Star Wars: The Dark Empire
Episode 2 - Jenesis
Part 5 - Why We Fight
Alderaan, Jedi Academy
It was shortly after dawn, and Marka and Kaya were standing outside the academy, observing the last of the students being loaded into a Y-wing shuttle. Marka had his arms around his wife's body, his hands scandalously placed on her breasts. It hardly mattered, there were few left in the academy to see them, and most were too preoccupied in last-minute checks before they left to notice. The students and trainers were being transported to different locations, where smaller; better concealed academies were being prepared. It was unfortunate, but the academy had just been too visible, and would likely have attracted the attention of Korgul and his assassins soon.
Marka turned his face away as a blast of air from the transport shuttle's take-off swept his wife's hair into his face, annoyingly close to his eyes. The shuttle, soon hovering a hundred meters above them, ignited its main engines and blasted out of sight. Marka raised his hand, silently wishing them a safe journey. They would be going to Kashyyyk, where the wookies had offered to give them a hand helping them set up their new academy. Their chances of being found there were almost negligent, and they would have the added advantage of Kashyyk's harsh environment and dangerous creatures to hone their combat skills, while having sanctuary in the treetops.
"Do you wonder how our actions effect the future?" said Kaya suddenly, cutting like a knife through his thoughts.
Marka blinked, the statement had taken him totally by surprise. He knew Kaya well enough to tell that she was in a strange mood, if her stance and movement were not enough, their bond confirmed it. She was wretched, and yet utterly focused and determined. He could have put down her emotions as sadness at his leaving again, and determination not to overreact. But was definitely something wrong there, she was trying too hard to hide her obvious anxiety. He knew that she was also worried about what might happen if he fought Jezebel or Korgul, but this was going too far.
"Where is this coming from?" he asked, referring both to her statement and her emotional turmoil.
"Forget it," she said, moving out of his embrace.
Marka took her firmly by the shoulders and pulled her around, so that she was facing him. "I'm no fool, Kaya, something's up. Have you had more visions?"
During the Rescue of O'Dus, Kaya had had a short series of visions, which had allowed her to know exactly the moment when she had been about to be released. She had also known that she would be needed at Marka's side when he was confronted by his old Master, her presence there had saved life. She had saved him again by finding bringing Ramon and Mical to his aid a short while later, instants before he would have been killed. Since then she'd had a few minor visions, but with the galaxy becoming a far more dangerous place recently it was more likely she would be having them, since they all seemed to be brought about by impending peril to herself or him. She'd had a few visions related to other people.
"No," she said firmly, but would not meet his blue eyes. She brushed away his hands and walked off, leaving him wondering if he should run after her, or if she would just get angry or emotional then. He suspected she was lying though.
At that point, he saw Laman O'del standing with a single bag of belongings, waiting for his transport. Seeing Laman reminded him of something he had discovered last night. Deciding that it was more important than pressing Kaya for the truth, Marka walked up to him quickly. "Jezebel is the 'consumed one'," he blurted out. His last conversation with Never last night had given him certainty about that.
Laman frowned thoughtfully "Are you're sure about this?"
Marka inclined his head.
"Then stay away from her!"
"I can't do that," said Marka, "I know that the prophecy implies that she will kill me, but I made a promise that I would deal with her."
"Its your funeral," said Laman logically, "But before you throw your life away, think of all those who are counting on you. The Jedi order is relying on you, and the whole Republic on the Jedi. Trillions, Marka, trillions. And think of your wife, and daughter."
"That is precisely why I must end her," said Marka heatedly. "Will we stand any chance if she joins with the enemy? As things stand, we will be needing endless miracles to face the Empire, if she continues to damage the Republic in her mad rampage to find Never -Revan- we may as well surrender right now. And if it isn't me, someone else will ultimately have to face her. Do you really think that anybody else will stand a chance if I don't?"
He was raving, he knew. It wasn't like him to act irrationally, but he was incredibly stressed at the moment with both Korgul and Jezebel to worry about, as well as the knowledge that the Sith empire was nearly ready for its invasion. There was something else as well, a threat that he had not discerned yet, but its presence lingered on the edge of his senses.
"It doesn't have to be you who dies," Laman sighed, "Just think about it, promise me that you'll think on it."
"I'll think on it," Marka promised half-heartedly.
