Memory / Chapter 17 / The Lady of Situations

XXX

The small ship coded in the Coruscanti landing registry as The Girl From Hoth landed at port 23, docking bay 12, groundside at precisely fourteen hundred hours, thirty minutes, local standard time.

Almost immediately, there was chaos.

XXX

13:00 CGST (Coruscanti Galactic Standard Time)

Thalia trotted behind Master Jopheena, trying to keep up with the old woman's long strides. Periodically, the Jedi would stop and wait for her with a serene face that belied the lines of tension in every part of her body. They did not speak; Jopheena had warned her to stay quiet. Thalia wasn't sure exactly what was going on -- ever since that hisspat Mekel had nearly killed Master Iridel she'd been running on autopilot to hide her grief -- but then this morning Jopheena had summoned her. They sat in the Jedi Master's meditation room for hours, while the woman scanned the nets. Then suddenly she'd jumped to her feet and told Thalia to follow her, stay close, and most importantly, not ask any questions.

The last part was easy. In some parts of the galaxy, not asking questions was a given.

They were almost to theJedi Temple's private hangar when Master Quatra's acidic voice called out behind them.

'Jopheena, where are you taking the Padawan?'

'To feed the poor,' Master Jopheena said. Thalia thought she was probably lying about that, but she did it very well.

Quatra's slanted eyes narrowed. 'That one is not to leave the Temple today. Nor are you. You know she is very close.'

Jopheena chuckled. 'Even she cannot stop the world from turning, Quatra. The people in the sublevels starve. They suffer. I will not cease my work to cower here with the rest of you . . . and Thalia needs to learn a valuable lesson. She still holds much anger for Mekel Jin. I want to show her more of the world that he came from. In such lessons comes understanding and compassion.'

'Does Iridel know you're taking her Padawan?'

'Of course,' Jopheena spread out her hands. 'Would you like to come with us Quatra? We could use your strength with the healing . . . '

Master Quatra looked uncertain, suddenly. 'I--would -- but -- I am not as brave as you, Jopheena. I will stay here and see what comes . . . letting go of hate is never easy, Padawan Thalia. I have had . . . my own troubles with that.'

Thalia looked at the floor. That was Juhani the Cathar's Master. Revan killed Juhani. Iridel said Quatra felt the death and didn't speak for days. But . . . she blames herself somehow. The guilt was like a mist, when she looked to see it, half-blinding the woman's senses to all else.

And that is fortunate, at the moment, however sad it may be. A voice cut into her thoughts. Now move faster, Thalia. Jopheena does not have time to wait for Padawans who fall behind.

Master Israel's voice in her head startled her. M-master? Already Jopheena was moving again. Thalia broke into a run to keep up. They reached the hangar where a number of ships waited. Jopheena headed straight for a planetside cruiser, a small one, and pulled the hatch down with practiced ease. Still not speaking, she nodded at Thalia.

Master? If Master Iridel had further wisdom, she did not share it.

They were speeding down one of the orbital freeways, heading down towards the groundside ports when Thalia finally dared to ask. 'We're not really going to feed the poor, are we?'

'It would be a good lesson for you, Thalia May. But no, we are not.' Jopheena laughed suddenly, a hearty burst of laughter that seemed so inappropriate coming from her lined face that Thalia nearly jumped out of her skin. 'Revan Starfire's ship is landing today. We're going to meet it.'

'You felt her, through the Force?' So it's today . . . It was the day Thalia had been expecting for weeks, the day that made her wake up screaming with nightmares no matter how much she meditated. She'd felt the woman's fall to darkness as if it were happening to her. Blood on the sand, and rage and hate more powerful than anything her old Sith Masters ever had. She'd expected to feel Revan through the Force when the Dark Lord landed on Coruscant. But Thalia felt nothing, the Force around them was still and calm, like a windless sea.

Jopheena shook her head. 'I expected to, but she's learned something. The Jedi Knight that Revan was shone through the Force like a sun. She never had to hide her presence. I doubt it ever occurred to her to do so. But now . . . I've had to use more commonplace methods to track her. I have friends in the CoruSec civilian guard. A squad has been sent to a certain port, a certain docking bay . . . and where the orders came from tell me much. Do not rely on the Force for everything, Thalia May. When you need it most, it will fail you.'

'We're going to help them take her into custody?' Thalia shivered. She remembered standing off against the woman and her companions in the shryack caves with 'Phile and Odoo. The woman's polite concern had been completely at odds with the whorl of dark energy that surrounded her. I don't want to face that again. I can't fight against that. She's too strong, too powerful. Too terrifying.

Jopheena shook her head. 'I hope it will not come to a confrontation, Padawan, for your sake and mine. But Vrook thinks . . . well, no matter. We're going to meet her ship to save lives. The CoruSec guards have orders to shoot to kill. We must not let that happen. The orders would be a death sentence--for the guards. Indeed, I believe that is the intent.'

'Why me?'

I asked her to bring you, Padawan. You will be my eyes. Consider it another lesson.

Iridel's voice was like a dry whisper in her thoughts.

Thalia wasn't sure what lesson this could be, but she didn't dare ask more questions. She'd asked enough as it was. Not asking questions was as easy as breathing for a child of Ziost, trained in Dreshdae.

XXX

14:00 CGST

The docking bay was still empty, and Captain Erik Qan'Jin tried to compose himself and think of something he could say to his squad before the end. Again he cursed the chain of events that led to this moment. You were worried about being shipped off to the Outer Rim, or a prison colony. But this . . . now, simply the loss of a home and a world seem like luxuries. He had no illusions. Whatever was going to land in this docking bay was meant to be their deaths. They'll send me to sub-level 60 in a Captain's Bars; my wife will get a Captain's pension. Only fifty credits more than a Commander's wife would get.

Half of the troops behind him still didn't understand. Cally had her usual moonstruck look, fidgeting importantly with the sights of her rifle. His eyes met a few of the others, those that remembered things as they'd been once before, and knew whose path they'd crossed that day. Liko gave him a resigned nod, his head tails curled tightly around his neck, and his jaw set for action.

'Our orders,' Captain Qan'Jin began, 'are to shoot whatever comes off that ship. To kill. I just want to let you all know that it's an honor working with you, and I'm proud, very proud of each and every one of you.' He paused. 'Are there any questions?'

If he didn't look at her, maybe she'd get the hint.

'Sir, yes sir. I have a question, sir.'

Of course not.

'Shut up, Cally,' Liko muttered, but even his automatic response seemed half-hearted.

'Permission to speak, sir?' She glared at the green twi'lek and then looked up the Captain.

'Go ahead, Cally.' Suddenly Erik was tired of all this formality. He relaxed his shoulders, trying to roll the tension out of his neck kink by kink.

'Sir, we're all good shots. We have good weapons. We were sent here by the Republic to do a job. Why are you all so certain that we'll fail?'

'Since we're about to die anyways, sir. I'd like to answer that question. Permission?' Liko stepped forward, and saluted him.

'Granted. Tell her Liko.' Erik's stomach rumbled and he felt queasy. The bantha bun I had for breakfast . . . and the caffa . . .

'The Girl From Hoth is entering final docking sequence,' chimed the docking computer. 'Five minutes to atmospheric entry, ten to landing.'The blast doors in front of them rumbled close, sealing with an ominous clang.

'Give her the short version,' Erik sighed. A sharp pain stabbed through his gut. Nerves or breakfast, it doesn't matter. There's no time left, tell my wife I love her very much, she knows . . .

'That day in the Library, that kid we found was Revan and Malak's son,' Liko began, 'and Malachi D'Reev's heir. You do understand one of those facts might be a closely guarded secret?'

A frown sketched across her simple Dantooine farm girl features. 'No,' Cally said. 'It's not the kid's fault who his parents are . . . '

'His grandfather is a very powerful man, you've heard of him, right?'

'Sure,' Cally shrugged. 'But Senators don't send people to their deaths . . . ' her voice trailed off. Green she was, but they'd been on Eg duty for six months now. ' . . . not without really good reasons! It's not like we'd betray him or anything . . . either of them! I mean, we all got promotions! Why would they kill us?'

Liko rolled his eyes. 'Since we're about to die I'd also like to say that I've always found your body attractive, Lieutenant Cally Lee. But not your mind.'

'No one will die here,' said a voice behind them. 'Put down your weapons.'

XXX

14:15 CGST

XXX

'Are you ready? It's almost time.'

'Yes.'

The robe was too short and tight across the shoulders, loose across the chest, tailored for a woman built to a different measure. The Star Forge robes were out of the question, and they'd needed the larger ones for the men. Their supplies included many weapons, but not much armor due to its bulk. The two sets of Mandalorian battle armor and Lin's own that they'd had were already reassembled. Revan adjusted the robe again, pulling the hood over her face. Between the hood and the bulky visor that hid her features she felt half-blind. She buckled her own saber to the belt, shivering a little as her fingers brushed its long hilt.

On Kashyyyk I vowed never to use it again. On Manaan I only had to carry it into the Sith Embassy. May this be the same. I don't want to use it. I don't want to use it ever again for anything more than a prop.

'Now, Revan?' Oerin Lin was being frighteningly solicitous, which meant that he was furious. She'd learned to read him some, over the past few weeks. There was an old scorch mark on the beige robe that he wore. The sight of it made her dizzy.

Canderous cleared his throat and stubbed out the cigarra he'd been smoking on the corusteel floor. 'It's time."

There was something heavy in the pocket of Bastila's old robe. Revan pulled it out.

The holocron sparkled, bright as brittle tears.

XXX

14:20 CGST

XXX

'I didn't think you'd come.' She took another drink, tension easing slightly as the comforting harshness burned the back of her throat. 'I didn't think you'd care, about a woman's problems, or a woman's grief. You must be very busy now; I can't turn on the vids without seeing your picture everywhere.'

