Varnusian Productions Presents:
Grave
Affairs
Medlab,
Vectur,
Planet Varnus
1800
hours
Xar Kerensky strode into the Medlab
recovery room with Deputy Mathis Organa close on his heels. As he entered, he
swept his dark eyes across the sparsely-lit room. He hadn't had much sleep in
the trip back from Sigma, and he knew his attitude reflected it. His long, gray
overcoat hung over his shoulders, and his dark hair was disheveled from their
hasty arrival. Behind him, Mathis looked even worse, in his worn brown coat and
long, scraggly brown hair.
Doctor Vannik, a dark-skinned, elderly man in
a white overcoat, stood at one side looking into a status display screen.
Occupying the only bed in one of the smaller recovery rooms was a man with long
blonde hair, a white sheet covering him up to his peaceful and quite noble-looking
face. It was a face Xar remembered well, now, though it had seemed familiar
even the first time he’d seen him. A number of monitoring devices were set up
around the bed, checking the patient's progress. He was sleeping.
Xar immediately turned to the doctor, laying a hand on his arm. Vannik turned and met his eye.
"How is he? What happened here?" Xar asked, quick and to the
point.
Vannik's eyes narrowed,
and he made as if to pull his arm away. When Xar's grip held, he shook his head
and gave up with a sigh. The doctor sometimes seemed to forget whom he was
speaking to, treating high and low on the ranks the same. It was one reason Xar
had selected him for the position; Vannik knew that
inside the Medlab, or in matters where therapeutics
were involved, he was in charge. He
spoke his mind, and acted as he thought was right. Xar wanted people who could
tell him when he was wrong. Foolish leaders died thinking they were always
right. Many had died that way, including Emperor Palpatine,
though Xar usually kept those thoughts to himself.
Still, sometimes that slightly impulsive trait had its drawbacks - and
annoyances. Now was one of those times. Xar wasn't very interested in Vannik's remarks about his tone of voice, nor his
objections about the patient’s well being. Vannik's
words surprised him, though.
"Physically, my patient's fine," he said matter-of-factly.
"Mentally, I'm not so sure."
"What do you mean?" Mathis asked from behind.
"What I mean," the doctor said, glancing between them,
"Is that he has problems. Big ones. You thought
he caused damage when he was still in a coma? He's ruined half the medical wing
by now! He's still lashing out with the Force, throwing things around..."
"I do not care about the damage he has done," Xar interrupted,
holding up a hand. "He is more valuable. Besides, he does not know what he
is doing."
"Know what he's doing? That's what I'm trying to tell you," Vannik’s voice was tense, but he was careful enough to keep
his voice down. "I don't think he's mentally stable. How was I supposed to
know what to expect? Nobody has been removed from a stasis sleep of more than a
couple hundred years, much less fifty or a hundred times that. He's suffering
from some kind of hibernation sickness. He's got temporary blindness, but I
think that'll only last a while. But that’s just part of it. When he woke up,
he seemed stable enough. Then when he noticed something was wrong, he started jabbering
in a language nobody understands, not even our best computer translators. We
can't communicate with him. He must be disoriented and afraid."
Xar nodded. "All right, all right. Let me
try. Jedi learn... other ways to communicate. Let us see if this one remembers
anything." He glanced at Mathis. "Stay close. Back me up if I need
it." He didn't know what to expect from a Jedi who lived during the
earlier stages of the
He started over toward the simple bed on which the patient lay,
hesitated as he looked into that calm, regal face. A Jedi who lived in the
galaxy's ancient past... What long-forgotten knowledge might he hold? What lost
Force Powers might he be able to teach them? He tried to suppress the thoughts,
tried not to get too excited, focusing on what he had to do. He heard Mathis
step up behind him.
Xar reached out and lay a hand on the man's
shoulder. Reaching out with the Force, he gently brushed the man's mind. Wake up, he thought.
Suddenly the man's eyes snapped
open, and he sat up so abruptly that Xar took an involuntary step back. The man's cold blue eyes were open, but they
saw nothing as they stared blankly at Xar. Then the man began speaking.
"Je, samo lawushan se bukan?"
Xar didn't bother answering verbally. Now he knew what the doctor had
meant, had an idea what the poor patient must have been going through. Calmly
he reached into the man's mind with the Force and closed his eyes. Yes, now he
could see what the man must have been seeing. Now they were on level ground.
But where his projected thoughts should have been transmitted to the other man,
he ran into an invisible wall around the Jedi. He felt around the man's mind,
searching for some entrance point, but he could find none. Whether
involuntarily or of his own accord, the other man was blocking him out. He
couldn't communicate with him unless the man made the other half of the
connection.
Xar could vaguely hear the man still speaking in the background, but inside
the Force, the spoken words mattered little. But try as he might to make sense
of the thoughts that went along with the words, he couldn't. He was being
thoroughly blocked out. Dauntless, he pushed harder, straining his thoughts,
trying to connect with the other man. Can
you hear me? Please, answer me, we are friends!
Suddenly he felt as though hurtled forward at incredible speed, and the
other man's sense flooded into his mind. Xar realized it was the first time
he'd actually been able to sense him since he'd awakened. I can hear you, the
feeling said, right in his head, and for a moment he thought it was his own words. Thoughts weren't like voices, with
different pitches and volume. There was
a sense of volume, actually, but different. It depended on the user's strength
in the Force, and, left unchecked, could give their
recipient splitting headaches from a simple communication. Xar had to mentally
reduce the intensity of the voice, otherwise he would
probably have been writhing in pain. The man's power level was absolutely
incredible, and he had no control over what he was doing. He felt a question. Who
are you?
My name is Xar Kerensky, Xar
thought back, finally getting himself oriented again. He didn’t know how exact
his thoughts would be transmitted to the other man. I am a friend, he concentrated on saying. You were injured, asleep. We have been taking care of you. We do not
mean you harm. He let his feelings and emotions flow through the link,
offering his sincerity.
Why can I not see? The
thoughts came forth.
You are sick from long-term
hibernation. You eyesight should return in a week or more. Please, let us help
you. Stop lashing out, you are making things more difficult.
I do not understand. I do nothing. Are you
truly a friend? Where am I? Questions
bombarded him.
