#ain't no party like a havoc squad party

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Eleven)

It wasn’t often that Jace had the chance to see the soldiers that made up the newest incarnation of Havoc Squad. Despite his fondness for his old squad, his duties as Supreme Commander usually kept him behind a desk on Coruscant. Havoc, in the meantime, typically ran through the entire galaxy like bats from hell — even more than usual with the Zakuulan invasion. But now, with the siege ended and the galaxy under a forced, uneasy peace that felt akin to sitting on top of a crate of unstable explosives, Havoc had been recalled to Coruscant, much to the displeasure of the current commanding officer.

Fortunately, this was one of the rare situations where Saresh’s deeds worked in Jace’s favour, provided that he acted quickly.

He was sitting at his desk when Aric Jorgan marched into his office and sharply saluted. “You wanted to see me, sir?” The Cathar had never been a jovial man, but now was even more sombre than he had been in the wake of Tavus’ defection, or after Major Kota had been injured badly enough to be permanently retired from active duty. Zakuul had taken a toll on everyone.

“Yes. Take a seat, Major.” Jace pressed a button on his desk to lock his office door, grateful that Marcus had taken the time earlier to sweep the room for hidden transmitters. “We have matters of a sensitive nature to discuss.”

Jorgan’s stoic expression cracked with a raised eyebrow. “Is this about Vik losing his temper on Senator Borsani?”

A smirk almost showed itself on Jace’s face. “No, although I do wish I could give him a commendation for that. Unfortunately, what I have to say does not concern Captain Dorne or Forex, either.” The ex-Imperial soldier had proven herself quite a valuable member of Jace’s personal staff — it was an idiotic decision on Saresh’s part to force her out of Havoc, almost as stupid as reassigning Forex to the Morale Initiative. “But before we go any further into this conversation, Major, I need your agreement to maintain operational silence. None of this discussion leaves this room.”

Jorgan’s other eyebrow raised to join the first. “Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Jace reached down into a drawer in his desk and withdrew a datapad, which he handed to Jorgan. “I assume you’ve seen this?”

“The Chancellor’s bounty posting and Zakuul’s Most Wanted?” Jorgan very nearly snarled. “It’s a load of bantha shi— uh, it’s a crock, sir. Even if Master Taerich’s still alive, she was far too much of a Jedi to be a murderer. And I’ve met Agent Shan. He’s the furthest thing from a terrorist.”

“And neither of them would betray the Republic, despite what certain individuals believe. If anything, they’re probably the Republic’s best shot at getting out from under Zakuul’s grip… assuming they aren’t handed to Arcann on a platter.”

Jorgan’s eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting, sir?”

“Something that, to certain individuals, may be considered treasonous.” Jace carefully watched the sniper’s bright green eyes. “If we do what those certain individuals want in regards to handing over Master Taerich or Agent Shan to the Zakuulans, we’re throwing away what I believe are our best hopes. And I think you and I both know how well those same individuals will take our suggestions for an alternative solution.”

The Cathar slowly nodded. “Those particular individuals haven’t been fond of Master Taerich since she tore Sar – one of them a new one after the Makeb incident; they’ve had it out for both of them since Ziost. Everyone in the armed forces and their mothers heard about that.”

“It’s true. And the leader of these individuals would sell both of them for a scrap of flimsi to Zakuul.” Jace leaned forward over his desk and watched Jorgan as the soldier absorbed the conversation. “Now, if you truly believe your conscience demands that you follow the will of the Republic, I’ll respect that and swear you to absolute silence on this conversation.” He wasn’t going to mention that Marcus would have agents following the Cathar’s every move. “However, if you would rather see the galaxy free again —”

“I’m in, sir.” Jorgan’s fangs bared in a grin. “Where is Havoc going?”

That was a weight off of Jace’s chest. He gave Jorgan a small, conspiratorial smirk. “Officially, Havoc Squad is on leave as of right now; where you take your squad on leave is none of my concern. But if you’ll take the advice of an old soldier, Alderaan is lovely this time of year.”

