Jacen watched his sister pace the length of their cabin aboard the New Republic Star Destroyer Freedom patiently, but he felt as agitated as she did, though he did not show it so openly. They had both heard the news from Coruscant, the accusations the Empress was facing. And both could not help but link these charges with Luzaya Dan's unexpected appearance and the true identity of her 'bodyguard'. Mahel Sivaraya, as the newsgrids had been eager to repeat, was actually the late Yuuzhan Vong warmaster's son. Marayl Carr had been the master-mind behind the invasion of the Unknown Territories some twenty years past, and everyone who had struggled through these times had heard his name and had come to fear him and his minions. To have his son now named guardian of the Sith Empire's only heir by none other than Empress herself had to rouse suspicion. Had Yana known? Jacen was certain of it.

She had been an information broker and her husband had been an Imperial Special Agent. A detail such as this one would not have escaped their notice, not when their daughter's safety was at stake. And Naas Deron … Deron had to have been aware of Mahel's true identity too. He had been the one who had named the Yuuzhan Vong when he had decided to follow the Cor'dan's teachings and forsake the heritage of his own people. And whatever Yana Dar had sought to achieve by her choice of bodyguard for her daughter had now trapped her solidly. It was clear to Jacen that it would be very hard for the New Republic to trust Yana after this. But how were the Chiss reacting? They had been hit the worst back in that war against the Yuuzhan Vong. So far there had been no official statement from Csilla, the Chiss Empire's capital world, but Jacen had thought that at least the Council of Naboo would have an unofficial reaction from the Emperor Ja'han'mandana.

This was truly complicated.

"He is not involved in this," Jaina announced suddenly, rounding on her brother, "he is not!"

"Who? Jacen asked, bewildered.


"Mahel! Who else?" she demanded in exasperation, then started pacing again. "It makes no sense, otherwise. Mahel never supported the conservative wing of Yuuzhan Vong officials. And Yana Dar would not have chosen him had she not been certain of his loyalty. What if she wanted to show her citizens that she offers reconciliation to the Yuuzhan Vong and a future for all peoples to exist within the Empire? To have Mahel guard her daughter is the utmost sign of trust there can be!"

"It could also have been bait to goad out the conspirators who tried to kill her husband," Jacen mused thoughtfully.

Jaina replied instantly, "Even then she had to be sure Mahel was on her side and would protect Luzaya."

"True," her brother conceded. "And what should we do now?"

"Good question," Jaina huffed. "I suppose we'll have to talk to Vice-admiral Shikay. We're officially here to assist him on behalf of the Council of Naboo."


"But there is no terrorist threat. So what are we really doing here?" Jacen asked then, and rose from his seat to join her on the deck. Facing each other, the twins kept silent for a while, each lost in thought.

"Out of harm's way?" Jaina offered at last, but Jacen shook his head

"I don't think so. I believe there is danger out here. We only have to find out what it is. Al'than'erudo thinks this emergency call might have been designed to distract the attention of both the Council and the New Republic military. So someone on this planet is interested in diverting us. Wanna guess?"

Jaina's forehead creased in puzzlement. "Shikay?"

"No, dummy. It has to be the NRI. Kattaran. He doesn't like the Vong and he doesn't trust the Empire, the Force knows why. Probably thinks Yana Dar and Franzis Sarreti have betrayed the Empire by welcoming the Vong. He was an Imperial agent at the time of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, remember?"

"I do," she nodded. "So what do we do? Follow him around?"

Jacen shrugged. "It would be worth a try."

There was a knock at the door and the twins called in unison, "Come!"

"Speak of the Dark One," Jaina mumbled under her breath when Alowyn Kattaran himself entered the cabin, giving the siblings a polite nod.

"What can we do for you?" Jacen asked, a little too loudly, hoping that the agent had not heard Jaina's comment.

"Forgive me for this unannounced visit," Kattaran replied calmly, "but news has reached us from Coruscant. My assignment has been changed."

"Really?" Jaina inquired, cocking her head to the side curiously, "How so?"

"There's an arrest warrant out for Mahel Sivaraya," the agent explained. "The government's decided that the Vong's kidnapped the princess and that it is our duty to recover her

unharmed."

"And you have been assigned to bring her back?" Jacen asked, aghast.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Alowyn Kattaran explained with a grin. "And I recall that the two of you wanted to come along, so I offer you a chance to do something beside twiddling your thumbs."

