Dromund Kaas
Sith Crypt
Secret Exit
"Well, that was fun," Acina snorted, stepping over the still smoking body of Minister Lorman. His head lay at an awkward angle, nearly unrecognizable from the hole that Fynta had blasted through it while Acina held him suspended above the floor.
It had been a poorly conceived power play. While Lorman acted like a weasley spy, Saresh used the distraction to seize the Alliance. When the smoke cleared, they would announce a temporary truce and come away with higher ranks than either could have managed on their own. It worked, in theory. Why Lorman thought he could take out the Empress and Alliance commander with only three Force-null thugs as backup still confounded Fynta.
"Let's not do it again," Fynta answered, weaving through the corpses of Lorman's men instead of going over them as their empress had. While not superstitious, she'd heard rumors of Force ghosts inhabiting burial sites. After experiencing contact with one on Yavin 4, Fynta wanted out of the crypt they'd sheltered in.
Acina led Fynta up a spiral stairwell, chattering about the history of such places across the planet. "I believe Darth Nox is in your company, yes?" Fynta didn't answer, but the empress didn't appear to expect one. "You should inquire about her experiences on the topic, I've heard interesting things." Again, Fynta remained quiet, but she didn't doubt the validity of the claim. While the Sith Cathar made for a powerful ally, there was an unhinged feel to her.
With every step, the adrenaline of battle ebbed from Fynta's system to be replaced by the fear of what Aric might have done in her absence. It was easy to forget the threats made aboard the Thunderclap while battling for survival, but now she couldn't keep them at bay. Would Aric really risk a rescue attempt in the heart of Imperial territory? How long had she and the Acina been missing? Three or four hours tops. Surely Theron could manage to keep her husband safe for that long. Fynta huffed a sardonic breath of laughter that didn't garner the empress's interest. She should have never agreed to let Aric come.
"Do you hear that?" Acina asked, triggering Fynta's mind and body into synchronicity. It trampled over her inner dialogue and silenced any emotions attached to it. She listened, heart thumping with anticipation of another fight.
A distant hum, one similar to that of the lightsaber Acina currently used to illuminate their path, echoed down from above. Raising her blaster in a two handed grip, Fynta motioned that she'd cover Acina's advance. The stairway opened to one side, so they could jump if necessary. Fynta glanced over the edge and decided that would be a last resort, more of a you'll never take me alive sentiment.
"There's a door," Acina hissed in a voice barely above a whisper. "And, I believe someone on the other side." Fynta's muscles tensed. They'd be at a disadvantage on the stairs, but Acina wasn't to be trifled with, and Fynta had one more clip left for her Verpine.
When the door became visible around the next turn, Fynta barely snatched Acina's robes back before the empress leaped into an attack. A familiar, red blade severed the last hinge, and Fynta plastered herself to the wall when the door flew past. Acina managed to deflect the projectile, but Fynta's heart beat against her ribs all the same.
"Good reflexes." A smirk pulled at Acina's painted lips. "I'm impressed."
"Don't be," Fynta grumbled, leaning away from the safety of the wall to study the gouge where the metal slab had struck the stairs. "Lana has a thing about doors."
Acina might have chuckled, but the sound was lost in Lana's cool satisfaction. "Ah, there you are."
"What took you so long," Fynta asked as she holstered her sidearm. She was stiff, achy, and in need of a hot shower followed by a large meal.
Lana stepped aside in time for a heavily armored figure to plow through. Aric ignored the empress and hit Fynta without slowing. His embrace crushed her against his armor, pinning her between him and the wall that had sheltered her a moment earlier. Fynta's grumpiness dimmed in the wake of her relief that he was unharmed.
Theron appeared next, hands flapping and eyes rolled towards the ceiling as if to say that Aric was Fynta's problem now. She smiled with the knowledge that there were people out there who would take on the haunted forests of Dromund Kaas to rescue her, even if they complained later. It had taken years to accept, but Fynta finally understood that she wasn't alone anymore. Maybe, she never really had been.
