Chapter 13:
A Struggle Greater Than Any Battle
"Where is Daala?" Adrian asked as he logged in to one of the computer terminals in his study. He'd just gotten more disturbing reports from the New Republic, and the time had come to begin making official contingency plans for dealing with the Yuuzhan Vong.
"She went into town this morning," Typhani replied, straightening some things on the credenza. "I think she had a follow-up. And don't forget, you have one In a few days. We need to begin preparing for the trip back to Lumin." He wasn't looking forward to that.
"Daala didn't go into town by herself, did she?" he asked with a twinge of concern.
"I'm not . . . sure . . ." she said just as Daala came into the room, trembling visibly, no color in her face. Adrian turned around then. Daala looked utterly shattered, a look such that neither of them had ever seen before, on anyone. Typhani went to her. "Daala, what is it? Are you all right?" she asked.
She shook her head, and sank down on the sofa. Typhani sat down next to her and put an arm around her as Adrian came over to join them. "What's wrong, Daala?" Typhani asked again.
She looked back and forth between them. Now they could tell that she was fighting back tears, and that very much out-of-character behavior concerned them all the more. Typhani quickly got up to close the study door, then came back to Daala and took her shaking hands. She finally got it out, "I . . . have to . . . have a . . . a transplant--both lungs . . . " Her head sank as Typhani and Adrian shot alarmed looks at each other. Typhani pulled her close. She was fighting it hard now, too hard, and her hands went to her chest in a futile attempt to stifle the pain.
"Let it out, Daala," Typhani encouraged her.
"It's all right. It's just us here. You can't keep holding everything inside anymore. It isn't good for you," Adrian said as he transferred off of his scooter onto the sofa. He and Typhani ensconced Daala in their mutual embrace, as if they could somehow heal her.
"Let it go now. You need to let it all out, all the past, everything that's done this to you," Typhani urged her gently again, and pulled her a little closer. Adrian reached down into her bag and handed her a newly refilled inhaler in case she needed it.
Daala had never been one to let her tears flow freely. She had always forced them back through sheer strength, converting them to some other form of energy, such as anger or resolve. But now, after so many years of defeat--and now with her own body defeating her--her strength was utterly gone. Her weakened internal floodgates were about to break, and she knew not whether she would ever be able to rein them in again . . .
At first, only a few tight sobs broke through, and she clenched her fists as her entire body tensed, as if she were somehow giving birth to her own anguish. Then, at last, she cried out openly and reached for Adrian, the only real protector she had ever known. "We'll take you back to Lumin," Adrian assured her, pressing her head to his shoulder. "You'll get only the best, and you'll be all right. We'll help you through this." He and Typhani made no effort to stop her, but every effort to comfort and reassure her. Three days later, they disembarked for Lumin, fully expecting to be back home on Phelarion by the end of the week.
The Rebels would have had great fun if they had even known that the mighty and illustrious Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin was so claustrophobic. After a normal battery of initial exams and tests and the like, it was time for what he dreaded the most about this follow-up, another HLI, or holographic laser imaging, scan. Although it took over three hours to complete with the subject fully enclosed and immobilized in a cramped cylindrical chamber, this advanced procedure rendered a highly detailed three-dimensional hologram of the individual in which layers such as skin, muscle, and various organ systems could be edited out of the resulting image, allowing closer and unobstructed observation of target systems or areas. This time, the scan would reveal how well the cell regeneration treatment had actually worked, and whether any problems remained, or if any new ones had taken hold. Getting Adrian through it was another matter altogether. The last time, the doctors had finally resorted to a mild general anesthetic, and decided to do so again this time as well.
With Adrian well occupied for the next four hours, Typhani went to Daala. By this time, she was slowly coming out of her own anesthetic. Entering her body between the ribs with a laparoscope, the surgical droids had taken segments of what little healthy tissue remained from the exterior of each lung, where there was less damage from the chemicals, to grow new lobes for transplant in about six to eight weeks. Overall, the news was not good; Daala had only ten percent of her lung capacity remaining, and her sinus cavities, throat, and trachea were also heavily scarred. Now if only her cultures would grow fast enough to save her.
She was only barely conscious, but Typhani could tell she was in pain. Even though she knew it would put Daala right back to sleep, she took the analgesic self-administrator from her hand and depressed the button for her.