The man slipped onto the bar stool next to her, and sat down, hands resting uselessly on its scarred surface. Well-shaped hands that were made for action, not for this. 'You were ill. Are you better now?' He looked at her, and she tried not to think about what he'd see. Her once-beautiful face, ravaged by the years, too-bright suns, the stims, the cigarras and the drink. She looked at his hands. They were strong capable hands. Square-fingered, and neatly kempt. His life would be like that too. You could tell a great deal about a man by looking at his hands. She really wasn't much older than he was . . . perhaps five years, perhaps seven. She'd been very young when her daughter was born. Too young really, for all of that responsibility.

'My health has always been poor,' she said finally. 'And my nerves are very bad.'

'Juma won't help with that,' the man muttered, signaling to the bartender.

He ordered Degoban whiskey and drank it down fast.

'I didn't think you'd come,' she repeated. 'You never really liked my daughter, did you?'

His voice caught. 'It wasn't--I liked her. She was . . . she was a good person. We were friends.'

'But not lovers. Have you ever thought, you picked the wrong woman to save that day? Perhaps you just picked the wrong woman to love?'

The muscles in his jaw twitched underneath his visor, but he did not respond.

Helena Shan took another sip of juma.

'What is it that you need?' he asked her. His assured voice suddenly roughened with a touching vulnerability. She couldn't see much of his face through the dark ferraglass, but she suspected his eyes would be glistening. They were brown eyes, she remembered. How sweet, she'd made a war hero cry. 'Is it credits? Doctors? Just a place to go? Or just more juma to finish killing yourself?' He brought his fist angrily down on the bar and several patrons around them jumped. 'Whatever you want, Helena. I owe it to you. I owe it to Bastila.'

'I want to know what happened to her,' she said quietly, finally, when it seemed like his rant was finished.

'She died,' the pilot whispered. 'She died.'

'Did you think she was attractive? When she was young, people used to say she looked just like me, I was quite a beauty in my youth . . . but she threw all that advantage away when she joined the Jedi. Did you ever think about her, watch her, notice her? I remember that woman; she was a stick next to Bastie. Loud and careless and uncouth. I don't know what you--I don't know why . . . ' It was terribly awkward, but she found that she was crying suddenly. The dimly lit cantina room blurred and she rummaged through her purse for her handkerchief. When she pulled it out a few stims fell on the floor and rolled under the bar. The man got up hastily and fished for them. Helena Shan watched him, delicately dabbing the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief.

He got up slowly, eyeing the stim caps rolling in his hand. Wordlessly he handed them back.

'You don't own the market on grief.' His words were accusing. 'Your loss is terrible, Helena Shan, and I'll help you any way that I can, but what you're doing now is worse. Do you think Bastila would want to see you like this?'

'It's how she'd remember me best,' Helena Shan said. The words were bitter in her mouth, but she was used to that.

'Nine hells . . . .When I think of a world that took a mother like Morgana and left you alive.'

Helena Shan took another sip of juma. As always, it helped with her nerves. Her nerves were very bad. The light above the bar was one of the old ones, Byss ironwork. She blinked at it blurrily. Byss had been a lovely planet to visit. She and her husband had quite enjoyed their time there, although the child had complained often. It was shortly after that that they'd sent her away to school . . .

When she looked at the barstool next to her again, it was empty. The pilot had gone.

XXX

---

14:29 CGST

The Girl From Hoth was many things. Iggis leased it for transport from its rightful owners, an organization so shadowy that he dared not say its name out loud, although in his line of work he couldn't help but know it. But its latest cargo, if the Underground scientists that hired him could be believed, would simultaneously save the galaxy from the crippling kolto shortage and make him a very rich Hutt. When he'd been little more than a tad swimming in the sunken city marshes of Nal Hutta, Iggis had always hoped for a great destiny. Now, it was in his grasp.

The landing bays around them bustled with activity. Iggis pushed the levers to move his grav lift into third gear, and patted his latest acquisition, a young twi'lek he'd named Mara, on the head. Obediently, she settled herself up against him on the lift.

A group of portside guards and two robed figures stood at the blast doors that would remain closed until the Girl's jets cooled. He frowned at the sight of them. Customs could be trouble, and Hulas had promised him weeks ago that there would be no trouble. Their captain appeared to be arguing with one of the robes -- his eyesight wasn't the best but as he got closer he could see -- Jedi. And--actually, the guards didn't look like customs guards at all. A CoruSec civilian squad. Why would they be here?

Iggis tapped the commands on his console to fire if provoked and set up the shield. Mara drew hastily closer to him, her soft skin smooth on his hide. She learned quickly. In his line of work, there was often trouble.

XXX

14:29 CGST

-- Keep that robe over your head. And stop fidgeting. --

'I am not fidgeting,' Mekel hissed.

Millifar chuckled and he blushed, which was not an improvement. 'Talking to your gods again, barbarian? The voices in your head?'

'Leave me alone,' Mekel muttered, to both of them. Dustil's absence still ached like a pulled tooth, a phantom pain that should have been long gone.

'Your master will reward you well, for bringing us the news, yes?' The blonde Mandalorian grinned at him, making dimples in both sides of her cheeks. 'It's an auspicious day for the Mandalore's arrival, I can't wait to meet him . . . I hear he's unmarried . . . '

'It isn't seemly to discuss your bridal prospects with a man outside your clan, Millifar.' Her mother Gwenarius shot them both an amused look.

'Mekel's not really a man, Mother . . . he's one of the Lin slaves . . . '

-- Don't open your mouth and say anything, Mekel Jin. Just . . . don't. --

Gwenarius Ordo broke into a stream of incomprehensible Mandalorian and her daughter replied in kind. Both of them started laughing, laughter echoed by Mission's collar grating on his spine. Mekel wondered again why he'd insisted on coming along for the ride. They hadn't wanted him to, Mission hadn't wanted him to, but he'd been stubborn. Behind him, the three half-blooded warriors, (half-blooded meant they'd only killed in the battle of sand--whatever that meant--not that they were half-Mandalorian--and how amused everyone had been when he'd made that gaffe two nights ago . . . ), tramped steadily in full regalia, bristling with weapons. No one was expecting a fight, but the general mood seemed to be that battle wouldn't be unwelcome.

-- You stupid nerf-eating idiot boy. --

'Hey! What was that for?'

--What was what for?--

'That insult,' Mekel whispered. The collar thrummed against the back of his neck.

-- Do I need a reason? --

'Generally, not, Blue . . . '

He'd started calling her Blue. It was what Dustil called her. And it was safer than calling her by name. Although rationally Mekel knew he was talking to a computer, Mission was like no computer he'd ever known. Except for a few errands she'd sent him on, they'd been laying low these past days -- surrounded by a bunch of Mandalorian mercs who called themselves an embassy and constantly chattered in a language that he couldn't understand. Mission was his only link to the outside world. And once she'd been a street kid too. There were realities she understood that Dustil never really had.

-- Sheesh, this is important Mekel Jin, pay attention please. And don't die. If they start fighting or something just run away, ok? --

"Sweet of you to care." Mission didn't answer. Probably caught up in whatever else she was doing. She hadn't clued him on the big plan, but he'd picked up pieces here and there. Revan was coming. For the kid and her lover and Dustil. The mercs seemed to be expecting something quite different, some kind of leader -- or savior, depending on which one you talked to. They'd clued in pretty quickly that he didn't understand the Mandalorian words he'd said to them, and after that they stopped even trying to explain. Whatever the plan was, it was better than rotting in the underground hiding out from the Jedi -- and someone had to get Dustil out of this mess. Although Mekel didn't want to admit it to himself, he wanted to see the kid too. Malachor. He wanted to see the kid because -- because I want to see Him.

They reached the docking bay. Docking bay 10, port 23. The blast doors were still closed, although the ship they'd come to meet had docked ten minutes ago.

XXX

14:30

The blast doors to port 23, docking bay 12 slid open. The ship's ramp was already down and a red-haired figure emerged wearing a long black robe. She was accompanied by what appeared to be some kind of protocol droid. One look at her and Captain Erik knew with sad certainty what his fate was to be. The Jedi could protest all that they liked, but this was her. And he and his men would be her first sacrifice of Republic blood on Coruscanti soil.

Unless we kill her first . . . it was her. Revan Starfire. This would be a good way to die.

He raised his rifle and closed his eyes.

Tell my wife I love her very much . . .

"No. Put down your weapons." He heard the clatter of their rifles and blasters falling to the ground around him, as his men were caught again in the old witch's spell.

He'd been Special Forces once, in the Mandalorian Wars, before insubordination cost him a few ranks and a grenade landed him a desk job. Working around Jedi--especially there towards the end when all the Jedi went mad -- there were things you learned to do. If you had a talent for it -- and he did -- and if you were expecting it -- and he was -- you could resist those mind tricks they played. It had been a long time since that skill had done any good, but it did now.

He had her in his sights. All it would take was one shot.

"Put it down, Captain." The old Jedi's voice was softer now. A request, not a command. "That isn't her," the Jedi said. "That's not Revan Starfire." She sounded so convinced that he lowered the gun.

"I don't . . . " his voice trailed off. "I don't want to die today."

"No one will die today," the woman said softly, almost hypnotically, and he wondered if this was some strange Force compulsion after all. Her eyes were a washed-out blue, like the Coruscanti sky in the two-week spring when the clouds vanished. Her face was creased with lines and her hair was gray and cropped.

The woman that wasn't Revan and her droid walked down the ramp to meet them.

