Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, I wouldn't be looking for a job in the terrifying post-college world.
Wellingtonboots: Thanks! Here's not one,but TWO chapters! Poor Joclad really can't win. :)
A/N: Parts of Palpatine's speech adapted from one of the SW Insiders - presumably written by George Lucas. Oh, if only we'd heard the entire thing… I interspersed bits and pieces of my own continuation of the speech, but most of it's his work.
A/N2: I didn't read the RotS novel, though I flipped through it and I think Palpatine had the audio recording altered… I figured visual might sway the Senate more, though, so I used that.
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12. Revelation
"Good morning," Palpatine croaked from beneath a black cowl, and on the holovid, the senators murmured amongst themselves – and with good reason. His voice sounded like he'd doused his esophagus with hot shielding fluid and then neglected to get proper medical treatment. Devona knew work-droids with more appealing vocal capabilities. "Citizens of the civilized galaxy, on this day we mark a transition."
He's going to explain what happened to the Jedi Temple. And he'd better explain what happened to him, too... "What's wrong with his voice?" Devona asked, tuning out the man's opening remarks. Politicians really needed to stop blathering on about the strength of the galaxy and get to the point.
Elan cocked his head to the side. "Could be Corellian throat flu. That stuff can be virulent."
"Sssh," Arden said. She sounded as though she were watching a spectacular holoflick and didn't want to miss a second.
"...In doing so, we never suspected that the greatest threat came from within."
Devona blinked. This wasn't what she'd expected at all.
The Senate made some unhappy noises. Palpatine appeared to gather his thoughts. "The Jedi, and some within our own Senate, had conspired to create the shadow of Separatism using one of their own as the enemy's leader." Palpatine paused for effect, and Devona scratched at her arm.
"I don't get it," Elan Sleazebaggano said. "The Jedi…made the Separatists?"
Devona blinked again. "That's some pretty powerful Force-stuff right there." Privately, she wondered if Dack and Joclad's combined powers could conjure her up a new hyperdrive converter. If Jedi could make entire systems of dissenters, then a piece of machinery ought to be a snap.
Joclad sucked in a breath. "Wait," he said. "Wait. Dooku—they can't be thinking about Dooku…?"
Palpatine, seeing that he had the full attention of his audience, continued. "They had hoped to grind the Republic into ruin. But the hatred in their hearts could not be hidden forever."
"Hatred?" Joclad demanded, just as Dack asked, "Are they talking about us?"
"Be quiet," Arden said. Both the Jedi shut their mouths, though something that looked very much like anger was starting to form on Joclad's face. Dack just looked stunned.
"At last, there came a day when our enemies showed their true natures…"
The image of the Chancellor and the Senate was replaced by a view of a well-appointed office, one that Devona vaguely placed as being Palpatine's. She recognized the dark-skinned Master Mace Windu coming into the picture with three other Jedi clustered behind him. "Kit," Da Dack murmured as he identified at least one of Jedi. Devona chanced a glance at the Corellian and found him staring wide-eyed at the screen, one hand half-shielding his eyes as though he didn't really want to look. By the time she looked back to the 'vid, lightsabers had been ignited, and the image blipped slightly as though it encountered interference.
The image shut off. "The Jedi were able to disable the recorders, clearly to cover up their crime," Palpatine said hoarsely. "I have discovered...that they meant to take control of the Senate -- and through it, the galaxy! The Jedi hoped to unleash their destructive power against the Republic by assassinating the head of government and usurping control of the clone army."
Devona looked at Dack and Joclad. Galactic conquerors? Really? She'd met Dack's former master, a cheerful Nautolan, only once, but Kit had never struck her as the sort to wantonly attack the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. Then again, midichlorians possibly made people do crazy things. Joclad…well, she didn't know much about Joclad Danva, save the fact that he liked breaking rules and heads.
"The Jedi were massing in the temple to attack this very building! Their power went unchecked for too long!" He leaned over his podium, staring intently at the now-silent Senate. "Hundreds of Jedi, ready and willing to act upon their dark thoughts!"
"Padawans and younglings," Joclad growled, "padawans and younglings...none of them stood a chance..."
Devona looked sideways at Arden, who gazed at the screen with that fixed look she got when contemplating issues of great galactic importance. Her expression did not change as Palpatine presented his evidence -- some of it damning -- and drew forth even more support.
Devona realized she ought to be grateful: she was witnessing history first-hand.
It was not a history she had ever cared to see.
