#keep your mitts off of Commander!Dad Arcann

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (chapter seven)

“I have names for you, Your Majesty.” Larill’s blue holofigure shimmered in the air before the Eternal Throne. “The assassin is a former Jedi Knight named Xaja Taerich; and the terrorist, a rogue intelligence operative, Theron Shan. Chancellor Saresh is not fond of them, and, as a result, was more than willing to give up their identities. Apparently Taerich is a traitor despite being hailed a Republic war hero, and Shan, she believes, is an incompetent idiot.”

“And she did not surrender not the assets themselves?” Arcann frowned behind his mask.

“The Chancellor and her people were convinced that Taerich was long dead, and the Supreme Commander stated that Shan had been killed recently.” He paused. “We may be dealing with rogue, unsanctioned elements.”

“Perhaps Shan was sent to the Spire on a suicide mission,” Arcann mused. “If the Republic’s SIS authorized it, Commander Malcom would have been aware of it, even if he neglected to inform the Chancellor.”

“And thus be surprised to learn of the plan failure and Shan improvising something completely unsanctioned.” Larill stroked his bearded chin in thought. “I do not believe his shock came from a failed plan -- he was nowhere near angry enough. He seemed to be upset over Shan’s reported death, perhaps for personal reasons.”

“The terrorist, connected to the Supreme Commander? That would be important information to determine, Larill.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Larill seemed to glance at a datapad on his end of the call. “Once I received their names, I did some prying into Taerich and Shan’s files. They were not strangers -- they had worked together before on several missions, some classified. Reports indicate that they may have been lovers.”

“Lovers? That might explain why he abandoned his task to set off the charges when he found her frozen.” Arcann tapped his metal fingers against his mask-covered chin. “Get me everything the Republic archives have on them, and their intelligence services’ search for them. And get me everything on Commander Malcom as well.”

“It will be done.” Larill bowed. “Do you have any other commands for me?”

“Given that I do not know how competent the SIS’ remaining agents are, I am sending you a report of a possible sighting on an Outer Rim world, Rishi. Taerich and Shan may have been seen with an accomplice. Find what you can about this man.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Larill vanished, and Arcann stood up to pace in front of the Throne.

Xaja Taerich… yes, that was her name. He still could clearly remember the fire in her eyes as she stood bravely over the corpse of her Sith colleague; the way she’d spat furious words and very creative insults at his father, even though her hands shook with fear in binder cuffs. Anyone who could stand up to Valkorion in such a manner was more than able to kill him, and she’d been more than willing to do the deed. Arcann remembered well being knocked back by his father’s lightning strike, looking up in time to see the Jedi pouncing from on high like an avenging angel, driving her lightsabers through Valkorion’s back. He had been grudgingly impressed by her courage. Still, that courage all but deserted her in the freezing chamber: her terrified screams still echoed in his mind in quiet moments.

Freezing you to cover up my role in my father’s death was a mistake, Arcann mused. I should have just executed you. You were still weak if you felt fear like that at the end. But he hadn’t brought himself to order the death of the pretty Jedi woman. Something about her was… fascinating. That much fire in her spirit, that much power within her grasp… Arcann wished he’d had the idea to convert her into the Knights of Zakuul before he’d frozen her. She would have been an asset to rival even Vaylin.

And if that spy had worked with her before… any man with an inclination towards women would have fallen for Taerich’s alluring presence. Had they truly been lovers, it was little wonder that Shan risked everything to find and rescue her. He must have been powerful in his own way to sway her to him. Yet the spy hadn’t used a lightsaber during their escape from the Spire; Arcann had seen the footage, watched him using ordinary blaster pistols. He’d also seen the way that Taerich had stayed very close to him, and how the spy had angled himself so as to protect her…

The Emperor snarled. He would not be jealous of a likely-Force-blind spy, of all people.

And if she’s a Republic war hero as claimed, the Supreme Commander would want her back for morale and strategic purposes. I would have, if I had been in his position. Was this a joint effort with remnants of the Jedi Order? Arcann frowned.  Most of the Order itself had fallen on the battlefield. Those that survived were grief stricken and hollow. They scattered to the far reaches of the galaxy and silenced their sabers. A plan to retrieve a hero of the Republic could achieve a moral victory, reigniting their will, and stoking the embers of war yet again. Was someone -- Commander Malcom -- attempting to push the Republic to the brink of war yet again?

