Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Beginning of the End

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Devnos' life passed in a dream as he stepped back into the normal routine. Gaffil and his lackeys hadn't killed him, but Devnos was almost certain that death would have been preferable to this unknown menace.

There were whispers in his mind.

They had appeared after that terrifying, painful surgery; their voice was unfamiliar, but deadly. He couldn't decipher the words yet, but already he knew they weren't good.

Sleep – which had already been short in hours – had deserted him, and even Sanar, who hadn't been speaking to him for some time, had asked if he was alright. Her concern, though awkwardly hidden, had been genuine.

That had been the worst part of the entire adjustment period. Devnos' heart had wanted to throw his arms around his sister, and thank her for being yet uncorrupted. His more selfish wish had been to bawl into her shoulder, explain why he was doing the things he did, why he had adopted such a cold attitude to her. He had wanted her to understand – maybe even accept – his choice.

Instead, he had heard himself tell her, "Get back to your washing, niftyax." Then, through horrified eyes, he had watched his arms shoot out and throw her away from him.

Her gaze, startled, furious, defeated, lost, was permanently burned into his mind.

"F—fine, then," she had stammered in response, trying to regain her balance from the attack. "Who c—cares about—you—anyway?"

Sanar did. After thirteen years of him being the protective big brother, the one who read her beloved stories to her, she did.

That was when Devnos began to truly loathe himself.

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A throat was politely cleared, and Jaina pulled away from Zekk's embrace, bleary-eyed. Glancing up, she noticed that Zekk was also awake, and staring ahead. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she detangled herself, nearly falling off the couch in the process. Recognizing the man before her, however, sent adrenaline zooming back into her bloodstream the way no caffeine could.

Turning away (no news is good news), Jaina wryly asked Zekk, "How long have I been out?"

Zekk shrugged, recognizing her stalling technique. "An hour or two – just dozing. You should probably wake Sanar up. I'd do it, but I don't relish dying."

"Oh, and I'm expedient, is that it?" Jaina teased, still ignoring the man who had woken her.

"Nah, you're safe. She's got to have a thing about killing family, or Devnos would be dead by now."

Jaina's expression abruptly became stormy with knowledge and memories that weren't her own. "She has a thing for murder, period."

The darkness stayed on her face only a moment longer, and then she sighed. "Well, no time like the present," she admitted.

Zekk managed a smile. "How bad can it be?"

Jaina didn't deign that false optimism with a response. Standing, she crossed the room to Sanar's couch, shaking the woman's shoulder firmly. "The surgery's…over?" She checked with the surgeon, who nodded.

When she looked back, Sanar had startled awake, looking like she had had too much caffeine. "Well?" she demanded. "What is it? Is he alright?"

"He hasn't said yet," Jaina responded with a grimace.

"Oh…well, obviously," Sanar retorted scathingly, trying to hide her anxiety. "Why should he tell you?"

"I'm just a Solo," Jaina agreed, deadpanned.

Although sympathetic, Zekk broke into the bantering. "When you two are done avoiding the news…" He gestured to the surgeon.

"Right," both girls said at the same time, then turned startled, wry grins on the other.

"If I might…?" Surgeon Qov trailed off, swallowing, as if what he was about to tell the two women suddenly hit him.

"Hit us up," Jaina ordered wearily.

"Ah, yes, well – the good news is that we successfully retrieved the micro-chip." Qov forced a smile that was painful to watch. When his audience only stared at him, he continued. "However, there were…complications."

"Of course," Jaina commented, her voice flat. Sanar continued to stare, mouth agape.

"That is, the chip…reacted. Upon being removed from its place near Mr. Klis' brain, a part of it…overheated." Qov only just contained his wince.

"What…what's the damage?" Zekk asked quietly, heart unexpectedly sore. He didn't care for Devnos – he never had, even as Onyx – but the pain in both Jaina and Sanar's eyes was enough to strike him with uncommon force.

"We managed to move the chip away to spare most of Mr. Klis' higher brain functions – thought, memory, etc – but it…it did cause significant damage."

"'Significant damage'," Sanar repeated listlessly. "Larifx. Isn't that the way it always is?" Her head sunk into her hands dejectedly.

"I won't – bore you with details," Qov continued bravely. "But…"

Jaina glanced at Sanar, then back to Qov, narrowing her eyes. "How long?"

Zekk winced at the tone of her voice.

Qov slipped his fists into his coat pockets. "Well – that depends – on his stress levels, and how hard he pushes himself, and – "

"How. Long."

The surgeon swallowed. "If he stays unconscious…we can't guess. But once he wakes up – a few days." His words were greeted with silence. "A week, at most," he finished. "I'm very sorry."

"You're sorry?" Jaina seethed, spine erect in fury. "That's it? You screw up, and you get off on a weak apology? You're the best in your field here; you're paid billions – fix him!"

"I…I can't," Qov stammered. "The brain is so delicate – I would only make things worse, at this point."