You are on my home,
the planet called Varnus, in the medical facilities of our
A feeling of recognition at Xar’s last thought. Jedi? That
word... I know it. But I cannot remember. I do not know what a Jedi is.
Xar struggled to maintain his concentration. A sinking
feeling hit his stomach .You cannot
remember? But how are you using the
Force now?
The Force? What is that? I... cannot remember... anything. Anything! Who am I?
What am I doing here? Why can I not remember! The thoughts came through like a scream. The link seemed to
fade.
Please
stay calm. You have... amnesia. We will help you, but you must cooperate. It
will take time, we must learn your language, or you ours. Until then we can
communicate like this, through the Force. A mental link.
Force? Link? I am not doing anything, how can I talk
to...
And just like that, the link was broken, snapped like a twig as the man
thought about what he was doing, was doing something he didn't know how to. The
breakaway was abrupt, and violent. Xar felt like something really had snapped
in his head.
He opened his eyes staring at the ceiling. He was lying on the floor
against the wall, the patient's bed a good five meters away. Breath rushed back
into him, and he gasped for air. Vannik's face came
into view, as he leaned down to check on him.
"Are you okay?" Mathis asked anxiously, looking over beside an
unconscious patient.
"I am fine," Xar muttered, coughing. Pushing away the doctor's
hands, he brought himself back up to his feet. "What happened?"
"One moment you were standing there," Vannik
said, watching him warily. "The next, you were flying backwards as if
you'd been launched from a catapult. A trick of the
Force?"
Xar nodded. "He just caught me by surprise." He began making
his way back toward the bed. "The man is using the Force without even
knowing it, like a beginner, except this one is as strong as me, maybe even
stronger. He can only do basic things, manipulation of matter, telepathy,
telekinesis, that sort of thing. Nothing too complex."
"Not too complex?" Mathis eyed him incredulously.
"He has amnesia. He cannot remember anything." Xar announced,
looking over at the doctor.
Vannik shook his head thoughtfully. "Yes,
it would make sense. A good possibility with that long of a
sleep. This complicates things, obviously."
"You bet it does," Mathis scowled. "If he can't remember
anything, then he doesn't remember anything about his time-period, the Force,
or all the knowledge he might have gained..."
"That is correct," Xar breathed heavily. "So
much for our hopes of recovering any long-lost Force secrets. He is
going to have to learn the Force all over again..." He looked back over at
the bed. The man had lain down again, sleeping soundly.
* * *
Grathkar Korealis looked out the
viewport of his Nebulon-B class Frigate, watched as
several Y-wings flew by in front of his new prize, a large Imperial Modular
Conveyor they’d captured. Carrying important supplies for the
New Imperium's cause, though it would be their own undoing. Ironic, that. But he hardly gave it any thought. They didn't
dare touch the cargo onboard the ship. To do so would destroy the whole
operation, as sure as a delay on their part would, as well.
He reached down and keyed his commlink, signaling his men that were
working onboard the conveyor. "Report," he demanded. "Is the
bomb in place?" If they took much longer the NI might suspect something,
find the device they were hiding onboard. Then he'd have to kill someone.
"The bomb's in place, milord,
but we're having a bit of problems getting this cloaking device to work," an accented voice came over
the link.
Grathkar frowned. "You have five more
minutes to get it perfect, otherwise I'm gonna blow
your sorry hides into space dust," he warned.
"Aye, sir, we'll have
it," the man promised.
They'd better have it. It was just so hard to find good terrorists these
days...
* * *
Planet
Varnus
1930
hours
Maarek
Stele wandered the corridors, contemplating the events that had happened only
days before. In the
Strolling along on what he considered his evening walk through the
palace grounds, Maarek was passing through the lower recreation area when a
strange humming sound stopped him. A familiar sound... He'd never heard it in
person - most hadn't - but he was sure that many had in popular Holovids and a hundred other methods. It was hard to
mistake the sound of a lightsaber once you'd heard it before.
The sound clashed again and again. Maarek was becoming worried. It had
to be a battle; who in their right mind would fight with a lightsaber except
with the intent to kill? He hesitated. Should he try and find out what was
going on, or call security first? The latter might be the most prudent, except,
he felt... drawn towards the sound. Cautiously he made his way down the hall.
The sounds grew louder as he approached, then finally leaned around the corner
into the large recreation area. He gave a start at what he saw before him. Xar
was in the middle of the room on the training mat, golden-yellow saber held diagonally
downwards in front of him. But the person opposite him was what startled
Maarek. A huge bulk of a man, dwarfing Xar, and what looked like a large, black
axe in his hands. An axe with a glowing, deep azure blade.
A lightsaber's blade. The
light-axe's handle was long, and held firmly in the man's large hands. He had a
roundish face, and his head was shaved. His eyes met Xar's,
but Maarek couldn't discern any particular emotion in them. Concentration,
perhaps.
Maarek slipped inside and moved along the wall as the two men suddenly
went into motion again. The large man swung the axe down right on top of Xar,
who managed to bring his blade up, and parry the strike to the side. The weight
of the axe brought it down low, and Xar came up with a strike to the man's left
side. The burly man barely got his weapon over in time to block, then with a
grunt of effort pulled Xar's blade up and moved in close, bringing the opposite
end of the axe, ending with a sharp spike, up to stop centimeters from Xar's
face. It all happened in a split second. Maarek gasped and took a step forward,
knowing too late that he was too far away to help Xar in any case.
Then something unexpected happened. Both men smiled and lowered their
weapons, and Xar reached up and slapped the larger man on the shoulder.
"Nice one, Iver," he laughed.
The other man smiled back, and laughed, a deep rumble. "As you say."
Then they stood back, and this time it was Xar's turn to attack. He came
in with a series of thrusts that Iver turned to the side, then
abruptly Xar brought his blade around in a low strike to the man's right. Iver
blocked the blow just in time, though Maarek thought the man's dark robes might
need some stitching after that strike. Xar left his blade down, trapping Iver's weapon, then pivoted and threw a side kick into the
man's midsection. Iver bent over, the wind rushing out of him as Xar took his
blade and held it mere millimeters from the man's neck. "How was that
one?" he asked smartly, pulling the blade back and de-igniting it.
Iver straightened and took a couple shallow breaths. "Not
bad, Brother." The glow of his axe-blade faded, and he held his
weapon at his side. Both men grinned again, and this time clasped hands and
slapped one another on the back.