"That offer comes at a very awkward moment, sir," Jacen replied coldly. "We have been sent here on behalf of the Council of Naboo to assist Vice-admiral Shikay uncover the source of a supposed terrorist threat. We will have to check back with our superior before we can commit to any new assignment."

"Has Coruscant gained the Empress' consent for this arrest warrant?" Jaina chimed in. "As long as Mahel is not listed as a criminal subject in Imperial databases you cannot prosecute him in New Republic territory."

"This is not official," Kattaran said then, between gritted teeth, and Jacen could sense that he was really growing angry now. "The NRI has been made aware of the danger the princess' disappearance poses to us. What if the Empress takes this as excuse to attack the New Republic in retribution? We have to find the princess, we really have no choice in the matter."

"Why not appeal to Mahel to bring her back? If he's brought her to safety to keep her from harm he might listen to you and agree to come out," Jacen suggested then.

Kattaran shook his head. "Too risky. We have to assume that he is guilty of kidnapping."

"Why?" Jaina challenged him.

But it was her brother who answered with a wry smile, "Because it is more convenient that way." He straightened to his full height facing the NRI agent, "Sir, we will think about your proposal. Allow us to report back to Naboo, though, and we promise this information will remain confidential."

Kattaran gave him a dark look that spared not even Jaina, "Let me know when you've made up your minds," he growled, the turned to leave. "But be quick about it. I cannot afford to lose more time." And with these words he was gone.

Immediately, Jaina scooted over to her brother, her face shining with fierce determination. "I know what you are thinking," she told him, her voice low. "You think Kattaran wants to take us along to appear to have the Council's official backing and sanctioning. So whatever happens, for example if Luzaya is harmed, or worse, is killed, the blame will fall on the Council. I say we tell Al'than'erudo the entire story."

"We can't," Jacen cautioned her. "Chances that Kattaran will be listening in on us are too great. And besides, if he really intends to track down Mahel and Luzaya and kill them, we should  be there to prevent it. He's going to go anyway."

At that moment both their commlinks were activated, and both hurried to answer the call. At once they realized they'd both been called by the same person. "Mother," Jacen said, a relieved smile on his lips. "Are you back on Coruscant?" He listened patiently as his mother continued, but Jaina could not hold still.

"We can't come to you now!" she exclaimed, her face flushed red. "No, we've not made any progress with the investigations," she conceded, at Leia's poignant query. "No! This assignment can only be revoked by the Council, so you can't just order us home! Ah, you talk to her, Jacen," she added then, deactivating her commlink and turning away.

Rolling his eyes at his sister, Jacen let his mother's arguments wash over him, but he had already decided that he agreed with Jaina. At last he said," Mother, please, let us check back with Al'than'erudo. Let him decide. He knows what's best. Yes. Yes. I'll try. Bye." With a grin, he disconnected the call and turned toward his sister. "She says I'm to persuade you to see reason."

"Meaning?"

"We're going with Kattaran. Let me talk to the Council."

Jaina was unconvinced. "And what if Al'than'erudo says no?"

Shrugging, Jacen walked over to the viewport, then announced, "We'll simply have to make certain he cannot say no. We'll leave a message once we're already under way. How about that?"

"Sneaky," Jaina grinned. "Let's do it."

"Ah, Your Highness, I am terribly sorry, but she is not available," the official told her patiently, but Padmé refused to be turned down again now that she had managed to at least reach the Citadel's comm center.

"What about Franzis Sarreti, then?" she asked.

"He is unavailable, Your Highness. But you can leave a message, or ask to be called back. That is all I can do for you, I fear," the man said again, infuriating her even more.

"This is impossible!" she snapped, "And I demand that you at least make an effort to locate them! They cannot have vanished just like that. If they are not off-world, and I was assured they are not, then you must be able to move your sorry ass from your chair and go look for them! This is important!"

"Madam, please understand that you are trying to speak to the two busiest people this administration has to offer. Everything they do is important. For the last time, leave a message or wait to be called back."

Without another word, Padmé disconnected the call, fuming. "The gall of that man!" she exclaimed. "Not important!"

"Is there a problem?" Anakin asked, coming around the corner. "Did you reach Yana?"

"No!" she sighed, throwing up her hands. "They would not even make the effort to let her know I was calling. Can you imagine that?"

His face was terribly serious. "I can. What about Deron? Can we speak to him?"

