#Star Wars: The Old Republic: Knights of The Eternal Throne | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

swtorpadawan · 2 months ago

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Code Breakers

Author’s Notes: The following story serves as “Part Three” and the conclusion of my In the Shadow of the Hero Trilogy, a storyline that I began with Training Day and Incomplete and featuring my original character in Tyzen Pyne. As with those previous entries, it is part of my expanded Halcyon Legacy, and takes place on Odessen sometime between the Knights of the Fallen Empire and the Knights of the Eternal Throne expansions.

Tyzen Pyne hurried up the hill overlooking the Alliance base on Odessen, joining the many who had already made the trek.

Despite all the bustle and activity – and Tyzen’s lingering anxiety from running late to this gathering – it felt peaceful here.

The Force felt peaceful here.

Looking around, he was awed to see so many people having already assembled.

More than forty individuals were now gathered around the hilltop. Most of them were wearing brown robes of varying styles. Others wore the adaptable armor plating that had become popular during the various conflicts over the years. Others still wore more nondescript garb, clothing that - aside perhaps from the presence of a lightsaber clipped to their belts – would not give away their identities or allegiance.

Jedi. Tyzen marveled.

This was by far the most Jedi that he had seen in one place in years. Not since early in the Zakuulan Invasion, when he and other Padawans had been Knighted on Tython before being sent off to fight.

And to die.

Back before the Republic had given up any hope for victory against the Eternal Empire and before the Jedi Order had been shattered.

As had Tyzen.

And now he was here. On Odessen. Ready to take the fight back to the Zakuulans. Standing amongst the last group of Jedi in the galaxy who could make that claim.

Not for the first time that day, Tyzen thought of Liam Dentiri, his old Master, dead at the hands of some bounty hunter in the pay of Imperials on Tython years ago when the Sith Empire had attacked, prior to the Revanite Crisis.

What would he have thought of his former padawan now?

He was lucky to have learned about this gathering at all, given that his transport – actually a freighter piloted by a friendly smuggler – had only arrived on Odessen late last night, and he’d met only a handful of people in that time.

Fortunately for him, Sana-Rae, the Voss Mystic and leader of the Alliance’s Force Enclave, had kindly informed him of this meeting of all the Jedi who had joined the Alliance when he’d gone to meet her.

Tyzen regarded the crowd, trying to see if he could recognize anyone in all the small clusters of Jedi congregating amongst themselves.

Although a diverse group by nature, one Jedi stood out to him immediately, her blue skin and red eyes giving her a distinct appearance.

He had never met Master Dazh Ranos, one of the exceedingly rare Chiss who had left their Ascendency to serve with the Jedi Order. But Tyzen had heard rumors about her back on Tython. Despite her achieving the rank of Master, it was said that the Chiss Jedi had never agreed with the Council’s policies and had eventually withdrawn to make her own place in the galaxy, journeying through the Outer Rim Territories and helping people wherever she could. Tyzen imagined that she had seen parts of the galaxy that had never seen a Jedi, especially at times when so many had been needed closer to the galaxy’s core.

He didn’t recognize the towering Ithorian Jedi standing at her side, but he’d already been told that his name was Choza Raabat. Serving as a Jedi Knight during the Cold War, Raabat had crashed on a distant planet in the Unknown Regions while leading a Republic patrol. Marooned for a decade, the Jedi had eventually returned to a galaxy turned upside down with the Order all but wiped out the Republic suffering through another defeat, this time at the hands of the ascendant Eternal Empire.

Tyzen had heard that the Alliance Commander himself had personally recruited Choza to his cause while on a mission to destroy the Zakuulan Star Fortress above Alderaan some weeks ago. Since then, he – alongside Master Ranos – had taken up a de facto position of leadership among the Alliance Jedi.

That story hadn’t surprised him; Tyzen already had the impression that a great many people had joined the Alliance based on prior meetings with the famous Outlander.

Case in point was the next Jedi he recognized.

Mennaus was a Zabrak Jedi Knight just like Tyzen. The stoic man was only in his mid-thirties but he carried himself like a wizened Jedi Master with decades of experience, seeming to speak only when he had something to say, but doing so with an impressive gravity.

Tyzen had met Mennaus two years ago on Coruscant. Well beneath the surface, of course. Places like the Works were one of the few places left on the Republic capital where they could avoid detection from Zakuul and their dreaded Fortresses. Mennaus had impressed Tyzen with his bearing and resolve; the man seemed to have endured the difficult years in the Coruscanti underground surprisingly well. They had exchanged information, then spoken briefly about easier days back on Tython. Mennaus revealed that, years before on Tython, he had once been saved by a fellow Padawan during the Flesh Raider Uprising.

That same Padawan, nearly thirteen years later, now commanded the Alliance.

As he recognized more individuals from the crowd, Tyzen looked around, trying to pick out the Alliance Commander. Sana-Rae had told him that it had been the Outlander himself who had called this meeting. Perhaps he was still making his way from the base.

Tyzen deeply regretted not being able to meet with the Commander since his arrival on Odessen the day before. There were things he wanted to say to him. And to ask him.

After all, he hadn’t seen Corellan Halcyon in seven years.

Tyzen had only met Master Corellan twice before, but both encounters had left a profound impression on his life. He very much would have liked the chance to reintroduce himself to the man once known to the galaxy as the Hero of Tython.

He probably won’t even remember me. Tyzen reminded himself, regretfully.

To many Jedi of Tyzen’s generation, the last class of Jedi Knights to have come of age on Tython before ‘The Fall’, Corellan Halcyon, the venerated Hero of Tython, was the reason the words ‘I am a Jedi’ meant something.

Before Master Corellan had disappeared, presumed killed in action. Just before the Zakuulan Invasion had begun.

Tyzen hoped he had grown up somewhat since those earlier encounters with the famed Hero of Tython. Perhaps not that much taller; his body has stopped growing vertically around seventeen. He’d filled out a bit; his muscles developing and his shoulders growing wider and more confident. Still, overall his build had remained relatively lean and agile, as it had been when he’d been a Padawan.

But his eyes had seen more of the galaxy.

Perhaps too much.

True, Tyzen had not been present for The Fall when – despite a heroic effort and countless sacrifices – the Jedi and their Republic allies on Tython had broken. When Master Satele, the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, had gone missing, apparently on some unsanctioned personal mission. The only members of the Council still active, Masters Ulannium and Gnost-Dural, had evacuated the Temple and the fabled Jedi home world, taking with them all the Jedi they could save and leading them into exile.

Denielle had gone with them.

Denielle.

He’d tried not to think about her over the years. He’d also tried not to think about her smile. Her laugh. Her kindness. Her touch.

Above all, he’d tried not to think about the sensation of her soft lips pressed against his.

It had all been a mistake. He’d told himself after they’d ended it. The Masters had always preached against such “connections”.

But Tyzen couldn’t deny their all too brief relationship had left a mark upon his soul. He still felt her absence from his life keenly, even after all this time.

It had been more than five years since he had seen her.

Not since that night on Tatooine when she’d departed off-world with the other Jedi from their combat group, fully understanding that her next battle would be on Tython.

Where the Order would either make good on their escape or face annihilation.

Their parting – he knew other people would have called it a breakup – had been somber. There had been no harsh words; just a regret and acceptance that both of them now felt compelled to follow different paths.

Tyzen understood that Denielle felt that the Jedi on Tython – already preparing to evacuate – needed her aid the most. After all, the fate of the Jedi Order would be decided there.

But there had been people on Tatooine – and countless other worlds – who would need the Jedi’s help. Who needed Tyzen’s help.

And he told himself that Corellan Halcyon wouldn’t have abandoned all those people.

So they had kissed one final time, before Denielle, tears in her eyes, had turned her back to him and left.

Tyzen’s plan to keep fighting on Tatooine had been futile, of course. Within a month, Algrunar, the only other Jedi who had stayed behind, had been killed and what counted for the local government on Tatooine had capitulated. When he’d realized that the people of Tatooine had only suffered more for his presence, Tyzen had finally been forced to flee as well, a local farmer named Galen Besk providing him with a way off-world.

By then, Denielle and the other Jedi had left Tyzen and the rest of the galaxy behind.

He could only hope that she was alright.

Not much later, he’d received a short message from Master Bela Kiwiiks. The encrypted communique had been routed through a secure relay and into his private drop account, no doubt to avoid detection by the Eternal Empire. The Togrutan Jedi had served on the Council for as long as Tyzen could remember, and he’d once helped her evacuate younglings from the Temple during the same battle where Liam Dentiri had met his end.

Master Kiwiiks confirmed to him that most of the surviving Jedi had successfully escaped off Tython and into exile, but that the Force had called on a different path.

Tyzen found that he wasn’t surprised. Master Kiwiiks was still highly regarded for her wisdom and compassion, but she’d be the first to admit that her days as a warrior were long past. He did not fault her for her for making such a choice.

She and her unnamed companions – he suspected they were again younglings, representing the future of the Jedi – were safe for the moment, and she was now caring for those who most needed it.

Tyzen again found that he wasn’t surprised. Master Kiwiiks was a natural caregiver. The council had selected her to oversee the well-being of the Order’s younglings in the first place for a good reason.

She’d somehow known that Tyzen hadn’t been with the Jedi who’d fled Tython and told him that if he needed sanctuary from the Zakuulans, she could offer it.

The offer did not surprise him. She’d always shown him such compassion. That she’d take a risk, however small, to offer him a safe-haven actually seemed natural for her.

When he had declined her offer, Tyzen’s own choice had surprised him a bit.

Fighting the Zakuulans on his own? Without the support of the Jedi? For a Republic that had all but surrendered?

