Post 2
His name was Tristan.
Tris-tan. Tris-tan.
At the time the name meant nothing. In fact there would be days in the weeks following where I would curse his name for coming into my life and making my peaceful existence one of pure impatience.
That conversation I had with Nestor was one of the hardest I have ever had to have. For some doctors, informing the family of death is the hardest. Not for me. It is not indifference, but I know that with time the loved one's can move on, and allow happy memories of the dead to overtake them, muting the rawness of emotion and outpouring of grief, forgetting that I was the catalyst.
I know, I was once in their place.
Stasis. Coma. Asleep. Alive, but dead. Dead, but alive.
All it leaves the family, those left behind, with is time. They are left in a limbo, forced to watch the victim waste away until death finally comes.
I know, I am in their place.
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He could hear their hushed whispers; he swam in darkness unable to move forward or back. How long had he been here? Where was Elbereth?
Mama? Sorn?
Anian?
Then it came back--the bomb, Iker, the grove, Iker, the oppressive heavy ache and suffocation that had dried Valdet into dry tinder waiting for the spark. Iker.
Why was he just staying here, in this blackened hell. What happened? Where was he? The longer he stayed here, the further he would get. His fists clenched, a scream filled his ears, and his ears pounded with fury. Iker had to pay.
He …had…to…get…out…..
He pushed.
Pushed.
And the light blinded him.
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Dr. Keladry Stanton heard Tristan Romani long before she arrived at his room. As she walked swiftly along the green and blue tiled walls that marked the 32nd floor Stasis Ward, the banging and incoherent sounds emitting from the corner room caused her to flinch, recalling studies on post-coma dementia.
From her vantage point at the end of the hall she saw two orderlies carrying restraints run into the room. Moments later she stepped in front of the door, her hand flying to her heart, as she took in the disordered and chaotic tableaux before her.
Tristan Romani, the human male who had been lying in stasis for the better part of three weeks, was standing by the far side of the room, fully clothed, his hospital gown and the restraints angrily discarded against the wall. He did not notice the doctor entering the room, because his attention focused on struggling to stay upright, refusing the orderlies offer of support, or ignoring them as they tried to calm him down. At the only exit to the room, she could tell that the full wrath of his anger was directed towards his cousin Nestor. She glanced at the older gentleman's eyes taking in the glint of immense grief and pain before they quickly shifted back to a steady resolve.
"Nestor, are you listening to me?!!" She stopped the urge to cover her ears at the volume.
"Yes Doctor." Steady, hushed, respectful.
Keladry glanced between the two, confused. Doctor? This perception changed as she remembered the neat bandaging on Mr. Romani's ribcages, and suddenly the title made more sense.
Tristan slammed his hand on the bed frame, contact emitting a muted ring. "We have to leave, I saw him. He's getting away-I can't stay here any longer. Why are you just standing there!"
"We can't leave Doctor."
"Like sith we can!" Keladry observed as the man's face broke into a snarl.
"No, we cannot." Purposefully, Nestor injected a bit more force so this last statement was snapped off.
Obviously fed up, her patient moved, suddenly finding a reservoir of energy. "Fine, I'll go myself-" Tristan let go of the bed he was holding onto for support, and lunged for the small table, willing his legs to walk succeeding only in knocking over the metal cup and bowl in his way. The bowl slammed into the remote to the holovid remote that was already lying on the floor, immediately causing the volume in the room to double. This time Keladry did cover her ears and observed as Nestor lunged to the floor snatching the remote up, lowering the volume.
She removed her hands watching carefully as her patient's face twisted in pain. Keladry could see him physically push all that he was feeling to the back of his mind. He stood straight, and almost immediately collapsed again.
Softly, but forcefully she cleared her throat. "That's enough." She glanced at the orderlies and flicked her wrist. "Get him back into bed." For a moment, it looked like Tristan was going to struggle indefinitely against them before the obvious fatigue kicked in and took over. His labored breathing was evident, and it was only after the orderlies had been dismissed that Nester looked away from his cousin and acknowledged her presence. "Dr. Stanton."