Padmé gave her husband a puzzled look. "Why would you want to talk to him? You don't think – " she gasped, putting a hand over her heart. "Oh no!" Whirling toward the comm console she tried to reach Byss again, this time activating Naas Deron's personal comm code. It took him a while, but he answered in the end.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding somewhat angry.

"Forgive me, Cor'dan," Padmé began formally, "I have been trying to contact the Empress, but was turned down. I had hoped that you could tell me what is going on –"

"She is not available?" Deron asked, interrupting her carelessly. "Damn! I told him to – " With a click the commlink was shut down.


"How rude," Padmé muttered, staring at her own comm. Again her dark eyes sought her husband's face. "What in Sith's hells is going on?"

"How could I trust him? How could I?"

Yana's hands were balled into tight fists as she glared at her husband, who had been the unfortunate messenger to bring her the news of Luzaya's disappearance. Franzis appeared unruffled and cool, but she knew that he must be as worried as she was. Seemingly unmoved, he walked around her to elegantly take a seat on one of the chairs that stood spread throughout her spacious office. Long legs crossed, he sat there gazing at her and did not say a word. She took a deep breath and strode over to loom over him, fists propped on her hips. Nostrils flaring, she dared Franzis to deny her her rage, as he did so often, fearing that her temper would get the better of her some day.  And yet, when he answered at last, she felt her heart sting with his cold demeanour and his rebuke.

"Yana, I am certain that Mahel has brought her to safety. He is loyal and sincere in his devotion to Luzaya," Franzis told her, and a small smile flashed across his lips, "Much the same way I was, before you and I got to know each other better."

His gentle teasing went right over her head. "You might find this amusing," Yana said sternly, "but this is our daughter's life we are talking about. Her future, most of all. How is she going to stand up to those boot-lickers and back-stabbing idiots that make up the Imperial Court?"

"I told you to get rid of them years ago," her husband reminded her, grey eyes calculating.

But Yana did not rise to that challenge. She straightened her shoulders and gave a disapproving huff. "You would have had them assassinated, had I not held you back," she countered as coolly. "And now you tell me that I have to be the diplomat, accommodate their wishes and be polite. You are not very fair in that regard."

Franzis' features did not waver when he said, "I told you before that you should never wish me to be in your place. We balance each other perfectly."

"Really?" she asked, brows arched challengingly. "But you still follow my lead. And what if I were to declare civil rights to be suspended for the duration of the investigation of Luzaya's disappearance?"

"If you do that, my dear, you'll break your own neck," he told her, charming as ever.

She whirled away, unable to face him as she answered, "Nevertheless, I am in a right mood to do just that." It was true. Her heart was a tight knot of mind-numbing fear and dark fury. She was frustrated at the lack of success concerning the Yun-Harla sect's investigation into the assassination attempts aimed at her husband. The violent death of Elu Cha, the sect's former head, had only served to deepen her suspicion concerning the sect's surviving members. Alyn Cha, the High Priest's daughter, had been questioned closely by her own fellow members as well as Franzis himself, and nothing had come from those interviews.

And now Luzaya had vanished.

When she had sent her daughter to Naboo she had been following Naas Deron's directive blindly, and had thought it reasonable to have her only child out of harm's way, with friends she thought she could rely on. She had felt relieved to know Luzaya safe, and now everyone had betrayed her. Even Franzis expected her to function despite the paralysis the uncertainty and worry concerning her daughter had put on her. Was she not human? Was she not a living being, a mother who had lost her child and did not know what fate held in store for that child? She wanted to throttle her husband for his uncaring heart, and at the same time there was this aching hope that he was feeling the same she was, as worried, as frantic and mad with fear. But Franzis had always been so cold in political matters. And to him this current crisis presented more of a political problem than a familial disaster.

Yana was struggling with her emotions bravely and sought to come to terms with her situation. But she was only a mother. And she was willing to do anything in her power to protect her child, no matter what her cold-hearted husband might say. Did she not have enough resources at her disposal to start a search for the princess and her bodyguard? Was she not in command of an entire army of investigators? But no, they had betrayed her. The Yun-Harla sect had done nothing, could show no results for all the weeks that had passed since her beloved husband had almost died at the hands of cowards.

"Mahel Sivaraya has betrayed my trust," she said suddenly, her voice hard. "I wish to make a public announcement and call him back personally. And I want his accomplices caught and imprisoned."

