Chapter Six: Penthouse Confrontation

Several locations across Coruscant's surface claimed to have the best view. The rooftop hangar of Fleet Headquarters was a bastion of military precision, the highest high-tech spacecraft lined up in rows straightened to the millimeter. From the Council chambers of the Jedi Temple, anyone seeking audience could look out over towers and traffic toward the curving horizon. Carth had never been to the highest levels of the Senate, but considering they could be seen from nearly any other point in the upper city, he imagined they boasted a similar view.

Ja'Taren Revan's office put them all to shame.

Carth imagined he was supposed to feel impressed, intimidated, awed, or some combination of all three, but he didn't. Seeing the planet from high orbit tended to put even the best city-top views in perspective.

So Carth felt no compunction about sprawling in his chair to reach across and touch the sleeve of the woman beside him. She jumped from her ramrod-straight posture, then offered a slightly sheepish smile in response to his questioning eyebrow.

"You all right?" he asked.

"I am," Bastila replied, but her smile shifted to a thoughtful frown as she glanced at the door behind them. "But it is not myself I am concerned for."

Carth frowned too, straightening up and craning his neck to see over the back of his chair. But to him, it was just a closed door; he was blind to whatever she could sense beyond it.

"It worries you that Tar's on Coruscant, doesn't it?" It worried her enough that she'd come to the upper levels of Coruscant, out in plain view. Plain view hadn't been a safe place for Jedi since Katarr, though Carth was hopeful that fact was on its way to changing.

"Worried is perhaps too strong. I was... surprised to sense him here without any word." Her shoulders twitched in a shrug, and her gaze returned to her folded hands. "Though there is no reason I should expect to be kept informed of his movements. We have no formal connection."

"Maybe not," Carth said, reaching out again to take her hand in his, "but you're his family. And you know Min would be the first to say it."

Bastila looked up with serious eyes and a rueful twist to her lips—an expression resigned to still-fresh sadness. "Min is not here."

Carth tightened his fingers around hers. "Well, we are. And we'll make sure Tar has everything he needs."

She squeezed his hand briefly until the door behind them hissed open. Then she jumped back like a chastised apprentice with a flush on her cheeks. Suppressing a grin, Carth sat up straight to face Revan's grandfather.

He crossed the room and nodded a curt acknowledgment before taking a seat in the chair behind the large desk. "Admiral Onasi. Knight Shan," he said slowly. He spread his hands out on his desk as though he was bracing himself. The old man's features were carefully neutral, but he couldn't keep the blend of hope and dread from his voice. "What brings you to see me? Do you have some news about my granddaughter?"

"I know no more of Min than when we last spoke," Bastila replied, "but she is alive. I'm sorry." Glancing at her, Carth didn't understand the apology until he looked back at Ja'Taren Revan and saw the old man's shoulders slump, not in disappointment but relief.

"Ah. Well, that is something, I suppose." He sat back in his chair and tapped a long finger against his lips before continuing. "You must be here about Tar then."

"We are," Bastila said. "I believe he's here on Coruscant?" The words sounded like a question but Carth knew that was just Jedi diplomacy. Having a Force bond with someone apparently provided an edge when it came to keeping tabs on that person's children. From Carth's perspective, that made Tar a lucky kid. No matter what happened to his parents, he'd never fall through the cracks. He'd never have to fend for himself or get dragged to some sadistic academy hell-bent on churning out Sith apprentices.

"Yes." The old man nodded to the door he had come through. "He's with the nanny at the moment and exploring his new bedroom. I thought it would be best to have a few days of adjustment before his sessions with the tutor starts."

"Then you intend this to be a permanent arrangement?" Bastila asked.

"Absolutely. The boy will be much better off here then being left to run wild in some backwater jungle camp."

Carth nodded, in complete agreement, and tried not to imagine how different his own son's life might have been if he'd had a wealthy relative to take him in. "That's generous of you, though I'm a little surprised Canderous saw it that way." Back on the Hawk, the Mandalorian couldn't go five minutes without mentioning his Clan and the Clan's honor, but when push came to shove, Carth's suspicions were confirmed—Ordo was all talk.

"He didn't, but I didn't let that stop me."

When Carth looked at Bastila, he saw the same small furrow of confusion that he could feel creasing his own brow. "I'm afraid I don't understand. Did Canderous object to Tar arriving on Coruscant?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. The Mandalorian sent me a message full of his colorful threats, but by then it was too late. I'd already removed the boy from the Dxun base and I have no intention of returning him."

