Leena hovers over his shoulder as he pilots their new ship. "Are we away?"
"We will be soon."
"Good. The sooner, the better." Leena wants to flee the Republic military, and who can blame her?
She plops down in the co-pilot seat and slumps a little. Glancing over to catch her staring bleakly into space, Gaius thinks he knows what's the matter. He recognizes the turbulent emotions behind her dazed expression. It's the look of being overwhelmed.
"It takes time," he volunteers softly. "When I was thawed out of carbonite, I discovered I had lost over six years. It's a lot to process."
Leena simply nods.
"It's very fresh. I promise it will get better."
She nods again. "So, what's the plan? Where are we going?" Like earlier in the stolen shuttle, Leena keeps looking for a path forward.
She wants him to lead, but Gaius fesses up the truth that there's nowhere to go. "I'm jumping close to the neutral zone on the Republic side. I'll park us just off a hyperspace lane so we'll have close access to a supply depot."
"Okay. Then what?"
"We'll stay there. For a while, at least."
Leena is still facing out of the cockpit. He sees her visibly swallow. "So we're just going to hang out anonymously in space?"
"Think of it as a vacation," he offers. "This is our long-delayed honeymoon," he attempts a lame joke.
Her head swerves towards him. "In the Republic?" she hisses.
He sheepishly admits, "It's safer there for me. Plus, we can spend our credits. I'll buy you a new dress."
"If we're going to hide in the Republic, maybe I should wear this." Leena frowns down at her Jedi peasant garb.
He has to admit, "It's not a bad disguise. That outfit might be useful."
"Forget new clothes, I want a gun. Buy me a pistol," Leena tersely requests. She'd rather have a weapon than a pretty dress. The request speaks volumes about how vulnerable Leena feels right now.
"I will," he promises immediately.
"Good." She's back to staring bleakly into space as she ventures, "My Lord, are you in exile?"
He's never thought of it in those terms, but yes. "I suppose I am."
"Okay." With a deep fortifying breath, Leena stands to her feet. "This ship is really nice actually. It even has a bathtub."
"Going to try it out?"
"I think so. I need to wash. I'm dirty."
Gaius isn't surprised. She's been in a prison cell, probably with only basic hygiene. "Go relax," he urges. "It's been an eventful day." That's the understatement of the year, and they both know it.
He meets Leena's eyes. She smiles weakly and exits the cockpit. In her wake, Gaius is left feeling that he has yet again let someone down.
He spends the next two hours familiarizing himself with his new ship. The interior is as luxe and gaudy as the exterior. But it's certainly livable. Gaius takes his time poking around. He figures he'll give Leena some space. She has a lot to adjust to. He doesn't want to add to her obvious distress.
When he finally wanders back to the captain's quarters, he finds her fast asleep on the bed. She's wrapped in a towel and partially under the bedcovers. She's still wearing the headband, he notices.
She's so lovely as she relaxes in sleep. Her pretty lekku stream over the pillow. Where the towel has slipped, her full, purple tipped breasts spill out. As always, Leena is an eyeful for the male gaze. She's all voluptuous curves and soft flesh, with exotic blue Twi'lek skin, broad and high cheekbones, and pouty lips. Gaius stands there and looks his fill, marveling that this is no dream—she is real. How many times has he longed for the return of his beloved Eleena? He has her back now. But the circumstances—for him and for her—are less than ideal.
Gaius decides to follow her example. Methodically, he divests himself of his ever-present armor exoskeleton. After a long hot shower, he crawls into bed. Leena stirs as he snuggles up beside her. But she doesn't wake as he lays his head on the pillow behind hers. They have each other, he tells himself, and that's a lot. For the first time in years, he's not alone. For now, at least . . .
He sleeps a long time. A verylong time. When he wakes, the bed beside him is empty. Dragging on his pants, he wanders barefoot and bare chested in the direction of the smell of food. That's how he finds Leena awake and dressed. She's sitting at a table in the lounge area, sipping water and picking at a plate.
She looks up as he enters. She smiles a little nervously.
"Good morning," he rumbles gruffly as he wipes at his face.
"You mean good afternoon."
"I slept that long?"
"You must have needed it."
She's looking him over. It makes him self-conscious. He's less bulky now than he used to be. It's because he has less muscle. At this age, he fights more with the Force than with his body. But overall, he just fights less. Gone are the days when he fought everyone, all the time. It shows. He's a bit soft. Really, he's old. Can she see that? Maybe he should have put his shirt on . . .