They showed a hologram of the events in the Chancellor's chamber again. Dack wanted to hurl the remote right through the screen, or at the very least chuck the entire 'vid out the window. They're lying, he wanted to tell Devona's inquisitive stare. Kit wouldn't do that! Kit couldn't! No one wanted to rule the galaxy! It's too much work!
But the words froze in his throat.
Master Windu...Master Tinn...Kit…
Apparently Kit Fisto was no match for the Chancellor's security team, whatever it was comprised of. None of them were; Palpatine's continued existence proved that.
He's probably dead…they all must be. If Joclad's story about the temple was not a drug-induced hallucination… .
But Master Fisto, involved in a plot for galactic domination? Kit would never do that. Kit didn't even like ordering his padawans around. Dack, please watch the tentacles. Dack, be careful, you might slip. It'll be all right, Dack, we all have our setbacks.
No. Who knew what the blazes was going on in Master Windu's mind – but Kit Fisto would never… never….
Dack watched Kit's expression carefully, focusing on the still-determined glint in his former master's huge dark eyes. Kit had sat at his bedside in the days following Geonosis, bringing his young padawan Rickon to explain some of the intricacies of Force-healing. Dack was quite familiar with that glint; he'd gotten a good dose of it in the minutes before his surgery, when Kit quite firmly said that Dack must not become one with the Force just yet.
Master Fisto, with his wry sense of humor and love of all things aquatic -- gone?
All of them just gone?
Something small and warm slipped into his hand. He looked away from the screen long enough to find that Dev had sneaked up beside him. She gave him a little smile, and squeezed his fingers. I don't believe them, her presence said. I don't believe them at all.
He squeezed back. Good old Devi.
Palpatine was not finished. "The rest of the Jedi will be hunted down and defeated!"
The Senate went ballistic. Well, that was a nice dose of political loyalty. "Defeated" probably means "killed." Wait, that means me.
His knee, never given a chance to heal, chose that moment to give out. He sat down hard on the floor, still gazing at the screen with glassy eyes. Devona and Elan were on him instantly, the former shaking his shoulder while the latter rolled up his trouser leg and mumbled something about disinfectant.
Outlaws. Menaces to society. Dack just shook his head. How could it happen? Why?
"...any collaborators will suffer the same fate..."
The odd little spark that was Elan's aura dimmed slightly. Dack switched his stare to the Balosar. "Gonna turn us in, Elan?"
Devona froze. Joclad looked over from the 'vid, his gaze unfathomable. "Don't give him any ideas."
Elan didn't quite look at him for several agonizing seconds. He didn't strike Dack as the sort to go running to whoever was in charge anyway, but maybe…. "C'mon, Elan…." He thought about applying a little bit of persuasion, just enough to deter the dealer from running to the comlink if that was what he'd intended to do. "Not after all our fun together."
The Balosar studied Dack's knee, and then looked at Devona. Dack probed him cautiously with the Force, and to his great surprise, he found no inherent treachery -- just surprise, confusion, and maybe a little fear. Elan rubbed at his neck, and for the first time, Dack noticed faint imprints of fingers against his skin.
Joclad, he thought. He's always threatened to do that…
Elan shook his head. "Buzz-girl, get me the blue package under the sink. Hurry up, he's been running around on a blasted leg."
Somewhat chagrined, Dack left Elan's mind alone.
"This is an outrage!" At last, a dissenting voice boomed across the Senate chambers, interrupting the screeching cheers of a thousand worlds. Dack looked away from the fumbling Balosar and squinted at the screen as Garm Bel Iblis slammed his hand down against his pod. "You cannot simply order the extermination of an Order that has protected us for thousands of years! You cannot—"
"They were plotting a galactic takeover, Senator Bel Iblis. Or should I have waited 'til they landed on your homeworld?"
"Be careful, Garm," Dack muttered, even as he admired the man's loyalty. Garm Bel Iblis of Corellia had grown increasingly critical of the Jedi involvement in the Clone War -- and indeed, of the conflict itself -- but he would not leave them to die without some sort of dissent, would he? Surely other senators would rise to his call…
"You should have asked the leave of the Galactic Senate before signing the execution warrants of six thousand!" Bel Iblis gestured wildly to the other pods. "Who is with me? Who will stand for the Jedi?"
Dack held his breath. There was a meager response from the crowd, enough to suggest that not all of the Senate thirsted for his blood….
But most of them did, and the Corellian senator was shouted down.
Garm Bel Iblis looked around with his mouth slightly agape, but otherwise said no more.