“Alderaan, hmm?” Jorgan crossed his arms in thought. “You haven’t given us bad advice yet, sir. Any recommendations for where we should visit on the surface?”

“If I was still Havoc’s CO, I’d make sure to visit Organa Castle and catch up with some old war friends. Charle Organa’s an old friend of mine and still quite fond of Havoc. I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet the newest CO.” The fact that Marcus had intel suggesting the Organas were sheltering members of the resistance, if not outright joining the resistance themselves, was a bonus.

Jorgan slowly nodded, a smirk crossing his face. Jace could see carefully-restrained glee in the Cathar’s eyes. “The Organas are good people. Yuun will probably find something tracker-related in their archives, and Vik… I’m sure he’ll find some way to keep himself occupied.”

“Good. Your Thunderclap will be ready for departure soon.”

“Yes, sir.” Jorgan’s smirk widened. “And if anyone asks, we’re on Nar Shaddaa.”

Jace grinned. “Excellent. Dismissed, Major — good luck.”

Jorgan sharply saluted and departed from the office, his stride far more purposeful than it had been when he’d entered the room. Jace sat back down as the Cathar vanished from sight and sighed to himself. There was no turning back now. Treason against the Republic, or betrayal of your son and the entire galaxy… there was only one right answer.

“So, good news and bad news,” Kimble said as he took one of the seats around the table and glanced around at his surroundings again. Despite Sorand’s best efforts to accommodate his Republic visitors, the black walls and red banners proved disconcerting and uncomfortable for them. Still, he couldn’t change all the decor of his apartment on the outskirts of Kaas City. “Which one do you want first?”

Theron looked over as Xaja glanced back at him, then at Sorand leaning against the back of Shara’s chair, then back to Kimble. “The good news.”

“Most of what we need for the cure is available in Intelligence’s stores. Doctor Lokin’s bringing back what we need to create the serum in your brother’s laboratory downstairs.” Kimble had to glance over at Sorand at that. “Do I want to know why a Sith Lord has a fully-decked-out science lab in his residence?”

“Long story involving an ancient Sith artifact leaking mind-controlling poisons into the air. You really don’t want to know the details. Talos still gets headaches going in there.” Sorand shook his head. “I’m pretty sure the ghosts of a few of my old masters came back to slap me upside the head for that…”

“Ooookay.” Kimble shook his head. “It is all cleared out though now, right?”

“Yes, it is. Xalek and Ashara cleaned it out once I had the poison contained.”

“Okay, good.” Kimble nodded, then looked back at Xaja. “With what we’ve got onhand right now, we can form the base serum. Carbonite poisoning’s apparently enough of a problem that a cure has been developed.”

“But it’s not so frequent that anyone just keeps it readily on-hand,” Reanden interjected as he meandered into the room. “It’s the only thing that’s been confirmed to save a poisoning victim, if the serum is given to them in time.”

Kimble grimly nodded. “Unfortunately, the one component that we’re missing is the one that’s critical for the serum to work… and the reason why most victims don’t survive.”

“What is that?” Theron asked as he saw Xaja’s brow crease in worry. Under the table, his hand reached out and found hers, and he felt her cling back to him like her life depended on it.

The medic looked down at his datapad. “Quesh venom. We need it to create a chemical called dimalium-6. For a while, Imperial Intelligence was the only group that had that particular chemical.”

“Even then, there was never very much.” Reanden added; Theron saw the old spy’s mouth tighten like his knowledge had a sour taste to it. “Intelligence used it in the process of developing a mind control serum.”

“And you want to give a mind controlling substance to your daughter?” Theron frowned. “How does that help with the poisoning?”

“The mind control serum was one of the uses of dimalium-6. And I’d sooner cut off my arm than force a mind control like that onto anyone.” Reanden shot Theron a dark glare before looking back to Xaja. “In any case, Intelligence scrapped the mind control project years ago, and the chemical now been classified as a controlled substance, ever since the Hutts found out that it’s a spice enhancer.”

“Potential side effects include kriffing with one’s memory and affecting one’s mood,” Kimble added.