Arcann frowned. It was possible that the Commander knew nothing, that Shan was acting alone. There’s only one way to find out, he thought. Until Shan and Taerich are found, Malcom will be our only link. I will know the originator of this insult, and they will answer for it. 

The shuttle whined as it exited hyperspace just over the small world known as Manda, verging on the border between the Mid-Rim and the Outer Rim. Theron swooped down toward the planet’s atmosphere, his gaze shifting between the viewscreen and the detection icons around the shuttle. “I’m gonna try and set a new destination before the hunters figure out where we’ve gone,” he called over his shoulder. “How are you doing, Xaja?”

“Shoulder hurts, but I’ve had worse.” Her voice sounded tight with pain, but she didn’t sound weak or frail anymore. That was already improvement. Theron risked a glance back to see her sitting upright on a chair, the jacket pulled back off her shoulder so Kimble could treat the wound. It was a pretty gruesome blaster shot, but Theron could already see that it wasn’t life-threatening, just painful. That was good. That was very good.

The proximity alarm sounded as pursuing ships dropped out of hyperspace just behind them, and Theron swore eloquently as he banked the shuttle hard to the left. It just got worse. “Dammit, hold on! We got company!”

“Can we lose them on the planet’s surface?” Kimble shouted as he stumbled, dropping some piece of medical equipment with the movement.

“Manda doesn’t have much to hide us,” Theron answered as he maneuvered upward and around. For a moment, one of the enemy ships was in front of him; he opened fire and missed, but the shot did force the hunters to adjust their course out of the line of fire. “Our best chance is to jump and try to lose them.”

“Because that worked so well last time,” Kimble sarcastically commented.

“Do you have any better ideas?” Theron snapped over his shoulder, groaning when he saw another late-coming ship enter the fray. Laser fire peppered the sky in front of him, making him jerk hard to the side to not get hit.

“… No,” Kimble grudgingly admitted, “but there’s got to be a better option than --”

Four ships against one shuttle? The odds were never in their favour. Theron grunted as a shot hit the side wing of his shuttle and made the vessel jerk. “Kriffing hell. New plan!”

“Great! What’s the new plan?”

“Step one is to not die.” Theron brought the shuttle around and fired, and counted himself lucky that he managed to get a glancing blow on one of the ships pursuing. “Step two…” He scowled at the system warnings blazing across the console. “We’re not hyperspace jumping, not unless we want to die terribly in the tunnel.”

Xaja let loose with a couple of decidedly non-Jedi-like expletives that made Theron feel at once startled and immensely proud of her. “So now what? Land on Manda and hope there’s another shuttle we can steal if we can’t repair this one?”

“Assuming we survive long enough to reach the surface, yes --” Theron blinked in surprise as the late-comer ship suddenly swooped over his viewscreen and opened fire. He recognized it as the Phantom-class ship he’d nearly run into while fleeing Rishi, and for a moment couldn’t decide what surprised him more: the firepower of the supposedly civilian-class shuttle, or the fact that it scored a direct hit on one of the hunter vessels, igniting it to dust. “Huh. Competition for the prize?”

“What?” Kimble appeared at Theron’s side and looked over his shoulder. “Looks like someone doesn’t want to share a hundred million credits.”

The fine hair on the back of Theron’s neck stood on end. “Either that or we might have a friend,” he mused, then yelled as another hit nearly tore the controls out of his hands. “Kriff it. We’re going down!” He aimed the shuttle toward the planet’s surface and descended hard, eyes darting between the radar behind him and the viewscreen in front. The three other ships were in close pursuit, although one suddenly disappeared in another ball of flame. He didn’t have time to wonder if the Phantom had been protecting them, taking out the competition, or had just been shot down themselves -- Manda’s atmosphere was rapidly clouding his vision. Maybe landing in the middle of a storm will give us enough cover to escape.

He’d never been on Manda before, and knew only enough to know that the planet was scarcely populated and supposedly spacious enough for shuttles to land with little problem. Must have picked the one mountainous area to land on, he silently grumbled as he veered sharply around a mountainside, then yelled as a third shot to the back of the ship sent him spiraling further downward, sweeping into a valley.