"We have to die today," Erik said stupidly. "Because we know about . . . "

Malachor. The Eg's name was Malachor but to Erik that word would never be a name. Malachor was the end. Malachor was where the whole mess finally fell apart. Malachor V. Her orders. He hadn't been there of course, but neither had she. There weren't many people that had been there still alive . . . and not very many people knew the truth. It was the Fleet's little secret, the one that no one spoke of.

Some things are too terrible to speak of.

And she gave the orders.

"Captain . . . " the Jedi was talking to him again and he was startled to see a tear in her eye. She shook her head slowly. "That isn't her, Captain. Put down your weapon and find peace. That isn't her."

"What the frack is going on?"

"Shut up, Cally," Erik murmured, staring out at the hanger bay. Almost absently, he lowered his gun.

The woman reached them. Her face was marked with a thin tracery of black lines, rayed out from her eyes. It was Darth Revan's face.

"That is not my ship," rumbled a voice behind them. Erik turned to see a Hutt on a grav lift, the traditional twi'lek chained to his side. Lido muttered something and spat on the ground. "Where is my Girl From Hoth? She's supposed to be docking here . . . "

The smaller Jedi, the apprentice, was nearly as wide-eyed and hapless-looking as Cally. She shook her head, restless.

"M-master Jopheena?"

"Yes, Thalia?"

"Mekel . . . he's close. Really close. I think . . . " Her brown-skinned face bent in a frown of concentration. "But also, there are more people coming . . . "

The woman who looked like Darth Revan had reached them. "What I asked for," she said, words ringing out like a bell, "were a decent stylist and some holo photographers, as well as a masseuse for the in-flight ride to my hotel. What you've given me are . . . " her eyes scanned them all incredulously. " . . . two Jedi, a pack of CoruSec civvie guards and . . . a Hutt? And a Hutt's slave," she added. "I hate slavery. It's very distasteful to me. For this I had surgery? Do you realize that I've been waiting on ground clearance to land for three days now? If Senator D'Reev thinks I'm going to stand for this . . . "

"Recommendation: Mistress, we need to contact Juut and demand better terms on the contract. This type of excitement is not good for your delicate nerves." The protocol droid's voice dripped artificial concern.

"Indeed it's not!" The woman rolled her green eyes at them all. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"People are coming," whispered the younger Jedi. She seemed barely out of her tweens, if that. "Lots of them. Fleet I think."

"Most certainly Fleet," said the older. "I'm not a bit surprised. I'm not the only one with friends in the Civilian Guard. Three different branches at least. Fleet factions make the Jedi Council look united."

"I demand to know where my ship is," rumbled the Hutt. "I have all the proper permits, The Girl from Hoth, from Manaan. I'm a law-abiding citizen."

The old Jedi laughed in a manner that was disturbingly un-jedi-like. "From Manaan? I wouldn't look right now, if I were you . . . "

Captain Erik Qan'Jin found his voice at last. "You're an actress," he said to the woman. "Of course, you're an actress . . . "

His gut twisted. Did D'Reev send us here to kill an actress or die trying to kill the real Darth Revan?

Either way, D'Reev will find some other way to kill us. Stang, he'll blame this on us too somehow. Bloody kid. Bloody Revan. Bloody stinking D'Reevs . . .

"An actress?" the woman sounded shocked. She threw a hand across her brow, a gesture he'd never seen in real life. "I'm Seriina Starr, you imbecile. Where is my masseuse? My stylist? The holo-cams? Did I mention I've been orbiting Coruscant for three days? The landing computer kept insisting that I didn't have the proper docking permits!"

The Captain tried to regain control of the situation. The Hutt was still mumbling his outrage, but quietly--he doesn't want trouble, that one, show me a Hutt that ever has wanted trouble, or not been wallowing in it.

"They're coming . . . " Thalia intoned. Her eyes were glassy, like some oracle from Dathomir.

The old Jedi looked amused. "I'd give my 'saber to know how she arranged this," she murmured. She shot Eric a complicit glance, as if this was all some kind of cosmic joke. "Captain . . . " Seriina Starr was demanding to speak to someone on her holocomm in ringing imperious tones. The old Jedi's eyes scanned his face. "I sense a great sadness within you. Come speak with me at the Temple sometime. Perhaps we should talk."

"Y-yes," he nodded. His head hurt and his gut ached.

"Revan Starfire!" called a voice from down the corridor, "Surrender yourself to Naval Custody, Citizen. By High Admiral Rensha's command!"

The red-haired woman looked terrified and furious. "What is the meaning of this?"

"We have you surrounded, Revan Starfire!" called another voice. There was the sound of several blasters clicking into readiness.

We're going to die caught in the crossfire with some ancient floozy actress from a holovid. Why don't the Jedi . . . ?

"I really don't understand!"

"Shut up, Cally."

"I am NOT Revan Starfire!" Old as the Reef, and probably as full of silicate as a Thranari, Seriina Starr still had a powerful set of lungs. Her voice boomed across the hangar. She waved her arms helplessly as the Fleet troops -- crack special operations experts by the look -- encircled them all.

The Captain opened his mouth to say something else to the Jedi but they were gone. How do Jedi do that? How do they just vanish into thin air?

Stealth belts, the practical side of him thought. Jedi aren't above using a scoundrel's tricks.

He waved a hand at the Fleet troops and their commander saluted him. Erik sighed and turned back to his men. "Since we're all still alive. I suggest we move back to base."

"Thanks for holding her down, Captain," one of special ops team called out.

Yeah, no problem. Seriina Starr is a real threat to the galaxy.

Portside was hopping with activity. The actress's ship hadn't been the only one delayed. The landing grids screwed up all the time, but usually they weren't quite this bad. They passed two more squads of Fleet, the Aldaraanian ambassador, a herd of Ithorians involved in some kind of quarantine dispute and three more sets of brown robes. One odd thing stuck in his mind. Later, when Erik told his wife the story -- when it was . . . safe . . . to tell his wife the story, he made sure to mention it. One of the flocks of Jedi was walking with a large heavily armed band of Mandalorians.

Still, it could have been a coincidence. All sorts of strange combinations wash up on the shores of the Reef.

XXX

14:35 CGST

The blast doors opened, and their escort stood on the other side. Revan kept her head low, flanking the towering figure dressed in battered silver and blue armor, patched and soldered in many places, as if scorched by some terrible war.

Or a very patient wookiee with a laser torch.

Canderous hung back, she could feel him at her back with something that wasn't the Force, just the awareness of someone who had always been at her back, and always would be. Thank you for doing this Cand'. Revan didn't expect this reunion to be easy on him. One of the Clans here on Coruscant was Ordo, and ever since Mission had told them the name of the woman who led them, her warrior had grown very quiet. She did not ask him about it, if he wanted to tell her he would.

Lin was on the other side of the armor -- of Zaal'. He was going to do most of the talking, at least at first. The initial ruse was important, if they wanted to get Zaalbar through port security. There were more holes in this plan than an eridu blanket ravaged by moths, but she hoped they'd get through. Somehow.

HK trailed behind, clanking slightly in his patched-together disguise. She'd turned his voder back on, after giving him strict instructions not to use it except for the express purpose for which he'd been instructed. Zaal's Mandalorian really wasn't very good, and under the circumstances . . . well it would look strange if there were things he did not understand. Her assassin droid's translation of Mandalorian into Shyriiwook went on in the background, a dull drone that sounded like almost nothing to human ears, unless you knew what to listen for.

Revan took a deep breath. Air and space oil and that peculiar smell that was uniquely Coruscant: rotting metal and mildew tinged with ozone and the scent of rain. She'd been fourteen when she first--came here. The memory came so naturally she almost jumped out of her skin.

I was fourteen, and Mal brought me home with him. Home to meet his father. And we went to the Temple and there was a party in the D'Reev ballroom, we were the guests of honor and there was the clink of glasses and the murmur of soft conversation and we danced until the old man called us over and he asked me, he asked me --

Her step faltered.

I was fourteen and I snuck out of the house with my cousin Sara, and we went to the cantina. We drank fizz-pop and pretended it was whiskey. There were pilots there and then cousin Beya saw us and she was older, she was eighteen and she called Ma and I was grounded for a week and I was fourteen and I used to race my glider in the canyon I wanted to grow up to be a pilot and I did and I crashed my glider in the canyon wall--

I was fourteen and I wanted to be a Jedi Knight.

I was fourteen and I wanted to be a star pilot.

You're losing it, Rev. Oerin's voice brushed against her mind, soft as a feather. Reflexively she reached out with the Force for him, like an arm to steady herself. And for a brief second, there was something -- someone reaching back like a hand clasped in hers -- and then Lin slammed her back into her mind so hard that she saw stars. Revan staggered and almost fell down.

"Don't," he said out loud. "Not now. My apologies, Mother Ordo," he continued smoothly in Mandalorian. "My Jedi Master is ill."

"She does look frail," the woman answered him, pulling back her own hood to reveal a sun-lined face grown pale under Coruscant clouds and silvering yellow hair coiled in braids. A beautiful face, the lines only enhanced the strength of her features.

"Hail Mandalore," chimed the three warriors in battle armor. They spoke in unison, as if they'd rehearsed it. The girl and the boy dressed in plain hooded robes moved aside. The girl in one smooth movement, and the boy a little more hesitantly. The boy was wearing black goggles over his eyes, but Revan recognized him, with a sinking sensation of guilt.

Mekel, that's Mekel. That's Mekel Jin . . .

Of all of them, Mekel was the only one staring at her and not at the towering suit of armor that concealed a three-meter high Wookiee.

The Mandalorians all knelt in unison before the towering suit of armor.

"We will have more time for ceremony back at the Embassy," Oerin said smoothly. "Perhaps you could show us to your transport now? I sense a great disturbance in the Force nearby."

How does he do that? Does he really or is that a bluff? Her skin prickled and she squelched the urge to reach out and check. Revan couldn't sense anything at all, not and hide herself at the same time.