"This must be the husband," Acina commented with a matronaly smile befitting an empress. A look passed between her and Lana, some Force mysticism that Fynta would never understand, before Acina clapped her hands. "It's good to see young love reunited again. Now, shall we take this reunion elsewhere? I have more traitors to roust."
"Of course," Lana answered, offering a hand to the empress to help her up the final step. To Fynta's surprise, Acina accepted and allowed herself to be led from the crypt onto a waiting shuttle. Theron followed, watching the women ahead of him with the sort of disinterest that signaled his listening implants were dialed to maximum strength.
Fynta left Theron to his spying and fell in beside Aric. "I brought this for you." Her helmet hung from his belt, hidden until he lifted one arm so that she could unhook it.
Comfortable silence enveloped Fynta, bathing her in the familiar light of her HUD when her helmet locked into place. Aric's incoming icon blinked, and Fynta answered immediately. "Saresh is making a bid for power." Those were not the first words that she expected to hear from her husband. The ones that followed, however, brought a smile to her lips. "And, don't do that again. You're going to send me to an early grave with stunts like that."
Fynta lived for the gruff, love filled admonishments that only Aric could manage. "When we get back, no missions for at least a week," she promised. It still amazed Fynta that she'd forgotten the little nuances that made her relationship with him unbreakable. Then, it enraged her that Valkorion has managed it so easily. She'd kill the chakaar; one day.
"I'll hold you to that," Aric answered. His voice was deep, the way it sounded when he was struggling with his emotions, and it doused the flames of Fynta's rage. She wanted to see his face, to sink her fingers into the fur at the back of his neck and pull him into a desperate kiss that blocked out the rest of the world. Fynta settled for interlocking their gloved fingers and squeezing. Aric's vizor tipped towards their hands before returning the gesture. It was enough for now.
Positioning them at the back of the shuttle and away from the Sith, Theron cleared his throat. "I'm assuming by the silence that you two are speaking privately, but it's time to rejoin the class."
Fynta activated her external speakers and motioned for Theron to go on. Normally, she'd have followed it with some sort of inappropriate or childish gesture, but she was too tired to bother. Theron squatted, back pressed against the opposite wall so that he could keep his balance while Acina piloted them to Kaas City. "This whole thing was orchestrated to put Saresh back in authority. I'm sure Jorgan has filled you in on the big picture, so we've got to act fast."
"I can't say that I'm surprised," Fynta answered, noting the way Aric tensed at her side. "The woman's been power hungry since we first met her on Taris, what...ten, twelve years ago? Even then, she viewed Havoc Squad as her personal mercenary unit. It must have rankled when we outgrew her command."
Fynta remembered that the Twi'lek turned an unhealthy shade of green at the reminder that Havoc didn't report to her. They'd helped with a few problems that had the local troops overwhelmed while waiting on Gaff to return Fynta's calls, but she had stayed true to the objective. "Have you contacted the base yet?"
Theron nodded. "Aygo knows to keep an eye out for her." His gaze flicked to Jorgan, then back to Fynta. Habit formed from years of working with the spy drew her attention to his hands. Theron signaled that there might be a problem, and Fynta's gut tightened. His tone remained conversational. "As soon as we're back on the ship, I need to brief you on a few things."
Fynta nodded, and Theron excused himself to check on Lana. Using her cameras, she studied Aric. His helmet leaned against the bulkhead of the ship, offering no indication of his own wellbeing. "You okay, riduur?"
The comm in Fynta's helmet clicked, followed by a long sigh. "I am now." His hand slid onto Fynta's thigh and she wrapped both of hers around it. Aric sounded older, more weary than she'd expected, but Fynta knew better than to push when they were so deep into enemy territory. Once back on Odessen, she would lock them in a room to clear the air. They just had to get that far.
The Thunderclap
En route to Odessen
Theron didn't usually follow Fynta to her room, but with Aric returning to their quarters with a headache and the meeting with Acina having gone to shit, he had pulled Fynta away to touch base on matters. Namely, how they planned to handle Saresh once they reached Odessen.