Until he could see the (probably vastly expensive) woodgrain, Carth hadn't realized he'd leaned forward almost close enough to touch the desk between him and Revan's grandfather. He couldn't seem to bring himself to sit back. "You removed him? What does that mean?"

The old man arched an eyebrow, looking at Carth as though he was a slow and disappointing child. "It means that I tired of the Mandalorian's games and took the appropriate action. I had agents infiltrate his camp, report on their findings, and bring the boy to me."

Carth could sit back then, almost falling against the chair as he covered his face with his hands. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"You took Tar without his father's permission?" Bastila asked.

"Knight Shan, it took seventy-three messages for him to return my comm calls, and he still wouldn't let me even meet with Tar. What do you think he would have done had I shown up at their base and asked politely for him to honor the court order granting me custody? Of course I didn't ask his permission. It was the only way to get that boy away from his unfit thug of a father."

"You didn't even..." The words trailed off as Carth swallowed down the all-too-vivid memory of not knowing where his son was before it suffocated him. "Does he at least know Tar is safe?"

Ja'Taren shrugged. "He's figured out that I'm the one who took the boy, which is the same thing."

Bastila's next words reminded Carth of the small boy involved, that he'd been too wrapped up in sympathetic feelings for the father (for Canderous of all people).

"Is Tar all right?" Bastila asked. "I imagine he's confused. As would any child be if taken from his home by strangers in the night." A brittle edge of ice entered her voice, and Carth watched with satisfaction as blue eyes sharpened.

"Children are resilient. He will adjust."

"He very well may. But if you believe he will forget that he was abducted from the only life he's ever known, then I believe you are mistaken. Some memories stay with children throughout their lives."

Knowing Bastila would not appreciate a public display of support, Carth resisted the urge to take her hand again, but looking at her, he couldn't help but see a shadow of the six-year-old girl left behind at the Jedi Temple.

The old man sat up straight in his chair, crossed his arms, and shot back, "What I believe is that Tar's life will be better here than with an indifferent and neglectful father who is too busy chasing Jedi tail to be raising his son. If you honestly believe he's going to miss the Mandalorian, then you are woefully naive."

"You're angry at Canderous for looking for Min?" Carth asked. "I'd have thought you'd be pleased."

"I would be, if he actually tried to look for my granddaughter. Despite what he claims, I know better. He wouldn't be sleeping with the Jedi who calls herself the Handmaiden if he was looking for Min."

"The Echani?" Carth asked as he glanced at Bastila. He'd mentioned the others with Canderous who'd taken part in the battle over Telos, especially the ones who were Force sensitive, which seemed to be most of them beside Canderous and the droids. "How do you know he's... that they're...?"

"I received the information from the Ebon Hawk's pilot. When I confronted the Mandalorian, he didn't deny it." The old man leaned forward, resting his hands on his desk as he continued. "What do you think would have happened to Tar, if I had allowed him to stay? He already neglects the boy, and it would only be worse with this woman replacing my granddaughter."

The words "Ebon Hawk's pilot" set Carth's teeth on edge, but he swallowed down his annoyance. "Look, nobody's going to argue that Canderous is a great father, but you can't just kidnap a child from a Mandalorian camp. If you had the court order, then you should have let the authorities handle it."

"Are you truly naive enough to think that Republic government would go into a Mandalorian camp to enforce this court order? Or that if I had shown up on Dxun and demanded my rights to the boy that they would have honored it?" He waved a gnarled hand in an arrogant dismissal. "No. I had no choice but to act as I did. And now, the Republic authorities will get their chance to handle the situation as soon as the Mandalorian and his thugs arrive."

"What?" Carth demanded.

"You believe the Mandalorians are coming to reclaim the boy?" Bastila asked.

"According to the saber rattling message he sent earlier, I'd say that is his intention. But don't worry, I've already informed Republic security as well as increasing my own mercenary force. We are in no danger, and once he realizes that he cannot reach the boy, he will have no choice but to return to his jungle moon."

"Are you kidding me?" Carth struggled to keep his voice below shouting. "You really think Canderous will just... that he'll run back to Dxun with his tail between his legs?" His fingernails pressed deep into his palms as he shook his head. "You're going to start a war, you know that? You really think Min would want this?"

For the first time anger flashed across the old man's face, tightening his lips and narrowing his eyes. "Minuet would want her son to be raised by someone who actually gives a damn about him. Tar is a prize to the Mandalorian, nothing more. Just like my granddaughter was. Once he thumps his chest enough to satisfy his own ego, he will leave."