Tyzen had been terrified.

But he knew he couldn’t give up. He had to keep fighting for those who couldn’t flee or protect themselves. If not on Tatooine, then on a hundred other worlds.

Because he knew that the Hero of Tython wouldn’t have given up.

In the dark days that followed, Tyzen helped whomever he could, whenever he could, however he could, while finding food and shelter wherever he could, all the while never staying in the same place for long.

The Eternal Empire’s pogrom against the Jedi had been vicious and even more devastating than what the Order of the Sith had faced. Clearly, Emperor Arcann had determined that if there was a threat of resistance against their rule, the Jedi would have been the most likely source for such a spark of hope for the galaxy.

Now on Odessen, as part of an Alliance led by a Jedi, Tyzen supposed that history had proven that assertion correct.

The so-called ‘Shadow Temple’ network, those Jedi who hadn’t withdrawn from the galaxy and who were now operating in an informal underground, had determined that the few Jedi still active and opposing Zakuul would live longer when they didn’t stay together for longer than was strictly necessary. Occasionally, he’d get word about another Jedi. Sometimes he would hear a bit of gossip that some other Jedi or another was still active and something of their activities.

More often, he’d hear that someone had been caught and killed.

Still, he’d worked with a few other Jedi off and on over the years. Unaw Aharo. Shigar Konshi. Attros Finn. A handful of others. He’d realized one day that most of these individuals were only a few years older than Tyzen himself.

There seemed to be so few of the old Masters still left.

It had been a hard life. And a lonely life.

But he had kept at it. Again, because he knew the Hero of Tython wouldn’t have given up.

Even his cousin, Karache, had eventually reached out to him. He hadn’t seen the Republic Special Forces soldier-turn-independent bounty hunter in more than a decade, but the older Zabrak had nevertheless offered him a place in his crew.

“The Jedi are long gone, Tyzen.” Karache Pyne had declared in his holo-message. “It’s everyone for themselves, out here. Why don’t you come with me? You’d be good in a fight. We can use you.”

By then, Tyzen desperately wanted to say yes. The years had taken a toll on him. Too many cold and hungry nights. Too many allies lost.

Too many friends lost.

Even worse, Tyzen had started to lose hope.

He turned his cousin down, again choosing to follow his own path. The path of the hero.

Because the Hero of Tython wouldn’t have given up.

And now, after nearly five years of fighting, running and hiding, Tyzen found himself here on Odessen. Ready to fight alongside the Hero of Tython.

As if on cue, Tyzen felt a sudden surge in the Force.

The light side of the Force had already felt strong atop this hill, in the presence of so many Jedi. It was peaceful and calming and soothed his wounded soul.

Now it was as if a blinding spotlight were being shown down on them all, even though it was late morning, and the sun was already high in the sky.

It was powerful and invigorating and inspirational.

Had Master Corellan Halcyon been concealing himself, somehow? Hiding behind some nearby bushes, or perhaps a tree a short distance away? Maybe he’d somehow hidden himself through the Force?

It didn’t matter. Tyzen decided. Regardless of where he’d been, he was suddenly there, standing at ease amidst the Jedi. From his confident stance and smile, he’d obviously been watching for some time now, choosing the moment to make his entrance.

Tyzen noted immediately that Corellan wasn’t wearing the distinctive brown Jedi robes or the adaptive body armor he had made famous during his years as the Hero of Tython. Instead he was clad in a new garment; this uniform was elaborate, predominantly white plating with black sleeves and trousers. The accoutrements had a distinctly… Zakuulan flavor, much to Tyzen’s surprise.

But even so, this was who Master Corellan Halcyon, the Hero of Tython, the Battlemaster of the Jedi Order and the champion of the known galaxy, had become.

And if anything, he had become an even greater hero. Just a few weeks ago, Master Corellan had defeated Emperor Arcann in orbit over Odessen, effectively toppling that tyrant from the Eternal Throne. Zakuul was now ruled by Arcann’s sister, Vaylin, who if anything was even more cruel and insane than her brother.

Everyone on Odessen seemed convinced that the Commander and his Alliance would now defeat Empress Vaylin and end the Eternal Empire that had plagued the galaxy for so many years.

Master Corellan himself looked to be in excellent health, despite the countless challenges he had faced. Tyzen had heard, of course, about the five years that he had spent imprisoned in carbonite, isolated from the rest of the galaxy. The reason why he’d been missing for so long. The reason why he’d missed the war. Why he hadn’t been there to save the Jedi, the Republic and the galaxy.

As difficult as the last few years had been for Tyzen, the younger Jedi couldn’t imagine losing so much time off his life.

Still, Corellan looked older. Not physically, exactly. But there was a look in his pale blue eyes that was somehow more… something.

“Thank you all for coming.” Corellan Halcyon formally began the gathering with a welcoming smile. It was the same expression Tyzen had once seen on countless Republic military recruitment posters during the war against the Sith Empire.

The ‘Hero of Tython’ smile.

Looking around, Tyzen could see that the other Jedi had been as startled by Corellan’s sudden appearance as he had been. After a moment of bustle, however, the gathered Jedi settled down to listen.

“I have three matters I wanted to speak with you all about today. Things you all have a right to hear directly from me. I wanted to do so in a place where we had relative privacy.”

His arms opened wide, as if taking in the scenery around them on the hilltop.

“I assure you all, I have seen to it that we may all speak freely here.”

The implication of his declaration was not lost on Tyzen. He recalled hearing that the Alliance’s Chief of Staff, Lana Beniko, was a Sith as well as having once served as the Empire’s Director of Sith Intelligence. Likewise, it was said that there were many other former spies in the Alliance from both the Republic and the Empire, as well as others who would have – until recently at least – had more than enough reason to ‘observe’ the Jedi.

Corellan Halcyon was staking his word that none of these elements would be a concern for them today.

“For the first matter, I’d like to formally thank all of you for making it to Odessen and joining the Alliance. Regardless of whether you were here on the day we laid ground on the base or if you’re only just now arriving, the fact that you were willing to endure such challenges and dangers just to reach this point is remarkable. I know full well that there are many we all would have wished to have with us today who did not make.”

He paused, a somber expression across his face.

Tyzen momentarily thought about the many Jedi had known who’d been killed over the years. He urgently suppressed the emotion as Corellan continued to speak.

“I also know the last several years must have been incredibly difficult for most of you. Both as Jedi and as people.”

Corellan’s eyes drifted among the crowd, turning from Jedi to Jedi, catching several of them in his gaze before continuing on to the next. He finally caught Tyzen himself, and the young Zabrak felt a rush of excitement course through him.

“Likewise, that you would show such trust in me by coming here under such conditions honors me more than I can ever tell you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express my gratitude for that, and I hope to prove myself worthy of it.”

Many of the assembled Jedi gave murmurs of assent and affirmation while others waited patiently. Tyzen distinctly picked up the words “We’re with you, Master Corellan.” from one of the younger Jedi.

Not trusting himself to speak, Tyzen found himself simply nodding. He could not think of anyone better suited to lead this fight against Zakuul than the Hero of Tython. Corellan Halcyon was surely the leader who would lead the Jedi back to glory. He would shatter the Eternal Empire’s grip on power and would usher in a new era of peace to the galaxy.

Nevertheless, Tyzen kept his peace, eager to hear more. Through the eddies of the Force around him, he noted that the words had been well-received and appreciated by the Jedi of the Alliance.

But everyone seemed to understand that this was all prelude to something much more important.

Tyzen hoped he knew what that was. Whether he knew it or not, Corellan Halcyon was now leading the largest active contingent of Jedi in the known galaxy.

Why shouldn’t he declare himself Grandmaster of the Order? Tyzen asked himself, speculating.

The Alliance Commander, after a moment’s pause, pressed on.

“The second matter I wanted to share with you was that we have two new additions to the Alliance who are arriving within in a few days: Leeha Narezz and Jomar Chul. For those who are unfamiliar with them, I can personally attest that both are veteran Jedi Knights of great ability and experience. I have no doubt that their arrival will greatly benefit the Alliance.”

Tyzen recognized the names. He had never met either of those Jedi, but they had been active during the last war against the Sith Empire. If he recalled correctly, Leeha was a famed droid engineer while Jomar had been one of the finest reconnaissance scouts and infiltration experts in the Order before the Eternal Empire’s invasion. Both were just a few years older than Master Corellan.

More recently, he’d heard a rumor that they had served off and on with the Shadow Temple since the invasion these last few years, as had Tyzen.

Corellan paused again, letting another murmur pass through the assembled group before continuing. At some point, this Jedi hero, considered by many the greatest warrior in the galaxy, had learned the art of public speaking. Clearly, he was carefully weighing the mood of his audience.

“With their consent, I am informing you all ahead of their arrival that the two of them have been living openly in a romantic relationship and they have been for several years.”

Tyzen blinked as the resurgence of urgent murmuring resumed, with several of the Jedi present beginning to call out questions for the Alliance Commander. Inevitably, Tyzen himself could only think of his relationship with Denielle with regret.

She had made the choice she’d had to make, and so had he.

That didn’t mean it hurt less.

But for Leeha and Jomar, acknowledging such public breakings from the Jedi code would usually result in their dismissal from the Order.

Corellan calmly waited for the assembled Jedi to digest his words, then held up a forestalling hand. He had clearly expected such a reaction.

Slowly, the crowd became calm.

“For the record, speaking strictly as the Alliance Commander, I meant what I said before. I have no concerns whatsoever about Leeha or Jomar’s ability to reliably serve as members of the Alliance.” He paused. “However, I know that many of you would have concerns about Jedi openly embracing such a… connection. I assure you, Leeha and Jomar are not oblivious to the implications of their relationship for the rest of you.”