"Nestor." She turned to her patient, whose sudden silence was marked only by a low hum from the vid screen's replay of the Ord Mantell Blockade Runner's Derby from two weeks ago, the holoreporters still talking about how it had been won by the youngest crew, whose dual roles as Jedi brought some extra controversy. Annoyed, she looked at the screen, and briefly recognized Han Solo's face before waving the set off.
Tristan was in some overt pain, his eyes squeezed shut as if willing it away. It was to be expected, considering the number of injuries he had, but while a little anger was normal, it normally exhibited itself after the lost time was discovered. At this point, most coma patients were simply glad to be alive.
"Mr. Romani, my name is Doctor Stanton. I have been treating you since your accident, do you remember what happened?" She slowly removed his right arm from where it was clenched around his mid-section and began manually taking his blood pressure.
Silence.
"Well, you were hit by a speeder outside the hospital, pushing you into a coma. Your cousin Nestor has been looking after you since then."
Silence.
"I was the Doctor on Scene when you were hit, and there are some questions about your medical history that I would like to go over. First, though, I am going to give you something for the pain, alright?" She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a syringe.
On the bed, Tristan processed her words. Pain, without pain you can leave. At a normal pitch, his voice resonated hoarsely, "What …is...it?"
Pursing her lips, Keladry took a chance to see if her suspicions were correct. "A cocktail of meds called …Tri"
"Tri-locis-sin?" He whispered, interrupting her, "I can't take that."
"Why not?" Her eyes searched his face expectantly, her hands deftly readying the medication.
"I've been taking Dilatyain. I'll have a negative reaction with the cocktail."
He doesn't realize it has been three weeks. Keladry sighed and busied herself with his arm. "Mr. Romani, not very many civilians know that mixing Dilatyain with Locisidan can be fatal. So I am going to assume that you have a medical degree of some sort and consequently, you will understand what I am about to say to you. On the other hand, if you have questions, feel free to ask." Gently, she pushed the plunger, providing nearly instant relief. The combination of meds relaxed Tristan's tense body, keeping him numb yet alert.
"Nearly three weeks ago, you crossed a busy intersection in front of this building and was hit by a speeder decelerating, but still going just below optimum velocity. I am sure you know the catalog of injuries you had before the accident. Compounded with the damage that the speeder accomplished, you should have died. When the mapping of your cerebellum was completed there was a significant amount of swelling along with scarring from a Level 4 cortex concussion. We were able to identify your pain killers from a basic tox screen."
Tristan wheezed, his breath suddenly knocked out of him. "I wasn't supposed to wake up." But you did, and it is because it is your duty to find Iker and make him pay. He could feel the anger swell up again
She looked at him, her sometimes pale green-brown eyes shifting to their darker hazel color, closely examining his face. "No, you were not. Therefore, I advise you take it easy for a little while, and whatever you have to do..." Whoever you need to follow, "...can wait. I am sure I do not need to say the dreaded 'your health comes first' speech." She pulled out a datapad, and turned it on. "I have taken the liberty of placing you in line for a bacta immersion. While you were in a coma we used patches, which –"
He interrupted her again, "--are slower. Fine. As long as I can leave after that." His fury, and anger may have been under control now, but it was still there, hovering beneath the surface.
Keladry gave him measured examination, hiding her exasperation. What is wrong with this guy! "Yes, please; sign here." He signed and then stared at her blankly, dismissing her as if he were a King.
Trying to be patient, to understand what this man must be feeling, she restrained herself from commenting. Instead, she turned to get a nurse to wheel him to the tanks. Before reaching the door she found herself paused by a strong grip on her arm. She looked up into Nestor's placid features.