"Have a seat." She gestures to the chair opposite her. "Let me get you something."
"Got any caf?"
"Yes." Leena pops up and disappears. She reappears promptly with a steaming mug, which he gratefully accepts.
"You remember how I like it."
She nods gravely, "I remember."
"Good. Because I remember everything." And wait, that came out sounding too intense—almost creepy. Geez, this feels awkward. Their old easy rapport is gone. That's unexpected, and Gaius hates it. Leena used to be the one relationship in his life that didn't require work.
"Hungry?" she asks.
"Not yet. This is good." He settles back in his chair and feels her eyes on him again. Yes, it was an error not to wear a shirt. Look at his big gut hanging out.
"That one's new."
"What?"
She points to his right shoulder. And that's when Gaius realizes that Leena's not assessing the state of his physique, she's making an accounting of his recent injuries. "What happened there?"
"Saber stab."
"Jedi?"
"No, Sith."
"And down by your ribs?"
"Blaster that got through my armor."
"Was that at point blank range?"
"Pretty much."
"Gaius!" she gasps with alarm.
He shrugs. "I survived."
"Ouch," she grimaces in sympathy. "Sorry about that."
He takes a sip of caf. And then another. An uncomfortable silence falls between them. They feel like intimate strangers. Wait—she's looking at him expectantly. He should say something.
"Leena—"
"Gaius—"
They each begin to speak.
"You go ahead," he immediately defers.
But she objects. "No, you, my Lord." Leena lowers her chin and drops her eyes. Then, she seals her lips in a firm line that makes clear he goes first.
Well, okay. Feeling a bit resigned, Gaius plods ahead with the uncomfortable topic that kept him laying awake beside her last night. He doesn't want to have this conversation, but he feels he needs to have this conversation. He begins bluntly, as usual.
"You don't have to stay with me. I don't want you to feel like you have to stay with me . . ."
Leena looks pointedly at his scarred chest. "Someone needs to look after you."
"I mean it. Just because you're back doesn't mean we have to pick up where we left off." Looking away, he sighs out, "A lot has changed."
Leena thinks he's rejecting her. "You don't want me . . ."
"No! I do!" he yelps, putting his mug down. This is coming out all wrong. "It's just . . . Well, I don't have a lot to offer you right now. Just danger." Glumly, he assesses, "I'm as dangerous now as I ever was. If people ever realize I'm not dead, they will be coming for me. I have more enemies now than ever . . ."
"And if anyone learns you are the Emperor's secret son—"
"They will be lining up to kill me." As the heir apparent to the Empire, he'll be a must-kill to maintain a grip on power. Scowling for that truth, he quickly amends his prediction. "They'll be teaming up to kill me. Like before when I tried to claim the throne . . . and got everyone killed . . ." He has terrible guilt over that debacle. "So, I won't hold you to this marriage. Like you say, it's not legal. It was kind of impulsive . . . maybe desperate . . ." His voice trails off as he recalls the nightmare circumstances of their impromptu nuptials.
Leena takes a moment before she replies. "Is that what you want? For us to break up?"
"No! It's just . . . I want you to understand what the situation is for me. It's much worse than before. And before, it got you killed."
Leena is as undaunted as ever. "I've been dead. Death doesn't scare me."
"I'm all downside, and no upside these days, babe. I don't want to mislead you. At least before, I could offer you something better than this." He gestures to the cheesy, pimped out spice kingpin's ride they're living in, but he might as well be gesturing to himself—the worn out, broke, and out of work warrior. He has really come down in life since she died.
Leena thinks a moment before she informs him, "I was never with you for the credits. And we were never respectable. So, if we're living like outlaws, I'm fine with it. My Lord, I was a slave before you came into my life. I don't ask for much."
"I got old after you died," Gaius adds glumly.
"Getting old counts for winning for a Sith Lord."
She's right, but that's not his point. "It's still old. I'm too old for you now." There used to be about a decade between them. But that has stretched to two decades since her resurrection.
"It's not your age that worries me," Leena offers. "And it's not the danger."
"Yeah? What is it then?"
"I don't like to see you so down."
He won't deny his depression. "I don't like it either," he grumbles. But there's little to be happy about these days, save for her return.
Leena reaches a hand across the tabletop. He responds with his own. They sit there a moment with hands clasped in mutual silence before Leena speaks up.
"I've been thinking . . . Maybe this time is just what we both need. It's a chance to readjust to life and to each other. Some downtime hidden in space where no one will bother us . . ."