Before Carth could open his mouth to retort, Bastila stepped in. "I think you underestimate the depth of Canderous's feelings for Min and his son," she murmured. "Regardless," she continued in a more brisk tone, "what has been done cannot be changed. What is at issue now is how to proceed. An open, violent confrontation serves no one, least of all Tar."

"Then the best use of your time would be convincing the Mandalorian to return to his jungle moon, because I am not giving up the boy."

"And you're planning to what? Give up a multibillion-credit empire to care for a three-year-old?" Carth asked. "Or are you planning to dump him on the Jedi like you did Min?"

"Carth," Bastila admonished quietly, though whether because of his tone or because of the implication that Tar didn't belong with the Jedi, he wasn't sure. She turned to Ja'Taren instead. "His training will become an issue and more swiftly than you might anticipate. It's part of the reason I have been so attuned to him. Regardless of the state of the Order, I gave my word to Min that I would help Tar develop his talents. And Canderous had agreed."

Eventually was the unspoken addendum Carth knew damn well she was thinking, even without the Force.

The old man's back was ramrod straight. "I have no intention of giving Tar to the Jedi. But I see no reason why he couldn't be trained here. It should be a useful asset when he inherits my business empire."

"Wow," Carth remarked. The annoyance he'd been feeling at the old man's arrogance bubbled over into anger. "How many generations of your own family do you plan to burn through to feed your own ambition?"

"Carth," Bastila began again, but this time he cut her off.

"From the memories Min did get back, it sounds like she's damn lucky to have forgotten most things about her parents," Carth continued. "And we all know how well things turned out for her. What is it exactly that makes you think you're remotely fit to serve as that little boy's guardian?"

The old man crossed his arms over his frail chest and narrowed his eyes to slits. "What makes you remotely fit to judge me? From what I understand, you've had your own spectacular failures as a parent. So perhaps you should clean up your own affairs before deciding to meddle in mine."

"My son's a Jedi Knight." Or he would be if the Order hadn't been all but destroyed on Katarr. Still, Carth knew Jolee was doing everything he could to keep Dustil on the right path to training. And to keep him safe. He knew how hard it was to entrust his only child to someone else's care, even when he was grown and even when he knew it was the right thing. He couldn't imagine having that decision forced on him.

"Only because my granddaughter risked her neck at that Academy on Korriban. If it weren't for her, he'd still be a second-rate Sith."

Carth felt his eyes narrow. "If it weren't for her, he'd still have a mother."

"Who would be speaking Mandalorian right now. That is, if she'd survived a Mandalorian conquest of your homeworld. And then, of course, there is you. Tell me, Admiral, do you think you'd be standing here right now, if my granddaugher hadn't risked everything and joined the war? Or would you have died making a heroic stand against the unstoppable Mandalorian war machine?"

"Probably," Carth said. "And I would have died gladly to protect my family. But if you think I'm going to fight the Mandalorians to defend your right to take children from their fathers without any kind of... without even trying to work things out the right way..." Carth slashed a hand through the air in front of him. "It's not going to happen."

"You mistake me, Admiral. I haven't asked you to fight anyone for me. Coruscant security has already been notified and are on standby along with my own mercenaries. The situation is well under control. We do not need your help, and in fact, I would prefer it if you stayed out of the way."

"Our presence might help defuse any standoff that might occur," Bastila said. She sounded way more reasonable than Carth thought the situation warranted. "At the very least I'd like to see Tar, to evaluate the progression of his abilities if nothing else."

The old man spoke after a few moments of silent consideration. "You may see Tar on one condition. That the admiral keeps his venom about my granddaughter to himself." He turned his gaze from Bastila to Carth. "Once I was dismayed to discover that it was the Mandalorian she had taken up with and not you. But I've come to realize it's because of ungrateful men like you, who have forgotten everything that you owe her, who grasp at the mistakes she made while she was risking everything to protect what you couldn't, that she is crippled by her guilt.

"Men like you are the reason that I lost her. I will not have you poisoning her memory to her son, and admiral or no, I will not hesitate to have you tossed bodily from my penthouse if you try. Is that clear?"

"You really think I'd try to explain to a three-year-old that his parents are war criminals?" The man was lucky Carth didn't have the Force, or he'd probably be choking on nothing right about now. "I made my peace with Min and count her as a friend and I'm here out of concern for her son. If that's not enough for you, then..." He struggled for a moment to find appropriately diplomatic words before shrugging. "Well, I really don't give a damn if that's not enough for you."