He kept his voice low, but she could hear his sincerity; and a certain amount of helplessness-whether regarding his cousin's actions or his behavior she wasn't sure, but it was still there. "Doctor. Thank You."
She nodded, leaving the two silent men to stare at each other.
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Valdet
"What you must understand, Master Jade-Skywalker, is that Iker Rafagr came to us. He knew of our opposition votes to the banning of unilateral extermination policies in both former planetary ruling bodies and he used that knowledge to build up a power base to use against the monarchs and their loyalists. Sian and I were chosen by him, manipulated by him because our constant outspoken rhetoric against the rule of both the Morodin and Romani. " De-facto leader of Danshitie, Koi Esperenza sat behind her desk in her temporary office in Valdet City, valiantly trying to justify the rebel actions while keeping a guarded eye on the Jedi Master before her. "How can we be to blame for following orders that we hoped was from a revolutionary, someone who could bring lasting stability to the region?"
Sitting in the wide office room, with a view of the destroyed palace, Mara frowned at the tall, lithe woman. "I am not sure I am the one to answer the question, but let me ask you this:
Are your people happier now than in the six months of Tristan and Elbereth's rule? Or are they unsettled, afraid of repercussions if they spoke out against this new regime? A democratic government taken by force often leads to leadership through fear, where those who oppose are quietly silenced."
A wry smirk formed on the Danshitie native's face. "Through fear? Hardly. Our tactics were harsh to outsiders, but one has to recognize the uniqueness of the situation. We knew our limits, and while your very own Empire lauded strength through fear, we both know the old adage, about holding on too tightly to things you really want."
Mara nodded wondering whether to respond to the slight jab at her past, "They'll slip through your fingers. Chief of State Organa Solo said that to Grand Moff Tarkin when she was being held on the first Death Star. At the time, the Emperor and the higher level Imperials laughed at her perceived bluster, but after Yavin, many realized that a military presence and the toppling of legitimate governments for human Imperial authority was not going to keep the galaxy stable. Under the Emperor, a real dictator, might I add, things were not likely to change.
"Citizen Representative Esperenza, did you try talking to the Monarchs? At what point did your fight become against Valdet rather than a call for reform? From my point of view, Iker Rafagr's attempts to unify the opposition for sovereignty and independent governments resulted in driving a greater wedge between your planets. If you really want what is best for your people, unlimited extermination is not the answer, and neither is this show of dialogue. There needs to be real communication, not just between you and De-facto leader of Valdet Arran, but also between the people—who might I point out—may have a very different point of view than you are expecting."
Koi stood up slowly, understanding the words, but either ignored or refused to accept what the Jedi alluded to. "The problem now is, with the military curfew, and rule in place at the moment, we really do not have any procedure on where to go from here. The tentative peace that Sian and I drew up was due to the news that Iker Rafgr was alive, a piece of information that only Sian and I know. We both only have enough influence on our groups to hold that in place, not to dictate what happens next. Despite our earlier arrogance, we both realize that our hatred was enough to allow an outsider to control us, and while we both hold that separate governance is what we prefer, we cannot pretend that it will only occur if we work together. "
Mara followed her cue and stood, "Despite being asked here by His Highness Romani, I do want to help. But remember, I will not choose sides or decide for you what is best for your planets. If need be I can mediate disputes, but I cannot fight your battles. If requested, I shall consider departing, but where I go from here is only up to me." She paused, "In response to your earlier question about responsibility. We are all responsible for our actions. As sentient beings, we make mistakes and often choose unwisely. I have made mistakes when I served the Empire that have yet to be atoned for—because even with orders, or following a charismatic leader, there is a level of personal accountability.
Whatever you choose, whatever you decide, it is your decision, your action that have brought you to this point. Do not hide behind orders, or a martyr's shroud. He may not be dead, but many others who trusted in you are."
Koi Esperenza watched her leave the room. The moment the door closed, she stabbed at her comm, "Get me Sian, tell him we need people to watch the Jedi."