He nods slowly. "Okay . . ."
"Don't leave me," she blurts out.
The hand he holds is trembling now. Like her lips. And look at those fast-blinking eyes. He groans. "Leena—"
"Don't leave me, my Lord. P-Please don't l-leave me."
This conversation has backfired. His good intentions have gone awry. He was trying to make clear that she still has choices. But instead, he has stoked her insecurities. Her abandonment issues are showing. Leena's a slave sold away from her mother. It's a hurt he can relate to since he's the castoff kid who never should have been born. Neither of them had stable family relationships, and they bear the emotional damage still as adults.
"Come here." Gaius abruptly stands to his feet and tugs her up as well. Skirting around the table between them, he grabs for her upper arms and looks down into her upturned face. Force, she's so beautiful . . . Stalwart and brave and yet vulnerable and soft. It's an intoxicatingly feminine combination. She's all heart and all woman.
"I won't ever leave you," he vows. "I just want you to know that you are free to leave me." Despite what everybody thinks, nothing about his history with Leena has ever been compelled. The lurid narrative of their supposed predatory, toxic love affair that ended in murder is a lie. It was a convenient cover story to hide the truth of how wholesome and committed they were to one another. For Leena is a weakness he cannot deny, and weakness ill becomes a Lord of the Sith.
"I don't want you to go—I will hate it if you go—but I will let you leave. You can do so much better than me—"
"Stop it! Stop talking like that!"
"It's true."
"It's not! Listen," she stammers, "I am dead woman sent back to life. It was a miracle! The Force worked a miracle! It wasn't for me—the Force didn't do it for me—it was for you! To help you!"
"To help me?" No, that's not what happened. She was Vitiate's means to manipulate him.
"You need help! I can't give you credits or a fleet. I can't solve your problems or improve your political situation. But I can help you." Gaius hears the sense of purpose resonate in her tone. Leena firmly believes that she's been given a second chance at life, but that second chance is for his benefit. "You and me—us together—Gaius, we are the will of the Force."
It's a dramatic, romantic sentiment coming from a woman without any Force sensitivity. Leena has no special insight into the intentions of the divine and she's not given to religion generally. But her fervent words feel oddly resonant. They feel true.
Gaius is taken aback.
Could she be right? Could Vitiate's ploy be a backhanded means to help him? He wonders. For he learned long ago that the Force works through average ordinary people as well as through its favorites. It's entirely possible that Leena is right, and she was sent back for the purpose of helping him. Vitiate may have intended her to be his tool, but perhaps the Force had other plans . . .
Gaius can't help but smirk a little at the thought. "So you're gonna fix me?"
"I'm going to try," she nods earnestly. "And maybe, it will fix me too."
That sentiment has always been an undercurrent of their relationship. He and Leena are both fixers, and they gravitated towards one another as fellow damaged souls. When he first met her, Gaius knew he couldn't better his own lot in life. But he thought he could better the circumstances of the valiant slave woman he happened upon. In an impulse of empathy, he tried to bestow upon Leena a Sith's greatest gift—power. But in giving her agency and skills, he inadvertently fell in love.
And here Leena is, accidentally on purpose stating the truth of her intentions: she's about to make him her project like he once made her plight his concern. The tables are turned; he's the one who needs help. But maybe that's nothing new. Leena's the slave, but she mastered him long ago. Satele Shan recognized it immediately—Leena only pretends that he's in charge. They both like it that way.
"I can't promise it will work," she gives lip service to caution that is much at odds with her determined face. "But I'm going to try, if you'll let me. So, stop pushing me away. You did this long ago—do you remember?" Fixing him with a steely glare, Leena reminds him, "It didn't work then, and it won't work now."
Leena's his ride-or-die girl, like always. She's loyal to him in a way no person has ever been loyal to her. And she expects so little in return. Coming as he does from the largely transactional society of the Sith, Gaius still has trouble understanding her motivations. No one has ever loved him without expectations. That's not how things work on the Dark Side.
"We're doing this," she de facto commands him.
Feeling chagrined and enormously relieved, he grins at her. "How can I say no?"
"Lord Malgus?"
"Yes, Lady Malgus?"
"Kiss me."
This time, he doesn't get a chance to reply. Leena reaches up to tug him down to meet her lips. For the briefest of moments, she hesitates. She's poised staring wide eyed up at him. "I lived for this in that cell," she whispers. "For the hope that one day you would show up to rescue me, like they plotted. Only you would win, and I would be free again . . . that's twice you have set me free, Gaius . . ."