"What accomplices?" Franzis asked, and she could hear him rise behind her. "Yana, I tell you again that there are no accomplices. He is an honest boy, and Luzaya is safe with him. You must see the greater context in this matter. They are trying to take you to the brink of endurance, and they will test your limits until you break. You cannot break now, Yana. You have to stay calm. Trust Deron, and trust me. We can handle this."

"Handle this!" she screamed, rounding on him, her blue eyes flashing. "What have you accomplished so far? What? And Deron! That scheming bastard has no right to interfere with my government!" She saw immediately that she had gone too far. He recoiled from her, his forehead creased into a disgusted frown as he stepped back, out of her reach. "I am sorry," she hastened to assure him, "I should not have yelled at you – or blamed you for the sects' failings," she added hurriedly, when he stepped around her, keeping his silence.


"Have a little faith, Yana," he said at last, his voice choked, almost a whisper. "Just a little faith."

When he turned to leave, Yana was devastated. And when the door had closed behind him, she allowed herself a moment of weakness and sank down in one of the chairs, her face buried in her hands, crying. Franzis was the only, the only person she trusted unconditionally. He was right. They complemented each other perfectly. While he strove to curb the excesses of her temper, she moderated his cold, all too sensible approach to politics. Not even her daughter enjoyed the same trust her husband did. And she could feel the distance that had come between them, separating them, ever since she had sent their daughter abroad. Perhaps she was overreacting, and perhaps Franzis found himself unable to deal with his wife any longer, but did they not have to stick together, now of all times? How could he leave her now? Shaking her head, she gave a mirthless laugh at her own indecisiveness. She trusted Franzis, and yet she accused him of not doing everything in his power to reassure her? And still, how dare he stand back when she so obviously needed his support? When had been the last time they had spoken, heart to heart, as they had done almost every night during all the years of their marriage? He had withdrawn almost completely from her quarters, spending more and more time with the Advisory Council. She could understand that, even. He was busy steering the Empire through this crisis, while she was falling apart with worry. But why could he not do both? Solve this mess and reassure his wife? 

Stunned, she replayed that last thought in her mind and with cutting clarity realized what exactly she had been thinking. She was expecting Franzis to do everything, to be her shield, the same way he had always been, always firm, always strong. But he needed her help at least as much as she did. Instead of supporting him she was throwing a temper tantrum. Instead of backing his investigations, she only demanded results. And instead of showing a strong presence in the public eye, she was leaving everything to her husband, who was an administrator more than a politician, and could not spare any time for press conferences or the like.

Wiping the tears away, she stood again, determined to find her husband and apologize to him. They needed to stand together.

It was then that Myryane Eastwinder, the royal household's major domo, knocked at the door and announced a visitor: the New Republic ambassador Niki Beryd.

Angry though she was, Yana wiped her tears away and told Myryane to ask the ambassador to wait a moment. The majordomo gave an understanding nod, while she kept her gaze politely averted from the Empress' dishevelled appearance. Yana breathed a 'thank you', then rushed out of the office and back into her dressing room. Now that she had vowed to take on the public duties she should have shouldered weeks ago, she put much effort into her outfit and appearance. Nothing dark, a light blue suit instead, her wild mane of curls tamed in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and no cosmetic enhancements at all. When she was finished, she threw a critical glance at her image and sighed. She had grown older, hadn't she? Rising from her seat in front of the mirror she shooed her handmaidens away and prepared to receive the New Republic ambassador. She opened the door to her office and walked in casually, to seat herself behind her desk. Only then did she signal Myryane to let her guest enter.

Ambassador Beryd, a dark-haired human woman with sharp eyes, bustled past the majordomo, a smile on her face. Rising from her seat, Yana graciously extended her hand toward the other woman, but was disappointed to find that Beryd declined her first peaceful offer and instead favoured her with merely a nod. Her mood doused instantly, the Empress resumed her seat and said, "Please take a seat, Ambassador. What can I do for you?"

Niki Beryd took her time settling into her chair, but when she had finally found a position that was satisfactory to her, her sharp gaze focused on Yana in an uncomfortably direct manner, "There are many things you could help me with," she said. "A few matters that my government is unsure about and that need to be shed light on."

"Please, Ambassador," Yana replied, a cool smile on her lips, "do not try to cushion the blow or sweet-talk your accusations. What is it you really want to say?" She was immensely pleased to see the ambassador blush.