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The acrid smoke from the aerial bombardment still hung around the edges of Valdet's atmosphere; making her eyes water every time she exited one of the buildings. After only a week and a half Mara had come to the conclusion that while the two faction leaders, Citizen Representative Arran and Esperenza, had come to an understanding the rest of the opposition needed some convincing. Already there were fractures within the groups, between those who lacked the discipline to stand their ground, and those whose fanatical hatred of the other planet, making middle ground virtually invisible.
She still didn't understand what role she was to play in the larger picture.
Her last trip to Valdet with Corran and Mirax, had been nearly a year ago, and after barely three standard hours, enough for them to ascertain that Tristan's sister, Anian, was not on planet, the three of them had left feeling the suffocation of being recognizable figures. This was a region where, isolated from the galactic realm, the only news came from off-world rookie newscasters whose sole purpose was to read news that was nearly three weeks old.
Valdet was no longer suffocating. Rather the populace's attention was on more important things, struggling to work with a teetering infrastructure that lacked the strength to withstand any more pressure.
For now, Mara was impartial, standing for a long-lasting peace instead of a ceasefire. She had been filled in on the events of the past six months, slowly piecing together the last moments of Tristan and Elbereth Romani before the palace was destroyed. While she felt the solemnity of the Citizen Representatives when they spoke of Elbereth's illness, Mara could not sense sincerity. She listened with curiosity as they talked of Iker Rafagr, the martyr whose death served as a flashpoint for more violence in the long running civil war between Valdet and Danshitie. The passionate defense and attachment to this man troubled her, because a single person's dedicated vision, presented the way his was had to be flawed.
Mara knew from experience that there was no one perfect Utopia, rather that a galaxy and a people could find peace in many different ways, and for two groups to come together after decades of wanting mutual destruction of the other seemed suspicious.
After leaving Koi Esperenza's office, the former Emperor's Hand chose to walk around Valdet City and get to know her surroundings, to regain her footing and obtain a new perspective through non-political eyes. Her restlessness from the last few days had continued, and she knew it was because of her last conversation with Luke.
The Force has willed it, and I shall try to follow; but remember you aren't alone. When it wants its will heard, the Force shall guide you.
These are your trials.
Mara remembered being mildly surprised as the ship made the jump to lightspeed.
These are your trials. It had not come from Luke, but rather a quiet addendum by the Force. Her trials. Mara was already a Jedi Knight something she had earned on Nirauan, but had not, considered herself a true master. She recalled, not soon after finding out about Luke's promotion to the rank of Jedi Master, questioning its validity; since her own title manifested itself not long after the visit to the remains of the Outbound Flight Project, she had felt almost dishonest whenever she was addressed. Consequently, the idea of having trials for mastery as well as knighthood made some sort of vague sense; so while she did not mind the message, it was the timing that unsettled her.
Was the message's arrival, right after Luke's reassurance that the Force would guide her, a portent?
When the crucial moment arrived would she have support, or would the Force leave her to her own devices?
She suppressed a grimace. No pressure… Taking in her surroundings she found herself across the street from the rubble of the Royal Palace, where large signs in Basic warned passersby of unsafe conditions. Originally constructed of rusted sandstone, all that remained of the palatial complex was a deep pit consisting of twisted synthetic metal girders, large chunks of marble and beams of wood, that splintered when the columns in the main archway slammed against the vaulted ceiling. She could feel the resonance of surprise and fear, remembering that somewhere beneath this rubble laid the bodies of two hundred guards, servants and a combination of major and minor officials whose offices and in some cases living quarters had been located here.