"Yes. From the way you've disrespected both myself and my granddaughter in my own home, that you don't give a damn is obvious." He twitched his fingers at the door in an obvious dismissal. "Go take your look and then get out of my home, because you are not welcome here."

Carth supposed he should be grateful they hadn't been bodily removed by one of the many security agents lurking throughout the building, but grateful wasn't high on the list of his current feelings. He got to his feet and stalked to the door with Bastila close behind him. After a few paces down the hallway, however, he realized that he had no idea where he was going and stepped to the side to allow her to lead the way to Tar.

"This is crazy," he muttered as they passed through hallway after hallway, most of them decorated with elaborate art that probably cost more than he'd make in a lifetime. "From both of them. It's a diplomatic and military nightmare and neither of them seems to give a damn."

"The situation hasn't escalated to violence yet," Bastila replied. "Perhaps a peaceful arrangement can yet be reached."

"Canderous back down from a fight?" Carth snorted. "That'll be the day. I would have said a compromise would have to come from Min's grandfather, but I think I see now where Min got her stubborn streak from."

"He truly does care for Tar's well-being," Bastila replied, ever the diplomat. "That much was clear."

"I know," Carth sighed. "That's what makes this such a mess."

They walked past several more cross-corridors and then into a long hallway with less décor and more security cameras. They even had to pass by an armed guard, though he just nodded them through. Carth hoped that meant that Ja'Taren Revan's orders were relayed swiftly and not that security was lax.

Bastila finally stopped before a nondescript door. She hesitated and looked back at Carth. "He's nearly asleep."

"We'll just peek in." He stepped in front of the door control panel and let his hand over the button. "I used to me a pro at this," he told her with a smile.

He pressed the button once, let the door slide open a hand's-width, and then tapped it again. Inside the darkened room, a large bed dominated the space. As he watched a very small figured wiggled out from the middle of the bed and turned toward the line of light spilling into the room.

"Mama?" a little voice called.

"I guess I've lost my touch," Carth murmured. He tapped the door button to let it slide all the way open, then stepped back so Bastila could go in. She hesitated for a moment longer before walking in and siding on the edge of the bed.

"No, Tar. I'm Bastila. Do you remember me? I visited you in the camp once."

The boy nodded. "You feel like Mama."

If Bastila was as surprised as Carth by that response, she hid it well. "Do you remember her?"

"She had a feeling. I remember the feeling." The boy crawled over to sit beside Bastila. "Is she coming home soon?"

"I… don't know, Tar. I wish I did."

"When can I go home?"

"I'm afraid I don't know that either. But for now you're going to stay here with your great-grandfather. Do you think you can be patient while he and your father discuss the matter?"

"Buir is mad," the boy said solemnly.

"You can feel his anger? Does it trouble you?"

Tar shook his head. "He's always mad."

"Well, we will do our best to help him stop being mad."

"Okay," Tar murmured while making no attempt to stifle his yawn. "Can I sleep now?"

"Of course," Bastila murmured back. "I apologize for disturbing you."

As Tar struggled through the sea of blankets to return to the center of the massive bed, Bastila did her best to help him, lifting up the thickest of the covers and then replacing it over the boy's small form. Two pangs of loss stabbed through Carth's chest—one for himself and all the moments like this he'd missed with Morgana and Dustil, and one for Min and the moments she was missing now. If the Sith truly were a threat somewhere out there, then he knew she was doing the right thing, just like he'd always hoped he was. But that was poor comfort while lying in a cold bunk staring at a metal bulkhead.

The door hissed closed behind Bastila, and she let out a quiet breath. "He's strong, isn't he?" Carth asked.

She nodded and tucked a stray strand of hair back in her braid. "Regardless of the outcome of this current situation, a very talented Jedi will have to take charge of his training."

Carth decided to take advantage of the empty hallway and placed his hands on her waist. "Someone like you?"

A slight flush tinted her cheeks and she lowered her eyes to his chest. "I meant someone with more experience and wisdom."

"You handled him pretty well just now," he said. He ducked his head to meet her eyes. "He trusts you."

"Because of my connection with Min."

"She trusts you, too." He gently lifted her chin up with one hand. "You're a very trustworthy person." He kissed her once, swift and soft, knowing she'd object to anything more than that in public.

Sure enough, when he pulled back, her blush had darkened. "Carth, the cameras," she chided him. But to his surprise, she pushed up on her toes to kiss him again before stepping out of his embrace and turning to head back down the hall. Maybe being forced apart by the attacks on the Jedi had bothered her as much as it had bothered him. He smiled as he followed her, grateful that no matter how big a mess they might be in, they'd at least get to deal with it together.