“This is gonna hurt! Brace for impact!” he shouted back. Jungle trees swarmed his vision and his poor shuttle ricocheted over and between them. His chest pounded against his yoke, his head smacked the bulkhead. The shuttle finally made contact with the ground -- hard -- and skidded for kilometers, a cleared trail behind them over the rocky terrain.

He was still for several long seconds after the crashed shuttle stopped moving, mentally checking to ensure each of his systems responded. He found he had to focus on breathing before he could move. “Xaja? Kimble?” he breathlessly called out.

“Still here, Theron.” That was Xaja’s voice. Soft and thready, it sounded like she was in pain. When he crawled out of the pilot’s seat and stumbled up to her side, however, she was scrambling to her feet and didn’t appear to have been too badly thrown around. Kimble was there, too, but was slowly sitting up. Blood trickled out of cut somewhere on the back of his head, visible in the nape of his neck. “How bad are we doing?”

“Not sure the shuttle’s fixable,” Theron confessed as he braced himself on the table and crouched to check on Kimble, “but I’ve seen worse. You two hurt at all?”

Kimble cracked an eye open to squint up at Theron. As he did so, the former operative could see his pupils were slightly dilated. “You’re bleeding, Shan.” When Theron frowned and patted at his face, he could indeed feel a trickle of blood streaming down from his temple. “Gimme a sec to get up and I can take care of that.”

“You worry about yourself,” Theron grunted as he helped the medic sit up. “I’m not the one who was knocked flat.” The sudden whine of another rapidly-descending ship made all three of them look sharply up. Each winced despite themselves at the sound of a nearby crash. “That’s not a good sound.”

“I hope that was one of the hunter ships and not that other sleek lookin’ ship,” Kimble muttered as he slowly maneuvered himself to a chair.

“Unless that Phantom is looking to keep the payday for themselves,” Theron grunted as he started slowly making his way to the shuttle entrance. He paused beside Xaja as she knelt beside Kimble and dropped a hand to her good shoulder. “I’ll take a look --”

“Theron!” Xaja grabbed his hand and gave him a worried look. “You’re not going out there by yourself!”

“You’re still sick,” Theron said as he kissed her forehead. “And I’m hurt less than you or Kimble are.” He wasn’t going to admit to how woozy and nauseous he felt -- maybe he’d hit his head a little harder than he’d thought. “I’m not going far, Xaja. We need to know how kriffed we are, though.”

Xaja gave him that too-knowing frown he’d received a lot of on Yavin and Ziost, the one where he swore she knew just how terrible he felt. Although considering the strange bond they seemed to share now, he supposed that wasn’t impossible. “I’m coming with you --”

“No, you’re not. Kimble needs someone guarding his back, and I’m not letting you risk getting captured.” All three gave a start at the sound of blaster fire and screams outside. “That’s a ship firing,” Theron murmured, frowning in thought. “One of those two ships still has operational weapons systems and they’re low enough to use it on the ground.”

“Theron, I’m not the only high-value target they’re chasing! You’re worth just as much to them!”

“Look,” he started, “Kimble can’t exactly go investigate with that concussion, and your shoulder’s still out of commission.” He frowned as the sound of blasters and shouting got much closer. A tell-tale thump against the hull spoke to their proximity. “I’ll be okay, Xaja -- I’ll come back to you, I promise.” He kneeled to kiss her, then stood and crept toward the shuttle exit.

When he got the door partially opened, the first thing he saw was rain -- and lots of it. He’d landed in the middle of a downpour, and the pursuers hadn’t hesitated to follow him down. If he squinted, he was sure he could see the silhouette of a downed ship nearby in the rain. There were bodies on the ground too, somewhere close to a dozen humanoid figures with different armour styles that he could just see in the dim light. He frowned when he saw a couple more figures skulking around. There was no sign of the last remaining ship that he could see, and he wondered if they’d just done a few low flybys before taking off.