She stops there. She's too busy kissing him.
For him too, this is a fantasy come to life. Her lips are soft and insistent, like he has imagined. Her breasts overspill his grip like he recalls. Best of all, she's warm and real—this is no late-night fever dream reverie. This is now, she is alive, and they are about to be together in the flesh once more.
Maybe he should take his time, but he isn't ready to delay gratification and neither is she. Their passion is the one aspect of their reunion that feels neither awkward nor forced. In the bedroom, at least, they are picking up where things left off.
Leena's as urgent as he is to rid herself of her clothes. Gaius steps back to enjoy the impromptu strip tease, and he can't help but observe, "This is a little weird with you in that outfit."
She laughs. "Feel like you're seducing a Jedi to the Dark Side?"
"More like I'm the one getting seduced," he grumbles as she works at the buttons down the front of her tunic.
"Don't say that!" Leena stops. "I know that Jedi woman liked you . . . She liked you liked you . . ."
"You're imagining things."
"No, I'm not. I know what I saw. A woman knows."
He thinks she's wrong, but he's tickled all the same. "I love that you're a little jealous." It's nice to be wanted.
He reaches to resume her task of unbuttoning. Leena stands there patiently as he fumbles. But she warns, "I better not see her name pop up on your comlink."
He smirks. "Worried she'll start sexting me?"
"She had better not," Leena growls. "Stop. Let me do it." She bats his hands away and throws the tunic up and over her head to yank it off.
"No bra? Jedi women don't wear bras?"
"It wasn't my size. Jedi women are flat chested."
"That's not my type."
"Good answer," Leena beams back at him.
She never manages to discard any further clothing. They flip her skirt up and yank down her panties. Then, he unzips and goes to work.
It's been a long time since he went to bed with a woman. Not since his disastrous few weeks of marriage to Cassis. That ended badly once he called his Sith aristocrat wife by Leena's name accidentally. Ever since, he has lived celibate, like he has for periodic stretches of his life. He long ago mastered the ability to channel lustful urges into power. For like all emotions he must manage—despair, hurt, loneliness, anger, fear—those weaknesses are made to bolster his strength. They make him Darker in the end. Pain is power on the shadow side of the Force.
But his longtime widower status is over. Will everything work like it should? Thankfully, it does. There isn't much finesse to their coupling, but there is plenty of gusto. If he were twenty years younger, they'd do it again in a few minutes. And if he were thirty years younger, they'd go at it all day long. But this is enough for now. Their connection is reaffirmed in this most personal of ways. It feels truly life affirming.
They end up out of breath and tangled with each other on the bed. The aftermath is as glorious as it is haphazard. Gaius can't help but feel like a burden has been lifted from him. He's suddenly more relaxed and more hopeful than he has felt in forever. It's a contentment he wants to last.
"Remember when I said that you didn't have to stay with me?" he murmurs.
"I didn't listen," Leena scoffs.
"Good. Because I take it back." He pulls her closer to whisper, "If you ever try to leave me, I will hunt you down and drag you home."
"Is that a promise?"
"Yes. And to be clear, I consider us to be married."
"Gaius—"
"You're my wife. My first wife and my only true wife. If we have to get married in the Republic to make it official, we can."
Leena immediately rejects the idea. "I don't recognize the governmental authority of the Republic."
"Spoken like the true Lady Malgus," he chuckles.
"They wouldn't let you marry me anyway. You'd have to buy me. I'm a slave in their eyes."
"Not here. Here," he drops a kiss on her adorable nose, "I am a slave for you."
That afternoon is the first of many afternoons that he and Leena spend in bed. Tucked away in anonymous open space while the galaxy presumes they're both dead, they wallow in boredom inside their luxurious surroundings. It makes for a lot of sex. But perhaps equally importantly, it makes for a lot of closeness. For his longtime loneliness has been more than physical. Finally, he has a sympathetic listening ear, a sounding board for thoughts, and, on occasion, a debate partner. Leena's a lover, a friend, and a confidante. She's on his side in all things, even during the rare moment when she's telling him he's wrong.
In Leena, he has someone to care for. That's important as well. It's good to be needed and Leena needs him. She's as outwardly stoic as ever. Three decades of living in slavery have conditioned her to accept just about anything, for her personal wants and needs were never relevant to any decision. But they are to him. Gaius sets about making sure Leena has everything she needs to ease her transition back to living as his lady. That means a few pretty dresses and trinkets, three shades of lip gloss, and even a new puppy.
