"You!" Meetra shouldn't be surprised, but she is.
"Pleasure to see you as well, Jedi," Darth Azamin drawls, his tone making clear there is absolutely no pleasure involved. He flashes a facsimile smile that is a de facto sneer.
"Keep your voice down!" Tony hisses under his breath. "Both of you!"
Meetra glares back at her pretend-husband's mask. Then she glares harder at Azamin. Her hand grips her lightsaber hidden in her pocket as she reflexively summons her power.
"You brought your companion with you." Lord Azamin is displeased. "She wasn't invited."
Tony pushes back. "Where I go, she goes. And in future, you will kindly refer to Lady Sion as my wife."
The Sith Admiral is frankly dubious, but he dutifully reverts to the courtly manners of the Dark elite. "Your pardon, my Lady Sion."
Meetra gives him a tight, tepid smile. She says nothing.
From then on, Tony's brother-in-law pointedly ignores her. Like so many other Sith Lords, Darth Azamin speaks to Tony like she's not in the room. He reports, "I wasn't followed. There must be too many of us to keep surveillance on these days. My Palace oversight has become spotty of late."
"That's good." Tony nods in the direction of the Lord in the cassock on his knees before the altar. "The priest is a friend. He will be discrete."
"I know. That's partly why I chose this place."
"The real danger is from me," Meetra interrupts. "I've got a fucking grenade in my pocket, so don't try anything. I'll be happy to die and kill you too," she threatens Azamin.
"We all saw how ruthless you are at Malachor," the miffed Admiral responds, "but I have more important things to deal with today than you."
Again, she is dismissed as irrelevant. It's infuriating.
Apparently, Tony's feeling ignored, too. Sounding hurt, he reminds her, "Hey, I'm here, too."
Whatever. "You'd probably like dying . . . all that pain," she sniffs.
"Is she always like this?" Cornelius Caesar huffs, looking to Tony.
"Pretty much," her pretend-husband confirms, "but you did threaten to kill her." His mask looking from her mutinous expression to Azamin's impatient annoyance, Tony now asserts himself to refocus the conversation. "You urgently wanted to see me?" he prompts his brother-in-law.
"Yes. I have news." Lord Azamin moves forward to take his place on the pew kneeler beside Meetra. As he ostensibly bows his head to pray, he begins talking in low tones. "A group of us went to the Emperor about Lacerate five days ago. To warn him of what we know of the plot."
"Who was in the group?" Tony asks.
"Myself, Raxus, Serafino, and Tenebrae. I don't think we told him anything he didn't already know. But it's hard to be sure because Vitiate never reveals much. It's impossible to gauge his true reaction to anything. The man is a cypher."
"This move was a show of loyalty?" Tony guesses.
"It was a request that he deal with Lacerate before the entire Army signs up for his cause and the fallout from a failed coup weakens our forces even further."
Tony approves of this motive. "Every single one of Lacerate's fifth column cabal will end up dead for his folly."
"Indeed, and that's the problem. No one wants Vitiate executing half the Army after we lost half the Navy at Malachor." That comment earns Meetra a quick, hard look of reproof, but then Azamin resumes ignoring her as he pretends to pray and speaks to Tony. "If Lacerate is allowed to make his move, we could end up defenseless against the Republic if they invade."
That's not an issue. "They won't invade," Meetra volunteers her opinion.
"How are you so sure?" the Sith Admiral challenges.
It's simple. "They think they have already won."
"But they know we're here," Azamin protests.
"They think they already won." The Republic utterly fails to appreciate the magnitude of the threat the Sith Empire poses. They have no idea of the depth of animosity that awaits them on the far side of the galaxy.
"How did Vitiate react?" Tony wants to know.
"He said he welcomed Lacerate to challenge him. Said he doesn't deserve to be Dark Lord if he cannot defeat a rival."
"Was that posturing? Did you believe him?" Tony quizzes.
"I believed him. I don't think he was the least bit concerned for his throne. But who knows? I tell you, he is impossible to read."
"But you take him at his word?"
"Yes. What else can I do?" stressed out Azamin grumbles.
"So, Vitiate won't act first . . . No preemptive strike . . ." Tony surmises with a sigh.