"Well," Niki Beryd began once more, "it is no secret that Your Highness had officials of her own government seized and questioned without a trial. The New Republic cannot accept such mistreatment of innocents, and it cannot condone your seeming sanctioning of genocide."

"Sanctioning of genocide!" Yana Dar exclaimed. "If you are referring to those ridiculous accusations concerning Roj Kell – "

"That is indeed what I am referring to, Your Highness," Beryd interrupted her calmly.

Deflating a bit, Yana leaned back in her chair and recovered her composure. These would be difficult negotiations, certainly. "Ambassador, do you truly believe that I would have sanctioned the sacrifice of millions of innocent people? I did not even know of this massacre until Lord Skywalker told me about it. He can confirm my reaction to that news, by the way. I was not at all pleased."

"Yet it is common knowledge that Lord Kell was your advisor and mentor for a time. You never chose to stop him, not even when he murdered your brother, Irek Ismaren."

Yana's face turned very pale at the mention of that unfortunate boy. His death had changed her, as well as the death of Abla Othana, the man she had loved for three wonderful years, and who had been killed by none other than Irek himself. A very dark day that had been, when she had lost both her lover and her brother. Her voice was raw when she answered, and she hated herself for revealing her sorrow to this woman, but what choice did she have?

"Believe me, Ambassador, that I wanted nothing else than to have my brother's murderer executed, but I knew Lord Kell better than you obviously do."

"Oh," Beryd said dismissively, "I have heard all the extraordinary tales of his exploits, all told by Sith, I should mention, or their associates. I must say I find some of those tales hard to believe, and I sometimes even believe that you and your kind take this man as excuse for your own short-comings and failures. Lord Kell seems to be your prime scapegoat for anything that goes wrong, and it seems very convenient for you to blame each disaster on him, instead of taking responsibility yourself."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" the Empress snapped.

"If you were so sincere in condemning Roj Kell's deeds you would not work so closely with this Cor'dan of yours. Naas Deron is not one bit better than Lord Kell, when push comes to shove. And besides, you still wear the scars you received when you were implanted with Yuuzhan Vong micro organisms, and you wear them proudly. Is that the reaction of a former prisoner toward her captors? Roganda Ismaren, who shared a fate similar to yours, had her implants removed first chance she got."

"She is not Empress of the Yuuzhan Vong survivors," Yana retorted between clenched teeth. "And I made my choice for the Yuuzhan Vong's survival. So you see, I did not condone a genocide, the way your warlords wanted it. Was it not the New Republic diplomats who railed against my clemency toward what you called 'brutal butchers'? How dare you accuse me of being a cold-hearted despot, when it is your government that seeks to destroy my people? Do not think I turn a blind eye on your activities," she continued, leaning toward the other woman, "I am well aware of the New Republic's misgivings. And yet," she conceded, "I put up with your coming here and flinging lies in my face. I wonder why I should bother?"

Niki Beryd turned very pale. "Your Highness, my government is not at all pleased with the course you are taking in this affair."

"Which affair would that be? My daughter's disappearance in New Republic space? Your government did not even offer assistance to me in regards to recovering her. Did you know that? Yes, of course, they talked all about worrying over the princess' fate, and about offering condolences to me. But they never did. Never, Ambassador, have I heard a word of apology, a reassurance of your help, all I heard was that you demanded to include your own investigators on the case of the foiled assassination attempts on my husband." Yana Dar reclined in her chair, assuming a very relaxed position. "You see, Ambassador, that I have no reason at all to dance to your tune. I never will. I do not care what your government thinks of my actions. All I care about is my people's approval. And that I will gain, you can rely on that. One last thing, before you leave," she added coldly, "If I hear another of those lies from your mouth, the New Republic embassy on Byss will be closed down. Is that understood?"

Niki Beryd rose from her chair and gave a grim nod, "I understand, Your Highness. By your leave?"

"Of course." Yana waited until the door had closed behind the ambassador, then paid a call to Alyn Cha, the priestess of the Yun-Harla sect.

"Your Majesty," the Yuuzhan Vong female said with a smile, "good news. I had prepared a report for you to be presented this afternoon. It appears that there is indeed a connection to Domain Carr concerning the assassination of my beloved father. Perhaps we should send out a fleet to Nirauan and pay a visit to Tikoon Domain Carr."