There was another pause as the gathered Jedi seemed to collectively nod in understanding.

“As you know, the council is currently absent, and there is no other legitimate authority to govern such matters. Therefore, I leave it to you to decide whether or not they should be considered Jedi. Both Leeha and Jomar have assured me that they will accept whatever judgement you reach without complaint or appeal.”

“For my own part, I would not presume to interfere in your decision. I ask only that you accept them as fellow members of the Alliance, and to treat them with the respect and courtesy that entails. Whether they are Jedi or not is a matter for the Jedi alone to decide.”

These words, perhaps more from their phrasing than their sentiment, caused a stirring of confusion and unease amongst the gathered Jedi. Plainly, this was not what anyone had anticipated.

Tyzen couldn’t help himself. Boldly he stepped forward, raising his hand before calling out.

“Master Corellan! Can’t you just claim the authority to decide the issue?”

Corellan smiled at the questioner, a warm look of recognition catching his eyes.

“Tyzen. It’s been a long time.”

The young Zabrak suddenly felt his face flush, put on the spot amongst the assembled Jedi.

“I’m sorry.” Tyzen looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling younger than his years. It felt like he was a padawan again. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

He overheard a handful of chuckles as a ripple of amusement passed through the gathering.

Corellan’s calming smile just widened.

“Of course I remember you, Tyzen. I never forget anyone I’ve called a friend.”

He looked around.

“For the record, that same sentiment applies for all of you. Whether I knew you before you came to Odessen or if I’ve only met you today, as of now, I regard each one of you as a friend. With the trust you’ve offered me, I could do no less.”

Corellan’s hand pressed against his own chest.

“Regardless of what is decided today or how the war goes, each of you has done more than enough to lay claim to my friendship just by being here.”

“But Tyzen’s question actually leads me directly to the third subject I wanted to speak to you about.”

Corellan composed himself somberly. He clearly had their full attention.

“I have long believed that people should be judged not by what they call themselves, but rather their actions; for those are a reflection of who they are.” He began.

“In my mind, this is a simple creed. One that has served me well over the years and that has allowed me to achieve many accomplishments.”

“Since I returned to the galaxy, I have made many difficult decisions, and those have led me to this point. I do not regret most of these, but I have given many hours of reflection to my choices. And I’ve come to acknowledge the implications of those choices, both for myself and for my role as a Jedi.”

Tyzen felt a growing sense of anxiety in his belly.

“To that point, concerning own my path as the Commander of the Alliance, there are things that I realize that I must do.” Corellan glanced downward for a moment, then turned back up. “Things that, in good conscience, I’ve realized that I couldn’t perform as a Jedi.”

A faint breeze swept through the gathering.

“For this reason, and before all of you as witnesses, I formally resign as a member of the Jedi Order.”

If Corellan’s earlier statements had drawn a murmur of a response, this one built up a firestorm. Almost everyone started speaking all at once.

The Alliance Commander patiently waited out the storm. Whatever he called himself, however he saw himself, he was more than capable of facing such adversity with a calmness that would have shamed any Jedi Master.

After about a minute, Corellan again raised a forestalling hand, deftly cutting off further questions.

“I understand your concerns. Let me assure you that I have every hope that the Order will reform itself in time. Indeed, I expect that it will. Whatever mistakes may have been made over its history it remains my belief that the Jedi have – on balance – been a force for good. For order and justice, yes, but also for peace.”

That seemed to calm the emotions of the assembled Jedi. Still, they listened on tensely.

“However, it is clear to me that I am not the one to lead such a reformation, even if I possessed the wisdom to perform such a feat. The Alliance, the galaxy and perhaps the Force itself… well, as I have said, they require me to be someone else. Someone I’m already well on my way to becoming.”

“I can promise you all that I will do everything in my power not to pressure any of you into doing anything to compromise your own values.” Corellan paused. “It is the same promise I make to everyone who will join us. But I’ve seen far too many leaders – including more than one Jedi – attempt to force their own beliefs on those who followed them. In my experience, that’s led to hypocrisy at best, disaster at worst.”

Corellan’s hands spread wide again, emphasizing the gathering.

“I will not force my beliefs on anyone else, least of all any of you.” He concluded. “I will ask that people follow me, and the Alliance will have a set a procedures and protocols, but that will be as far as it goes. While I lead it, this Alliance will reflect my values, not be a reflection of any dogma I may follow.”

Master Dazh Ranos stepped forward.

“Master Corellan… Commander… forgive me, but I must ask. Is it possible that… someone else is influencing this decision?”

Tyzen blinked in alarm. He had heard the rumor that some remnant of the Sith Emperor – that evil called Valkorion by the Zakuulans – now resided within the consciousness of his greatest enemy in Corellan Halcyon.

He’d rejected the rumor at the time he’d heard it out of hand, but now he wondered if there wasn’t some truth in it.

Rather than rebuking the suggestion out of hand, Corellan simply smiled patiently.

“I understand your question, Master Ranos. In point of fact, yes. It is certainly possible that that is the case.” He paused. “But no. I assure you that I have meditated on this matter for some time, and I can confidently tell you that this is my choice, alone.”

A green-skinned Twi’lek Jedi Knight named Shiri’ah stepped forward, drawing the commander’s attention.

“Then… you don’t think you’re becoming a Sith?” she asked.

“No.” Corellan shook his head sharply, letting out a slight chuckle. “I can claim more experience in dealing with the Sith than nearly any Jedi living and I can confidently tell you that my own path does not involve embracing the dark side.”

Tyzen remembered watching the Commander fight those Imperial Commandoes on Tython years before, when they had been about to slaughter Tyzen and a room full of young Padawans. The Hero of Tython had fought with an intensity that might have shamed any Sith.

But… it hadn’t been passionate. In hindsight, it had felt almost detached. As if it had been someone else doing it all.

Somehow, Tyzen sensed that Corellan Halcyon might have spoken more but had thought better of it.

Corellan paused, looking around at any of the faces that still met his.

“As I imagine that some of you may have doubts to that, I would be willing to be examined by any or all of you to confirm it.”

A long moment of silence fell over the gathering as no one volunteered. The crowd of Jedi seemed mollified by his words. Tyzen remembered that surge in the Force when Corellan had first made his presence known; he could not reconcile that with the feeling he had experienced from any Dark-Sider – Sith or Zakuulan – he had encountered.

After a few seconds, the Alliance Commander seemed to accept their reaction as tacit assent.

“So to properly answer Tyzen’s question, this is why I cannot weigh in on the subject of Leeha Narezz and Jomar Chul remaining as part of the Order. As I have, in effect, broken with the Order and the Code, it would be a terrible conflict of interest for me to interfere.”

Choza Raabat steepled his fingers together.

“I must ask, Commander, what if one or more of our number breaks from the order as a branch breaks away from a tree?”

Corellan nodded gravely.

“I understand the concern of a potential schism within the Order, Choza. For the record, I sincerely hope it does not come to that. But if a Jedi serving in the Alliance chooses to leave the Order or is dismissed by whatever leadership structure you form amongst yourselves, then that is the business of the Jedi, and not myself or the Alliance leadership.”

“Likewise, if anyone here believes that remaining with the Alliance would compromise their own values, they are free to leave. I would not begrudge them their beliefs.”

He paused, letting the implications sink in.

“As I said before, the Alliance has its own rules that I ask all its members to follow. So long as an individual is willing to abide by those rules, they will have a place here, regardless of what the call themselves.”

Choza Raabat said nothing to this but bowed his head in acknowledgement after a moment.

So it went.

The Alliance Commander spent another thirty minutes patiently answering questions. Some were quite heated. Others were insightful. Regardless, Corellan answered all of them calmly. Gradually, the questions grew less philosophical and more technical. He had clearly been prepared for this as well.

Tyzen could not have imagined Satele Shan or one of the other Masters on Tython giving the ‘rank and file’ that amount of latitude to challenge them. Yet Corellan Halcyon had withstood it all at his own insistence, holding up stoically.

Finally, after seemingly everyone had had their fill, he adjourned the meeting.

“Thank you all again. I hope my answers have brought a sense of purpose, but barring that, I hope I have brought clarity. The purpose of the Alliance is to defeat the Eternal Empire and bring peace to the galaxy, and as far as I am concerned, it always will be.”

“I hope you will choose to stay. More than that, though, I hope you will understand and respect my choices. If not today, then in time.”

He crossed his arm across his chest and bowed at the waist.

“Thank you.”

With that, the meeting ended.

As the Jedi began to make their way down the hill and back towards the base, Corellan remained behind, exchanging a few parting words with individuals, most of whom seemed surprisingly optimistic. Despite the difficulties ahead of the Jedi of the Alliance, not to mention the challenge of facing the Eternal Empire, Tyzen somehow didn’t think any of the Jedi would be leaving the Alliance.

The young Zabrak hoped that he would be joining them, soon.

Both in returning to the base and in embracing their apparent sense of optimism.

But first, there was something he had to do.

Finally, he and Corellan were the last two individuals on the hill.

Corellan turned to Tyzen and smiled.

“Somehow, I knew it would be you.”

Tyzen swallowed, approaching the former Jedi Master.

“I was just wondering if I should quit the Jedi, too.”

The older human blinked down at him in confusion.

“Why would you want to do that?”

Tyzen took a deep breath and then he told Corellan everything.

Everything he’d experienced since they’d last met on Tython. About Denielle. About receiving his Knighthood. About the war against Zakuul. About staying behind and continuing to fight in the shadows while most of the surviving Jedi went into exile. About the dark years that followed.

About his fear that the darkness of the war had changed something inside of him.