Watching with a sense of detached sorrow, Mara understood that those who had lost someone here would feel a psychic scar that once the physical remains had been removed, would remain in their memory for the rest of their lives. Standing where she was, she could see a houseplant, scraps of fabric, and a single chair, whose gilt, despite the dirt, reflected beams of sunlight. It was perhaps all that remained of Tristan and Elbereth's home. Moving closer she stretched out her senses, trying to find vestiges of the palace's former occupants. Initially, she could not distinguish their individual presences from the others, but as she widened her search, there was a feeling of desperation that she recognized from her visions. Desperation linked to a presence that she recognized, in part, due to its similarity to his sister-Anian Romani.
Taking a few steps to the right she followed Tristan's despair and moved further into the business district of the city. In an almost surreal trip, it led her into a dank and empty warehouse where circular light panels dropped from the ceiling, lighting up the windowless building with circles of illumination.
And as she stepped inside, she realized she was being followed.
Ducking behind a pillar, Mara waited, sensing the presence grow closer and closer. Without a sound, she slipped her forearm blaster into her hand and set it to stun. Listening intently, waiting for the individual to make their move, she gazed at the floor, taking in the larger footprints that her shoes were filling. Covered with a thin layer of new dust, they were a few weeks old and appeared to belong to someone male and tall. Glancing in the direction the shoes were pointing, she had a sudden suspicion.
The footprints were directed towards one of the circles of light, one that bounced against a few of the taller piles, creating shadows ideal for a hiding place. At the base of one of the larger crates, there was a smudge, which was once again covered with a thinner and darker layer of dust that indicated someone had lain there. There was another, smaller pair of footprints next to it. Even though most of the dust had been scuffed by wild rodents, Mara knew that this was where Elbereth had died. It was in the air.
The sadness and muted sorrow of two people was striking. Who was that second person? Unfortunately, before she could sense what direction they had gone, her shadow released a flash of unexpected terror and Mara's danger sense tingled. Instinctively, she leapt from her hiding place and sprinted to the warehouse door, identifying three other presences in the alleyway before wrenching open the heavy panel.
Her shadow, a woman no older than twenty-five, faced three men, all of which were dressed in tatters, in stark contrast to their victim whose tailored clothes under her cloak indicated a level of affluence. As Mara watched, the three men spread out into a classic surround, intimidate and steal tactic, two with their backs towards the warehouse, the third at an angle, keeping a wary eye on the surroundings.
"Come on Miss, give us your money." His voice was high and squeaky, but with enough snarl to intimidate someone smaller than him.
Firmly, with no outward indication of the fear that was emanating through the Force, the woman stared the man down. "No."
Peering through the din at the woman's face, there was an imperceptible moment where her focus flickered towards Mara before smoothly returning to her captor. Taking the non-verbal cue Mara wrapping her own cloak around her, and faded into the shadows. She slowly moved along the wall towards the group.
The man to the woman's right taunted her, "No? Ah well we don't like that answer. Either you give us your money, or we'll give you this." He raised his blaster, thumping it against his thigh.
The woman blinked, and remained silent, with an almost bored expression on her face.
The third guy shifted, and to keep his attention from the direction Mara was skulking the girl turned to him and said snidely, "What's your threat?" He faced her.
"No threat, I just like looking at pretty things." He was soft, low voiced. "Especially pretty things that glitter." He sent a knowing glance at the ring on her finger.
His high pitch turning whiny, the first thief grunted, "Forget this, we don't have time to waste. Just take her money, get rid of her and let's go." He moved quickly forward to grab the woman's left arm, but Mara was faster. Setting her blaster sights, she snapped off a shot not watching as the he crumpled to the ground. Quickly dispatching blaster man, she turned to deal with the third and was impressed to find him out cold at his captor's feet.
Mara nodded and stepped cautiously out of the shadows where she had been hiding. Looking the girl over she casually asked, making sure to keep her blaster low, but at a ready position. "Everything alright?"
The woman nodded. "Yes."
"Do you want to explain why you were following me?"