"Jedi near here," Mekel muttered in Basic. "Troops too, I think. Hell and Thalia bloody May." He frowned and shook his head, shivering. "We didn't need a distraction," he whispered. "Why'd you have to be so dramatic, Blue?"

"Your slave talks to his gods frequently," the golden-haired girl said, grinning archly at the towering silver suit of armor. "Is he mad?"

HK droned a series of soft growls and the towering silver armor made a noncommittal gesture.

"The lad is Force-touched," Oerin shrugged. "We do need to leave."

Somewhere not far away a woman was screaming something, it sounded like . . .

" . . . NOT Revan Starfire!"

I will not react to that. I will not wonder who that is. We need to get out of here . . . Mekel can talk to Mission. The collar. Is that woman her distraction? Bloody hell, fracking hell, what the hell did she do?

Canderous was being so carefully silent that it worried her. Revan glanced back. The mask hid his face, and Jolee's old robe covered the rest of him . . . mostly. The arms were too short, and the leggings were a little . . . too tight. Actually he looked ridiculous with a battered lightsaber dangling from his belt instead his swords and his rifle. Their luggage transport -- belatedly she noticed the script that read "Property of Ahto City Port Authority" stamped on the side -- hovered obediently behind them all, piled high with the rest of their possessions -- weapons -- like a faithful kath hound.

"Why does the Mandalore let Jedi speak for him?" the older woman asked, ignoring the commotion off in the halls. "A set of armor does not rule us. If this is a trick . . . " Her hands went to the hilts of her swords.

The Mandalorian girl frowned and looked down the long corridor that led to the other docking bays. From that direction came running feet and more shouts. The warriors seemed restless, hands on their blasters.

We need to get out of here. Now.

Revan swallowed hard and stepped forward. Until the words came out of her mouth, she had no idea what she was going to say.

XXX

---

14:33 CGST The Eglatine Institute

'How many votes are required to place a motion before the Galactic Senate?' Teacher Biny's voice sounded like a broken motor engine. Korrie slumped further down in his chair, so the Althirian wouldn't call on him. He stared at the cracked surface of his desk. It was very old, like everything else in the Institute. Someone had carved an 'M' on it a long time ago. He liked to sit here because of that. He liked to pretend that Father carved it when he was a little boy. Father said he didn't remember, but Korrie liked to think it might be true.

Father wasn't here right now. He was almost never here at school. Only when Korrie got into trouble. Or once, when Thrap Mik'alan started teasing him and they had a fight and they both got detenshun. Father came and sat with him in the little round room and told him stories about the pranks he'd played when he was a boy. Before Father's mother died and the Jedi took him away because he had the Force.

'Eglatine Phin.' Isabait Phin lowered her hand and sat up very straight, proud to be called on. She was sort of a dimbulb, the Phin family was pretty inbred. Grandfather said that was bad, he thought most of the Senate families were all maffasomethings. That meant weak.

'Five,' Isabait simpered. 'Five votes.'

'And how many to pass the motion?'

The class was silent. Half of them weren't paying attention anyways. Leeshy poked him under the table, and Korrie grinned at her. Father said don't be sad and pretend everything was fine so he was trying to do that. Seventy-three. It was a funny number, once it had been half the number of planets in the Republic or something. Korrie wasn't sure if it still was. The number of planets in the Republic changed a lot.

'Eglatine Makeon?'

'Lots,' Angis Makeon said. 'Seventy-three. My father says that's why we never get anything done . . . '

'Without the commentary, please. Next question, how many -- '

The air smelled like spaceships and there were people in armor and robes and for a second her hand closed around his and he looked up and she was wearing brown and something that covered most of her face and Korrie took her hand and --

Something slammed in his head so hard he felt stars.

Korrie was on the floor. Something tasted salty in his mouth. Blood. He'd bitten his tongue. 'Eglatine D'Reev?' Two of the security guards from the door helped him get up again.

Father said don't do anything unusual, Father said, you are not going to sneak off and meet her, Father said, pretend that everything is okay. But Father hadn't said what to do about this. Korrie's legs felt bendy; like he wasn't sure he could stand up on them.

'Mother,' he whispered. Father said you are not going to sneak off and meet her, but Father was dead and she was here. Angis giggled. One of the guards gasped and pulled his hand away from Korrie like he was scared. Korrie looked up at them. He bit his lip so he wouldn't say anything else.

Teacher Biny was frowning. 'Infirmary,' he told the guards. The Egs always had to go to the infirmary every time anything happened, even if it was just a stubbed toe.

XXX

"By sand, by air and by stars, please, Mother Ordo. I seek the protection of your tent in a time of great trouble. In the name of the old ways, in the name of women's ways. Please." Revan spoke before she thought, the words coming from some place that she could not remember.

Behind her, Canderous grunted something that sounded like approval.

Mother Ordo's mouth twisted. "Whose tent sheltered you, daughter of sand, air and stars?" Her voice was acid, as if she did not expect the proper response.

"Clan Lin," Revan said quietly. "By the blood of my son, pledged to yours. May they -- may they --" I can't remember . . .

Oerin Lin broke in and finished the formal phrase for her. "May they win many battles. May they be blooded against our enemies, may they return to our clans and father many daughters to continue the line."

"There is no Clan Lin, its blood was spilled and trampled in the sand." The woman did not back down. "This is some kind of Jedi trick." Behind her, the warriors muttered and the blonde girl glared. "We may be a beaten people but we are not fools, Jedi. Your emissaries' instructions were suspicious from the start. Bringing us the Mandalore? Instructing us to court favor with the Coruscanti vermin?" She spat on the ground. "We play their hellspawned games only as much as it serves us, and Mandalorians do not serve Jedi!"

"We do have the Mandalore -- and his armor -- Gwen." Canderous stepped forward and took the woman's hand. "Let's get out of this maffa-stinking hellhole and I'll explain."

At the sound of that gravel-rain voice, all of the Mandalorians froze. The warriors' hands went to their blasters, until one glance from the younger woman stopped them. The older woman -- Gwen -- began to laugh, and to move, very quickly. She waved a hand and they all trooped behind, followed by the luggage carrier.

"You're going to have much explaining to do, Canderous Ordo."

"I'll explain everything, when we get out of here, Gwen . . . "

"We have a new daughter," she added, almost conversationally.

Canderous did not break step. "I am pleased for the continuation of our clan. Has she been named?"

"Not yet. And Aemelie bore a son."

"A double blessing." Her warrior's voice was gruff, with an emotion she couldn't read. Revan frowned at his back, worrying. This is Canderous' clan. What does that mean?

A squad of Fleet soldiers marched past them, and they all edged to the side. They surrounded a red-haired woman dressed in black robes and a shrieking protocol droid. Her face was . . . mine. My face.

"I tell you this is a mistake! I know Senator D'Reev personally! When my agent hears about this . . . "

I'm not even going to be curious. But later, I am going to get very angry at Mission. We needed a distraction . . . but did she have to find another version of Darth Revan? And where did she?

They passed a few squads of Fleet, heavily armed, and one troop of civilian guards, as well as a mass of confused travelers from a hundred different worlds. There had been, Revan gathered from the snatches of conversation, landing delays due to grid failure all over the port. How convenient.

The hallway wound around a featureless stretch of gray durasteel. Her legs felt oddly light. The Hoth's gravity had been stronger -- not much -- but just enough to throw her off-kilter. A temporary signboard next to an archway scrolled a message in blue Basic script.

Due to unusually heavy traffic, all customs clearance is at the main desk. Please have your docking clearances and citizenship chips ready.

Words chimed the same message overhead, in Basic, Twi'leki, Rodian, Aqualish, and a dozen other languages.

Mekel's hand brushed her arm. Revan flinched, her artificial calm broken so easily. "Thalia's confused," he muttered. "And behind us."

Thalia May, the leader of the rebel students in the shryack caves . . . why is that important? Why is she here?

"Don't even think of it," Oerin Lin said softly from her other side. He said the words before she even did think of it, think of reaching for the Force.

"Delays," Revan mumbled. She felt ready to jump out of her skin.

"You can blame Blue." Mekel whispered back. "She thought this was all a good idea."

"Stop using the Force, boy," hissed Oerin. "You're almost as bad as she is."

"I know how to hide," Mekel shot back. "And who the hell are you?"

Oerin Lin chuckled under the folds of his robe. "I'm special."

"Later," Revan snapped.

XXX

The guards took him to the infirmary. There were lots of guards around him today. More than regular, and Grandfather always had lots.

'I'm fine,' Korrie insisted. 'Honest!'

'The Senator wanted to be notified if the boy did anything unusual . . . ' one of them muttered.

'And that's new?'

'Today, especially, he said.'

'Why today?'

'Well, you've heard the rumors . . . '

Father said be very careful. Father said look stupid so that they talk in front of you. Father said cry in front of Grandfather because he can't stand it. Father said she'd come and take him back. Father said maybe Captain Onasi and Dustil weren't going to help them after all. Father said Dustil was dangerous and he was sorry about that. Sorry about something. Father was trying to reach her but he couldn't. Father said be very brave and I'll keep you safe.

Korrie was sick of being brave. His plan had been better. Father said don't sneak off and meet her, but Father was dead and she was here. He stopped walking. 'No,' he said.

'Don't do this, Mal.'

Father was taller and stronger than any of the guards. His black cape billowed around him and he had his scary Sith face, the one that didn't scare Korrie because that was how Father was supposed to look.

'I just want to see her!' Korrie wailed.

'Oh hell,' one of the guards said. She was standing where Father was standing, so that they sort of melted together, but she couldn't see him. If she could see him, she'd let him go, Korrie was sure. Nobody messed with Father, back when he was alive.