He scowled and slipped out of the shuttle, cringing as the rain immediately plastered his hair down and started trickling down his neck. Blaster drawn, he crept around the side of his vessel and hunkered down in the shadows. There, two figures that he could see approaching, then a third far to the right -- then the third figure crumpled noiselessly, and Theron thought he saw the glint of light off a durasteel blade. But what --

A heavy fist slammed into his gut and made him reel before he was all but thrown against the side of the shuttle. The bounty hunter’s stealth generator shorted out as he loomed over Theron and grabbed him back up by the front of his jacket. “You’re the biggest pain in the ass of a bounty I’ve ever hunted,” he growled. “Zakuul better be up front with those credits they’re offerin’ for you!”

“Toxicity eight!” Theron shouted as he aimed his gauntlet and squeezed his fist. The dart flew out and just missed the bounty hunter, who growled and punched Theron again, earning a wheeze. The spy grunted and snatched up his dropped blaster, aiming it vaguely upward and firing, and earning a holler for his trouble as the shot hit the hunter’s leg.

“You kriffing Hutt-spawn!” snarled the hunter as he swiped at Theron again. Head still swimming, the spy only just managed to duck out of the way. “It’s a good thing they don’t care about you bein’ alive, just identifiable. I’m gonna kriffin’ rip out your innards an’ then kark up that pretty lady friend you got --”

Fury made Theron’s vision go red, but he didn’t have time to react as a bright blue lightsaber blade ignited in the darkness. A scream made him aware of another approaching hunter falling into a heap as Xaja ambushed him from the shuttle entrance. Despite only having one working arm, it seemed she could still wield a blade well enough to kill from the shadows, even if she couldn’t stay out of a fight. It was less endearing a trait right now than it had been on Ziost or Manaan.

“So she is a kriffin’ Jedi,” growled the hunter. He punched Theron hard enough to make the spy see stars and flop bonelessly on the wet ground, then hurried up to the shuttle entrance with a growl. Xaja had to have seen or heard him coming -- Theron could feel a sudden burst of worry and of anger from the tug in his mind that felt like her. The lightsaber hummed as it spun through the rain, steam rising from the blade as Xaja countered the hunter’s attack. Theron groaned as he rolled to his stomach and struggled up to his knees, seeing two more hunters approaching through the darkness. She can’t hold off all of them, he knew, and raised his blaster to shoot.

He never got the chance. A third figure suddenly emerged from a stealth field behind the hunters, and the guy on the left dropped with a spray of what looked like blood, his assassin spinning a dagger with terrifying efficiency. The other whirled and fired in what seemed to be a panic. The assassin neatly avoided the shot and dove in, nice and close. Theron just saw the blade take the hunter through the ribs and watched the hulking humanoid fall.

A cry behind him drew his attention and the former operative turned just in time to see the hunter knock Xaja against the hull of the shuttle. She dropped with a strangled cry, her lightsaber deactivating as she fell. Blaster fire immediately followed, aimed at the hunter. Looking back, Theron noted the assassin had drawn a blaster, and focused his attention on the hulking mass.

Snarling at the interfering shot, the hunter ignored his Jedi target long enough to fire back at the assassin. The shot seemed to deflect from some sort of protection field the mysterious figure had deployed, and then the assassin was charging, dagger flying from his offhand. Theron heard the ding as the blade missed the target and hit the shuttle door, followed by  the growl as the hunter jumped at the assassin. “They’re mine! That hun’red million credits is mine!”

The assassin didn’t answer, saving his breath to dodge out of the way and shoot from the hip as he moved. I’ve seen that fighting style before, Theron realized with a frown, rising painfully and raising his arm. Where have I seen that? And the ship… some report… He shook his head in an attempt to clear the addled thoughts. Need a clear shot. Guy with the knives might be a friend. At least he’s probably not gonna kill us right off. With how quickly the assassin was moving around the hulking, well-armoured hunter, it was hard to get a clear line of sight. The hunter roared and swung wildly. When he finally landed a blow, the assassin grunted and stumbled backward a step.

It was just enough for Theron. “Toxicity ten,” he snarled, and this time the dart found its target. The hunter fell in a heap, and Theron sagged against the side of the shuttle, warily watching the assassin as he regained his footing and turned in his direction. I really hope you’re not another hunter out to take out the competition, buddy, he wearily thought as the humanoid figure approached. Because I don’t think I can see straight enough to take you down.