"You can't shoot on sight, Fynta," Theron called to the stubborn woman ahead of him. Fynta had gotten fed up with the impromptu meeting and announced that she was going to take a nap. However, Theron wasn't done arguing. "It'll destroy morale for the Alliance to see their commander—"
Something shattered against the wall, halting both Fynta and Theron for a heartbeat outside her door. She moved first, rushing open it while Theron readied his blaster even though he knew that they were alone on the ship. Only Lana had traveled with them, and she was piloting.
Stepping in, Theron swept the room for hostiles before settling on a haggard looking Cathar beside the rumpled bed. It didn't take long to identify the source of the sound. A lamp lay against the wall, broken into three pieces with the bolts that had held it to the desk still clinging to pits of wood and metal shaving.
"Aric?" Fynta hurried to her husband, cupping his face to check for injuries. Theron hadn't gotten used to seeing the Cathar with his rough eye patch yet. It made him look more feral than usual, unhinged even. The snarl that he answered Fynta with only solidified that image.
"Did you know?" Jorgan growled the words, teeth dangerously close to Fynta's throat. Theron would never get used to that, either. He'd always thought Fynta was the more dangerous of the two, but the hatred in that pale, blue eye made Theron question his earlier assumption.
"Know what?" Fynta asked, hands still pressed to either side of the Cathar's face. Theron holstered his blaster and nudged the lamp with his boot. Squatting to examine the damage, Theron flicked and what looked like a piece of a durasteel mounting strip.
Someone cleared their throat, and Theron realized for the first time the Elara Dorne waited patiently on the holo next to the hole where the lamp had been secured. She stood with hands behind her back, ever the poised Imperial officer regardless of her loyalties. Despite being only inches tall, Dorne managed to convey a larger presence with the lift of her chin. "No one else knew, Aric. I was waiting for the right time."
Jorgan rounded on Dorne, yanking away from Fynta's grasp with enough force to jerk her with him. "There isn't any time left." It wasn't quite a yell, but his tone made the hair on Theron's neck stand up. Jorgan kicked the desk Elara's holo perched on and jabbed a finger at the woman. "You should have told me immediately."
"You've been in non stop combat, I thought that perhaps I could settle this without adding another burden to your shoulders." Elara sighed and dropped her arms. "I was wrong, and I cannot apologize enough for it. In fifteen days, Shillet will be remanded back into the Republic's custody, and we need to focus on what to do about it. You can hate me later."
Fynta pressed her palms against the desk surface, seemingly unfazed by its state of disrepair. "What about you? Can your mock up some papers—"
The quick jerk of Dorne's head cut Fynta off. "They won't consider me as an option because of my ties to you. I'm grateful that they haven't come for Tayl as it is."
Pressing thumb and forefinger to her eyes, Fynta blew out a breath. "Okay, start from the beginning. Someone tell me what the hell is going on." She squatted while Jorgan paced the small space behind her, looking Dorne in the eye as best as possible through a holocall.
Aric punched the bulkhead, fist clanging against the metal, before he made another pass to the center of the room. "I've been declared an unfit guardian," he growled. Hearing the words spoken changed the Cathar's entire aura. Fear and disbelief entered his eyes, face falling as the rage drained away. It was a picture more frightening than the primal fury of moments before. "They are going to take my daughter."
Jorgan crumpled onto the mattress and braced his head in his hands. Theron quietly pushed to his feet and positioned himself near the open door. The defeat that washed off the Cathar made his fingers twitch with the need to be active. He'd seen the narrow range of Aric Jorgan's emotions: bitter, threatening, even relieved, but never this. Never, broken. Elara looked away. "I've tried everything. I—I don't know what else to do."
When Fynta shifted to Jorgan's side, Theron hesitated between staying and leaving. This felt too private for witnesses, more intimate than the kisses which he'd observed more times than he cared to remember.
Placing a hand on Aric's knee, Fynta spoke in a voice unlike anything that Theron had heard from her. "I won't let them." Aric glanced up and met his wife's eyes; after a moment he nodded. The grin that showed too many teeth looked more natural on her face, but he could see the tightness in it. "Besides, I made that girl a promise. One I don't intend to break."