Korrie crossed his arms like Father was doing and glared back at him. The guards weren't important they were just men who worked for Grandfather. They were going to tell Grandfather and then he was going to be in trouble and he'd never get to see her. 'I don't care!' Korrie screamed, loud as he could. 'I want to see her! She's here! My mother's here!'

One of the guards was saying really bad words. Another one put his hand on Korrie's shoulder like he was afraid Korrie would bite him. 'Come on, kid.' he said gently. 'We'll take you to Nurse Gin and she'll make it all better.'

'Do we -- do we have to give a full report?' Another guard sounded really scared. Scared of Grandfather because no one was ever supposed to talk about who Korrie's parents were or what happened to them or why they went all evil and went away from him.

'Make them take me to her,' Korrie said, crying. 'Father, make them!'

'Father?'

'The kid's nuts. I mean, all things considered, is that surprising?'

'Malachor . . . ' Father came to him, and for a second he could almost feel Father's arms hugging him, as he bent down and placed his arms around Korrie. 'Be very brave, I promise she'll come . . . I promise.'

'Can you see her? Can you talk to her? When am I gonna see her, when?'

'Who's her?' someone muttered.

'Who do you fracking think?' someone else said back.

'It's true? the kid's really . . . theirs?' The guards were whispering.

They always whispered around him, they always had ever since he could remember. Everyone. Sometimes Korrie thought it was because he was special, but other times he thought it was because his parents had done something bad or because everyone was scared of Grandfather. 'I want my Mother!' he said out loud.

Nurse Gin was coming down the hall now. Normally he liked her, but today was different. She had a dermpack in her hand, like the ones Ache Kay made him take because Grandfather said he had to when he felt her being bad and it would make him go to sleep and he didn't want to go to sleep.

'Malachor, stop it!' Father's eyes were very mean, like he was trying to scare Korrie.

'No!' Korrie was sick of being brave. None of Father's ideas had worked out. Dustil and Captain Onasi were mad at his mother and they weren't going to help. If he had something like the Force everyone would have to do what he said, but he didn't and no one was listening and no one cared.

Nurse Gin smelled like mints and antiseptik like she always did. She pushed up the sleeve of his robe and pressed the derm on it before he could stop her. The world was getting very small and fuzzy very fast. Father was sitting on the ground next to him. 'She won't talk to me,' Father said. 'Mal, I'm trying to reach her, but she's shut me out.'

'Make her hear us,' Korrie said. 'Make her hear us!'

Then the derm worked and the world went out.

XXX

They came to a large room filled with sentients. They were not the only ones in armor, or the only ones hooded and masked. They weren't even, Revan noticed with a chill, the only Jedi. Which is good, because we won't stand out, and bad because . . . if they look at us too carefully they might . . . There was a rambling line that curled around itself, and the babble of a hundred different languages. Most sounded completely outraged. At the end of the room, one exhausted-looking uniformed Rodian was trying to process the mob through customs. One sentient at a time.

Canderous had been talking softly to Gwen while the blonde girl rather pointedly ignored him. Gwen nodded at something and then glanced back at the rest of them, her eyes going straight for Revan's. Her expression was cold and furious and she spoke in Mandalorian.

"I warn you, Jedi--if you play us false, we will settle this in the Coruscanti fashion, and not with the more honorable ways. Don't think I can't guess who Canderous brings to our tent. Everyone in the galaxy knows the name of my husband's female companion . . . "

Husband? Revan met the woman's gaze steadily through the comforting barricade of her visor. "We're not -- companions . . . " She wasn't sure what the woman meant. Was it jealousy? "Canderous and I aren't . . . " she began again, stuttering.

Gwen spat on the ground and turned back to Canderous. His mask hid his expression completely and he turned his back on all of them with slow deliberate grace.

Oerin laughed softly and poked her elbow. "Bloody barbarians . . . " He chuckled. "She's not jealous--I'd expect she just doesn't like you for being you . . . "

Canderous never mentioned any family, only his clan. Will this change anything? Is he -- okay? Is this an advantage? The woman mentioned a new daughter--but it can't be his . . . I don't understand . . . Revan could tell nothing from the set of his shoulders.

They'd joined the line now, and Revan moved back to the luggage carrier, Oerin and Mekel at her heels, sitting down on it carefully so that her legs obscured the Selkath script. The three warriors in Mandalorian battle armor moved in front of her, following Zaalbar and HK.

There was a commotion at the front of the line where a Trandoshan was arguing with a security team. His companions, two masked humanids and a Wookiee, were being retinally scanned. The Wookiee's coat was dull and matted. He was in chains.

Getting any Wookiee through customs on this day wouldn't be easy. Which is only one reason we can't afford to risk going through customs . . .

The Wookiee was in chains. Revan put her hand lightly on Zaalbar's arm. He stood directly in front of her, a silent towering figure. She wished there was something she could do . . . or at least say to him.

There was a time when I would have just cut a swathe. That's what I did on Kashyyyk to the Czerka . . .

"Blue says wait for it," whispered Mekel in Basic. He looked at her and bit his lip, then looked away again. "Soon . . . "

Behind them voices were demanding diplomatic processing in patrician Alderaanian tones.

Canderous reached out a hand to the Mandalorian girl. She pulled away from him and joined the rest of them at the luggage transport. Her face was twisted and sullen.

The girl was maybe sixteen or seventeen standard. She had Canderous' eyes, like chips of gray-blue ice. And she was glaring at Revan. "I almost hope you're lying about the Mandalore," she hissed. "It would be a pleasure to throw you to the Coruscanti dogs."

"We're not lying," Revan said. "I would not lie to a Mandalorian about such things. Nor would your fa--" she hesitated, not sure if she could offend the girl more, not even sure if her conclusion was correct, or what it meant, in their culture. I should know this, why didn't I ask Lin and Cand' more questions? Why can't I remember something useful?

A mechanical voice crackled over the comm.

"All sentients with diplomatic standing please proceed to room 43 for clearance. We hope that this will help alleviate the congestion."

The outraged Alderaanians behind them stopped in mid-rant.

"That's us," Mekel murmured, standing up. They and several other large groups of richly-dressed sentients split from the line. A side door slid open. Inside, a more lavishly appointed room, another desk, another uniformed Rodian. To his left, an open gate and beyond that a black plain and a slice of pale Coruscanti sky, the color of milk.

Diplomats don't have to be screened with the same thoroughness. They can't risk offending them by making them wait through a retinal check and a luggage search . . .

Revan kept herself warily next to the luggage transport, wondering if doing so was like painting a huge target sign on it, or if she was in fact obscuring its origin. Their ship's false registry codes were from Endar, not Manaan; and beneath the Selkath script, the words 'Property of Ahto City' were also stamped in Basic. HK had taken up his position on top of it and temporarily powered down, just another piece of machinery amidst a stack of crates and containers. Zaalbar moved to the front, standing with the others in battle armor. If he hadn't been a meter taller than them, and if his armor wasn't a patchwork of blue and silver, his mask a curious and very ancient design, he might have blended in. Still, in a room full of sentients from a hundred worlds and cultures, he didn't exactly stand out either. Canderous and Gwen were still whispering furiously in Mandalorian near the front of the line. Mekel stood in front of Revan, keeping his head down, shoulders hunched. Oerin Lin had taken the blond girl's arm and seemed to be talking to her in Mandalorian about the Jedi Code.

I'm glad he knows it, since he's supposed to be one . . .

"There is no passion, there is serenity," Oerin began. "Many scholars have discussed these words, and their possible interpretations. "Is it base physical desire they eschew in favor of enlightenment?" Or is it . . . " his voice dropped lower, and he blushed. His head leaned closer to hers. Unbelievably, the girl giggled.

Is he . . . flirting? Revan frowned.

"I don't believe we've met," murmured an accented voice from behind her. Mid-core, Widek maybe, or Archon V. "What business does the Order have with Mandalorians? Are you part of the relief efforts?"

Revan turned around slowly, very, very slowly. She kept her hands folded under her robe neatly in front of her. I am a Jedi Knight returning home after a long journey.

"We are not permitted to discuss it, Master . . . " She wasn't sure what she would have done if the man's face had been familiar, but it was not. He was human and wearing Master's brown. Behind him trailed a Twi'lek Padawan, and some Mon Calamari. Jedi escorts for diplomatic parties were quite common. They all seemed to be together, but she wasn't sure.

"Master Drez," he said calmly. "And you are?"

If she let herself, she'd feel the Force around them. The man's expression slowly changed to something like puzzlement -- as if he was reaching for her presence and finding nothing.

A good trick, Oerin Lin. Except if he starts thinking I'm a Jedi imposter . . .

"Knight Eras Dawnrunner," Revan said, trying to think about how Bastila would say the words, and make her voice mimic that cool -- and yet unthreatening -- assurance. "We've had a long journey, Master, excuse my exhaustion."

"There's something odd . . . " he peered at her, as if trying to see her face under the robe, under the visor. His Padawan came closer, a green Twi'lek boy who was . . .

One of the other students from the cave. I never knew their names. Thalia May and the two others. That's one of them. Thalia is here too, Mekel said. Are they . . . are they hunting for me?

Oh hell.

The man's head jerked past her suddenly. Oerin Lin came towards them, pushing back his hood, and pulling off his visor. His eyes were a disturbingly vivid shade of blue -- shouldn't they be yellow -- and he had a delighted smile on his face.

"Master!" he said happily. "It's been a long time . . . "

"My apologies, Padawan, I don't remember where . . . "

Oerin seemed bright as the sun, as if suddenly he was the only person in the room. What I would give to know how he does that, Revan thought, with a dull sense of wary relief. She stepped back slightly, bumping into Mekel who was deliberately looking very hard in the other direction. Mekel looked as if he were trying to melt into the floor.