A hand gently yet firmly gripped his chin, and a light shone from the assassin’s other hand. “Oh, good, you’re not dead after all.” That voice sounded all at once entirely too familiar, and Theron suddenly knew exactly where he’d seen the man’s fighting style before.

“Cipher,” he grunted, and tried to ignore the pain flooding through his chest where he’d been punched by the hunter. “Don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see you before.” Xaja, at least, wasn’t going to be turned in for the bounty today.

“You are such a pain in the ass, Rookie,” the older spy complained, and a second later Theron yelped as he was smacked upside the back of the head. “And before I forget, Korin says hello.”

Right. Korin probably would have told his father about his best friend’s suicide note. Theron felt himself inwardly cringe. “Yeah, I deserved that,” he grunted.

“Honestly, he said to punch you, but there’s nowhere I can really punch you that wouldn’t do more damage.” Reanden Taerich pulled Theron around to the back exit of the shuttle with a strength that a man his age really shouldn’t have otherwise had, then looked around in worry. “Xaja?” he called out. Was that fear Theron could hear in the older man’s voice?

“… Dad?” Movement in the shadows from where Xaja had been knocked down and had dropped her lightsaber. Her voice was faint and strained; Theron could sense both pain and a disbelieving, shocked hope. “Are you?…”

Reanden pulled himself away from Theron to run in the direction of Xaja’s voice and drop to his knees. “Easy, baby girl,” he murmured as he carefully lifted Xaja’s slim frame off the wet ground. His voice changed from a cocky, arrogant older spy to a terrified father. “Oh, honey, look at me. I’m here, kiddo. Dad’s got you, you’re safe --”

Even in the dim light, Theron could see Xaja throw her uninjured arm around her father’s shoulders and cling to him, and he swore he could see the one-time Cipher Nine’s back shaking as he held his missing daughter close. The sheer relief and sense of protection and safety that he sensed from her through their bond made his own limbs weak -- or was that his throbbing head and aching ribs?

“Kriffing hells, Shan!” was the last thing he heard before his world went black.

When Theron came to, he was immediately assaulted with the scents of antiseptic and kolto, irritatingly bright lights just overhead. “Ah, welcome back, young one,” said a too-cheerful voice. Cracking an eye open, he was immediately greeted with a smirk and a white beard. “That’s one nasty concussion you gave yourself, Agent Shan. You can count yourself fortunate you didn’t puncture one of your lungs with those broken ribs either.”

Lokin, he thought, recognizing the man from the Revanite incident years prior. He sat up slowly -- with assistance from the doctor -- and groaned with the effort. It offered his first full view of his surroundings. The medbay was unfamiliar, a single bed with a kolto tank in the corner to the right, a desk to his left. It was sleek and clean, with bright lights flooding the area. Has to be the Shadow, he thought. The cipher agent’s personal shuttle had been mentioned numerous times in the reports. It was the first time he, as a former SIS operative, had been afforded the chance to come aboard. He just wished the reason hadn’t been quite so painful.  “Where’re Xaja and Kimble?” he slowly asked when he felt like the ship wasn’t spinning around him and his lunch wasn’t on its way back up.

“Over here,” Kimble’s voice sounded. Theron looked over, seeing the other man slouching in a seat with a clean bandage around his forehead. “Why didn’t Xaja ever have a medbay like this on the Serenity? This place is stylish as hell!”

“Probably something to do with the Order’s budget restraints,” Lokin suggested with a shrug. “Imperial Intelligence had a bit more leeway with their credits.”

Kimble groaned. “Life is so not fair.”

“Oh, you kids don’t know the half of it,” the elder doctor said with a grin. He looked back to Theron when the other spy tried sliding off the medical bed. “Easy, Shan. That concussion hasn’t healed itself in the last hour. You’re going to be quite a miserable young spy for a bit here.”

“Wonderful.” Theron rested his arms on his knees and bent over for several long minutes to focus on breathing and not throwing up. “Where’s Xaja?”

“She’s safe, I promise. She and her father are still talking out in the main seating area. They’ve got two years to catch up on, after all.” Lokin started putting away most of his medical gear. “And Agent Taerich’s quite relieved to have her back, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“You have no idea.” Reanden appeared in the doorway to medbay. Now that they were in a dry, well-lit area and not fighting, Theron could see the thinner, more drawn features of the older man’s face; the greater amounts of grey peppering his dark hair; the deeper lines around his mouth and eyes. The last two years had not treated Cipher Nine well. “I rather think I owe you one, Shan, much as it pains me to say it.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“No. The fact that you found my daughter alive is the only other reason why I’m not following through on Korin’s request to punch you.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” Theron craned his neck to peer around Reanden. “Xaja?”

