Inevitably, while writing a novel, there are a few scenes that demand to be written but...don't quite fit with the actual novel, or aren't long enough for a chapter. Ta da: this part. It's also the second post today, so if you haven't read Chapter Sixteen, click back ;)
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Interlude: Let Me Go
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And no matter how hard I try
I can't escape these things inside
I know, I know
But all the pieces fall apart
You will be the only one who knows, who knows
You love me but you don't know who I am
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you don't know who I am
So let me go, just let me go
-"Let Me Go" by 3 Doors Down
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After kicking the ground furiously, Sanar landed on her sleeping pad. It had been yet another long day. Another day of watching Clayra fawn over Gantik, and glare mistrustfully at Sanar. Another day of avoiding Durron, and putting off talking to him about her little confession over the campfire.
When Sanar didn't know what to do, or what she was feeling, she tended to get ticked off. Actually, that was her reaction to pretty much anything she didn't like—get good and angry, and take it out on everyone around her. She had found the method pretty handy, her life considering.
In this scenario, unfortunately, she had no idea who she was supposed to be most mad at.
Was it Gantik, for being a contemptible, backstabbing warftha?
Durron, for being the Kavishka—her hero—and for being from her story—the one she fell in love with—and for being…well, irritating in the way only Durron could be?
Jaina, for getting her involved in the hero lifestyle, even though she wasn't a hero?
Cerasy, for staying at "the Whilem's" estate, and letting Clayra come?
Or Cl—
No, she couldn't be mad at Clayra. She couldn't. Could she? Clayra was her little sister; Sanar had to protect her, no matter what. And she did. That was how it had always been, how it should be…
Whatcha up to?
Sanar jumped. She actually looked around for a second before turning inward. Stangit, Solo. But she couldn't help some of the relief/warmth she felt. How many times have I told you—
Not to do this? Jaina seemed to sigh. About a million. But I needed to get you to stop your steaming before you did something you'd regret.
I don't regret anything, Sanar snapped moodily.
Whatever you say.
Frowning, Sanar reached out to her sister through their link. Jaina? What's wrong?
Another sigh, but this time followed by a wry chuckle. Oh, nothing, I'm sure. I'm just… Again, deep sigh.
Now, Sanar was getting worried. Nothing, Larifx. She would have pushed it, despite the hypocrisy of her getting someone to spill emotionally. However, there was something in Jaina's voice… How did Zekk's trial go?
Oh, it—it went well. Better than expected, even. Jaina's mood lifted some, reassuringly. The jury took into consideration everything he did with the war, so he isn't in jail, or de— Well, you know.
Sanar's eyebrow rose, but she sent Jaina a happy nudge. So, he's off scott-free?
Not…exactly. Annoyance. "Despite the defendant's role in the downfall of his Empire, the crimes he committed cannot be overlooked." Jaina snorted derisively. "The crimes he committed." It was Onyx, not Zekk.
Jaina's sister had learned long ago not to talk about shades of grey when it came to Zekk. So…what did they sentence him to?
He's on probation—any contact with Imperial leaders and he'll wind up in jail. That was expected. But he has to work for Intelligence either until his sixty-seventh birthday, or until a lawyer successfully appeals and shortens the sentence. Basically, Intel owns him. We're on his first mission right now.
We?
Yeah. Jaina's voice turned sour. I thought I'd surprise him and arrange for my addition to his mission. I know some people in Intel, and they got me in. It's actually a rather disturbing case. You see, there has been evidence of a non-Imperial movement on the Outer Rim, and—
Great, and why are you so upset? Sanar demanded shrewdly.
Well, uh… Jaina mumbled something that sounded like Pita isn tum.
Speak up, kriff it.
Big sigh. Yeah, something was up, and Sanar suspected she had found the root of it.
Perdita received the same sentence as Zekk. Her crimes weren't as bad, so her sentence isn't as long. But they're going to be working together for the next fifteen years without interference. She's on the mission ship now.
Perhaps, Sanar thought, she should have had a little chat with this Perdita gal before she left. Not that she really thought Jaina would run into relationship problems. What else?
Silence.
Jaina?
When the younger woman spoke, it was grudging in the extreme. I'm too well-known to be undercover for this mission. Zekk and Perdita are posing as a married couple. And I don't think either of them really minds—especially Perdita.
