate the rest when and if we see fit?"
"A resourceful approach," Moff Aerom Flennic commented.
"We do not currently have the resources to retake the entire galaxy," Gilad reminded them.
"It is settled, then," Adrian insisted. "We shall lure back whomever will come willingly, drawing upon their fears of what will happen to those systems that continue to align themselves with the ragtag Rebel-scum New Republic. We shall then revisit the notion of galactic redomination in a few months."
Adrian had already gotten about the business of putting together a government well before he left Lumin. For continuity's sake, and he knew that the Empire desperately needed continuity, he had decided to retain and oversee the current Imperial Remnant Council, with Crowal, Flennic, Viorska, Pellaeon, Saretti, Andray, Sander, Derran Takkar, and others remaining on board. Takkar would be particularly valuable in that he had managed to infiltrate the New Republic for a brief time. His wife, Anlys, and Typhani were also friends, both having attended the same prep school on Clear as members of the same sorority. Typhani had been the sorority's alumni advisor when Anlys was pledged. Adrian also immediately reinstated Ysanne Isard as the Director of Security and Intelligence and installed Daala as his Military Chief and Commander of the Imperial Fleet, although he would be doing quite a bit of the advising himself until he finished teaching her all that he had started so many years ago.
He also finally began to allow himself to think about what kind of Emperor he would be, now certain that no Vader, Thrawn, or Palpatine, nor clone nor pretender to such, was about to rise up and snatch this dream from him. He had never been the type for clandestine pomp and ceremony for their own sake, and had decided well before Yavin that he would not be a mysterious, inaccessible, cloaked figure steeped in the trappings of Jedi sorcery. He had no sensitivity whatsoever, as far as he knew, to the Jedi, Sith, or their Force, and he had always been an active, involved, hands-on leader, far more open-minded and innovative than his contemporaries.
Indeed, there had always been several points on which he and Palpatine had agreed to disagree. Palpatine's suppression of the creative arts had been one of the most critical points of dissention between the former Emperor and his first Grand Moff. Rank and favor meant privileges under Palpatine, and so the Tarkins themselves had been all but exempt from the creative famine. Still, Adrian recalled, he had attempted time and again to point out to Palpatine that his suppression of creative and artistic freedom stymied a less destructive outlet that those with rebellious intentions could have used instead of X-wing fighters, lightsabers, and such.
Another primary point of departure between the former Emperor and the present had been Palpatine's distaste for and distrust of women, people of color, and people with physical and mental challenges. While the two divergent leaders shared varying degrees of prejudice toward nonhuman species, the Outer Rim Territories under Grand Moff Tarkin had become known as a safe haven for minority humans. Many suspected this sentiment was primarily because of Lyjéa, and, of course, she had a good deal to do with it. When Ardus Kaine took the reins of Oversector Outer after Yavin, one point quickly brought to his attention was that ninety percent of the blind and visually impaired people in the galaxy lived in the Outer Rim Territories, necessitating a special bureau for their services, and Kaine also had to assimilate an inherited staff that contained many women and minorities, and, yes, more than a few aliens. Despite his overall prejudices, Adrian had always been willing to put competence above planetary origin, thus allowing for the most exceptional nonhumans. Kaine also found himself having to work to keep pace with his inherited personal secretary, Friedra Darre, a classy, very well educated, and very efficient Black lady who demanded that he keep to his schedule and mind his security detail. Kaine's term as Regional Governor was brief, too brief for him to establish his own legacy much beyond the Pentastar Alignment. That of his predecessor, however, continued and withstood the throes of galactic turmoil.
Those involved with security around the new Emperor had been concerned about and prepared for attempts at power-grabbing by any of the few warlords that remained after the last round of fighting with the New Republic. Only a handful of these individuals remained, but their behavior astonished everyone. Almost all of them had already sent messages of support to their new leader, most expressing their gratitude that the struggle for dominance, and the destruction it was causing their nation, was at last over. Daala screened these messages herself as they came in through the command center in the ballroom, and likened the warlords' behavior to that of a classroom full of noisy, naughty children when the headmaster walked in. Suddenly, everyone decided that they'd better behave.