Ahead of them, Gwen was speaking to the Rodian port official, and flashing her diplomatic credentials. Canderous stood, a hooded figure in brown at her side. His stance was more warrior than Jedi under those robes, even though he'd folded his hands in the sleeves just like she'd taught him.

"On Dantooine!" Oerin's voice boomed happily. A guess? Or can he read the man's mind? " Perhaps you wouldn't remember me. I was much younger, but I always looked up to you. And I will never forget those meditation exercises you taught us!"

Now everyone in the room was looking at them, or rather, looking at Oerin Lin.

"Perhaps I remember now . . . Naran Fee was it?" The Jedi Master seemed dazed. His eyes were almost glassy, as were the eyes of the boy beside him.

"Well it was, yes. Naran Starshine now . . . " Starshine. I should be happy he didn't go with Gamemaster, or Darkside. Or simply Mandalore, like he threatened. The part of the plan that involved Zaalbar being the Mandalore had not sat well with Lin. But how else could we get a Wookiee through customs?

Oerin launched into a long elaborate story that hinted at why the Order would be escorting Mandalorians into Coruscant, without actually giving any reasons.

" . . . and then we were attacked by pirates, but we managed to convince them to free us, as well as bringing an end to the slave trade in that quadrant of the Teeta sector . . . "

"We are free to go," Mekel whispered, words so faint she almost didn't hear him. He started to move to the door. Ahead of them Gwen was going through the gates already. Canderous turned back, and nodded, a quick jerk of his head. The Mandalorian could say quite a bit in one gesture. Right now he was saying; get the hell out of here now!

My thoughts exactly.

But Zaalbar had moved back to her flank, which wasn't really the right thing for the Mandalore to do, although she could understand why he did it. The Mandalorian warriors followed him back obediently. "Go on," Revan murmured softly. "Go." It was like herding hessi. Now Mekel and the girl and Canderous and Gwen were already through the gates.

Politely say farewell and follow them.

"Excuse us, Master Drez," Revan began. "We must take our leave now. My Padawan would keep you here for hours, with more of his rather . . . exaggerated tales of our adventures . . . "

Behind the dazed Jedi two more robed figures pushed through the crowd of Mons. Both faces were familiar but she could only put a name to the younger one. And here is Thalia May. The older woman looked right at her with pale eyes that seemed to pass through the flimsy visor right into her very soul.

"There you are, my prodigal Knight!"

Oh fracking hell.

Revan tensed, so much that even Force-addled Master Drez frowned at it. The crowd around her ceased to be lines of sentients waiting for processing. It became an obstacle course, and she plotted trajectories towards the exit, and the possibilities of getting out of this intact and -- although that possibility seemed really dim -- somehow undiscovered. She turned away from the woman and gauged the distance to the exit.

From somewhere behind them, came the sound of an explosion, followed by frightened screams and the sounds of running feet.

The permacrete detonators on the Girl From Hoth. Just in time. Mission set them off. A distraction was exactly what we needed. And now we really need to move.

Her voice came out, completely calm and reasonable, as if all of this was normal.

"My apologies, Masters. We're in a hurry." With that she turned away from the Jedi and started walking, Oerin Lin trailing obediently at her heels. And the luggage transport too.

There were running steps behind her and the old woman caught her arm. Revan kept walking, her head held high, as if all of this was expected. Her free hand shifted down to the hilt of her 'saber. Behind her she heard Oerin mutter an old Mandalorian curse.

"Krayt dragons are actually very peaceful creatures, as long as you don't corner one in its lair. Any cornered creature will fight for its own survival, no matter what the odds. And its companions may do the same. Tell yours I mean you no harm."

They passed through the gate. She didn't dare turn around, not now. The groundside air was soft and smelled like fuel and metal and rain. Ahead of them stretched the plain of visitor parking. Several garages and lots. Cracked duracrete under her feet. Ahead of them stood Zaalbar and Canderous and their Mandalorian escort. Canderous already had a rifle in his hands, and Zaalbar had unsheathed the vibroswords strapped to his back. The Mandalorians had their blasters drawn. The younger blond woman even had a faint smile on her face, as she fiddled with the casing of a grenade. Standing in front of them all was her final defender. Mekel held a double-bladed yellow saber, clenched in trembling fists. His hood had fallen back and his face was very pale underneath the black goggles of his visor.

He's holding it wrong, he'll be lucky if only loses an eye and not an arm trying to swing it like that . . .

And of course, the parking lot wasn't empty, or unguarded. An alarm went off somewhere, and a toneless voice droned from a hovering security drone that shone a bright beam of light straight at Mekel Jin.

"Sentient identified: wanted by CoruSec security and by orders of the Jedi Council. Underground denizen Mekel Jin, sub-level 47, please put down your weapon."

The cool voice beside her spoke. "I am Master Jopheena of the Council. My companions and I will take Mekel Jin into custody, please stand down."

Her companions?

Revan turned her head. Oerin Lin was at her back, his face very smooth and calm. HK stood on top of the luggage transport with a disrupter rifle in his hands, metallic eyes glinting a happy red. He had the old woman in his sights. Thalia May looked absolutely terrified. There was no one else behind them.

She has no other companions. She means us.

"Stand down," Revan called out. To all of them.

"Mekel Jin is considered armed and extremely dangerous, Master Jopheena. Port security recommends that you accept our offer of additional assistance."

Fingers tightened slightly on Revan's arm. "I think one untrained boy is no match for a Jedi Master, a Jedi Knight, three Padawans and our hired mercenaries, don't you?" The Jedi's voice carried, and ahead of them, she saw Canderous, lower his rifle, the others following his lead. "This is Council business," the woman continued. "And we have the situation well under control."

The expression on Mekel Jin's face slowly changed from desperate defiance to a blank calm that could have been relief. A hiss and his 'saber deactivated.

Canderous stepped forward and smoothly took it from him, pinning the boy's arms behind his back.

"An old friend, perhaps?" Oerin Lin whispered behind her. "Are you going to introduce us?"

"To do that, I'd have to be able to remember," Revan hissed. She would not let herself be angry, their position was too precarious. Whoever the woman was, they'd find out.

"Master Klee's here too," the old woman said. "And some of the others. You are fortunate it was Drex that caught you in the customs line, not Klee. I don't think your Padawan's Sith tricks would have worked on Klee, dear. If you have some transport, you need to get to it. Soon. That explosion will not throw them off for long."

The others had reached them. "Cruiser's this way," Canderous muttered through his mask. "Not far. Move. Talk later." He strode off through the lot, dragging Mekel behind him. The others followed.

"The Council is divided," Revan said quietly, quickening her step. The old woman's bony fingers clutched her arm. "The Council is divided regarding my case. And you are . . . "

"One of your uncle's friends, dear. We served together in the Sith Wars. How did you manage all of this without the Force? No--no, don't tell me. Perhaps there are some things I should not know. Your uncle and I . . . and some others want to ask you a question."

"Ask it."

The planetside cruiser was an old model, and a little battered. The docking ramp was down. The others stepped aside to get the luggage transport into it.

"Why are you here?"

---

"There was something my uncle didn't tell me," Revan swallowed and wondered how much the old Jedi knew, how much it was safe to tell her.

"Ah--and this . . . secret, do you know it now?"

"I know." A part of me always knew. I just didn't want to--it wasn't safe to remember -- I wasn't safe. Not for him, not for Malachor.

"Did the Jedi . . . " her voice trailed off and she thought of a hundred questions to ask. Did you do something to Carth's mind like you did to mine? Are you with D'Reev or against him? Did you send me to die on the Star Forge or redeem myself? How could you take away the memories of my son? In this battle I must fight are you my allies or not? The old woman's face was kind and sad and it should be familiar, she was certain it should be familiar, but there was nothing where a memory should be. Because they burned it from my mind.

"Do you hate the Council for what we did to you?" A bald question. Of course, they wonder. They wonder if they need to worry about saving their own skins. They'd stopped at the loading ramp. The old woman had dropped her arm and stood facing her, Thalia May at her side.

"Carth Onasi," Revan said. "Did you have anything to do with taking Carth from me?"

That wasn't really an answer, and it was only one of a hundred questions.

Master Jopheena shook her head. "No," she said softly. "In that at least we are blameless." She sighed. "I saw your Captain, and his son, and -- and -- yours. I do not know what was done to the pilot, but he is broken, broken as you were once. It was not done with the Force." Those blue eyes scanned the perfect mask of her visor, as if searching for answers underneath it. "You do not seem broken now, Revan."

"I-I don't even remember how -- or why -- or what . . . " Her voice was shaking and she stopped speaking. I will not be broken. Not anymore.

The old Jedi smiled sadly. "Did you ever think that might be a mercy?"

"Is the old woman coming with us or not?" Canderous' gravel voice came from the top of the docking ramp, with Zaalbar looming behind him. The rest were already inside.

Thalia May grabbed the old woman's arm. "Please," she whispered, "can we just go back to the Temple?"

Revan's eyes moved to the girl's face. Stark terror. Wide eyes, round and frightened. She felt a strange exasperation. What have I ever done to Thalia May? I saved her from the Sith students who made a sport out of hunting her and the others down in those caves. Why is she scared of me?

"No, we're not coming," Master Jopheena called back to Canderous. "The Mandalorian makes a rather absurd Padawan," she murmured more softly, raising her brows. "And I do wonder, about your plans--how do they involve Mandalorians? Thalia and I must return to the Temple . . . " she considered for a moment. "I 'm going to leave Mekel Jin with you, dear. I hope you take the responsibility seriously. He is a troubled young man."

"Mekel is mine," Revan said quietly. He has to be. I hold his life in my hands. A leader must make the decisions that no one else can live with.