“I’m okay.” Theron’s heart relaxed when the red-headed Jedi appeared beside her father. New bruises were visible along her jaw and cheek, left arm in a sling, but she offered him a tired smile. “We’re all okay, all things considered.”

“Yes, for being the subject of the single largest bounty posting I’ve ever seen. Fifty million -- each -- just for information leading to a capture.” Reanden shook his head and protectively wrapped an arm around Xaja’s shoulders. “You two are going to be the two most hunted people in the galaxy, and I don’t imagine information on you will be far behind, Kimble.” That earned a groan from the medic.

Theron grimaced. “Okay. Then we need to figure out a plan to vanish before other hunters start catching up. We’ll have to see if there’s anywhere safe we can hide out.”

“And new transportation.” Reanden frowned in thought. “Your shuttle might be salvageable with enough work, Shan, but it’s already been tagged. SCORPIO picked up some of the chatter above Rishi before we took off after you. The three ships that jumped after you aren’t a concern anymore, but if they were transmitting their coordinates back to their friends, there’s going to be a lot more activity in this system soon.”

“Great.” Theron sighed. “This just made things a lot more difficult.”

“If you think you can stand up and function well enough to salvage anything you desperately need off that shuttle, we can shoot it and make it look like it disintegrated on impact.” The Imperial gestured in the general direction of the site. “It might slow the pursuit enough for us to get you somewhere safe.”

“Do you have somewhere in mind, Dad?” Xaja tilted her head up at her father, pale face drawn with concern.

“There’s a couple of options. I know the locations of a few different anti-Zakuulan resistance cells that might be able to hide you. If all else fails, we can change your appearances and hide you somewhere on Tatooine or Taris or Hoth -- somewhere nobody will think to look for you.” Reanden absently ran his fingers along Xaja’s hair and the Jedi visibly relaxed into his shoulder. “Your brothers might be able to work something, too. Korin knows most of the underworld, and Sorand has connections to the Mandalorians or plenty of influence within the Empire.”

“Are he and Shara still a thing?”

“Yes. They’re adorable.” A grin tugged at Reanden’s mouth for a moment before he sobered again. “We might be able to get you to Lavisar. The old house is supposedly abandoned, so nobody should think to look for you there. It’s not ideal, but…”

“It’ll be something, and better than Hoth… well, warmer than Hoth,” Theron agreed as he finally stood up, holding onto the table -- and Lokin’s arm -- to stay upright. “’Kay, I’ll grab what I can from the shuttle and wipe what I can’t take with.”

“And with any luck, the burnt-out wreck should make people think you’re dead at a first glance. It won’t hold to a bioscan, but it might buy you enough time to disappear.” Reanden turned and kissed Xaja’s forehead. “Stay put. We’ll be right back.”

“Yes, Dad.” Xaja gave her father a smile, then slipped out from under his arm and gave Theron a hug as he approached. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” she murmured with a worried frown.

“I should be asking that about you.” Theron rested his forehead against hers for a moment. “I’ve had way worse than a concussion and a few broken ribs. I’ll be fine.”

The Jedi still appeared doubtful for a moment, but finally nodded and stretched up to kiss Theron’s cheek. “Okay. You’ll let my dad know if you’re feeling worse?”

Like hell I will. “Of course.” Theron smiled and gave Xaja a chaste kiss, aware of her father lurking nearby. “Back in a sec.” He finally stepped away from her, toward the exit of the medbay. He felt less shaky and weak with every step he took. Whatever Lokin had given him while he was out, it seemed to be helping with the concussion.

“Here, put this on,” Reanden suddenly said, his voice surprisingly gruff. He shoved a dark, oversized jacket into Theron’s arms. “Your other one’s still drenched and I don’t need you coming down with pneumonia on top of everything else.”