Azamin is similarly glum about his Emperor's attitude. "He's going to sit back and wait for Lacerate to make his move."
"He knows he can beat him," Meetra speaks aloud the obvious conclusion.
"Everyone knows that except Darth Lacerate and his cronies. The General seems to think this is a political battle . . . that political power matters," Lord Azamin grumbles.
"He's a fool," Tony judges. "Becoming Dark Lord isn't a popularity contest. This isn't the Republic."
"Indeed. Vitiate must be bested in a contest of raw power. Head-to-head in a duel with no holds barred. And it's not a sword fight, it's a Force fight. So . . . that has me wondering." Darth Azamin looks past her to eye his brother-in-law. "What can you do besides red lightning?"
"I'm working on a time freeze," Tony reveals. It's news to her, too.
"You'll need more than that," Azamin grunts. "How about a cloaking move?"
"Not yet."
"Ragnos had invisibility. Force blindness too."
"Give me time," Tony cautions.
"We don't have time!" the Sith Admiral hisses back. "If Lacerate gets the Army purged, the Empire will be weakened further and Vitiate will be more unpopular than ever. It's the worst of all scenarios!"
Tony disavows any such urgency. "We cannot allow Lacerate to dictate our timing."
"How can we avoid it?" Azamin presses. "The whole goal is to help the Empire! This isn't about me or about you, Antoninus, it's about our people! Preempting Lacerate helps our people. It's why I convinced the others to go to the Emperor."
"And to throw suspicion off yourself," Tony observes slyly.
"That too," Lord Azamin admits. "But it did little to help me since Vitiate refuses to act." He sighs. "Lacerate already knows what we did. Someone talked. I think it may have been Tenebrae, but I'm not sure. And now, I'm on the short list of Lords for him to murder."
"It won't come to that," Tony judges. "He won't win."
His brother-in-law isn't convinced. "Don't assume he will wait to win in order to kill me."
Tony frowns. "Who's Lacerate's support in the Navy?"
"Admiral Ducor. He's a decent guy, but I'm sure he would be happy to see me gone. He wanted the Council seat that I got."
"Yes, and no doubt Lacerate is promising him your seat if he wins," Tony guesses. "Well then, how can we help?"
"Stoke your power and be quick about it. This coup is going to happen in weeks, not months. If we're going to strike, it must be soon."
"So, you're in?" Tony asks plainly.
Meetra looks to Darth Azamin questioningly.
The little pureblood Lord hesitates a long moment before answering. And even then, he's noncommittal. "I don't know . . . I'm thinking about it . . . But you need to be ready. And you're going to need more than red lightning for me to be in . . ." He's not trying to be evasive, Meetra judges. He's just miserable and torn about the situation. It's clear that Darth Azamin does not relish turning traitor. But he's getting squeezed between his cocky, dissatisfying Emperor and a treacherous, upstart Army General. The unfolding conflict between those men threatens the Empire that Azamin, like Tony, loves so dearly. And that makes Azamin's own opportunity for treason suddenly ripe.
Tony doesn't press for a commitment. "Fair enough," he allows as he starts speaking in hypotheticals, "but let's say I'm ready. How do you see this going down?"
The two men start strategizing. "We strike before Lacerate," Azamin repeats his view on timing.
"If we win, he'll challenge us," Tony predicts.
"I know. But assuming we beat him and any other challengers who step forward, there can't be any reprisals. Do you hear me? There will be no score settling. We will consolidate power by granting clemency." This is an emphatic point for Darth Azamin. "If we do this, I want it to be with minimal bloodshed."
Tony nods. "Agreed."
"Good. Ideally, the Army and Navy chains of command, the bureaucracy, the civil administrators like yourself—that all remains in place. I'm hoping to remove Vitiate only."
"So as to not threaten anyone else's fiefdoms?" Meetra guesses.
"Correct."
"Do you think that's possible?" she worries, remembering how Tony had recounted the lose-lose history lesson of the Ludo Kressh-Naga Sadow rivalry.