Jorgan seemed to come back to life with the next inhale; his posture straightened as he cleared the thickness from his throat. Theron realized that all the man needed was the hope of one, annoying, insane woman to believe that everything would work out in the end. He had always assumed that Lana had worked some Sithy magic to make people follow her chosen Outlander, but now Theron saw that the magic rested in Fynta, a woman who made things happen even when it went against her advisor's warnings.
Standing, Fynta's gaze settled on Theron, but her words were meant for Elara. "Dorne, you might want to hang up now. Plausible deniability and all that."
"Understood, sir. Good luck." The comm clicked and the miniature medic disappeared, throwing the room into semi-darkness
Theron knew that Fynta had something stupid planned before she opened her mouth. He'd seen that look too many times in the past. "I'll get a team together," he answered before she could get to the details. "Infiltrate and extract?"
Fynta nodded, one hand resting on Aric's shoulder. "Nothing fancy. This is a silent op, need to know only."
"I've got just the people in mind." Theron started for the door, half eager to leave Fynta to deal with Aric while another part of his mind thrummed with strategic solutions. Fynta wouldn't care if her extraction team was composed mostly of Imperials, so long as they got the job done. Jorgan...didn't need to know. Luckily, Theron knew of two in particular who had infiltrated the Republic homeworld before.
Theron let himself out, leaving Fynta to pick up the pieces of her husband and started down the hall. Stepping into the conference room, he plugged into the viewscreen and contacted Zolah directly. While he waited, Theron fiddled with a few of the computer components and cringed at the outdated software now powering the once cutting edge ship.
Thunderclaps had been replaced in recent years, and this one had been more neglected than most. Theron remembered the day that he'd finally pinned it down, hoping to give Fynta some semblance of normality after discovering that she'd missed half a decade. There had been vague interest that Theron had chalked up to the disorientation of being out of time. He should have known better.
"What is wrong?" Zolah's clipped accent cut through Theron's regrets. He shook the morose thoughts away and focused on his lover, noting that she still wore the same clothes as the last time he'd spoken with her.
"Is Vector there?" Zolah activated visual comms to show the man in question stepping out of his room, hair still damp from a shower. At least one of them was taking care of themselves, Theron thought, though he kept the remark to himself and sent Zolah the file he'd started. "I need your help."
Zolah sat cross legged on the sofa while Vector leaned forward to peer over her shoulder. A pang of need wormed through Theron's chest at the sight. Not the sexual tension from when he'd first moved in with the two imperials, but a comfortable warmth that made him ache for home.
When Vector's brow scrunched, Theron took that as his cue to begin. "The Republic declared Jorgan unfit and plans to retain custody of his daughter." He'd always found it easiest to blurt things like this out, then deal with reactions after. To his surprise, Zolah snorted.
"It took them bloody well long enough." When Theron's jaw fell open, the Chiss rolled those solid, red eyes. "Come now, this can't be a surprise. He betrayed his government and Fynta personally insulted your father; they'd be fools not to retaliate. Had he been Imperial, my first course of action would be to secure possible leverage points."
"Possible lever—" Theron squeezed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Never mind." It was easy to forget that this sort of fucked up stuff that was commonplace in the Empire. He reminded himself that their invitation to life together didn't require that he join it.
Zolah tapped at her screen, speaking without looking up. "I suppose they are finally ready for an extraction?"
"You—" Theron felt like he had walked into a room with bad intel and no weapons. A single glance at Vector confirmed his suspicions. "Damn, you do. You've already got a plan in the works." Neither had bothered to share it with him, turning that comfortable sensation in his stomach sour.
"Only a shell," Vector answered, straightening to full height. "Zolah foresaw this eventuality and has determined the best method of retrieving someone—or several someones—from Republic custody. We saw no reason to add another worry to your list of concerns. It was..." Vector paused as if searching for a hard to grasp word. "My suggestion."
Theron let the slight pass given Vector's reasons and flopped into a chair. "Well damn." He waved a hand at the two larger than life imperials. "Alright, show me what you've got."
