#Reanden's getting too old for this shit

[keldae]

A Very Fine Line

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Pairings: Theron Shan/Female Jedi Knight Rating: T Warnings: spoilers for Desperate Defiance expansion. Alternate Title: Xaja and the Terrible, Awful, No-Good, Very Bad Day.

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The warm sunniness of Odessen’s skies belied the tense mood around the Alliance base. Ever since Master Taerich had returned from the latest strike against the Hidden Chain rebels, the tension had been so thick that someone could cut it with a knife. Former Imperials who remembered the wild rages of their Sith masters walked gingerly; Zakuulan defectors with memories of the wraths of Arcann and Vaylin gave their commander a wide berth; and even lifelong Republic personnel took caution as they ventured closer to the above-ground meeting rooms. Master Taerich would never turn violent against her own people; this was known. But that fact did nothing to negate how she was obviously furious and likely to verbally eviscerate someone.

“I don’t think I’ve seen her this angry in years,” Sorand admitted as he and Theron walked through the base, Reanden a step behind them. The former Darth Imperius looked concerned for his sister’s mood. “Remind me to remind her – when she’s a little less ragey – to apologise to Koth for nearly tearing his head off.”

“I already apologised to Koth on her behalf,” Theron said as he summoned the elevator to take the three men up to the newly-constructed meeting rooms. “He still looks a little shell-shocked, but he says he gets it and he’d be pissed too.”

“Not that that fully excuses her for snapping at him simply for asking a question,” Sorand sighed. “Although to be fair, ‘how’d it go?’ was probably one of the stupider questions he could have asked.”

“Our ‘in’ with the Chain and Heta Kol dead, Heta herself still wreaking havoc across the galaxy, and no answers for what her ultimate plan is, or what Malgus is planning…” Reanden shook his head as he followed his son and son-in-law into the lift. “Damn lucky thing she was raised Jedi. If she’d been raised Sith, there probably would have been murders at this point.” 

“Did her mother ever get this angry?” Theron asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Airna never had this weight on her shoulders,” Reanden mused. “Though she was known to lose her temper on occasion. She had a hell of a right hook and could swear like a spacer.”

Theron nodded as the lift came to a stop and the three men left it, venturing down the hallway to the meeting rooms. If he knew Xaja, she would be in one of the rooms, surrounded by datapads and madly studying Maglus and Heta Kol’s methods, or in a shouting match over the holo with the Chancellor (again). He opened one door and blinked when he saw the redhead sitting on a chair, not moving – instead, she was bent forward, resting her forehead against the table before her, studiously ignoring the piles of datapads and flimsi. “Xaja?” he asked, frowning at his wife.

“Talk me out of embracing the Dark Side and going psycho,” came the answering mumble. Xaja hadn’t moved, still staring at the floor beneath her feet. “This is going to be the shit that makes me snap.” Theron’s eyes darted to his wife’s belt, and he stifled a groan when he realised that yes, she was armed with her lightsabers. 

Read the rest on AO3!

[andveryginger]

5 or 13 for the sex fic thingy ;)

5: Biting to stay quiet.

13. Anything involving secretive brushing of fingertips against inner thighs in public spaces  – this is in the queue and will probably be finished later this week.

DM!verse Mairen and Reanden were apparently happy to step in and fill this particular prompt. Decidedly NSFW behind the cut.

Her legs wrapped around him, back braced against the wall, Reanden reached up and pushed a lock of wet, wavy red hair back from her face as a smirk curled across her features. He trailed his fingers down her side, pausing just long enough to pinch at the darkened, sensitized peak that stood out against her ivory skin as he gently rolled his hips. A gasping moan escaped her and his grin widened against her neck. “Like that, do you?”

“Much as I enjoy it when you get cocky, you kriffing old bastard,” Mairen began, her warmth intentionally tightening around him, “I’d say the scales are fairly even.” He bucked involuntarily as the tension at the base of his spine coiled even more densely and he groaned. A laugh reverberated through her chest and her lips, sealed over his.

Mischief danced in his eyes as he looked up at her. “All evidence,” he murmured, “to the contrary.” Pushing deeper, her legs tightened around him, as if capable of drawing closer as her body welcomed him – encouraged him. “Can’t help it if I don’t play fair.”

“Play fair? Oh, darling….” The low, seductive note to her voice, combined with the sheer want mingling with amusement in her green-hazel eyes sent a rush through him. And then he felt a gentle caress against first his lower cheeks, followed by firm, ghostly fingers trailing under his base. His length surged and he thrust into her. “I could play much, much dirtier.”

The curse that escaped him was unintelligible, even if the meaning was clear enough. “Kriffing Force users,” he managed. “Always showing off.” His body slid effortlessly against hers.

Mairen smirked down at him as her muscles began to flutter around him. Her voice was breathy, pattern broken as she struggled to stay coherent. “You just don’t… like me… having the upper hand,” she teased.

Shaking his head, the former Imperial spy captured her mouth with his, right hand closing over her breast as he shifted his weight into her, this time with a bit more emphasis. He felt her moan, the tenor almost lost among the rush of the shower behind them. “Next time, sweetheart,” he replied. “Right now… just want…”

“Dad?”

Reanden frowned as both he and Mairen struggled to pause their attentions. Their bodies, however, maintained rhythm, tempo increasing slightly despite their efforts. His hips rolled into hers, and she bit her lip. “What the…?” He turned his ear toward the door, attempting to focus his implants to enhance his hearing. “Korin?”

“Yeah!” came the response. “You in the shower?”

“Be out in… a minute…”

His hand slipped back to her hip, fingers tightening as he ground into her, chests heaving as they struggled to breathe in the steamy confines. “Come for me,” he murmured into her ear, “but you’re going to have to keep it quiet.”

Her voice was a whisper, her head tossed back against the bulkhead. “Shit, Reanden… Feels too…” She dropped her head to his shoulder, a whimper escaping her and echoing softly. Knowing that she was struggling, knowing he was the reason – feeling her response against him and around him as he slid home again and again and again – he plummeted over the edge, sensation exploding between them in a blinding flash. His mouth closed firmly over her left shoulder, teeth barely breaking the surface, even as a sharp ache rippled from his right, their cries muffled by the rush of water and soft, warm skin.

The pace slowed, taking on an almost languid feel as they came down. He laved her shoulder with his tongue, kissing the wound before working his way up to capture her mouth with his. She offered a sigh, one that was echoed as he carefully withdrew, placing her back onto her own feet. He brought his lips to her ear and tugged on her earlobe. “I’d better go,” he said quietly.

She nodded, impish gleam in her eyes, rueful smile tugging upward at the corner of her mouth. “You know where to find me.”

“That I do.” Reanden placed a kiss against her temple, then gave himself a cursory wash as she did the same. Switching off the water, he passed her a towel. The rest of the process was handled in silence, with only the shift of fabric heard between them.

Finally dry, he stepped into his underwear and pants, grabbing his shirt from the counter. He cast a glance to Mairen. Still nude, she stood at the counter, arms stretched up as she plied the long, damp locks into some decently artistic style atop her head. His gaze traced the visible contours with appreciation, eyes meeting hers with a smouldering grin. He would have to show that appreciation later.With a wink, he slipped out, ensuring the door closed behind him.

Korin regarded his father with an arched brow, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “You all right, old man?”

“Sorry, kid.” Reanden looked up at his eldest son, opening the bottom hem of his shirt with a shrug and a bit of a smirk. “Thought I’d wound you less if I got dressed first.”

“Speaking of wounds…” Korin nodded toward his father, his observant gaze tracing details. His expression flickered between surprise and concern. “That one looks fresh. Company last night?”

“Hm?” Arms in his sleeves, the older spy paused, following his son’s attention… right to the red, crescent-shaped marking on the curve of his shoulder. He felt warmth crawl up his neck and spread across the bridge of his nose, and dove into his shirt as a distraction. Smoothing his hand down the front as he tucked it in, he shook his head. “It’ll heal up quick enough.”

A moment of silence hung in the air. When Reanden looked back toward Korin, he noted the wide-eyes and gaping mouth. His hazel depths showed equal amounts astonishment, admiration, and disgust. “Holy Hells,” he said. He took a step toward the ‘fresher. “That’s why it took you so long to get out: She was in there with you. Is she still –?”

Panic surged through Reanden, even as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression. He reached for his holster rig, buckling it on and stepping in front of his son. “She?”

Korin gave his father a wry grin. “Bite mark’s humanoid, and just a bit too small to be a dude… which, I might add, is a lot more than I wanna know about your sex life, but…”

“But you want to know who she is.”

“Well, yeah…” The smuggler-spy had the grace to look sheepish. “I mean, ‘Rand, Xaj, and I kinda suspected – there may or may not be a bit of a pool going…”

“A pool going?”

The indignation and curiosity was unmistakeable, but Reanden was suddenly glad the door masked the most distinguishable features of Mairen’s voice. He coughed. “A pool? You three have been betting on who I’ve been sleeping with?”

“Yeah – I mean, no… “ Korin sighed, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Pink blossomed across his cheeks. “More betting on who finds out first?”

Irritation welled up within him, mingling with amusement. The entire situation was ridiculous to begin with: A former Imperial spy with three adult children, diving into an affair with his late wife’s cousin, right under the nose of her very disapproving uncle – also known as his former father-in-law. It was largely for that reason that they agreed to keep their liaison a secret. Not having to tell his kids had been an added benefit. Now, it seemed they knew he was up to something, if not entirely who he was up to it with.

He wasn’t about to tell them. Or give Korin a hint.

The younger Taerich sighed. “And why do I think finding out who she is just got exponentially harder?”

Reanden laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder. “C’mon, kiddo. I’ll buy lunch.”

Korin followed his father into the corridor, shaking his head. “Thanks, Dad. Suppose it’s the least you could do for scarring my over-active imagination. Mom always said I inherited it from you…”

If there was a snort of laughter from the ‘fresher, both men chose not to hear it.

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Twenty-Seven)

The Shereshoy whined as it descended through the Alderaanian atmosphere, maneuvering sharply to slip through the narrow opening of a cavern built into the side of one of the many mountains in the snowy region. It hovered briefly, finally settling within a clearing in the caves, neatly parked beside the battle-worn Dancer. The engines were still ramping down as Sorand descended the ramp of the Shereshoy. He tossed a casual salute to his brother. “Good job not getting shot,” he said with a smirk.

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” Korin grinned, then waved as Lana and Torian followed his brother down the ramp. Shara was only a step behind, Koth in tow. “Corey got here same time I did. He’s parked beside the Raven — I’ve been told your baby’s just fine, ‘Rand.”

“She’d better be, or there’ll be hell to pay,” Sorand muttered, sparing a glance downward as Tee-Seven rolled down the ramp with a series of beeps and whistles. “Any contact with the rest of the cell?”

“They know we’re here. A couple of the Organas came out to say hi.” Korin started walking beside his brother through the tunnels. He knew the layout of the base well from his regular supply and intel runs. “From everything I was told, they haven’t heard anything. And still no check-in from Malcom yet.”

“Not even a text message?” Sorand frowned, feeling his worry echoed. When he glanced back, he could see Akaavi and Rusk behind him, Bowdarr bringing up the rear.

“That is concerning,” Lana murmured, a frown creasing her brow. “If Corso hasn’t been able to contact us…”

“Even if Farmboy’s on the lam,” Shara spoke up, “it ain’t good that the kriffing Supreme Commander went quiet and all. If he showed up on-scene and the Zaks caught him…”

“Especially if he really is Shan’s biological father,” Koth spoke up. “With that reputation of Shan being a terrorist, every loyal Zakuulan is going to want to wring any possible bit of intel that they can get, especially from a family member.”

“As if we didn’t have enough to be worried about.” Sorand frowned. “Any word from Dad yet?”

“Nada. But you know how Dad gets when he’s in ops mode. If he hasn’t contacted us by the end of the week, we can be worried then.” Korin shrugged as he rounded a corner, leading into a giant cavern. Once, it had been overrun with killiks; it now housed a resistance operations base. “Where’d you send the rest of the Mando squad to?”

“Mand’alor recalled them -- can’t say where to an aruetii,” Shara interjected, “but she’s giving me, Corey, Torian, and Akaavi a pass since she knows we’re workin’ with the resistance directly.”

“Fair enough.” Korin looked forward and raised his voice as they approached a command platform. “Hey, look what the wild manka dragged in!”

The flurry of activity on the platform ceased for a split second as everyone looked over, before a burst of excited noises filled the cavern. A second later, Talos hurried around the large Hutt on the platform, open relief in his expression. “My lord! It’s a relief to see you well and unharmed.”

“Good to see you too, Talos.” Sorand waved as Kimble came up behind the archaeologist and promptly smiled in relief. “You as well, Kimble.” He looked around, noting a few familiar faces, and more strange ones. Not even Thunder knew the name and face of everyone in the resistance. “This is a very impressive setup here for the resistance. Well done.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Vector spoke up as he offered the Sith a bow. “Did you have any problems leaving Tatooine?”

“Fewer than leaving Dromund Kaas,” Sorand muttered.

“The Fleet came barrellin’ in as the last transports were leaving,” Korin spoke up. “All they’ll be findin’ is empty caves and exhaust fumes. They didn’t catch any of us on the way out.”

“Cuttin’ it a little close at the end,” Koth commented, his brow creasing. “Another hour…”

“Ah, c’mon, Vortena.” Korin grinned. He clapped the former Zakuulan officer on the shoulder. “It’s a Core World tradition to procrastinate to the very last minute on important, life-altering things.”

“Only on your homeworld, perhaps.” Vector shook his head as he stepped back a pace. “Shall we provide an in-brief?”

“Please do.” Sorand fell into step beside the Joiner as his entourage of followers scattered, leaving him with Korin, Lana, Shara, and Koth. He could just hear the sounds of Kimble and Rusk meeting up again, mingled with Tee-Seven’s happy beeping. “First, the Zakuulans. Then we can discuss Malcom.”

“As you wish.” Vector bowed slightly. “If the Zakuulans have heightened their surveillance of Alderaan, we are unaware of it. There have been a few patrols that have come from the Star Fortress, but no more than usual. They still maintain a safe distance from the killik nests, for fear of Joining us.”

I don’t blame them, Sorand thought, but said nothing. “The noble houses?”

“Organa, Rist, Frayus, and Alde are still assisting us with supplies and transportation around the planet. Thul and Ulgo are aware of our presence, but they do not know where we are. We have a connection directly to Organa Castle not far from here, and this portion of the cave leads out to Rist lands. Killiks inhabit most of it, but we can travel through the nests safely, provided we do not cause them a disturbance.”

“Which is a boon,” Lana agreed, even if she cast a wary glance to one of the killiks walking around the cave. “Malcom?”

“Silence -- not even an attempt at contact that we can determine.” Vector frowned. “Duke Charle is concerned, as is the only Zakuulan inside the castle. We actually wished your opinion on the matter of this latest defector, my lord. She is a Zakuulan knight by the name of Senya Tirall—”

“Wait,” Koth finally spoke up. “Senya Tirall is here?” He seemed to be paling behind his goatee. “She was the captain of Valkorion’s personal guard!”

Korin’s eyebrows vanished under his scruffy hair. “That high ranked a defector? Shit, Arcann really ain’t endearing himself to a lot of you folks.”

“That’s new information,” Sorand said, shaking his head. “I think I’d rather like to meet her. If Valkorion’s captain of the guard has abandoned Zakuul, perhaps more Zakuulans will follow her.”

“We suspected you would.” Vector bowed slightly. “We can introduce her to you, Lord Imperius. She has indeed expressed curiosity about you, and not merely because of your sister. Your reputed strength in the Force impresses even the Zakuulans.”

“My reputed strength in the Force? I’m a little insulted.” Sorand offered Vector a small smirk. “Lead on, then.” He fell into step with the Joiner.

Behind him, the redheaded Corellian Jedi, Master Bel Iblis, stared after him, looking not unlike she had seen a ghost. She watched as his brother hesitated, looking around as though he could sense something... off. After a moment, he merely shook his head and followed Sorand.

Master Bel Iblis finally stepped back as the group departed, pale as she clutched a datapad to her chest. “That’s what her sons look like?” she whispered.

It was another day of travel before the Aegis dropped out of hyperspace in Alderaan’s orbital path. Xaja stifled a yawn as she and Theron walked into the bridge of the warship: The constant travel, flitting about the galaxy to obfuscate their trail, left her body with no idea what the date was anymore. She was pretty sure she was still operating on something approaching Dromund Kaas time. Right now it felt like the dim hours before dawn, although Theron had said that it was closer to early afternoon in Organa territory, on the planet surface. Maybe one day we’ll be lucky enough to stay somewhere long enough to get adjusted to one planetary time zone without having to run so quickly.

She snorted inwardly. Right. And maybe Arcann will offer a truce.

Malcom looked over as she and Theron approached him. “We’ve just arrived at Alderaan,” he said without any preamble. “The Star Fortress is orbiting the far side of the planet; if we’re quick enough with the descent, we should be able to vanish before they realize we’re here.”

“How often do the Zakuulans go poking around on the surface?” Theron asked, frowning at the rapidly-approaching planet and resting a hand protectively on Xaja’s lower back.

“Every so often they’ll traipse through the various Houses’ territories or go into the castles. But it’s not as often as they used to do.” Malcom stepped back as Master Satele approached them, Corso and Jorgan a step behind her. “When I left, the only Zakuulan in Organa territory was Knight Tirall, and she’s a defector.”

“I am curious about meeting her,” Xaja murmured. The idea of a Zakuulan defector and rebel against Arcann was one that perplexed her. And from what Master Satele had hinted, Tirall was not a mere grunt in the ranks who had abandoned her post. She was respectably high-ranked. Perhaps Arcann had pissed off more of his people than Xaja had dared to hope. If so, maybe she and Theron had a chance of survival.

“I expect she’ll be one of the first people you’ll meet when we finally get you to the resistance.” Master Satele offered a small smile. “She was interested in you as well — and I don’t believe she’s interested in turning you in.”

“We’ll worry about introductions after we get you two to safety,” Malcom rumbled. “Once you’ve gone underground with the resistance, you’ll get to know everyone.”

Xaja nodded, frowning slightly to herself as she gazed out at the stars beyond Alderaan. “All assuming none of the other cells were compromised.” With no contact to Sorand, or her father, or Doc, she was worried for their safety. And if they had heard of the attack on Dantooine, they had to be frantic.

“If there had been another raid, I’m pretty sure it would have come through to our comms,” Jorgan finally said. “Or it would have hit the broad HoloNet channels. Republic comms have already been blowing up with chatter about Dantooine — apparently we’re down to maybe two or three straggler Jedi in the Republic now, as far as anyone who isn’t on this ship knows.”

“Hmm. The longer they think we were killed, the better our odds of being able to get by without actually dying,” Theron muttered.

And the more likely my family has a collective heart attack, Xaja thought as she turned her focus to Alderaan. The planet thrummed with life in the Force, tangible to Xaja’s senses despite being in orbit. At this distance, she couldn’t focus enough to identify life forms on the surface. But for a moment, she swore she felt a flicker against her senses from a familiar signature, one tinged with both bright light and dark shadows. Sorand? “And the sooner we’re on the surface,” she murmured, “the sooner we can tell the resistance that we’re not dead yet.”

“We’ll be on the surface in under a standard hour.” Malcom nodded once, sharply. “I suggest you make yourselves scarce until we’re ready to get you offloaded. The Star Fortress doesn’t usually order ship searches, but I wouldn’t put it past them.”

In an empty alcove near to the entrance to Organa Castle, Sorand watched as an older woman was escorted through the cave by Vector. Even at a distance, he could sense her considerable strength in the Force, and the tight discipline that she exercised over it, enough to earn the envy of any Jedi. The Sith stepped out of the alcove, inclining his head in greeting. “You must be Senya Tirall,” he said.

“And you must be Darth Imperius.” Tirall offered him a shallow bow, which he answered with a nod. “I’ve heard much about you.”

“I expect there’s a few stories about me circulating around the galaxy,” Sorand acknowledged, a slight smirk twitching across his lips. He looked to the side where Lana and Korin stood behind him. “Allow me to introduce my brother, Captain Korin Taerich, and my advisor, Lana Beniko.”

“Of course. Even Zakuul has heard impressive stories about the Voidhound. And Lord Beniko -- your reputation precedes you.” Tirall nodded to each of the ones Sorand named. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Lana answered. “Though... I trust you’ll forgive our collective curiosity as to how a such highly-ranked Knight of Zakuul came to sympathize with the resistance.”