They would be staying overnight, and so, while Daala was still sleeping, Typhani rose to go back to Adrian's room to make sure the servant droid had prepared their things for the evening. She was about halfway down the hall when Tierra Keldwyyn unexpectedly came up behind her. "Tierra! How are you? It's good to see you," she acknowledged. Typhani thought Tierra had merely spotted her, and had come to greet her. But then she noticed the look on her face.
Tierra reached out and took Typhani by the arm to steady her. "There's a problem," she began. As she had expected, Typhani panicked.
"What's wrong?" she asked pensively, then called out, "Adrian!" She pulled away and started to run down the corridor. Tierra quickly overtook her, stepped In front of her, and grasped her by both shoulders this time. She led Typhani into Adrian's room and forced her to sit down on the bed.
"We've already taken him out of the scanner and down to surgery," Tierra continued, but did not let go of Typhani, who winced violently at that comment. "The scanner located an aneurysm, here," Tierra continued, and then reached around to touch Typhani at the base of her skull on the right side. "It was not in immediate danger of bursting, but space flight and the type of stress hes dealing with could cause it to rupture unexpectedly, so we have to get it now. We're going to route some healthy artery around it, and then remove it, and so he should be fine again in a few days. There's no cause to panic. We're taking care of him," she concluded.
Typhani was shaking uncontrollably. "That's the same thing that killed his father!" she cried.
"Yes, we know. That's also why we decided to act so quickly, It should only take a couple of hours, though," Tierra explained. She sat with Typhani for awhile until she calmed down. But just as Tierra was about to leave, they heard a commotion in the corridor outside the room. Another patient had coded just down the hall. Instinctively, Typhani knew.
"Daala!" she called out, and tore herself away from Tierra. The scene horrified Typhani as she raced into the room. Daala's lungs had unexpectedly filled with fluid, and three druids, two nurses, and a doctor hovered over her. Her jaw had clamped shut such that they couldn't separate it to draw the fluid away, and so one of the nurses had put her head back as it looked as though one of the surgical druids was about to cut her throat.
"Come on, you don't want to watch this," Tierra said, and led Typhani reluctantly out of the room. They sat down on a bench in the corridor.
Typhani slumped forward with her head in her hands, and burst Into tears. "What am I going to do!" she cried.
"She'll be all right. They just have to get the fluid off. This happens sometimes," Tierra assured her. Within the hour, Daala was indeed settled again, and they let Typhani go back to her. She was awake this time, but with a bacta patch across her throat and unable to speak, there was only pain and fear, an thin tears, in her eyes. Then she noticed that Adrian was not there, and sensed from Typhani that something else had gone terribly wrong. She just put a soothing hand across her forehead and depressed the analgesic button again.
Typhani then went to the medcenter's communications tower where she could get a secure channel out to Bastion, to call Gilad, and then her daughter on Phelarion.
"Is he all right?" Lyscithea cried in utter panic, reaching up to take her husband's outstretched hand. "Both of them?" she continued. "I can't get away! I have meetings about three new contracts tomorrow, and the quarterly fiscal briefing, and--" Kormath put his arms lovingly and protectively around his wife at that point. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get hold of Lyjéa and Aunt Morgana, just let me know what's going on, okay? Yeah, Mom, I love you, too. I just wish I could be there." Lyscithea then relayed the family's latest horrors to her husband. Kormath sighed and shook his head. He didn't know how much more his mother-in-law could take.
In their loft condominium on Eriadu, Lyjéa and Sabine lounged in their whirlpool spa, engaged in idle conversation. "My mother is in universal bliss," Lyjéa commented. "She has people to take care of again." At that, the comm beeped, and Sabine put down her wine glass to reach for it.
"Oh, hi, Scythi," Sabine greeted warmly to the voice on the other end. "Yeah, she's right here. What's wrong?"
Sabine handed the comm to Lyjéa, and Lyscithea explained the current crisis to her sister. "Scythi, it's all right, I understand that you can't get away. I can go. I'm not teaching this semester, remember?" Lyjéa reassured her sister. She then relayed the urgent circumstances to Sabine.
"Oh, my goodness," Sabine commented as she climbed out of the spa. "Isn't that the same thing that happened to your grandfather?"
"Yes, but thank the universe they've caught this one in time. A few more days and everything we've gone through could have been for naught," Lyjéa said, feeling for her robe.
Back on Lumin, Tierra and two druids were transferring Adrian from a recovery stretcher into bed. "Your Excellency, you've had a very close call," Tierra said softly as she pulled the blankets up. He was finally coming around.