About fighting for so long and so hard that Tyzen had started to question whether he was still fit to call himself a Jedi.

Corellan merely listened patiently, letting Tyzen get it all off his chest.

“… so now I don’t know if I should leave the Jedi, too.” He concluded.

Having finished, the young Zabrak was surprised to realize that he’d only been talking for about five minutes.

He’d been certain it would have taken hours to relay all his troubles. That they could be summed up so briefly was startling.

Now finished, the young Jedi Knight looked up at the Alliance Commander, hoping for wisdom and guidance. Corellan Halcyon was quietly going over what the younger Zabrak had told him.

After all, he’d been so helpful to him before, back on Tython.

After a long moment, the former Jedi Master exhaled, then spoke.

“That was an awful lot, Tyzen.” Corellan admitted. “I don’t blame you for having doubts, and I doubt anyone else could either.”

He paused, carefully regarding his younger companion.

“You do understand that I can’t tell you what you should do?” Corellan finally said.

Tyzen felt his shoulders drop in disappointment.

“Are you sure? I was hoping you could tell me what I should do next.”

Corellan chuckled, then padded his shoulder affectionately.

“For me, it was different. I had to break from the Jedi. If I hadn’t… well, I’ve seen what happened to Jedi who didn’t know the difference between following the Jedi path and following their own.”

“I couldn’t let that happen with myself.”

The Commander looked up at the sky.

“If I hadn’t made this choice, I think that the conflict within me, the same conflict that lies within all of us… it would have consumed me. Like it did Revan.”

Tyzen blinked, startled at this revelation. He’d heard stories about Yavin from before the invasion. He couldn’t imagine what that had been like for Corellan, and he certainly didn’t want to ask.

“You think you would have fallen to the dark side?”

Corellan tilted his head in assent, giving a sort of half-nod.

“Or worse.”

He then reached out, grasping the Zabrak’s shoulder again and turning him away from the base. Both the uncertain young Jedi and the older Alliance Commander looked out at the horizon.

“Tyzen, during the war against the Sith, I saw so many Jedi doing terrible things in the name of victory, or of the Order, or of the Republic, or in the name of the Force, itself. All while still claiming to be acting as Jedi.”

He stopped and exhaled, his arm dropping back to his side.

“I can’t do that. I had to break free of it, even knowing how badly that’s gone for so many other Jedi. I need to succeed where they failed, and trust that the people around me will help me stay the course.”

Corellan turned towards him again and regarded Tyzen somberly.

“Truly, I do not expect anyone to follow me down such a path. And I certainly have no intention of asking anyone. As a concept, the ‘Grey Jedi’ seem perfectly reasonable. Even admirable.”

He exhaled.

“As a collective group with a collective belief system? Every iteration has ended in disaster. That’s why so many incarnations of it fail, either due to internal or external pressures.”

“So with the Force as my witness, I assure you I have no intention of starting a schism. The Alliance is already too close to being a cult of personality without me making it any worse.”

Tyzen made a face at that observation uncertainly as Corellan just chuckled at his puzzlement.

“Anyway, you’re too young for these kinds of philosophical conversations.”

The Zabrak bristled.

“I’m almost the same age you were when you beat the Emperor’s Voice on Dromund Kaas.”

Corellan stopped himself and looked downward at the grass, letting out a slow exhale, plainly having realized the truth in Tyzen’s statement.

“Well. So that’s what growing old feels like.” The Alliance Commander smiled wryly to himself.

Tyzen felt his face flush, embarrassed to think he might have offended Corellan.

“I’m sorry. I meant – “

“I know what you meant.” He reached out again and patted Tyzen’s shoulder, calmly. “That’s just something everyone has to get used to, I think.”

He turned back to his young companion.

“So. After all that metaphysical discussion, what is it you’re really asking me?” Corellan pressed. “You can say ‘I am a Jedi’ or ‘I am not a Jedi’, and I won’t try to stop you either way.”

The Zabrak bit his lip.

“I guess I’m asking you… who am I?” Tyzen asked.

Corellan smiled at that.

“Who do you want to be?”

The young Zabrak paused. He knew the answer, he’d known the answer for years, but it was still hard to say. Swallowing, he forced the words out.

“I wanted to be you.” Tyzen finally murmured. “For the longest time, more than anything else in the galaxy. I wanted to be just like you.”

Corellan’s eyes widened, truly startled for the first time that Tyzen could remember.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize that you felt that way back then. If I had, I would have said…” he exhaled then spread his arms apart, as if lost. “Something.”

Tyzen bit his tongue and looked away, not trusting himself to speak. He felt himself start to breathe heavily.

Corellan placed a hand on his shoulder.

“For whatever its worth, I looked up to my heroes, too, Tyzen.” he offered. “Sagottoh Panaka. Nowan Ko Detizu. Orgus Din. Satele Shan.” He paused. “Revan.”

A comfortable silence settled in between them. In the distance, some native bird let out a caw, possibly to signal to its fellows that it had found some fresh kill to scavenge and feed upon.

“Each of my mentors, my heroes… well, they all disappointed me in different ways.” Corellan gazed down at the ground. “It wasn’t their fault, mind you. It’s just that the reality of who they were didn’t quite match my impressions of who they were.”

He shrugged.

“Impressions that might have been fantasies.”

“But I don’t blame them for any of that now. Not anymore, anyway. Our mentors, our heroes, are people, with merits and flaws the same as anyone else.”

“But what’s important was that in the end, I learned from each of them. And with time, I learned to become myself.”

“Now it’s easier in that regard. I’ve learned to respect and appreciate them in a new light. Not as my role-models, but as actual people.”

He stretched his neck. It was a strangely normal thing to do coming from a man who Tyzen regarded as anything but normal.

“Like them, I’m a person. A simple man trying to make his way in the universe. That is all.”

He turned back to Tyzen.

“Did you really think that I would think any less of you? For either going with the others who fled Tython, or finding sanctuary someplace else?”

“I… no.” Tyzen swallowed. He was ashamed. Ashamed for feeling weak. Ashamed for feeling uncertain. “I guess not.”

He looked Corellan Halcyon in the eyes.

“I guess… I was worried that I would think less of myself.”

Corellan nodded in understanding.

“That’s the first lesson. Now here’s the second: After everything you’ve been through, now that you have a chance to breath, have you been true to yourself, Tyzen?” Corellan asked the young Zabrak. “Have you been true to who you want to be?”

Tyzen opened his mouth to answer, then stopped himself. His old Jedi training started to kick in as he chewed over the Alliance Commander’s query, looking within himself for a sense of peace.

He thought about Denielle, and their painful parting.

He thought about every time he’d had to fight his way out of a dangerous situation in the last six years.

He thought about every night he’d spent on a cold street or cave, with a hunger in his belly.

Finally, he thought about the choice of coming to Odessen to join the Alliance.

“I think I have… in the end.” Tyzen finally answered. “It took me awhile, though.”

“Good.” Corellan smiled. “In the long run, you need to be the kind of person you’d respect, even while recognizing your mistakes. Recognizing the good and the bad.”

He looked down towards the base.

“They come from all over.” He mused. “Republic. Empire. Jedi. Sith. Voss. Independents of every stripe. Even Knights of Zakuul, believe it or not. So many differences! And yet… they keep coming.”

Corellan Halcyon smiled faintly. It was a simple gesture that, to Tyzen, radiated hope.

“With the Alliance, I hope to build a place where everyone who joins us can contribute while still being true to themselves.”

He turned his smile onto Tyzen, a look of hope in his pale blue eyes.

“I look forward to meeting the person you are becoming.”

With that, he turned and began his walk back down to the base.

Tyzen watched him depart in silence.

Tyzen could remember that time – in what felt like a lifetime ago – when he had all but worshipped Corellan Halcyon. When he had wanted nothing more than to be the Hero of Tython.

Now, a little older and a little wiser, he didn’t look at this man that way anymore.

But he respected him, perhaps now more than ever. He realized that here was a man who had made his choices and then accepted the consequences.

Tyzen no longer wanted Corellan’s life.

But he could still continue to learn from that life.

He had learned much from being in the shadow of the Hero of Tython.

As he started walking down the hill, he realized that it was now time for Tyzen Pyne to learn how to be himself.

END

Author’s Notes: Parts of this story probably fall under the ‘Unreliable Narrator’ trope. Tyzen isn’t dishonest, but he doesn’t necessarily see everything clearly. I’ll let you judge what parts those might be.

Tyzen, Corellan, Denielle, Karache, Sagottoh, Nowan Ko, Shiri’ah and Ulannium Kaarz are all original characters of mine. All other characters named in this story are actual NPCs from the game, some of whom are rather obscure. (As is my way.) Feel free to ask me about them or look them up yourself on Wookiepedia, if you like. Shiri’ah was previously introduced in my Adas Legacy, but she now gets a supporting role in my Halcyon Legacy.

There are a number of references in the game story to a Jedi purge of sorts carried out by the Eternal Empire during the five-year jump in Knights of the Fallen Empire. It’s a fascinating subject that hasn’t been fully explored.

Any similarities between Tyzen and a certain red-headed Jedi purge survivor from a recent video game franchise are… purely unintentional.

The Corellan Halcyon that appears here is one who saw Jaric Kaedan, Nomen Karr and Jun Seros make terrible, tone-deaf decisions during the Second Great Galactic War.

For the record, spoilers here, Ranos and the other Alliance Jedi decide that it is not their place to expel Leeha and Jomar from the Order. By the time the Alliance makes contact with the Jedi on Ossus, no one thinks it’s worth the trouble.