Darth Azamin understands her concern. "It's only possible if we consolidate power quickly." Azamin again draws a line at assassinating his boss and other challengers. He will go no further. "I'm prepared to kill Vitiate and any other Lord who actually claims the throne. But that's it. I do not want the Empire collapsing into civil war from emerging factions. Our goal is to hold the Empire together, not to dismantle it."
"Agreed," Tony affirms.
"I don't know about this . . . I really don't know . . ." Darth Azamin frets. He glances at Meetra and quickly looks away. It's clear she is a big part of his misgivings for the plot.
"What worries you?" Tony prods.
"You mean beyond losing?"
"Yes."
"Winning. Being Dark Lord." With a scowl, Lord Azamin laments, "The only thing worse than losing might be winning. That's not an easy job."
"Someone has to do it."
"How about you?" Azamin looks hopefully to Tony. "If you do the dirty work of killing Vitiate, maybe you should get the throne. You will have earned it," he reasons.
Like always, Tony backs away from that suggestion. At first when this issue came up with others, Meetra thought it false modesty and posturing. But now, she's convinced Tony means what he says. "I'm going back to my system when it's all over." Tony's mask glances at her and adds, "That's when I live happily ever after in obscure retirement."
Meetra can't help but squirm at whatever that vague statement means. Tony clearly has a future in mind for them, but he won't raise it specifically and she doesn't want to know. They have enough conflict already.
"Oh, no," Azamin objects, giving his brother-in-law a stern look. "You're moving to Dromund Kaas to help me rule. I can't do it on my own. Antoninus, I just can't. So, if you think you will put me on the throne and walk away, you're wrong."
Tony thinks a moment and relents. "I will help in any way you ask."
"Be Dark Lord."
"I'm too weak for that."
"Isn't she healing you?"
"Yes, but it's a constant thing. We haven't figured out a way to make it permanent yet."
"What does that mean?"
Meetra answers. "He's better, but far from cured. He needs daily treatment or he regresses."
Tony volunteers sheepishly, "It's why where I go, she goes. I was away from her less than a week and I had an eye patch again."
Darth Azamin clearly perceives the sort of deterioration an eye patch connotes for Tony. "That's too bad. I had hoped-"
"Me too," Tony sighs. "But I'm dependent on her or on torture . . . sometimes both. Cornelius, I can't be Dark Lord like this. I just can't. The Empire deserves better."
"Very well. I'm sorry, Antoninus. After our last meeting, I had hopes she might reverse things."
"It is what it is," Tony shrugs it off. But through the bond, she knows Tony's disappointment that he pretends doesn't exist. She has lessened his plight but not resolved it. That knowledge gnaws at her. And though Tony tells her to be patient, Meetra feels like she should do more. Conversations like this make her feel guilty both for Tony and for the Republic. Meetra has come around to the view that Tony would be an excellent Sith Emperor. He is by far the best hope to establish peace in the galaxy. Next to a hypothetical Dark Lord Revan, that is.
Meetra reaches for Tony's gloved hand now and squeezes it in solidarity.
"When do you think Lacerate will strike?" Tony asks.
"If you listen to rumors, you'll hear timeframes from next week to next year," Azamin reports. "But I tend to believe it's soon. It just feels like things are coalescing and something will happen soon."
"Now that your group has gone to the Emperor, that could force him to come forward," Meetra posits.
"Perhaps," Darth Azamin considers the point. "Vitiate says he welcomes a fight, but I wouldn't put it past him to do a little dirty work behind the scenes. And that means Lacerate might feel he needs to strike before the assassin squads come for him."
"Wouldn't the Emperor prefer to kill a challenger himself before witnesses?" Meetra wonders aloud.
Tony shrugs. "A win is a win where Vitiate is concerned."
Azamin nods. "If I had to guess, I would say Lacerate plans to move around Black Sabbath time."
"During the holidays?" Tony is surprised.
"Think about it," his brother-in-law argues. "All the top military brass will be back home on Dromund Kaas then. The festivities will provide a lot of easy cover for covert meetings."
"Good point." Tony looks to his longtime friend and family member to soberly suggest, "Perhaps you should plan to spend Black Sabbath with us this year."
"No." Azamin has other plans. "I think you and your new wife should plan to spend it with me on Dromund Kaas."