Parked in Republic space, they have ready access to the Republic holonet newsfeeds. That means he and Leena can watch the real-time news footage of the unfolding Republic invasion of Zakuul. While they lay about relaxing, the Jedi-led forces systematically dismantle the Eternal Empire. As Satele predicted, the upstart foe crumbles fast without its chain of command and Force-strong leadership. For with the young twin princes dead and Valkorian nowhere to be found, the mighty military machine at the far end of the galaxy is ineffective. It takes a mere six weeks for the Republic to win decisively.
It's a good development for the Sith: the fighting fully occupies the Republic military and it takes out a Sith enemy. It's also the best evidence yet that Darth Vitiate may actually be imprisoned in the Force. For if he's still around, why wouldn't he return to helm the Eternal Empire? Gaius finds himself heartened that his hated father might truly be gone. And that has him seriously entertaining the idea of reemerging onto the political scene himself . . .
But he's considering all his options. Late in life, his old boss Darth Angral sired a son. At one point years ago, Angral asked if he would teach the boy when he came of age. That planted a seed that Gaius now seriously considers: should he take an apprentice? He has no sons of his own. Vitiate's line dies with him now that the twin princes are dead and their little sister—his half-sister he has never met—is living as a virgin nun in a remote Force cult. That's all fine by him. But he wouldn't mind leaving a legacy that isn't flesh and blood. There is a lot he could teach a young man to pass on. Darth Angral had military strategy and tactics in mind, but Gaius is more interested in teaching the Force. In fact, he's contemplating asking Satele Shan to send him a student.
When he broaches the topic with Leena, she is far less scandalized than he expects. She's surprisingly fine for him to teach a Jedi kid to revere the Dark Side. That could have many benefits, she reasons. What Leena gets upset is the notion of him approaching the Jedi Grandmaster. She huffs about Satele, which secretly pleases him.
But that jealousy prompts him to immediately disclose to Leena when Satele one day starts sending him messages. Lots of messages. Well, they're not exactly messages. They're forwarded Republic news articles, internal Jedi Order memos, and political thinktank analyses about the current sorry state of the Sith Empire. The materials all share a common thesis: that the long-term security of the Galactic Republic depends on the still-yet-to-emerge permanent leader of its enemy neighbor.
Most of the materials advocate for a 'peace through strength' two-state solution, with the opposing halves of the galaxy coexisting at a respectful distance. There is little appetite on the Republic side for more war. The Galactic Senate has no intention of annexing the Empire. Mostly, the Republic wants to be left alone. They're tired of wasting billions of credits chasing an enemy they can't beat.
That's not to say that there aren't dissenters to the prevailing view. Predictably, the most vocal warmongering comes from within the Jedi Order. There are still those on the Light Side who advocate for a return to the scorched earth genocide policy of yesteryear. It's a hardline stance that is the revenge of the Sith in reverse.
Satele Shan does not share this view, but as the Jedi Order's Grandmaster she can't completely distance herself from it publicly. Not given the Order's long-ago decision to exile the Dark Jedi who eventually became the Sith. And especially not in light of the Order's starring role murdering Sith innocents in the multi-system pogrom conducted at the conclusion of the Great Hyperspace War. The Jedi Order's history in creating the 'Sith problem' does not go unnoticed. There is much finger pointing from Republic Senators in its direction. But as the current leader of the Light Side orthodoxy, Satele seems to be looking for a compromise path forward. So, she has publicly backed the two-state solution under some dubious religious tenets of balancing the Force. It boils down to this: give the Dark Side its space and leave it alone. It's basically the original exile-the-Dark-infidels strategy from millennia ago, only this time the Jedi are asking for the Sith to agree.
That's where he comes in. Satele wants him to lead the Sith Empire so he can agree to keep the peace and coexist. It's the same pitch she made to him before they parted ways.
"What are you going to tell her?" Leena asks, reading over his shoulder.
"I never respond," he answers.
"She'll know you opened and read the messages," Leena points out.
"That's why she keeps sending them."
Soon, Satele starts sending him Republic intelligence reports and intercepted communications between Sith warlords. They discuss the state of the Sith Empire and the problem of choosing a Dark Lord. Reading them is a good education for what he missed while he was in carbonite. It's also a primer for the current state of alliances between the Dark Side's leading families. The ongoing power struggle has taken its toll, he learns. The years of bloody infighting have claimed the lives of many prominent patricians. That matters because the sentiment among the Dark Side's first families has begun to shift. One intercepted private communication says it concisely; the byline for the message reads: 'Malgus was right. This infighting needs to end.'