"It was good seeing you again," Xar said seriously. "Will
you be staying around much longer?"
Iver shook his head. "No, I'll be leaving in the morning. I have
some things I need to take care of. It was
a good match, my friend. Until later." Then with
a final nod, he turned and headed back toward the far entrance.
Xar turned and strode over in Maarek's
direction. As he got closer Maarek could see that sweat had plastered his hair
down and soaked his short-sleeved dark shirt.
"Who was that?" Maarek asked, glancing after the retreating
figure.
"Just a friend. An old
comrade." Xar walked over to the bin at the near wall and pulled
out a towel.
"For a moment there, I thought you two were really going at
it," Maarek said, raising his eyebrows. "That's pretty dangerous, fighting with
live blades. You could've been hurt or killed."
Xar looked back over at him and smiled. "Not really. We were just
having fun. But I need to catch a shower and take care of a few things myself.
How are you doing here in the palace?"
"Just fine, thanks. It's really incredible. Probably one of the
most beautiful ones I've ever been in."
"Glad you like it," Xar smiled.
"Yeah. Well, I'll continue my walk
then," Maarek announced.
"Right. Oh, by the way, I have to make a
public speech tomorrow morning, 0900 hours. I am going to go over our recent
mission to Sigma and make a few announcements. Come if you like."
"I might be able to make it," Maarek said. Then, nodding, he
headed back out the entrance to continue his walk. The night was still young,
and there was much of the palace yet to be seen.
* * *
Delran Spaceport
In
orbit, Planet Tralaria
1810
Hours
The
modular-conveyor slowed to a halt and sank down on its repulsorlifts.
Seconds later it came to a rest on the landing pad. Delran was one of Tralaria's
largest spaceports, and also one of the busiest. It was late afternoon here,
though, Tralaria standard time. Most of the ships scheduled to land were
already in their docking ports. The area around the landing pad was deserted as
the ship powered down and the automatic systems locked it into place.
The outside hatch slid open, and Engineer Jonas Meiers
made his way out into the cool hangar. Buttoning his coat up in the front, he
looked down and studied the pad area and walkways below. No one in sight, as it should be. The
operation was proceeding exactly as planned so far. The operatives working
there had taken care of that, along with making the landing clearance and
docking move as smoothly as possible.
Jonas turned around and secured the hatch, sealing off the ship for
cargo unloading, and started down the debarking stairway. The original pilot
and four-man crew of the ship had been taken away when they'd intercepted the
vessel, and Jonas had finished its journey alone. Now all that was necessary
was for the cargo to be unloaded, and to wait.
At the bottom of the stairway, he glanced down at his datapad. His final orders were there. He read them one last
time.
Upon completion of your mission, leave the
ship behind for unloading. Get off the spaceport and take a couple month's break. You've earned it. We'll contact you.
A tap of a few keys deleted the message, and he walked over and tossed
the device in the nearest waste bin. Then he turned and walked down the
corridor, hands in his pockets, whistling a lively tune to himself. Leaving the ship behind.
* * *
Vectur, Varnus
2130 hours
Xar
strode into his chambers and dropped down onto one of the cushioned seats in the
lounging area. Across the room a gray and black striped cat padded across the
carpet and jumped onto the couch, where it lazily fell onto its side and lay
there. It was one of many Xar had brought in, or let into the warm palace from
the outside chill. He had a soft spot for the small creatures, and made sure
the palace tenants took good care of them when they needed it. It was strange,
he knew; but somehow he likened them to himself, their ability to survive,
their tenacity. Many that were let in from the outside had had to make their
way through trying situations, much as he had.
Reaching over beside him onto the glass table, he took a small crystal
sphere into hand and studied it intently. The object was transparent, but a
latticework of crystal became more and more intricate toward the center. This
particular item was very old, and very expensive. He'd found it in a museum of
antiquities in the
The air in the middle of the room rippled suddenly, folded, and suddenly
a tall figure was standing there on the carpet. A cloaked
man, hair as dark as his robes and contrasting with his pale face.
"Still here, Icis?" Xar muttered from his seat. "Did you
know this little globe was responsible for two wars, three coups and the merging of two rival families?"
"Only call me that in private," Icis Novitaar
warned.
"Ah, afraid one of you 'enemies' will
notice you around and come calling? You must have quite a few, to live in such
constant secrecy," Xar jested, looking up at the man. Going by his Jedi
name of Rex since officially entering the Jedi Division on Varnus, he had saved
Xar’s life when they'd first met. Icis had decided to travel with Xar as an
advisor, though he absolutely insisted on maintaining as low a profile as possible.
Apparently the Force trick he used to render himself invisible was a large part
of that.
The other man's dark eyebrows rose. "I'm a survivor," he
stated plainly. "That is what I was trained for, and I learned it well. I
survive."
"Of course." Despite his closeness to
the man, Xar didn't really know that much about Novitaar. He'd revealed only a
sparing amount of information about himself, though from his sage advice and
apparently vast sources of information, Xar guessed he had been trained as an
informant or some similar vocation. He said he was a Traveler, one of a group
that recorded the most important events of history, but never interfered.
Except for this one, it seemed.
"These petty administrative and diplomatic duties are getting to
me, Icis," he announced. Around Novitaar was one of the few places he knew
he could speak his thoughts aloud candidly. "Did you know that the Harlek Ambassador wants to double the tariff rates on juriff this year? I did not even know what juriff was until
he explained the whole deal to me."
"How interesting," Icis said blandly. "Responsibility is
a heavy burden, slowly eating away the freedom of individuality."
Xar set the crystal back on its table. "That is why I am not
running for Diktat again. Not next term, anyway. What do you think of the other
potential candidates? I cannot lend my support to either, of course."
"With the power comes the responsibility to use it properly. Either
one - or many others - would do, as long as they are prepared. We must all be
prepared or risk the dissolution of all we work for."
Xar sighed in frustration, but he wasn't really angry. "Stop
talking in riddles, man! You always avoid my questions. You are supposed to be
my advisor. So advise! What else do I keep you around for?" he ended in a
more jocular voice.
"I feed your cats," Rex offered, eliciting a smile from Xar.
"Really, diplomacy is not my area of expertise. I'm afraid my advice is
limited in that regard."