She and Tony exchange looks.
"Cornelius, I can't take her there," her pretend husband objects.
"Nonsense. Lady Sion is always welcome at my home."
Meetra shoots Azamin a hard look. "You sure have changed your tune."
The little Admiral shrugs. "I might need you both there if that's when the coup is planned."
That's a nonstarter as far as Tony is concerned. "I can't take her to Dromund Kaas. It's too risky. She could be recognized."
"I thought you said you were planning to fake her death."
"We are. In fact, we just did. I claimed for the bounty last night."
"Good. By then, General Meetra Surik will be old news so no one will be on the lookout for her."
"That's the plan. But we'll have to see how things go. I don't know that I can get comfortable bringing her to the capital unless it's to make a move for the throne ourselves. Cornelius, there are others there who might sense her Light, like you do."
"Fair enough." It's clear Darth Azamin thinks neither she nor Tony is truly up for the risk of the plot they have proposed. Azamin thinks Tony's heart is in the right place, but he can't follow through.
He might be right, Meetra knows. She worries the dyad is not as powerful as Tony believes.
Meetra now inserts herself into the conversation. It's time for her to ask the questions. "What about Revan?" She wants to hear Cornelius Caesar state his intentions. When the topic of Revan came up during their last meeting, nothing was resolved.
She gets the brush off. "Revan is not a concern."
"He is for me."
"For what end?" the Sith admiral counters calmly.
Isn't it obvious? "I want to rescue him from Vitiate."
"And then what?" Azamin's aggressive yellow eyes bore into hers. He is as suspicious of her motives as she is of his.
"I want to take him home. You must let me take him home."
"So he can return with a Republic armada?" Azamin challenges.
Tony now enters the fray. He muses, "Vitiate fears Revan . . . He doesn't fear Lacerate, but he fears Revan."
"That," his brother-in-law contends, "is my point. Revan is formidable! He's best left in jail for now. He'll only complicate matters if he's loose."
"How?" Meetra demands. "He has no army and no fleet. No supporters. How could Revan possibly complicate things on his own?"
"Because he's Revan," Darth Azamin hisses. "The man is a disruptor wherever he goes."
"Perhaps we could use that to our advantage," Tony posits. "What if we rescue Revan first?"
Meetra likes the sound of that. "We rescue Revan while Vitiate's still around . . . and recruit him to help?" she guesses.
"The issue is Revan's unknown intentions, yes? You're worried he wants the throne. Well . . . what if we simply ask him?" Tony reasons.
"And tip the Emperor off that we're coming by stealing his favorite whipping boy?" Azamin huffs. "We don't even know where Revan is."
"I do," Tony volunteers softly.
"You just think you do."
"I know where he hides Revan," Tony insists. "It won't be easy, but we could get in there. Think about it. Revan on the loose would be the Emperor's worst nightmare."
"It could be my worst nightmare as well," Cornelius Caesar harrumphs.
"He would be a powerful ally . . ." Tony plots.
"He could be a powerful opponent," his brother-in-law counters.
"Don't you find it odd that Vitiate lets him live? Normally, Vitiate kills his enemies outright. Yet he lets Revan live . . . I would like to know why," Tony wonders.
"I just assumed he is stoking his Darkness with Revan's pain, like you do," Azamin shrugs off the point.
Meetra doesn't want to think about that. Instead, she asks Darth Azamin a question she probably shouldn't. "Is Revan unacceptable as Dark Lord?"
"He's a Republic Jedi and the enemy leader who defeated us at Mandalore. Isn't it obvious? That's like asking you to lead us," Darth Azamin scoffs.
"Or perhaps," Tony offers his own version, "Revan is a Sith prince hidden and raised among our enemies for safety. Maybe he flipped to the Dark Side as a homecoming."
"Even if your theory of his heritage is true, it doesn't matter," Azamin asserts. "What matters is that if Revan claims the throne, there will be civil war for sure! You might accept him as Dark Lord . . . Force, I might even be convinced to accept him . . . but others will not," the Admiral predicts.