Palpatine waited a long moment before responding. "Senator Bel Iblis, I believe you are in the minority."
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This is all my fault, Joclad decided. Then, no, no it's not. I didn't bring this on. I'm not a Sith Lord.
It would be easier for a Sith to exist, now that the Jedi were gone. A shame Dooku didn't hang around longer, he'd be so damned pleased with the situation…
He looked down at his hands, because that was easier than watching Palpatine issue his death warrant. Everyone thinks I'm dead anyway, or should… hell, even members of the Jedi Order thought he'd died on Geonosis! Joclad, amused when someone stopped in their tracks and gaped at him, had never bothered correcting the death notice. There was just something so satisfying about watching the color drain from the face of one of the higher-ranking Knights or Masters.
He tried flexing the fingers of his left hand and was pleased when they moved at his command. He wouldn't gain full mobility for awhile – and Elan had made it quite clear that Joclad had been patched up rather than fully healed – but he was damned pleased to see the digits functioning as they ought.
Even that didn't do much for his mood. If I'd been better… if I'd been faster… if I hadn't… he looked back up at Palpatine on the holovid and scowled. The Jedi Council had always fawned over Palpatine and his devotion to the Order…though during the last few weeks, his insistence that Skywalker be placed within the circle of masters had started some odd rumors circulating.
Skywalker got to be best friends with the Chancellor, and he nearly made Master…he's younger than I am… I'll never be a Master, now…am I even a Knight anymore? After what I did?
Not that Joclad had ever particularly lusted after a seat on the Council. He thought of himself as a man of action rather than deliberation, and he'd listened to enough of Depa's stories to know that the Council Tower wasn't for him. Still, it was the principle of the thing. Skywalker joined the Council and became a Sith Lord. I bet I wouldn't have done that.
He looked at Dack and wondered if the Corellian sensed any lingering darkness around him. Dack just looked supremely depressed, his mouth hanging slightly open.
Joclad clasped his hand into a fist. Well, it's not like there's anyone left to demote me anyway, if what Palpy says is true.
"The rest of the Jedi will be hunted down and defeated…." Palpatine went on long after that proclamation, and Joclad's fingernails dug into the skin of his palm. And you were one of our greatest supporters, you stupid old fool. You turned on us awfully quickly, didn't you?
The vaguest beginnings of a thought crept into his mind, but he banished it quickly. No. That can't be. He's just a politician enjoying the moment…
Palpatine spoke strongly against the Order, and the thrum of approval from the Senate increased with virtually every sentence. Joclad felt his disgust turning into something else, something familiar, and yet – what was it? He nearly felt ill as he watched so many cheer over the deaths of people he'd known, as Palpatine said that Cin's death, Serra's death, that such things were necessary… were good….
And Depa is gone, I'm sure he thinks that's good as well…. Joclad ground his teeth. He could see Palpatine viewing Cin as a troublemaker, but Depa… Depa was good….
He realized what he felt.
I hate him. I hate all of them.
Jedi felt no hate. Jedi felt nothing. Jedi banished emotion and all the complexities and problems that came with it.
But we didn't all do that. I didn't…. No. He'd tried to adhere to the Code – when it suited him, more often than not – but he'd hated the clones, hadn't he? He'd hated Darth Anakin. But had he always hated?
There were other emotions, once. He remembered happiness and humor and the gruff affection of his master—my father—and Depa, what about Depa….
But all that was gone, taken from him before he had so much as an instant to say goodbye.
You took them from me, he thought at the feeble-looking Chancellor in his pod. You took them from me, I know you did…you wouldn't be so happy about this otherwise…you took my life, my friends, everyone I loved…
And he had loved them: loved people as Master Windu loved the Republic, as Jocasta Nu loved her Archives. Joclad had liked the Republic in general, and possessed a healthy respect for its occupants and its goals. He upheld its laws as any good Jedi ought, but as he watched everything he ever knew crumble to ash, he realized that he, Joclad Danva, had not been as good a Jedi as he should have been.
Because I loved. And love is forbidden. The love of a Jedi for the Republic might be excused as duty or even perfection, but for a Jedi to love those he thought of as a family, for those that he so desperately missed….
Palpatine didn't look particularly sturdy. Joclad could probably snap him like a twig if he were so inclined. He smiled at the thought. I could get you with my bare hands, old man…you don't know who I am, what I can do…
He wanted to run out of the room; if he didn't see what was happening, maybe it wouldn't happen. He laughed at himself even then, chalked the thought up to the remnants of the deathsticks coursing through his system and poisoning what remained of his rationalizing capabilities. I went to Elan and deathed out. I'm no better than Skywalker. I should have killed him… he was so strong. Stronger than me. Never thought I'd see that day. Luckier than me, maybe, but….