“I’m sure you have many questions.” Tirall’s small smile softened her pale blue eyes. “I’m willing to answer as much as I can. While I may be one of the only Zakuulans to leave the service of the Eternal Throne, I’m not the only one who believes our home is in the wrong.”

Korin raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight to Sorand’s left. “And here I thought that all Knights were devoted to the Throne an’ whoever’s ass is parked in it.”

“Not all of us blindly support Arcann.” That was a slight bite to Tirall’s voice. “Tyranny is not what our people have stood for. I would hate to see my homeworld become permanently associated with dictators and conquest.”

“Your kind is rare,” Lana acknowledged, eyebrows raising. “Although I suppose if you were a loyalist to Zakuul, you wouldn’t have earned Satele Shan’s respect.”

“No. Even with the Jedi all but defeated, Master Shan is something of a respected legend among Zakuul’s ranks.” Tirall smiled slightly. “It was an honour to meet her in a relatively peaceful circumstance.”

“How did that meeting come about?” Sorand asked, curiosity striking him. “The greater part of the resistance knows nothing about you, and I have not been on-world long enough to meet anyone of the Organas.”

“We met on Jedha. She was trying to find her son who had gone MIA in the war, and I was seeking Jedi teachings on mind healing.” Tirall frowned slightly. “When I found nothing, she suggested I come here. She herself went to Voss to pursue another lead.”

Does she know…? Sorand exchanged a quick glance with Lana, then Korin, before looking back to the Zakuulan. “Did she identify her son’s name?”

“No. I looked through a list of Republic missing and dead with her, but Shan is apparently a common name.” She shook her head ruefully. “Of course, after arriving here I began to hear rumours that her son is the reported terrorist from the Spire, Theron Shan.”

“The reported terrorist? Do you believe the accusations are true?” Lana questioned.

Tirall spread her hands. “I dislike the idea that someone would attempt to cause an act of terrorism to my home. But, unlike the rest of my people, I do not immediately jump to the first thing that Arcann says. He…” She paused, pursing her lips for an instant. “It isn’t unheard of for him to alter the truth to garner public support. Of course, releasing the assassin who killed Valkorion could be considered terrorism…”

“War crime, maybe. Terrorism seems a bit excessive.” Korin shrugged. “D’you think the stories about the assassin are true?”

“Someone killed Valkorion. And the reports say he was alone with Arcann and the assassin at the time of his death. For how strong Arcann is, I doubt he could have killed his father like that.” Tirall frowned. “The assassin, Taerich… she is your sister, is she not?” she asked, looking at Korin and Sorand.

“She is,” Sorand confirmed. “And the idea of her being a cold-blooded murderer is inconsistent both with her personality, and with the rules of the Jedi Code she swore to uphold.”

“She’s got the skill to,” Korin agreed. “I ain’t ever seen her lose a lightsaber duel. But if she killed Valkorion, she had a reason to. She woulda killed if she’d felt threatened, or panicked.”

“Master Shan said the same thing when I asked her about it,” Tirall murmured. “Considering she said she had trained your sister, she would know the most about her prowess, and her personality.”

“Yep. If the charges had been for sucker-punching Valkorion in the gonads, yeah, we’d believe it easier.” Korin grinned as Sorand shook his head. “Half ‘cause that’s all she would prob’ly be able to reach.”

“Classy,” Sorand muttered at his unrepentant brother… even if he knew that Korin was right and Xaja would have gleefully taken any opportunity to harm Vitiate -- Valkorion -- whatever his real name was. “My apologies, Knight Tirall.”

“Please, call me Senya.” The Zakuulan looked between both brothers, and the advisor standing between them. “I’ve heard a rumour that she and Shan have both gone missing again, with Master Shan. What happened?”

“We believe that Zakuulan forces attacked the hideout they sought refuge in.” Lana glanced at Sorand, then continued. “Three days ago, we received a distress signal, but haven’t heard anything since. I’ll be dispatching one of our scouts to their last reported location.”

“If Arcann had captured or killed them -- especially Master Taerich -- it would be all over the HoloNet by now. He does enjoy bragging.” Senya’s blue eyes narrowed in thought. “If they have been captured, I may be able to help you rescue them. I can provide information on Zakuulan protocols for detainment and transport of prisoners of war. ”

“And you would help rescue accused war criminals?” Korin asked, his earlier humour fading into a creased brow and grimly-set jaw.

“I would rather meet your sister and Master Shan’s son before I cast any judgement on them. As I said: it is not unheard of for Arcann to obscure the facts he delivers to suit his own means.” Senya’s eyes flashed. “Like the rest of my people, and likely yours, I want the truth of what happened.”

Sorand slowly nodded, deciding he rather liked the Zakuulan woman. “Then we welcome any information you’re willing to provide. Come; we may as well sit and be comfortable while discussing this.”

“… swear to the stars, Captain, you bring me another kriffing waste of bolts again and I’ll sell your ship to Ugnaughts,” Kothe snarled at Kaliyo as they entered the Shadow-masquerading-as-the-Duchess’s hangar, gifting a scowl over his shoulder to the lurching loader droid behind him.

“You want a better droid? Then start paying for it,” Kaliyo snapped. “I ain’t working for cheap, old man.”

“You’re already getting paid more than you’ve earned,” Kothe growled. “Keep it up and I’ll switch my services to the Wookiee.”

“You won’t. You like checking Lia out too much to do that,” came the snarky retort. Kaliyo looked over her shoulder with a grin at Vette, bringing up the rear of the group with an expression of long suffering. “Ain’t that right?”

“Don’t you go bringing me into this,” Vette snapped, watching out of the corner of her eyes as the Zakuulan Knights guarding the hangar exchanged a look through their helmets.

“Aww, you still mad about me sellin’ off your other cousin to Drooga?” Kaliyo flashed her teeth in a grin as one of the Knights took a step forward.

“You put me down as collateral in a pazaak game!” Vette shouted, lekku twitching dangerously. The Knight promptly seemed to decide he wasn’t getting paid enough to get involved in this and withdrew, his companion taking a couple of steps to the side. “You don’t kriffing own me!”

“So?”

Kothe sighed, subtly waving his hand at the Knights as the trio walked up to the ship. Both Zakuulans shifted, then turned away from the group, apparently deciding they weren’t worth the trouble. “You decide you want a new job, kid, look me up. My vices don’t include gambling.”

“Sure they do. Why else do you keep getting this model of loading droid?” Kaliyo grinned as she gestured at the droid. “Up you go, Rusty.”

Rusty? Reanden grouchily thought to himself as he trudged past Kothe and Vette. Never minding that his legs ached with maintaining the droid’s lurching stride — he swore literal rust on his joints would probably hurt less. But admitting that would be admitting he was growing old… and he was certainly not doing that.

Feeling the weight of a datapad in his jacket pocket with his own connection to the transmitters wired into the Zakuulan bunker, he made it up the ramp and lurched to the bridge of the Shadow. SCORPIO looked over as he came to a halt behind the captain’s seat. “You somehow kept yourself from getting shot,” she commented as she resumed typing into the navicomputer. “I suppose your ideas aren’t quite as stupid as they appear.”

“The threat to turn you to scraps and sell you to Jawas still stands,” Reanden growled as he dropped the disguise with a blink and settled into his seat with a soft groan. His hip wasn’t quite as forgiving of the droid lurch as it had once been, or of crawling around through maintenance tunnels. “Any updates?”

“Lord Imperius and Captain Korin have arrived on Alderaan. Intercepted transmissions from the Republic suggest that the Dantooine Enclave was destroyed.” SCORPIO glanced over as Reanden felt his heart drop to his boots. “Yet I have intercepted no transmissions indicating so from Zakuulan forces. The Eternal Empire’s forces in this system seem to have gone quiet.”

If she were dead, Arcann would be gloating to the entire galaxy. She has to still be alive. Reanden rested his head in his hands for a minute, fighting to keep the fear from overwhelming him. “Any news from the Empire?” he finally asked.

“Very little. Imperius remains at the top of the most wanted bulletin, and you, Agent, aren’t far behind. Your associates, Lieutenant Temple and Agent Emrys, have disappeared completely into the Ascendancy. I received an encrypted message, indicating that they are safe for now. Koli’arr was dispatched to bring Imperius in.”

That, at least, was good news. The bounty hunter known as A’den Koli’arr was, in fact, family friend and associate, Corey Black. Reanden knew well where Black’s true allegiances lay. The news of his protege, Adela Emrys, and the youngest member of his crew, Raina Temple, gaining refuge with the Chiss was also welcome information. Raina had maintained her commission in the Expansionary Defense Force, and Adela had earned the… trust… of Aristocra Saganu. Between their wits and his influence, they would be quite safe.

Finally, he nodded and pulled the datapad out of his pocket, passing it to SCORPIO. “Wire that into the systems,” he directed as the droid took the device. “We’ll be better able to track Zakuulan communications with this.”

“Very well.” SCORPIO started typing as boot steps sounded on the ramp before Reanden heard the distinctive whirr of the ramp retracting into the ship. Kaliyo and Vette must have boarded. “Where is our next destination?”

Reanden frowned in thought, barely looking up to nod approvingly at Vette when she poked her head into the bridge with a grin. “Alderaan,” he finally said. “We’ll rendezvous there with the resistance and figure out our next steps.”

“Very well, Agent.”

The Zakuulan woman certainly seemed nice enough. Senya Tirall was a mystery; Sorand had the suspicion that she was hiding something big. And secrets from a Zakuulan who claimed to not support Arcann’s tyranny was something that made him worry.

But if she had earned the respect and trust of Satele Shan, perhaps she wasn’t a threat. Sorand had only met the Jedi Grand Master briefly during the Revanite crisis, but she struck him as intelligent, and discerning. If Master Shan approved of Senya, then maybe Sorand’s paranoia was just making a nuisance of itself.

He frowned. That heightened sense of paranoid suspicion that he had inherited from his father, and refined over the years spent among the Sith, hadn’t failed him yet. Senya, he felt, wasn’t a danger, per se. But she was hiding something, something significant that—

If his paranoia hadn’t failed him, his sensory awareness certainly did. Sorand grunted as he collided mid-step with a human woman. “Sorr—” he started to say, before he got a look at the woman’s face and felt the blood drain from his own. For a second, he swore he was looking at a face he hadn’t seen in the world of the living since he had been ten years old. “Mum?” he breathed out.

As the woman’s brows drew together, Sorand belatedly caught up to the differences between the stranger in green Jedi robes and his memories of his mother. This woman’s eyes were hazel, not deep green… she lacked the same freckles across her nose that Airna Taerich had… the nose was wrong, and the chin was just a bit off, and the lightsaber that hung at her hip was a different build. But if Sorand’s mother had had a sister, he would have sworn this was her, if not his mother returned from an untimely death herself.

He cleared his throat and stepped back, feeling his throat tighten with old grief as his mother’s lookalike opened her mouth. “My apologies, Master Jedi,” he quietly said, sounding less like a Dark Lord of the Sith and more like a spooked young adult. “Excuse me.” Neatly stepping out of the reach of the Jedi’s outstretched arm, he hurried off down the cave tunnel. For someone who had had far too much experience in encountering ghosts, malevolent or otherwise, he felt like he had walked right into his mother’s apparition. And that was not a pain he was willing to face today.

Behind him, Master Bel Iblis stared after his back, mouth falling slightly open. She had planned to encounter Darth Imperius and Captain Korin, determined to see if they had turned out like their mother, her late cousin… or the Imperial bastard who had stolen Airna away from Corellia. But whatever she had expected from Imperius, she hadn’t expected that.

Now that she had been close enough to get a read on him, she was startled at how much his mother’s son he was. It wasn’t just his strength with the Force; Airna’s youngest son had inherited his mother’s slim build, the bone structure in her face, the same way her hair had parted. She had few memories of Reanden Taerich, but she could already see that the Sith had inherited his father’s dark hair and eyes, and the same set to his jaw — not to mention the height. And then there was the too-noticeable Imperial accent. Rumour had it he inherited a similarly vicious streak when provoked as well, and the same cunning intelligence.

But the soft tone to his voice, his polite manners even when startled— no, spooked, his caution; those, Mairen thought, were all his own. For a second, she could forget that Airna’s son was Darth Imperius, Dark Lord of the Sith and renegade member of the Dark Council. Sith weren’t supposed to be that quiet or polite.

She nodded slowly, still looking in the direction that the Sith had vanished down. She was going to have to attempt meeting her cousin’s youngest son again, and this time see if she could talk to him without him paling like he had seen a ghost.

[keldae]

Interception

Theron might not have been a Jedi, or able to use the Force, but that didn't mean he hadn't learned to listen to his instincts. His gut intuition had gotten him both into and out of trouble countless times during his career in espionage.

And right now, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

You're paranoid, he thought, shaking his head sternly, shivering involuntarily as the cool breeze tickled his exposed scalp. You know it's Gemini stalking you as per usual. He turned a corner into an alley -- a shortcut to his current bolthole. Or Atrius is watching. Keep your cover, don't let them know you're onto them…

He habitually turned his head, scanning the few seedy characters of the underworld of Mek-Sha as they passed the front of the alley. Nobody giving him a second look, nobody looking like they were hunting the Alliance's Most Wanted. Just criminals and gangsters and refugees, trodding along the planks, all but invisible in the dim, soggy lighting.

Theron shook his head again as a hooded figure walked past the alley. Probably one of the creepy slaver cult that operated here. If he survived this, he would have to tell Sorand about this so the former Sith could deal with the slavers that he despised so -- no, don't think ahead. Sorand is more likely to kill you himself. He sighed and stepped back into the alley. He was pretty sure Xaja's youngest brother, essentially the Acting Commander from what he heard, had no idea about this plot. And the idea of being on the shitlist of a Dark Lord of the Sith and former member of the Dark Council was almost as terrifying as an idea as being on the shitlist of Imperial Intelligence’s most notorious field agent.

She wouldn't send her father after me, right? Lana would veto that. Theron shuddered, refusing to admit how much the prospect of being hunted by Cipher Nine scared him. It was bad enough that Shara was hunting him -- rumour had it the Champion of the Great Hunt had taken on the contract for him for free, as a favour to her sister-in-law (with much angry snarling about honour and cowardice and how Theron had plenty of one and not nearly enough of the other, according to Korin’s updates). As long as she doesn't get a trace on you, you'll be fine. Right?

The lights in the alley surged with brightness for a second before falling dark, leaving Theron momentarily blinded. He was already ducking and moving, relying on his memory to navigate the cluttered alley, every instinct screaming at him to run. The power surge was too targeted to be a fluke, and the sound of a ventilation shaft falling open with a deafening hiss was too coincidental. He was--

A hand roughly grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Theron grunted in discomfort and drove his heel down, barely catching the side of his assailant's boot, and not throwing off his attacker’s stride in the least, by the feel of it. He felt himself being yanked backward, deeper into the alley shadows; he threw his body weight back, for a second surprising his attacker. It bought him enough time to yank his arm free and turn around, but before he could reach for a blaster or bring his bracer up to fire a toxin dart, he grunted again as he felt his attacker -- humanoid male, he guessed -- land a solid off-hand punch to his midsection, winding him and throwing him off balance. The sharp edge of a crate dug into Theron's back as he was shoved backward by his attacker, his wrist caught in a durasteel grip that prevented him from fighting back. He heard the soft shhhk of a knife being quickly drawn, and was forced to stop trying to fight his way free when he felt the sharp edge against his throat, his heart pounding with barely suppressed fear. Weren't spies supposed to be better at managing their fear and ambushes than this?

His stomach turned to lead when he heard his attacker's low, furious growl. "You have thirty seconds to convince me to not skin you alive, kid." Cipher Nine apparently had decided to track the rogue spy himself, and Theron's mind decided now was a good moment to helpfully remind him of the old man's reputation as a sociopath with a vicious streak a parsec wide. And he was pretty sure the fact that he was the old spy's son-in-law was negated by the fact that he had publicly tried to kill his precious daughter.

Theron grunted in discomfort as he felt Reanden press the knife tighter against his throat. "It was necessary," he whispered, inwardly cringing at how lame his excuse sounded. "Can't say more. Ears."

"One of which you're about to lose," Reanden snarled. Theron could just see the glint of rage in the old man's eyes under his hood. Shit, he’d really overdone it if the older spy was this furious. "Surveillance systems are knocked out for another minute. That's more than enough time for me to make you unidentifiable."

Theron had no doubt the Imperial legend could make him disappear with ease, and tried to not think about the sharp edge of the knife scraping his throat. Wait, if the surveillance systems were disabled… He could only hope Gemini was blind right now. "... How disabled?" he lowly whispered.

"Dead silence for anyone trying to listen." There was definitely a bit of unnecessary emphasis on 'dead', in Theron's opinion.

But he didn't exactly have room or time to voice that opinion. And if Reanden hadn't killed him yet… "Order of Zildrog," he quickly whispered. “They’re working on a plan to kill her, I don't know the details yet. Ask Arcann what he remembers about Vinn Atrius."

"Vinn Atrius…" Reanden lowly muttered the name as he seemed to mentally file the name away. "You've kept your ear, not sure about your hide yet--"

"Say nothing in front of Gemini Prime," Theron urgently hissed. "They know everything." From how Reanden tensed, he guessed that wasn't a threat the old man had considered. "They're tracking her."

"That so?" For a second, Reanden seemed to think about this new information before Theron heard his low growl again. "Thirty seconds are up, kid."

The knife moved from Theron's throat as the hand holding his wrist immobile loosened a smidge. Theron took immediate advantage and twisted his arm sharply, freeing himself to punch the older spy in the side even while ducking away from the sharp blade. He heard Reanden grunt as the old man was knocked off-balance, and felt the prick of the knife on his temple, but didn't pause long enough to hope this blade wasn't poisoned. His only priority was slipping out of the old man's hold and fleeing down the alley, finally drawing his blaster and blindly firing a warning shot behind him. 

He flinched at a return shot whizzing past his ear and hitting the corner of an abandoned storage bay, sparks flying from the impact. But, when he finally made it back to his safehouse, breathing hard and paranoidly looking over his shoulder, there was no sign of Cipher Nine pursuing him. For a second, Theron let himself hope he'd given the old man the slip, and the former Imperial asset hadn't just flipped on his stealth generator to stalk him from the shadows.

Either way, the situation was more perilous. Mek-Sha was compromised. Theron couldn't linger here -- even if the old man didn't come after him directly, it wouldn't be hard for him to get Shara on the asteroid for the hunt, or an Alliance strike team, or even Xaja herself. And Theron knew he couldn't make himself walk away from Xaja again, not after that glimpse of her on Copero. He had to keep moving.

Hope Nine didn't manage to plant a tracker, he grumbled to himself as he swept everything connected to him out of the cramped room he had called a safehouse and made his escape to the docks. The sooner he was in his shuttle and fleeing into the Unknown Regions, the better.

He had to have believed you, he tried to reassure himself as he slipped away into the shadows, flinching at every little noise that he could hear over the sound of his racing heart. Otherwise he wouldn't have missed with that shot, or let you escape. Right?...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From the shadow cast by a hanging tarp, Reanden watched as his target hurried toward the shuttles, looking terrified despite his best efforts. For a moment, the old spy allowed himself a little smirk: still got it. That reputation he'd built of being a sociopath had taken years to establish -- be a pity to have it wasted on this asshole.

The smirk vanished as he thought about Theron's whispered message. Assuming it was all truth from the younger man, this was some good intel -- and Reanden figured he’d been in the spy business long enough to identify lies and truth. The Order of Zildrog… yes, he'd heard that before. Hylo had managed to intercept a transmission, from Theron himself, mentioning that group. A cult, if he was going to be accurate -- the little bits of intel he'd managed to pull up on them had indicated fanaticism, both in the idolatry of Valkorion's shadow, and a fierce hatred of Xaja and the Alliance. This was confirmation that they were enough to be a serious threat, if Theron was this deeply involved. Infiltration? Investigation? Reanden wasn't sure yet what his son-in-law was up to. But now he had a name to look into -- maybe one of the ringleaders. From the sounds of it, Vinn Atrius had to be Zakuulan -- a former guard for Arcann or Vaylin, or Valkorion himself? Were they behind all the anti-Alliance uprisings that had occurred over the past year or so?

The warning about Gemini Prime made him frown. The droid template had been nonresponsive for months now; it had been assumed that she might have been entirely dead. Reanden felt like kicking himself -- why hadn’t he considered sooner that the droid was a security risk? Had the Order managed to slice into the Gemini systems and pick up intel from there? But how would they have gotten access, with all of the Eternal Fleet currently stationed around Odessen? Maybe they had found something on Iokath? Or maybe there were still ships unaccounted for?