"Yours?" The wrinkled face frowned slightly. "I hope you've learned more than that, Revan."

"Who are you?" Master Jopheena, I don't remember a Master Jopheena. I remember nothing.

"My name is Jopheena Sundancer. I'm a member of the Jedi Council."

The name meant nothing. The woman was watching her so carefully. Revan wanted to draw on the Force, to see what lay behind that serene facade, but she didn't dare. "I mean no harm to the Council." She made the words flat, trying to bury that part of her that wanted to harm the Council very badly. Revenge on them does not serve my purpose. Walk away, Carth said to me once. Just walk away.

Take what is mine and walk away.

"You will not be able to remain hidden from the others long. Malachi D'Reev knows of your arrival. And many suspect it. Soon they all will know. And when they cannot find you with the Force, they will try more mundane methods."

"I don't have to be hidden long." Just long enough.

The old woman nodded, as if a question was answered. "The Mandalorians," she mused, as if to herself. "I remember how loyal they were to Ulic, long ago."

After he defeated their leader, the Mandalore. When they helped him sack Coruscant.

"I am not Ulic," Revan said quietly. "Or Exar Kun."

And these Mandalorians are no army. They are refugees seeking Senate recognition for the Malachor system. They are a different tool entirely.

"No, you are not." Those blue eyes scanned her face again. Revan resisted the urge to pull back her visor and stare back, eye to eye.

"Revan," Canderous said quietly. He'd come down the ramp to her side. "We need to go." His voice was muffled under the mask.

"I do not intend to -- fight --" Revan began.

"I can guess some of your intentions." The old woman looked sad. "I once said to my Padawan that sometimes a quick strike does less harm. Your peace could cause more injury to the Republic than the alternative, if my assumptions are correct."

"You were my -- I was your Padawan?" Revan frowned.

"No, dear. You were Vrook's. And Zhar's. You had many Masters, during your training, but you were never mine. My Padawan was Malak." Master Jopheena sighed. "And in the end, as so many did, I failed him."

"Revan, we need to get out of here," Canderous took hold of her arm.

Revan clenched her hands. "I will not kill again," she said quietly. I don't want to find out if I'd feel every death or not. Bastila made me feel them . . . .but now . . . I don't want to find out if I'm still . . . what that computer made me. I don't want to be that. I just want my son. And Carth, andcarth.

Spark of anger, flickering. I want to kill D'Reev. His death would be sweet. It would be a song.

"Go," Master Jopheena said. Suddenly she looked very old and frail. Just an old woman wearing a brown robe. Her hand trembled and Thalia May took her arm, supporting it. Thalia was very careful not to look their way. She still looked terrified.

Terrified of me.

"Thalia --" Revan said.

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin, her dark skin turning ash with fright.

"Thalia, I'm not--" evil, a Sith Lord, dangerous.

"We need to go." Canderous was pulling her away now, dragging her up the ramp. There was a squad of soldiers trooping out of the port. "Bloody Jedi," he hissed. "Did you ever think they might be stalling for time?"

Revan let herself be dragged. "I don't think -- that woman -- she didn't mean us any harm."

"Mean us harm or not, we can't be captured now. They'll know we're here soon enough, but they have to find out on our terms . . . "

"May the Force guide you, Revan Starfire," Master Jopheena whispered. Somehow she made those words carry. Revan turned her back on them and went into the ship. The docking hatch closed behind them, and the cruiser took off.

The cruiser's cabin was one big room. Canderous pulled off his mask and dropped it on the floor. Zaalbar groaned at her underneath the suit of armor. One of the Mandalorians muttered a curse. The ship's engines hummed. The blonde girl glanced at them briefly, and then turned back to the controls.

Gwen Ordo stared them down from one of the couches, sandwiched between two of the warriors. "You spoke truly, husband. You brought us the Mandalore." Behind her, Oerin Lin beamed happily. "But the whelp is still unblooded, and, if his story his true --" Canderous grunted an assent "-- you've brought us two Mandalores, not one. How does this serve us?"

Revan swallowed. Facing down the Jedi Master had been easier. "The Senate has always acknowledged local governments, yet they ignore your requests for aid." Mission had given them the reports, weeks ago, on the Mandalorian situation on Coruscant. "If you appoint Lin as your Mandalore, they will be forced to recognize your sovereign status."

"He's unblooded," Gwen said. "He cannot rule us."

Revan pulled off her visor and stared the woman down. "I am blooded," she said, trying to make the words more of a command than an apology. "Sand, air and stars. And the Senate -- cannot ignore me."

A faint smile crossed the woman's face. "Drenched in blood," she replied. "Not since the ancient times has a woman of our people gained so much honor in the men's world . . . but, you are also hunted, Jedi. Your own people seek to make an end of you."

"If you accept Lin as Fett, and then appoint me regent, they cannot -- openly -- move against me," Revan said. "Not without causing an act of aggression against a sovereign people." We hope.

The Mandalorian considered. "So offer them Lin, get them to accept our status and then give them you . . . .it would be interesting to see how the barbarians would react." Her mouth curved in a smile that was sharp as a sword's blade.

"I am also heir to one of the most powerful seats on the Senate," Revan said. "And I could use that to our mutual advantage."

"Are you?"

"A Coruscanti Senator's term is fixed at one hundred standard years. I married Malak D'Reev on Mandalore and bore his son. By Coruscanti law, I am a D'Reev. Senator Malachi D'Reev has held his seat for one hundred and two years. He's only still in power because my son is a child." She took a deep breath. "His Senate seat is rightfully mine."

My father hates you, Red. You are a threat to him in ways you can't even imagine.

I don't want the damn Senate seat, but we don't have to get that far to win.

"D'Reev . . . " Gwen spat on the floor. "He's played us false. I wouldn't mind seeing him fall."

"Played you?" Revan frowned. She knew of no connection between the Mandalorians and the Senator. That was one of the reasons we thought this plan would work.

The Mandalorian shrugged. "His agents arranged for our diplomatic status, and he promised us trade with the Core worlds, relief shipments . . . promises that he has not delivered."

"Why?"

Behind them, the blonde girl gave her an incredulous look. "Why? You of all people should know why!"

Revan gritted her teeth and glanced at Canderous. He shrugged unknowingly.

How I love surprises.

"Why," Revan repeated. "Why does D'Reev support Mandalorians?"

"It's women's business," Gwen said, glaring at the girl. "And something we do not speak of. D'Reev owed us a favor, and he has been lax in paying it. That is all you need to know." She frowned. "His heir is your son, the Lin whelp says . . . " Her voice trailed off thoughtfully. "By the old ways, we are sworn to help your clan reclaim him --"

"Yes," Revan said quietly. "You are. Malachor is Lin too."

She would not look at Canderous, or wonder if things had changed. This was his Clan and his wife. Did that change things? How can I ask him to risk his family to save mine?

The Mandalorian warriors whispered among themselves. With their helms off, they were very young, barely more than boys.

"I only want my son," Revan admitted quietly. And Carth, andcarth.

"And once you have him, where does that leave us?"

"With a Mandalore, and whatever else you can wrest from the Senate in the power vacuum D'Reev's absence will create."

His absence. I want to kill him. It would be sweet.

"A Lin Mandalore. We are Ordo. But the idea has its merits, if Ordo was tied to Lin."

For some reason Canderous sighed. "Gwen . . . don't . . . "

"Ordo is pledged to Lin," Revan frowned. "Canderous swore --"

"Blood oaths, men's ways . . . " Gwen eyed her speculatively. "I would not have an Ordo daughter marry an unblooded whelp. But you yourself would be an asset to our clan. If Lin and Ordo were pledged . . . "

Revan didn't even want to think about what that might mean. Does she want to marry me off to an Ordo?

"I'm blooded in sand," Oerin Lin broke in, indignant. "And air."

"With no fleet you will never be blooded in stars," the blonde girl sneered. "You and all the rest of them. Boys . . . you'll be boys forever. Not true warriors."

"The Clans will rise again," said one of the young warriors behind her. "Canderous is here. He will lead us to victory and honor against a worthy foe. You should shut up, Milli; it's none of your business."

"With what ships?" the girl shot back. "She destroyed our fleet. The battle was won, and she destroyed them anyway. Revan left us with nothing, made us into a race of beggars and thieves. The blooded men are gone, scattered across the galaxy trying to earn back their honor for the tune of a few credits. And we're left with this, begging for scraps from the maffa-stinking Republic like paupers. Scraps to feed the few that are left on the home worlds. Old women, children, more unblooded pups like you, Kex!"

"There's a season for all things, daughter," Canderous said quietly. "And we will rise again."

Daughter. I was right. Canderous' family. Revan wondered if that changed things. She could tell nothing from his face.

"When we leave Coruscant," she'd said quietly, "your people will be in danger. Are you sure you want to risk this, Cand'?"

The warrior looked up at her from the rifle barrel he was polishing. It didn't need polishing. Everything was ready, had been for days. They were only waiting on Mission's transmission, and the Hoth's arrival.

"From the computer's reports and what we've seen on the nets we know that they're dying now," he said slowly. "A slow quiet death. Famine. Diseases we no longer have the technology to treat. That is no death for Mandalorians."

"I meant the ones that will help us on Coruscant," Revan said. The plight of the Malachor system was gossip on several star systems. No one was sure how bad things really were there, but there was much speculation. The fifth planet was unstable in its orbit, causing ecological catastrophe on the three inhabited worlds.

Canderous glowered. "Better for them to fight than beg as they do now. They will thank us for bringing them back their honor. I wouldn't worry about the consequences, Revan. My people can take care of themselves."

"And they'll have me," Oerin Lin added, with a gleam in his yellow eyes.

Revan clenched her hands on her lap. "Canderous -- are you --?"