"Cornelius—"
"Do you understand what you're proposing, Antoninus? Have you thought this through? Turning Revan loose would be like pouring accelerant on the dumpster fire that is our potential civil war! I don't care if you think he's the Sith'ari—I don't care if it's his destiny to rule—the Force can work that part out on its own without my help. I will not take action against Vitiate that promotes civil war!"
The Sith Admiral is emphatic even as he keeps his voice low. "This is not about my personal ambitions-it's about the security of the Empire! I don't even want to be Dark Lord and you don't either! We're on the same side here, and it's the side of the Empire. I don't want to see the Empire fall from poor management, but I especially don't want it torn apart by warring factions. Better Vitiate than that outcome. Do not," he warns, "bring Revan into this."
Listening to his rant, Meetra is inclined to believe that Azamin's fears are sincere and valid. The stakes for their plot are high. It will be a winner-take-all battle royale to be Dark Lord once Vitiate is usurped until a sufficiently acceptable and intimidating Lord wins.
But . . . is that really her foremost concern? Does she care if there's a Sith civil war?
That's a huge question for Meetra. Because if she's going to start a new life in the Empire permanently as Lady Sion, the answer is yes. But if her goal is to free Revan and return home to work for peace from within the Republic, maybe that's less of a priority. A weaker Sith Empire might be more inclined to compromise, right?
Tony declines to press the issue with his brother-in-law. "Just think about it." Glancing around, he worries, "This has gone on too long . . . "
"Agreed," Azamin grunts. "There's a prayer service starting soon."
"So, where do we stand?"
"You two need to get ready. You do whatever you do with her to stoke your power, and then you show me what you've got. If it's good enough, we'll make some decisions. Time is of the essence, Antoninus. Things could get ugly soon . . . very soon . . ."
"You really think Lacerate will make his move during the holidays?"
"I do. And that's my deadline to take action."
Tony's not happy, but he accepts Cornelius Caesar's timing. "Alright. Then, that's our deadline as well. We'll get to work. Cornelius, you take care of yourself," Tony worries for his brother-in-law co-conspirator. Grimly, he promises, "You will always find sanctuary in my system, no matter who you hide from, be it Lacerate's thugs or anyone else."
The little Admiral takes affront at this offer. "I'm not going to hide! I'll stand with Vitiate at the Palace before I will hide from Lacerate! And besides," Darth Azamin now looks to Tony with clear affection showing in his face, "I would never intentionally endanger you, brother." His eyes shift to her and sour Azamin adds, "You've got your hands full already."
"Consider it an open offer. Sometimes, retreat is a perfectly acceptable alternative. Come, my Lady," Tony reaches for her hand. "Time to go."
"Force be with you," Darth Azamin bids them both farewell. His face looks as troubled as they all feel.
"Indeed. Force save us all," Tony responds gravely. Snatching her hand, he starts to lead her out.
And that's when Azamin calls after them softly, "Cave. Amat eum. Non amat te." It's Old Sith Kittat she doesn't understand, and that's very intentional, Meetra suspects.
Together, she and Tony exit the Temple in silence and head towards their flashy red shuttle parked at the far corner of the public landing pad. They're not fully up the ramp when Meetra starts the argument they both know is coming. "What the FUCK was that?"
Tony mutters, "Things must be bad—very bad—for those Lords to have gone to Vitiate . . . every single one of them has a death mark now. Cornelius is playing a dangerous game volunteering for that. . ."
"That is NOT what I'm talking about, and you know it!" Meetra snarls as she tosses back her heavy hood. She's not sure she cares what happens to Darth Azamin, to be honest. He's not her preferred candidate to supplant Vitiate, that's for certain.
" . . . Cornelius is fooling himself if he thinks there won't be fighting once the Emperor's reign ends. Hopefully, it won't be a full-fledged civil war, but there will be bloodshed. It feels almost inevitable . . . like we've been primed for it since Revan appeared on the scene and started amassing vassals and stoking ambitions . . ."
Is Tony even listening to her? "What the Hell kind of alliance is this if you deceive me so casually!"
Shaking his head, distracted Tony mouths a pseudo apology. "It was never my intent to deceive you." Which basically sounds like to her ears like 'I'm sorry you made me do that.'