This was giving him a headache. He scowled as Theron's nondescript shuttle fled the docks, hoping the younger spy didn't find the tracker he'd hidden on the vessel earlier; rubbing the bruise over his ribs, he slunk away into the shadows again, mind racing. First order of business was messaging both Korin and Shara to tell them to drop the hunt on this little asteroid, now that their target had escaped. After that, he needed to get back to Odessen and give Xaja this information… and hope his daughter forgave him for not dragging her wayward husband back. If he is infiltrating, capture will get him killed by the cult. Watch and listen. He'll come back up again. His gut instinct was insistent that Theron wasn't legitimately seeking Xaja's death, and so far, his instincts hadn't been wrong before. 

He only hoped he wasn’t going to be proven wrong this time.

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Twenty-Six)

Even with Corellia effectively under siege, the Coronet spaceport was remained busy: The sight of civilians, pilots, and CorSec personnel hurrying about on their business was not uncommon. Since the attack on the Green Jedi Enclave, the comings and goings of the Green Jedi were a slightly more unusual sight, considering how few members of the Order survived. Few left the Enclave now, and even fewer left Corellia, but departure wasn’t unheard of.

It didn’t stop Annya Emrys, twin lightsabers swaying against green-clad hips, from feeling as though she rather stood out as she hurried to a private hangar in the spaceport. Owned by her father, Hamilton, it had served to funnel numerous members of the resistance to and from Corellia. One might never guess that the hangar itself  was technically owned by CorLion, LTD., the Emrys family logistics firm. Two ships currently waited within the hangar — it a tight fit, but hardly the first time they had made efficient use of the space.

She finally emerged from the lift to see Balance of Justice emblazoned on the hull of the Defender-class corvette, all but towering over a small, two-person shuttle. A small gathering of personnel stood between the ships. She made her way toward them as the tallest among them saw her first and raised a hand in greeting. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”

“Uncle Connall wanted to talk at me for the last hour and express his displeasure with this entire idea.” Annya rolled her eyes as she finally came to a halt beside Jonas.

“He’s really against you leaving Corellia, is he?” Jonas asked with a slight smirk.

“Half that, and half something about Imperial-spawned bastards not being worth time and effort, even if the other half of them is Corellian.” The redhead sighed and shook her head. “I’m making it back after this, if only to prove that Green Jedi who leave the system don’t always wind up dead or defected like dear cousin Airna.”

“Oh, I don’t count?” Jakar Forseti snorted. “If I didn’t know the old man, I would be offended. Essi isn’t overly enthused about this idea either, but she’s worried about Xaja too. She’d be coming along if the girls didn’t need care.”

“The struggles of half-Tythonian Jedi,” Jonas deadpanned. “You’re the last one we’re waiting for. Cole’s staying to keep a haven open for us and to keep CorSec running. Risha’s had to run back to Dubrillion for some sort of a gong show there. The rest of us are heading to Alderaan.”

“And no word yet about your cousin or Agent Shan, from official channels or otherwise,” Bey’wan Aygo finished. “I can’t get hold of Corso on the comms systems, and according to Balkar, the SIS has no news.”

Annya frowned, turning her focus to the Force. She had trained with Xaja Taerich on Tython, years before the two discovered they were second cousins. She considered herself reasonably familiar with the petite Jedi’s Force-signature, but when she reached out, she felt nothing. Of course, if she was still alive, Xaja was likely in the Dantooine system, far distant from Corellia. “If she’s still alive,” she finally said, “I can’t feel her.”

“Neither can I, and I’ve known her for over a decade,” Jakar murmured. “She’d better still be alive when we find her, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“As in hunting down the Zaks who may or may not have done them in, or dragging her spirit back to the realm of the living for an ass-kicking?” Jonas asked with a grin.

“Pick one.” Jakar shook his head as he started walking to his ship. “Or both. Are you sure you don’t just want to ride along in my ship, Agent Balkar? I have plenty of space available.”

“Thanks, but I’ll need my shuttle. The Director’s promising to send me all over the damned galaxy in the next few weeks.” Jonas flicked a lazy salute at the Barsen’thor. “My next stop is Alderaan, same as you, so I’ll just follow you there.”

“I’ll send you the rendezvous coordinates when you arrive in the system,” Jakar nodded. “May there be good news waiting for us there.”

“Preferably tangible good news -- like Master Taerich or Agent Shan themselves being there,” Bey’wan muttered as he turned to follow Jakar to the Balance. Annya could hear the engines already powering up as the Jedi and the Admiral walked up the ramp into the ship. Looking up with a squint, she could just see Jakar’s Trandoshan companion in the cockpit of the ship.

Annya started to take a step toward Jakar’s ship before she felt a hand cradle her elbow. “Y’know,” Jonas drawled, a smirk pulling at his lips, “there’s more than enough space on my shuttle if you didn’t want to share breathing space with one of the Council.”

Despite her worry for her cousin, the redhead grinned and slipped an arm around Jonas’ waist as they walked toward his shuttle. His came to rest over her shoulders. “You’re just saying that so you don’t get lonely in transit.”

“Me? Ulterior motives? Never. I’m rather offended, Master Emrys.” The SIS operative couldn’t help the grin that curled across his lips.

The Green Jedi shook her head, her grin a suitable echo of his. “Shut up, Balkar.”

Aside from Thunder’s leadership, the Resistance had learned that mobility was arguably their most valuable asset: sitting down and getting comfortable was never going to be an option for them while the war waged on and Zakuul’s banner flew over the galaxy. Still, Sorand was impressed with how quickly the Tatooine cell had managed to pack up what they could, and wipe or destroy what they couldn’t. He supposed it helped that a solid three-quarters of the cell was comprised of Mandalorians, who were more accustomed to bas’lan shev’la  than others. Add Lana Beniko, former head of Sith Intelligence herself, as the taskmaster overseeing the evacuation, and things happened quickly.

He drew to a halt beside the aforementioned Sith as she looked up from a datapad. “We’re proceeding on schedule,” she informed him. “The first shuttles are departing now, and the last of us should be gone within two hours.”

“Good. The sooner we’re gone, the better.” Sorand looked up at the cave roof, as though he could see the Star Fortress construction and the two freighters flying around it. “Any updates from Corey and Korin?”

“Rudimentary shields are in place — the Star Fortresses rely heavily on the ground bunkers for stronger deflection. The station’s not equipped for life support systems yet, but it seems to be habitable for droids. Weapons systems are online, so they’re attempting to keep the Skytroopers and droids distracted enough so our evacuation can proceed.” Lana frowned down at the datapad. “Tee-Seven transmitted back something about a star in the centre of the fortress as well.”

The dark-haired Sith frowned in confusion. “A star? Inside the fortress? That can’t be right.”

“He’s insistent. And with your brother and Corey too busy trying to keep themselves from getting shot, they can’t exactly clarify what he means.”

“Hmm. We’ll debrief them when we’re all away from here.” Sorand looked back down at Lana, feeling nervous worry clench around his heart. “Any word from Dantooine?”

“Nothing.” The look Lana exchanged with Sorand reflected her own fear of what the end result of that attack had been. “No further word from Riggs, and no reports of survivors from other cells or independent assets.”

“It’s still early,” Sorand murmured, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the mostly-empty cave in front of him. “They could have escaped and still be running.”

“It’s possible.” Lana reached over, placing her hand on his forearm. She offered a comforting squeeze. “There is one glimmer of hope, however: Zakuul has made no statement regarding elimination of a resistance cell, nor capture or demise of either your sister or Theron. Arcann would be gloating to the entire galaxy, had he apprehended them.”

Sorand slowly nodded. Lana did have a point — Arcann was enough of an egomaniac that he wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet about his triumph over the ‘assassin’ and ‘terrorist.’ Unless they’re in transit to Zakuul, or the Empire or the Republic got there first. Wait, the Republic wouldn’t have attacked them like that, not with so many Jedi there… would they? “I still need confirmation, one way or another,” he said.

“You’re not planning on going there yourself, are you?” Lana’s eyes widened. “You’re as valuable a target as they are!”

“I’m aware.” Sorand sighed and uncrossed his arms, running his hand over the scruffy beard he’d let grow in. It would help disguise his identity a little bit, he thought. Besides, the look was rather growing on him, and Shara seemed to like it. “If we’ve heard nothing by the time we’re on Alderaan, I’m sending someone out to investigate. Right now I need all hands to get this cell moved out quickly.”

Lana nodded, then glanced down at her datapad as a small ping came through. “The second set of shuttles is away. We had best get to the Shereshoy and be ready to leave, my lord.”

“Lana…”

“Apologies. Changing four years’ worth of ingrained habit is difficult, Sorand.” Lana shot the taller Sith a small, tight smile. “Come.”

Nar Shaddaa never slept, and neither did the security systems of the Zakuulan bunker. Fully staffed, Knights and Skytroopers took shifts to guard the site and the control panels for the shields of the orbiting Star Fortress. They believed each potential vulnerability had been secured. But, in their arrogance, there was one significant blind spot that they hadn’t thought to guard against.

Reanden grunted as he slowly made his way through the narrow maintenance tunnels snaking through the sector, a blueprint of the area displaying itself through one of his retinal implants. It was an area usually left to rodents, droids, and the occasional vagrant. Needless to say, it had seen better -- and cleaner -- days. He tried not to think too hard about the puddle he planted his elbow into, crawling to the next intersection. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” he grumbled into his comm.

“This was your idea, Legate,” Kothe retorted, voice crackling in the earpiece Reanden carried. “Vette could have gotten in there easier.”

“Vette’s a bright girl, but she doesn’t know how to do my job.” Reanden muttered a curse as his head bumped against a pipe that had no business being in his way like that. Gingerly rubbing the sore spot through his greying hair, he blinked at the blueprint he was following. “I’m under the bunker.”

“Good work. Standby.” The former Jedi went quiet for a moment; Reanden knew the other spy was tracing his position on sector maps. “The comms centre should be about six more metres north, then two metres west. Be careful; that’ll put you right under the shield generator.”

“I’d still like to know how they managed to get their own power station in here to run the damn thing,” Reanden mused as he resumed crawling forward. He scowled as his implants started to quietly hum, picking up the energy of the Zakuulans’ shield generator.

“Heh. You should see some of the intel your son sent back about the Tatooine fortress they got a look at. Miniature suns inside the damned things.”

“Wait, what?” That report was concerning, but Reanden couldn’t spare the time to think about the apparent interior structures of the Star Fortresses. That was something to concern himself with at another time. He had another job to do. “On second thought -- fill me in on that later.”

The old spy reached the corner in the tunnels and turned to the west, grumbling about the stupid things he did for his job and the sake of the galaxy at large. “Remind me again why I didn’t retire, Kothe?” he muttered into the comm.

“You tried once, if Marcus tells the story correctly, and lasted perhaps half a day before getting bored enough to take apart the Shadow’s comms systems and put them back together.”

“That bastard knows far too much,” Reanden groused as he pulled himself forward the last few feet, ignoring Kothe’s snort of laughter. Yes, that was a peculiar pipe running through the middle of the maintenance tunnels, only a few metres from the bottom part of the power generator. “I’m here.” He blinked to take a snapshot of the area; another series of blinks sent the image to Kothe.

“That looks about right. You find an access point?”

“Not yet — oh, there we go, you look promising.” Reanden grunted as he pulled himself around the side of the pipe and started removing an access panel. From how difficult it was to remove, he suspected it hadn’t been touched since the bunker was under construction. With a few more muttered expletives, he managed to pull the panel off, exposing a series of wires and transmitters to his cybernetically-enhanced eyes. “Jackpot.”

He smirked tightly to himself as he reached into his belt pouch and retrieved some small, barely-noticeable parts. With almost forty-odd years of experience behind him, installing his own transmitters into enemy feeds was a task he could practically do in his sleep -- even on the advanced Zakuulan tech. It still operated on the same basic premise as Republic, Empire, and Huttese technology. Thus, slipping a transmitter onto the main conduit remained a simple task. “Test.”

“Standby…” Kothe went quiet for a moment. “Receiving. Force, I’m seeing everything: comms, transmissions records, security logs, personnel records…”

“Excellent. Hang tight while I set up part two.” Installing a systems override without being detected was a fair sight more difficult, and Reanden spent several long minutes sweating in the stifling tunnels as he delicately wired in the tiny device. He swiped at his forehead with the crook of his arm. “Give that a try.”

“Let’s see…” Kothe gave a low whistle. “Looks like that took. I’m not gonna try pulling anything with Zaks awake in the bunker, but I should be able to override their system controls from here.”

“Still got it.” Reanden smirked, then gingerly extricated himself from the tangle of wires, carefully replacing the panel cover. “Can you open the surveillance feed enough for Thunder to observe? Or Marcus?”

“Marcus for sure. We’ll have to wait to get Thunder’s latest encryption key. They’ve got some people hiding them who’re damn good at their jobs.”

Damn straight, Reanden thought. He’d been the one to make Sorand’s ‘Thunder’ signal nigh untraceable, and had taught his son how to maintain the scrambling. “Works for me. I’m heading out before I melt down here.”

“Salt doesn’t melt that quickly,” the spymaster remarked.

The double agent gave a snort of laughter. “That’s another drink you owe me.”

Kothe chuckled. “Then get your sorry shebs back here. You can collect on the way out of the system.” He paused a beat. “In case I didn’t mention it, good work, Legate.”

Trying to find somewhere quiet on a Republic warship was like looking for dry land on Manaan. The small briefing room that Xaja had eventually found still wasn’t what could be called a ‘relaxing environment’, but at least it muffled most of the noises of Commander Malcom’s troops and the Jedi refugees.

“I don’t get it,” Theron quietly murmured to her as they sat on the floor of the briefing room, legs crossed and knees just touching each other's. “I wasn’t imagining it — my mother saw it too. It…”

“After all this time…” Xaja took one of Theron’s hands in both of her own, fingers slowly tracing the calluses earned over the years. “Shouldn’t this have shown up with Master Zho’s training?”

“I dunno.” Theron frowned, twisting his hand in hers to run his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m kinda wondering if it’s not the bond that’s doing this. I mean, I couldn’t feel anything before the Voss ritual.”

“But even then, you could only feel what I was channeling.” Xaja bit on her lower lip in thought. “There isn’t really any records of this ever happening before, with a Force-user bonding to a Force-blind person and making them Force-sensitive.”

“How many records are there of people walking around with Sith ghosts in their heads?”

“You might be surprised. Sorand had some stories.” Xaja shook her head at Theron’s rising eyebrows and turned her focus back to the perplexing question at hand. “You don’t think another Jedi could have pushed your blaster back to you?”

Theron shook his head. “It didn’t feel like that at all. It… I could feel it, Xaja. It was… kriff, how do I explain it…” He sighed. “… It was like I could feel the blaster, and feel something connecting me to it. I could feel it being pulled back to me.”

“And it wouldn’t have been me you sensed,” Xaja murmured. “I was trying to not die.” She hummed in thought, an idea glimmering in her mind. “Do you think you could do it again?”

“Maybe?” Theron shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “I don't know. I guess it’s worth a try?”

Xaja nodded in agreement as she looked around the briefing room. Someone had left a datapad behind on the table; she reached out a hand and, using the Force, drew it toward them, setting it down a couple of metres away. “See if you can pull that over?”

Theron frowned at the datapad, then stretched his arm out. “Kriff, how the hell did I do this last time?” he muttered. Xaja watched his forehead wrinkle as he stared down the length of his arm. She could just feel the Force shifting around him faintly, erratic ripples pressing against her senses. It was like she was watching a new Jedi Youngling trying to touch the Force for the first time— which, she supposed, wasn’t inaccurate. This particular ‘Youngling’ just happened to be thirty-three years old.

The bond prickled. “Youngling?” Theron mumbled, raising one eyebrow incredulously at Xaja.

“Sorry.” Xaja offered him a cheeky grin. “Would ‘Padawan’ feel better?”

Theron broke his focus long enough to very maturely stick his tongue out at Xaja, earning a giggle from the Jedi. “Brat,” he muttered.

“And you keep me around anyway,” Xaja retorted with a smile as she reached to take his other hand.

“Yeah, for some reason. The things I do for cute Jedi girls.” Theron grinned and shook his head before turning his focus back to his task. Xaja watched as his smirk fell away, replaced by a frown. Amber eyes narrowed as the spy honed in on the datapad, a muscle in his jaw twitching. The ripples in the Force grew more pronounced, but not quite strongly enough for any visible motions.

Xaja’s gaze darted between Theron’s frown and the datapad, anxiously watching for any movement. When Theron had told her about the blaster returning to his hand, she almost hadn’t believed it. She desperately wanted to know if it was possible for Theron to touch the Force, even if his odds were astronomically low. And he wanted it just as badly as she wanted it for him, likely even more. For all his offhanded comments about not needing the Force, she knew he was always bitter he hadn’t shared his mother’s aptitude for it.

She squeezed his hand as she turned back to look at him. Sweat was starting to bead on his forehead with the effort he was putting into his attempt to move the datapad, every muscle in his neck and jaw rigid. “Breathe, Theron,” she said quietly.

Theron wordlessly nodded, not taking his gaze from the datapad. Xaja felt a burst of growing frustration mingled with desperation along the bond. “Come on…” he whispered. She could feel the strain building within him. The hand not stretched out to the datapad squeezed Xaja’s fingers in his lap tightly.

Maybe thirty seconds later, Theron slumped in frustrated disappointment. “Must’ve been a fluke,” he muttered. “I can’t do it again.”

Xaja sighed and reached up to caress Theron’s uninjured shoulder. “I’m sorry, Theron,” she murmured, reaching out with the Force in an attempt to soothe his frustration. “Maybe the Force answered you in a high-stress situation? We’ll figure something out.”

Theron rested his forehead against Xaja’s, jaw clenching with his disappointment. He had so desperately hoped that he could repeat it, she knew — that he would be able to live up to the Jedi lineage that weighed on him. “Might have been another Jedi flying it back to me in the fight, or my mother might have unconsciously done something. It doesn’t matter.” He sighed heavily and waved his hand in a frustrated motion in the datapad’s direction. “It’s not going to happen for me—”

The datapad didn’t move much, but it did noticeably wiggle in the direction of Theron’s push.

Xaja felt her jaw drop as she felt Theron freeze. Shock flared in the Force, and it was impossible to tell who radiated it more. Slowly, she turned her stare from the datapad up to Theron’s face, as his shock mingled with the strongest sense of joy and relief that she had felt since the moment he’d broken her out of carbonite. “So, what were you saying about that being a fluke?” A grin pulled at her lips.

“That… it actually…” Theron stared down at his hand, then at the datapad in disbelief. “I…” When he looked back at Xaja, his eyes were wide, a smile starting to appear. Elation radiated from him strongly enough that Xaja could almost physically see it. “You saw that, right?!”

“Yes, I saw it!” Xaja beamed as she lifted her hands to caress Theron’s face. “Force, Theron, you—” Her words were lost as Theron abruptly pulled her in to kiss her hard, too much at a loss for words to try to verbalize his joy. She tangled her fingers in his hair as she kissed him back, pulling him closer to her in turn—

They both heard the sounds of the sublight engines kick in as Malcom’s warship dropped out of hyperspace. Xaja reluctantly pulled back from the kiss and looked upward. “Is this another one of the false-trail jumps your father’s doing to keep the Zakuulans off our necks?”

Theron blinked in the odd way that told Xaja he was interacting with his implants. “Yes,” he finally said. “We’re approaching the Rhen Var system, next detour looking like it’s going to be past Onderon.” He sighed as he loosened his grip on her. “Want to go find somewhere more comfortable to crash?”

“Consider my rubber arm twisted,” Xaja said as she got to her feet, Theron a second behind her. She watched as his gaze still went back to the datapad and a smile pulled at his mouth again. “We’ll make a Jedi out of you yet,” she said with a grin.

Theron just shook his head as though disbelieving what had just happened, even if his elation hadn’t subsided much. “I still can’t believe it,” he whispered as he reached down to take Xaja’s hand. “After all this time…”

“The Order just gave up on you too early,” Xaja laughed as they started walking out of the briefing room. “It—”

A stabbing pain lanced through her head, badly enough to make her wince and stop walking. She could sense Theron’s sudden worry, but couldn’t hear him speaking to her as another voice filled her mind, a cold, malevolent whisper. So your pet can now do parlour tricks. So very impressive. Certainly the apex of Revan’s line. Vitiate was still as cruelly sarcastic as Xaja remembered from her carbonite nightmares.

Shut up! Get out of my head! Xaja ground her teeth as she tried to wedge a mental wall between her and Vitiate, even more than what the Voss had done. The Emperor chuckled coldly before the icy, painful pressure lessened on her shields, and the waking world came back into focus.