He didn't wholly believe in the Grey's prophecy, but he'd be a fool to discard it out of hand because he didn't like what it said. The other man's words though had made a suitable impression on him that he decided not to specifically go after Jezebel, and even to avoid a confrontation with her if he could. But if other Jedi's lives were in direct danger from her, he would not hesitate.
"I never took you for the suicidal type," Laman muttered, "Ah, there's my ship." The small craft was landing on the platform.
Marka shook his hand and wished him well before Laman and three others boarded the vessel. They were going to Talus, where a small academy would be situated. He then looked around for Kaya, but couldn't see her. Bastila was sitting a bit further away, with a small boy he supposed was her and Never's son. Kaya had mentioned to him before that the boy had been staying with a family on Alderaan, she had apparently visited him a few times. Marka though had never seen him before.
"'Morning," said Bastila, standing when he reached her, looking intently at him for a few seconds. Then she seemed to remember herself and said, "Have you met my son Lehon?"
"No," said Marka, wondering what that look had been for. He hadn't met her in the flesh for about three months, perhaps that was it. He bent down to the boy's level, "Hello, Lehon."
"Are you my dad?" the boy blurted out.
Lehon Oneiro was a five year old who looked a lot like his mother, with big blue eyes and a lean face, but Marka could also see his father in him. He did not seem remarkable physically, but Marka could sense the vast Force-potential in him, possibly enough that he would be able to top even his father when he grew older. He was staring at Marka with a serious expression on his face.
"He's your uncle Marka," Bastila laughed, "You know, Auntie Kaya's husband."
Marka was surprised, he had never heard Bastila admitting to her relation to Kaya before. He knew the story, how Bastila's father had had an affair with Kaya's mother, Kaya being the result. Bastila hadn't acknowledged her as her sister, because admitting that would have been admitting to her father's infidelity, and she had loved her father. It seemed though that they were finally getting over their differences. They weren't actually all that different, and under different circumstances Marka was sure they could have got along well.
"Auntie Kaya comes to visit sometimes," said Lehon gleefully. "She brings me treats."
"That's because Auntie Kaya is a kind and generous person," said Bastila, ruffling her son's hair fondly.
Marka took a sharp breath, that was the first time he had heard Bastila say anything nice about his wife. He suspected that it may have been said only for his benefit, or for the boys. Perhaps Bastila simply did not want to impart her prejudices onto her son, especially since if she were killed Kaya would likely be adopting him.
"She is," the boy agreed, then added critically, "She was fat, but now she's thin."
"She had a baby, remember, I told you!" Bastila admonished him.
"I forgot," said Lehon sheepishly. He looked up at Marka, "Do those hurt?"
Marka absently touched the scars on the left side of his face, "Not any more."
"I'm sorry," Bastila apologised for her son.
Marka's eyes softened, "Perfectly alright," he said, and gave a small smile to the boy, who giggled.
Marka then felt Kaya's approach and turned to her, and was surprised by a sudden kiss. Surprised, but pleased.
"Braveheart," she said, breaking off his lips, "Could you watch Lehon a moment, I need to talk to Bastila."
Marka nodded, wondering what Kaya possibly had to say to her half-sister. Probably something along the lines of 'look after him'. He certainly didn't need anybody watching out for him, still it was nice to know that she cared. Mentally he shrugged, he had married her and thereby given her the right to fuss over him. He would have asked Kaya's best friend Banali to do the same thing, but he knew she would do so anyway.
Kaya led Bastila further away, out of earshot. Marka watched them go, noticing again their similarities and differences. The differences were enough that he could only see the family resemblance knowing that they were related. Their faces were a similar shape, and they were of similar build; except that Bastila was a shade taller. They shared similar-coloured eyes, although Bastila's were a more crystalline blue while Kaya's were darker. Their biggest differences were in their hair and complexion. Kaya was mildly tanned, with reddish-brown hair that curled at the base. Bastila was pale, with straight dark hair. They were both beautiful, yet different. Marka though knew who he preferred.
"Hey, aren't you supposed to be watching me?" said Lehon, tugging on Marka's cloak.
Marka smiled, turning his attention to the boy. "So I was." He picked up the boy under the shoulders and hoisted him over his neck. Lehon laughed with delight. "Like to go for a walk?"