"Tierra?" he asked, then reached up toward the back of his head.
"No, don't touch that, and stay on your side. We can't put any pressure on it right now," she said as she pulled his hand away from the dressing.
"What . . . " he began, but then tensed up as a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his head. Tierra put his own analgesic self-administrator in his hand. By that point, he knew very well what it was and how and when to use it, but didn't understand why he presently needed it.
"The scanner found an aneurysm, similar to your family history. We had to take care of it immediately, but it's gone now. You should be back to normal in a week or so," she assured him.
"Typhani . . . " he called out weakly.
"She's sitting with Admiral Daala. I'll get her," Tierra said, and then left the room to get Typhani.
Tierra found Typhani sitting next to Daala, holding her hand, and talking softly to her. "Lady Tarkin," Tierra said softly to get her attention, then motioned for her to come. Typhani pulled Daala's blankets up and stroked her head reassuringly as she got up to leave.
"What am I to do with you two?" Typhani asked lovingly as she sank down next to her husband and grasped his hands tightly.
"Is she all right?" he asked.
Typhani felt it best to be honest. "No, Adrian, she's not doing well," she said, and then explained to him all that had transpired that afternoon, and assured him that Gilad and the rest of the Council had been alerted to what happened.
Late in the night, Rohmm Cydras came in to get Typhani to assist them with keeping Daala calm. Her lungs had filled again . . .
When Lyjéa arrived the next morning, her security detail assisted her in locating her mother. Typhani was still with Daala, and she looked utterly haggard and exhausted. She was thankful her daughter couldn't see that. "Just take care of your father," Typhani told her.
"But Mother, you should be with him. I'll deal with Daala," Lyjéa insisted.
"You can't," Typhani began to explain. "She's got a tube in her trachea to keep the fluid drawn off her lungs, and so she can't speak to you." Lyjéa winced at that. She knew it was bad, but she hadn't expected that.
"All right," Lyjéa said quietly, and ducked into her father's room. He was awake, but still a bit off-kilter. "You've got to stop scaring us like this," she admonished him.
"I'd love to," he said as she sat down next to him, "but it seems that fate is intent on dealing me these blows." He was glad Lyjéa was there, that she had time to be there, yet his concern did not center on himself. He needed to speak with her about something important, and he told her so. "You mustn't give up just yet, Lyjéa," he said.
"What?" she asked, not following him.
"You have your tenure now, no?" he asked.
"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" she asked, still confused.
"It seems that, except for the little new problem I had yesterday, the cell regeneration treatment I underwent while I was here before has worked quite well," he told her.
"But you still can't stand or walk--you can still barely sit up without something to your back," she observed, but she understood his line of reasoning then. "Do you think it might work?" she asked, the realization dawning on her.
"I don't know, Lyjéa, like all the other things before, I don't know. But I do think you should try it. You're half Phelarian, and so you are still far too young to give up just yet," he reminded her. Lyjéa sat back in her chair in thoughtful contemplation. Her father was right. She could expect perhaps another seven to eight decades of life if she took good care of herself.
It did not appear, however, that Daala would be as fortunate. Later that afternoon, Tierra gathered everyone in Adrian's room for a briefing on her circumstances and outlook. "We've pulled her records from the medcenter on Pedducis Chorios, and her lungs have been getting steadily worse for years, even with regular bacta breathing treatments. They are very weak now, and her condition is too volatile to let her go home. We're going to have to keep her here until her transplant," she said. She refrained from telling the Tarkins that the doctors on Pedducis Chorios had officially listed Daala's condition as terminal, with a twelve to eighteen month life expectancy without further intervention, which, of course, they were unable to provide on that desolate outpost of a world. Why, Tierra wondered, had she not sought help elsewhere, but she didn't voice this concern as it no longer mattered. Now Daala was in the capable halls of the famous Andromeda Center, and intervention was at hand--except that her most recent medrecords were already a year old. Tierra feared that she may have waited too long to seek help, but this too she kept to herself.
Adrian felt that he should go to her at that point, and so Tierra and Typhani got him up into a hoverchair and they moved their gathering to Daala's room for awhile. She noticed that Adrian looked pale and weak, but at least he was still there this time. Typhani had explained to her what had happened to him.