“--ja? Xaja!” Theron was lightly shaking her shoulders, eyes wide with fear this time. “Look at me, sweetheart, please…” His hand came up to caress her cheek; Xaja could feel moisture on her skin when his thumb traced her cheekbone, and realized she had shed a tear. “The hell was that?”

Xaja had buried her face in Theron’s chest almost before she realized she was moving. Fear raced through her veins, fear of the monster inside her head and what she knew he was capable of, fear mingled with hatred. “It was him,” she whispered, and felt Theron tightly wrap his arms around her, his earlier joy dissolving into mingled anger and dread. “He’s watching, Theron. He’s… he’s trying to get in.”

A cruel laugh echoed in the depths of her mind. .

With a whoosh, ships of the Eternal Fleet dropped out of hyperspace in Tatooine’s orbit. At first glance, all seemed normal and deceptively peaceful... until one of the GEMINIs registered the two light freighters being chased around the Star Fortress skeleton by the station’s rudimentary fire. But those pilots had seen the Fleet’s arrival, and were already diving away from the warships. The Paladin overseeing the battle group scoffed derisively as the ships, likely owned by the miscreant smuggler types that ran rampant in the Core Worlds, fled from the Fleet. He watched as the ships opened fire on the freighters, then raised an eyebrow, begrudgingly impressed, as the pair vanished into hyperspace. The Core Worlds did produce some decent pilots, it seemed.

But two spacers playing chicken with the Star Fortress weren’t his concern. He sharply barked out an order to deploy ground troops to Tatooine’s surface. He would get his answers for the blatant attack on the bunker there.

He turned to march away from the bridge, but glanced back just in time to see another ship leave Tatooine’s orbit and jump to hyperspace before they had quite broken out of the atmosphere.

The bunker was destroyed. As far as the Paladin could tell from the reports of his droids sent in to analyze the ruins, the rebels had managed to overload the generator under the desert’s sandy floor. The scattered remains of demolished Skytroopers still littered the ground around the bunker, but little remained of the human inhabitants. It was likely that the barbaric rebels had left their bodies for Tatooine’s wildlife.

The Paladin snarled in rage at the disrespect of the rebels, stalking back toward his transport. “Tear the planet apart if you have to. I will have their heads!”

Two hours later, he stepped into the hidden cave labyrinth, seeing everything tinged with red. The rebels had been here — they hadn’t vacated the caves fast enough to take everything with them, and there were empty crates, blaster parts, and ration wrappers left laying about. But the few computers still around had been destroyed with a barrage of blaster shots. There were no datapads or scraps of flimsi left behind. And there was no information to be gleaned about the recent inhabitants of the caves.

He stalked through the caves, noting the different alcoves filled with abandoned items from the resistance. Some caves, and even whole open parts of the canyon floor, bore the signs of recently being occupied by starships. When he held his bare hand against the sand, he could still feel lingering warmth, despite the cooler interior of the cave. The last rebels must have fled within the hour, barely a step ahead of the Zakuulans. He glowered at the stone walls of the cave before whirling on one of his subordinates. “Get me every departure log from Anchorhead and Mos Eisley!”

“We’ve been trying, sir,” the corporal stammered. “But this part of Tatooine is considered no-man’s land. Neither the Republic base nor the Imperial has any control over who takes off from here. And if the rebels are this good, they will have been able to dodge any identification attempts —”

“I did not ask for excuses. Get me answers!” The Paladin stormed through the caves, seeking to return to his shuttle. Which resistance leaders had been here? Had Thunder themselves been present to oversee the attack? Either way, he needed answers. Emperor Arcann would accept nothing less.

[keldae]

Fictober ‘18 -- 5

His daughter would have been twenty-six today.

Reanden swirled the whiskey around in his glass, the burn on the back of his throat doing nothing to ease the ache in his heart. The galaxy under siege from an outside powerhouse, both Coruscant and Dromund Kaas suffocating under Zakuul’s grip… and his own heart broken by the invaders. His only consolation was that both of his sons still lived, and his murdered daughter was now with her mother, somewhere in the nebulous Force. There is no death? Heh. Not from where I’m sitting.

He took another drink from his glass before the sounds of a brawl came to his ears. Already muttering curses for whoever had come to this particular cantina to spoil his quiet mourning, he twisted slightly in his seat. A second later, he swore out loud and turned back to his whiskey. Of course the Shan kid was here. Why wouldn’t the damned Force throw something else at him to make his life miserable today? He didn’t mind the kid, really… but Theron made him immediately think of Xaja. He hadn’t been blind to the looks they’d shared, or their unspoken body language around each other during the Revanite fiasco.

He sighed, supposing he couldn’t really blame the kid for wanting to vent out his own grief. But did he have to pick a fight with a Devaronian twice his size right here, right now?

He turned slightly to see the kid get knocked out by a punch that made him wince in sympathy, before the cantina’s bouncer started hauling his sorry hide outside. Good, Reanden silently thought as he turned back to his whiskey. Now he could go back to grieving in peace and quiet.

The prickle on the back of his neck made him sigh irritably. Airna might have been dead for over a decade now, but he swore he could still feel her glare as though she was standing right behind him. “Really?” he muttered in exasperation. He’s a grown adult, and this probably isn’t the first fight he’s gotten into--

The feeling of the glare amped up, and now Reanden swore he could feel Xaja glaring at him beside her mother. He sighed and tossed back the remainder of his whiskey. “Fine,” he grumbled, and immediately felt the prickling lessen. Only because he was yours, baby girl he silently thought, and wondered if his daughter’s spirit could read his thoughts.

He left the cantina by a side exit, leading to a grimy alley lit by flickering neon signs. It was enough for him to see the crumpled heap of red leatheris jacket and an impressive set of bruises already showing on the kid’s face. “You dumbass,” the old spy complained as he knelt to check on Theron’s pulse, then hauled his arm over his shoulder and stood up with a grunt of effort. I’m getting too old for this shit.

Theron groaned as he slowly came to, feeling every single bruise he’d acquired last night, pounding in time to his aching head. Right now, he couldn’t tell if that ache was a hangover or a concussion.

He gingerly opened one eye and tried to roll over, then winced. Hangover.

His brain finally caught up to his eyes, and he frowned in confusion when he realized he was in a simply-furnished room, on a reasonably-comfortable couch. On the table beside him, he could see a bottle of water and a container of painkillers, both still sealed. “What the…” he softly muttered as he slowly sat up, waiting until the room stopped spinning before he reached for the pills.

“Your idiot ass got thrown out of a cantina,” came a voice that made Theron jump. He turned, and tried to not wince when his head protested the movement. He blinked when he saw the shadowy figure leaning against a doorframe a few feet away; another blink made Reanden Taerich come into focus. The older spy was relaxed in posture, with no weapons visible; Theron still didn’t quite relax. “You would’ve probably gotten yourself killed otherwise.” The old man shrugged one shoulder lazily. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” Theron mumbled as he gingerly settled back down, rubbing his head where he could feel a bump under his hair. “... Where are we?”

“Personal safehouse off the Red Light sector. It’s mine, although Korin crashes here every once in a while.” Reanden pushed off the doorframe and gestured with his head to the room beyond him. “Caf’s brewing, and there’s some rations if you think you can stomach them. Take what you need, kid.”

Theron frowned as the older spy started to walk away. “Why?” he asked, and saw Reanden pause. “You could’ve left me there.” Maybe I wanted to be left there, a soft voice in the back of his head murmured. Maybe I didn’t want to be rescued.

Reanden didn’t answer for a moment. He finally turned his head slightly. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to end up like that,” he quietly said. “She cared about you, Theron. She wouldn’t have left you there.” He sighed and turned back away before he continued walking. “Fresher’s down the hallway if you need a shower.”

Theron watched as the old man walked away, then sighed and reached for the painkillers. Much though it galled him to admit that Cipher Nine was right -- Xaja wouldn’t have let him get into shit like this. But Xaja’s gone, otherwise I wouldn’t be like this. Of all the people in the galaxy to lose, why you?

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Twenty-Three)

Lightsabers igniting around him, Corso Riggs ducked into the back of the chamber and scrambled his comm link. Kriffin’ hoped I’d never have to use this, he silently complained as he tapped in a particular sequence. There was a slight tremor to his touch, movements hurried. Designed to alert the network of an attack and request assistance, he had only used the alert code once before -- a test run on Thunder’s orders. Balmorra’s resistance cell managed to scatter and escape the Zakuulans before they needed to sound the alarm. Dantooine was not going to be so lucky.

“Hope someone nearby’s listening,” Corso muttered with a final tap to the comm. Shoving the unit back onto his belt, he pushed to his feet and hefted his blaster rifle. As he held the stock against his shoulder, he listened for the sounds of approaching enemy forces, one eye trained down his scope. “Sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us, Torchy.”

Across the galaxy, the alert message had its desired effect as the signal rippled through the network. Each knew the day would come when it was needed, but the reality of it seemed surreal, especially coming as it had from Dantooine. No one expected the Enclave to be the first target on the Zakuulan radar. But then, no one expected Master Taerich to be alive, much less hiding there, either.

While the news was startling to Cole Cantarus and the Corellian cell, it was on Nar Shaddaa, Alderaan, and Tatooine that the alert provoked the most response.  

Kaliyo grumbled as she dropped the new scope she was attaching to her modified blaster rifle, scowling as she reached for the offending comm link. Blast, if whoever was contacting her right now didn’t have awful timing!

Her frustration turned to something approaching concern when she read the message. “Shit,” she whispered as she set her weapons to the side and lunged to her feet, running to find the old man. Cipher Nine needed to know this. “Agent!” she yelled, taking a corner at a run and nearly running right into her target. “Dantooine’s getting attacked, Agent.”

She couldn’t remember seeing Reanden Taerich ever going that shade of white before today.

Doc frowned as an alert started coming through on Vector’s computer console. “What’s that?” he asked, leaning over the Joiner’s shoulder to see.

“What is—” Vector frowned as he opened the alert. “It’s the Storm system. It’s an emergency warning code, coming from…” The Joiner paled and started frantically typing into the console. “Oh no. Oh, no.”

“What is it?” The Jedi who’d remained behind, Master Bel Iblis, stopped behind Vector and frowned at the anxiety she could sense. A few dozen metres away, Doc could hear the clicking of disturbed Killiks picking up on Vector’s anxiety. “Ambassador, what—”

“Dantooine’s under attack,” Vector hurriedly answered as he kept typing. “We need to warn Commander Malcom. Get Doctor Lokin and Doctor Oggurobb — we require assistance reaching Havoc’s comms while they're in hyperspace!”

Watching as Bel Iblis rushed off toward the resident scientists, Doc staggered back a step, fear lurching into his throat. Xaja was in danger -- again. Kriff, I hope that cure worked enough for you to fight, Red…

On Tatooine, it was Torian who delivered the news. Sorand -- Thunder, himself -- looked up sharply when he heard the Mandalorian’s shout echoing through the underground caves. He rose to his feet as Torian rushed into the command cavern. Alarm rippled through the Force from the blond-haired man, strongly enough to make Lana hurry in a second later, Corey right behind her. “What’s wrong, burc'ya?” the Sith asked as he started walking down toward the hunter, Korin right behind him.

“Dantooine…” Torian gasped as he shoved the datapad at Sorand. If he noted the Sith’s hands shake ever so slightly, he said nothing. “The Enclave’s under attack.”

All sound ceased in the cave as the resistance members struggled to process the news. Sorand looked down at the datapad, then at a rapidly-paling Korin, then back at Torian, feeling his face drain of colour. In an instant, however, his leadership mask fell into place. “Do your best to stay in contact with Corso; get any intel you can from him.” He whirled, looking to the former head of Sith Intelligence. “Lana, can you get in contact with the other cells and coordinate with their leaders?”

“I’m already on it.” The blonde Sith pulled her datapad out and began typing. Gloved fingers moved briskly across the surface, even as she spoke. “Your sister and Theron aren’t allowed to die before I’ve had a chance to tear them both a new one for sheer idiocy.”

“There ain’t a hope in hell that anyone’s gonna reach ‘em in time, Sith,” Andronikos spoke up. He was unusually sombre as he rested a hand on Sorand’s shoulder. “I know it’s your sister, but the only thing anyone’s gonna be able to do once they get there is scare off the vultures.”

“We have to try,” Sorand whispered, his fingers clutching onto the datapad hard enough to turn his knuckles white beneath his gloves. “We’re either saving them or avenging them.”

It was a hard toss-up, Theron thought, as to what was more terrible: the sounds of an orbital bombardment pummelling the ground overhead, or the sudden eruption of blaster fire and mechanical warcries of Skytroopers as the Zakuulans swarmed into the caves. Drawing his blasters in the same motion as he got to his feet, Theron fired as the hum of igniting lightsabers filled the cavern around him. Two of the blades were immediately extinguished as the Jedi holding them fell to the Skytroopers’ blaster fire.

He glanced over to the side, just seeing Corso fall back to frantically type a code into his comm link — probably a distress call to the Storm system. “Any odds we can get out of these caves and lose them?” he called over.

“Not likely,” Guss called back, guarding Corso with a lightsaber held in shaking hands. “Not unless we can get through the active kinrath tunnels…”

“Those are almost worse than the Zaks are,” interjected a raven-haired Jedi with striking violet makeup.

A particularly loud explosion rippled through the cave -- loud enough to temporarily drown out the sounds of battle. “And I think those were our emergency shuttles,” muttered Ashara, looking in the direction of the explosion.

“Great,” Theron muttered as he shot down another Skytrooper. They must have tracked us from Voss, he mused. The old man must not have been as good a distraction as he thought. If the explosion had been the destruction of the evac shuttles, then the ship they arrived on, the Corellian corvette belonging to his mother, might be their only way off world… provided that hadn’t been found and blasted apart as well. That, however, depended on them getting out of the caves. And right now, that didn’t look likely.

He had to give them credit: the Jedi were putting up an impressive defence. Satele had rallied the Jedi around her to form a wall of spinning blades, guarding the rebels who had already fallen and were out of the fight. How well could — Theron did a quick headcount — fifty-odd assorted Force-users hold off what looked like a full platoon of Skytroopers,  human Zakuulan soldiers, and, to his dismay, the incoming flood of Zakuulan knights?

Then he saw a blur of green and blue as two human women jumped into the fray. The taller Jedi wielded a bright green saberstaff, the shorter bearing two vivid blue twin lightsabers. His heart leapt into his throat when he got a feel of Xaja’s mental state — steely, stubborn determination, and a fierce combative streak that no Jedi training could tame fully. A week ago you could barely function! he silently protested, nanoseconds before he felt the hair on his neck stand on end and dodged to the left, a blaster bolt thudding into the stone wall behind him.

But apparently two years in carbonite and a month of being dangerously ill hadn’t diminished Xaja’s combat abilities. Theron wasn’t sure if it was the effect of fighting beside Kira again for the first time in so long, or if her reconnection to the Force had brought back the muscle memory of ‘saber duelling. Whatever it was, it was like he was watching her fly into battle on Rishi again, or Manaan, or Ziost, or Yavin IV. She handled herself like a dancer, fluid and graceful, yet deadly quick with her blades and too acrobatic with the fast-paced Ataru form to be easily hit by the Zakuulans. The Jedi Battlemaster, Hero of Tython, and Bane of Technically-One-And-A-Half Emperors was back in her element, a perfectly seamless unit beside her former Padawan.

The shouts from the Zakuulans rose in volume as the hated ‘assassin’ was recognized, fire focusing on her. One of the Knights lunged at Xaja, polesaber striking from above; the Jedi nimbly avoided the blow in a maneuver that made Theron’s back ache in sympathy. She then launched into a counter-attacked against the Zakuulan, switching to what Theron was pretty sure was the Juyo form of aggression —

“The terrorist! Take him!”

Shit. Theron dodged backwards as another Knight swooped in for the attack, just barely getting out of the way of the plasma blade. He wasn’t sure if there were orders for him and Xaja to be brought in alive, and he really didn’t want to find out firsthand. He fired a series of rapid shots at the Knight, forcing the Zakuulan on the defensive as a red-haired Miraluka woman darted in to help with the fight. Finding himself back to back with Corso, he unleashed another storm of bolts into the Zakuulans as the Mantellian shot down another Skytrooper with a challenging yell. “Any luck from the system?” he shouted over the sounds of the fight.

“If the signal got out. I’m kriffin’ hopin’ so.” Corso swore, using some expletives that Theron was pretty sure he picked up from Korin. “Be a good time for some gorram grenades right about now!”

“You’re not wrong.” Theron ducked another Skytrooper shot. For an instant, he allowed himself to wonder if his bond with Xaja was letting him leech off her Force-sensitivity, giving him Jedi instincts. “If the signal did get through, how long do you think it’ll take for Thunder to get help out?”

“Unless someone’s already on their way for other reasons?” Corso’s brow creased worriedly. “Dunno if anyone’ll get here in time.”

This time it was Theron who swore out loud. It was unclear as to whether it was from Corso’s grim words; from another Zakuulan Knight charging at him, only intercepted at the last second by his mother; or from Xaja catching an unlucky kick to her leg. He watched as she crumpled with a yelp. Kira dove in to cover her.

A warning prickled against Theron’s awareness, but he didn’t recognize it in time to do more than turn his upper body slightly. The blaster bolt that would have taken him in the chest instead slammed into his shoulder, making him stagger backward with a strangled cry. He heard an alarmed shout of “Theron!” before a slender, yet surprisingly strong hand grabbed his arm and dragged him out of immediate danger -- his mother’s hand.

The former Grand Master adjusted her grip on her saber-staff to provide something of a shield, reaching for Theron’s injured shoulder with her free hand. “It’s not lethal,” she murmured, inspecting the wound. “It looks like it should be easily treatable if —”

The caverns shook with the echoes of another explosion, and Theron looked away from his burning injury to exchange a look with his mother. “I don’t think that’s going to be a concern,” he quietly said. “Not unless you think the Force can work a miracle.”

Satele offered him a small, sad smile as she moved her hand up to gently touch his cheek, with a soft touch that Theron wouldn’t have ever expected to come from her. “Theron, whatever happens down here…” She hesitated, taking a breath to steady herself and blinking in the dim light. “I’m proud of you. I have always been a very proud mother, and I wish I had told you long ago.”

Those were words that Theron had never expected to hear from Satele Shan, not even during the few years under Master Zho’s care when he had actually been an idealistic child before he discovered cynicism. But it was something he would never admit he wanted to hear from her… no matter how desperately he did. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered, and saw Satele’s eyes soften for possibly the first time that he could remember--

He sharply looked up as a Knight of Zakuul appeared over Satele’s right shoulder, polesaber raised to stab the Grand Master in the back while she was distracted. A sudden spike of protective fear lanced through Theron’s chest. He felt his blaster settle back in his hand and quickly raised his uninjured arm to fire at the Knight. The Zakuulan fell with a blaster bolt in the centre of his helmet, not having suspected the spy to have been able to shoot him down so quickly.

Satele whirled as the blaster discharged, eyes widening as she looked at first the Knight’s body, then back at Theron’s hand. “What was that?” she breathed out, sounding more startled than Theron could ever remember her being before. The spy looked down at the blaster in question, then felt his heart stop for a second. Hadn’t he dropped the weapon when he was shot? Then how had it returned to his hand…?

He looked up to meet his mother’s dumbstruck look, a second before he felt a prickle of warning and ducked another shot that would have grazed his ear. Giving her head a quick shake, Satele spun back to the battle, saber-staff lighting the air around her as she deflected more shots away from her son. Forcing himself to put away the thoughts of how his blaster had returned to his hand, Theron gritted his teeth around the pain from his shoulder and fired around his mother, taking out a Skytrooper with deadly accuracy. Chances were that he wasn’t going to survive long enough to puzzle out what had happened anyway. May as well use the opportunity to take down as many Zakuulans as he could before the resistance cell fell.

Arcann rested his chin on his metallic hand as he studied the intelligence in front of him regarding Taerich and Shan. From Rishi to Dromund Kaas to Voss to— he glanced at the latest update from Overwatch— Dantooine? You have been moving around quickly. From what he understood of the Core Worlds, the idea of a Jedi willingly going to Dromund Kaas was unthinkable, half due to the risks of being murdered by a Sith, and half to the negative impacts of the Dark Side on them. Taerich must truly have been desperate to flee there.

But then, she also had ulterior motivations to go there. Accessing the information on Darth Imperius once again, he compared the profile of the Sith to that of Xaja Taerich. Yes, he could now see the striking resemblance between them. Pulling up an image of Cipher Nine, he could then see the traits both children seemed to inherit from the illustrious spy. So she fled to her family, and brought her lover and her friend with her.