This from the man who pretends to be his own jailor and who wears a mask? "You did too deceive me!" Maybe it wasn't an outright lie, but the intent to evade was there. "You deliberately hid who you were meeting!" Meetra screeches as she reaches to throw the switch that retracts the ramp behind them.
"Who we were meeting," Tony corrects as he strides fast for the cockpit.
"Right," she nods as she hurries to keep up. Meetra throws up her hands theatrically and huffs, "Surprise! It's your asshole brother-in-law who tried to kill me!"
"You were perfectly safe. He backed down before."
"You should have told me it was him!"
"Would you have come?"
"No! Well, I don't know . . ."
"Would you have preferred that I meet with him behind your back? Is that it?"
"No!"
"Then, what's the problem?" Tony stops short now and turns to lecture her. "Look, none of this is without risk. I realize that you're also way out of your comfort zone. But you are the bravest, strongest, most resilient woman I know. If anyone could handle today's situation, you could."
"Don't think you can get out of this with flattery—"
"It's not flattery if it's the truth."
Tony yanks off his helmet and stares her down. "I was trying to make sure you didn't feel deceived by taking you to the meeting. I know you don't like Cornelius—I know you don't trust him—and I understand why. That's why when I talk to him about our plans, I want you there. Besides, you're a general. I value your strategic input."
Tony resumes walking, she follows, and they're in the cockpit in seconds. He plops down into the pilot's seat and starts flipping switches to reactivate the idling engines.
"That is a lame excuse!" Meetra crosses her arms and fumes.
The repulsor lifts kick in and the shuttle breaks gravity. Tony turns to peer up at her over his shoulder. "I'm surprised you didn't guess we were meeting him."
"Yeah, well it occurred to me, but he didn't exactly leave ready to sign up for your plot."
"That's just Cornelius. He can be a hothead at times, but he always comes around. He's mellowed a lot through the years. Sit down. Strap in. Let's get out of here."
"I thought we were a team," Meetra pouts, feeling truly hurt, "but I guess not."
"Are we a team? Are we really a team? You tell me, Meetra," Tony turns the point around on her. "Because the one holding back, the one with doubts is you."
"It's Azamin as well," she points out. "What did he say to you as we left? What did that Kittat mean?"
Tony's turned away, reversing the prior jump coordinates in the navi-computer, so she can't see his face as he answers. Still, the bond betrays that Tony is choosing his words carefully. "He's worried that you're not in this for the same reasons we are."
"Tell me what he said. Exactly what he said."
"Does it matter?" The shuttle begins to lift off. Tony has it on manual, so he pulls back on the throttle. The craft begins a steep ascent.
"Yes, it matters!" Meetra digs in. "He's a guy I don't trust and he speaks in a language he knows I don't understand. So, yeah, I want to know what he didn't want me to hear."
"He warned me that you love Revan."
"Oh." This is some sort of big insight? Hardly. "You knew that." They've talked about it once or twice. She loves Revan, or at least admires and respects Revan in a non-attachment sort of way. It's love in the generic sense of deep platonic friendship that was common among the Jedi Order. "What else did he say?"
"That you don't love me. He said 'Beware of her. She loves him, not you.'"
It's true. She doesn't love Tony. Not the way Tony wants her to love him . . . not the way he and the rest of his kind understand love to mean. Tony wants an attachment that she can't give him, and it's not because she's attached to Revan. It's because she still wants to be a Jedi.
But Meetra sidesteps all of that to complain about the underlying premise. As far as she's concerned, that comment is more evidence of the sexist Sith culture. "Is it so hard to contemplate that a woman might be motivated by something other than attachment? That she would lay it all on the line for someone other than her family? Am I'm supposed to be in this for you? Because I'm a fool for love or I'm standing by my man or some sort of bullshit like that? Is it too hard for your Dark neanderthal brain to believe that maybe I want to be the hero? Or maybe it's that I have to be the hero because there's no one else left to do it . . . The Republic cast me out, but I'm still trying to help it. I won't give up on it, even if it's given up on me . . ."