Although it took him a few days longer than they expected, he finally began to get his strength back to the point where it had been when the fateful scan began. He made plans to go to Bastion for awhile instead of traveling home to Phelarion, to make preparations for dealing with the Yuuzhan Vong should they overstep the Imperial Remnant's borders. Bastion was much closer to Lumin, and so he could get back quickly if need be. Typhani was, of course, uneasy about the trip, but she knew that the time had come for him to assume more of his duties as the new Emperor. "I shall have to meet specifically with Aerom Flennic," he told his wife with a hint of warning in his tone. Typhani was familiar with Flennic's military expertise, and she knew at once what her husband meant.
"Adrian, you'll kill Daala outright if you do that!" she insisted vehemently.
He looked away. "We have to have a strong military presence with a clear chain of command In the leadership, Typhani. The Rebels will come at us if we don't. Or worse, we'll attract the attention of the Yuuzhan Vong. They're on a veritable rampage through the New Republic--they've just hit Kalarba--same result as Sernpidal. Soon, they'll be just the other side of the Unknowns and the local Chiss territory. We must be prepared. For now, I shall install Flennic on an interim basis until we know what, if anything, Daala will be able to do," he explained.
"And what if she can't do anything?" she asked, strong concern in her voice.
"Then we will take care of her," he assured her. "Typhani, Daala is a military officer. She will understand why I must do this. It may upset her on a personal level, but she will understand."
"I don't like sending you off like this," she said tightly.
"I know. I have to admit that my own confidence is at last a bit shaken by all that has happened, but we must move forward for the good of the Empire," he reminded her. Those words again. Words of perpetual sacrifice, they were.
"Perhaps I should come with you?" she suggested.
"No. You said yourself that we can't allow Daala to feel abandoned again. She needs you to stay with her. I have the droid, and I'm staying with Paleb and Grendel, so everything will be fine."
"Adrian, there's something I've been meaning to ask you . . . about the Vong. It's obvious that they're out to destroy the New Republic, and they detest Jedi as much as we do. I've never thought of it in this way before, but they just might be powerful allies. Perhaps we should . . . extend an invitation, establish relations," she speculated.
"Not with these aliens, Typhani. They want to wreak havoc on the entire galaxy and take it all for themselves. I initially thought the same thing, and I actually admired some of their strategies. I wish I had thought of some of them myself. Perhaps I wouldn't be sitting on this thing if I had. But I've seen the classified reports, and you're better off not knowing what I've read. They despise our technology as well as Jedi. Their methods and beliefs are nothing like ours, and neither are their ships or weapons. Our notion of standard warfare isn't very effective against them. We must develop new and different tactics if we are to defend ourselves, and that's where I come in. Besides, we've already participated in an attack against them. They aren't the kind to forget that." Typhani realized then that the situation was far more serious than she realized. Adrian continued as he pulled his briefbag up into his lap. "If not the Vong themselves, we'll likely be dealing with large influxes of refugees soon. Naturally, I suppose, the Imperial Remnant would be the last place New Republic refugees would want to come, but they're about out of places to run. I think they just might find our terms and conditions of asylum, reaffirming loyalty to the New Order, that is, preferable to extermination by the Vong. So perhaps you're right. Perhaps they're unwitting allies after all, if we can keep them from ravaging our own territory, that is. I have to go now." Then he reached out to her, one hand over her throat and the other over her solar plexus, and she reflexively returned the gesture.
Back on Phelarion, Lyscithea had finally come to a good stopping point in her current run of business meetings. "Kormath, can you handle the boys for a few days," she asked as she stepped into her husband's study. "I'd like to go to Lumin and give Mom and Lyjéa a break."
"Yeah, sure, but why the sudden concern? I didn't think you liked Daala," her husband reminded her.
"She's . . . one of us now," Lyscithea replied. "Dad feels responsible for her, after all she went through without him, and Mom's gotten very much attached to her. Empty nest syndrome, you know. Besides, the boys, they adore her. Anyway, I'm doing this for Mom and Lyjéa."
Little Bevel was near tears when his mother explained to him and his brothers where she was going and why. "Admiral Daala isn't going to die, is she?" he asked.
Lyscithea pulled her middle son into her lap as the other two drew close. "We certainly hope not, but she is very sick," she told them frankly.
"What's wrong with her? How come she's in the hospital" Wilhuff asked.
"She was in a battle once, before you were born, and the spaceship she was in caught fire. She accidentally breathed in some hot chemicals while she was getting out of the spaceship, and they burned her lungs very badly. So now she has to have an operation to help her breathe better. Grampa Adrian and Gramma Typhani are with her, and I'm going to go help them take care of her," Lyscithea explained. "So why don't you two go get on your computers and make her a couple of nice, bright get-well banners that we can put up in her room. Now you two run along while I call Gramma and let her know I'm coming."