Empress Acina swore she knew nothing of Imperius’ loyalties, and had given orders for her fellow Dark Councillor to be hunted down. The Eternal Emperor was not keen on trusting the Sith’s words. She would need to be investigated.

So Cipher Nine had fathered Taerich and Imperius; risked his own safety to protect his daughter -- after selling her to the Jedi as a child. Arcann frowned, unable to wrap his head around that concept. If he, Thexan, or Vaylin had been in such straits, Valkorion would have simply abandoned them. Their mother, on the other hand, had always been sentimental, attempting to ‘rescue’ them multiple times. Cipher Nine must be weak to be swayed by his daughter. That must be it. Coddling was what mothers did, he thought, not fathers.

Still, rumours circulated wildly through his Imperial contacts of the agent’s prowess in handling even rogue Sith -- despite being Force-blind himself. Forced to protect his children, then, it was clear he had a skill set more than up to the task. Thus, weak though he might have been, the former Imperial spy remained a significant threat.

And while Xaja Taerich’s mother was confirmed to be long dead, she also had another brother, according to the files procured by Sith Intelligence: Korin Taerich, infamous Republic privateer and smuggler, who hadn’t been seen in months. Arcann frowned. Not knowing if the rogue captain was powerful with the Force like his siblings was a factor he wasn’t pleased with. Even if the captain had no connection to the Force -- which Arcann thought unlikely, given his Jedi mother and the power demonstrated by his two siblings -- there was a significant chance he had also inherited his father’s intelligence and ruthless characteristics. If he had half of Cipher Nine’s reputed intellect and vicious streak, he, too, could prove to be dangerous.

He sighed. It seemed the whole damned family, with concentrated effort, could possibly dismantle everything he had built, piece by piece. He couldn’t allow that to happen.   

Frowning, Arcann then accessed another report taken from the Republic’s intelligence services. Theron Shan’s face stared at him in holo form, alongside those of the former Supreme Commander Jace Malcom and former Grand Master Satele Shan. The bastard son of two Republic war heroes, the spy had become something of a hero in his own right. He had earned his own influence to wield, likely with Republic forces or intelligence services. If he was truly Force-blind as the reports claimed, perhaps, the Zakuulan emperor mused, that influence was what Taerich saw in him.

Best to take out both troublesome families now, he decided, before they grew to be problems. Unfortunately, Cipher Nine had vanished somewhere in the chaotic Hutta system, and Imperius had gone rogue, disappearing without a trace. Jace Malcom’s whereabouts were also uncertain… but Satele Shan -- she had been located. Even better, it was suspected that her son and Master Taerich were with her.

A slow grin crept across his features, only half-visible behind the mask. Even if she doesn’t have them, she’ll have information. And perhaps the terrorist will come out of hiding for his mother.

Settling back into the Eternal Throne, Arcann switched on the stream of data provided by  the Overwatch feeds. The Knight-Captain leading the attack force had reported finding a group of hidden Jedi rebels, likely under Master Shan’s leadership. Even if neither of the Shans was on Dantooine, there would be one fewer pocket of resistance in the galaxy by nightfall.

Zakuul’s flaw was pride.

The GEMINI captain looked down at the life sign readings from her ship’s crew. “I am fully assured of the Knight-Captain’s imminent victory, Overseer,” she addressed the holo figure of the Overwatch officer. “The Jedi cannot withstand an assault like this, or escape now that we have destroyed their shuttles.”

“We witness the last gasps of the Jedi resistance,” the overseer agreed, smugness in his tone even over the holo. “This will strike fear into the hearts of the rest of the galaxy’s would-be rebels. The assassin and terrorist will answer for their crimes.”

“I do hope the Republic assets do not believe in ritual suicide in the face of defeat,” GEMINI commented. “It would be a shame to not witness —”

The proximity alerts sounded. GEMINI turned her head to view the new alert coming through on her screens; if she could have frowned in confusion, she would have. “What the—?”

Cannon fire pummelled the side of the distracted ship, and one proud vessel of the Eternal Fleet went up in flames.

The forces of the Eternal Empire were well-trained and well-armed, and outnumbered the Republic or the Empire’s forces by an almost hilarious amount. But no army was completely flawless.

The incoming ship swooped low into Dantooine’s atmosphere, easily tracking the battle at the falling Jedi Enclave. The Knight-Captain leading the attack frowned when she heard the sound of a large ship’s engines bearing down on her location, knowing that she hadn’t given the command for her ship to reinforce her troops. She looked up, pale green eyes widening. She watched in shock as she and the troops still outside the cave entrances were mown down by cannon fire.

Even over the din of battle, the rumble of a ship’s engines descending over the roof of the hidden Enclave was entirely audible. Theron groaned, only partially from the pain in his shoulder, feeling Xaja’s awareness shift toward the sky. She could sense new lifeforms, and through her, Theron felt a sense of their bloodlust and adrenaline. The Zakuulans must have called in reinforcements to ensure the defeat of the resistance cell and the last Jedi rebels.

He shook his head as Xaja’s awareness overpowered his own; she was growing too tired to maintain a shield between herself and Theron, and he swore he could feel everything she did. The Skytroopers radiated no emotions, but the Zakuulan humans more than made up for the droids -- all Theron could feel from them was greedy excitement, pride, and the feeling of an imminent, assured victory. It was a stark contrast to the growing despair of the Jedi, faltering wills, exhaustion, and fear mingling with grim acceptance of what was to come.

Theron turned his head as Xaja suddenly sensed new lifeforms entering the caverns at a hurried run, rage and stubborn determination colouring the Force to red. The spy sighed, shifted to stand back-to-back with Corso as the younger mercenary kept firing at the Zakuulans with a challenging whoop. He raised his blaster with his good arm. “Good knowin’ you, Riggs,” he grunted as his finger tightened on the trigger, the bolt shooting out and slamming into a Zakuulan’s leg. The attacker dropped with a scream.

“You too, Shan.” Corso shifted against Theron’s back, his arm jerking slightly with the recoil of his rifle. “The cap’n’s gonna bring me back to life to kill me again for dyin’ out here like this.”

“Hells, the old man’s gonna do that to me for putting his daughter in danger.” Theron scowled. “I think he’d do it twice, too.” Corso snorted a wordless laugh that wasn’t disagreement with Theron’s grim prediction before shifting again, taking aim as the new lifeforms stormed into the cavern.

A new round of blaster fire joined the chorus of battle, rounds of plasma bolts tearing into the fray. Shouts arose from the chaos -- sounds of confusion and sudden, new uncertainty. When Theron focused along Xaja’s piggybacked senses, he was surprised to realize the new fear was coming from the Zakuulans as they were attacked from behind. “The resistance?” he asked, mostly to himself, as Corso turned to frown in bewilderment.

A deafening battle cry sounded as the newly-arriving soldiers fully moved into Theron’s line of sight. His jaw dropped when he recognized first the large number of decidedly-non-Zakuulan aliens in the newly-arriving force, and then recognized the sigils adorning their armour -- not to mention the unmistakable war droid in the ranks, gleefully firing at the Zakuulans. “Havoc Squad!” he shouted, and wasn’t sure if he was relieved to see his father’s old squad here, or worried at the possibility of Havoc still being loyal to Saresh.

Either way, the mood in the caves changed abruptly. Panic stirred in the Zakuulan ranks as the Jedi found renewed morale and pushed themselves forward for a final stand. Those uninjured joined ranks with Havoc’s front lines, and what looked like an extra squad or two of Republic soldiers; the rest started to fall back to Satele’s rallying point behind the lines, the grievously-injured leaning on their comrades as they prepared to fight or flee the caves.

Theron felt a nudge against his back as Corso turned toward him. “Think that’s our cue to head out?” the smuggler asked over the din.

“Good a time as any,” Theron grunted in agreement as he let Corso start pushing him toward the shelter created by Havoc’s lines. Out of the corner of his eye, he recognized Aric Jorgan’s lean, angular features highlighted by the explosion of a Skytrooper. The battle droid crumbled under the Cathar’s matchless aim. Either Havoc’s newest CO had been on a recruiting spree, or he had called in some favours with other Republic soldiers sympathizing with the resistance.

A large hand closed itself over Theron’s elbow and pulled, disturbing the burned wound in his shoulder. The spy hissed in pain, and the hand loosened its grip slightly. When Theron looked up to see who had grabbed him, he felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of Jace Malcom staring back at him. The old soldier appeared to want to say something to his wayward son, but couldn’t seem to make the words form. For a second, Theron felt both Corso’s sudden confusion, and a heavy wave of too many emotions to sort or name from his father --

Another Skytrooper exploded from a lightsaber strike, and Jace seemed to snap himself out of his daze. “Move!” he barked out, giving Theron a shove toward the tunnel his forces had just entered through. Theron gratefully let himself be guided toward freedom by Corso’s hand on his other arm, just barely aware of Jace shifting his own position as if to provide the younger men a shield made by his own body.

He lingered long enough to look back, trying to find Xaja’s bright hair in the middle of the battle. For a second, despite the bond connecting them, he felt a spike of fear when he couldn’t immediately see her diminutive frame in the middle of the chaos. Then he saw Satele pulling the redhead out by her elbow and giving her a push toward Theron and the stream of injured Jedi survivors fleeing the Enclave. At this distance, through so much chaos he was unable to hear or lip-read the comments his mother made to the petite Jedi.

Xaja nodded at Satele and finally bolted for the exit to the caves, Kira only a step behind her. Theron felt a probe along their bond as Xaja then reached out to find him. Emerald eyes met amber, and Theron felt her relief at seeing him upright and alive. She nodded to confirm she was all right and right behind him. It was only then that Theron finally turned to flee the cavern with Corso’s aid.

In the middle of the desperate battle, there hadn’t been time nor focus for Satele to consider what she had witnessed. And there certainly hadn’t been time to ask Theron what that was, as she had fought to defend her injured son for as long as she could.

Nor had there been time to ponder what she had seen as Jace’s forces stormed the caverns, much less time to wonder how the blazes the former Supreme Commander knew to come with backup. However he had known, Satele would be eternally grateful he had come when he did.  Then she had been too busy pulling her wounded Jedi back from the fight, barely looking up to make sure Theron and Xaja escaped alive. After that, it was running for Jace’s warship, one eye worriedly looking up at the sky for Zakuulan reinforcements. Jace had caught the first Zakuulan warship off guard, but he wouldn’t have that same advantage should the rest of the Eternal Fleet show up.

It was only after the entirety of survivors and their Republic rescuers had boarded the ship, and were fleeing the ruins of the Enclave that Satele let herself fall into a chair. Her mind raced as she tried to plan the next destinations of the Jedi survivors, or the impact this would have on the resistance. Thunder wouldn’t be pleased that the cell had been compromised, she knew, but at least most of her people had made it out. She closed her eyes in a moment of silence for the fourteen Jedi who had joined the Force. The loss of that many Jedi Knights was painful.

As her mind tumbled over the battle, the memory of what she had seen rushed back, and Satele opened her eyes with a frown. For thirteen years Theron had trained with Ngani Zho, never once experiencing the wonder that was an active connection to the Force. It had been assumed that he was Force-blind like his father. It seemed that, if he was going to become aware of a connection to the Force, he should have felt it years ago. Not even being permanently bonded to a powerful Jedi Master like Xaja Taerich should be enough to allow a Force-blind being to wield it.

Still, there was no other explanation for the way Theron’s blaster, lost when he was shot, found its way back into his hand, allowing him to fire a such a lethal blow so quickly. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t convince herself that she had hallucinated it, or that the strange brightness she could feel around him was just something she was only noticing after having not seen him for over a year. What did that Voss ritual do to you?

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Fifteen)

It paid to know veterans of Imperial Intelligence, Doc decided. Lokin might not have been able to get people to clear out of his path like Reanden Taerich could, but he didn’t need to. He knew the back routes through Kaas City that kept them far from the main traffic thoroughfares, away from the people who might recognize Doc’s face from the Republic’s bounty posting. Still, the medic’s heart stayed firmly lodged in his throat, beating loudly enough that he swore it was audible a couple paces away. It was not until they finally entered Darth Imperius’ personal hangar that the near-panic abated. Apparently the Sith berthed his ship on the side of Kaas City opposite from where his father parked the Shadow. A beat-up looking Mantis-class ship rested beside the sleek Imperial vessel — Shara’s personal ship.

There was a brief flash of motion at the entrance hatch to the Fury-class Interceptor before Talos Drellik showed his face, slowly lowering his blaster pistol. “Xalek commed ahead,” the quirky archaeologist said as the two doctors hurried up to the Raven’s ramp. “What’s going on? He only mentioned Zakuulans getting involved.”

“Someone sold Imperius out for hiding us,” Doc growled as he hurried to safety in the ship. He was starting to get sick of seeing red and black everywhere he looked, but at least the Raven was safe for now. “We didn’t expect the bloody Zakuulan Inquisition to come knocking on his doorstep.”

“Who the hells would have even known?” Talos shook his head as he secured the Raven’s exit hatch and returned to the central area of the ship, worriedly eyeing the holoterminal. “Us three, Imperius and his father, Shara, Khem, Xalek…”

“Khem and Xalek are both loyal to their master though,” Lokin frowned. “And they hate the Zakuulans. They would not betray Imperius or his sister.”

“What about SCORPIO?” Doc asked as he flopped into a seat. “That droid could have sent a notice out, couldn’t she?”

“Her programming won’t allow her to break any orders from Agent Taerich, and he ordered her to stay silent—” Lokin startled at a knock on the Raven’s entrance hatch. “Nobody followed us…”

Talos quickly checked the ship’s external camera and nodded. “It’s just Mako. She probably saw you.” He hurried to the hatch, and a minute later returned with the petite slicer in his wake. “What’s the word?”

“Shara says we might be pulling what the Mandalorians might call a ‘strategic retreat’. The Shereshoy’s ready to fly on her word.” Mako waved at Doc as she sat on another couch and drew her knees up under her chin. “Or it will be when Skadge shows his miserable face again. No idea where he is.” She shuddered, then looked at Doc. “Your Jedi and her spy pissed off most of the galaxy, it seems. The HoloNet chatter I’ve been picking up has been insane over the last week. Did Master Taerich actually kill the old Sith Emperor AND Valkorion AND half the Dark Council?”

“Emperors plural, yes. Dark Council, no.”

“And not while riding a tentarak either? Darn.” Mako nodded at Doc’s blink. “Yeah, that’s a really popular rumour floating around the HoloNet, right along with her seducing Darth Marr and Arcann at different times, and apparently Marr is the real power behind the Eternal Throne and Arcann’s just a puppet, and Agent Shan is —”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Doc muttered as he dropped his head into his hands.

“Okay, I’ll tell you later.” Mako grinned impishly, then turned serious again. “They’re still with the old man, right? Where are they?”

Lokin frowned worriedly at the entrance hatch of the ship. “I don’t know, young Mako. Nor do I know where Imperius and Shara are, or his people. And that worries me.”

“Almost as much as the realization that the Zaks will be looking here next when they don’t find you or Master Taerich and Agent Shan in Imperius’ residence.” Talos frowned in thought. “But if we run now, it’ll alert the Zakuulans of something suspicious…”

“Not if the logs show you leaving two days ago. I can get in and alter that. The old man showed me a bypass.” Mako grinned, then glanced to the side as Talos’ datapad chimed. “Updating from the darjetii?”

Talos snatched up the datapad, and Doc watched his face pale. “Alter the logs, Mako. He’s telling us to run.”

“Hoo boy. I’m sticking around until Shara tells me to go.” Mako jumped back to her feet and ran to the Raven’s exit. “Good luck!”

Doc heard the sound of the airlock resealing as Mako left Sorand’s ship, and staggered back to his feet to follow Talos to the bridge of the transport. The other man quickly slid into the pilot’s seat, fingers flying over the control panels with practiced efficiency. He glanced down at another message from the Sith. “Blast it,” he muttered, “I haven’t scratched your ship yet and I don’t plan on starting now!” Pulling up on the controls, the Raven rose smoothly from the hangar and fled through Dromund Kaas’ storms before the Zakuulan forces could reach the ship, vanishing into hyperspace.

Xaja barely dared to breathe as the lift descended, her fingers curled into Theron’s jacket tightly enough to start cramping. Under cover of the stealth generator, they’d managed to creep along after Reanden through the apartment, Shara only a step behind them. The Jedi’s heart had lurched into her throat every time one of the Zakuulans or Imperial troopers had looked their way; she’d felt Theron’s grip on her arm tighten as his own fear pulsed through their bond. Could they have fought? Perhaps. But the Exarch had a fearsome reputation as a skilled fighter, and Sorand and Reanden both would have been compromised or killed for protecting them. And Xaja wasn’t sure she was up to a fight now.

She looked to the side as the ‘droid’ flickered and was replaced by Reanden, worry darkening his eyes. “Stay under that field,” he whispered as he pulled his comm up to his mouth. “SCORPIO, prepare the ship for departure. Have there been any Zakuulans in your location?”

“Negative, Agent,” came the cool answer from the comm. “I will notify you if that changes.”

“Good.” Reanden looked back at Shara as the Mandalorian touched a hand to her helmet. “What’s your latest?”

“I’ve warned Mako and she’s prepping my ship to fly. I’m parked right beside Sor’ika’s ship. She’ll be in contact with Talos and keep me posted.” Shara turned the T-visor to the old agent, and the empty-appearing space that Xaja and Theron occupied. “What’s the plan?”

“Lokin will get Doctor Kimble out of danger. It’ll help that Kimble’s not the high priority target.” Reanden’s mouth tightened in a frown. “If the Zakuulans got word of Sorand sheltering them, they’ll be investigating his ship and hangar. I’ll get them to my ship and get off-world.”

“You gonna need a hand with that at all?”

There was a sigh as Reanden contemplated the options. “No, you being seen in my company will cause too much attention. Head back to your hangar and get your ship prepped for a hasty retreat. If shit goes sideways, you’re Sorand’s last option out of here.”

“Got it.” Shara’s helmeted head moved in a sharp nod. “Be careful… all of you.”

“You as well. I’d expect the Exarch to be looking into you more closely now — be wary.”

“Great.” There was the hiss of an exaggerated sigh under the helmet as the lift stopped moving and slid open. “I’ll look forward to a visit from our benevolent overlords.” The bounty hunter stepped out and down a corridor; Reanden waited a moment before following her, as though he was on his own separate business. Xaja crept out after her father, Theron right beside her, close enough that she could feel his body heat through their clothing.

The door to the exterior opened, greeting them with a cool burst of wind and the sound of ever-falling rain. “Bloody typical,” Reanden muttered out loud as he stepped into the drizzle, hunching his shoulders into his jacket. “Quickly,” he hissed as he started walking, acting for all the world like this was an ordinary errand he was on.

Xaja followed after him on shaking legs as Theron’s hand slid down to find her own, fingers tightening around hers enough to be almost painful. But she could withstand that discomfort — and really, she didn’t blame him, not when she could hear her own pulse roaring in her ears. He was every bit as alarmed and nervous as she was. And through the Force, Xaja could pick up slight pulsings of her father’s Force-signature, despite his mental shielding and his flawless pazaak face: Reanden was worried too, both for the daughter he was smuggling out and the son he’d left behind. If Sorand was implicated in sheltering three of the galaxy’s most wanted fugitives…

Sorand’s smart though. He’s clever and powerful, both in rank and with the Force. He can look after himself, can’t he? He won’t let the Exarch shove him around. Xaja almost felt a little better until she remembered that Arcann or his sister Vaylin could come to investigate the reports themselves, and that sent her anxiety skyrocketing again. He’s not that strong… is he? He’s not like Korin where he would likely say something to escalate the situation… right? Theron’s hand squeezing her own helped bring her back down to the planet’s surface — he could feel her fear as clearly as she could sense his. Focus, focus. You can worry about your brother once you’re not within sniffing range of half the bloody Empire.“How far is the hangar?” she whispered at her father’s back.

“Several minutes’ walk,” Reanden answered, his voice low enough Xaja had to strain to hear it. When he turned his head to look to the side, she could see his lips barely moving. “There’s a shorter route, but it goes through a main thoroughfare. Too many Sith that way.”

Great. Xaja worriedly glanced around as Kaas City’s avenue passed under their feet, shuddering at the feeling of cold rain trickling down her back and neck. Blast it — even if her Force-usage was only passively sensing things around her, she was still too visible in the Force’s currents. Even with her best efforts at mental shielding, she feared she would stick out like a bright spark against Dromund Kaas’ darkness. Maybe the monster in your head will shield you, she mused.