At the mention of the domain's elder, Yana felt her color rise again in anger, buts he refused to rise to the bait, "Your report can wait until this afternoon, Alyn Cha," she cut the other female short, "I want you to set your people on observing Ambassador Beryd very closely. I want to know exactly what she reports to her superior on Coruscant."

"Of course, Your Highness," the priestess replied eagerly, "but what about Domain Carr?"

For a moment the Empress' eyes narrowed in suspicion, but then she said, "Do not worry yourself with that right now. Just do as I told you. I will see you this afternoon."

When Alyn Cha inclined her head in a slight bow, Yana cut the connection, thinking. Why was Alyn Cha so eager to move against Domain Carr? Of course, one of Franzis' would-be assassins had been a member of that domain, in fact, had been one of Marayl Carr's sons. But Naas Deron had killed him before he could have done any harm. Was the Yun-Harla sect trying to blame Domain Carr? And was that blame justified? Yana found that she sorely missed High Priest Elu Cha's advice. For all his subtle hostility he had always been honest with her. The old priest's death could have been no coincidence. Perhaps he had been too close to uncovering the real truth, and had been murdered for his trouble. That possibility seemed more and more likely. And the web of conspirators surrounding the Empress appeared to have become tighter than ever. Could she trust Alyn Cha? Not at all. The only one she could trust was Franzis, and, according to her beloved husband, Naas Deron and Mahel Sivaraya.

There was a knock at the door, and Myryane stuck her worried-looking face in. "Your Highness, Jiliha n'Averone is here to see you," she explained.

Yana jerked in surprise. Of all people she would not have expected Franzis' second on the Advisory Council to pay her a visit. The woman was sharp and very pretty. Blushing ever so slightly, Yana rose from her chair and smoothed down the front of her suit self-consciously. "Let her in," she ordered. But when the woman entered, the Empress Yana Dar unconsciously felt reminded of a day long past, when she had been betrayed to her enemies, deceived by her own advisors. Back then it had been Hah Kima, who had entered her office, smiling indulgently, just as Jiliha was doing right now. And he had been the one who had delivered the Empress into the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong. Yana stood her ground, her anger flaring, but there was a tiny flicker of fear in her heart when she realized that this time she was all alone.

"What do you want?" she demanded, her mind focused tightly, ready to lash out.

Jiliha n'Averone seemed unperturbed by her hostility. "Your Highness, we need to talk," she explained.

"And what about?"

"Your successor."

He had been walking aimlessly, seeing and hearing nothing, too consumed by his wife's darkness to even care. What was going on inside her head? Why did she not trust him any longer? It hurt so much to be so misunderstood by the one person he loved above everyone else, even his own child. But the ties that bound him to Yana seemed to be even thicker than blood. They knew each other heart and soul, they were one mind, or had been, for so long. But now everything had changed. Lips compressed into a tight line the Royal Consort curled his right hand into a fist and lay it upon his chest, but that gesture did nothing to calm the storm that raged in his heart and mind. Yana had made it abundantly clear that she would not be reasonable. How often had he warned her of her temper? Too often. And even though she had apologised to him, her husband felt that something had been broken between them. The very thought made him feel afraid.

She had given him hope when he'd had none, had given him purpose when all he could see was death and destruction. He had believed in her so very hard that she had become larger than life in his eyes. She was his sun, his everything. But now her glorious shine was fading, devoured by her own sorrow and worry over Luzaya's fate. Thinking of her reaction to their daughter's disappearance made Franzis feel angry all of a sudden. Though she had not said it outright, he knew that secretly she blamed him for the danger Luzaya now found herself in. And that was very painful indeed. He had told her, of course, that he would sacrifice their child if he deemed it necessary, but did she believe him so cold to leave his daughter behind at the mere glimpse of danger? He would never do that. Never. And yet he had been terribly sincere when he had cautioned her to never think him in her place. He could never succeed her, never. He was not fit to bear that responsibility. Not fit to make decisions so grave. He needed her to turn his policies into something more humane that what he envisioned. During his training as Imperial Agent and assassin it had been drilled into him to be cold and rational. He had taken those lessons to heart and could not forsake them. It was different when he was with his family, of course. But not so different that he could ever forget what he had been taught.

To seize any opportunity possible to destroy your opponent.