"I'm the king, I'm so very very high, in the sky!" cried the boy jubilantly. Marka felt a surge of affection for the child that was so strong it was almost painful. Sadness took hold as well as he realised that he would probably never be able to have a son of his own to hold, it just wouldn't be safe to have another child now for Kaya, she would be too vulnerable pregnant. Only if the Empire was defeated would they be able to.
He now had another reason to win.
--
"I'll miss you," Kaya whispered as she hugged her husband and kissed him one last time.
He smiled indulgently, "I'll be alright, Tenderheart, stop worrying," he told her, "In a few months, I'll be back." His voice lowered so that only she could hear, "And I'll have learned even more tricks to please you." There was an intensity in his eyes that he usually saved for when they were alone. With those parting words, he boarded the O-wing scout, turning back to give her one last smile as he disappeared from view. There was a procession of padawans as Marka's two and Bastila's five followed him.
Bastila was the last to board, she gave her son one final hug. Kaya could clearly see the grief in the other woman's eyes at being torn away from her child, she'd only had the morning with him. Sadness engulfed Kaya, it was the price they all had to play for their role in the Republic's defense; family came second. Perhaps this was why the Jedi had ended up forbidding marriages, leaving their beloved children behind to go and fight the Republic's battles -not knowing if they would return- hurt too much. But it was not a pain that would turn one to the dark side, completely opposite. It was a yearning to see them again and protect their futures that would drive them to far greater feats than they ever might have otherwise, to reach the unreachable, to overcome that which was impossible to overcome. It was this love, and the pain that was its price, that held the Republic's only hope.
Bastila was boarding the vessel when she met Kaya's gaze, and nodded once. Kaya sighed, they had finally come to terms with each other, putting the past behind them. But even if they could have been friends, the path Kaya had set them all on would undoubtedly create a rift between them. The next time they would meet would be many months from now in the Senate; by that time they would have… She shook her head, it was useless to dwell on it. It would happen, she had accepted it. She couldn't help but hope against hope that it wouldn't. But then, if the future did not turn out that way, they would all almost certainly die. Kaya felt like crying.
With a roar, the O-wing's boosters ignited, and it flew straight up. After a few seconds, the craft tilted so that it was facing upwards, and its main engines flared. In seconds it was a speck, then it was gone.
Kaya blinked the tears out of her eyes as she turned to Banali. The two of them and Lehon were the only ones left in the academy. There was a fighter waiting to take the two women, but first they would be taking the boy back to his foster family; and Belaya to her wet nurse. Kaya felt criminal leaving her daughter, who was just over a week old, with another woman. But she didn't have any choice.
"Are you ready?" asked Banali.
"Y-Yes," Kaya replied. She hardened her heart as she focused her mind. She couldn't make any mistakes, not now; not ever. "I am ready."
--
O-wing, Mid-rim space
"This is going to be a bit of a squeeze," said Cora, "There are nine of us, and three rooms that can only take two each."
They had been travelling in the hyperspace for a few hours now, and had just started getting settled. The O-wing was meant to be able to accommodate ten, or even twelve at a push. But that involved those inside sleeping in shifts, since there was only enough beds for half the crew. And just because it was designed to hold that many, it did not mean that they were meant to be comfortable.
"Bastila and I will be taking the forward-starboard room," said Marka.
A few of Bastila's students were obviously getting the wrong idea, judging by their facial expressions, so he explained further.
"That room is the only one where the beds fold into the wall, hence there will be at least some space to train." Not enough, but it was the best they could do under the circumstances. "A good portion of the time we aren't sleeping we will be training, and even if Bastila is taking her meditation class I will be training Lydale, Cora or myself in there. It would be impossible for anyone else to share that room."
"Then it's the four boys in the one room and three girls in the other," said Cora, "Easy enough."
"Aah, Marka," Bastila muttered under her breath to him, "Do you really think it's a good idea for us to share a room?"
Marka couldn't see a problem with it, they were both married and he was devoted to his wife, there was no way he would try anything with her. Not that she would let him even if he wanted to, he was sure. Bastila's eyes were worried though.
He attempted a smile, "I'm not that irresistible," he said. But as he turned away, he frowned. Since when did he joke around, especially in that way, with anybody but Kaya?
His thoughts were interrupted by the intercom. "M-Mm-Ma-aa-ar-rr" wavered Lydale's voice, and it was all Marka needed to hear.