And maybe Vitiate… Valkorion… whatever the kriff his name was would do the rest of the galaxy a favour and slink out of her head to fade out of existence somewhere outside the reaches of the known galaxy.

She stumbled over her own feet, nerves stealing her coordination when a couple of ensigns appeared from around a corner. She heard a muffled grunt as Theron walked directly into her back, spurring her back into motion to keep up with her father. She glanced at the two officers, desperately hoping they hadn’t heard or sensed anything out of the ordinary…

Neither of them so much as looked at the couple hidden under the stealth field. They just glanced at the Intelligence Commander before hurriedly averting their gazes and continuing on their way. It was fortunate the memories of Imperial Intelligence were still strong among the Empire’s population, and Reanden barely had to raise an eyebrow to apparently remind people of how easily he could make them disappear. For once, Xaja found herself grateful for Intelligence’s fearsome reputation as the two ensigns continued on their way… then a woman in civilian garb walked by at a hurried pace, open wariness in her gaze… Dad, just what the kriff have you done to earn this type of reputation? Or are you just reaping the benefits of Intelligence’s history? Perhaps not knowing details of her father’s career history was for the better.

But it couldn’t have lasted. A tall, broad-shouldered Pureblood Sith marched down the street, seemingly not caring about the Sith Intelligence Commander in his walking path. “Agent,” he growled out at the human spy. “Skulking in back streets like the rest of your kind?”

“And you just enjoy strolling off the main roads yourself?” Reanden asked with a raised eyebrow, not breaking his stride.

“Know your place, spook.” The Sith’s golden eyes narrowed menacingly. “You will address me properly.”

“Certainly… acolyte. Or did you graduate, or whatever the proper term is for Sithlings in training?”

The Sith spat at Reanden’s boots, a sneer cutting across his face. “Watch yourself. Being one of Imperius’s favourites does not grant you immunity from the Empire’s Wrath. My master will put you back in your place if —” He trailed off, eyes narrowing as he looked around. “… if he finds a reason to…”

Dread clenched itself around Xaja’s heart as Theron’s grip tightened on her. She could feel the Sith’s mind reaching out, probing the Force, saw her father tense in a ready stance —

The cloud of darkness pushed against her mental shields, followed shortly by the Sith’s delightedly cruel grin as a very physical Force-push sent Xaja flying backward into Theron and knocking them both over, the impact on the ground hard enough to knock out the stealth generator. “What have we here? The same bloody Jedi and Republic spy that the entire galaxy’s looking for, in Kaas City?” A blood-red lightsaber snap-hissed to life with a menacing hum. “My master will be very interested to hear of this —”

There was a flurry of motion. Xaja felt herself being pushed down as she reached for her own lightsaber as Theron drew a blaster, covering her with his own body as he aimed to fire before his weapon was thrown away with the Force, skittering down the duracrete. The Sith’s sneer suddenly disappeared in a shocked expression and a gurgle, however, as a vibroblade was driven into the back of his neck and out through his throat. Dark red blood spurted from the fatal wound, staining the black armour the Sith wore. Reanden swore a blue streak under his breath as he struggled to lower the larger Sith quietly to the ground. “Shit. No way this is ending quietly now.”

“Who was he?” Theron lowly asked as he got back up and turned to give Xaja a hand up before hurrying to retrieve his blaster.

“Only one of the bloody Wrath’s apprentices. And if Maglion knows you’re here, in my company…” Xaja didn’t need a spy’s training to see the fear in her father’s eyes. He dragged the Sith’s body behind a refuse bin and scowled at the blood staining his jacket, a colourful assortment of various alien curses pouring from his mouth. Xaja had to blink -- she hadn’t known her father could swear in that many languages. “Blast it. You two all right?”

“Maybe some bruises, not worth worrying about.” Xaja frowned down at her damp clothing, then looked back at the shadow of the Sith’s corpse. “Will the Wrath be nearby?”

“If he is, we’re already dead. You two better start praying he’s not in Kaas City right now. He’ll have probably sensed that.” Reanden swore under his breath again as he cautiously looked around for other witnesses. Fortunately, everyone else seemed to have cleared out even faster when the Sith had first appeared, and the alley was empty. “We need to be gone before someone finds the body. Get that stealth field back online, quickly. You need to be offworld ten minutes ago.”

A pair of eyes narrowed suspiciously as the Imperial trooper looked around the apartment. Imperius lived by surprisingly-modest means: Most of his budget seemed to go toward books and not decor. But that wasn’t what set the soldier’s senses on alert. It was the rumpled beds; the excess of blankets left on the couch in the upper sitting room; the abandoned half-mug of caf on the table. He surreptitiously swiped the mug, emptying the still-warm caf down the ‘fresher drain before slipping the object into his belt pouch. Perhaps it only had Imperius’ DNA signature on it, but it was worth investigating.

Keen eyes picked up on other tells that the Exarch missed while she was cowering from a very-pissed-off Imperius. A novel, left out of place on the table… a dark robe, too small to fit Imperius, hanging on a clothing rack… a strand of long red hair left behind on the couch. Imperius’ hair was about that long, but far darker, and the Mandalorian woman’s hair was brown. But Master Taerich’s hair was about that long… The hair was plucked off the couch and secured in another pouch.

It was some time later that Agent Kovach stood in the Intelligence laboratory, still in his guise as an Imperial soldier, staring in mute shock at the DNA results from the hair and mug he’d stolen. That was Theron Shan’s genetic code on the mug, and Kovach was indeed pleased to know the rival spy was still alive and had been here. But the hair -- it flagged in both Imperial and Republic databases. Xaja Taerich had been here indeed, and she’d happened to pick a former associate from the Revanite and Ziost crises to hide with…

Kovach pulled up Taerich’s face as well as Imperius’, and stepped back to study both humans. Both powerful Force-users, although that didn’t necessarily mean anything… both claiming Lavisar as a homeworld, and Corellian heritage from a deceased mother… eerily similar eye shapes, smiles, and slender builds…

He looked down at the DNA comparisons and shook his head. And they shared parents.

A series of flurried typing into the secure holoconsole brought up his own direct line to Chancellor Saresh’s office. “Pardon the interruption, ma’am,” he said as the Twi’lek appeared, “but you’re going to want to know what I just found out about Master Taerich…”

Several minutes of hurried walking later, and one close call with a routine patrol, passed before the hangar door finally came into view. Theron breathed out a small sigh of relief as the door slid open, revealing the waiting Shadow. “I’ve never been so glad to see that ship in my life,” he muttered as he hurried toward the vessel behind Reanden, Xaja tightly holding onto his hand.

“Don’t get too comfortable. We’re not out of the woods yet, kid.” Reanden glanced over his shoulder as he remotely activated the entry ramp for the ship. “Get on board and out of sight. Hurry!”

The stealth field generator deactivated with a click as Theron ran up the ramp with Xaja, the tension in his back only slightly easing in the safety of the shuttle. As Reanden hurried up after them and turned toward the bridge of the Shadow, the spy’s two passengers followed him down the narrow corridor, pausing before reaching the door. “Any updates from Sorand?” Theron asked as he wrapped his arm protectively around Xaja’s thin shoulders. She leaned into his side, but he could still feel her shaking against him, and he didn’t think it was from the cold rain.

“The Exarch is still rooting around his apartment,” Reanden absently responded as he started briskly tapping commands into the console of his ship, glancing at a datapad. “He sent Talos offworld with Lokin and Kimble, no reports of his ship being stopped. It appears your friend made it offworld safely, Xaja.”

“That’s good news.” Xaja sighed in visible relief, her shoulders relaxing slightly under Theron’s arm. “Shara?”

“No word yet, but she should be prepping her ship to leave in a hurry. She’s Sorand’s last option out of —” Reanden jerked his head up at a beeping from his console and swore. “Fierfek.”

“What?” Theron leaned in to squint at the blinking light on the console. “What’s wrong?”

“Patrol coming through the hangar. Imperial, looks like it’s routine, but considering we just killed a Sith, I’m not taking any chances.” Reanden straightened and spun to shoo his two passengers back down the corridor. “In the stern cargo holding area, there’s a compartment under the floor. The hatch is located beside the storage locker. It’s big enough for two people to hide. Get down there and stay put until I come and get you.”

Xaja frowned in confusion. “Why the kriff do you have a hidden compartment that —”

“Long story, baby girl. We get offworld alive, I’ll explain later. Hurry!” Reanden turned back to call to the bridge. “SCORPIO, how close are we to being able to fly?”

“If the spaceport authority does not hamper our takeoff, we can be offworld in minutes…”

Theron didn’t hear the rest of the droid’s words as he hurried through to the back of the ship, Xaja’s hand held tightly in his own. True to Reanden’s words, when he felt around the deck below the large storage locker, he found a concealed lever for the hatch and lifted it with a grunt, holding it open long enough for Xaja to slip inside before he followed her and lowered the deck plating over them. The compartment was nowhere near spacious or luxurious, but it was enough for him to stretch out without his legs or back cramping. In the blackness, he felt Xaja press herself against him — and now the shaking was even more pronounced. He squirmed until he could roll over and tightly hug her. “Shhh,” he murmured into her hair. “Are you okay?”

Xaja shook her head into his chest, her thin fingers tangling in his shirt. Theron felt her hesitate for a moment before she finally mumbled “It’s the darkness, and the cold, and…”

She wasn’t frightened of the dark before being shoved in carbonite. Theron tightened his grip on her, soothingly rubbing her back. “It is freezing down here,” he grumbled in agreement. “Hopefully your dad comes to get us out soon.”

“If he doesn’t get shot first,” Xaja whispered, and now Theron could sense the tendril of fear tracing a line through their bond. “Or if the Zaks don’t connect him to us, or…” The fear blossomed into full-fledged anxiety.

Shit. Panicking Jedi was not something Theron had ever found himself good at dealing with. But a panicking Jedi around any sort of enemy Force-user would get them killed, and he had no way of knowing if there was a Sith in that patrol. “Shhh,” he murmured again, kissing her forehead as he tightened his hold on her. “Your dad is the single most stubborn, conniving asshole I’ve ever met. He’s not going to get himself killed -- or us.”

Xaja made a sound that most closely resembled a strangled, somewhat-hysterical laugh. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my dad can piss off entire planets as easy as breathing.”

“And have them eating out of his hand in the next breath. You know he’s damn good, sweetheart. He won’t let us get killed and — dammit, I can’t believe I’m saying positive things about your kriffing dad, of all people.”

That earned him a light swat on the arm, but Xaja seemed to have been brought back down off her anxiety for the time being. Theron forced himself to smile as he kissed her hair before the pair settled in to quietly wait. There were the sounds of muffled voices from above… heavy bootsteps walking… someone moved into the cargo hold area, standing directly on top of the two hiding fugitives before moving on. This was hardly Theron’s first experience with hiding in a storage compartment to be smuggled in or out of somewhere, but this instance was making him almost as fearful as the Jedi he was protecting. He barely dared to breathe as he slowly positioned himself over Xaja protectively, straining his ears to listen for the patrol moving around, and swore under his breath when the ship’s engines suddenly kicked in, loud enough to drown out every other sound. But the Shadow was moving, and Reanden wouldn’t have taken off with intruders still aboard his ship, would he? Another thought came to mind that made Theron frown. The old bastard wouldn’t jump to hyperspace with his passengers still in the compartment, would —?

The panel was suddenly lifted away, with a rush of cool air and blinding light that made both Theron and Xaja wince. “Sorry about that,” Reanden said as he reached into the compartment to help Theron out. “Nosy bastard in charge of that patrol. I’m not taking chances with you two.”

“Appreciate it,” Theron grunted as he accepted the hand out, then turned as Xaja was pulled out next. “Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure yet. We have to discuss what few options you two have.” Reanden started walking back toward the main area of the ship, but not before Theron saw the worried crease in the old man’s brow, or the hunch of his shoulders. He was every bit as worried as they were. “Come.”

Saresh stared down at the files that Kovach had transmitted, shock coursing through her at this new revelation. The legendary Master Taerich, Hero of Tython, Commander of the Jedi Forces on Corellia, Battlemaster of the Order, and the single most stubborn, infuriating Jedi the Order had ever produced, was the sister of Darth-bloody-Imperius. She still had no idea what the Sith’s birth name was, but apparently his surname had once been Taerich, and the siblings had been close if the Jedi had run to him for help on Dromund Kaas. She absently wondered which sibling was the elder.

They worked together during the Revanite incident, Saresh mused to herself as she stared at the images of Imperius and Master Taerich’s faces. Yes, now she could see the resemblance between the two. And they were cooperating on Ziost with Shan and that privateer. I wonder how that smuggler’s connected… She would have to look into the identity of Captain Korin, last name unknown, later, and perhaps look into Cipher Nine, if any information could be gathered on the Imperial spook. He’d been there during the Revanite incident as well. But right now, this stain on Master Taerich demanded her attention. If she was working with Imperius on Ziost, perhaps the fault can’t all be laid on Shan for that disaster. If she compromised the Republic to appease her brother… who else has she betrayed on his behalf? The Twi’lek frowned in thought. Or had the Sith compromised the Empire for his sister? No, Marr or Acina would have killed him. But Marr was working with Taerich too. That’s two of the Dark Council who kept her in their confidence, yet Shan and his mother worked with them on Yavin, too. Was this a joint effort of treason, or was Taerich acting on her own to help her brother?

A slow smile started to spread across her face. If the image of the venerable Jedi war hero was tainted by a close familial connection to the Dark Council, Taerich and Shan would be unable to skulk under the radar should they return to Republic Space, with fewer people willing to hide them. If Zakuul knew of Taerich’s family connections, it could be what took the pressure off the Republic to produce the Jedi and the rogue spy in her company. And if the Empire was the one under threat from the Eternal Fleet, perhaps the Republic finally had a shot at taking the Sith down, once and for all.

Saresh pressed a button on her desk, and moments later one of her aides appeared before her. “Arrange for a direct call to Emperor Arcann,” she ordered. “I have news regarding the assassin that he will want to hear.”

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter 14)

“You wanted to see me, Chancellor?” Jace stood at parade rest, warily observing the Twi’lek who stood behind the imposing desk. He suspected he already knew what this conversation was about, and his answers hadn’t changed. He swore he could feel his hair turning more grey every time Saresh or Theron crossed his thoughts.

“I did, Commander Malcom.” Saresh rose to her feet and crossed to the large panel of transparisteel that let her view Coruscant’s cityscape. “Tell me what you see.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jace followed the Chancellor to the window and gazed out over the city. “Galactic City, the main spaceport, the Jedi Temple ruins —”

“And above it all, the Eternal Fleet.” Saresh turned to glare at Jace, lekku all but twitching with frustration. “We are in a critical situation, Malcom. Zakuul is poised to reduce Coruscant to slag if we don’t give Emperor Arcann what he wants. I cannot allow trillions of citizens to die because of two people.”

“And, just like the last half a dozen times you’ve asked me for information, I still have no idea where the hell Theron is.”

“I know you’re trying to protect your son, Malcom. But it has come down to his life, and Master Taerich’s, over the entire Republic. And I will not lose my people to the actions of two rogues.”

“The last contact I had with Theron was a Force-damned note from a dead man’s switch,” Jace exploded. “And you and I both know that Director Trant’s last knowledge of Theron’s location was his shuttle being shot down by hunters over Manda after he tried to escape from Rishi. As far as either of us knows, Theron is dead.” He clung to Marcus’ hope that Theron had survived the crash and somehow escaped Manda, but he wasn’t about to let Saresh know that.

“No bodies, no proof. Until I see a corpse myself, Agent Shan still lives — and if he survived, Master Taerich did as well.” Saresh’s eyes narrowed. “Where is his mother? I know Satele Shan was with you. Still trying to woo her back, are you?”

Jace felt his blood pressure mounting at the realization that Saresh had had people tailing Satele, and himself. How much does she know? For a second, he dearly hoped that Satele had lost the people following her and was able to work in peace. “I don’t know,” he growled out. “She said nothing to me before leaving.”

“Leaving to rendezvous with your bastard lovechild, you mean. Or meeting up with a rebel cell or the Jedi remnants.” Saresh’s eyes flashed sparks. “Is the resistance movement sheltering them?”

“How should I know? I’m not with the resistance!”

“But in league with them, considering your continued refusal to cooperate. Tell me where they are, Malcom, before your join your son and his mother on a list of traitors to the Republic! Or are you already working with Sith Lords like they do?” Saresh smirked coldly. “Is this a treasonous family enterpri—?”

A deafening crash echoed through the office as Jace put his fist through the top of the Chancellor’s desk. For a few heartbeats, the only sounds were of heavy, angry breathing before the old soldier finally spoke. “If you were anyone else,” he growled, his voice low and threatening, “I would put you in a medical ward for that insult. Consider yourself fortunate that I hold too much respect for this office, if not the person occupying it right now.”

Saresh seemed to recover her wits enough to draw herself up and sputter furiously at the Supreme Commander. “What— how dare—! I am the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. You will not speak to me like this!”

“I just did,” Jace snarled as he withdrew his fist from the impressively-sized hole in the desk, ignoring the new cuts and the blood trickling over his tan skin. He stalked to the office door, ignoring the frightened clucking he could hear from Saresh’s lackeys in the seating area, and paused before he could leave. “Even if I knew where my son or Master Taerich were, I would not betray them to the likes of you.”

“You do not have the right to make that decision! You answer to me, Malcom!”

The door opened as Jace slammed his hand on the control panel and turned to glare at Saresh over his shoulder. “I quit,” he growled out before resuming marching out of the office.

The red haze finally faded out of his vision after he stormed into the turbolift and descended to the ground floor of the Senate Tower. Saresh would almost certainly enact retribution on him for his actions, and resignation from his post left him all but defenceless against the political machinations. He glanced upward to where he knew his ship waited and smirked to himself. It had been a long time since he’d left Coruscant, and he was sure the personnel loyal to him would be delighted to get off-world as well, even if they were jumping into the resistance…

He pulled his comm out of his pocket and keyed in Captain Dorne’s frequency. The sooner his people were offworld and en route to join the resistance cell sheltered by Charle Organa, the better.

An hour of poking and scanning Xaja had not provided anyone in the apartment with answers for the strange block from the Force that she was still experiencing. “This doesn’t make sense,” Sorand muttered as he paced through the room, scowling at the datapad in his hand. It displayed all the medical data collected on her. “You’re showing fine on all counts from a medical perspective. Why are you still Force-blocked?”

“Don’t look at me,” Doc muttered with a yawn as he set down his own scanner and stretched. “I understand medicine, not Force stuff. That’s your department.”

“What makes you think we understand Force business?” Xaja dryly commented as she rubbed at her temples. She still had a pounding headache from her last attempt to use the Force, and the painkillers Lokin had given her still hadn’t kicked in fully. “We make this shit up as we go and hope for an explanation that sticks.”

“She’s not wrong.” Sorand shook his head in agreement. “Do you feel okay otherwise, Xaj?”

“My brain feels foggy and I’ve still got a headache, but I’m otherwise okay.” Xaja frowned at the tabletop as Theron soothingly rubbed her back. “I feel like a kriffing Padawan again.”

“So, almost as legendary as normal for you.” Theron smirked reassuringly. “Still kicking ass and being a hero. Who was that fallen Jedi you defeated on Tython before even being Knighted?”

“Him? He was…” Xaja frowned. She could see the Nautolan’s face in her mind, hear his baritone voice, even remember her fury and her fear when she saw him moving in to kill Master Orgus… She could remember the way he’d jumped into a skirmish to guard her back on Corellia, years later. Why the hell couldn’t she remember who he was? “… Kriff, I know his name…”

“Maybe you just need some caf,” Theron suggested, still rubbing her back. He appeared to be quite reluctant to stop touching Xaja after almost losing her.  “You’ve had a few stressful days, and last night didn’t help much with that.”

“And your memory’s not the greatest before you get caffeine,” Doc added with a mutter. “Anyone else want some while I’m heading that way?”

“Sure, if you’re offering.” Sorand sat on the caf table in front of Xaja and raised his hands up to her head as Doc meandered out of the room, probably going to join Reanden and Lokin in the kitchen. “Trust me to do another Force-scan? It shouldn’t hurt like last time.”

“Go ahead.” Xaja’s hand drifted to the side, feeling around until she found Theron’s fingers and squeezed. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Some sort of weird cataclysm in the Force that warps the boundary between Dark and Light Side and burns the Force out of both of us?” Sorand shrugged at the bemused looks he got for that. “Hey, you asked!”