As the evening wound down, Adrian indicated for Gilad to follow him into his study and to the computers. "About resources," Adrian said as he logged on to one of the three terminals in his study, "You would recall that I was a master of diversion. Do you remember my database on Yaga Minor?" Gilad nodded, realizing what was about to come. Adrian continued, "I have all sorts of little--and not so little--hidden fiscal pockets all over this galaxy. All we have to do now is consolidate everything."
Gilad seemed obviously relieved. Money had indeed been tight for the Imperial Remnant since the peace accord. "You never cease to amaze me," he said. "So that's what your personal files were all about," he continued as Adrian pulled up a spreadsheet displaying the scope of the hidden assets.
"We'll be just fine," Adrian said.
"More than fine," Gilad agreed as he looked down the columns of data. Their extensive efforts to bring Adrian back had already been more than worthwhile, but this, to Gilad, was ultimate confirmation.
"Now this is assuming everything is still there," Adrian cautioned him. They would task a few good people from Muunilinst with rounding up all of the hidden funds and transferring the same into the main Imperial treasury on Bastion.
As Gilad left to retire for the evening, Bevel Lemelisk hovered into his friend's study. They began to discuss all of the pain and strife that had transpired since Yavin, and to reminisce about an incredibly close call they once had. Adrian was astonished to learn that the Bevel Lemelisk who sat in the room with him was actually the seventh clone of the man he had known as his Chief Engineer. Bevel explained Palpatine's cruelty, cloning and killing, cloning and killing, to get another battle station out of him, without the benefit of help from his colleagues back at the Maw Installation. Adrian felt bad for his close friend and colleague, having not been there to protect him from such outrage.
"You never told anyone about the lab?" Adrian asked.
"No, of course not," Bevel answered. "I didn't know which would be worse--the Rebels finding out about it or Palpatine. Can you imagine what he would have done to Qwi and Tol? And, of course, I couldn't go back because I didn't know the way in."
"You see," Adrian said, "that's why I intended to use the station against Palpatine. He was totally out of control." And, Bevel felt terrible for the design flaw that had allowed the Rebels to destroy the first Death Star and put his benefactor into a protracted encounter with carbonite. Palpatine had blamed and punished Lemelisk for that as well.
They next turned their discussion to the design flaws, and where they had gone wrong with the two stations. Typhani looked in from the hall, and could sense the seriousness of their conversation. She pulled the study door closed to a crack, looked at her chronometer, and decided to let them alone for another half hour before suggesting to her husband that they retire for the night. Seeing them together talking technical, as they so often did, reminded her unpleasantly of the incident about a year before Yavin, another time she'd nearly lost Adrian, although it had been a mere prelude of what was to come.
* * *
Typhani had come in from the mine offices for the evening and looked in on her daughters to make sure they were doing their homework. "Oh, Mom, Dad called," Lyscithea told her mother.
"Oh really? So they're at the station already? How did the test flight go?" she asked.
Ten-year-old Lyscithea did not look away from her computer. "They didn't do it yet," she said. "But get this! When they were about to jump to hyperspace from Eriadu, they got shot up by Rebels, and they had to get in the escape pod! Dad said he got a little scorched and sprained his bad ankle again, and Uncle Bevel broke his nose! Dad said they saw the Rebels blow the shuttle to bits, and it was really cool!"
Lyscithea did not even notice that every drop of color had drained out of her mother's face, and that she had dropped her handbag and a handful of papers. "Shot at by Rebels! Escape pod!" she shrieked.
"Yeah, but they're okay now," Lyscithea reassured her mother. "It was only three Y-wings."
"They blew up the shuttle?" Typhani asked breathlessly, her knees shaking.
"That's what Dad said," Lyscithea confirmed. "He said he'd try to catch you later, though."
Typhani had so often worried about Adrian darting around the galaxy in unmarked shuttles without proper escort. She recalled speaking to her cousin, who was also her husband's second-in-command on the Death Star project, about it at the last official event they had attended together. Admiral Raolf Motti initially laughed at Typhani and gave it back to her in like kind. "And how many times to we go flitting off to the Mall of the Empire without an adequate security detail, my dearest Lady Tarkin?" he teased.
