Twenty-Eight
Jedi Temple, Tython
14 ATC
The light side of the Force was everywhere, cloaking the room like the misty spray from one of Tython's many waterfalls. K'saria let it wash over her, the collective serenity of countless generations of Jedi loosening the dark knots of turmoil in her mind. Even the power of the Temple was not enough to ease her mind entirely, however. That was why she stood in the presence of a being whose own personal light seemed as great as that of Tython itself.
Grand Master Satele Shan smiled kindly, and K'saria fought the urge to kneel; her instincts to genuflect before such a powerful master of the Force were deeply ingrained. Even after eleven years, she was still learning how to be a Jedi.
"I can sense that you're troubled, K'saria," Satele said.
"I am, and—thank you, Master Satele, for taking the time to meet with me." The words fell out before K'saria quite realized what they were. "I'm sure you have a great deal to do—"
"It's quite all right," Satele interrupted, waving a hand to dismiss the notion. "The path of a Jedi is difficult, especially for those who come to it later in life, and I am always happy to offer whatever guidance I can."
K'saria gave in to instinct and bowed deeply. "I am grateful, Master."
Satele smiled again and moved sedately over to one of the few furnishings in her chamber: a low, square table with flat cushions laid on the floor on each side. She settled herself on one cushion, and motioned to the one across from her. "Come. Sit with me, and tell me what's on your mind."
K'saria sat carefully on the cushion, folding her hands in her lap, and tried to think of how best to explain her predicament. Her upbringing as a Sith had prepared her adequately enough for most things in life, but talking to people was not one of them.
Satele waited patiently for her to begin. Despite what she had said, K'saria was fairly certain that the Grand Master had more important things to do than play therapist, so she sped up her contemplation until she'd managed to arrange her thoughts into a workable verbal form.
"I've been troubled by what happened to Elaedrin Myn," she said slowly. "Try as I might, I just can't seem to let it go." The ridges on her forehead contracted into a frown. "I feel responsible."
Satele nodded. "It's always difficult to lose a comrade—especially to the dark side. But sometimes, Jedi fall, and there is not always anything we can do to prevent it."
"If I had paid more attention," K'saria said bitterly. "If I had spent more time with her, made the dangers of the darkness more clear, she might not have done what she did. I could have saved her."
"It is good to learn from the past, but you can't let it torment you. Elaedrin is beyond your reach, now. You need to let this go."
"I've tried," K'saria whispered. "But every time I close my eyes to meditate, I see her. I see the look on her face when she turned on our troops. I see her kneel before Darth Ravage while Setia Aru lies dead not two meters away."
Satele started to say something, but K'saria kept going.
"On Tatooine, when I confronted Darth Ravage and Darth Nox, I told myself I wanted to bring them to justice, but I didn't. I wanted revenge—for Setia, for Elaedrin, for every Jedi who has suffered at the hands of the Sith. I couldn't find my focus, and my men, my Jedi companions, they all paid for my mistake with their lives. I can feel the dark side drawing close to me, biting at my heels. I'm afraid, Master."
Satele sat silently, clearly processing what she had just heard. She looked at her with a clear, discerning gaze, blue-gray eyes meeting golden. "Are you sure that's what's really troubling you, K'saria?"
"What?" K'saria's distressed frown turned to one of confusion. "Of course it is. What else would I…?" She trailed off, the clutter in her mind melting away under the weight of the Grand Master's presence.
"I can sense," Satele murmured, "That you aren't being entirely honest with yourself."
K'saria took a deep breath. "My sister."
"The Emperor's Wrath."
"Yes. I still can hardly believe that's who she is, now. I never would have imagined that was who she would become. What happened to Elaedrin—it's reminded me. Of how terrible the dark side can truly be. But even so, I would never have expected this. Not of her."
"It's been a long time since you left the Empire," Satele reminded her. "People change."
"That's true. It's still difficult to process." K'saria looked down at the tabletop, the sight of the deep brown wood giving way to the images that paraded before her mind's eye. "Twins are supposed to be close, especially Force-sensitive ones, but we never developed that bond. Even as children, we were constantly pitted against each other."
Satele sat quietly, listening.
"Our parents were first cousins—their marriage was arranged by their parents, to keep our bloodline pure. They hated it, and each other, and they used their children as weapons in their constant battle. K'hera was our father's favorite, while I—" K'saria shook her head. "My mother was a selfish, cruel woman. She didn't care about me, only that I did better than my sister. And for a time, I did.
"Then K'hera went to Korriban and became the apprentice to a Darth, while I…I wasn't chosen by anyone. With no master, I had no future, no chance to advance among the Sith, and my family abandoned me. They—" K'saria's mind finally caught up to her mouth. "Forgive me, Master. I'm wasting your time."
"I always have time for my Knights," Satele said firmly.
"That's very kind of you to say, but I'll still try to keep this brief." K'saria adjusted her position on her cushion. "My sister is… When I saw the darkness in her, I saw the fate that I only narrowly escaped. When we fought on Telos last year, her feelings were clear. She wanted nothing more than to destroy me. We were never close, but it was still disturbing to feel such murderous intent from my own kin."
"I imagine it must have been difficult. Is that what's been troubling you?"
"In a sense. K'hera—" K'saria stopped herself. "I shouldn't call her that. She isn't K'hera anymore. She's Darth A'tro, the Emperor's Wrath, and she represents everything I left behind when I turned my back on the Empire."