Liam Dentiri, a quest-giver on Tython and a boss in the Assault on Tython Flashpoint, was killed in my canon by Xadya, my bounty hunter in the Halcyon Legacy. Since Xadya would also go on to join the Eternal Alliance, Tyzen may find himself challenged in ways he couldn’t have imagined.

I’d like to incorporate Tyzen into some future stories, though maybe not as a featured character.

I watched a lot of history documentaries during the pandemic and a few of them involved religious schisms throughout history. I found them both fascinating and somewhat depressing. (Spoilers: When it comes to religion, there are no “good guys”. Just times when one group might be worse than another.) But it got me thinking about the “Grey Jedi” in Star Wars, who are incredibly popular in the fandom, but always seem to come up short.

I still like the character of Bela Kiwiiks from the Jedi Knight story. I don’t know how many of you ever read the Star Wars: Dark Times comic series from Dark Horse, but her situation in my story is rather similar to Master K'Kruhk’s in that tale. It is well established that the Jedi don’t put all their eggs “in one basket” when it comes to their Padawans and younglings, as they have many enclaves all over the galaxy. Kiwiiks was returning a group of younglings from such an enclave to Tython when she was cutoff by the Eternal Fleet. Deciding that the younglings needed her more than the Ossus Jedi would, she took her charges into hiding, much as K’kruhk does during the time of the Galactic Empire.

Karache’s line to Tyzen is a reference Han’s line on Yavin to Luke in Episode IV. Naturally, Corellan later delivers a line to Tyzen that was directly pulled from Jango Fett in Episode II. I love my little Easter Eggs.

Corellan’s outfit during the events of this chapter is known as the “Ruthless Scion Armor Set” from the Cartel Market. He would later change it again, but this is what he wore for most of Knights of the Fallen Empire and Knights of the Eternal Throne expansions.

I was originally going to mention Ashara Zavros in this piece, but the tangent that summoned got out of hand.

Although I wasn’t reading the Expanded Universe novels at the time, Luke’s speech to the Jedi Order in Dark Nest III: The Swarm War always resonated with me. It’s important for one’s followers to know where their leader stands, and Corellan is attempting to do the same here. (Though obviously, Corellan takes a very different approach.)

Thank you for reading, and may the Force be with you.

Tagging!

@distressed-gizka @rikki-roses @eorzeashan @grandninjamasterren @space-unicorn-dot @mysterious-cuchulainn-x @iacyper9 @sullustangin @stars-ephemeral @taina-eny @brainmonkeyscartwheeling-blog @nebulis-ceartais @raven-of-domain-kwaadthe-raven-of-highever @nekorinnie @fandomfangirl23 @abbee-normal

#swtor fanfiction #swtorpadawan writes #code breakers #oc: tyzen pyne #oc: corellan halcyon #in the shadow of the hero #my writing #swtor #swtor fanfic #odessen #the eternal alliance #oc: denielle #the halcyon legacy #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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inyri · 8 months ago

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Equivalent Exchange (a SWTOR story): Chapter 41: Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M. Trigger warning: graphic violence, depictions of torture, body horror.) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire/Knights of the Eternal Throne.)

Comments are always appreciated! Visit me at:

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Author’s Note: Please note the trigger warnings. I had to step away from this for a little while (all right, more than a little while). Chapters are consecutive, of course, and as I posted the last one and moved to wrapping up this one I found life imitating art in a very, very uncomfortable way. I don’t talk a lot about my work for many reasons. Normally it’s not very exciting. And then there are the days that stay, the reminders that sometimes the world is deeply, viciously cruel in ways that are hard to process. As part of my work I met two men who were subjected to that cruelty, heard their stories, and helped care for them on their paths back home.

The first iterations of this series of scenes were very different from where we ended up. Nine and her team were far nastier at first, which wasn’t really true to her, and then I tried to make it funny which- well, obviously we can see the problem with that approach. So this is where we ended. It’s still an ugly chapter, but here we are.

This chapter is dedicated to AD, AH, and all victims of torture.

Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Theron follows her close as a shadow as they make their way from her ship across the base, dodging carefully around the first watch guards on their patrol routes. A month ago it would have been simple but a month ago they’d been sloppy; since then she’d ordered new watchposts set, new floodlights installed, locked down the turbolift platform to the valley below. There were so many other places to land a ship on Odessen, canyons and clearings and deep, dark forest far beyond the view of the towers, and it would have been far too easy for an infiltrator to sneak in.

Or one might simply use your landing bay. Valkorion’s armor gleams as an arc of light cuts across the path. In through the front door. All comers welcomed. Perhaps Arcann should-

The illusion shatters when she steps through it, the sentence left ominously unfinished.

Second patrol. Third patrol. Through the external door on the heels of a pair of Sana-Rae’s adepts, weaving through the hall and crammed into the back corners of the lift with an absolutely massive Zabrak with a distinct half-ring of glitterstim around one nostril (she makes a mental note- the cantina’s more than necessary but if they’ve got a spice problem that’s another vulnerability they can’t afford), down the hallways into Science Wing and nearly to the lab- outside door’s open, good, but how’s she going to-

Shit.

She’s six steps ahead of herself in contingency plans as usual, mind racing, but that doesn’t matter worth a damn when she fucks up Step One. Stopping so abruptly he almost runs right into her, she grabs Theron by the wrist and pulls him into the darkest corner of an empty meeting room. His head tilts in silent confusion as she reaches toward the stealth generator clipped to his belt. I thought- he starts to sign, one hand raised.

Switching, she replies, left-handed; pulling it free, she replaces it with hers. Backup has a shorter clock when the main’s off. If it overloads-

Theron nods. Bad. Right. Where should I stand?

Back- her fingers stutter as she considers (Void, she really isn’t thinking, is she? She needs to be. One mistake and the whole thing comes apart)- back left corner. You’ll have a five-count to get through the door before it closes, then don’t move and-

Don’t say anything. I know. He repeats the sign, an added emphasis. I promised.

She rubs her forehead, trying and failing to settle the ache building between her eyes. I know. Come on.

***

The inner laboratory door slides closed with a soft hiss, just muffling Theron’s last few footsteps as he settles carefully into the corner, and she lets her stealth field drop.

“I got your message.” Nine forces the words out, forces strength into her voice as she sets the lock. She cannot falter, not now. “SCORPIO, give me the holo. Let’s get it opened up.”

“Commander.” Doctor Lokin looks up from across the room, setting a handful of instruments and an empty syringe- not all clean, she notes- neatly into place on a polished metal tray. Beside him, her would-be killer slumps forward against the treatment chair’s restraints, an intravenous catheter in his right arm and his lower body wrapped in a surgical dropcloth, head covered by black fabric and bound around the middle with thick strips of spacer’s tape. “We were just beginning.”

[ sleepy already, cipher? but we’re only just beginning.

when hunter’s slap hits she startles bolt upright in the chair and then wishes she hadn’t, her ribs shifting beneath the straps like so many shattered potsherds as she grinds her teeth to keep from screaming. she’s screamed so much already and she won’t give him the satisfaction of another, won’t-

hunter gestures- toward the woman, she thinks, it’s getting hard to see now with her face so bruised. let’s wake her up, hm? ah, no- something cold and metallic tightening on her right index finger- the other hand, to start. now the left side, still the index finger, tighter and tighter and oh void it hurts it hurts it hurts she’s got to say something or it-

i’m telling you, she gasps, when those reinforcements get here from- and there’s a sharp snap and she can’t help it and she screams-

keep singing, little bird. I do so hate to have to break your pretty wings.]

Her hand throbs.

“I didn’t tell you to start without me.” Her stomach churns even as she curls her fingers into an easy fist, testing their movement; she couldn’t do that for a month after Corellia so it’s only the memory of pain, isn’t it? “And how long has that tape been on? We need his eyes open, not swollen shut. It’s too fucking tight.”

“If you’re referring to this-” Lokin lifts a pair of bloody-gripped forceps with one finger and a long-suffering look- “your knife tipped his saphenous, and I assumed you would prefer he not hemorrhage before you had the chance to work. I’ve only just run the amytal in, nothing more. But,” he squints at the rings of tape, flips a vibroscalpel from the tray into his palm and before she can even begin to move he slices through the binding neatly, once and then again, “you aren’t wrong. SCORPIO restrained him while I was busy with his leg, but I ought to have-”

SCORPIO turns from the console, shoulders lifting in what might have been a shrug. “My primary directive on Odessen remains operational security, Commander. He cannot share what he cannot see.”

“Yes, but-”

One of the wall-mounted monitors beeps, shrill and insistent, until Lokin prods it with a gloved finger and it lapses into red-flashing silence. “He’s starting to wake. Shall we?”

Void, she hates interrogations. (She used to be good at them once, when she was younger and followed orders better. She used to be good at them because of course, why waste precious time on subtleties when you can simply pry and bend and break and it all comes out in the end either way- maybe in pieces, yes, but that was just another puzzle to solve if one was clever enough, even if it was messier-

Orders were orders.

She used to be good at them once. Before Corellia.)

“Is Lana coming? She’s covering for me with Sana-Rae, I think, but-”

She turns too quickly as the door opens behind her and as she spins the room tips sideways and then it starts to spin, too; pausing midstep, she grabs at the nearer benchtop to steady herself, her left hand raised as a counterbalance. Lana clears the doorway in two steps, the worry lines across her forehead deepening.

“I’ve got you,” Lana murmurs. “We’ve just finished, and I had a feeling you might-” she only wrinkles her nose a little as she glances toward the instrument table- “want my help with this.”

When she nods the world shifts unpleasantly anticlockwise. “Yes. Dialing out blind on his holo’s a losing proposition. With any luck he’ll talk, but I’m not counting on it and we haven’t got the time to wear him down.” Pressing her lips together against a wave of nausea, she inhales. Exhales. Inhales. The spinning slows.