With a possibly urgent situation on their hands he needed Bastila to come with him, but time spent explaining could be fatal, so he didn't start. He simply grabbed her hand and led her firmly to the cockpit, ignoring her attempts to pull back and demand an explanation. Cora was following close behind, she knew by now that Lydale's stammering was only induced by shock or stress.
They reached the cockpit, as expected Lydale was waiting for them in the pilots seat with his eyes wide and cheek muscles twitching as though they were going into spasms. Marka had seen the level's of his panic-attacks before, and knew immediately that this one was bad.
"What's happened," "What is it?" Marka and Cora exclaimed together.
"What do you think you are doing?" Bastila shouted at Marka. He ignored her.
"Ta-Ta-Ta-Telos," Lydale stammered, pointing to a distress signal that was flashing across the screen. "Ka-Ka-Ka…"
"Set a course for the Telosian polar academies," Marka ordered, "We're going to save those people."
"Korgul?" said Cora.
Lydale nodded, unable to get the words out of his throat. Marka sighed, there had obviously been an attack. He knew that they should have moved that academy as well, but most on the council had felt that it was hidden and unknown, so moving it would be unnecessary, and he had gone along with that. In hindsight, it should have been moved. But then hindsight was always perfect sight.
"Send an order from me to all Jedi who are currently going to help that they cannot, and must not. The only ones who I will allow to get involved are those who were once true Sith, and only at my discretion. No-one is to attempt any sort of attack until I get there, that includes the army and fleets."
"How dare you," yelled Bastila, her face flushed with anger. She was obviously cross with being dragged into the cockpit. "I am the Jedi Grandmaster, I'm in charge and this is my decision to make. I say we bring in every single Jedi that we can muster, attack as soon as we are able, so we can crush these assassins once and for all."
With that, Marka grabbed her firmly and started silently ushering her out of the room. Bastila started shouting louder, and resisting his pushing. Marka responded by hoisting her over his shoulder, which only served to make her furious. She started trying to physically damage him in any way she could, tooth; fist and nail, while calling him all sorts of interesting names. Marka ignored the looks he got from Bastila's shocked padawans, carried her into the room that they would be sharing, and closed the door firmly before setting her down.
"You, you, you OAF," she accused him, "Mical was right about you! I can't believe I ever…"
She trailed off, her expression no longer angry as much as guarded, leaving Marka wondering what she had been about to say. And what had Mical said about him? Regardless, it was time to establish who was the top-dog before it became an issue.
"When you decided to come with me to inspect the academies, you knew full well that it was my operation and you would be merely tagging along," he told her, healing his minor bruises and scratches while he talked.
"This is an entirely different matter," she hissed. "This has got nothing to do with the inspection. It is irrelevant that…"
"Astin is doing your duties on Coruscant," Marka cut in.
"Yes, but…"
"So your position has been suspended."
"I'm still the Grandmaster!" she all but shrieked.
Marka shook his head, "Even if you were, you have absolutely no knowledge of what you're up against. A rash decision like that could cost hundreds of Jedi's lives."
"They're assassins," said Bastila stubbornly, "If we outnumber them, and fight them in an open field, we would easily overwhelm them."
"You've never fought against the Force-dead before, have you?" said Marka shrewdly.
He summoned a nearby long training staff to his hand when she didn't reply, and swung it at her head. Bastila ducked out of the way easily, and summoned the other staff to her hands when he gestured for her to do so. They traded a few light blows in Shii-cho form.
"You use the Force to predict what will happen, before it does," Marka told her as they clashed weapons. "The Force is a Jedi's strength, your premonition sense means that it would be almost impossible for a non-Force user to beat you. Even if you were to put on a blindfold it would make little difference. However, what happens when that sense is taken away?"
With that, Marka focused himself and created an intricate weave of Force, one that would disable any premonition sense within an area; Bastila being the epicentre of that area. It was large enough that his own sense was also negated, but he had trained to be able to fight without relying on it. His first blow she blocked, but his recoil blow swept the feet out from under her. She rolled to her feet, and rushed at him, but was not fast enough to block his unexpected stab; which sent her bowling over; clutching her chest.