Satele nodded.
"Master, I didn't just ask you to meet with me to assuage my worries," K'saria admitted. "I wanted to request your leave to embark upon a special mission."
Satele didn't look even remotely surprised. "You want to go after the Wrath."
"Yes." K'saria's clasped hands tightened together in her lap. "I know the Empire, and how it works. I know how my sister thinks. She is a grave threat to the Republic, and that threat must be eliminated. I know I'm no Shadow, but—"
"No."
K'saria's words died in her throat. "Would you mind explaining that, Master?" she asked carefully.
A frown marred Satele's serene visage. "You yourself said that you fear you're slipping closer to the dark side. To send you out into the field in such a state would be doing you a grave disservice. Beyond that, you are essentially proposing an assassination mission. As a Jedi, I cannot condone this course of action."
"Destroying the Emperor's Wrath could turn the tide of the war in our favor," K'saria protested. "If one Jedi must fall to ensure our victory, that is a sacrifice I will gladly make."
"That sacrifice has already been made too many times. You're letting this become personal," Satele said sternly. "Remember your teachings. Remember the Jedi Code."
"This is not a conclusion influenced by emotion, Master. It's the most logical course of action."
"I'm sure you believe that, but my decision is final." Satele stood up. "I'm removing you from active duty for a while. Some time to rest and meditate here on Tython will do you good, clear your head."
There was no use arguing. K'saria rose to her feet and bowed. "Yes, Master."
"We will defeat the Empire in time, but we cannot sacrifice our own values to do so. That is what makes us different from the Sith."
K'saria felt her face flush from the shame of being lectured like a Padawan. "I know, Master. I didn't mean—" She sighed. "I should have known better than to even think of it."
Satele smiled gently. "Don't be too hard on yourself, K'saria. I know this must be difficult for you. But I don't want to see you share Elaedrin Myn's fate."
"I will meditate on this," K'saria murmured evasively. Satele's piercing gaze suddenly made her feel unpleasantly exposed and vulnerable.
"Then I wish you well. May the Force be with you."
"And with you, Master," K'saria responded reflexively, then left as quickly as she could.
She didn't disagree with Satele, not entirely. The whispers of the dark side had been growing ever louder of late, and it was likely that influence that had led her to make her proposal—she wouldn't consider it an assassination, not exactly. She would give her sister ample opportunity to surrender, fight back, act with honor.
That sort of thinking was not the Jedi way, but K'saria couldn't accept sitting by and doing nothing, which seemed to be the Grand Master's preferred course of "action." Now that she was officially confined to the Temple for the time being, however, she wasn't sure what she could do.
It was something to think about.
Fury-class starship Alecto
15 ATC
When the holoterminal went off in the middle of the ship's night cycle, A'tro was tempted to ignore it and go back to sleep. But if someone was calling her ship directly, it was probably important, so she crawled out of bed, wrapped herself up in a robe, and went out to the main room.
She ran a hand through her hair, trying to make it look like she hadn't just woken up, and answered the call. A moment later, the flickering blue holoimage of Darth Nox appeared above the projector.
A'tro blinked, wondering for a moment if she was in fact still asleep and having an odd dream. "Nox? Is that you?"
Nox chortled. "Of course it's me, my dear. Who would dare impersonate me?" More chortling.
A'tro stared, confusion and suspicion creeping through her fatigue. "It's been six months! Where the hell have you been?"
"Nar Shaddaa, darling," Nox said in a too-patient tone. "Looking for that blasted vault."
"And that kept you so busy you couldn't even send word back that you weren't dead? People were lining up to try to get your Council seats!"
"I assume you didn't let them."
"We argued about it for a while. The consensus was to give you time."
"How generous," Nox drawled. "I didn't miss anything exciting, did I?"
A'tro shrugged. "Not particularly. Ravage accidentally agreed with Marr about some strategy, which made him so angry he walked out of the meeting, but that was the most eventful occurrence."
"Typical." Nox's demeanor abruptly turned serious. "I didn't call you to gossip, though."
"No? Then by all means, get to the point so I can go back to sleep," A'tro grumbled.
"I won't go into details over holo, but…remember that thing we talked about before I left?"
A'tro frowned. "Probably?" One could never be too sure with Nox and her peculiar brand of logic.
"I've changed my mind," Nox said, smiling mysteriously. "My answer is now 'yes.'"
For a moment, A'tro thought she'd misheard. "You seemed rather certain before."
"Like I said," Nox murmured, "I've changed my mind."
"Well," A'tro said slowly, "That's good to hear, but why—"
"Ah, ah, ah, not over holo!" Nox waggled a finger disapprovingly. "We can discuss it later. I just wanted you to know."
"I appreciate it. I'm confused, but I appreciate it."
"Good." Nox beamed. "Well, I'd better get going. Toodles!"
Before A'tro could say anything, the transmission ended.
"What in the galaxy was that about?" she muttered.
She looked across the room and saw that Quinn had appeared in the bedroom doorway.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I think Nox just expressed her intention to support me against the Emperor."
Quinn appeared to think that over for a moment. "That seems like a positive to me."
"It does, but with Nox, I'm always a bit suspicious." A'tro sighed and moved away from the holoterminal. "There's nothing to do about it right now, anyway. I'm going back to bed." While I can still afford to spare the time.
End part two.