Niftyax.
Sanar, Jaina chided half-heartedly. She can't help it, right? Look, I know. It's not…it's far from relationship threatening. Zekk is still the same, and it's not like they ever act like a honeymooning couple in front of me or anything. It'll be fine. I just… It's frustrating. And I think Zekk…
The guy practically worships you. I mean, you saved him from the Dark side. You think he's going to leave you after that?
Jaina's voice quieted. She brought that up once, actually. Before her sister could follow up on that piece of information, Jaina spoke again. Sanar, I can't expect him to love me just because I died for him, can I? That's not how love is. What if…
Nuh-uh. No "what if's." Sanar's voice was firm. You and Zekk are the real thing. You guys wouldn't make me sick if you weren't.
You're right. Despite her words, Jaina didn't sound like she really believed Sanar. Quesack told me the same thing—well, kind of. He told me I should trust Zekk. You're both right. It's just…
Just what? And since when is talking to you like pulling teeth?
Jaina laughed a little. Sorry. She ignored the first question.
Sanar waited for more, but none came. Who's Quesack? Your retaliatory date to the prom?
Now there's a picture. Quesack is about forty years older than me. Even if I was childish enough to start playing games, and even if I was attracted to Quesack—he's devoted to his late wife's memory. So, really not. I think you'd like him, though.
Look, I may have put up with some questionable things, but I'm really not into guys who are that much older. Especially if you actually consider this guy some kind of mentor, which I figure you do.
Oh, honestly, Sanar. Does everything come back to that kind of thing for you? I mean, he's a really great person. He…he kind of reminds me of Daddy.
Sanar's breath came quick. I assume you mean Daddy, and not Dad Solo?
I did. He's… I'll introduce you when you get back. Having him on the mission—I've really appreciated it. I just have your memories of Daddy, but…
Okay, I'll meet him, if you think he's that great, Sanar interrupted.
Desperate for a new topic, Sanar told the other, Clayra kinda brought herself along on the trip.
WHAT? Jaina shrieked. Doesn't she know how dangerous it is? Who the lafit is her husband, and why isn't he for once using his power for good and making her stay home?
I know, Sanar grumbled. That's what I told her! And HIM.
Who is the warftha, anyway? Who'd the priests make her marry? I don't care what Braun and Veras said about him caring about her, I swear, when I get my hands on him—
It's Gantik.
Dead silence stretched for several, long minutes.
You know, you're taking this a lot better than I did.
My furniture wouldn't agree with you, Jaina snarled back. And neither will Gantik, when I find him.
I have first dibs, Solo.
Well, leave me a scrap. An organ, even. I'll curse him through to the wrong side of the River. Maybe escort him over to Kip. Or Devnos. I bet he could do something about the warftha—if there's anything left of him, when we're through with that—that—
Clayra's all convinced she's in love with him, Sanar groused. She actually asked me if I was going to "go back to him." She even warned me about speaking badly of her husband. Warned me!
Does she know what he did? Jaina demanded. 'Cause if she does, and this is her reaction, I'm thinking disinheritance. And in a definitive kind of way.
I have no idea if she knows. She keeps talking about our "past," but—Jay, she wouldn't… If Clayra really knew, she wouldn't love him. It's… She couldn't. Right?
Of course not. Sanar almost felt Jaina's tight embrace, and she returned the sensation gratefully. Of course she couldn't. What he did… What he's doing… Have you figured out what kind of game he's playing?
No, but I will.
What's his excuse?
Something lame, like he was "just trying to protect Clayra for me." He even tried to tell me he really cares about her and Nichyn.
Oh, please, Jaina said, unimpressed.
That's what I said. I can't really start in on him until after we finish our mission, though—if only to keep up appearances, he'll look out for Clayra a little. Besides, at the moment she's convinced she's in love with him. She'd probably put up a bit of a protest if I tortured him.
She can be funny that way, Jaina agreed, with just a little irony.
So, she continued. How much longer do you think you'll be, with the prophecy?
Well, it appears we've got two other players on the field—these weird ladies who call themselves "Vengeance," and the Sildar.
Um…the Sildar?
Yeah. It may or may not actually be Vengeance. I don't know. It's all…weird.
When have our lives been anything but weird?