Xar nodded. "Yes. Well, at any rate, I have to give a speech in the
morning about the recent Sigma trip, more political stuff. Will you be
there?" The other man shrugged slightly and gave a nod.
"How did you find me?" Xar asked suddenly. "Out of
everyone in the galaxy, you chose me to join and offer your assistance.
Why?"
All expression left the other man's face as surely as if he'd donned a
mask. Xar clicked his tongue in exasperation.
"I must know," he said.
The corners of Icis' mouth turned up slightly
in a smile. "You have been thinking about this." It wasn't a
question, but Xar nodded anyway.
"We have ways of... sensing such things," the man said softly.
"Key events in history, events certain individuals may be able to take
part in during their lifetimes. It is not that the person is so
important as is the event itself. I found you because of what I was
seeking."
"And what was that?" Xar interjected.
Icis continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. "It took me a
long time. Nothing may happen in your lifetime. It is always uncertain. Before
I found you, there was someone else that I thought would be the key. I found
him when he was still a young, an upstart in the Jedi Order. He was destined for great things. Just not what I had been looking for. It may be the same
case, now. But developing events suggest otherwise."
"Who was it?" Xar asked.
"The future is always in motion."
Back to the riddles, then. Xar didn't ask what
the man was talking about. That brief spout of information was the most he'd
ever gotten out of the man before. It was obvious he knew more than he was
letting on. His hint that he was fairly informed of current events meant the
man had access to a wide information base. Yes, there was definitely more to
him than met the eye.
Then a barely-caught name made him jerk his head back up. "What did
you say to yourself? Nimoudians? You mean the Nimoudian Conflict
before the Clone Wars?"
The other man's eyebrows rose. "You know your history," he
noted.
Xar nodded. "Yes, I try to learn everything I can about Jedi
history."
The other man's face held a guarded look, so he decided not to press the
issue further. He didn't know what could have made the man bring that up; the Nimoudian Conflict had happened almost forty years ago. Certainly before his time.
Coming to his feet, Xar gave a long sigh. "Well then, I suppose
must prepare for tomorrow. I will not need you any more tonight. Have fun
doing... whatever it is you do."
Icis half-smiled, and nodded. "Very well. Good night." With that he turned and
headed for the far door. Before he was halfway there, the air around him
shimmered, and suddenly he was gone.
Xar shook his head. He had to learn how to do that, someday.
Icis
strolled through the corridors, lost in thought. This part of the palace wasn't
widely traveled in the evening; only a few passerby
were making their way along on their business, the occasional cat scurrying
across the floor.
He knew he'd given too much away by that spill about the Nimoudians. For a moment he considered erasing that
annoying part from Xar's memory, but he quickly cast the idea away. Such a
small matter would involve great risk, he might be
detected, which would create a new host of problems. Besides, Xar had other
things to worry about. Icis had been there during the Nimoudian
Conflict, knew all about their secret pact with the Sith Lords, Sidious and Maul. Back when he had first started watching
Anakin Skywalker, the failure, the one who had proved not to be the One. He
snorted, thinking about Maul and his obsession to look like Velius.
The thought made him give a sardonic laugh, and a passerby jumped at the
invisible sound, running down the corridor the other way. Icis didn't care.
He'd seen the real Velius, and fought the weeks of
nightmares that had come from it. Idly he wondered where Maul had found a
description to go by. Probably in some mythology text or some
far-fetched, ancient historical record. Perhaps Vader had done the same,
modeling Nimrod the Destroyer.
Icis was so lost in thought that he didn't realize what he was doing
until he turned a corner and ran straight into a short, stocky man going the
other direction, knocking him down. The man got up with a curse, mumbling
something about not even being at the bar yet, then went off on his way.
Shaking his head, Icis continued his trek through the Palace, his thoughts
wandering along with him.
* * *
Audience Hall
0900
Hours
The morning air was cool, hinting at the impending winter
months of Varnus' southern hemisphere. It
will be much cooler soon, Maarek thought as he made his way down the
hallway. Outside, through the tall multi-paned windows, he could see the leaves
already changing color as the cold set in.
He continued on through the hallway until he emerged in the audience
chamber where Xar would be making his presentation. The room was already full
of people, the rows of seats lines up facing the raised stage and podium was
buzzing with conversation. Why so many people were really interested in a drab
political report was a mystery to Maarek; even with this New Imperium they'd
formed out here in Wild Space, politics were still politics. Normally he
wouldn't have been caught dead at such an event, but he was willing to do it
for his friend. It was strange: he almost felt like he was supposed to be here...
He shrugged the thought away. He glanced around the room, wondering where he
should sit. The hall was decorated well, with a blending of colors on the
carpet and walls and arched scroll-worked ceiling. Tall glowlamps
augmented the light coming in from the tall windows and overhead skylight. A
number of beautiful, exotic flowered plants were even placed in the four
corners of the room.
Maarek decided to take a vantage point against the wall, up near the
stage, where everyone could be visible to him. He'd always thought it wise to
have all potential threats in front of him instead of behind, with no chance
for him to defend himself. The security men obviously subscribed to the same
philosophy, as even this far inside the Royal Palace they stood at attention,
both the crowd and all the exits under their watchful eyes. A Holocam was also in place at the end of the room, ready to
broadcast the Diktat's message throughout the New Imperium and to its news
agencies. Maarek didn't much like cameras, either.
A few minutes later the room was mostly full, and a string of murmurs
issued as the Diktat arrived, striding through the side entrance, an escort of
guards surrounding him. Xar wore a black Jedi robe, beneath which appeared to
be plain clothing like he always wore. Apparently he still wasn't much for
formality. Not only security was around him, though. Maarek could see three
finely dressed men who looked like delegates following Xar. One was lean, with
graying hair and mustache; the other two seemed cut from the standard
bureaucratic mold, plump, pale, and important-looking. They weren't the only
escorts, though. Three other men wearing Jedi robes came in as well. One was of
average build with sandy-blonde hair that hung down to his
eyebrows, while another, named Kiz Thrakus, was a brown-haired, handsome man from Jengar who had come to Varnus with the rest of House
Ar’Kell. Maarek had met him earlier in the Palace’s cafeteria. The third man...
