Part X
Jagged Fel stared stonily at the bacta tank where his wife was presently bobbing lazily amid the healing bubbles, all too aware that he had come remarkably close to losing her the day prior. He tried not to think like that, but the way his entire life would have fallen apart, had that happened… he shuddered. With Leyla missing, and their best hope for recovering her a rogue Jedi Master who had alienated the entire Jedi order…
That wasn't really fair, he supposed. He'd made his peace with Kyp Durron long ago, and knew that the older man cared deeply for his daughter, that it was difficult for him to not be able to acknowledge their relationship. But frustration made him bitter, and he wanted nothing more than to be doing anything more proactive that hunting down ghosts of leads and now…
He looked up and saw Jaina blearily blinking. He allowed a soft smile to touch his lips and he pressed a hand to the tank. She looked a bit dazed, but she touched the other side of the transparisteel and gave a sad and frustrated quirk of her lips. He raised a hand, signaling that she'd be out in five minutes, and she nodded. Blowing her a kiss, he turned and left to give the droids room to lift her from the tank and check on the progress of her wounds.
Knocking once on the door down the hallway, he slipped inside and found Han and Leia already present, sitting next to a grumpy-looking Admiral Pellaeon. The elderly man's injuries had been less severe than Jaina's and, after a few hours in a bacta tank the evening prior and that morning, was deemed free of further treatment, but highly encouraged to remain for another day in the med bay. Sitting in bed did not particularly agree with the man of action, and he'd been furiously demanding updates and reports regarding the incident.
"Colonel Fel," he was temporarily distracted. "How is your wife?"
"Her treatment will be complete in just a few minutes, and if she's feeling up to it when she's dressed, the droids are going to bring her down here afterwards."
Pellaeon sighed. "I can't even begin to express my apologies for what has happened."
"Please, Gilad," Leia laid a reassuring hand on his arm. "It's probably us who are to blame, given the state of recent events…"
His face twisted into a grimace. "Actually, Leia… you may be wrong about that. But perhaps I should wait for your daughter to arrive before going into details."
If possible, Han's permanent scowl deepened but, for once, he said nothing. It was a tense silence for ten minutes, but the arrival of Jaina made everyone forget the discomfort. Jag stood hurriedly and directed her hover-chair next to his own seat.
"I can walk, you know," she said wryly.
"And I can run a battle fleet," Pellaeon smiled sardonically, "but they don't seem to care much about that."
"Touché, sir."
Pellaeon surveyed the family assembled before him, wondering not for the first time how one family managed to attract so much misfortune. "I've been getting updates on the attack," he broke the brief silence. "And I think I can confidently say that I was the primary target, not any of you."
"How could you know that?" Jaina asked quickly.
"The placement of the bomb, and its strength… all told, it was a fairly low-power blast and, as such, seems to have been targeted specifically for the head of the table. My demolitions experts are skeptical that it would have caused more than superficial injuries on the other side of the same room."
Han was calculating. "Explaining why the three of us," he pointed at Leia and Jag, "were perfectly safe in the room on the opposite side of the corridor. A full powered blast could easily have taken out the next three levels of the ship."
"Indeed." The admiral sighed heavily. "Husted was one of my closest men, he's been on my personal team for five years. And unfortunately, we've uncovered nothing indicative either way whether he was working alone."
"Would he have had any personal reason to want you dead, Admiral?" Jag asked carefully.
"Personal?" he thought. "Not that I was aware of."
Jaina spoke slowly, leaning heavily back in the chair. "Whether or not you were the target, Admiral… how is this possibly coincidence? We arrive, and less than an hour later, there's an attempt on your life, by your personal guard who has had access to you for five years and never gave so much as a hint that he was plotting to blow you up?"
"Perhaps the intention was to pinpoint the blame on you?"
That stopped Jaina short. It was possible… and even if it was a ludicrous claim, and implication of former chief-of-state being involved of the assassination of the former Imperial head-of-state… it would certainly throw a level of chaos into the political system….
"Gilad," Leia asked softly, following Jaina's thoughts. "What sort of opposition is there still to the Remnant's membership in the Galactic Alliance?"
His brows rose in surprise at the question, but he thought for a moment. "The usual trouble-mongering Moffs, to be sure. A few isolated factions within the military, but the general populace is amenable to the arrangement. Why?"
She bit her lip and shrugged. "It could be a worthwhile line of investigation to follow up on. If Jaina's right, if the timing is too coincidental to be pure chance… whoever is driving all that has happened, Gilad, they have a long reach. They've already planted seeds of suspicion in the chief-of-state's office, maybe the attempt on you is simply meant to further the spread of discontent." She looked around at Han, Jag, and Jaina, and saw no obvious opposition to the idea. "I think it's time that we check your database- and then we're going to Bastion to visit the archives."
Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene.
"What went wrong?" Wrynn scowled as Croyel delivered his progress report on the attempt on Gilad Pellaeon's life. "I thought our man was well-placed, that this would be a full-proof attempt."
Croyel smiled tightly. "Well, it should have been; but it seems that he misread a remarkably… intriguing situation. The rest of our strike team have reported back, it seems that Husted planted a bomb in Pellaeon's private reception room, where he might be expected to meet with other prominent galactic leaders."
"Was the admiral meeting with prominent galactic leaders?"
The smile hardened. "He was; the Solos. Leia Organa and Han Solo, and… the girl's parents."
A brow quirked. "That is… a strange coincidence. Do we know what they were doing there?"
"They seem to have given up on following any leads to the girl from Coruscant, and are turning their attention to the Empire. Unfortunately, Husted would have been best placed to know what the Solos and Fels requested of him, and he died in the attempt."
Wrynn looked thoroughly displeased. "Our man died, yet failed to take the admiral with him?"
"It would seem that Jaina Solo saved Pellaeon's life, and was badly injured herself in the blast. Already making a full recovery, however," he answered Wrynn's unspoken question. "They've all been under the strictest security in the medical bay since the incident, but reports indicate that the visitors intend to depart as soon as the girl heals fully."
For a long time, Croyel sat patiently while Wrynn pondered over their next step. They were alone, Croyel had passed two of the black-robed apprentices on his way through the bunker, at least one was retrieving Kyp Durron from Excarga, and he suspected another one or two were overseeing the Fel girl in whatever training Wrynn was trying to accomplish in the child.
"I think," Wrynn said lowly, "that it might be time to launch the armada."
"My lord?"
"This business with the girl's family makes me nervous," he admitted. "Could they have found something leading them to one of our allies among the Moffs, or in the military?"
He started. "It's highly unlikely. The closest thing they've had to a strong lead was getting to Trina Belotab before our assassin did."
"Perhaps she was unsuccessful in destroying any evidence on her husband's computer."
Croyel pursed his lips. "Let us hope not. Nevertheless, we must concede the possibility," he said reluctantly. "What target did you have in mind for the armada?"
Wrynn smiled steadily. "Why, the Fourth Fleet, of course."
Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene.
Her name was Tahlia, and she watched Kyp with something akin to awe when she wasn't focused on piloting the ship out of the Excarga system. For his part, he sat still and calm, forcibly hiding his discomfort as they two departed alone. She wouldn't say anything at all, begging his patience until they reached orbit and she could securely contact her base. Instead, he studied her appearance out of the corner of his eye. She was tall and lithe, with thick auburn hair that hung below her shoulders; she had a wide-eyed, eager face that exuded youth and innocence which threw him slightly off-balance.
In fact- she reminded him of a younger, less-hardened Mara Jade.
Once they were cleared out of Excarga's atmosphere, she keyed a heavily encrypted transmission and awaited a response. After a few minutes, a blurry hologram appeared of a nondescript man in no obvious uniform; Kyp ascertained nothing of his location or allegiance from an initial glance.
"Orders?" Tahlia asked. No greeting or acknowledgement was made between the two.
The man's voice was sharp and clear. "You are to rendez-vous with the armada; coordinates will be sent to you shortly. Instructions will be awaiting you when you arrive. Out."
She closed the open frequency and prepared the navicomputer to receive coordinates that were to come. Kyp watched with something akin to dismay, though he concealed his thoughts as best he could, unsure of just how attuned the younger woman's sensitivities in the Force were. He didn't know where Leyla was, but he was guessing that 'the armada' was not the answer. Not to mention… just what sort of armada did these people have?
That was cause for concern, to be sure.
The system beeped; Tahlia opened the message and keyed in a lengthy and complicated encryption code, feeding the resulting coordinates directly into the navigational computer and preparing for a jump to lightspeed.
A part of Kyp wanted simply to commandeer the small shuttle in the hopes that the return vector would take him straight back to the base and- hopefully- Leyla. Without knowing for sure though, it would completely compromise everything he'd done to this point and destroy his best chance at getting to her. So he sat and waited with barely restrained impatience while Tahlia finished calculating the jump, pulled back the levers, and the ship streaked into hyperspace.
Once she double-checked the systems, she sat back and turned to Kyp with an excited gleam in her eye. "You must have so many questions," she said quickly, almost breathlessly.
"Are you even allowed to answer them?" he asked sardonically.
"Oh," she sounded eager, "I was given instructions to tell you the basics, my master was under the impression that you knew very little of who we were this whole time that you've been serving us loyally."