Meetra's voice trails off. She looks away, sighs, and bites her lip. Enough rambling. Whenever she rambles like this, it tends to bring on tears. Gulping them back and clamping down hard on those unsettling feelings, she grumbles, "Oh, forget it . . . you wouldn't understand . . . "
"I understand. You want to give meaning to your plight. I'm the same. I'm plotting treason because I might as well—what do I have to lose? I've lost it all already. Here I am still standing long past the point where I should have given up or died. Why am I doing it? Because I care about the Empire, just like you care about the Republic."
"Yeah . . . I know you do." Tony doesn't have to pick this fight, but he is. She admires him for it. There is a strong streak of resigned reluctance to Darth Sion, and Meetra's a sucker for that attitude. It reminds her of the Jedi ideal of self-sacrifice that she was raised to revere.
Tony must be in her thoughts because he leans into that theme. "Cornelius is the same way, only he has more skin in the game than I do given his position."
"I guess . . ." She doesn't like the guy, but she can admit that Darth Azamin is a principled patriot in his own way.
"You've spent two years in aimless misery as the Exile, right? Well, I spent two hundred years in aimless misery before you came along," Tony reminds her softly. "I get it, Meetra—you want your experiences to matter somehow—you want to matter, too—you want to contribute still." Tony looks up from the instrument panel to lock eyes with her. "I understand you. Some days, I think I understand you far better than you understand yourself."
He reaches for her hand now and squeezes it. It's wordless reassurance.
"Little Jedi," he coaxes, "stay the course. Don't rage quit on me now. Cornelius is finally coming around and things are heating up. I need your help. I can't kill Vitiate without you."
Meetra looks down at their clasped hands and dares to ask, "Did you mean what you said about rescuing Revan first?"
"Yes. That is my Plan B if Cornelius won't be Dark Lord."
"Can it be Plan A?" she suggests hopefully.
"No."
She didn't think so. Tony is too loyal to his brother-in-law.
"Take the controls, will you?" Tony abruptly stands now to leave the cockpit.
"Sure." The shuttle is starting to exit Rhelg's upper atmosphere. "I'll make the jump."
"Wait a minute," Tony requests. "I want to check my messages and download my datapad before we get stuck off the grid in hyperspace for seven hours. This is a workday for me," he tells her over his shoulder as he disappears into the main cabin.
"Right."
"Give me five planetary rotations and we'll be off," Tony calls from the back.
They're barely on the second rotation when Meetra spies a Sith military shuttle—presumably Darth Azamin's ship—exit the atmosphere and immediately jump to hyperspace. The diminutive admiral—the maybe next Dark Lord of the Sith—is off to wherever he belongs.
Tony returns, comlink in hand as he pokes at his datapad.
Meetra dutifully reports, "I think I just saw your brother-in-law leave—"
"Awww, fuck." The profanity gets her attention. Tony never swears. "Fuck!" He does it again, more emphatically and stamps his boot.
"What is it?" Meetra's eyes narrow at this rare show of temper. "What's the matter?" The bond tells her that Tony is threatened. Sure enough, when he looks up, his eyes are yellow. It's a telltale sign that he has involuntarily summoned his power.
"We've got company coming . . ."
"Who?"
"Remember when Lacerate sent his emissaries to my Apprentice?"
"Lord Cohors said he listened to them but didn't commit to anything."
"Well, they must be getting impatient because some Colonel has arrived to lobby me personally. Scipio sent me the head's up. Santos told him I was away, but he won't take no for an answer."
"Do you think he knows who we just met?"
"Let's hope not. Cornelius must be right that this coup attempt is happening soon. Lacerate is lining up his allies . . . or at least tallying up his enemies."
"Can you put them off?"
Tony shakes his head no. "They parked a warship in orbit over my home. I think not."
Meetra gulps. Is that move mere posturing or a true threat? How does a guy like Lacerate operate? "Do you think they're going to make you an offer you can't refuse?"
Tony's eyes gleam more yellow than ever as he snarls. "Let's hope not."
She and Tony are dangerous people and together they make an especially dangerous pair, Meetra realizes. But he's right—they are strongest together and right now at least, they need one another. So, with a deep breath, she volunteers, "How can I help?"