Maarek blinked. He hadn't noticed the other man before. This one was taller
than everyone but a couple of the security guards, with black hair that
contrasted his pale facial features. Simply striding along in his cloak, he
acted nonchalant, but his eyes took in everything in the room. Two Jedi to
accompany the Grand Master in his speech; perhaps the old days of the Jedi were
returning after all. But some of the room's occupants cast wary glances at the
Force users.
Maarek watched as Xar made his way up the short steps to the stage and
moved to stand behind the wooden podium. Behind him on the wall was a long
banner bearing the New Imperium insignia, a gold Imperial symbol and laurel
leaves on a field of blue. The security guards moved to conveniently out of the
way places, though they were obviously ready to act if necessary. The other
three men took up positions behind and to the side of Xar.
Xar took a moment to look out around the crowd, meeting Maarek’s' gaze for a moment, before beginning.
"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the New Imperium, and denizens
of Varnus, welcome. As all of you know, the past weeks and months have been
busy, hard, and trying for all of us and the New Imperium as a whole. We have
had to stand up and take our place in the galaxy, sort through our underlying
problems and correct them. The NI has gone through its birthing stages, and we
have prevailed and succeeded in accomplishing our goals. As newly-elected
Diktat, I am here today to report on more goals we have been able to accomplish
for the New Imperium, new venues for our growth and expansion. A great period
lies ahead of us, as we continue to grow and gain new allies throughout our
home sector.
"It is the latter which I wish to speak on first, and to report on
what may be ahead for us in the coming period. Less than two standard weeks
ago, our diplomatic mission to the planet Sigma resulted in a huge success and
the gaining of new allies for the benefit of the New Imperium. Our new allies,
the Kaav'Klan, have agreed to join us and share technologies, and to assist us in production with their
prodigious productive abilities..."
And suddenly his speech was cut off as the rear wall of the room blew
out, sending out flames and smoke, and wall debris flying out into the room and
into the crowd. The camera shattered into a hundred pieces. Time seemed to slow
down to a crawl, as chaos enveloped the audience chamber. Everything happened
at once. Just as people reacted, turning toward the source of
destruction or reeling back from the deafening blast, figures burst through the
smoke filling the open back wall, charging in through their newly-made
entrance. Maarek noticed the blasters clutched in the invader's hands
and dove from his seat, along with many of the crowd, and the room erupted in
blaster fire. Red bolts flew out across the room, aimed toward the stage and
the podium there. As Maarek hit the floor, he saw one of the Jedi - the
younger, sandy-blonde man - throw his arms around Xar and hurl him toward the
ground as shots blew off the front the podium, sending flaming fragments into
the air.
"Protect the Diktat!" someone yelled, and then a hail of
blaster fire answered the assailants from the security guards, responding only
a second after the attack began. The stage's other occupants threw themselves
down, as many of the crown were, but screams were already erupting from
everywhere.
Then, impossibly, several of the crowd stood up, doffing their cloaks
and revealing the blasters in their hands, and opened up on the stage area as
well. Red beams of energy filled the air ahead. It didn't seem like anyone
could have still been alive up there. Then Maarek noticed something; the blasts
weren't reaching their targets - they were impacting against an invisible wall
at the edge of the stage, where the now-shattered podium had stood. Behind the
shield, the three Jedi stood, the tall one looking out with his dark gaze, the
younger man clutching his left arm and glaring malevolently at the assailants.
The hail of blaster bolts intensified, but still they couldn't penetrate that
invisible shield.
The return fire of the guards was fierce, and accurate. Apparently the
shield didn't stop shots from the other
side. The would-be assassins screamed as they fell, and began taking cover
themselves, diving behind the audience seats where most of the crowd still
huddled.
Facing the death flying across the room, Maarek decided to make a break
for cover, himself. First coming up on his hands and knees, he threw himself
forward into a run toward the stage. When he was halfway there, red blasts began
flying close past him on either side. If those Jedi didn't let him through
their shield, he was a dead man. Taking one last stride, Maarek leapt headfirst
onto the stage, where he hit hard on the floor, rolled, and came up against
something soft. A guard's body, he realized, as he pushed himself up. Gritting
his teeth, he looked back out at the men who'd just tried to kill him. Reaching
down, he took the dead guard's blaster and brought it up to take aim at his
attackers. One of them popped up from his cover to snap off a shot that
impacted harmlessly against the shield, and Maarek fired, sending a burning
bolt of energy into the man's torso, throwing him backwards.
"Where are the Centurions?" someone yelled. "They
should've been here by now!"
"If they could have made it, they would have," another guard
responded. "We're on our own here. Let's show them the mistake they've
made!"
Maarek took a second to glance around him and take stock of the
situation. One of the two large bureaucrats was lying
face down, dead, the other huddled against the back wall. The graying man was
standing with the remaining security guards, sending fire back at the enemy.
The three Jedi were still standing there, seemingly engrossed in whatever they
were doing to keep the shots off them, and Xar... Xar was pulling himself up
off the floor, a wild look on his face. A frightening look.
As Xar rose, the attackers started yelling, and then, surprisingly,
began turning back, running back out the hole they'd made in the rear wall.
Fire still came from the assailants still in position, but they began moving
back, one by one, as well. Grimacing, Maarek fired at
the retreating enemies, scoring a hit on one that took him in the back and sent
him sprawling forward.
Seeing the Diktat up and alive, the older man grabbed his shoulder and
shouted something inaudible amidst the ringing in Maarek's
ears. Maybe there was more to him than it seemed; he certainly didn't look like
a politician now. Xar nodded at what the man had said. Then, making a
closed-fist motion to the guards, the graying man quickly began moving the
Diktat out toward the side exit. The other bureaucrat anxiously ran out as
well, and the guards began following as well, The Jedi, still holding their
shields up, came last. Maarek moved on ahead, down the stairs to catch up to Xar
and the man holding onto his arm.
"...and I know that, Drayson," Xar
was saying angrily. "I could have done something!"
"You're the Diktat, your life comes before ours," the older
man said. "Our job is to protect you... with our lives."
Maarek glanced behind him, seeing the guards and the three Jedi coming
into the hallway behind him, the hallway Maarek had used to enter minutes
before. The tall, dark man was walking ahead of the others, moving to catch up
with him and Xar.
"I am glad you made it all right, Maarek. I am sorry about
this."