Shara lowly whistled under her breath. “So that’s what that osik is. It’s been makin’ rounds through the underworld, apparently it’s behind the newest and greatest forms of glitterstim. The Hutts have been makin’ a killing off if it on Nar Shaddaa.”

Sorand frowned. “So how does a potentially-mind-controlling spice enhancer help Xaja?”

“There is typically a barrier between one’s brain and blood,” Reanden slowly said. “Most human or humanoid species in the galaxy naturally have one. The dimalium-6 works by breaking that barrier — something to do with the properties of Quesh venom. It’s how it opens up the mind for outside controlling influences, or makes spice hit one harder… or we can create a derivative of the venom similar to the dimalium-6 to open up that barrier for treatment of neurological poisoning.”

“Which is why it’s the last critical ingredient we need for the serum,” Kimble finished. “Otherwise, what we’ve got is an expensive method of symptom control that really won’t do much to help you otherwise.” He sat back in his chair and ran both hands through his hair. “So, in conclusion, Xaja is the most high-maintenance lady, Jedi or otherwise, that any of us have ever met.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Xaja rolled her eyes, then looked back at her father. Her fingers hadn’t yet loosened their grip on Theron’s hand yet. “So if this is a controlled substance, how do we get our hands on it?”

“Affording the credits for it won’t be a problem,” Sorand mused. “Assuming, of course, we can access it. Dad, is there a way that we can get it in here without questions being asked?”

“Any other substance and I could just pull strings to get it here.” Their father tapped his fingers against his chin in thought. “Unfortunately, given how controlled and restricted it is, it’s hard even for Intelligence to get access to it. And it’s not something that can be traded for on Nar Shaddaa, when we need the venom in its unaltered state to make the serum.”

“I can get onto Quesh,” Shara volunteered. “And I don’t have to trade nicely to get it. Skadge is useful for exactly one thing.” She grinned evilly. “I can steal it and get it back here.”

“Without being caught or questioned?” Theron frowned. “If you’re already known to be Imperius’ personal favourite bounty hunter, wouldn’t —”

“They won’t see me. They’re just gonna see a hulking brute of a Houk bashing heads until he gets it and then lighting out.” Shara’s grin got wider. “Like I said, Skadge is useful for one thing.”

“Well, two, if we count the meat-shield usage,” Sorand commented.

“Good point, cyar’ika.” Shara beamed up at the Sith, then looked back at the rest of the conspirators. “What’s the deadline for getting the venom back into your hands, Doc?”

“The sooner the better, obviously,” Kimble said. He glanced at Xaja, then at his datapad again. “With how badly Xaja’s slipping downhill, she might be beyond the point of saving in less than three weeks.” Theron’s grip back on Xaja’s hand tightened, and he felt his jaw clench in stubborn determination as he felt anxiety from her along their bond. Not happening. I don’t care what I have to do. You’re not dying like this.

“Hooo boy, and you’re gonna need time to make the cure when I get it back here. Jetiise, always making my life complicated.” Shara stood up from the table and paused long enough to kiss Sorand’s cheek. “I’m headin’ out now. I’ll letcha know when I’ve got the venom.”

“Good luck!” the Sith called after the departing Mandalorian’s back, then turned back to his houseguests. “Doctor Kimble, you and Doctor Lokin have full access to the laboratory — let me know if there’s anything you’re missing from there and I’ll get it for you. Theron, when you do inevitably get bored and slice into my computers, please just leave the files labeled Dark Temple or Spectres alone. You really don’t want to know.”

Theron had the grace to look a little abashed. “If it makes you feel better, I wasn’t planning on looking through your files. I’m planning on tracking communications regarding the hunt for us.”

“That’s fair. I’d be doing the same thing. Xaja, since you shouldn’t be using the Force here even if you weren’t sick, I’ll just show you where my library is. I promise it’s not all Sith texts.” Sorand looked around the room. “Is there anything else you need at the moment?”

“Nothing that comes to mind. I owe you for this, little brother.”

“Survive this and kick Arcann’s ass back to Wild Space where he and his ilk belong, and we’ll call it square.” The Sith came around the table and offered Xaja his arm. “C’mon, I’ll get you oriented with the apartment before I have to return to the Citadel.”