The surprise from the girl was muted, considering she obviously knew that Mara was a Jedi. Warily she moved closer, and put out her hand. "Isabelita Faience. I'm sorry about all this," She waved her hand at the alleyway, "but I was not sure how to approach you." Her speech betrayed her as a native Danshitie, while it was clear she was dressing like the Valdet middle class to avoid attention.
Mara accepted her hand, sensing no deception, "Mara Jade--"
Isabelita finished "Skywalker. I know." She hesitated, and glanced back at the three prone forms. "Thank you for your help."
"I'm not sure if you needed it."
"Oh I did, despite how it appeared, my combat skills have been…unpracticed for about a year. I also needed a distraction. There was no way I could have taken down all three without getting shot." She smiled, "Not all of us can have Jedi reflexes." Isabelita took in the older woman before her, noting the less-than patient expression on her beautiful face and sighed, "I have a proposition for you, one that will change the way you mediate this dispute." Looking straight at her with as much determination as she could muster, she went on. "There's something you need to know in order to understand what happened here, something that will make you fully understand why Citizen Representatives like Esperenza and Arran were so easily swayed by Iker Rafagr, why they were willing to put aside their differences and perpetuate these atrocities destroying a chance that this system had been waiting for, for a long time. "
Pausing, she took a deep breath, and Mara noted that it was almost as if her life depended on it. "I want you to come to Danshitie."
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En Route to Coruscant from Anobis
After retrieving his wife's speech from the storage locker in the crew's cabin, Han Solo squeezed past Anakin, who had just left the forward cargo hold, and ruffled his hair with affection. Han Solo knew his son, and was fairly sure that Anakin was headed towards the galley where Leia had stocked his favorite foods.
Striding past the main engineering console Han nodded to Kyp and Streen who were looking over the specs of their next assignment, trying to come up with what final questions they had to ask Luke before they headed out again.
For a brief moment he took in Jedi Knight Kyp Durron, a young man, almost like a third son, who had grown quite a bit since their last meeting. He was leaning over the holographic table, clad in the classic Jedi tunic, his green eyes focused and full of the wisdom cultivated through his experiences since his exit from the spice mines of Kessel. Han recognized in him the poise, and cocky arrogance of his own youth and smiled. Probably sensing the scrutiny through the Force, Kyp looked up, and a feeling of mutual experience passed through them before Han continued on to the relative isolation of the cockpit.
Settling in to his pilot's chair, Han closed his eyes. He loved his life, his family. With Chewbacca by his side, he had never feared much, and to some extent believed that there was a skein of invincibility over his family and friends that no enemy would permeate. But, as always, there were new worries, ones that he had never had to think about, and with his children growing up, these new thoughts surprised him. First of all, seeing the former bounty hunter Czetheros, and the following sabotage of the Blockade Runners Derby course, had caused him to rethink his decision to leave his blaster on the Millennium Falcon. A decision that had been precipitated by his effort to be less suspicious, less paranoid of long term peace.
He thought of the young woman, Anja Gallandro whom they had met on Ord Mantell, his mind going back to her accusations about his role in her fathers death, an event he had long since ceased to think about. In his youth it had never occurred to him that Gallandro might have had children, or even a family to take care of, and some part of him regretted the events from time passed.
Han's own children had open hearts, a characteristic that he suspected came from their mother's side that taught them to help everyone in need. So, in trying to help a wayward girl, Han, the young Jedi Knights and the Falcon had taken a detour making what had started out as a simple diplomatic trip to Ord Mantell into a longer mission of aid. The past few weeks working to stop the civil war on Anja's home planet of Anobis had fully revealed to him Jacen, Jaina and Anakin's intelligence and empathy for the plight of those whose desperation caused them to react in unexpected ways. For the first time in his life, Han Solo realized that his kids no longer needed him-- and that worried him.