Odessen
Shuttle Bay
Torian sat on a stack of crates behind one of the ships slotted for maintenance. He wasn't hiding, but he preferred to stay out of the way when making personal calls. The barracks offered little privacy and he'd turned down the option for a private room since he didn't use it for more than sleeping. So long as he didn't interfere with their work, the mechanics didn't mind when Torian slipped into a quiet corner to contact his clan.
Verin bounced his four month old daughter and made faces while Torian did his best not to be entertained. He failed, coughing loud enough to draw Verin back into the conversation. "Everything's still standing, alor," Verin reported without breaking eye contact with Josi. She had a full head of black, curly hair and the biggest, brown eyes that Torian had ever seen. The child enchanted everyone who met her, and Torian was no exception. Without kids of his own, he settled for doting quietly on the ones in his clan.
Keshal had managed things while Torian brought a mixture of clans to aid with the assault on Voss. Given his ties to Fynta through her brother, and lack of family on Manda'yaim, Vizla saw Torian as the perfect liaison. It wasn't all bad, though he missed the people who'd become family over the years. The Mando'ade on base didn't see him as the son of a traitor, at least. He was Torian Cadera, Alor of the Cadera Clan, small, but influential.
"And Tranx?" Torian asked, pulling himself out of his own thoughts.
The boy had been furious about being left behind to guard the settlement, even more so when he found out that it had been a direct order from Torian. While not opposed to sending young warriors into battle, Tranx and the others of his generation weren't ready for the scale of which Voss had been hit. Torian would have sent them into a massacre and never forgiven himself. They were young and impetuous, lacking the ability to use their buckets for more than a battering ram. He hoped more time with Keshal would temper their spirits.
Verin sighed. "He's not as mad as before, but Keshal said that he hasn't had much to say. He and Zula have kept to themselves."
Torian nodded. "Send some of the younger ones here, let them get a taste of battle's aftermath. I can task them around the base and make them feel useful. Not to mention, Fynta can find something for a bunch of Mando kids to do."
Verin's answering smile was grateful. "He has been bugging me about visiting again. Plenty of mountains and wilderness to patrol." The man's voice ended on an edge that Torian knew all too well. Verin cleared his throat, features shifting from goofy father to concerned brother. "How is she?"
It went without saying what Verin really wanted to know. Though Torian hadn't brought the matter up with the commander, he knew of the Sith spirit slumbering in her mind. Valkorion, former Vitiate of the Sith Empire, had stolen her memories and latched onto her lifeforce. No one knew how entangled to the two souls were, only that she struggled daily to hold him at bay. The latest intel was that Valkorion had abandoned Fynta in the swamp, but Verin confided in Torian that Fynta was having nightmares again. He'd requested a covert watch over his sister and reports if she began to behave abnormally.
"Running herself into the ground searching for Arcann." Torian bent one knee to rest his gauntlet over it. "They took a detour to Dromund Kaas. Something about meeting with the empress."
Verin snorted, and Josi beamed at the noise. "Because my sister and Sith make the perfect concoction." He sighed, then blew air through his lips in an attempt to coax a rare laugh from the baby. She was growing fast, hitting most of the milestones early. "Just have her call me when she gets in, yeah? Shabla woman never checks her messages."
Movement caught Torain's eye, and he glanced up to spy Noara peeking around the landing gear. "Gotta go, Verin. I'll talk to her. Let me know when you've got a timetable for the trip here." Ending the call, Torian slid off the crates with a smile. "You'd make a terrible spy."
Noara's cheeks colored, giving her normally pale skin a becoming blush. "I didn't mean to, but there's something going on." She pressed her lips into a tight smile. "Was that Fynta's niece?"
"It was. Name's Josi. I'll introduce you next time." Torian rounded the wheel to find a larger than expected gathering in the center of the hangar. Guards in Republic gear stood on the stage where air traffic controllers usually worked, weapons cradled in their arms. His enthusiasm at being visited by his favorite Jedi turned to concern. "Any ideas what's going on?"
Noara shook her head, tucking a piece of dark hair behind her ear. It was pulled into a tight bundle on the back of her neck, but strands had come loose to frame her face. She must have been training in the enclave before coming for Torian. A light sheen of sweat still glistened on her bare arms, and Torian had to force himself not to let his eyes wander over other exposed areas. "Someone said Saresh, but that can't be right, can it?"