"Nothing has changed," Canderous said. His face was frozen like ice, like rocks. Fixed and unchanging as the stars. "A season for all things." He glanced at Revan but she couldn't read the expression in his eyes. He got up from the couch and crossed his arms, every inch a Mandalorian, even in the ridiculous Jedi costume.

"My people, Clan Ordo." He looked at them all, his wife, his daughter, and the three half-grown warriors behind them. "By the honor of our forefathers I ask you to join us in this worthy battle. What I ask for is not your sacrifice. For this venture is not a sacrifice . . . " A faint smile crossed his thin lips. "It is a gamble."

"And how will this battle begin, husband?" Gwen still sounded skeptical, but the look in her eyes was almost fond.

Oerin Lin chuckled. "With a party."

XXX

Carth Onasi

"You left early this morning." Her voice was light, and she looked up from her desk terminal, giving him a cool and neutral smile. Beside her spun the holomap of the Core worlds, with Fleet positions marked in red. Only a few red points, now. Far too few for the war to come. "I thought we'd have breakfast."

"I-I had to get back to Dustil," Carth said. "Before he woke up, I didn't want him think --"

Captain Rew Ekkumi smirked at him. "Think his father didn't come home last night after his date? Carth, Dustil's not a child anymore. He knows how the world works."

"He's been having nightmares. It's just that I worry . . . "

"And he was fine, wasn't he?"

Carth tried to grin. She'd expect it. "He slapped me on the arm and called me an old dog. Congratulated me. I think he likes you, Rew."

"That's nice," the Admiral said dryly. Her brown eyes considered him. They were remote, not like they'd been the night before. Her hair was pulled back tightly in one long braid that ran down her back. Last night it was loose and hung to her waist. Morgana's hair was the same color but it had never been so long. Her voice was like Morgana's too, and he thought they had the same build, lush and curved under their uniform. He thought they did--his wife's face, her body was like a faded hologram kept too long in the sun. Flicker of a memory, or an echo.

"Where were you this afternoon? We had a meeting with the Telosian Reps." She was still talking.

"I-I had to meet someone." Carth swallowed. "Bastila's mother. She's-she's in bad shape, Rew."

"Still drinking herself to death? Helena Shan has three pensions. One from the Council, one from the Senate and one from the Fleet. Jiya sent her to a hospital a few months back with his own funds too . . . he served with Bastila, on the Ascendant, during the wars . . . " Rew shook her head. "It's a shame, it really is. I hope you didn't lend her any credits."

"No." I just left. The great hero Captain Carth Onasi ran away from a sad drunk.

"Good. When you didn't turn up for the meeting I thought maybe . . . you'd been down portside," the Captain said carefully.

Carth frowned at her, something sinking in the pit of his stomach.

"Portside? Why?"

"There was some trouble, they've been trying to hush it up, but someone started a rumor that Darth Revan landed. Then the grids went down -- the commercial ones have been spotty for days. Fleet was there, CoruSec, Jedi -- the only thing they turned up was some old actress who'd had revan surgery for her latest comeback. Seriina Starr. The silly bantha almost got herself shot."

Carth remembered Manaan and the Revan pretenders. "They're sure it wasn't -- they're sure it's just an actress?"

Captain Ekkumi laughed. "They're sure now . . . dragged her off to be genetically scanned. Senator D'Reev is up in arms, one of his productions you know, Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith, the Real Story, or some other blaster crap. There were rumors about the two of them a long time ago -- Malachi and Seriina I mean -- not . . . you, know . . . "

Her. She's here. The actress was a feint. She's here. It has to be her. That Rakatan computer could bring down the grids, change docking codes. She's here, Revan's here . . .

Suddenly the spacious Fleet office seemed claustrophobic. He was stifling. Carth's wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"You know, even if Revan does come . . . there are some soldiers who don't think it would be that bad." Captain Rew Ekkumi's voice was so light that he couldn't tell which side of the minefield she stood on.

"She's Sith."

"Her uncle doesn't think so . . . have you seen the reports from Manaan?"

"I was there." Blood on her neck where the collar bit so deep, that rattle of her breath in her lungs. I thought she'd die before the trial. I didn't want to lose her . . . I said I'd be right back . . . Carth clenched his fists.

Rew sighed. "You've changed, Carth Onasi." Her commlink beeped and she frowned at it, tapping in an irritated command. "Look, I'm busy now . . . but, the day after tomorrow, would you like to escort me to a party?"

"A -- party?" Carth's mind was elsewhere, thinking about the explosives cache. He'd have to move Dustil, convince Ekkumi to take his son for a while, think up some excuse. But after what she said about Revan -- could he really trust her? Perhaps Dustil would be safer with Malachi. The old man would let nothing happen to Malachor, and he could keep Dustil safe as well . . . Carth would tell Dustil it was part of the plan, part of the trap to lure Revan to them . . .

But it's me she'll come for. It's me she knows about. Me and the Jedi Council.

"A party," Rew repeated. "Drinks. Food. Music. Dancing." Her narrow nose wrinkled. "Probably bad drinks and food and music, considering the hosts . . . but . . . these are strange times."

"Sure," Carth replied, running on automatic. "Tell me the details tonight? Over dinner? I don't want to keep you." He could borrow a lift to get the explosives back to the conapt. No one would ask questions, half the Fleet already treated him like the walking dead. When they didn't think he noticed, he could see the pity in their eyes, hear their soft whispers. What she did to me. She destroys everything. I must destroy her.

Would it be tonight, he wondered. Would she come to him tonight? His breath caught in his throat. "Actually tonight, I can't do dinner," he said apologizing. "Dustil and I --" the lie was stiff on his lips. I'll have to get Dustil out of there. How will she know where to find me? She'll find me, she always finds me. In my dreams she always finds me.

"I didn't ask you to stop by tonight," Rew's military reserve was back. She hesitated. "Look, Carth, last night was wonderful, you were wonderful . . . but I-I don't think this is good for either of us. I've gotten over Jasin's death, been over it for years . . . but you . . . I think you need more time. It's --" her olive skin flushed "-- it's awkward to say this, but . . . "

Carth tried to pretend the emotion he felt wasn't relief. It shouldn't be relief, she was a beautiful woman. "I'm sorry," he tried. "Morgana's death was very hard on me . . . I've -- perhaps you're right, it's too soon --"

It's been four years now. No -- five, almost five. He tried to remember her face.

"Morgana," she echoed. Rew looked at him, a frown sketched between her straight brows. She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again. She looked away.

Carth changed the subject. "Where's the party?" he asked. He didn't expect to be alive to see it.

"The Mandalorian Embassy. Something about the heir to Mandalore coming here to plea for his people's lives . . . they're trying to drum up support. It'll be interesting . . . .and you speak their language don't you? I thought you could be my interpreter -- unless --" a frown shadowed her face as she remembered where he'd probably learned it.

"Repeat after me, pilot. Ik'ny'ya republik achin'var infi."

'"The Republic dogs sleep with whores,' nice one, Cand.' Don't your people have any curses that don't involve the Republic and whores?"

The old warrior cracked his knuckles and stretched. "Not that we'd share with outsiders."

"I don't -- I don't really speak much of it," Carth lied.

Months in space on the Hawk. I learned Mandalorian, some Shyriiwook, Twi'leki, and twenty ways to say 'you don't have to apologize' in Cathar. Juhani was always sorry about something or other, something she thought we'd all take offense at. Almost a year, all of us, together in that ship. Sometimes I thought we'd kill each other, but then Polla would come into the room with her bright smile and make a bad joke. Her jokes were always so terrible, but we all laughed or maybe that was just me because I loved her, I knew I loved her.

I loved her as early as Taris, but she never knew. No. She -- she always knew.

"I always knew you loved me, flyboy," Polla said softly. Carth stirred beside her, stroking the silk of her hair, loose from its topknot, tangling his fingers in it. They were on the floor of the cockpit, doors locked and sealed from the inside. He was pretty sure the others knew what they were up to, but he didn't care.

"I'll always love you, Polla," he said.

"If this is awkward for you or painful, you don't have to come . . . " Captain Ekkumi looked almost apologetic. "Maybe it was a silly idea. It's fine. I'll go with Jiya . . . "

"N-no. I'll escort you." Carth cursed the paranoia that made him associate 'Mandalorian' with Canderous--and therefore with Revan. "It's just a bunch of refugees at the Mandalorian Embassy, isn't it?" Carth asked. The ache in his chest was guilt, maybe. That was better than regret.

Rew nodded. "Women and children, for the most part, yes. A delegation from their homeworld." Her eyes met his in complicit understanding. Captain Ekkumi had been at Weis. They'd carpet-bombed Weis, targeting civilian populations, before the Fett's armada drove them back out of the sector. Back to Althir where the tide turned again.

He remembered Dustil's words to him on Korriban.

"How many mothers have you killed, Father?"

'I'll come," Carth repeated. If I'm still alive. "Rew -- I'm sorry that things . . . "

"Sorry that you're still in love with someone else?" Her voice was cool. "You said her name, Carth -- when, you know . . . " A blush tinted her olive skin.

"Morgana's death was -- I loved her so much . . . "

"Right. I know you did. Love Morgana. I loved Jasin." Rew Ekkumi blinked her eyes suddenly, very hard. "Look, I consider you a friend. If there's ever anything you want to talk about, anything at all, I'm here for you." She tilted to her head to the side and stared him down. "It wasn't Morgana's name you said."

"I have to go." The room was claustrophobic, he was sweltering. He felt like he was running a fever.

"I'll send a car for you around sixteen hundred, day after tomorrow." Rew said. Her attention was already back on her console. "Take care of yourself, Carth."

"You too."

He left her there. If he'd stayed he'd have asked her what name he'd said.