"That's different," she had told him, then turned away as someone called out to her.
"It's not different," Motti had chuckled under his breath, but agreed with Typhani that someone needed to keep an eye on Adrian, especially as the Rebellion escalated. Raolf had taken it upon himself to be that eye. He had arrived with his Destroyer just in time to drive the Y-wings away from the escape pod and recover it.
Typhani paced the floor the evening her daughter told her of the Rebel assassination attempt on her husband. Such had always been among her worst fears--her very worst being that the Rebels would somehow manage to poison all of them. When her comm finally beeped, she nearly tore it from its port.
"Adrian! What happened!" she demanded.
He proceeded to repeat the same story as he had told his youngest daughter earlier that afternoon, but he had some bad news that he didn't want to relay directly to his children. Typhani asked before he could get to it. "Where's Ackbar!"
He was silent for a moment.
"Adrian?" Typhani prompted him.
"The Rebels got Ackbar. There was room in the pod only for Bevel and me," he explained.
"What am I going to tell the girls!" Typhani asked tightly.
"Don't tell them anything yet," Adrian said. "Maybe he'll get loose and come home." He declined to tell his wife that their pet Mon Cal had turned on him, dropping the shuttle's shields as the Rebels attacked.
* * *
But, of course, Ackbar never came home. Instead, he had turned Rebel and assumed command of their entire fleet, costing the Empire numerous defeats--including the most critical one at Endor during which the second Death Star had been destroyed and Vader and Palpatine were killed. After all, Ackbar had learned from the Empire's master strategist and tactician, and then betrayed him, but perhaps not so in the end. The aftermath of Endor had left the Imperial throne empty for nearly two decades. In a way, Ackbar had, through his traitorous actions, actually, albeit unwittingly, made way for Adrian.
As the last of their guests either retired to the guest suites on the third and fourth floors of the house, or left for the evening, Adrian and Typhani went up to bed early. After they got into their night clothes and Typhani helped her husband into bed, she walked across the room and opened a cabinet teeming with holovids next to the large-plate holovision opposite their bed. She stood back, thoughtful for a moment, holding her chin in her hand. "Scythi's wedding?" she asked Adrian, looking over her shoulder. She had scrupulously and lovingly recorded every single major family event for him--every vacation, every Winter Holiday, every birthday, the girls' graduations (which included one for Rivoche, two for Lyscithea, and four for Lyjéa), Vader's and Palpatine's memorial services, his own memorial services, the births and homecomings of each of their grandsons, and countless other occasions.
The wedding vid was especially spectacular. Typhani had ordered that one made professionally. Adrian had wondered who had stood in for him, but had never gotten around to asking. Now he looked on with a sense of pride and satisfaction as he watched his lifelong best friend, Raith Sienar, give his baby daughter away. "You made the choice I would have made," he told Typhani.
"I thought so," she said, and moved a bit closer to him. The cabinet contained enough holovids to provide them viewing material each evening for nearly a year. Typhani had reading material for him as well. When the wedding vid concluded, she went into her dressing room and came back with a small but heavy wooden trunk, which she set on the bed between them. "You once asked me what I did with these when I was finished," she reminded him as she lifted the lid to reveal a quarter century's worth of journals that she had written specifically for him--indeed, the galaxy's longest love letter. These evening viewings and readings would come as a welcome relief to Adrian after so many long hours of dealing daily with governmental matters, which he enjoyed intensely, but which also tired him easily and sometimes caused him a great deal of stress.
For the next several weeks, members of the Imperial Inner Circle cycled in and out of the Tarkins' estate on Phelarion as Adrian prepared himself to lead the Imperial Remnant. They brought him information, held meetings, issued communiqués, and answered his many questions. He and Daala spent countless hours at their computer terminals, and so she and Typhani would transfer Adrian into a more comfortable office chair that provided better support for the longer sessions. Twenty-five years of volatile history was, of course, a great deal to assimilate in only a couple of months, especially in his compromised condition. Typhani began to fear whether it might be too much for him, perhaps for both of them, ever watchful, ever protective. And ever wise . . .
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