“Very funny,” Xaja muttered as she felt the first brushes of cool darkness against her mind. She shuddered as the cold trickled down over her spine and up over her brain, but at least this wasn’t burning again. She stayed still as the current paused at the bright point that was Theron’s bond with her, curiously poking at it. Later, she silently promised, and felt Sorand nod as he continued his examination. The cold drifted away from the bond, passing over the rest of her mind, brushing over the dark, locked portion where her worst memories lurked —

Golden eyes. White beard. A rage and hatred so intense that it made Xaja nauseous. And a cold, cruel laugh echoing through her mind…

The cold retreated from her mind fast enough to give her a sensation of whiplash, and she felt Sorand’s alarm thrumming on powerful currents through the Force. “Theron, leave us for a minute,” the Sith said. He was trying to sound imposing and properly Sith-like, Xaja noted, but she could hear a note of fear in his voice, mingling with the sound of her pulse roaring in her ears.

“Like hell!” Xaja felt Theron’s hand in hers tighten almost painfully as his other arm wrapped around her back. “What the hell did you find in there?”

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Sorand growled, “and I can’t kriffing do that when you’re sitting right here panicking!”

“I’m not panicking!”

“How did a terrible liar like you end up in the SIS? I can feel your fear, Shan.”

“I’m not --! You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, and Xaja’s spooked badly.” Xaja could hear the note of fiercely protective anger in Theron’s voice as he tightened his hold on her. “You found something that’s scaring you both and you won’t tell me!”

“And I would be able to find a way to fix it if you weren’t sitting here distracting me!”

Xaja opened her mouth to get her brother and her lover to quit arguing, but the words stuck in her throat. How could she voice the horror that was in her head when she couldn’t even come to terms with the terrible possibility that the monster who’d tortured her, raped her mind for months, forced her will to bend to his, and wiped all the life from Ziost was — no, he can’t be. It’s impossible, right? It can’t be. This isn’t happening to me. It can’t be… What would Theron do if he knew? Fear lodged itself into a hard lump in her throat, and it was an effort to speak past it. She swallowed hard and tried to speak again. “It’s okay, Theron,” she finally managed to get out, and felt like choking on the lie. “Sorand’s right when he says he needs to be able to concentrate…”

“On something that’s scaring you -- badly.” Theron’s lips tightened in a frown. “I don’t like this, Xaja…”

Me neither. “I know, love.” Xaja squeezed his hand and forced a small smile for him. “If he can’t fix it, I’ll tell you, promise.” Fear at the idea of telling Theron about the monster in her head made her heart lurch, and she tried to shove it back down. She hated it already, but what would he do? Visions flashed through her mind of him walking away from her or striking her, and those scared her almost as much as the terrible reality she faced now.

Theron reluctantly nodded and kissed her cheek. “Fine. I needed caf anyway. But… will one of you tell me what the kriff is going on?”

“Yes, if you ever give me a chance to figure it out myself,” Sorand muttered as his eyes flashed amber for a moment. “Shoo!”

With a scowl, Theron finally left the room — Xaja listened to the sound of his footsteps descending the stairs to the kitchen. As soon as he was out of earshot, she looked back at her brother, her fear openly displayed on her face. “What the hell was that? How can a memory hurt me like that?”

“That wasn’t a memory, Xaj.” Sorand’s expression had shifted from frustration to worry and fear. “I’ve dealt with enough Force ghosts to know what one looks and feels like, and to know what it’s like when there’s one sharing brainspace with a live being. It…” He paused, swallowed hard, tried to speak again. “… Vitiate’s dead, or Valkorion, or whatever bloody name he’s using. But his spirit’s still around, and it… it picked your head to linger in.” He raked a hand through his long hair, openly nervous. “The Emperor’s ghost is stuck inside your head, Xaja. I�� kriff, I don’t know how to get rid of him.”

Xaja buried her face in her hands, feeling herself shaking. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream, or cry, or throw up, or just curl up in a corner and not move again until the monster was out of her head. She wanted to run and hide — but how could she hide from the demon in her skull? Sorand’s hands grabbing onto her arms and providing her some support helped to ground her to the present moment, but did little to ease the panic racing through her. “What am I going to do?” she brokenly whispered, and felt her brother’s hands tighten reassuringly.

“I don’t know,” Sorand confessed. “I’ve dealt with some powerful Sith ghosts before, but none as stupidly powerful as this psychopath. I wonder if he’s the reason you’re struggling to use the Force now.”

“Maybe?” Xaja shook her head, then looked up at her brother. “You know about Sith ghosts, don’t you know how to get one out of someone’s head?”

“My expertise in ghosts involves absorbing them and stealing their powers, not in performing exorcisms.”

That was enough to jolt Xaja out of her blind panic. She jolted upward, eyes widening in shock. “What?!”

Sorand shifted guiltily before her. “In my defence, I was seventeen and on Darth Thanaton’s shit list for no reason other than being Darth Zash’s surviving student and kinda desperate to, you know, not die terribly! Seventeen-year-olds make poor life choices when they’re terrified!” He raked a hand over his face as he stood up. “Just… don’t tell Dad I told you that. He... thinks I used a holocron.”

“Sorand!”

“What? There were holocrons involved!”

Xaja dropped her face back into her hands, more out of frustration with her brother than from fear now. “How can somebody as smart as you be so dumb?!”

“Let’s go back to ‘seventeen and scared’!” Sorand scowled as he paced in front of Xaja. “Or, better, let’s go back to the current problem and not one I resolved years ago.” For several minutes, silence lingered, broken only by breathing and the soft tread of his feet on the carpet, and Xaja’s internal monologue of panic resuming as she thought about the parasite in her head.

Eventually Sorand sat back down on the caf table, forehead creased in a frown. “Might be a long shot,” he finally said, “but, unless there’s Jedi healers out there I don’t know about, I can think of one thing that might help. How familiar are you with Voss Dreamwalkers?”

Theron scowled as he made his way into the kitchen, the frustration at being kicked out gnawing at him. So maybe he wasn’t a legendary Force healer like Sorand was, or knowledgeable in the ways of the Force itself, but he knew when something was wrong. Anything that made Xaja as scared as he’d sensed was bad news. And Sorand might have tried to brush off his own anxiety, but Theron knew how to read body language -- the Sith was as spooked as his sister. Worse, neither of them would say what was wrong, which frustrated Theron even further.

Bloody Force-users, he silently grumbled as he poured himself a mug of caf and took a sip. He leaned back against the counter as he surveyed the kitchen: Kimble and Lokin were sitting at the table, looking over a datapad and discussing something in medical jargonese that Theron didn’t understand. Xalek stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the rainy dawn of Kaas City. Theron wasn’t sure where the enormous Dashade was, but as long as Khem Val wasn’t stalking him or Xaja, he decided he was okay with not seeing the monster of a alien around.

Reanden stood behind Lokin’s chair, observing the doctors’ chat with a raised eyebrow; he noticed Theron and made his way over to the younger spy. “I’m rather surprised you’re not still up there with Xaja,” he murmured as he took a sip of his own caf.

“Not by choice,” Theron grumbled. “They kicked me out of the room.”

That got a double-take from the older spy. “Wait -- you got kicked out?” Reanden looked almost… concerned. “What happened up there?”

Theron shrugged. “Sorand was doing some sort of Force-scan on Xaja to figure out what’s blocking her access to the Force. I don’t know what he found, but whatever it was scared both of them badly. I got kicked out without either of them telling me what’s wrong.”

“That’s concerning.” Reanden’s mouth tightened in a grim frown. “If whatever’s scaring them is bad enough that Xaja’s not saying anything to you…”

“Okay, good, it’s not just me that thinks something’s wrong with this,” Theron muttered into his caf mug. He glanced up long enough to wave as a sleepy-looking Shara made her way into the kitchen and lurched toward the caf pot, then looked back at Reanden. “You know him better. What would scare him like that?”

“His uncle, Maglion. But Maglion’s never met Xaja, so he wouldn’t have any connection to her to scare her.” Reanden frowned in thought. “No one else living that I can think of. Maybe some sort of Dark Sided… curse or something that got to Xaja while she was ill?” He shrugged. “I know as little of the Force as you.”

“Hmmm.” Theron scowled at his caf. “If it was a carbonite-related problem, it would just piss them off, not scare them, so that rules that out. Maybe the Zaks did something to her with the Force before freezing her?”

“It’s possible,” Reanden slowly acknowledged, “although I don’t know why it wouldn’t have been found before now.” He set his empty mug on the counter and gestured with his head. “C’mon. This is worrying me as much as it is you.”

Theron followed the older spy, still clutching his half-empty mug of caf. “So Sorand isn’t usually all… snippy with his information when it’s a worrying priority?”

“Not typically, no. If he’s acting short-tempered and scared, something’s very wrong.” Reanden frowned as he lead the way to the stairs, pausing to look over his shoulder. “And you can’t tell if anything’s wrong?”

Theron shook his head and frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m not so old that I’m senile, kid. You could tell she had a headache earlier. Did you suddenly miraculously develop Force-sensitivity and all the skills of a Jedi Master?”

Theron blinked, then shrugged, caught in the truth. “No. We… we somehow formed a Force-bond on Rishi, neither of us is sure how that happened. But I can feel her emotions, maybe tell if she’s in pain or not... I think she can do the same with me.”

“Huh.” Reanden paused to give Theron a critical look. “Could be useful, that. I’m not too familiar with Force-bonds, but in concept, it could be a good thing.”

“I think it is. It’s… reassuring to be able to sense her like this,” Theron admitted to the older spy before he could catch himself. “Reminds me she’s still here and not frozen or…” He trailed off, unwilling to give voice to the other alternative.

The sudden pounding on the apartment’s front entry a second later jolted him from his musings on Xaja and their odd bond. Theron froze, alarm racing through his veins as Reanden’s eyes widened. Some deep instinct started screaming at him of immediate danger — nobody would have been banging on the door like that for a friendly social call with Darth Imperius. Was this a rival seeking to take his place on the Dark Council, or had someone found them?

“Upstairs,” Reanden hissed, urgency in his voice as he grabbed Theron’s arm and gave him a firm yank up the stairs. Theron started following the older man, then darted to the side as Sorand came flying down the stairs to his right, eyes wide and mouth set grimly. He just saw the glint of a lightsaber hilt in the younger man’s robe before being hauled back up the stairs and into the sitting room.

Xaja was on her feet already, eyes wide with worry. “Dad? What’s going on?” she asked as the two spies ran into the room. “The Zakuulans?”

“Shh! I’m not sure yet,” Reanden hissed as he pushed Theron at the Jedi, then hurried into the next room. He returned with Theron’s blasters and Xaja’s lightsabers in his hands. “You know how to use a stealth generator, Shan?” he whispered as he handed the younger adults their weapons. Theron nodded, and immediately had Reanden’s personal stealth generator shoved into his hands. “Turn that on and hold onto each other,” the older spy tersely ordered. “It won’t cover more than two people without overcharging, and you’ll be seen if you let go.”

“What about you?” Xaja hissed as she grabbed Theron’s arm once the spy had the generator secured on his own belt.

“Don’t worry about that.” Reanden winked as he snatched his jacket up from a chair and shrugged it on, and a second later he was replaced with a standard-model loader droid. Xaja squeaked in surprise as her father transformed in front of her; Theron couldn’t quite stop a jump of his own. “I’ve been in here long enough to learn a few tricks, baby girl. Just stay quiet and out of the way.”

I have got to learn how he did that, Theron inwardly vowed as he pulled Xaja into a corner of the room. He switched on the stealth generator, barely daring to breathe as Reanden took up a casual-looking position by one of the archive units in the wall. Not knowing details of what was happening downstairs frustrated him though, and he groped behind him until he found Xaja’s hand and clung to her tightly. What the hell is going on down there?

Sorand came flying down the hallway as the pounding on the door became more incessant, fear spiking through his veins despite his best efforts. “Khem!” he called out as he tried to channel his anxiety into frustration and displeasure, as befitted a Darth.

“I hear, little Sith.” Sorand was pretty sure at this point that the name Khem Val reserved for him, once an insult, had now become something of a term of endearment for the stubborn teenager who’d fought his way from the slave pens to the Dark Council. He remained still as he heard the Dashade’s heavy footsteps approaching the front door, followed by the menacing growl. “What do you wish of my master, Zakuulan?”

“… Your master is Darth Imperius, yes?” The Zakuulan-accented voice of the Exarch sounded shaky at first, as though she hadn’t expected to be greeted by an eight-foot-tall monster of an assassin. “Good. He is wanted for aiding and abetting war criminals guilty of terrorism and murder against Zakuul.”

Shit! Sorand wasn’t sure how the Exarch had gotten enough information to be suspicious of him, but that was a question to answer later. Staying out of sight of the foyer, he leaned into the kitchen and frantically waved his arm. He needn’t have been worried about that — Lokin had already heard the Exarch’s accusation, and was hauling Kimble out of the kitchen toward the hidden back exit of the apartment, the younger doctor’s face worryingly pale. Shara had vanished up the stairs, presumably to grab her gear in case of a fight. Xalek lingered, a hand on the hilt of his saber-staff and yellow eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Call Talos,” Sorand hissed to his apprentice, then made eye contact with Lokin and Kimble. “Get to the Raven.” With Talos aboard, and the security systems Andronikos installed before departing Dromund Kaas for Tatooine, his ship should be secure. It could hide a fugitive medic from the Zakuulans… right?

A snarl from the foyer made Sorand’s jerked his attention back toward the entranceway. With a scowl, he started making his way over, pausing only long enough to send a mental nudge of warning through the Force to Xaja before going to greet his visitor. “Enough, Khem,” he said as he strode into the chamber, six-plus feet of flowing black robes and annoyed scowl. “What is the meaning of this, Exarch?”

The golden-haired Exarch had been backed into a corner by a very angry Khem, along with her escort, two Zakuulan Knights and a pair of terrified Imperial soldiers. She straightened as she regained her composure. “You, Imperius,” she haughtily said. “A reliable source has informed us that you yourself are sheltering the terrorist and assassin, Shan and Taerich, and the accomplice they picked up on Rishi—”

“You dare?” Sorand might have a reputation of being the quiet, diplomatic member of the Dark Council, but he also had a reputation of a terrible temper with angry. “You dare to barge into my home and accuse me of harbouring Republic assets?” The fear he felt for his sister and Theron (who he had started to think of as a friend on Rishi) manifested as rage, and he allowed himself a moment to revel in it, feeling his eyes turn sulphuric yellow as the heat of the Dark Side flowed through him. The two Knights suddenly found themselves blasted to either side, knocking over the Imperial soldiers as they were thrown; the Exarch didn’t get a chance to move before she was twisted in a nexus of Dark energy that threatened to drain her very life essence. “You clearly require remedial lessons in how to properly address one of the Dark Council, Exarch. I will not tolerate such rudeness.”

The Exarch’s blue eyes widened in fear and anger as the dark cloud descended around her. “Do not forget which throne I serve, Sith,” she snarled around her fear. “I have every right to speak to a subjected people like —”

Lightning crackled around her as Sorand’s temper flared. “The Sith Empire is still sovereign, interloper. Do not forget into whose realm you are trespassing. Or do your people hold a tradition of marching into other’s homes and accusing them of treason, aiding and abetting war criminals?”

“Emperor Arcann will hear of this —!”

“Certainly. Let him get his sorry shebs* off his damn throne and come talk to me himself if he has a problem… if he can be torn away from the bloody Jedi he’s hunting. I fear him not.” He let the Exarch squirm in the cloud for a moment longer before loosening his grip slightly. “Consider your next words carefully, intruder, lest they be your final words.”

The Exarch opened her mouth, took a glance at the shifting, malevolent Dark energy swirling around her, and seemed to decide that Imperius had earned his place through ruthlessness as much as cleverness. The Dashade lurking behind the human Sith did nothing to allay mounting her fears, and she swallowed hard before speaking again. “We… are investigating reports that an associate of the assassin and the traitor was seen here. We, uh…” She glanced back at her stunned escort, then looked back to Sorand. “We would like to, umm… verify your innocence in the matter… my lord?”

For several long heartbeats, silence lingered in the foyer before Sorand finally said “Better, Exarch,” and released the cloud. He didn’t release his anger though — he could feel his eyes burning with the Dark Side. “We will not have this discussion again.” Behind him, Khem growled with what Sorand had learned to recognize as anticipation of a meal. It was certainly enough to make the Zakuulans flinch as they scurried past him into the main portion of the apartment, almost right into an older-model worker droid.

“For pity’s sake,” Sorand growled, still in his Imperius persona as he scowled at the ‘droid’. He’d seen his father pull this disguise before, knew the old spy was making a desperate effort to get Xaja and Theron safely out of the apartment… but where the kriff was his sister? “Where in the blazes is your —”

“Sorry, cyar’ika*.” Shara appeared a few paces behind the droid, all kitted up in her green beskar’gam*. She sauntered up to him as the droid lurched its way over to the lift. “I’m gettin’ Bolts outta here… if this damn thing ever moves more than a step a minute…”

The Exarch turned with a frown to regard Shara as she lazily followed the droid. “You’re the one they called the Champion of the Great Hunt. What business do you have here?” Suspicion narrowed her blue eyes, swiftly followed by alarm as lightning crackled threateningly around Sorand’s hand.

Shara paused in her steps, exchanging a sidelong glance with Sorand. She then looked back to the Exarch, giving a sneer. “Don’t you know? I’m Imperius’ favourite.” She tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “I mean, if you really gotta know details, he’s damn good in bed. Didja know the Force is good for —”

“Let’s not spill all our secrets, Shar’ika.” It was with great effort that Sorand didn’t blush as Shara’s grin got wider. He looked away from the embarrassed Exarch and returned the grin, switching to Mando’a. He desperately hoped the Zakuulan hadn’t bothered to learn the language. “Tsikador te Shereshoy. Mhi ret linibar bas’lan shev’la.*” Better safe than sorry.

“Kih’parjai, darjetii.” Shara winked at him as she entered the lift with the droid, standing well away from the back wall, almost as if she was making space for two others hiding under a stealth generator. “Cuyir ulyc*.” Sorand just caught a glimpse of real worry in the Mandalorian’s eyes as she slid her helmet onto her head. The door slid closed and she vanished from his sight, her Force-presence rapidly descending… and not alone either.

Satisfied that his wife had gotten his father and sister, and her partner to relative safety, Sorand turned back to the Exarch and raised an eyebrow. “Come, let us get this farce of an investigation over with, before I find more reason to feed you to my Dashade.”

Mando’a translations!

*ass *sweetheart *armour * -ika is an affectionate suffix for someone’s name, like a nickname. *Prepare the Shereshoy. We may need to enact bas’lan shev’la (a strategic withdrawal -- disappearing for safety). *No problem, Sith. Be careful.

[keldae]

“Holy shit, you know Santa!”

(editing language and vocabulary for universe and participants in the scene XD)

“You know the Force ghost?!” Daenril Shan stared in awed amazement at his older cousin. Cuyan Verhayc-Taerich was a whole five years older than the four-year-old, which therefore meant he knew everything. And if he didn’t know it, his big sister Rav did because she was a whole ten years old.

(But who wanted to ask a girl about things?)

Cuyan emphatically nodded. “Yeah! Me and Rav, we’ve both seen him! He’s a nice old-looking guy with white hair, and he smiles all friendly-like. Dad says most ghosts aren’t nice, but he is!”

“You an’ Rav both saw’d him?” Daenril’s jaw dropped before his eyes suddenly squinted in suspicion. “Mama says the ghost doesn’t come if we’s still ‘wake. She says all the kids gotta be asleeps first!”

Cuyan shifted his feet guiltily. “Me an’ Rav were asleep. And then Rav set an alarm so we could sneak out to see him. See, the ghost doesn’t leave if you wake up while he’s leaving the presents!”

“…. Oh.” Daenril frowned in thought as he re-evaluated everything his parents (and Granddad Reanden) had told him about the Life Day ghost. “Does the ghost visit on Mandalore too?”

“Yeah!” Cuyan emphatically nodded again, hard enough to make his shaggy dark hair shift around on his head. “Dad says the ghost can got to everywhere in the whole galaxy on one Life Day. He’s a magic Force ghost.”

Uncle Sorand was something of an expert in Force-ghosts, or so Mama had said. Daenril guessed his uncle was probably correct on the matter. “Even Zakuul? An’ Cor’scant? An’ Dro…. an’ Drommin Kaas?”

“Dro-mund Kaas, Daenril. And yep!” Cuyan nodded. His neck had to be hurting now. “An’ Uncle Korin says he’s so magical, he can pick up presents for others an’ deliver ‘em!”

“Whaaat?”