Theron finally let go of Xaja’s hand as she stood up, trying to be subtle about taking her brother’s arm for support. The spy watched as both siblings meandered out of the room, Sorand notably shortening his long stride for his sister. Without seeing them together, one might have never suspected them to be related. When beside each other, however, the similarities were clear: despite Sorand inheriting Reanden’s brown eyes and Xaja their mother’s green, they shared the same eye shape, the same facial structure. Their hair, also of widely differing color, shared the same thick, poker-straight texture, capping off the same slender frames… even if Sorand did stand almost a foot taller than his sister. This was all without taking into account their respective strengths in the Force. Korin had once even tried to describe the similarities between their Force-signatures. It was a description lost on the all-but-Force-blind spy. As they turned a corner, Theron could see they had the same smile, Sorand apparently having made some sarcastic joke that he couldn’t hear at their current volume to make Xaja laugh, and apparently succeeding.

Settling back into his seat as both Sith and Jedi vanished down the hallway, Theron rubbed his hands over his face. Xaja was scared, no matter how much she tried to hide it, and he was terrified under the brave face he was putting on for her. I can’t lose her, not again, not like this…

“She’ll be okay.”

Reanden’s hand dropped onto his shoulder as the old spy paused behind his chair. Lokin and Kimble were already leaving the room for the lab, talking between themselves about chemical components and the creation of serums and symptom management until Shara got her hands on the venom. “Lokin and Kimble are two of the most brilliant doctors I’ve ever met,” he continued. “Sorand will move planets if he thinks it’ll help his sister. And you know how stubborn Xaja is. She won’t lie down and die like this.”

“You’re not wrong,” Theron admitted as he looked up at the old Cipher. “I might even believe you, if you didn’t sound like you were trying to convince yourself of that.” He could see the stoop of Reanden’s shoulders and noted just how drawn and worn his face looked at that moment.

“She’s my daughter, Shan. I’m going to worry no matter what.” Reanden sighed and squeezed Theron’s shoulder in a surprisingly almost-affectionate gesture before he continued walking. “You have enough common sense to not do anything stupid while you’re slicing into the computers. Let me know if anything happens.” He lingered long enough to see Theron’s nod before he left, leaving the spy alone with his thoughts.

Closing his eyes, he reached for the bright point of light in his mind that was Xaja. I’m going to save you, no matter what it takes. I promise.

Jedha’s winds were cold, even in the middle of the Holy City, the maze of low-lying buildings acting almost as wind tunnels. Satele drew her robe tighter around herself as she walked through the streets to reach the Temple located here, feeling rather relieved that Darth Marr’s ghost wasn’t currently lurking over her shoulder. She had no idea where the Sith’s apparition had disappeared to, but it felt… wrong… somehow to even contemplate bringing him here. It was ancient, almost as old as the ruins on Tython, and had been more frequently inhabited since Tython was abandoned thousands of years ago — although now, with the Jedi all but gone, no Knights or Masters could be found here.

Yet the Force had guided her here to this location. The former Grand Master’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. From what she could sense, Master Xaja was definitely not on Jedha; and if she wasn’t here, Theron would have little reason to be. She hadn’t seen anyone matching her son’s description either. A spy he may be, capable of vanishing into the crowd, Theron wouldn’t be so heartless to not reassure her that he was all right if he saw her… right?

Not dead yet. Can’t talk, will explain later. Sorry. T. That was hardly a sufficient apology note for scaring one’s mother to death. Theron, where are you? Are you and Master Xaja safe, at least? No, that was a stupid question: nowhere in the galaxy was safe, not with that bounty on their heads. Satele supposed that safety was relative.