Marka threw his weapon aside, let the weave dissipate, and knelt down beside her. "You cannot sense a Force-dead's actions before they happen. If you had your lightsaber and they a blaster-pistol, unless you were incredibly lucky, they would slaughter you. It would be the same result as non-Jedi using those same weapons, you simply would not be able to predict their shots to block them. And you cannot use the Force on them either, it fades on contact, so there goes your other advantage.
"A Jedi is worse off than a normal person facing them, because they rely on the Force so much, and their fighting style reflects it. Its even worse for one such as you, because you are so much more powerful in the Force than other Jedi you will tend to rely on it even more than others. Most of the Jedi, except perhaps those who served recently in the army," he said, thinking of Cora, "Would be at a loss for what to do, and would be slaughtered."
"Then how?" Bastila wheezed, sitting on the floor. "How can you fight them." She was using the Force to heal herself before she bruised.
"There is a special school of training to be able to fight against those who are Force-dead, and still be able to use the Force to your advantage. That takes months of intensive training to learn, and honestly there is little that can be done. Even most of the true Sith don't bother, only the most powerful or those with special reasons to; do.
"We know nothing of the force we face," he continued, pressing the point home. "It could be just the assassins, but my guess is that they have support. Phantoms never lead an assault, they always hide amongst the ordinary soldiers in battle or snipe, ready to strike down Force-sensitive opponents. Going into battle against a unknown enemy is a very good way to die, Bastila. Didn't you lead armies with your Battle Meditation? I'd have thought you'd have know that."
"Help me up," said Bastila, and Marka took both of her hands and pulled her up. As she came up, Marka could have swore that there was a blush on her cheeks.
"I…spoke out of turn," she began, her face down. "About something I had no knowledge about. I…apologise."
Marka raised her chin with his hand, she was definitely blushing. "And I am sorry if I treated you roughly," he said. "It was the only way I could think of to get my point across."
"I've had worse," she said softly, feeling her chest and wincing. "I probably deserved that for getting so angry."
"It's part of being human, and your humanity is what makes a good Grandmaster," said Marka, feeling that she would probably be needing a compliment at this time. Women, he had found, did even more than men. Especially after being made to feel foolish.
"Thanks; but; err," said Bastila, obviously hinting at something.
Marka then realised then that his hand was still under her chin. He snatched it away a trifle too fast, feeling awkward. A short, uncomfortable silence stretched out between them until Bastila extended her hand.
"Friends?"
Marka did not know if he'd ever had a friend in his life before. His relationships all seemed different to that very simple word. His wife he loved, and he supposed friendship was a part of their relationship, but it went far deeper than that. He had felt the same way about his father, when he'd still been alive. He mentored his two padawans, but that was different. Ramon and him had a mutual respect for each other, but it had never progressed further than that. He felt much the same way about Never, Bastila's husband.
"Agreed," said Marka, taking her hand. He didn't know where this new experience would take him, but he was prepared to find out.
--
Telos, Polar academy
The attack had come before dawn.
The guards monitoring the perimeter and guarding the entrances had been killed quickly and silently by the terribly efficient assassins. Then the main army had arrived. They would have made it deep into the compound if Master Yarin had not been taking a stroll at that time, and sounded the alarm. Doing that though had brought all the assassins down on him, he had lasted less than a minute. But his sacrifice had not been in vain, the majority of the students and trainers had been able to evacuate deeper into the mountain, where thick Durasteel doors and multiple traps separated them from their attackers. They had still lost about fifty during all the confusion.
Orrin Ithker stood shivering, not so much because of the chill in the air, but from shock. One moment he had been sleeping peacefully, the next a massive warning siren was rousing him. He had hastily dressed, and ran. His group had run into a forward assault force, and had been forced to fight. The Jedi in the group had been able to cut through the enemy, fortunately there hadn't seemed to be any of the assassins amongst them. Orrin had taken a blaster from one of his fallen foes during the chaos and shot two, by the way they had fallen he was certain he'd killed them. But with so many of them unarmed, inevitably they had taken serious losses. When the enemy had been routed, Orrin's group had all run down to the safety of the deep tunnels. Now he was deeper underground than he had ever been, huddling in a confined space with hundreds of others. Ominous sounds from overhead suggested that the enemy were tunnelling down.
"Who are they?" somebody wailed in despair.