Theron supposed the jacket was something of a begrudging thank-you for finding his daughter. The older spy waited while he shrugged on the borrowed jacket, then led him to the exit hatch of his ship. Theron had only a few paces in which to admire the sleek interior of the shuttle, but it was long enough to kindle a bit of envy over the obvious budget discrepancies between SIS and Imperial Intelligence.  Was that real wood inlaid in the floor? Reanden’s voice brought him back to the matter at hand. “Your wreck’s about a hundred metres or so away.”

“That close?” Theron said as he followed Reanden out into the rain and shivered at the wind on his face. At least this jacket was proving waterproof, and warm. “We didn’t see you come down.”

“Oh, good, the ship that Intelligence spent millions of credits on does have working stealth systems.” The sarcasm was evident even with his back turned to Theron. “You weren’t focusing terribly hard on trying to track us, for obvious reasons.”

Theron rolled his eyes as he trudged through the trees to the wreck of his shuttle. “How did you know where we were? I heard what you said about picking up chatter over Rishi, but…”

“I’ve got contacts everywhere, kid. One of them saw you in Raider’s Cove and sent me a message. I got there just in time to see you hauling jets away from the planet and jumped after you.”

That made sense, Theron reasoned. He nodded as his shuttle came into view and scrambled in the narrow entrance. Either Kimble had opened the door just enough to let himself out, or someone had forced the shuttle open enough to get him out. “Far as physical items go, there’s not a heck of a lot,” he commented. “Kimble’s going to want his medic bag though… Xaja doesn’t have a lot on board that she wasn’t already wearing.”

“Understandable.” Reanden accepted Kimble’s rucksack as Theron handed it over and set to accessing his computer systems. “Shan… Theron. I need to know something.”

“Hmm?” Theron looked up at the use of his first name and quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“She was missing for over two years. Every scrap of information that I pulled off of Zakuul indicated that she was dead. Even the rumours of an Outlander assassin all came up with false leads and dead ends.” Reanden leaned over and gripped Theron’s shoulder. The younger man paused in his work and turned to meet an intensely piercing brown-eyed stare. “How the hell did you know she was alive and where she was?”

Theron hesitated for a long second. How much did Korin tell him?… “I didn’t,” he finally admitted. “Finding her was a lucky accident. I had no intel on her either.”

Reanden’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing on Zakuul that had you finding her? All Korin told me was that you’d sent him a suicide note from there.”

“Kriff.” Theron hunched his shoulders and sighed, trying to figure out a way to get out of this. “Korin and I had been tossing around the idea of finding a way to strike at Zakuul where Arcann thought he was safe, so I’d gone in on reconnaissance. Then I found Xaja alive and, well… the rest is history.”

“Almost, kid. How did that suicide note play into this?”

“I’d had a note programmed to a dead man’s switch in my head, just in case.” Theron tapped at one of his implants and tried not to think about how desperately he hoped the older spy believed his lie. “It malfunctioned, and I didn’t catch it until we were on Rishi.”

“Hmmm.” Reanden appeared to let the subject drop for the moment. “So Arcann had her as a prisoner this entire time… how the hell did he get her off the flagship alive?”

“She doesn’t know.” Theron shrugged as he started downloading essential data into his implants. “She got knocked out on the ship, and woke up en route to Zakuul. They took Marr alive too, and he was actually executed. They were going to execute Xaja too, but Arcann freed her long enough for her to kill the old Emperor.”

“So the assassin rumours were true.” Reanden frowned. “And Arcann imprisoned her to cover up his role in his father’s assassination…”

“It gets better. She swears up and down that Valkorion was Vitiate’s latest form.”

“What?” Fury shot through Reanden’s eyes, mingled with disbelief and horror. “The son of a bitch was on Zakuul the entire time? Then what the fuck did we see on Yavin and Ziost?” He drew a steadying breath. “He’s actually dead this time, though?”

“He’d better be,” Theron growled. “I don’t think Xaja could deal with him a third time.”

“I wouldn’t be able to if I was in her boots. Oh, the poor kid…” Reanden raked a hand through his mussed-up hair. “So Arcann used her to kill Vitiate, and then imprisoned her and made the rest of us think she was dead. That bastard’s going to pay for this.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually agree with you on something,” Theron muttered. “I think I’ve pulled everything valuable off of here that I need. Wiping the rest of the data now.”