What also plagued him today was his remembrance of the look in Jacen's face after they talked about Anja's father's death. It was a look that revealed a dispersion of naiveté. It was not as if he had kept his past hidden from his kids, but he recognized that to some extent they held him up to a higher pedestal than most, on a hero's standard. Having been born after the Rebellion, they could not fully understand how hero's came in all shapes and sizes, and were often shoved into the role by fate. Han had never had to worry about their future, about who they would become because as Jedi, they were automatically on that path, probably never realizing how their actions would shape their images. Images that had already been solidified after their work with the Shadow Academy and the Diversity Alliance.
Staring at the console in front of him Han caught his reflection in the cockpit window. He frowned at the gray, and smiled at the scars. Nothing had changed, everything had changed, and he was better for it. Now as Leia put in motion changes that would set the Solo's on the next phase of their lives, he was fully prepared to embrace whatever came their way.
xxxxx
Coruscant
As secret meetings went, this one was fairly open ended. The room was in a public venue, where anyone could walk in and every shade on every window was flung open allowing equal access to any adventurous sludge news reporter looking for wayward images of governmental officials.
But that had been their intention all along. According to the official schedule, the group was gathering for an office strategy session regarding an up and coming appropriations fight in the Senate. So naturally there was nothing to hide, and for appearances sake they wanted it to remain so. For Borsk Fey'lya and his entourage, image was everything.
Of course they weren't really meeting about the appropriations bill, after all, the plans for that had been set in stone months ago. The real topic of conversation this afternoon, was something that was a carefully guarded secret, and though there had been whispers at low levels, they had been quickly hushed and disproved. In order to prevent another rash of rumors, Borsk had personally invited a few close officials and senator friends for special input.
He surveyed the occupants on the uniquely oval table and nodded. Here were his most loyal supporters, those who would decide for him whether the course he was plotting was plausible and realistic, because though he was ambitious he had been in politics long enough to know that there was no use sticking his neck out if it was not necessary.
One of his aides, a short, stocky human leaned over, "Sir, we're just waiting on--" He stopped as the last senator slipped into the room. "Everyone is here sir."
"Thank you, if you could keep watch as we discussed. " Borsk waited until the human had stepped outside the room before beginning.
"Gentle beings. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me. I am aware that you are all beings of honor, and intelligence and I have come to you with a serious problem, one that I believe shall determine the course of the galaxy for many years to come." He glanced around the table making eye contact with each individual at the table including the Senators from Rodia, and Kuat, a freshman senator from Bothuwaii, as well as two highly placed ministers of communications and finance. He could see the curiosity in their eyes, the beginnings of understanding. As he spoke, he opened his claws, one by one.
"We are all in danger, and that danger comes in the form of one individual who could, if she so chose, threaten the fundamental freedoms that the New Republic has been built upon. True, this individual has worked her life to secure many of these such freedoms, but in the current political climate--where our focus should be on building up the economy, intra and interplanetary trade, and other issues in our peacetime infrastructure, we are in much danger of falling prey to her paranoia and insecurities." He withdrew his claws, opening his paws, palm up on the table in a gesture of openness.
"It is time to get rid of the old guard, and open up our doors to innovation and new blood. The New Republic has stepped out of the era of war, death and bloodshed, and it needs a leader who can lead this galaxy out of the past, and into a stronger future." He flipped over both his paws, slammed them onto the counter, pulling himself up while keeping his audience entranced. Now, he began walking around the table, taking position behind each chair, keeping them at unease. "I believe you know what I am referring to, if you think as I do, please speak up--and if you disagree, let me know why this is not the path that we should follow.
Before I leave this room today a decision must be made, the right decision. For as you all know this danger will not go away unless slapped down. So we must be strong, we must fight, and we must destroy Leia Organa Solo, or else."
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Thyferra
Nestor took in the night, gazing at the expansive cityscape, while content to remain alone in his thoughts. He ached for the deep rose covered peaks of the Al'orian's, struggling to adjust to this thriving suffocating metropolis, where the climate made it difficult for him to capture a breath due to the humidity.