Some of the trapped Jedi and apprentices were getting ready to fight, if need be. Some were meditating, or trying to. Others were staring blankly with shock at the horror of the attack, or crying. Orrin was suffering from shock of a different kind. He had killed. For the first time in his life, he had taken a weapon and extinguished the life in another. It hadn't been some combat-simulator, it had been real. His body seemed unnaturally numb.
"They are the phantoms," replied a cool voice Orrin recognised as Master Brianna's. "They seek to eradicate the Jedi order, we are merely the first they came after. We should have evacuated this academy at the same time as the others."
"The ones I saw were definitely not Force-dead," another argued, "There were hundreds of them. And a lot of them weren't even human. No true Sith force would possibly include non-humans, none of them live in the Empire." Judging from his speech, Orrin reckoned that he was probably one of the ex-Sith trainers.
"True," said Brianna. "My guess is that they hired a large force of mercenaries to compliment their numbers, there's plenty enough of them floating in the Republic. The assassins will be hiding among the mass, ready to strike down any Jedi who fight back, while not presenting an obvious target at the same time. That's how I'd do it."
A thought struck Orrin just as feeling returned to his hands, "Master, what if the aim of this attack wasn't to kill us. What if they're just trying to draw the rest of the Jedi into one massive trap."
Brianna sighed, "It has occurred to me, this region would certainly be one of the best places to execute such a trap, but there is nothing that we can do even if that is the case. All our communications have been cut, and we cannot get out. All we can do is hope."
The grinding, churning, tunnelling sound was growing ever louder.
--
Telos, Fleet HQ
Carth Onasi stumbled into his office and sat heavily on his firm, comfortable chair; sighing with relief. It had been a hard day at work, he had been promoting literally hundreds of officers that day in one huge ceremony. With the Republic's fleets growing at such a rate, and his presence as grand admiral required, a massed promotion ceremony had become a necessity every two months or so. He really needed to change the regulations to allow lower level officers to do the promoting, for Sith's sake they were the ones who chose the candidates anyways.
Tapping on a button on the intercom system controller on his desk, he said, "Bring me a strong caffa please, Celest."
"You have a visitor, should I send him in?" his PA replied.
"Who is it?"
"Your son."
Carth immediately sat up straight. Dustil had been based at the other side of the planet, but hadn't been to visit in over three months. "Send him in, and get him a weak caffa with one sweetener."
Dustil came striding in, and Carth stood to greet him. His son looked a bit better than when he had last seen him, at least he didn't bear a resemblance to a corpse. His look was not so much haunted now as driven, the dark rings under his eyes suggested that he still wasn't sleeping properly. His movements were crisp and controlled, speaking of readiness and potential violence. The hardness in his dark eyes was scary.
"Father," said Dustil shortly, as though he were greeting a stranger.
"Dustil," said Carth, itching to hug him or at least shake his hand, but feared being rejected. "I'm glad you came."
"I had to come here to catch my transport, less chance to be followed, if you catch my drift."
Dustil had been training in the polar regions, and with few craft heading out from there into space they could easily be followed. In the city centre of course there would be far more traffic. Carth knew a little about the plan to train students in an unspecified location, but he was unsure as to the details and knew nothing of where it would be. He had only been briefed because Dustil was going. What made it different to all the other hidden academies he did not know, but he did know that there was far more secrecy going into this one than any of the others.
"Sit; sit," said Carth, moving to his own seat. "I'm glad you made it out before the attack," He had been hearing reports about the Telos academy being assaulted by a large hostile force.
"So am I, it happened hours after I left."
"I'm sending a relief force, I know it includes some Jedi, perhaps you…"
"I asked already, I was forbidden." The silence grew between them.
"Aah, caffa." Carth said as his PA came in, breaking the deadlock. He took one of the steaming mugs. "So you took the time to see your old man, eh?"
"Thank you," said Dustil as he took his own mug. "It wasn't my idea to come."
Carth's eyebrows shot up as he took a sip. Lowing his mug, he swallowed and said, "Then whose was it?"
"Master Ramon's," Dustil replied, "We'll be unlikely to have contact with the outside world for perhaps a year, so we were ordered to meet with whatever family we have before we leave."
"You were ordered?"
"In my case, yes. I think Master Brianna had a hand in that."