“Physical methods, then?”

She shakes her head- oh, Force, there it goes again- inhale. Exhale. “Just tell me what you see. I’ve been bled on enough today, and if we push too hard-”

“Does it matter? You can’t possibly intend to let him-” at her gesture Lana lowers her voice, just above a whisper- “walk away from this. An attack, here, on you- there have to be consequences.”

“Do I look like a Jedi to you? You know me better than that.” When she says it Lana snorts and rolls her eyes and to be fair she has a point- of course she has a point- but a misstep now could be the last strand of a rope to hang herself by, the final block knocked loose that brings the whole tower crashing down, and she can afford that far less than to give away a shred of undeserved mercy. “You’re a step ahead of me, that’s all. I need the who before I decide the what.”

Lana sighs. “I know. I only- I defer to you, Commander. It’s your decision.”

“Maybe, or maybe it’s Trant’s. But we won’t know until we know, and-” another warning chime from the monitors; another warning look from Lokin. “We’re running out of time. And when we’ve finished I’ve still got to talk to Koth and Senya, and-”

“Already postponed, and that can wait in any case. There’s nothing to discuss that won’t keep for a day. We’ll call them once we’re in transit,” Lana eyes her up and down, “after another round of kolto.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Lana’s hand comes to rest beneath her lifted arm; with the world still half-spinning she’d have missed the subtle pulse of energy if Lana hadn’t flinched when their fingertips meet. “Force help me, you’re not - I’ll take it over, Nine. I’ll… I can do it. You should rest.”

“No.” When she shakes her head the room stays level now, at least. It’s something. “No. This is my mess to sort out. Just lock the door.”

***

Five minutes later all she’s got out of him is a slurred sequence of names, ranks, and serial numbers (lying, Lana says each time from her perch behind the chair, though she knew that long before she said it) and the unwavering gut-punch certainty that the man is an SIS agent. With so little actual information to go on and their databases two years out of date- when Theron left he’d downloaded what he could but slicing back into the mainframe to sync them’s a risk none of them are willing to take right now- trying to find a name for her attacker’s useless, with dozens of dossiers a partial match to the same physical parameters: average height, average build, Underlevels accent, Republic emblems tattooed on biceps and back and another handful laser-faded to barely visible outlines. With half the Republic’s infantry dredged up from the Coruscant undercity’s gangs and prisons and half the SIS (and nearly all of SpecOps) poached from the army, she could have shot into the Dealer’s Den or the Red Rancor on a Primesday night and hit five clones of him in a straight line between the door and the bar.

She studies his face from every angle, waiting for a memory to trigger, and- no, still nothing, barely a nod in the corridor or a passing glance in the mess line. Three weeks on Odessen and the man’s practically a ghost, a traceless alias for a name and a ride hitched on a transport from Port Nowhere. Granted, both she and Theron had been off-planet most of that time, but stars, if this one got in so easily how many more could?

That’s a problem for another day. It has to be.

But for now SCORPIO runs the serials, just for the sake of thoroughness, and- ah. Those faces she knows: Corellia, six years ago; a Coruscanti gala, bloodstains on a black dress; Dromund Kaas, only a month or two before Zakuul.

She just hadn’t known their real names, then. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had.

Orders were orders.

“So you’re ten dead men in a trenchcoat, then? And you’re wrong about that last one, by the way. That was probably Cipher Four. I’ve never been to Ord Mantell.” She pushes his commpad away with a scowl. The damned thing’s wiped clean- all the more likely he’d spoken to Trant within the last half-day, then; that was a lesson from Alderaan that only the Director ought to have learned. With enough time they could have recovered it, but they don’t have time. So she turns back to him instead, her thumb and index finger poised on closed eyelids gone puffy from the pressure of the binding. “Last chance to make this easier on yourself. When did you last hear from Marcus Trant?”

“More’n ten. Way more.” His words are less slurred now, the serum finally taking effect, and Lana sits up straighter. “‘nd hells take your easier. You’re gonna kill me anyway, so-”

Void, why are they always so insistent on dying?

She doubts he can see her, so she just adds a twinge of melodrama to her sigh. “Not necessarily, agent. You tried to murder me. Naturally, I objected-” a little more pressure on his eye, just enough that he starts to shift against the restraining strap- “but if I really wanted you dead I’d have let you use your kill pill instead of wasting perfectly good antitoxin on you. I can be civil if you can.”

Lana closes her eyes, focused and still.

“To be clear, you’re alive as a means to an end and it’s in your best interest to cooperate. But you and I know how it goes, don’t we?” When she lifts her open hand SCORPIO presses the holotransmitter into her palm. “Good soldiers follow orders. It’s not personal. You were only doing as you’re told.” She leans in closer, knee jostling against his mended leg just a little harder than necessary as the paper drape crinkles, voice lowered in a simulacrum of confidence. “Stars, I remember those days. He sits in his big office and sics you on a target, unclips your leash and you just- well. Ours not to reason why, hm?”

The cuff around his right wrist clinks against the arm of the chair as he makes an obscene gesture.

Wrong tactic. Well, then.

Her sigh’s loud enough to make him flinch. “And it was all wrong, wasn’t it? All that planning, all that time pacing, writing a five-line message that he never even saw, all for nothing?” His breath stills, his heart rate spikes, and Lokin hooks another syringe to the IV port and slowly pushes the plunger down. “DId you think I wouldn’t see? I’d almost feel sorry for you if it wasn’t so utterly pathetic.”

His head lolls forward against the restraint, a counterpressure against her hand.

“Oh, no, no.” Shifting, she pushes him back upright with two fingertips in the center of his forehead. “Not yet. Not until-”

“I almost got you.” His mouth contorts- it might have passed for a grin in a darker room, teeth bared, feral- and something in his voice makes her hair stand on end. She recoils, pulling her hand away from his face even as he pauses. “So fucking close. Just a few more seconds and I’d’ve bled you dry, Cipher, and then I’d-”

(The words barely register; he’s not the first and certainly not the most creative person to threaten her with postmortem indecencies but somehow they always think it’s going to shock her into silence, as though it’s the single most awful thing that could ever happen when she’s lived through far worse horrors and more to the point she wouldn’t even know, she’d be dead).

“-see enough and you know Shan’d come running- Force, that would’ve been even better, the look on his traitor face even if it was the wrong way round-”

wait.

WAIT.

no, Trant wouldn’t have-

When she blinks she sees it all in the span of a millisecond: half a hundred ways it could have gone, half a hundred indignities inflicted, half a hundred times it breaks Theron for just long enough for the blow to fall. Lana must see something else; she makes the smallest little sound, a muffled gasp of disgust covered over by knuckles cracking in clenched-fisted fury and then a snarled Sith curse she doesn’t understand (but Valkorion clearly does- she isn’t wrong, he murmurs) and it brings her back to herself.

Her comm buzzes; her eyes flick down toward the screen.

Kicking him for breaking comm silence would be counterproductive, she supposes, but what does Belsavis have to do with anything? If Theron knows his name he ought to have just said so, not making her work harder than she already is.

< don’t know him but think I know the unit> <told Marcus it was a bad idea> <don’t think he listened>

That would explain the burned-off tattoos. Stars, has the SIS truly become that desperate? Or was this another Garza project- some experiment likely as not to fail just as Eclipse Squad had, so why waste frontline troops when the Republic had a whole planet full of froth-mouthed maniacs more than happy to keep killing as the cost of their freedom and if things did go bad, well, they were going to die one way or another so what did it matter?

Then SCORPIO blinks once, head turning toward her comm and then, slower, toward the corner and oh, damn it all-

“Didn’t think the SIS went in for necrophilia,” she says conversationally, covering her mouth over a particularly exaggerated yawn as Lokin barely stifles a snort. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Jedi. I am curious, though- did you pick that up on Belsavis, or was that why they locked you up in the first place?”

His teeth clench.

“Piracy? Hm, no. Some flavor of war crime, I’m sure- oh, I know. Fragged your CO, I’d bet. You’ve got that sort of look.”

“Onomatophobia. Go fuck yourself.”

(She’d come at it all wrong, hadn’t she?

She’d thought this wasn’t personal because for her it wasn’t. Okay, fine, with Trant maybe it is, now, but this is no old enemy. She only hurt him to start with because he cut her first and deeper and even Theron doesn’t know his name- and stars know his memory’s brilliant, to judge by his stories he remembers everyone he ever worked with and it was far harder for him when they weren’t all just Minder Ten and Fixer Twelve and Watcher Three. The garotte alone might have been sheer bloody-mindedness in a way she wouldn’t have expected from the SIS, but even the Republic for all its supercilious moralizing had its fair share of sadists; Hunter hadn’t truly been one of them but they’d certainly all thought so at the time and still they’d all turned their heads, every single time, even when she’d screamed until her voice gave out.

Of course her control word was in her Republic file. He wasn’t the only one to try to use it, the first ones in earnest and then, when she’d shredded enough of them into bloody little pieces that they realized it didn’t didn’t hold her any more, as a vicious sort of mockery. That worked a bit, she supposes; maybe it always will. Not well enough to save them, of course.

She’d thought it wasn’t personal, that orders were orders and he’d come after Theron because he had to. But stars, she’d been out of the game for five fucking years and he’s practically got her dossier memorized, errors and all, and he’d called Theron a traitor and the first time she really pushes his buttons he-

Oh, this was very personal.)