In the face of Jaina's responding anger, Sanar was ignored for the moment.

It saved her from having to hide the stunned horror that played over her face.

Sanar remembered the agreement papers she had signed before the surgery.

Remembered how she had kept pushing for this – for the truth.

But had it all been so bad, not knowing? Had Devnos really needed that chip out of his head? Or was it just her, being selfish, looking for an explanation – any explanation – because she was still a stupid, naïve girl who worshipped her big brother, and didn't want to believe he could do anything wrong?

Oh, gods, Force, Mujir, Larifx…

I signed my brother's death warrant.

Sanar let Jaina be angry, argue Devnos' fate, fight the reality.

Sanar only had enough to strength to keep the tears from cascading down her face.

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"You had better take this," Jarran mused, taking his sword from its sheath.

Kyp stared at it, then finally, reluctantly, took it. "I suppose it's important," he agreed, but his sarcasm wasn't as confident as usual.

"Do not let anyone else brandish it," Jarran warned.

Grimly, Kyp smirked. "You don't have to tell me that."

"You might be tempted to give it up – the Sildar requires more than you can imagine," Jarran pressed. "But you are the only one who can carry it."

"I'm not going to give the handle to anyone," Kyp retorted. "The blade is the only part anyone will touch."

"The handle is as deadly as any part," Sanar's father reminded his replacement.

"Then what's the worry? I couldn't get rid of it if I wanted to."

"Others…" Jarran hesitated. "Allies may not believe you – they might try to take it from you."

Kyp swallowed. "If it comes to that – and I pray it won't – then I will stop them."

Jarran sighed, but did not enlighten the younger man. Everyone tried, but one man could only do so much. Eventually, there was always a sacrifice.

Sacrifice.

The word struck him to the core, and Jarran dared to say more than he had meant to. "Of all the people, Sanar can never know the Sildar's touch."

Kyp's grip on the Sildar tightened until his knuckles shone as white as the moonlight. "Her, of all people, I won't… I couldn't."

Jarran's shoulders slumped. How to say everything – how to prepare Kyp – without saying more than was allowed? "You will need her. The entire planet – the entire galaxy – could be against you, but if you have Sanar's aid – " and more, Jarran inserted silently, "you cannot lose."

Again, with that scent of secrecy. Kyp eyed Jarran with renewed suspicion. "You distracted me from my question before; what is Sanar's part in this? I am the only one who has a defined role – "

What a fool. Jarran pitied the man, although he could somewhat understand. "There are…many things…that you cannot see, Kyp," Jarran settled upon saying. "Everyone has their story." Jarran's mind drifted again and his next words were said unconsciously, sadly. "Sanar will be able to do what her mother was too weak to do."

"And what's that, dammit?" Kyp demanded. "Give me a straight answer!"

Because he had requested the complete truth and nothing but that, Jarran kept his silence.

Groaning in frustration – would he ever be able to get the entire truth from one of the Klis'? – Kyp stared at the Sildar, searching for a new question. Preferably one that would help him, but that Jarran would still answer. "Did the messenger ever know about you being the first one?"

Jarran's lips tipped up at the corners. "No. Devnos never knew."

So many secrets for one, simple thing, Jarran considered, weary.

He was getting tired of secrets…but what could he do? The Force demanded much of its children.

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Wake up.

Devnos fought the call. Parts of him hurt – from intrusion, from phantom pains, from past deeds – and he didn't want to face reality. Although he couldn't remember quite why he was sore (ignoring the reason was the key to escaping it), he didn't want to find out. He was quite certain it wouldn't be pleasant, and life loved screwing him over.

Wake up now!

No, he replied firmly. I am most definitely not waking up.

"You had better take this."

"I suppose it's important."

Devnos heard his own groan, and knew he would be awake very soon. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! Not fair!

No rest for the weary, the Strings chided.

He sighed. It's 'no rest for the wicked'.

Oh, that doesn't apply to you, they chorused. Not entirely. But it's time to wake up.

"Don't make me," he pleaded in half a voice.

He had made the mistake of trusting their sympathy. When next he heard the Strings' voice, it was a caustic roar. WAKE UP! Don't you humans love your shining moment? Here comes yours, you lunkhead. You've played around with enough; it's time for you to give up your petty attempts to stop what is coming.

"For something that once cared about Sanar," he muttered, opening his eyes through his exhaustion, "you have no compassion."

The Strings did not reply; Devnos hadn't expected them to. Besides, he had heard all their excuses – they had given their precious Sanar her hero-love; humans were so resistant to a normal chain reaction; Devnos didn't deserve compassion when he had tried to sabotage their plans.

He'd heard everything – even said them to himself. And he was sick of it all. Sick of the truth.

I'll never be able to change a thing.

A second later, Devnos understood why the Strings had woken him: he had come to the last stretch of his pathetic life.

But he was free of IT.

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Please R&R :)

.Tjz