“Good.” Reanden hiked the rucksack over his shoulder and started poking into the storage bins on board the small shuttle. “Anything else essential you need out of here? Diaries, perhaps? Porn holos?”

“Very funny,” Theron retorted. “Just a sec.” He crouched beside the bunk and opened a secret compartment in the floor, and retrieved three items. The set of old dog tags bearing his father’s combat identification details went around his neck and the worn-looking journal covered in his mother’s handwriting was neatly tucked into his jacket. The one holo of Xaja that he’d been able to preserve from their entire first stint on Rishi disappeared into his pants pocket, and then he stood up. “Good to go.”

Reanden nodded and stepped back toward the shuttle exit. “Works for me,” he replied. “Let’s move. We’ll shoot out the shuttle and take off; figure out our next step from there.” He waited for Theron to shut the shuttle door from the outside, then fell into step beside him as they walked back to the Shadow. They didn’t speak for the short, cold journey, both lost in their own thoughts. Theron, for his part, was too busy pondering their next moves. Didn’t Korin say he was working with one of the resistance cells in the Outer Rim? Reanden’s gotta know where he is. Hiding out on Tatooine won’t help us find a long-term cure for Xaja, but maybe it’ll give us a chance to- His eyes widened. I didn’t tell him about the carbonite poisoning. Kriff. Maybe it won’t-

The Shadow was a scene of chaos when the two spies reboarded. Reanden’s eyes narrowed as he hurried up the ramp, hand reaching for his blaster pistol. “What the hell’s going on? What -- Xaja?” Theron followed the older agent on board and felt his face drain of colour when he saw Xaja laying on one of the couches in the seating lounge, far too pale.

The Jedi turned her head at the sound of her father’s voice and gave both him and Theron a sheepish look. “Had another spasm,” she whispered. “Took out my entire leg.” Theron could sense how upset she was with this development and her embarrassment at everyone fussing over her. Fear lurked beneath it all.

“And there’s nothing in this medbay that -- oh, good, you got my bag.” Kimble stood up from where he’d been crouching by Xaja’s side and hurried over to take the rucksack from Reanden. “Those meds shouldn’t have worn off so fast,” he muttered as he hurried back over to his patient.

“What are you talking about?” Reanden sounded as anxious as an Imperial-trained spy could. “Shan, what did you not tell me?”

“Fierfek.” Theron shot the older spy a wary look. “I might’ve forgotten to mention that when I found Xaja, she was in carbonite. The Zaks karked up the carbonization process, and Kimble says it poisoned her.”

“All through her nervous system,” Kimble added as he started rifling through his medical gear. “You got anything in that medbay that’ll help with neurological damage, Lokin?”

“Neurological poisoning from carbonite?” Lokin poked his head out of the medbay and winced. “Oh, Master Jedi, you’re in for a world of hurt, my dear. Kimble, show me what you’ve got, we’ll figure something out.”

Reanden turned to glare at Theron. If looks could kill, the younger spy would have been a crispy pile of used-to-be-human on the floor of the Shadow. “You ‘might have forgotten’ to mention that she was carbonite poisoned? I might punch you after all, Shan.”

“Dad! No punching Theron!” Xaja started to sit up, until the second that Theron saw -- and strangely felt -- the dizzy spell hit her. She fell back against the couch as Kimble swore and Reanden ran to her side. “Please, don’t… no fighting…”

“Okay, baby girl. No fighting, I promise.” Reanden stroked Xaja’s hair even as his forehead creased with a worried frown. “SCORPIO,” he called out to the bridge. “Target the other shuttle until it’s a burned-out wreck, then get us off-world.”

“Understood, Agent,” spoke the feminine droid’s voice from the bridge. The Shadow lurched slightly as it rose up and came around. Theron heard the guns open fire and winced only a little bit as his shuttle was destroyed. SCORPIO emerged from the bridge and surveyed the gathering with what he could only describe as a condescending look.. “And where are we going from here?”

Reanden didn’t answer for a long moment, looking down at Xaja, then at Theron and Kimble. Theron could almost hear the gears turning madly in the older spy’s head until he finally spoke. “Imperial Space. Set course for Dromund Kaas. It’s the last place anyone will look for a Jedi or a Republic spy on the run.”