“No,” she says, and breathes, trying to untie the panic-knot tightening in her chest, “I don’t think I will.” Snatching up a scalpel from the instrument tray as her voice wavers, she presses its tip, just so, beneath his chin. “You thought you were close? Close only counts in horseshoes and heavy ordnance, puppy, and that and a slip of my hand’ll buy you an unmarked grave. And-” he’s trying not to move, trying not to flinch. A single bead of blood wells up beneath the blade and stars, it’d be so easy, just one little movement and stay calm stay calm stay calm- “you still haven’t answered my question. When did you last hear from Marcus Trant?”

Lana exhales as her gaze comes back into focus, lip curling. Whatever she saw, she didn’t like it. “Today. It was today. But beyond that-”

“It’s good enough.” It was never going to be that easy. “SCORPIO, you don’t still have Belsavis census access, do you?”

A yellow flash, and then- “I am no longer tethered to Ward 23, and what I retained is long out of date. Proximity would be required.”

“Never mind. We’ll move on to the holo, then. Doctor?”

“Ready.” Lokin nods approvingly as she sets the scalpel down. “Retractor?”

“Retractor, please. Left eye.”

One click. Two clicks. Three.

The ‘pub squirms, fighting the restraining strap in earnest as he tries to blink against the cold metal instrument. “What are you-” his pupil constricts until she shifts the operating light away- “you gonna take my eyes now, Cipher? Keep ‘em in a jar somewhere, or-”

The holo’s scanner locks on as she holds it level with his forced-open eye. “No, thank you. I never was much for souvenirs.”

It chimes cheerfully as it comes to life in her hand; she flips idly through the settings. The user ID’s a string of alphanumeric gibberish, the message system’s not set up and the whole thing’s still on factory default but she’d expected all of that. It’s almost certainly a burner. The call log’s intact, though, with four time-stamped entries. One: incoming but barely five seconds long, likely a functionality test. Not useful. Two: outgoing, eighteen days old. Confirmation of arrival? That’s a Coruscanti subnet, but that could be a handler. Three: outgoing, one day old, to the same address as the second- they’d landed back from Nar Shaddaa by then.

Four: incoming. Coruscant again, but a different address. One minute and six seconds duration.

Two and a half hours ago.

He said he’d call it off, Void damn him. If Trant kept his word and she’s wrong, if she burns the last thin strands of the bridge between Theron and everything he ever believed in to ashes and she’s wrong-

(He did say he would call them. Reflected in the freezer’s glass door, Valkorion tilts his head contemplatively. And tell them what?

He said-

he said-

[-but those last few breaths last longer if you don’t struggle, don’t they? You’ll figure that out soon enough.]

For the first time she can remember there is something like approval in his smile. So you did hear it, he says. But oh, little Cipher, you didn’t listen.)

She gestures to Lana and Lokin, pointing with two fingers at each one in turn and then the door with a snap of her wrist that sets it throbbing. “All of you but SCORPIO, clear the room. Now.”

Lana blinks but it’s Lokin who speaks first. “Commander, if I may? If you plan to proceed further, the subject may require additional stabilizing mea-”

“Wait outside until I call for you. That’s an order.”

He’s halfway to the door before Lana starts to move from the benchtop and even then she pauses beside her as she passes, one hand on her shoulder and her mouth lowered level with her ear. “You’re not getting Valkorion involved? I know you’d rather not dial out blind, but I thought I felt-”

“I’m not,” she murmurs in reply. “On either count. But if this goes bad I don’t want you in the room when it does.”

“All right.” The sheer force of disapproval contained in Lana’s sigh might have leveled buildings; it isn’t all right and they both know it but it’s far too late to argue over it now. “Should I go and find Theron, then? I can think of some excuse to keep him with me until you’ve finished.”

They both startle at the sound of SCORPIO’s voice. “Unnecessary. He is-” her heart stops as the droid’s eyes flicker- “secure.”

“We can’t be certain of that. He still doesn’t know, does he? If there’s a second-”

“I see many things that you do not, Lord Beniko.” Five metallic fingers uncurl ceilingward (not toward the corner; her heart stutters, then resumes). “I am perfectly certain.”

Lips pressed together, nostrils flared, Lana grits her teeth against a retort before she simply continues toward the exit. “Then I will wait,” she says, a sparking halo of electricity coiling around her words as the door slides shut behind her, “until I am needed.”

And then the room is quiet save the beeping monitors, the ‘pub’s ragged breathing and the sharp rattle of his restraints, and Nine glances sidelong at SCORPIO as she settles herself carefully in the blind spot on his right. “Be nice.”

“Error. Program file: nice not found.”

She must have iterated again; the sarcasm’s new. Rolling her eyes, she glances down at her comm again.

< Also, you are welcome.>

She flicks an ironic salute toward the droid and that too makes her wrist ache. More time in the tank, then, on the way to Voss. More time lost that she can’t afford and a favor owed that she probably can’t afford either- stars know SCORPIO’s kept secrets for her well enough through the years but she’s no particular fondness for Theron; the last time he’d cracked a joke about needing a processor update she’d signal-locked his implant to play That Slippery Little Hutt Of Mine on repeat for forty-three minutes straight until half his face was twitching and he’d finally apologized- but hopefully that can be negotiated. Ongoing access to the network, maybe. Lana will fuss and she’ll be right, but if that message had gone through unintercepted they all know what it might have meant. It’s a small enough price.

“If you’re done arguing-” the ‘pub’s slurring again. He’s burning through the serum faster than she’s ever seen- “either get this thing off me or-”

If he keeps that up she may as well not bother with the call. She ought to have known better than to think that he’d say much of anything useful but his ranting’s absolutely tedious; they’re going to need to gag him after all, aren’t they? It wasn’t supposed to be that sort of interrogation, but she also hadn’t particularly expected him to- oh, if he calls her that one more time she might just stab him after all. (Like he’s got any room to criticize- all her old sins could overfill an archive but at least she’s not a stars-damned corpsefucker.) “Shh.” When she tilts her head toward it SCORPIO picks up the spacer’s tape and tears a strip from the roll, pressing it firmly over his mouth until th+e noise quiets into muffled incomprehensibility. “That’s quite enough out of you, I think.“

Hm. That brings to mind a better idea, actually.

“Do we have enough input for a voiceprint? Something like this?” Tapping a brief message into her commpad, she sends it through to SCORPIO. Only a few lines, but if it truly is Trant on the other end of the connection it should be enough to be certain.

It has to be enough.

She doesn’t look toward the corner. She mustn’t look toward the corner.

“Way more than enough.” It’s near enough a perfect mimic. SCORPIO folds her arms smugly and the ‘pub goes grey. “Prepared for playback.”

“On my signal, then, but give me a twenty second delay on video.” Her fingers twitch despite themselves, tingling at the tips; she forces her breathing into rhythm. (Lana was right. She isn’t fine.

Lana was always right. But she doesn’t have a choice.)

Inhale. “And prep the package files for transmission on verbal command. No passcode.” Exhale.

A pause, a flash of scarlet. Inhale. “Yes, Commander.”

Exhale.

Inhale. She smooths her hair back, adjusts her collar carefully under her chin, slaps both cheeks briskly with closed fingers to bring a little color into them and even that little jolt rattles her brain inside her skull. She considers, briefly, the backs of her eyelids. That seems to help. Exhale.

The far corner remains quiet.

She lifts the holo in line with the ‘pub’s eye once more as his pupil shimmers finely from side to side; they’d definitely pushed the dose too high but even so it’s far faster than it ought to be, chasing some other vice out of his system, and the camera struggles, beeping and chirping error after error until finally it locks on.

Inhale. Exhale.

She meets SCORPIO’s gaze, scrolls back to the end of the call log, and presses redial.

Inhale.

“Connecting.” The tinny synthetic voice of the SIS operator sets her nerves on edge. “Connecting.” Come on, pick up-

The channel opens with a click and she nods, lets her breath out into the following silence before the voiceprint begins.

“It’s done. Shan and the Cipher. Wrong way ‘round, but-”

“Well-” the video delay goes both ways but she doesn’t need it, she’s heard Marcus Trant’s voice in so many briefings it’s burned into her brain; the last brittle shard of hope she’d clung to shatters and leaves her with nothing left but rage. How dare he- “it’s about fucking time.”

Oh, she is going to end him.

***

Nine’s body language shifts then, her spine rigid where she’d been starting to hunch forward in fatigue, her hands fisted, fingernails digging hard into her palms. Her stance settles, just a little wider, forward on her toes; her chin lifts. He can’t see her face, still angled toward the prisoner.

“Send the photo confirmation, then execute extraction- and get your video on. Where are you?” Force, he’s going to throw up. Even when Jonas told him, even after hearing Marcus with his own ears he hadn’t wanted to believe it. He’d called it off. It had to be a mistake- or maybe Nine’s paranoia got the better of her (and he knows why and he doesn’t fault her, she can’t help Valkorion in her head and the poison he’s feeding her day after day after day) and this was just another shadow to peer into. Dragged into the light, it would have been nothing at all. A mistake. A mistake.

She nods to the droid once again. “ Just a few more seconds. Bad connection but I’ve almost got it.”

He shudders. The copywork’s uncanny and he knows for sure that’s not all readback. If SCORPIO gets it in her head to playact as one of them, starts giving orders in Lana’s voice or Koth’s or his own? He’s no reason to think she would, but whatever loyalty she seems to owe starts and ends with Nine. They’ve got to talk about it, at least.

Nine angles away from their prisoner, raises the comm chest-high as the little hologram springs up in the hollow of her hand. He can see her better now, her face blank and beautiful and perfectly, utterly cold, and then she smiles and-

(He has spent far more time than he’d ever admit to, from Rishi to Ziost to Zakuul to tonight, every hit and hurt and shattered bone and her bloody armor left in a pile again and again on the medbay floor, being scared for Nine.