Sanar laughed, almost despite herself. True. At least we'll never be able to say our lives are bor—
At her feet, her bag mumbled something. She stared at for a moment. One minute, Solo. I'm hearing voices.
Oh? Jaina asked curiously. What are they saying?
It's probably something about perfect-life people who somehow still manage to have jealousy problems, Sanar muttered. She opened the bag, and quickly rifled through. When she realized what was making the sound, she cursed.
What is it?
That com-link I gave Nichyn… Larifx. I'll be right back—I'm going to give it to Clayra. Give me a few minutes?
Jaina laughed. Sanar. I'm always here. Where would I go, especially in a few minutes?
Sanar would never admit that she took that confession and savoured it whenever things got hard afterwards. She only said, Okay, then, and headed for Clayra and Gantik's tent.
She found Clayra just outside of it, cooking the group's meal. "Dinner won't be ready for a while yet," she told Sanar flatly. "You'll have to wait. Just like everyone else."
Ignoring the coldness—Clayra couldn't know—Sanar held out the specially modified com-link. "When I left Nichyn with his foster family, I gave him a one of these, to contact me."
Clayra took the device with an expression of dawning joy. "Can I—"
"You won't be able to talk to him. It…the com doesn't have enough power. Jaina fixed it so it could penetrate the atmosphere, though. You can send letters and such, back and forth. You just need a datachip."
"Thank you." Impulsively, Clayra stood and hugged her sister tightly. "Nichyn means… Well, more than you can imagine to me."
Sanar flinched at the implication that she couldn't love someone, but didn't respond.
Clayra was walking away, apparently convinced that she could figure out the com-link. Just before she stepped into her tent—and probably to Gantik—Sanar spoke.
"Cl—Clayra?"
The girl paused, but didn't turn around.
"What did Gantik tell you, about the two of us?"
But Clayra stepped through the tent, ignoring her sister.
Obviously, she had moved on. Why couldn't Sanar?
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It was with considerable satisfaction that Kyp finally managed to get on Gantik on his own. Sanar had been almost jealous of her monopoly on Gantik damage. Somehow, she'd managed to keep an eye on the Sith kriffer, while still avoiding both of them.
Kyp would let Sanar stew for a while—he wasn't particularly suicidal, especially after her confessed forgiveness. Gantik, however, had gone too long without a warning. As the Kavishka, Kyp figured it was his…responsibility…to enlighten Gantik on a few subjects. If Prophecy hadn't covered it in the Kavishka Manual, however, it would be his personal pleasure to go out of his way to do so.
Sort of the way he got pleasure out of seeing Gantik jump like that. He doubted many animals could get that much height. "Evening, Whilem," he said calmly. As if he didn't plan to scare the living daylights out of the other man.
"Larifx, if you can't startle a person," Gantik replied, almost casually. Only the wariness in his eyes betrayed him. "That part of the whole Kavishka thing?"
"I grew up as a slave in the Kessel mines," Kyp told him. "I know how to be quiet, when need be."
"The Kessel mines? I assume those were difficult living conditions."
Kyp wasn't here to talk about his adolescence. "Sanar has already claimed your life as hers, and I'm not yet at the point where I want to deny her revenge. So, you're going to survive this encounter."
Gantik's eyes turned flinty as he stood. "How gracious of you."
"If you only knew what I would do, otherwise," Kyp said coldly. "Going strictly by Prophecy, you should be dying on the Sildar right now."
"I'm not scared of someone who makes up fancy names for their sword."
In a fluid movement, Kyp's hand was around Gantik's throat. He slowly let the sliding metal's scrape grate on the others' nerves as the Kavishka unsheathed the Sildar and levelled it across Gantik's neck. "Are you sure?" he asked. His eyes lit predatorily, and the other realized—Sanar or no—Kyp would slit his throat without a further thought.
Gantik dropped his eyes in submission.
"That's what I thought." The Sildar only missed nicking Gantik's throat by a hair's breath, but Kyp withdrew. "Stay away from her, Whilem. Or you'll find out just how painful Vengeance can be."
Kyp had almost walked away when Gantik gathered himself enough to speak.
"Exacting vengeance on me won't make her love you."
The Kavishka never turned around. "I never expected it to," he replied placidly. "Unlike some, I don't demand that I be loved in return."
In his palm, in a second so brief Kyp thought he imagined it, the Sildar burned white hot.