She let herself into the abandoned Temple through a side entrance and slowly walked through the corridors, brushing her fingers against the softly glowing kyber crystals set in the walls. She had come here once as a Padawan with Master Zho, and had been awestruck by the Temple then; even as an older, wiser Jedi Master now, this place was still beautiful and awe-inspiring. The ancient Temple was still a marvel, even if empty and —

Her blue eyes narrowed. No, it wasn’t empty. She could feel another presence in the Force — not light like a Jedi, nor dark like a Sith. Balanced, like… the Knights of Zakuul. On quiet feet, Satele crept further into the Temple, mouth set firmly at the idea of the Zakuulans in this place.

The Zakuulan in question was a woman wearing a white cloak with a hood, not quite pulled forward enough to hide her steely grey hair. Underneath, Satele could see white and grey armour in the style of the Knights, and a lightsaber hanging from her belt. The stranger had her hands clasped in front of her and appeared to be admiring the Temple, until she turned to see Satele standing at one of the corridor entrances. There were several long seconds of a tense silence before the intruder spoke. “This place is magnificent.” Her voice was lower pitched and quiet, but still strong — this was a leader among the Zakuulans.

Satele inclined her head in agreement. “It is a sacred site for the Jedi. It was one of the first Temples, and is at least as old as the Republic itself.”

The Zakuulan nodded. “You are — you were one of them?” Startlingly pale blue eyes glanced at the saber-staff hanging from Satele’s belt, then back up to her face.

“Yes.” Satele shifted her weight slightly between her feet. “What brings a Knight of Zakuul into the Jedha Temple and the Holy City?”

“Would you believe me if I said the curiosity of a tourist?”

That got a raised eyebrow and the patented Grand-Master-Shan-disapproves look. “Are the sacred places of my people now tourist attractions for yours?”

“No. My apologies, Master Jedi.” The Zakuulan offered a shallow bow. “There has been a call within the Force, one that will not rest. It has led me here, but…” She took another look around the room. “I had hoped to find answers in here.”

Oh, blast it. The Force nudged at Satele — this was who she had been led to. “Strangely enough, I also was called here. I had hoped to find news of my son and his — his partner.”

“They are missing?” The Zakuulan sounded concerned.

You would not be nearly so concerned if you knew their names. “Yes, and have been for some time. She went MIA during the war, and he… didn’t take the news well. I haven’t seen him since he ran off on some damned-fool mission to find her.”

“I am sorry.” Pity softened the Zakuulan’s eyes. She looked away from Satele and back to the ancient architecture around them. “… The Jedi were healers as well as warriors and diplomats, were they not?”

“Some were,” Satele cautiously acknowledged.

The Zakuulan nodded. Her facial expression shifted, hinting at a terrible pain behind her eyes. “I had hoped to find anything in the Jedi teachings for… for healing a broken mind. My son and my daughter… their father did horrible things to their minds, twisted them so that I can barely recognize my own children.” She took a shaky breath. “I would do anything to see them healed and restored to what they were.”

“I’m sorry.” Satele felt a burst of compassion in her heart for the hurting mother in front of her. “Their father is no longer in a position to harm them?”

“No. He was killed two years ago, and I still do not know if I am relieved or grieving.” The Zakuulan sighed heavily. “If I had known he would do that to them, I would never have…”

“The future is always in motion, and not even the wisest can see all paths.” Satele took a step closer to the stranger. “You could not have known what was to come.”

“No, I suppose you are right.” The Zakuulan blinked rapidly as though hiding tears, then turned back to Satele. “I am sorry — I ought to introduce myself. I am Senya Tirall.”

“Satele Shan,” the Jedi answered with a slight bow.

Senya’s eyes widened. “Not the same Satele Shan who was hailed as the leader of the Jedi Order?”

“The very same, while there was a Jedi Order.” Satele carefully watched the Zakuulan’s eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“… Not at all, Master Shan.” Senya inclined her head. “If it means anything… I am sorry for what happened to your people. The Jedi should not have had the fate they suffered.”

Satele nodded in acknowledgement of the apology. “There are enough of us who survived. The Order will endure — it always has.”

“That… oddly reassures me.” Senya’s mouth twitched in a small smile. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Knight Tirall.” Until you find out who my son is and who he’s with. “Come, let us find somewhere more comfortable to talk than here.”

“Please, call me Senya.”

“Then I must insist on Satele.”