This might be the first time he’s honestly been scared of her.)

“Hello, Director,” she says. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

It’s only a little flinch, but it’s there. “Cipher. Still alive, I see.”

“Commander. You lied to me, Marcus. You know what happens now.”

“I think you’ll find that I didn’t.”

Every syllable of her laughter’s a rifle shot, clear and piercing. “Yes, yes. You said you’d call, and you did.” By his posture he’s caught and he knows it, back straight, shoulders set. “But you know perfectly well that wasn’t our agreement. To go by the way Theron spoke of you I’d have thought you an honorable man, but-”

Marcus lifts one hand, a futile placation as Nine’s mocking smile fades back into hard-eyed silence. “I really am sorry about Theron, for what little it’s worth. He-”

“You’re sorry?” That wasn’t a laugh, not quite, halfway caught in her broken throat. “You’re certainly about to be, but Theron’s fine. This puppy was just as stupid as the last one- worse, actually, since he got himself caught in the bargain.” She turns her body, lets the camera capture the prisoner behind her straining against the chair straps in wide-eyed muffled fury. “He never got anywhere close to Theron.”

“He knows, then?” (He still can’t see Marcus’ face. He isn’t sure whether he wants to.)

She shrugs, noncommittal. “One thing at a time.” Her free hand gestures vaguely toward the instrument tray. “I’ve been a bit busy, I’m afraid, and now I’ve got all these dossiers to send off-”

“I’d suggest some time in kolto first. You don’t look at all well, Cipher.”

“Commander.” When she blinks her eyes stay closed half a second too long and she sways back and forth and stars, she needs to sit down before she falls over but she’s too stubborn to let anyone see her hurting. He knows her tells now, though- her jaw clenches, her left hand curls and uncurls. “Five years in carbonite couldn’t kill me. You honestly thought a garotte would be enough?”

“No,” Marcus says softly. “Not really. But we make do with what we have, don’t we?”

“I suppose we do. SCORPIO, transmit file Eclipse . Full recipient list.”

One red flash, two green. “Transmission complete.”

(She really did it. Oh, fuck, she really, actually did it.

He should never have gone home. He should never have gone-

It isn’t home. Not any more.)

Marcus sighs. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” Nine looks up abruptly as one of the monitors sounds yet again; she reaches up and simply shuts it off completely and at this angle he can finally see properly, both of their faces in profile. “Every reputable news service in the Core Worlds and about half of the disreputable ones, so you may want to warn your receptionist. I suspect your switchboard’s about to melt.”

“She’ll handle it, and Eclipse Squad was Elin’s mess. I’m afraid I can’t comment. Now, if we’re finished-”

“We are not. Transmit file Legate. Full list. Call it off. Now.”

One red flash, two green, and Marcus winces, his composure finally breaking. “Are you out of your fucking mind? No one came out of that clean, you least of all.”

“I might be.” A knock at the door- no, it’s there, not here, and a comm chiming. “But Legate died in a warehouse collapse on Quesh, poor thing, though with all those warheads going up at once confirming it was quite impossible. Pity.”

A single vein pulses across his forehead.

“Call it off.”

Another knock. “Do you think Theron will believe that?”

“He doesn’t need to. He knows about the Castellan restraints- he’s known for years.” She glances, for the smallest fraction of a second, toward his corner. “I think he’ll understand if I blur the truth a little.”

(He nods before he remembers she can’t see him. Of course he understands. He wishes she hadn’t done it, wishes she hadn’t needed to do any of this, but of course he understands.)

The room goes quiet, the stillness broken only by restraint buckles clinking against the chair frame.

“Do you think he’ll believe this?”

The angle of her head’s a wordless question.

“What wouldn’t you do to bring down an enemy? The head of the SIS, no less.” The framing of the projection changes, the bottom edge of a screen coming into view as he stands up slowly from his desk. Marcus’d always lived at the office, one of so many bad habits he’d passed down to him over all the years they’d worked together (the work always comes first, he’d said. It always will. It will take everything you can give to it and then it will take more and you’ll swear and shout and threaten to quit. And then you won’t, because this is what we were made for. And that is how we win). “It’s everything you ever worked toward. So: a foiled assassination attempt in your own base- how terrible.” He clicks his tongue, a mocking little tsk. “You’d have to retaliate, and who would fault you?”

Nine’s eyes narrow.

“But if it came out that you set it all up- a few intercepted messages, perhaps, shared by an old friend-”

Her lips draw back from her bared teeth. “Stay away from him.”

“I’m finished,” Marcus says. “I know that. But that doesn’t mean you get to win. Once a iiar, always a liar, Cipher Nine. Who do you think he’ll believe- you? Or me?”

No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t . Not that it would have made a difference, but Marcus couldn’t have known that- Force, he really is going to throw up.

(When Theron joined the SIS he was seventeen years old and every adult he’d known for more than a galactic standard month had abandoned him, sold him out or simply sold him at the first sign he’d outgrown his usefulness. It took nearly a year on Coruscant, nearly a year of steady paychecks and a bed to sleep in every night, before he owned more clothes than he could fit into a go bag; it took almost two before he stopped apologizing for asking for equipment. But Marcus never gave up on him, even when he fucked up (which back then was more often than not), even when he bristled and snapped like a half-wild animal, even when he wanted to give up on himself. If Master Zho had been the nearest thing he’d known to a father- stars knows it wasn’t Jace, especially not now- Marcus had come close too, once.

Once.)

She takes a deep breath. She’s fading fast, now, hands tremulous even as she’s fighting to keep the holo steady. He can’t just sit here and watch this, he can’t, he can’t-

“Her,” Theron says, letting the stealth field drop as he takes a step forward and she spins, startled, at the sound of his voice. It comes out as a gasp; he doesn’t even know how long he’s been holding his breath. ”Who do I believe? Her. Always.”

Marcus buckles like he’s been gut-shot, bracing himself against his desk. “You- you said you hadn’t told him yet. You said-”

“I think you’ll find that I didn’t.” Nine smiles, absolutely feral and absolutely beautiful, and he steadies her with one hand at the small of her back. “Though as you can see, I really have been busy.”

The last time he saw that look on his face was the day the blockade went up around Coruscant. “Hello, Theron.”

“Hello, Marcus.”

He sits back into his chair, heavy, elbows resting on the desktop. “This office would have been yours, you know. You were ready for it. But you’re on the wrong side of the war.”

“Which war?” Nine says it at the same time he does and then she dips her head, ever so slightly- you first. “We’re here fighting Zakuul. We’re here fighting Arcann,” he continues, “and we’re finally winning. I know you know that. I know Jace knows that, and I know you’re both still fighting the same fucking war against the Empire that you’ve been fighting since before I was born because for you that’s the only thing that matters. But I’m not.”

“You dare-”

“I made my choice,” he says softly. “Now you make yours. Are you going to drag the whole SIS down with you?”

Marcus rests his head in his hands. For a moment it’s the day after the Ascendant Spear, the day after Ziost, the day after Tython, the weight of a thousand impossible choices and ten thousand lies pressing down on him, and then he looks up and shakes his head. “No.” He sighs. “No, I’m not. What happens now?”

“Resign,” Nine murmurs. “Retire. Disappear before the Senate comes for you, or let them scapegoat you: I don’t care what you do, but you will call this off. You will do it now, and if I ever have reason to doubt you- if anyone from the Republic so much as breathes harm in Theron’s direction- the Ralltiir file goes public.”

Someone’s pounding on his office door, a woman’s voice shouting something incomprehensible as he reaches out of frame, and then a few moments later a series of four tones in a cadence burned into his own memory- send message; subnet selected; confirm?-

Message sent.

The holotransmitter in Nine’s hand chimes.

“Done. Now, if there’s nothing else?”

Nine turns once more (and he turns with her, careful) to put their prisoner back into frame. “What do you want me to do with him? I’d put him back on Belsavis if I was you, but-”

Marcus stands up abruptly, even as he makes a face as she says Belsavis, at the unmistakable sound of a single round of blaster fire and the hiss of a door sliding open. “Elin,” he snaps, “not now -”

“Yes, now.” General Garza’s got a blaster pistol in one hand and a commpad in the other when she crosses into camera view. “I just got a fucking call from the fucking- oh.” She cranes her neck toward the projector. “Well, we can fix that problem, at least-”

The call disconnects abruptly.

Nine sags against him, exhausted. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I know I promised-”

“Commander.” He’d nearly forgotten SCORPIO was still at the console until she speaks, and he’s never heard that tone from her before; he looks sharply up at her and follows her sightline. The prisoner’s sitting bolt-straight, back rigid, eyes wide, and a high-pitched whine like a drill through durasteel shrills warning from somewhere that isn’t his mouth- “Commander, get down!”

All Theron can do is drop where they’re standing, his body a shield over Nine’s, before there’s an awful wet noise and the smell of blood and something else familiar in his nose, hot and metallic and not his and not hers and even though he knows he shouldn’t he looks up again and oh, fuck-

The lab door slides open and Doctor Lokin comes running into the room, Lana just behind with her lightsaber blazing, and they both stop short at the sight of it, at the ‘pub still strapped into the chair with half his head just gone and at him and Nine on the blood-spattered floor.

“What- who-” Lana covers her mouth with her free hand. “What in the Void happened?”

Nine’s shaking so hard she can barely move; he curls her close against him to keep her upright. “Not me,” she whispers. “Not me.”

#inyri writes #equivalent exchange #swtor #swtor fanfiction #imperial agent/theron shan #nine/theron #cipher nine #thank you all for your patience #as i wrote this one fought me for a very long time #so i hope it was worth the wait #and the next chapter is kinder to them i promise

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