His mistake, Gaius realizes, is that he made his move too soon.
Apparently, it took about seven years for the cream of the Empire to arrive at the mindset to accept his ideas. By now, the elite's coffers are feeling pinched. Their family tombs are brimming. They see their influence waning and their civilization declining. Enough is enough, they have concluded. It's time to choose a Dark Lord to rally behind. But who? The only acceptable candidate the prideful patricians are likely to accept is an outsider. Because the Valerians won't stand for a Metellus being Dark Lord. And the Caesars won't ever support a Clodian, but they especially hate the Marius clan . . . These are the centuries old tribal rivalries that Darth Vitiate kept firmly in check. But after his abdication, the long simmering conflicts bloomed into civil war.
It just begs the question that Satele Shan's daily messages poke at incessantly: should he make another move for the throne? Gaius has a nagging sense of guilt that keeps growing now that the Eternal Empire threat is gone and the Republic has become the dominant player in the galaxy. What will become of the Sith? Could he really be content to watch from afar as events play out? He tried that once before, and couldn't go through with it.
But does he really want to fight to lead a crumbling civilization? Might that put him on the wrong side of history? He's safe in his secret love nest in exile. He'd be giving that up for a very uncertain future. Still, it's hard to ignore the suffering back home. Even viewing it through the spin of the Republic press, it's clear that things are depressingly dire for the Sith.
Yawning Gaius wanders in search of caf one morning and finds Leena, standing barefoot in her robe, glaring at the live broadcast newsfeed playing on the screen in the kitchen. The lead story is the war, like usual.
"I'll turn it off," she volunteers.
"No, leave it on. I want to see. What's happening?" The ticker at the bottom of the screen says its breaking news.
Leena shakes her head in disgust. "It's more of the same in the occupied territories. There's always fighting there."
"What system is this?"
"Someplace called Gaza. It's a refugee colony, I think. It's being bombarded because the locals resisted. They murdered soldiers they took as hostages to demand concessions the Republic denied."
He shrugs. "That's how asymmetrical warfare works. It's nasty and ruthless. You fight any way you can."
He pours himself a cup of caf and stands beside her to watch. They listen as the news anchor explains that the Republic army operation shown live onscreen will clear out known terrorist hideouts. The wily Sith operate out of schools and hospitals, using ordinary people as human shields. That makes the necessary work of keeping the peace regrettably brutal, the news anchor sighs. The Sith brought this on themselves, the righteous woman contends. Because if they're not militants, they are sympathizers for the militants. And either way, that makes them dangerous.
Leena groans at the characterization. "We tortured and killed a few of their soldiers they call peacekeepers, and the Republic retaliates by killing several thousand civilians." Sure enough, as the drone camera footage pans across the widespread scene of urban destruction, it's clear that the dead include many innocents.
Gaius doesn't flinch. He himself has done far worse on many occasions. Proportionality isn't really a Sith concept.
"We do the same," he tells Leena with a cynicism borne of a lifetime spent at war. "The only difference is that we don't pretend we don't target civilians. One man's terrorist is another man's patriot."
"Yeah? Tell me that dead baby was a terrorist!" outraged Leena huffs as she points at the screen. As usual, she lets the news bother her. She's all heart, and can't remain detached and objective about these things.
"At this point, the Republic doesn't see that dead baby as a baby," he tells her. "It's one less kid who will grow up to be a Sith soldier they will need to kill in a few years." For if truth is the first casualty of war, then empathy is surely the second. After over three decades of on-again, off-again conflict between the Republic and the Empire, both sides are deeply embittered.
'Othering' the enemy by labeling them as terrorists is a sound strategy, Gaius judges. Because a slaughter isn't a slaughter if those being slaughtered are at fault, if they've been effectively dehumanized or tried and convicted in the Republic media echo chamber. If nobody is a civilian, nobody can be a victim. And if there are no victims, there is no moral quandary for Jedi generals to debate behind closed doors.
"They're not any less brutal than we are. But they are a lot more hypocritical. There is Darkness in the Jedi. Just like there is Light amid the Sith. The Force is far less pure that we want it to be," Gaius laments. So much of the dogma he was raised on is wrong. But the Jedi aren't any more correct. The older he gets, the less he thinks he understands about the Force.