He looked back down at his hands. Maybe to fully turn, you can't do it for something good. I wanted to save Depa and that was good. And he still beat me.
Yes, that must have been it.
He was the Chosen One, his better side murmured. His power is far beyond anything you could even have—
I should have stopped him, Joclad thought, shutting his eyes against the pain in his hand and the words from the Chancellor. I should have done everything I could. I would have. I should have stopped him…
But I didn't.
I didn't.
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The rest of the Jedi will be hunted down and defeated! Arden wondered how long that would take. She had two Jedi sitting right in front of her, and if someone as hapless as Meridian had gotten away with his life, then certainly others did as well. Whether or not the rest would be smart enough to lie low for awhile remained to be seen. Jedi tended to have a nasty habit of leaping into righteous battle at the wrong times.
Or maybe all the time, she thought, glancing at Danva. Who takes on a Sith Lord, anyway? …besides me.
The galaxy screamed for their deaths. Palpatine had them wrapped around his pinky, and they gobbled up his words like hungry children in the Kessel mines. He spoke of his disfigurement, his resolve, his willingness to keep peace and stability.
After the Corellian senator had spoken, there was no visible dissent. That troubled her even more than the declaration itself. Fine, he could wipe out the Order if he liked, but there must have been someone who didn't agree with the man.
The camera did not zoom in extraordinarily deeply on Palpatine's face, but a hint of gold peeked out from beneath his robe. Arden felt her lip curling upward into a smirk. A pack of Jedi accosting a politician? And the crowds believe it. Has their image really become so distorted? Cavorting around the galaxy had revealed that the Jedi were not in the public's good graces these days, but Arden was hard-pressed to think of a single group that hated the Order outright.
But then again, her recent travels had rarely crossed with those who encountered Jedi. Perhaps she should have been more perceptive.
"We stand on the threshold of a new beginning," the Chancellor promised. Hmm. The man did know how to deliver a damn fine speech. She had to give him that.
He gave the Senate exactly what it wanted: a scapegoat. The Jedi Order. Brilliant, if they hate the Jedi so much… Privos must be laughing hysterically right now. Dooku as well.
Ah, wait, they offed Dooku awhile ago, didn't they? Still, the point remained.
Arden turned her head slightly to the side, eyeing Joclad Danva. He'd cleaned himself up some since she'd last seen him and cut himself off from the Force, to boot. Probably a good thing; he's got a strong presence otherwise.
Though nowhere near strong enough to take on a Sith… but then again, Jedi these days were slow learners.
And there it was. Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi Order's mighty Chosen One, had only turned recently. He'd been in the public eye far too long to have trained under Dooku, and even if he had, who could have trained Dooku?
Another flash of gold from under the cowl. "The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed, but I assure you my resolve has never been stronger."
The Sith are master planners. She mouthed the words, and took a closer look at Palpatine as he promised order and a mighty starfleet. Oh, he's good. He's very, very good…
"He's out of his mind," Dack murmured.
Arden folded her arms, watching the screen intently. "I imagine that's your Sith Lord."
"That wrinkled old thing? Really?"
She nodded. "Looks are deceiving, Meridian. I've seen a few Sith Lords in my day...some were pretty, some were…well, not." Her mind was already working through the situation, identifying questions that needed immediate answers. How long had the man plotted this? How old was he truly?
How had the Teräs Käsi Order missed it so completely?
How had she missed it? That aspect bothered her most of all. I must be getting complacent in my old age.
We're not fools. We were never fools. But now...fools have been made of us. He'd slipped right through their defenses, setting up shop directly atop the Republic. Damn it. He's really good.
She had no time to sympathize with the Jedi, whose lives had abruptly and irrevocably changed. Hell, in Arden's opinion, the Order had required some sort of deep-cleaning centuries prior, and this latest purge was nothing more than a long-needed culling. But at the moment she only had eyes for the croaking mass of wrinkles atop his throne as he called out for support and reassured those who dared to speak out.
Elan the dealer still hunched over the fallen Dack Meridian, his wide eyes half-covered by some sort of inner membrane. His antennae shivered, and Arden Lyn caught hold of his line of thought: how many deathsticks two Jedi would bring in. She snatched the thought in midair and shattered it, replacing the void with the vague fear that Palpatine might well crack down on the drug trade.