Maarek looked back around to meet Xar's gaze, and shook his head.
"Why?" Xar asked simply. His face was full of confusion.
"I do not understan..." A high-pitched sound from behind cut him off, followed by a deafening
blast. The ground rushed upwards in Maarek's
vision...
Maarek pushed himself up spitting out the blood in his mouth. There was
more on the tiled floor in front of him. His face felt as if someone had pelted
it with a hammer. Gingerly he reached out to touch his nose. It was definitely
broken. Blood was gushing from his nostrils down over his mouth, dripping from
his chin to the floor below.
Ahead of him, Xar was getting to his feet as well, and as Maarek rose
and turned he saw what had happened behind. The end of the corridor was filled
with flames. The roof had collapsed, sealing off the entrance as well. Maarek
turned his head away at the sight of what was left of the rearmost two guards.
They'd been blown to bits by the explosion. Two more guards were down, and the
rest were staggering to their feet, swaying as they did so. The tall, dark
cloaked man was kneeling over the other Jedi. Blood stained the younger man's
hair; it was clear he wasn't going to get up. Kiz Thrakus was pulling himself to his feet nearby.
"What... what happened?" Maarek asked in disbelief. Reaching
up, he wiped his face with his sleeve, stared at the blood on it when he took
his arm away.
"Concussion grenade," the Drayson’s
voice said from behind. "They wanted to make sure they'd finished us
off." Then he reached down and pulled out his commlink from its belt snap.
"This is Drayson, there's been an attack on the Diktat in the forward
audience chamber. We need some reinforcements now! Where are the
Centurions?" He waited for reply, and a few moments later he lowered the
link, a grave expression on his face. "The Centurions are all dead. They
just found them, still at their posts, dead where they stood. We'd better get
clear of here, sir. You're not safe in this part of the palace."
Xar hesitated, then nodded gravely. "We
have to find out who did this," Xar growled. "And make them
pay."
* * *
"You
have to get off Varnus, sir." Drayson's jaw was set firm, he obviously wasn't going to
back down from this one. "We can't guarantee there won't be another
attack. I've called in the rest of the guard, but without the Centurions, we're
undermanned and spread out thin. If you weren't here it would make our job a
whole lot easier."
Xar reached the center of his office and
turned to stare at the older men. "I cannot leave my people in their time
of need. I have to calm them down, assure them that everything is all
right."
"It won't be all right if you're
dead. There's no choice here. We'll handle things here on Varnus. You’re the
Diktat; your safety is important for the whole New Imperium. We don't need you
here."
Mouth dropping open, he gaped at Drayson.
"You are directly defying me?"
"That's one thing you hired me for, sir. To
correct you when you're wrong. And right now you aren't thinking
clearly. I'm right on this. You can fire me if you want, but otherwise, I have
to do my duty," he stated simply.
Xar shook his head wryly. The man was right, that was why he hired them.
Just like Vannik, they could be a pain sometimes,
they could make you regret you'd hired them, but in the end you could trust
them with your life to do the right thing. "All right," he conceded.
"But I will not be leaving until later today, I
have some important things that I must take care of." Drayson
opened his mouth to protest, but he cut him off with a slash of his hand.
"Don’t push it, Drayson." The older man
sighed, then finally nodded reluctantly.
Breathing a heavy sigh, Xar went around his desk and dropped into his
seat. Drayson was right, in the end. Besides, the
Senate would be convening anyway, and he had planned on attending. He could not
let this change that. Mathis would have to go as well, as the second Jedi representative,
and perhaps Maarek would want to come, as well. After exposing himself during
the firefight, he might be a target as well. Yes, there was much to do before
he left. He had better get to work...
* * *
Maarek
gazed out the shuttle's viewport at the blue and green world receding below
them, touching his still-sore nose, barely healed by bacta
before taking the trip out. For the second time, he was leaving Varnus after
having hardly been there at all. He was never going to get anything done as Jedi
Division Wing Commander at this rate. He didn't really know why he was here,
but somehow Xar had convinced him to come along. Must be why Kerensky was a
diplomat and an Admiral, there to give out the orders, and he was a pilot, trained
to follow those orders. Xar had been a pilot though, once.
Over in the seat across the room from him, the long-haired Deputy Grand
Master who called himself Billbob groaned and
stretched. Maarek still couldn't believe this man was a representative for the
New Imperium. He looked like a wild predator pretending to be tame so he could
get close to his prey and strike at any moment. Wild,
dangerous, yet seemingly sitting easy in his seat beside the table.
Maarek doubted the man ever sat easy. The ubiquitous half-grin that always
seemed to be on his face was directed toward Maarek, now.
"Boy, is life out here strange or what?" Mathis shook his
head. "One minute you're in your quarters enjoying a nice hot bath, the
next you're blasting your way out of the atmosphere under secrecy of night, traveling
to the capital for who knows whatever reason."
Maarek didn't answer. Instead he reached out to the glass of water on
the table beside him and took a gulp. This luxurious private shuttle apparently
reserved for the NI Diktat's personal use was well-stocked with supplies and a
variety of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, but Maarek had preferred water
for a long time. When you had to live on the edge, the last thing you needed
was a buzz. A pilot had to make split second decisions, and have lightning-fast
reflexes. He'd seen pilots who had sneaked drinks before a mission come back in
a little container carrying their remains, or nothing at all. And when you had
to live by the skin of your teeth and whatever money you could scrounge from
doing odd jobs and flying missions, you couldn't afford much else but water.
This stuff might have been free, but he didn't want to get into the habit.
Apparently giving up on the conversation, Mathis leaned back in his
seat, sipping his brandy.
"So what can we expect from Tralaria?" Maarek asked suddenly.
Mathis, lowering his glass in surprise, shook his head wryly. "I
guess you’ve never been, huh? With our luck? More of the same, my friend."
Maarek looked down into his water, turning the glass in his hand.
"That's what I expected," he sighed.
* * *
Delran Spaceport
In
orbit, Planet Tralaria
0840
Hours
Kreg Harken strode into the
control room, a fresh cup of caf steaming in his
hand. With annoyance he noticed that his two subordinates in this cluster, his
Tech officer, Pann, and his "go-for”, Jenar, were already at station before him. Clearing his
throat, he set the cup down on the control console and slipped into his seat at
the
"Good morning to you too," Jenar
said dryly.