Typhani welcomed Lyscithea's presence, and it also gave Lyjéa an opportunity to go home for awhile and discuss her father's idea with her domestic partner. Sabine was elated by the proposal, and wanted to know if she could have some cell regeneration formula as well. Full, true, sweet independence beckoned to the two blind women, more so to Sabine than to Lyjéa. The latter would settle for seeing her father's face just once.
Although Daala seemed to cling to Typhani, she readily shrank from Lyscithea. She had sensed her animosity the first night they met. Daala understood that Lyscithea considered her a potential "home wrecker," and she could understand why. "I don't blame you for hating me," she said one morning when they were alone.
Lyscithea seemed startled by that. Yes, she had her suspicions and concerns, but nothing that ran that deep. "What? Daala, I don't hate you," Lyscithea assured her. "I just don't want to see my parents get hurt, especially now."
"I know," Daala acknowledged. "I wish I'd been able to know your mom before. I wish they had just come to me. I wouldn't have hesitated for a moment to help them give you another brother or sister."
Lyscithea then remembered her mother's frantic cries on the comm a few nights ago when both her father and Daala had become unexpectedly ill, and recalled as well her own sons' reactions. For the first time, Lyscithea allowed herself to feel what her mother had sensed that first night on Lumin, and she found herself able to look upon Daala as sort of a foster-sister. "Maybe you're doing that now," she suggested.
"Me?" Daala asked, as the realization came to her as well.
"They care very much for you, Daala. We all do." With that, Lyscithea pulled out the bright and colorful "Get Well Aunt Daala" banners that the boys had made. "See?" Lyscithea continued. "They think that destroying Rebels in space ship battles is 'way more cool' that firing some slacker moss harvester or giving a lazy student a big, red F!" She looked away for a moment as Daala took in the boys' colorful affections. "You've got to beat this, Daala," Lyscithea continued. "It'll tear Mom apart if you don't. And little Bevel, when I told him I was coming here, he cried because he was afraid you might not come back. So you see, no one hates you here."
Both of their heads turned then as the door to Daala's room opened. Lyscithea's thought was that her mother had not napped nearly long enough.
"An Imperial Admiral flat on her back? 'Can't have that--not regulation!" Morgana quipped as she put her shuttle carryon bag down. Then to her niece, "I got away as soon as I could. I've about had my fill of that business, I tell you." Morgana's latest business venture was an aviary where she raised exotic birds, much to her family's relief. Morgana seemed to take on a new professional identity with each passing decade. During the decade before the aviary, she'd been a funeral director. Not a pleasant thought, Lyscithea mused, as she looked down at Daala.
Even though her breathing was always labored now, Daala seemed to be all right, as long as she just lay quietly, which, for once in her life, she seemed content to do. Typhani read to her and provided her with copious books and magazines, and she watched more holovision than she ever had before. Typhani grew very weary of military documentaries, and so Morgana would sit with her instead. This precarious equilibrium lasted only a couple of weeks, however. Then one afternoon, without warning, Daala's right lung finally gave out altogether, and the left one was no longer strong enough to support her on its own.
"She's dying . . . " Typhani whispered to Morgana and Lyscithea as a medic droid wheeled the ventilator into the room. She turned to her daughter. "Go to the comm tower, get a secure channel out to Bastion, and call your father. Don't tell him how bad it is. Just tell him to come, quickly."
Typhani met her husband and Gilad in the hallway. Adrian could tell immediately by the look on her face that it was bad as soon as he hovered up to her. "They . . . um . . . they're not sure if she's going to make it," Typhani reported shakily. "They don't have time for her own cultures to finish growing, so now they're . . . they're looking for a compatible cadaver donor." The Empire had an effective system for stockpiling and cataloging donor organs, and with the war, there was little shortage. Upon a host's death, all usable tissue was removed and put into carbonite storage, each container bearing a data chip with all relevant information. This information, was, in turn, entered into a main computer where searches and matches could be achieved easily. This procedure shortened the wait time for patients in need from weeks to days, including retrieval and transport time. Alternately, cybernetic implants were available, but restrictively cumbersome and less effective.
"This isn't happening," Adrian said in frustration as he hovered into the room behind his wife. Daala looked almost deathlike, now on full respiratory support.