Tristan was in bacta therapy and while he had yet to resort to whining, Nestor could see and hear his silent accusations--all being hurled into the vacant expanse of tension between the former ruler and bodyguard. It was understood, in the short hours since surfacing from his coma, and despite his medical training, that Tristan believed Nestor to be at fault for the events of the past few weeks. He had said, in so many words, that Nestor should have abandoned his charge, should have abandoned Tristan, to death just to ensure that Iker did not get away.
To do so would be a betrayal of a lifetime. How could Nestor ever just walk away?
Now the trail was cold, and there was no hope of identifying where or how their enemy had made it off planet, or even if he was off planet. In a galaxy of trillions changing your identity was as easy as deciding what to eat for the mid-day meal.
So, it seemed, that the new Tristan was here to stay, and the man Nestor had been proud to protect, a man he believed was his friend, was lost.
"Elbereth, what shall I do?" He whispered--looking for answers in the promises she had left behind.
A soft voice, distinct, responded, questioning. "About what?"
Nestor turned to see the pretty doctor examining him with clear concern. "Mr. Alluvia, I'm about to go home for the evening, is there anything I can get you?" As she approached the railing, Nestor notice black card, paper thin, peeking out of the shallow pockets of her lab coat. It seemed so unnatural against her pale-soothing hospital coat.
He turned with her to face the lights, and softly answered. "No, m'lady, Thank You m'lady."
Startled she faced him and placing her small hands on the side of his broad shoulder, causing him to turn from growing unease. "Listen. Today was hard, but not atypical. Not many coma victims with head injuries like your cousins survive to be fully functional, therefore it is natural that there be some hostility and disorientation, especially in regards to the time discontinuity. For them it is as if they just went to sleep and woke up the next day only to find out that weeks, or even decades of their life has passed them by. "
Nestor could not tell her that Tristan's behavior had started before the accident. The younger man was only seven years his junior, but having spent his youth with the weight of the galaxy on his shoulder, his face lacked the youthful appearance of someone who had just celebrated his 30th birthday.
"Dr. Stanton!" They both turned towards the lounge doors to see a young tech holding out a black card, similar to the one that Nestor had seen earlier.
"Yes?" She asked, her voice losing any softness it had a moment before. Nestor glanced at her again, this time noting the hard lines along her eyes and mouth.
"This was just delivered to your desk. "
The doctor shifted her weight nervously, "Did you see who delivered it?" Her tone was inquisitive, worried.
"No, I went in to pick up the charts, and a delivery guy handed it to me." He held the card out to her again.
Taking it, Keladry frowned, carefully placing it unopened in her pocket with the other one.
"Thank you, "almost as an afterthought she added. "If you see Dr. Mendel, tell him I'll be in early to help with the 7:30."
"Yes, Doctor." He turned and walked down the corridor.
She turned back toward Nestor, suddenly agitated and needing to leave the hospital as quickly as possible. "If you have any questions, I will be in early. "
He nodded slowly, not wanting to pry, and extended his hand in farewell. "Thank you doctor for your kind words. I'm confidant that my cousin is in good care."
For a moment she forgot her personal worries and squeezed his hand. "Remember, it gets better from here, just give it some time. Everything will be all right."
xxxxxxxxxx
From where he stood down the corridor, he watched as the young tech delivered his card to her. He smiled to himself as she exited the lounge a moment later. He knew she would wait until she was in control of her surroundings before she opened his new letter.
Humming softly under his breath, he pretended to be looking at a holomap of the hospital as she walked by, and for a moment, just a moment he could smell her scent, that combination of water lilies and spice all mixed together in a beautiful package.
It was always good to make her happy with a message at the end of the long day. It would probably help her sleep better knowing that he was there to watch over her.
He would always be there to watch over her.
End Post 2
Credit: All of this post is mine, but there are specific references to things from the YJK books. (The Blockade Runner's Derby reference, the events on Anobis)