"I heard that," Harken warned.
"Same old stuff," Pann reported.
"I'm just going through system boot-up now."
"Why?"
"Well... there looks to have been a crash last night," the man
answered.
"That's odd," Kreg muttered. With a
tap of a few keys he brought up a manifest of the ships currently in dock and
their cargoes. Crashes weren't too uncommon as to be cause for more than a
rudimentary examination, but he was one who believed in thoroughness. And when
the manifest came up he stood up so abruptly he yelled aloud from the scalding
hot caf that spilled on his pants. "What the...
What's that ship doing here!" he demanded, pointing a finger at one of the
Modular Conveyers on the list. A typical class of ship that
could regularly be found in the star dock, except for one thing. This
one wasn't supposed to be there.
"Huh?" Pann got to his feet and
moved over to lean on the console. "Good question there, boss. Must've come in during the night."
"I know that!" Harken yelled.
"Find out what it's doing here!"
"Yes sir!" Pann launched himself off
the console and began furiously typing away at his own station. "No data,
sir. It must have been lost in the system crash."
"Or it wasn't there at all," Harken
mused. "How very convenient. Jenar!"
"Sir?"
"Kindly get yourself out there and find out what's onboard that
ship... Unless they've already offloaded whatever was onboard."
Jenar got to his feet in compliance, but Pann called out for him to wait. "Sir, I've found
something in the important lists, where the higher-ups keep schedules. This
ship was carrying an important cargo of... pets, of all things! It was
offloaded this morning. Maybe we should leave it alone... If the higher ups
wanted this through with minimal slowdown we shouldn't interfere."
Harken nodded. Pann
could be right... But still, something felt wrong. Why would the brass want to
push such a regular cargo through the important list? No, he would be thorough on this. "Jenar... Do it."
The
override caused the hatch to open itself, opening into the interior of the
Modular Conveyor, and Jenar Olen entered. Shining his
glowrod ahead of him, he made his way through the
cabin area and the hallways into the cargo area. An empty room greeted him, his
footsteps echoing in the expansive cargo hold.
Bringing his wrist commlink up to his mouth, he spoke. "It's all
been unloaded, sir. I think it's safe to say there were pets in here, of some sort." The stench in the hold made
his nose turn. He had to get a better job in the department than this...
"Roger, search the rest of
the ship before coming back." Harken's voice
came out.
Wonderful. Harken would have to keep him here as long as
possible. Shining his glowlamp around, he made his
way around the entire cargo area before returning to the cabins.
Suddenly Pann's voice came over the commlink. "We're picking up an energy source from
somewhere in the forward part of the ship," he said. "It's faint, but it shouldn't even be
there. Check it out."
Shaking his head in exasperation, Jenar went
in the direction he'd been told. If Pann started
being as picky as Harken, he didn't know what he was
going to do. Forcing the hatch door open, he made his way into the room Pann was telling him.
"That's it. Now, somewhere
near the floor against the wall. Look under stuff."
Setting his glowrod on the floor aimed at the
wall, Jenar set to work. He pulled the storage chest
away from the wall, retrieved his glowrod to look
behind it. And froze at what he saw there.
"By the Core... Uh, guys, we have a problem..."
* * *
One
massive expanse of ocean stretched outside the shuttle's viewport, as far as
the eye could see. In the copilot's seat, Maarek shook his head at the panorama
of water. "So this is Tralaria. I've never been to a water planet
before."
Beside him, the pilot busied himself with the controls, but he still
seemed in the mood to make conversation. "Yeah," he responded
lightly. "Tralaria's got millions of indigenous
species, all different types, most of them water dwellers and submariners.
We're over the
Maarek nodded absently, his gaze concentrating on the deep blue water
below. There were ships down there, white and brown vessels cruising about on
their massive sails. One might wonder why such primitive methods of navigation
were still used, but these craft weren't made for speed or comfort, but for
pleasure. On such a pristine, beautiful world many would enjoy a day of sailing
on the ocean, the wind and sea in their faces, enjoying simple life away from
the rest of the galaxy's problems. Many of those vessels belonged to the Tralarians, with their incredible aptitude for the seas, they had vessels which traveled both above and below
the waves.
"Beautiful sight, isn't it?" the
pilot continued. "There are some really incredible species living in the
oceans. Out of them, too. Did you know there's
something called a flying fish that can leap out of the water and soar around
the air? Their wingspan - or fin-span - can be up to five meters long! Of
course, the native race here's an enigma itself. Most of the Tralarians live underwater, but they can breathe air too.
That's how they have been able to mix in with the Imperials living here. But
they've irrigated most of the land mass so they'll always be close to the
water. The capital is crisscrossed with canals and rivers. Ah, here comes the
main continent now..."
"Okay," Maarek finally got in, holding up a hand. He'd wanted
conversation, not a full lecture. "I'm going to the back, going to get
some things ready." With that he followed his own words and got up and
made his way toward the rear compartment.
* * *
Senate Hall
1520
hours
The
wide doors that were the east entryway into the massive Senate Hall opened, and
Sector Admiral Ryskar "Scourge" D'larit
emerged, blinking his eyes in the bright sunshine. It was a warm, beautiful day
on Tralaria, the kind most people would spend outside as much as possible. Not
the Senate, of course. They conducted business indoors, although Ryskar wished
he could do something about that. It was such a shame he couldn’t take the
chance to work on his tan, he realized mirthfully. The sea breeze stirred his
hair, and he ran a hand through its not-yet-graying frock as he waited.
Scourge looked up at the deep blue sky, where only a few wispy clouds
were making their trek across the upper atmosphere. Even from down here he
could see dozens of craft in the sky above, traveling to and fro, some
approaching the capital city, others making for orbit. The salty tang of the sea
air tasted clean and refreshing. The faint roar of ocean waves crashing on the
beaches less than a kilometer away made soothing background music, punctuated
by the cry of gulls soaring overhead.