Torian knew the name, but didn't have an opinion on the woman. She was the Republic's problem, worlds away and she had little to nothing to do with them. He remembered her from Taris, and of course, Cinlat had been directly responsible for the woman's promotion with that stunt she pulled with the former Chancellor, but that had been after Torian's time. He'd only heard about it years later from Verin when Torian asked how they had gotten their names off the Republic's most wanted lists.
"Let's check it out." Torain's hand settled on the small of Noara's back out of habit. During his time on Odessen, he had spent most of the free moments with her. Something about the Jetii tugged at Torian in a way that he'd never experienced. Even when he didn't actively seek Noara out, Torian found himself orbiting wherever she was.
The irony wasn't lost on Torian. He'd told Cinlat years ago that any woman he fell for would have to be Mandalorian and a better shot than him. He'd thought that she'd fit that description, but the universe had other plans for the famed hunter. Noara was the complete opposite. She knew nothing about his culture, and Torian wasn't sure if Jetiise knew how to hold a blaster, much less fire one. But, she learned. Noara hungered for the sort of family and comradery that Mandalorian culture offered. Fynta's earlier comment about the woman being Mando'ade without realizing it made more sense with each passing day, but Torian didn't want Noara to change too much.
Guiding Noara towards the front of the growing mass, Torian crossed his arms and waited to see what would happen. Noara shifted, clear eyes darting from face to face with obvious apprehension. She leaned closer to whisper. "There is a lot of fear and anger here."
Torian took in the people closest, noting the tense muscles and frantic whispers. They'd heard something while he was on the call with Verin, something that made them antsy. Torian took a step closer to Noara in case the collective mood turned towards mob mentality. She didn't need protecting, but the closer proximity made him feel better about the potential for violence.
A Twi'lek stepped into view, situating herself behind an official looking podium that hadn't been there before. "Members of the Alliance." She cleared her throat, waiting for silence before continuing. "As many of you have already heard, your commander is dead."
Torian wasn't sure what was said after that because his ears buzzed with disbelief. His mind rebelled against the possibility that Fynta was gone. Not after she'd clawed her way back from the abyss. Torian's next thoughts went to Jorgan. According to rumors around the base, this made Fynta's third brush with death. Osik'la, how was Torian supposed to tell Verin that the sister who'd just returned from the dead was lost to the Manda again?
"There are dark times ahead." Saresh droned one, grabbing Torian's attention only when Noara's fingers wrapped around his wrist. Her other hand pressed against her lips, eyes wide with loss. An unexpected anger bubbled to the surface with each word from the Twi'leks mouth while she discussed the future of an Alliance that didn't belong to her. "But, fear not, I have come to offer you a beacon!"
"Bit cliche for my taste." Torian glanced to his left, reprimand on the tip of his tongue, then swallowed the words when he saw who it belonged to.
Fynta stood with arms crossed over her chest, hard, blue eyes focused on the stage. Noara let out a faint squeak while Torian stared in disbelief. Questions rolled over one another like an ocean wave, but none managed to form words. Noara's fingers tightened, but Torian barely felt it. With a wink, Fynta started for the platform.
A whispered gasp rippled through the gathered members as Fynta edged through the crowd. The exact moment when Saresh realized who approached was evident by the sentence left hanging in the middle of a word. Torian watched, stepping closer to Aric and lowering his voice. "What's going on?"
"Just sit back and enjoy the show," the Cathar answered, lips twitching into a tight smirk even though his eye burned with rage. There was no humor in that expression, and the eye patch made the man look more savage than normal. Torian watched, sliding his fingers around Noara's, as the supposedly dead commander of the Alliance mounted the stage in front of close to a hundred witnesses.
Saresh let out a long breath, gathering her notes while she addressed Fynta. "I assume you know everything, then." She didn't beg or apologize, but faced her adversary with an indifference that hinged on suicidal. Fynta stopped directly in front of the former Chancellor, one hand resting on the grip of her blaster. With shoulders hunched forward, her eyes never wavered from their target.