As Adrian and Typhani moved close to her, Gilad reached down and gently took her hand. It felt limp and lifeless. This was her ultimate defeat, he thought. Surely nothing worse than this could ever happen to her again. "Hang on, Daala," he urged her, hoping that she could hear him and knew that he was there. He had been there when all this started, and he remembered the day he picked up her lifepod after the destruction of the Knight Hammer.
* * *
Daala had climbed out of the pod and promptly resigned under her own power, standing rigid before him until he completed his response to her. She took a couple of tentative steps toward him, then collapsed into his arms, her battered body wracked with convulsive coughing spasms, and he realized that the exchange that had just taken place between them must have consumed every nanogram of her strength to accomplish. He had also noticed that when she first stepped out of the pod. one side of her face had been smeared with blood, but he initially could not tell where it had come from. As she lay struggling and gasping for every short and labored breath, he realized that the blood was indeed her own, and that she was drowning in it. He knew at once that she had inhaled something very toxic, and that the toxins had been ravaging her system for days. Dehydration had further complicated her circumstances, as she had gone too quickly through her water in an attempt to quench the inferno in her lungs and throat. A few more hours, he realized, and they would have recovered only a corpse. She spent several days in sick bay recovering from the ordeal, and then went to spend the rest of her recovery with Stroma Veers.
* * *
Two nights later, Adrian and Typhani were startled awake when Rohmm Cydras burst into the room the hospital staff had set up for them adjacent to Daala's and, in his upbeat way, announced, "We've got lungs! The shuttle's on its way in right now!" Although they knew full well that Daala might not survive the operation, they refused to say anything like good-bye to her as Rohmm and the others got ready to move her, sending her into their care with only soft words of encouragement and reassurance.
"Don't give up, Daala. You'll be all right," Adrian assured her, knowing that his familiar advice had been well reinforced over the years..
"And we're not leaving you. We'll be right here when you come back, and you'll be able to breathe on your own again," Typhani added. Reluctantly, they let go of her as the druids took her away.
Adrian had never felt more responsible for what had happened to Daala as that long night crept by. He and Typhani sat side by side, handfast, and in silence. What energy they had was being directed elsewhere, as they'd done when they had entrusted Lyjéa to a similar medical team when she was only eight years old. Both thought about the similarity of the two circumstances, their emotions, their concerns, their fears, and, although neither spoke of it, each perceived the same sentiments from the other. In essence, in their hearts, they finally adopted Daala that night.
Early the next morning, and after two hours in recovery, two medic droids moved Daala back to her room, Typhani and Adrian in immediate pursuit. Typhani leaned over her and pulled her fur throw over her for warmth. "Daala, you need to wake up now. Where are those emerald eyes?" she said, gently stroking her face with the back of her hand. Daala was still under the heavy influence of the anesthetic, but she finally managed to open her eyes as Typhani hovered over her. "There you are," she said softly, reaching down to take her hand in her own and placing her other gently on the side of her face as Adrian stroked the top of her head. "You're going to be all right now, Daala. We love you and we want you with us. You're not an orphan anymore."
"I know," Daala whispered weakly. It would be several weeks before her voice would at last return to normal. Her shell, her guard, her former demeanor now completely stripped away by years of rejection, struggle, and defeat, Daala finally allowed herself to drink in their comforts utterly, even though Typhani was smothering her like someone a tenth of her age. Still, the frightened, deprived, rejected little girl still trapped deep inside her needed Typhani's affections, and Adrian's protection. In so many ways, in so many full circles of circumstance, they were at once everyone and everything to her. She looked up again, thin tears welling up in her eyes. "Typhani . . . hold me," she cried.
"She's never known a mother's touch," Adrian told her. Typhani leaned close and gently kissed her on the forehead, then held her as closely as she could, being careful not to hurt her.
In their intense doting over her, Adrian and Typhani did not notice the man who had appeared briefly in the doorway, and then walked away, having faked his way past the security detail with the personal information he possessed. He hadn't wanted to disturb or upset Daala, or even see her for that matter. He only wanted to make sure that she would be all right after learning of her latest predicament. When he observed the Tarkins with her, no doubts remained in his mind that she would be. After all, he was the one who had stepped aside and sent her back to them. He knew then that he had done the right thing, and so he walked away once more, passing Morgana and Lyscithea on his way out, yet again releasing Daala into that which nurtured and fulfilled her.
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