It did not matter whether the victim was diminished physically or mentally, all that mattered was total victory. If Franzis were allowed to do as he pleased he would purge the Sith Empire's government of every corrupt, every inefficient, every dishonest individual alive. If he were to decide, he would have made Naas Deron breathe every single secret he held about the conspiracy that was worrying Yana and him so. But that was the catch, wasn't it? He was not in charge. And Yana held a mirror to his face with her outbursts, reminded him of being reasonable, of being cunning rather than cruel. But what if that was the wrong path? What if Yana was right?

He stopped his aimless pacing when a shadow loomed large over his path. Looking up, Franzis Sarreti found himself standing in the entrance to the Temple of Rebirth. A cold smile flashed across his lips then, and he wondered whether he had been guided here by more than just his bad conscience and anger. He had wanted to speak to Deron anyway, hadn't he? Stepping into the cool interior of the sanctuary he felt strangely at ease when the darkness enfolded him whole and he strode toward the altar set into the midst of the giant chamber that had seen so little worshippers so far. None were present at this time of day. But the sanctuary's guardian was there, clad in black, as always, waiting for his visitor. Naas Deron, his dark hair and almost black eyes melting into the shadows surrounding him, making his physical form appear like a shroud containing living darkness, did not say a word as Franzis moved to join him.

"You refused to help me once," the Royal Consort said calmly, his grey eyes looking into the Cor'dan's dark orbs unflinchingly. "Will you refuse again?"

"What help do you need?" Deron asked, his voice tightly controlled. "I told you all you need to know."

"Not quite. You told me nothing I did not know and nothing I should have known. Luzaya has vanished."

"Along with her bodyguard," Naas replied dismissively, "I know that:"

Franzis bristled at that, but kept himself under control, "And why then did you not see fit to tell us? Tell us that she is safe?"

"Who said she was safe? Far from it." Shrugging, the Sith Lord turned away and made as if to retreat to his private chambers.

But Franzis held him back physically, something he had never done before. He was not afraid of this man, his daughter' mentor and lover, he knew him too well for that, and the rules he lived by. "Tell me everything you know," he demanded coldly, "Everything. Who is behind this, how you mean to defeat them and how I can help you do just that."

"Where is your wife? Did you leave her behind?" Deron's voice was all too calm, his expression all too indifferent.

"Leaver her behind?" Franzis shook his head, bewildered. "She is back at the palace, where else?" He hesitated briefly, realising the true meaning of the Cor'dan's question. He shook his head again, more vehemently than before, "I did not leave her behind. I never did."

"You should stand by her side," Naas Deron said softly, "Did I not tell you just that? And yet you have buried yourself in work, have deserted her time and again, too much a coward to confront her. How do you justify that? By swearing you love her too much to hurt her? That is not the way," he whispered. "Not the way." His eyes took on a faraway look, as he gazed over Franzis' head across the sanctuary's main hall. "They're coming," he added then, so softly Franzis was barely able to hear him.

Surprised, the Royal Consort whirled around, facing the entrance to the temple, and only now became aware of the sound of hovercraft assembling in front of the structure, of snapped orders and weapons being checked. Turning to the Cor'dan again he asked, almost pleading, "What is going on? You have to help me! For Force's sake, man, you have to!"

But Deron's answer was as hard as it was brief, "Not yet," he growled, his almost black eyes burning with sudden anger. "Now get out of my way. No one violates this sanctuary. No one."

Raising his right hand imploringly toward the entrance, the Cor'dan, spoke a single word, and suddenly the chamber was flooded in writhing shadows that crawled across the walls and floor and ceiling like living things.

Spooked by the sight, Franzis cowered back, his eyes widening. There was the crackle of lightning in the air as the room charged with incredible pressure. Sarreti's ears began to hurt uncomfortably, and he sank to his knees, closing his eyes tightly. "Stop it!" he yelled. "Stop this at once!"

But when he looked up again, still on his knees, twisting his shoulders so he could face the Cor'dan, his breath faltered. Body sheathed in a golden glow, Naas Deron was standing with arms spread at his sides, as if in welcome. His features were eerily calm, his black eyes unfocused. But Franzis could sense that this was merely the calm before the storm.

"It is too late," he heard the Cor'dan whisper. "Go. The future rests on your shoulders now."

Staggering to his feet, his face a snarl, the Royal Consort shook his head. "I will not leave her. Ever," he snapped, and threw a quick glance back toward the entrance. "If you won't help me," he continued, facing Deron once more, "I will do this on my own."