When Saresh inhaled to speak, Fynta struck. What little of the Twi'lek's excuse that made it past her teeth was lost in spray of blood when Fynta's fist connected. Aric released a huff that might have been a laugh were it not for the rumbling undertones. None of the Republic soldiers on the stage moved to intercept Fynta.
Saresh staggered into the waiting arms of Theron Shan. "What do you want to do with her?" Torian could see the spy's fingers digging into the woman's flesh. There was a past here that Torian was ignorant of, years of pent up animosity for some sleight that hadn't made it through the Mandalorian rumor mill.
Fynta jerked her blaster free and pressed it to the chancellor's head in a single, fluid motion. Her lips curled into an inaudible snarl that didn't appear to phase the Twi'lek it was directed at.
"Execution, I expect." Saresh spat blood onto the polished steel platform next to Fynta's boot, words slurred by rapidly swelling lips. "It's what Vaylin would do. It's what I would do."
"You get to live," Fynta answered in an emotionless tone as she slammed the weapon back into her hip holster. Only a slight curling of her lip gave any clue as to the fury she held at bay. "A long life as our esteemed guest, or until we think of something more creative. Theron, you know which cell to use." Her gaze flicked to the Saresh's escort. "Join up or clear out. You've got thirty minutes to decide."
While Theron ushered Saresh away with biting remarks about her accommodations, Torian watched her entourage huddle to discuss their options. He didn't realize that Fynta was finished until Aric stepped forward. She hopped from the stage with a weary thump and headed in their direction. Fynta's eyes never left Aric, making it clear to the crowd that the show was over. They dispersed with murmured well wishes and congratulatory pats on the shoulder, but Torian stayed.
Aric opened his arms a second before Fynta filled them. Torian took that to mean that they had overcome whatever hurdle Fynta had struggled with on Darvannis. At last, the tension in his chest released enough for him to manage a forced chuckle. "Verin says to call him when you get a chance."
Fynta nodded, offering a fist to Noara in greeting. The Jetii responded in the same way as someone who had been woken from sleep. Her closed fingers barely bumped Fynta's, eyes still wide. "What's this about a special cell?" Torian asked when it became apparent that the smaller woman didn't have anything pressing to say.
"It was mine," Fynta replied, looping her arm through Aric's while grinning at Torian. "I couldn't figure out how to escape, so, should be decent enough for Saresh."
"That's the one you shoved Theron in?" Aric's lack of surprise that his wife had been imprisoned by her own people would have been comical if it didn't cost Torian fifty more credits. Verin had bet that she'd be tied up before the end of the war by her War council. Torian needed to learn to stop gambling against Verin.
Fynta gave an awkward laugh. "We don't talk about it." She cringed. "I hit him with a rock when he offered me leniency and locked him inside. Took a bit for him to get over that one."
Aric chuckled, watching as the maintenance crew cleared the podium from the deck so that the mechanics could get back to work. There was a distant look in the Cathar's eye that made Torian feel like an intruder. His stomach growled with a reminder that he'd missed breakfast and gained Noara's attention.
"On that note," Torian began, keeping his eyes carefully away from Aric. "I'm sure you're tired from an eventful trip and the council will want a debrief soon. Better rest while you can."
"Torian's right." Aric's rumbled words sounded too eager to have been a passing agreement. He'd been looking for a reason to steal Fynta away from the spectacle they'd returned to. "We've had a long couple of days and my head's killing me. Time to turn in."
A strange expression flitted over Fynta's face. One that Torian didn't know well enough to decipher. It was gone in a blink to be replaced by her signature grin. "Noara, I'll call you later about that sparring match we had to reschedule. Keep a spot open for me?" The Jetii nodded, finally shedding the shock of her afternoon and dredging up a genuine smile. Fynta turned Aric towards the facility entrance, calling over her shoulder. "Torian, I'll see you at the council meeting."
Watching the commanders depart, Torian refocused on his younger companion. Noara still held his hand, and he decided to speak before she realized it and pulled away. Rubbing his stomach, Torian offered his warmest grin. "So, how about some lunch?"