Leena is insightful, like always. She perceives the defensiveness that underlies the Republic's media message. "Part of why they hate us is because we make them act like this in order to win . . ."
"That's right. The Republic wants war to be moral. They want there to be a good side and a bad side."
"Like the Force . . ."
"Yes. But that's too simple of an explanation. It ignores nuance and context. It's also the wrong way to understand conflict. War is fundamentally about—"
"Power. War is about power."
"Yes." His girl's a former slave, so she knows all about power, having been powerless for years. "Power isn't the dynamic to explain every relationship, but it's impossible to ignore."
The news footage shifts to show pictures of civilians fleeing the carnage on foot. It's a chaotic scene of panic. "Apparently, they issued a warning first, so that's supposed to make it okay to kill anyone who didn't leave," Leena complains. She grits her teeth and hisses, "Someone needs to stop this." She turns to stare him down. "Someone needs to stop this."
"Yes." Someone does.
Leena's looking to him. No, she's looking through him. Suddenly uncomfortably guilty, Gaius walks away and mutters, "You were right. Turn it off. This isn't news. It happens every day, just on a different world."
That's the closest Leena comes to confronting him about his apathy for another week or so. In the meantime, she continues her habit of voraciously watching and reading everything she can about the state of the Empire. His Leena is a Sith apologist to the core. He has little doubt that were he not around, she'd be using the new pistols he bought her to terrorize the Republic army herself.
But instead, she's here with him. For him. She truly believes that she was resurrected for his sake and that her proper place is by his side. It adds a new dimension to her devotion. Gaius knows Leena will never leave him, no matter what happens.
But that doesn't mean she's his meek helpmate. The next time the issue of his role in the future of the Empire arises they're in bed. Leena is laying in his arms. Her head is resting on his chest. His fingers absently stroke her lekku. It's time for some pillow talk. But, naturally, with them the afterglow chatter is not endearments, it's conspiracy. And this time, Leena is far more direct about her views.
She blurts out, "You should do it," like it's something that she's given much thought to and is nervous for how he will receive it. "I think you should do it."
He's confused. "Do what?" The topic is a complete non sequitur under the circumstances.
"Fix the Empire. Lead the Empire."
He says nothing.
Leena yawns and settles deeper into the crook of his shoulder. "If I were comfortable that you could trust that Jedi woman, I'd say you should let the Republic back you for Emperor. It will save you having to make a lot of promises to gain support from other Lords. Plus, it will help you move faster. That seems like a sensible approach."
"You didn't think so at the time."
"If they out you, you just deny it. I mean, they're the Republic—why would anyone believe them? I say you use it to your advantage. Argue that you must be the right Lord for the job if the Republic wants to preempt you from leading . . ."
Gaius says nothing. He's thought the very same thing. In his mind, he's already played out numerous scenarios.
"They way I see it, you're not conspiring with the enemy, you're manipulating them for your own gain—and that's for the betterment of the Empire. So, in a way, accepting their help is very Sith. You're not betraying our values at all . . . more like exploiting an opportunity . . ."
Leena's clearly hung up on the issue of conspiring with the enemy. He's not troubled by that at all. He let go of those scruples before he approached Satele Shan to attack Vitiate.
"I trust her. I trust Satele."
Leena lifts her head and counters, "You trusted her to ally against a common enemy. That's not the same as trusting her to help you help the Empire."
"True."
"She's only proposing this because she thinks it gives her leverage over the next Dark Lord. But it might work out all the same . . . " Leena leaves the thought hanging, waiting for him to respond.
After a long moment, he sighs, "I'm not the man for the job. The Sith need a young, bold hero. I had my chance."
"There aren't any young, bold heroes stepping up. So far, it's been a parade of guys decades your senior who have claimed the job."
She's right, of course.
"Are we just supposed to wait around for this mythical Sith'ari to appear and save us? Because I worry that he's not coming, and we're going to have to save ourselves . . . with the help of the damned Republic too . . ." she grumbles. "But whatever it takes, it takes. And I think it's going to take you."
Leena is telling him that he doesn't have to choose between love and power; he can have both. It ought to encourage him, but still . . . he hesitates.
"Afraid to fail?" she asks gently.
"I've failed before." He's an expert at failure.
"Afraid to die?"
"Not really." He's used to danger.
"Afraid for me?"
"Always. But the danger is there for you even if I do nothing."
"Then what's stopping you? Because I will support you in this."