Carth could see what was happening. It was obvious to anyone that met him that Dustil was firmly footed in the dark side, consumed with grief as he was with his wife's death. He was without doubt a Dark Jedi. His rage was directed at the Sith, so he was unlikely to betray the Jedi, but still his conduct couldn't just be conveniently ignored. The Jedi were obviously hoping that some words of fatherly advice would at least make a small difference to him.
Not very likely, he thought, but I can try. Even if I don't owe the Jedi that much, I do owe it to my son.
"Look, Dustil, about Mira…"
"I know how this goes, father," Dustil cut him off angrily, "You tell me how I can't stop holding onto the past, and then compare it to what happened between you and mom. Then you give me some sagely advice about how I can't keep all the pain bottled up inside me, I cry on your shoulder and walk away a changed man; that sound about right?"
"Dustil, don't shut me out, you're my only son and I…"
"You know what, I don't care." he said venomously, "I don't care anymore. The only time when I will care is when I find a Sith, and kill it. Maybe when I kill that tall Sith with the red-streaked hair it'll be over, but until then," Dustil set his untouched mug down and made his way to the door. "Goodbye. Thanks for the caffa."
Carth watched him go, not quite believing his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it as the door sealed behind his son.
"May the Force bless you, keep you and guide you. Make its light to shine to upon you, for now, forever," Carth whispered the ancient prayer. Somehow 'May the Force be with you,' did not seem good enough. For the first time in his life, Carth Onasi truly felt old.
--
Telos orbit, Republic Command Ship the 'Indaba'
Marka strode from the ships docking bay towards the command deck, flanked by Bastila and Cora. Bastila's padawans and Lydale had stayed aboard the O-wing, it would not do for all of them to crowd on board. Besides, it was most of their sleeping shift. Later they would be able to get a good meal on the command ship, even if the food wasn't better a change of company would probably do them good after two days cooped up together.
Marka's face was the very image of deadliness and chilled focus, all the soldiers that saw him passing moved hurriedly out of their way, whispering to each other in hushed voices. Marka already had a reputation in the Republic, especially amongst the military. They all knew that he was probably the most powerful Jedi, but had until recently had been a high-ranking Sith. So they treated him like a highly intelligent rancor, carefully; and stayed as far away as they could. That was fine by Marka, he hardly wanted them crowding around him, and a certain fear and awe was always useful to cultivate among the majority of your followers; except of course those closest to you.
It was those sorts of emotions that he now had to install onto whoever was the admiral in command of this venture. He certainly hoped it wasn't Onasi. Marka would need to be able to assume at least partial control of all forces if they were to succeed without taking serious damage.
From the reports that he had received, the academies residents were still alive, and slowly moving deeper into the mountains tunnels. But they couldn't possibly last more than a day at the rate they were going, they were running out of space to retreat. The tunnels only went so deep. They had to act now, and Marka had to make this admiral see sense.
He was certain that this attack was a trap. The Telos polar regions were largely untouched, and it would have been possible to land - and conceal - nearly any number of troops and equipment. But he was uncertain as to the size and quality of the forces Korgul had with him, or where they came from. He knew that hundreds had invaded the academy, which suggested that they had even more in reserve, probably they had already set up a defensive perimeter. But he couldn't discount the possibility of them having air support as well.
The three of them reached the command deck, everyone there immediately stood to attention. Cora looked surprised, but Bastila and Marka hardly took notice. They were both more concerned with the Admiral, who was turning to them. Marka relaxed when he saw who it was, and Bastila smiled. It was Lorn.
Lorn was a middle-aged man with slightly grizzled hair. He had been a captain in the Empire, serving under Marka's old Master. But when the Rebellion had begun and his family had been caught in the crossfire, he had begun giving information to the rebels. His family had been killed, and Lorn had been found out. He had escaped, with Lia's help, and sought asylum with Marka. Since then he had proven his worth many times over, and risen to Admiralty in the Republic ranks.
The Admiral smiled as he walked towards them. "Marka, its been a while, hasn't it." he said, smiling broadly. "I've been hearing such stories about you, one would think you're the Republic's greatest celebrity. Bastila, good to see you again." He gave a quizzing look at Cora.
"This is Cora, one of my padawans," Marka introduced her. "I heard that you'd been promoted recently, well done. I am please I am working with you."
"WE are working with you," Bastila growled under her breath.
"We are working with you," Marka amended.