The Balosar trembled, and Arden returned her attention to the Chancellor. The Sith. Oh, this is priceless. Absolutely priceless.
He hid from the Jedi all these years. He hid from the Teräs Käsi, from the fringe groups, from everyone. So Privos was right...this runs deeper than anything we imagined. But did he know how deep?
"In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society which I assure you will last for ten thousand years."
Danva grabbed the nearest object – an empty nerf stick carton – and hurled it at the 'vid. The carton bounced harmlessly off the screen, but Arden felt the continued backlash from both of the Jedi. It took her a moment to remember the ridiculous oath to uphold the Republic and all of its glory – an oath set into place millennia before, when the Republic was worthy of such a thing….
"By all the stars of Hapes," Devona gasped. "He can't do--"
"He just did," Arden said. She waited for someone to complain – the Corellian Senator, perhaps; they tended to argue purely for the sake of argument. It didn't matter who; someone always protested.
Palpatine went on without interruption, leaving Danva's infuriated carton-tossing as the only real acknowledgement of the Republic's death.
Arden buried her face in her hands. "You idiots!"
Danva chose that moment to re-open his interest in her. "Not that I don't agree, but who are you?"
She gave him a cool look. "You can call me Arden Lyn, if you like." No use in secrecy, not in these times. The Jedi may have taken the first hit, but she had a lingering feeling that soon every Force-user in the galaxy would be a target.
His brow furrowed, and Arden felt a twinge of pleasure. Clearly he recognized the name from somewhere; it was just a matter of remembering. Good to know I haven't faded into legend entirely.
Elan Sleazebaggano twitched an antenna in the direction of the 'vid, but otherwise concentrated on Meridian's knee.
The feel of the galaxy changed. The Force itself shifted, uneasy beneath the weight of the Dark Side as it unfurled its wings. Even Danva -- whose usually bright presence in the Force was dimmed to no more than a spark -- sucked in a breath, likely feeling an odd tingling down his spine as the stars realigned. Everything felt the same, yet different. Arden recalled feeling like this once before, during the Schism...
Oh, gods. This cannot happen again.
Palpatine named squadrons. He named Senators. He made promises.
Bel Iblis finally sounded a call from his pod, still docked in its bay. "I dispute this," he said, loud enough to still a bit of squabbling from the newscasters. "I dispute it all."
The Senate jeered. Palpatine actually smiled. "I am sorry you feel that way, Senator. Perhaps, then, it's best to return home and leave the galaxy to us?"
Bel Iblis gave him a curt nod. "So be it…Emperor."
And with that, he turned on his heel and exited the pod, his entourage following close behind him.
"He's a dead man," Danva said, his voice a tired monotone. "Incredibly dead."
"I have to see it," Meridian said suddenly. Arden barely had time to get out of the way as the Corellian pushed Elan aside, leaning on Devona as he scrambled awkwardly to his feet. "I just saw it on the 'vid. I need to see it."
"Don't go out there," Arden warned. "They'll shoot on sight." And if they find one Jedi they'll ransack the entire building… and then where would everyone be? She'd need to find a new pilot if they killed Devona.
"Not out there," Dack said, "up there… Joclad, give me a hand."
Danva shook his head. "I'm not participating in…." But he trailed off, offering an arm as Meridian hobbled for the door. Arden sighed and snagged Sleazebaggano's elbow to tote him along, granting Meridian an entourage as he made his way out of the apartment and down the hall to the turbolift.
Arden took the long route, bolting up stairs in a flash of crimson fire. She could not quite beat the little group to the top of Sleazebaggano's crusty apartment building, but she exited the top hatch just as Meridian stumbled to the edge of the terrace and gawked at the smoke that tunneled across the sky.
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I should have tied him down or something. It's finally hitting him. Joclad still felt a little groggy after moving around so much following a deathstick high, but his mind was clear enough to focus on deterring Dack from doing something profoundly heroic and stupid.
Besides, chasing Dack gave him something to do. And if that helped chase the dark thoughts away…
"The people," Dack muttered, "all of them…." His eyes lit up as an idea came to him, one that Joclad already knew he must soundly trounce. "We need to rescue them! There might still be someone there!"
Yep. Heroic and stupid. Joclad wanted nothing more than to give the Corellian a good thwap upside the head but found he couldn't muster the energy. "We can't go there -- can't, Dack. I was just there."
"But Kit…Kit and Rickon…." Dack gnawed on his lower lip. "Well, maybe we can leave Rickon…."