She's just given him the permission to do what he longs to do but cannot bring himself to admit. For as blunt as he is, and as aggressive as is his nature, there are some things that are hard to speak aloud. What's truly stopping him from another run at the Dark throne? It's not the very real risks Leena has probed. It's something far more frightening to behold.
"If I do this . . . what if I succeed . . . what happens then?"
"You rule the Sith. You rebuild the Empire."
"Would that make me my father all over again?"
There. He's said it. This is his ultimate fear—becoming Carl Veradun. Gaius has been a student of history long enough to know that many heroes end up becoming the very villains they swore to destroy.
Gaius also knows the tale that no one else left alive does. Fading Darth Azamin had croaked out the incredible true story of the uneducated, never trained hayseed colonial farm boy who Dark Lord Marka Ragnos appointed a Sith Lord at the tender age of thirteen. His father had been the sorcerer Darth Tenebrae back then when he witnessed the Sith's last disastrous defeat at the hands of the Republic over a thousand years ago. Frustrated with the ineptitude of the Dark Side elites, his father took matters into his own hands, murdering all remaining viable candidates for the Dark throne with one cataclysmic Force spell. Then, he set about recreating all that was lost in secret in a far corner of the galaxy where the Republic didn't bother to patrol. To hear Lord Azamin tell it, his father never wanted the job of Dark Lord. But he turned out to be unexpectedly good at the job of Emperor, so he stuck around.
It's annoying but true: for all his father's many personal shortcomings, Vitiate was an excellent administrator and an experienced and accomplished leader.
Gaius wonders now: did he make a mistake not accepting Vitiate's offer back on Zakuul? Because it occurs to him that who the Sith really need right now is Emperor Vitiate, not Emperor Malgus.
And to become Emperor Malgus, will he need to become Emperor Vitiate? This sojourn in exile has started to feel like a slow unfolding reckoning with his father's legacy. Gaius worries that to confront the future, he needs to come to terms with the past. But will that mean throwing away happiness? His current situation—free of all threats to bask in long days with Leena—is as close to happily ever after as he will ever get.
Leena is already making plans. "If you were to make another push for the throne, how would it start? Do you contact the Jedi?"
"No. Not yet. Angral. It starts with Angral. I trust him. He will tell me straight what he thinks I should do."
"And if he supports the idea?"
"I probably approach Severin next, if he's still around."
"That means Lady Cassis."
"Yes. You'll need to stay in the background." He can't upset his official wife's influential father.
Leena nods. "I figured as much."
Gaius goes silent. Waiting for her to speak more. How will Leena feel about there being a public Lady Malgus and a private Lady Malgus? It's a scenario that's sure to get complicated.
But Leena shrugs it off. "I'm fine with her. I've been your side chick. I'm fine with it."
"I wish there were another way . . ."
"There isn't. It's fine. I mean it. It's fine."
Leena abruptly rolls over and gets out of bed. Gaius watches her naked form wander across the room.
"Where are you going?"
"To fetch your comlink." She locates it in the pocket of his discarded pants that are laying on the floor next to their sleeping puppy. "Here." She tosses it to him. "Text Lord Angral."
"Now?" This conversation has gone past a hard nudge and become a push. Leena is apparently not taking no for an answer. "What do I say?"
"That the reports of your death have been greatly exaggerated."
Leena's smiling and giggling, but it's not a laughing matter. This is deadly serious stuff. "If I contact him, it will reveal that I'm alive."
She nods. "You trust him. Ask for a call to talk."
"That won't work. This kind of thing has to be done in person. Otherwise, he'll never believe it's me. This will look like a trap."
"Okay. Then ask for a meeting. Where is he?"
"With the fifth fleet probably near Dromund Kaas."
"So, we set course for Dromund Kaas."
"If he says yes."
"He'll say yes." Leena puts hands on her hips and urges, "Gaius, let's do this. Let's go home. Enough hiding out here in exile watching others suffer."
"You're sure you're up for this?" he frets.
"I'm sure."
"It will mean that I talk to Satele Shan a lot."
"I know." Leena climbs back into bed and looks him in the eye. "Stop stalling. Go save the Empire, my Lord."
When she puts it like that, how can he refuse? Gaius takes a deep breath and provisionally agrees. "Alright. Let's see where things go . . ."
"The Force will be with you," Leena is certain. "The Force will protect you."
"How do you know?"
"Because you were born for this, my Lord."
He doesn't like the sound of that. Gaius warns sternly, "No one can ever know who my father is."
"I know. But we do. Go build a bigger, better Empire than his."
THE END