"Then you die," was all the Sith Priest answered. "Your decision. But leave you will. Now."

Compelled by something other than his own will, Franzis Sarreti found himself running toward the back of the temple and into the Cor'dan's private chambers, howling with impotent rage. Yana! Yana was in danger. He was running of his own volition by the time he was closing in on the royal palace. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he had to admit to himself that Naas Deron had been right. He had deserted his wife when she had most had need of him. Whatever happened now was his responsibility, the fruits of his failure.

But when he reached his wife's office he found her gone, and instead Jiliha n'Averone was seated behind the desk, looking very smug. Instantly, Franzis' raw and aching heart was receding behind the shelter of icy cold anger. For a moment they were frozen like this, Jiliha with her mouth open in surprise, Franzis with his lips pressed so tightly together that his mouth became a bloodless line of suppressed fury. But then he stepped forward, four precise, very neat steps that brought him up to the desk swiftly, and with a movement so smooth it looked almost elegant, he grabbed the table's edge and flung it at the usurper of his wife's place, a move that shattered the chair she had been perched on and her arm, if he interpreted the crack of bone and her piercing scream correctly.

He wore no weapon, by rule, for no weapon was allowed into the Empress' presence, with the sole exception of the hand-picked royal guardsmen. But he could improvise. A splinter of the broken chair made for a perfect dagger that was held awfully close to Jiliha's left eye. She seemed fascinated by the sharp tip of wood, and for a long time she could say not one single word. So it was Franzis who spoke first.

"You were behind this conspiracy," he declared, his voice surprisingly steady. "Only you had all the information."

"You had best drop your weapon, Your Highness," she replied, oh so very cool.

They stared at one another even longer. But Franzis knew that she had him bang to rights. He was a survivor, not a warrior. He would relent, he would bide his time, wracking his mind for a way to turn this situation to his advantage. And he would never ever risk Yana's life. "Where is she?" he demanded at last, still unwilling to let go of his makeshift dagger.

"Section six of the Imperial Constitution lays out the procedures of dealing with a monarch accused of treason," Jiliha answered, a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. "I do remember how you raged against that wording, Franzis, I remember it very well. But your wife approved, did she not? She said she did not want the people to think she was trying to protect her position at all costs. She said she did not want to be seen as the selfish tyrant her father was. Foolish, don't you think?"

"You won't get away with this," Franzis said at last, his anger seeping away quickly now. "You cannot win."

"Drop your weapon," a male voice said from behind him. "Please, Your Highness."

Jiliha answered Franzis' unspoken question freely, "You see, Franzis, you are not accused of treason, only your wife is. That is the beauty of being second in power, isn't it?"

"Whatever her fate will be," he replied, so low only she could hear him, "I will share it."

The Temple of Rebirth was a total loss. What was not destroyed by the heavy weapons of the special military units storming the complex fell prey to the Cor'dan's cold precision and buried most of the soldiers underneath massive stone. He could feel it when the falling masonry crushed the circuitry that connected the temple on Byss to its numerous counterparts all over the Sith Empire. The live-feed would have shown clearly what had happened here, and the seed of revolution would have been sown among the Cor'dan's believers. Not many here on Byss, but millions more out in the Unknown Territories, where the former slaves and Shamed Ones had made their homes, far from the Yuuzhan Vong elite castes that had held the power of life and death over them for too long. Would Jiliha n'Averone even care? Deron doubted it. She would feel secure on Byss, with her human minions and greedy Yuuzhan Vong collaborators. But Naas Deron had played his card already in the very beginning of this game.

Wiping dust off his black cloak, he smiled, then took the garment off and dropped it carelessly to the floor. A symbol only, worthless in itself. It was easy letting go of it, as easy as saying goodbye to his home and the temple itself. He had no possessions on him, only the clothes he wore, but that was not bothering him. He was Cor'dan. He was beyond mortal needs. For now his path was predestined, and all he could do was follow it to the end. So he walked away undisturbed, vanishing into the streets of Byss like a shadow himself. There were allies to be found even here, and the time to find them was now. No point in wasting his breath. He remembered Mahel telling him of his landlord, a human by the name of Cordell Tryway, and a royalist and admirer of Yana Dar to boot. He would do for starters. And then … Naas Deron smiled in utter delight. And then he would do what he was best at: fight.

TBC