"I saw Rickon die." It had to be said. It had to. "He was with Jocasta Nu. He showed me Skywalker and died."
Dack stared at him. Years of diplomatic training had clearly never prepared him for this.
We're on the same starship, old friend. Joclad hesitated, and then reached down, pulling Cin's lightsaber off his belt. He knew Cin's signature was still evident across it, and touching the thing even without the Force made his skin crawl with memories. But he clenched his fingers around the damned device and held it out.
Dack stared at the 'saber as Joclad pressed it into his hand, and yanked away when his fingers brushed the metal. "No," he said, "No, no…."
"He's dead, Dack. They're all dead." He'd practiced the words in his head over and over again, even as he swapped dirty jokes with Elan and let the Nymerian drugs drown his pain away. "Everyone we knew. Everything."
Dack stared at him blankly. "But the beacon…they're telling us to go home…what if there are some, hiding? We can still help them! You've got a lightsaber, I've got one, and Dev's got a ship…."
"My ship—" Swyfte started to say, but she quickly stopped talking.
Damned optimist. "Home is lost." Joclad said the words so evenly that one might think it did not wreck him to say such a thing. "It's all a trap. If we go there, they'll kill us."
"But we're Jedi…" One look at Dack's face suggested he didn't entirely believe his own argument. "We're supposed to…help people…."
Joclad held back a laugh. You've got a bad leg and they tore me to pieces… we wouldn't be much help to anyone still alive, anyway. "I was in the temple," he said quietly, looking away from the smoldering ruins of his home and down at his left hand. Elan's repairs were temporary at best, and the appendage needed more than the Balosar's limited medical supplies could offer.
The rest of him…. Gods, I think I'm ruined. There were some things even the greatest Jedi Healers could not fix. They hadn't been able to touch the nightmares he still had about Geonosis, and if they couldn't handle that, how could any of them hope to cure Joclad of Skywalker? Of Cin? Of Depa? I am ruined. "We can't go back there, Dack. Look what it did to me."
Dack narrowed his eyes. "You're…." The roar of a shuttle overhead drowned out the remainder of his words, and Joclad glanced up. Arden Lyn took the opportunity to approach with measured steps. "Come inside, both of you," she said. "Getting yourselves killed while gawking is hardly a befitting way for a Jedi to go out."
Joclad wheeled around. "Give him a minute!"
Lyn sighed. "These things happen. The Force shifts and adjusts."
"The Force—" He could scarcely believe she was rationalizing it.
"It happens," Arden repeated loudly. Her tone booked no argument.
Joclad just stared at her, willing himself not to ignite a lightsaber and drive it right through her throat. Anger will only get you in trouble here. Yet he could not let her comment go without redress. "They're not going after your Order. Your people aren't being picked to pieces, killed just for--"
She held up a hand, and his voice simply stopped working. He grabbed at his throat, but found he could breathe just fine – it was as if—
She's muting me!
"Watch yourself, Jedi," Lyn murmured, "I am not an enemy you want right now."
Dack cleared his throat. "I'll be all right," he said, everything about his aura suggesting a desire to avoid conflict. "I just… needed to adjust, that's all…."
Joclad looked from Dack to Lyn. Half the galaxy wants me dead, the rest will back them on it… I can't bring myself to care anymore. He feigned clearing his throat, just to make sure his voice was back, and then sent this Arden Lyn as cool a stare as he could manage. "What's another enemy?"
Danva left them standing up there, though Arden tracked his return to Sleazebaggano's apartment with consummate ease. Meridian looked ready to follow, and Arden held up a hand. "He's just shutting off the holovid. Leave him."
"But--"
"If this is what he needs to hold onto his sanity, then give it to him. We were not present at the temple – well, you weren't – you don't know what went on there. Elan, stop staring at the fire."
"Yes, ma'am… Master Lyn," he said with fear-influenced obedience as he hurried over to join their little circle. "What do you want me to do?"
"You are going to help Devona put her ship back together. Meridian, I want you to dredge up whatever memories or information you have on you as to what Jedi are where. Do not tap into any sources."
They all nodded. Arden ushered them inside, trusting Swyfte to keep Elan in line and hoping Danva would not fly off the handle anytime soon. Only Meridian lingered, his datapad dangling from his fingers. "Master Lyn?"
"Yes?"
"Is this what the -- what the prophecy meant?" He swallowed hard, obviously uncertain about bringing it up at all. "I mean -- is this it? Is this the balance of the Force?"
"I hope not," she said. "For your sake."