“Yeah! ‘s now Ba’buir gets his presents to Odessen when he can’t visit here.”

“… That’s how Grandpa Jace sends presents? He gives ‘em to the ghost?! I thought he gived them to Daddy!”

“Yep!” Cuyan frowned. “Auntie Xaja said the ghost only sometimes comes to grownups. She said most grownups are too grumpy an’ adulty an’ grown up to see the ghost, ‘cos they don’t believe he exists.”

Daenril’s jaw dropped. “But why??”

“Dunno. Uncle Korin says most grownups stop having fun an’ the ghost only likes fun people. ‘s why Auntie Lana’s never seen him.”

“Is that why Auntie Lana throwed a book at Uncle Korin?”

“Yep.”

Daenril giggled. Auntie Lana and Uncle Korin bickering was almost as funny as Auntie Lana and Daddy arguing. Even if Mama always looked… what was the word Granddad used? ‘Exasperated’. “If we can gets a holo of the ghost, maybe Auntie Lana starts has’ing fun an’ the ghost lets her see him too?”

“Hmmmm.” Cuyan’s face wrinkled in thought. “Dad said ghosts don’t like being on holo.”

“But maybe if we ask real nicely! Mama says asking works most ‘times, with ‘please’ too.”

“Ooooh, manners. Granddad said the ghost likes good manners.” Cuyan grinned. “Rav’s got a holocam! We’ll get her to help!”

“An’ we’ll sneak awake for the ghost!” Daenril giggled again at his and his cousin’s plan. “’s foo’proof!” That was one of Uncle Korin’s favourite words.

“FooLproof.” But Cuyan still looked and felt excited. “I’ll go find Rav now!”

“Remember, buddy, the ghost doesn’t come until all the kids are asleep.” Daddy sat on the edge of Daenril’s bed to tuck him in, the glow from the child’s nightlight reflected off his implants. “So the sooner you close your eyes and start dreaming…”

“The sooner the ghost comes an’ it’s Life Day!” Daenril giggled excitedly, all but vibrating at his and Cuyan (and Rav’s) secret plan to wait for the ghost. “I s’eep right now, Daddy!”

Daddy paused and gave Daenril an inquisitive look. “You’re suspiciously hyper for somebody who’s supposed to be sleeping right away.”

“I not hyper!” Another giggle. “Just ‘xcited!”

“How did I know that last cookie before bedtime was a bad idea?…” Daddy sighed and looked up at the ceiling, then back down as Daenril giggled again. “You sound like you’re up to something, squirt.”

Uh-oh. Daddy couldn’t find out the plan to see the ghost! Daenril quickly sat up and emphatically shook his head. “Nu-uh, Daddy. I’s up to nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” Daddy grinned, and suddenly Daenril shrieked as he was tickled, giggling around his squirming to get away from his father’s fingers. “You sure you’re up to nothing?”

“No, Daddy!” Daenril laughed and rolled frantically to the side, and would have fallen out of bed if Daddy hadn’t caught him. “Nothing! Me an’ Cuyan an’ Rav aren’t gonna sneak up an’ see the ghost!” That would totally fool Daddy, right?

“You and Cuyan and Rav aren’t going to sneak awake and see the ghost?” Daddy sounded like he was trying to not laugh.

“Nu-uh!” Daenril shook his head. “Not even a bit!”

“I’m sure the ghost will be happy to know that.” Daddy chuckled and tucked Daenril back into bed, and made sure his favourite stuffed nerf from Grandma Satele was in the blankets beside him. “Sweet dreams, buddy.”

“Is you an’ Mama going to sleeps too?”

“Soon. We need to finish setting up everything for the ghost.”

“Don’t forget the cookies, Daddy!”

“Oh, don’t worry. The cookies are the most important part for the ghost.” Daddy grinned and leaned down to kiss Daenril’s forehead. “Good night, squirt.”

“Night, Daddy!” Daenril squirmed down into the blankets and squeezed his eyes shut to convince his daddy that he was actually going to sleep fast tonight, and even added a fake snore for good measure. He heard what sounded like Daddy choking on a laugh right before his door was closed and footsteps quietly walked away.

If Daenril strained his ears, he could just hear Daddy quietly talking with Uncle Sorand out in the sitting room. “I’ve been well-assured that there are absolutely no plans to stay up and catch the ghost this year,” his voice drifted back with a quiet laugh.

“Strangely enough, Cuyan said the same thing.” Uncle Sorand’s Force-signature flared in Daenril’s senses with a feeling of amusement. “I’m sure Rav hiding her holocam under her pillow is a coincidence.”

“Of course.” Daddy chuckled. “Need a hand getting things set up?”

“Sure, if you’re offering. Xaja and Korin are getting everything out at least…”

Daenril grinned and burrowed deeper under the covers, waiting impatiently for the grownups to be finished setting up the sitting room for the ghost. They took so long though – he was almost actually asleep for real when his door slid open and Mama came in to check on him with a little kiss to his hair. The little snore he gave her had to convince her that he was really asleep, and maybe being cute from the way she tried to not laugh. 

Except that he wasn’t cute. He was too big to be cute. He was strong and handsome and tough, or so Uncle Korin said. Cute was for babies, or so he’d tried to explain to Mama so many times already (not that he thought she was getting it, since she kept trying to not laugh. Daddy and Granddad had both been less than helpful, because Daddy had just sat there with a grin and Granddad had hurried out of the room to burst into laughter.).

He cracked his eyes open as Mama finally left his room, catching a glimpse of her bright red hair just before the door slid closed again. The grownups all moved down away to their bedrooms, and the lights were turned off, and minutes later the door cracked open again. “You didn’t fall asleep, didja?” Cuyan whispered.

“No way!” Daenril scrambled out of bed and grabbed his nerf and his favourite soft blanket. “Where’s Rav?”

“Settin’ up our vantage point.” Cuyan rolled his eyes when Daenril stared in confusion. “That’s our spying place so we can see the ghost without getting caught.”

“Oh!” It paid to have smart Mandalorians for cousins who knew big words and terms like that. “Let’s go! The ghost will be here soon!”

Cuyan grinned and hurried down the hallway with his little cousin. True to his word, Rav had already set up their spying place with cushions from the couch and throw blankets, and was waiting with her trusty holocam and a grin. Daenril squirmed into the space between his cousins, Rav’s golden blonde curls brushing over his head and Cuyan’s arm draped over his back, and settled in to wait.

“Daenril!” Rav was shaking his shoulder insistently. The smaller child was startled to realize he’d dozed off. “Look! The ghost’s here!”

With a start, the little boy blinked himself awake and looked out from their blanket fort as Cuyan squirmed up beside him. He squinted out into the dark sitting room, illuminated only by the faint golden glow of the Life Day tree (a real tree that Uncle Sorand and Uncle Torian had brought in and strung up with lights, not one of the holotrees that Uncle Korin had offered). For a long moment, he couldn’t see anything, and frowned in dismay.

Then he saw the faint blue glow illuminating a humanoid shape and gasped, and almost ignored Cuyan elbowing him with a hissed “Shush!” He stared as the shape became brighter and more real. The ghost had long, dark robes, and long hair to his shoulders, although it was way darker than he’d thought it would be. For a minute, he wondered if this was a Sith ghost, even though he’d been assured by everyone knowledgeable on the subject that the ghost was friendly.

Then the ghost turned around and looked right at the cousins hiding in their blanket fort, and Daenril wasn’t sure what got his attention more: the scars on the ghost’s face, or his gentle hazel eyes. “Why, you three are up late,” he softly said, his voice low and rich and sounding like he was trying to not laugh.

“You’re the ghost!” Daenril squirmed out of the blanket fort and sat at the ghost’s feet, staring up at him in awe. “You’re real!”

“Told you!” Cuyan piped up as he joined Daenril. For all that he was a nine-year-old Mandalorian and tougher than almost everyone else who wasn’t a grownup already, he was still staring at the ghost in delight.

The ghost chuckled and knelt to look at the children easier. “Yes, I am. And you three are quite brave and stubborn to stay up this late looking for me.”

“Mama and Daddy said you don’t come when we’s not ‘sleep, so we fooled them!” Daenril beamed, quite proud of himself. One day he would be as good a spy as Daddy and Granddad!

The ghost’s grin got wider. “Yes, you did fool them.” His eyes twinkled as he glanced toward the hallway, like he knew something the children didn’t. “Very sneaky of you.”

Rav grinned as she settled in beside the boys. “Mister Ghost, sir… our uncle says that most grownups can’t see you, and most of ‘em don’t think you’re real. Can we get a holo to show ‘em?”

“Unfortunately, little one, a holo won’t work. Ghosts don’t show up in holos.” The ghost settled in to sit fully on the wampa rug on the floor. “Part of believing that I exist is just blind faith. Most children never ever see me, you know.”

“Oh.” Daenril looked over at his cousins. “How’re we gonna show Auntie Lana?”

“Ah, you’re talking about your Auntie Lana? I’ve got a secret for you.” The ghost gestured for the children to lean closer. “She already knows all about me. She just has to pretend that she doesn’t.”

“Why?”

The ghost hesitated. “Because… uh, it’s what helps me be able to get all over the galaxy in one night. The longer she can convince everyone she doesn’t think I’m real, the longer she can help me. But as soon as she realizes somebody knows the truth–”

“It’s a big secret then!” Cuyan hissed, eyes wide.

“Exactly.” The ghost seemed almost relieved. “So you mustn’t ever tell anyone that you know the truth, otherwise she can’t help me anymore.”

“We won’t!” Daenril nodded emphatically. “’Cos you gotta bring all the presents to all of everyone!”

“That’s right.” The ghost ruffled Daenril’s reddish-brown hair. It felt like a puff of air over his head. “And speaking of which…”

“You brought presents here!” Rav all but bounced upward.

The ghost laughed. “Yes, but I can’t leave them here until you’re asleep for real!” He made a shoo’ing motion back to the blanket fort, and waited until all three children had bundled themselves back into the pillows. “Sleep well, young ones.”

“Mister Ghost?” Daenril looked up as the ghost got back to his feet. “Are we gonna see you ‘gain next year?”

“Perhaps.” The ghost winked. “We shall see.” He waved his hand, just like the mind tricks Mama sometimes used, and Daenril felt his eyelids suddenly growing heavy. “Happy Life Day, little ones,” the ghost murmured. Daenril just felt his fuzzy blanket being tugged with the Force over his shoulders and his nerf being bundled tighter under his arm, and then he felt nothing but contented sleep.

She felt something. Xaja sat up and frowned at the sensation of a strong Force-presence in the sitting room. It wasn’t Sorand, who was asleep; Korin and her father were both out cold, as was Theron, and none of them had the same strength of that presence. Lana was in her own home, and Master Satele wasn’t arriving until the next day with Jace Malcom. And the presence most definitely wasn’t Senya or Arcann, both of whom were on Zakuul. Then who…

The former Jedi slipped out of bed and shrugged one of Theron’s sweatshirts on over her head, and padded down the hallway on silent bare feet. No feelings of danger– that was good. She poked her head into the sitting room, and smiled when she saw her son and her niece and nephew curled up in a blanket fort, all sound asleep. Not sneaking up to see the ghost, my ass. Four year olds had never been good liars, which was her and Theron’s only saving grace with their mischievous son.

Then she saw the blue glow as the ghost returned and instinctively reached a hand back to her and Theron’s room, and one of the lightsabers she’d left on her bedside table. The ghost quickly raised his hands. “At ease, Master Taerich. I’ve already had enough of an ass-kicking from you to last a few lifetimes.”

“You’re the ghost? You, of all people?” Xaja shook her head. “For kriff’s sake, Revan!”

Revan shrugged. “I spent three hundred years in captivity and not able to see my own son, or any of my descendants until Satele and Theron, and we both know how much I karked that up. Let me have a chance to be Grandpa Revan this once!” He looked back over at the blanket fort. “The children are perfectly fine, I promise. They’re just asleep, for real this time.” He lingered as Xaja slipped around him to check on the children, not at ease until she saw all three breathing and smiling contentedly in their sleep, Daenril curled up against Cuyan’s back with his stuffed nerf tightly in his arms.

The redhead finally sat back as she brushed her fingers through Rav’s blonde locks. “Revan, the Prodigal Knight, one-time Dark Lord of the Sith, and Guy With The Worst Ideas For Galactic Peace Ever, now moonlighting as the benevolent ghost of Life Day. Nobody would ever believe it.”

“I know. It’s quite liberating.” Revan smiled affectionately at the children, then looked back at Xaja and offered her a bow. “A merry Life Day to you, Master Taerich.”

She blinked, and he was gone, his presence fading back into the Force. “Son of a bitch,” she finally murmured, shaking her head as she checked on the children again. Really, she should move at least her son back to his own bed, but he seemed so comfortable right now. The former Jedi smiled and pressed a gentle kiss into her son’s hair before getting up and returning back to her own bed. Theron would never believe this… she mused as she slipped back under the blankets and snuggled up to Theron’s back, and felt him roll over in his sleep and tug her close against him. Maybe it was just the cookies. Yeah. That was it…

She stayed very quiet when she saw the plush replica of the Ebon Hawk under Daenril’s arm the next morning beside the nerf, when she knew it hadn’t come from her or Theron.

[keldae]

Inspired by @theswtorblog! I technically COULD just write out the entire backstory for Clan Taerich. I probably should, too.

But I’m lazy. So here’s the Sparknotes Summary of the Taerich Legacy!

12 BTC: Reanden Taerich, a new graduate of Intelligence Training School, meets a pretty Jedi woman on Alderaan. After trying and failing to kill each other multiple times, Reanden and the Jedi, one Aerdna Drallig, realized they’d fallen for each other. Somewhere around this point, Reanden starts supplying information to the SIS and swaps loyalties to the Republic. He keeps this hidden from everyone, especially his younger brother, Lord Maglion (known eventually as the Emperor’s Wrath).

7 BTC: Xaja Taerich is born on Lavisar. With the Empire closing in on the neutral sector where Lavisar’s located, her parents make the decision to send her to Coruscant for Jedi training while they still can so she doesn’t ever face Korriban.

5 BTC: Korin Taerich is born. He’s not as strong in the Force as his sister, but Aerdna still tries to hide him from any chance of ever winding up on Korriban.

3 BTC: Sorand Taerich is born. He’s every bit as strong in the Force as Xaja, enough that when he’s born in what is now definitively Imperial territory, Aerdna goes “... Shit. I can’t hide this kid.”

0 BTC: The Sacking occurs and the Jedi Temple on Coruscant is destroyed. Xaja Taerich is presumed deceased by her parents, although she managed to escape through the sublevels into the Works.

3 ATC: Having spent the last three years thieving and begging to survive, Xaja stows away on a ship bound for Ord Mantell. She immediately falls back on her old habits of pick-pocketing unsuspecting victims who don’t look at a little girl, but makes the fortunate mistake of trying to steal from a Jedi Padawan. The Padawan’s Master realizes this child is a Jedi survivor from Coruscant and takes her back to their enclave on Dantooine.

7 ATC: While Reanden is offworld doing super-secret spy things, raiders secretly backed by Maglion attack the town where Reanden’s family lives. Korin escapes the raid by stowing away on a passing smuggler’s ship and eventually makes it to Nar Shaddaa (he gets informally adopted by the smugglers and learns everything they know). Aerdna is killed trying to defend her home (the last time she takes up her lightsabers) and Sorand is captured and taken as a slave. When Reanden rushes home, he vows to avenge his wife and find his missing sons. Far away on Dantooine, Xaja wakes up screaming from a nightmare in which she witnessed her mother’s death.

12 ATC: Xaja is transferred to Tython and begins training under Master Orgus Din. Begin Knight storyline.

14 ATC: While doing more super-secret spy things, Reanden catches rumour of another group of slavers trading primarily children. He goes to investigate and realizes Sorand is in that group (Sorand has developed something of a reputation as a troublemaker and a constant attempted escape artist with other slavers, and although he’s never gotten free himself, he’s helped several other children escape). When Reanden tries to rescue his son, the slavers shoot him and leave him for dead. Sorand witnesses this, and believing that his father is dead, goes psychotic and channels the Force publicly for the first time, killing one of the slavers with lightning before he’s overpowered. A passing Sith sees this and immediately claims Sorand for Korriban. Begin Inquisitor storyline.

15 ATC: After recovering from his injuries and seething over losing track of Sorand, Reanden re-enters the Intelligence corps and is assigned to Hutta. Begin Agent storyline. Around the same time, Korin (now a fully-fledged smuggler captain in his own right) accepts a contract to deliver blasters to Ord Mantell. Begin Smuggler storyline. 

16 ATC: Reanden finds the slavers who’d shot him and taken Sorand away from him again. He determines that his son was sent to Korriban before killing the entire crew. Ironically enough, Sorand has been tracking down those same slavers ever since he was taken as Zash’s apprentice with the goal of revenge for his father’s death, and tracks them down only days later. He’s thoroughly annoyed to find out that someone’s gotten there first, but Revel points out that the executions look like revenge killings. Sorand does more digging over the years and starts to suspect that his father might not be as dead as he’d thought. Reanden gets assigned to go as a double-agent with the SIS, and because people in the SIS suck at communicating, Kothe doesn’t know that Reanden’s been an SIS agent for years. Go mental programming!

17 ATC: Xaja’s strike team arrives on the Emperor’s battle station, and it goes every bit as poorly as everyone who’s played the Knight story knows. Still in recovery from freeing himself from the mental programming, Reanden catches wind of new Jedi-turned-Acolytes, hears his daughter’s name listed among the captives, and drops everything to get on board the station. He’s there when Orgus Din’s ghost helps Xaja break free of Vitiate’s mind control, and works with Scourge to get her and her crew out of Imperial Space. He then dives back into his regular SIS/Intelligence work before he can be caught.

18 ATC: Sorand’s on Voss, getting mental healing from the Force-ghosts in his head, when he gets in a duel with a Jedi Knight. He stops fighting when he hears her Padawan say “Master Taerich”, and introduces himself as Sorand Taerich. Xaja figures out that this must be her brother. They part on... if not good terms, at least neutral ground, with the silent hope that they never see each other again, for their own sakes.

Also 18 ATC: Korin and Reanden literally run into each other (it was dark and Corellia’s a bitch to navigate when it’s not a warzone, to be entirely fair). Korin recognizes his father and nearly has a heart attack, because he’d been convinced his entire family was dead. Reanden is relieved to know that one of his sons is alive and free, and tells him that his sister’s still alive.

Still 18 ATC: Xaja is successful in her assassination of the Emperor (or so she thinks). Korin resolves his little misunderstanding with Rogun the Butcher and takes down the Voidwolf. Reanden parts amicably with Kothe, agreeing to work for the SIS as a mole in the Empire. Sorand defeats Thanaton and ascends to the Dark Council as Darth Imperius. Not long after, he finally tracks down Reanden. The two agree to keep their father-son relationship hidden, mostly for Sorand’s benefit, but Reanden is brought on as a public adviser to Imperius. Months later, the entire Makeb situation blows up and gets Xaja, Korin, and Reanden all involved. Korin and Reanden wind up working together on the sly, but neither of them become aware of Xaja’s presence. During this time, Sorand winds up getting with the Champion of the Great Hunt, Shara Verhayc (my friend’s OC from an old RP guild I was part of way back when). For obvious reasons, they both keep this a secret.

19 ATC: Xaja and Sorand both wind up on Oricon, but somehow successfully avoid each other the entire time. Not long after, the Shadow of Revan arc begins, and Xaja and Korin finally meet each other. The entire family is reunited on Manaan while tracking down Arkous and Darok.

20 ATC: Ziost happens. Not long after, Xaja is aboard Darth Marr’s flagship when it’s destroyed by the Eternal Fleet, and she’s taken prisoner and presumed KIA.

21 ATC: The Wrath, Maglion (who’s fanatically devoted to Vitiate) tracks down Sorand and tries to kill him. Sorand has just enough warning to escape and fake his own death. He winds up hiding with his wife’s Mandalorian clan. Not long after, Korin meets up with Theron Shan, and agrees to be trained to SIS agent standards to be a personal minion/protege for Theron. They wind up becoming good friends.

25 ATC: Xaja’s broken out of carbonite prison by Lana Beniko and escapes to Odessen, and the rest is history. Reanden, Korin, and Sorand all wind up on Odessen shortly after.

26 ATC: The Wrath, Maglion, makes one final attempt to kill Darth Imperius and the rest of Clan Taerich. He’s finally shot by Reanden, but not before Xaja and Korin both suffer serious injury.

28 ATC: Xaja marries Theron Shan. They have a son, Daenril.

29 ATC: The Train Incident that shall not be named goes down here.