Lorn nodded, "I'm sorry you missed my wedding, I wanted you as my best man."
"I know," Marka sighed, the two of them had been through a lot together and he regretted missing the happy occasion. "I would have liked to have been there, but there never seems to be any time that I'm not needed. I've spent a total two weeks and three days with my wife over the last six months, and all of those times were because I was on Alderaan anyway, I just extended the time I was to be there slightly. How is Lia anyway?"
"Pregnant," said Lorn proudly, "and promoted. She's been made captain of the 'Jaeger', my old ship, but that was largely because there was no one else besides me who knew the ship well enough to captain it." He sighed and added, "The grand admiral was not impressed, on both accounts."
"Has Carth been on your case again?" Bastila demanded.
Lorn nodded, grimacing.
"I'll talk to him," she promised, "he'll listen to me."
"I'd appreciate it."
For some reason, Grand Admiral Onasi had a personal vendetta against Lorn, nobody was quite sure why. But it was obvious that he had been contending for Lia's affections, and was bitter about her choosing Lorn over him. Even still, Carth was basically a rational man, it was unlike him to harbour such bitterness over just jealousy, there was probably something else bothering him. Marka could even have liked him, but for him and Lorn being at odds. And he went further back with Lorn.
Lorn had moved to the large 3-D map of the planet and its orbit, just behind the bridge. "I have six thousand ships in orbit, twenty-three thousand troops on the surface with two thousand assorted mech's," he gestured at the various points where they were stationed, "There's also eight hundred commandoes, ready to deploy at any time at any part of the battlefield; quite a force in all. I'm worried about this attack though, it seems too easy, trapping the assassin's in the mountain. I think they intend to trap us."
"As do I," Marka agreed, "We'll have to proceed with caution. And I don't think any Jedi should take part in the initial assault. There is a good chance that there will be phantom's hiding among the main force, or hiding in sniping positions, waiting to pick off unsuspecting Jedi."
"The Jedi will have to take part," Lorn cautioned, "This could well be perceived the first battle in the Republic against the Sith Empire, even if it isn't really, and it will attract a lot of publicity. If the Jedi are seen as cowards, those feelings will filter through to the senate. You will lose your influence there, and more importantly; your funding. Then you will truly be in trouble."
Marka made a noise that was halfway between a growl and a sigh. He hated having to wade through murky politics. "Then I shall lead the initial assault, and I'll allow the Jedi with the appropriate training to take part in the next waves. There won't be many of us, but at least we'll be visible."
"Are you mad?" Bastila yelled, "Have you got a death wish? All the phantom's will be wanting to get you, and there's a good chance Korgul is there. He kills Sith Masters, you stand no better chance then they did. And all of them are dead!"
"I am currently the most famous Jedi, except possibly for you, Bastila."
He wasn't being arrogant. Ever since he had arrived in the Republic, holo-net had been playing the story of him and Kaya; and how they had turned an entire Sith academy to the light side of the Force, finally escaping the wrath of the Empire. It had made all involved into instant celebrities, Marka being the leader had received the most attention.
"The fact that I am taking part would probably make the public overlook the fact that so few Jedi are involved," he continued, "I am also the best trained for this sort-of venture. The prophecy said that I'd stand against the consumed one, I can't do that if I die today. So if its true, I must survive."
"What prophecy?" said Bastila suspiciously. Lorn and Cora also gave him confused looks.
"I'll explain some other time. Do you have a private room where I can contact someone on a secure line?"
"Kaya? No problem, second door on the right," said Lorn.
Actually Marka intended to contact Never, but didn't want Bastila to know about it. Both of them had agreed that knowledge of their contact had to be kept from her until Never was ready to return to her, otherwise it would simply put her under unnecessary emotional strain. Never received his call, he was already on his way, and the two spoke at length for a few minutes.
"Lorn, do you have a battle plan?" said Marka when he returned to the bridge.
"Yes," said the other man, "Its all explained here."
Marka looked over it, "Impressive," he concluded, "Is everybody ready?"
"We can begin immediately."
"Then let it begin."
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A/N: That is IT. NO MORE FLUFF except to lead to action scenes and provide a break from them. I think I've done enough character, scene and relationship building. Seriously, it was beginning to drive me nuts. Star Wars has to have action, the way I see it. Now we finally get to see the Republic in action.