Quite the understatement. He quickly searched any and all relevant information he'd stolen from Brionia Sumptri. "My only point of contact was Trina Belotab," he acknowledged slowly. "I was never privy to further information; she worried that being amongst the Jedi, it would be too difficult to keep such a long and delicate secret."
"Yes, we heard about your close call getting off-planet," she nodded sagely. "That's how we guessed who you were in the first place."
Well that answered that question. "Who is your 'master' then?" he asked. "And what are you called?"
"Of course," she seemed as though she'd been expecting these questions. "I'll tell you a bit about who we are first. Decades ago, Emperor Palpatine appointed a loyal Moff, Yarden Morgny, to locate young children with latent abilities in the Force, generally orphans and refugees who would not be missed by grieved families." Unlike Mara Jade, Kyp thought, who had vague memories of her distraught parents; unlike Leyla Solo-Fel, who had the galaxy in an uproar over her disappearance. "The emperor chose among his list, and had Morgny establish a safe house where the children could live and train together, well-hidden from the rest of the galaxy.
"They were isolated, kept away from news and knowledge of the outside world. Morgny was their contact, their caretaker, and the emperor visited periodically to investigate their progress. He expended very little effort training them, feeling that they would help each other to grow, and the ones with greatest initiative to explore further powers would emerge the natural leaders. He called his project Red Hand. Their purpose was the continuance of the Empire, and they had hundreds of contacts around the galaxy, ready to do what was necessary should the worst happen and the call be given for the revolution to start."
Kyp listened intently, thoroughly intrigued.
"When the emperor died though, my master was only sixteen, and he'd spent six years of his life hidden in the top secret bunker where Morgny established his safe house. There was debate; Morgny did not know what do to in the sudden chaos. No one had ever suspected that the emperor and Vader would die at the same time, and Red Hand was not ready to take action. Morgny was fearful, hesitant, afraid that the war against the Rebellion had severed too many of their links, that too many spies could have been discovered, or had died in war. So he decided to wait.
"Years passed; the apprentices grew lax in their training, having tested their limits as far as they dared without the presence of a proper master. My own master, Lord Wrynn, grew strongest among his peers, and he argued with Morgny; but Morgny chose to watch and wait, and slowly, the New Republic emerged the victor. The old Empire was dead."
Kyp spoke slowly. "It's… astounding that Red Hand has survived this long."
"Yes," she smiled, "it works because of contacts like yourself. If you'd been suspected and interrogated, you could have given away only one name. With such a tight network, Red Hand has been rebuilt since Morgny's death."
"Oh?"
She smiled thinly. "Morgny eventually delegated an assistant to the project, a young man named Qadrik Croyel. Moff Croyel- as he is now- agreed with some of Lord Wrynn's assessments of Morgny's weaknesses. Croyel killed him and took up his role as Moff. It has been fifteen years since Moff Croyel took over operations, and Wrynn decided that the old apprentices were to go out in the galaxy and do what they could to cultivate valuable resources- such as yourself." She practically batted her eyes and Kyp fought from grimacing.
Fifteen years… he did some quick math. Fifteen years ago, the New Republic under Ponc Gavrisom was finally making peace with the Remnant under Gilad Pellaeon. If ever there was a time to re-stir the discontent among the Imperial loyalists, that would have been it.
"In the meantime, Croyel sought new apprentices, like me, and we have been training with Lord Wrynn for a long time now, waiting until the right moment. We were close, but then the war…" she sighed. "We had to rebuild again after the Yuuzhan Vong ransacked the galaxy, but we have finally begun what has been decades in the making. The call has been given, Master Durron, and we are going to restore this galaxy to its proper state, under Lord Wrynn."
Kyp was careful with his words, not wanting to offend Tahlia or make her suspicious. "You know… under Palpatine's system, it would be expected that apprentices one day murder their master and take their place."
Her eyes widened. "Oh, no. We work together, we are a team. Lord Wrynn strongly believes that power must be cultivated for good, not destroyed out of fear."
Cultivated for good… Kyp supposed that was relative to one's opinion of 'good.'
"Who first recruited you?"
"Oh," he blinked, drawing Brionia's memories to the front of his mind. "Her name was Niwali Tentatu. She found me when I was… traveling, further exploring the Force. As I suspect you know, I trained under the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker for a time, but I found my progress hindered by his… tedious ways. Niwali found me in the Wild Regions and helped me further my understanding of the Force. Just before she died, she sent me back to Skywalker with instructions to watch and wait, that one day I would be contacted. I had begun to suspect that she was wrong, especially once the war happened, but one day I found myself talking unexpectedly to Trina Belotab."
"Well," Tahlia smiled, "you've been most instrumental in our recent progress- welcome to Red Hand."
End Part X