One ship, a bare speck of metal reflecting the sun, circled above and
started closer. A moment later the tri-wing design of a graceful Cygnus Lamba-class shuttle could be discerned. That would be the
Diktat's ship, the reason he was out here, waiting. Good that Kerensky were
coming on time on this occasion; there were many things that needed taking care
of back in the territory of his Dark Lightning Strike Fleet, and Ryskar was
anxious to return. That was, as long as another crisis didn't decide to present
itself during the Senate session. The news of the assassination attempt had
shocked the entire Senate, and there would inevitably be a bill proposal to
upgrade the defense guard for NI Senators and Officers. That
on top of everything else.
He pushed his thoughts away as the shuttle loomed closer and descended
on its repulsorlifts, coming to a gentle rest on the
VIP landing area. The shuttle's boarding ramp descended, and a troop of six
guards came out first, moving to form a row for the rest of the passengers to
walk through. Then three more figures emerged and made there way out, heading
past the guards toward the Hall's entrance. Ryskar moved forward as well and
met them halfway, offering a bow to the Diktat and the Senator from the Jedi. A
third person, someone who looked vaguely familiar, stood as Xar's left, rubbing
his thin, short beard as he looked up at the massive edifice in front of him.
"Welcome to Tralaria, Diktat, Senator," he said formally,
nodding to each man as he spoke. "We are very glad to see you here, safe.
You have arrived at just the right moment."
"Hello, Admiral D’larit," Xar
greeted him in return.
"You'll hear more about it once inside," Ryskar continued,
"but I'm glad you're all right. I couldn't believe the news when it came
in. I'd like to speak with you later, if possible."
"Of course, my friend," Xar nodded. Then he blinked. "Ah,
yes. Allow me introduce a good friend of mine from back during the war. He made
his way out here to join up with the NI, and has signed on as Wing Commander
for the Division. This is Maarek Stele."
Ryskar's mouth dropped halfway open. "The Maarek Stele?
You're supposed to be dead, aren't you?"
Stele shook his head. "I get a lot of that, nowadays. Let's just
say you shouldn't believe everything you see in the Holovids."
He smiled as he offered his hand to Ryskar.
"Don't I know that," Ryskar replied, taking the hand.
"You probably don't remember me, but we flew on the same mission
once."
Maarek stepped back, eyes widening. "Really?
Which one?"
"Back during the defection of Admiral Zaarin. I was there when he tried to pull the
coup."
"You too?" Stele exclaimed. He cut
his eyes over at Xar, then back at Ryskar. “Now this is strange. I guess we're almost like family, huh?" All three
men shared a laugh at that.
"I wasn't in your flight group," Scourge continued, "but
I was on detail and scrambled in to head off Zaarin's
fighter groups."
"Ryskar D'larit, right? I think I
remember now..."
Behind Stele, a cough broke into the conversation. "Sorry to
interrupt, gentlemen, but the reason we're here..."
Ryskar looked past Maarek's shoulder at the
long-haired Jedi standing there. "Good to see you too, Organa," he
said jokingly. "You're right, of course. Well, now that the pleasantries
are dispensed with, shall we?"
With that he turned back toward the massive edifice that was the New
Imperial Senate Hall and started forward.
Behind him he could hear whispered voices coming from the other three
men as they followed.
* * *
Main Senate Hall
1730
Hours
Maarek sat back in one of the
plush-leather seats in the spectator area of the Senate Hall and sighed. It was
about time for a little rest and relaxation. The Senate Hall itself, the
interior, the city around it, they all held a feeling of newness, a feeling of
life and vitality that was attractive and refreshing. No wonder Tralaria had
been chosen as the seat of the New Imperial government. No one to bother you,
no one to talk your ears off, and no one to blast their way through the wall
and try to kill you. The main Senate Hall was relatively peaceful compared to
recent events, even with the buzz of voices coming from the Senators' booths.
It was amazing how a group of people could disagree on even the smallest issue.
Then again, they could surprise you sometimes. Right now the Senate was
discussing, as expected, the idea of increasing protection detail for the
Diktat and the NI Senators.
After their arrival, Xar and Mathis had been taken to a small reception
ceremony in regards to their safe return. Instead of joining them, Maarek had
opted to find his assigned quarters and stow his gear away. He didn't think the
two men were having a good time at it, anyway. A short time later, it seemed,
it was time to get down to business, and thus everyone had filled in here for
the first formal Senate session after Xar’s appointment as Diktat.
As Maarek gazed around the circular chamber – a much smaller copy of the
Imperial Senate Hall on Coruscant
(what was left of it, anyway) – he wondered at the faces sitting behind the booths
occupying the alternating levels upon which they sat. High-ranking
officers, all of them, some military, some actually Moffs
and political leaders themselves. In the earlier days of the Empire such
a gathering of leaders would have been cause for serious occasion; in these
days, it was not so rare a sight to see so many leaders as to see them working
together and not trying to kill one another.
Then again, maybe the terms "working together" weren't the
best choice. While everyone seemed to be for the idea of increased security, is
was the manner of security which was
cause for debate, as well as how that extra security would be carried out.
Maarek didn't know any of the Senators besides D’larit
and Mathis, though he thought he'd seen Intruder Wing Fleet Commander Arfann Dogar and Phoenix Technologies CEO Walt Amason on
the HoloNews at least a couple of times. He didn't
want to judge any of them prematurely, but naturally held reservations against
political officers. His experiences with them in the past had been less than
pleasurable.
At the moment Senator and Fleet Admiral Caramon
Majere, who commanded his own fleet, was calmly laying out a plan for assigning
elite Stormtrooper protection details to Senate
officers until the Royal Guard could be reinstated. Occasionally one of the
other Senators would make a comment, or the Speaker himself, asking questions
regarding the senator's plan. Others seemed to want to expand the Centurions
who had been doing the duty up until now, offering that Imperial guards and stormtroopers gave too much of an ‘Imperial’ presence and
would instill fear rather than assuage it. It wasn't all that interesting to
Maarek though, and he found his thoughts drifting. He was considering the idea
of visiting the hangar and pilots' mess to see what he could get into when the
tone of the Senate's conversation suddenly changed. He hadn't been listening
closely enough to make anything out, but he could definitely feel it in the
atmosphere. Xar, standing at the Speaker's podium in the center of the room and
surrounded by the Senate booths, was looking intently into his access vidscreen. Finally he looked back up warily and his eyes
swept across the Senators around him.
"Gentlemen, an incident has come up that
I am afraid will require the Senate to postpone its discussions. A matter
pertaining to NI security requires our attention. I am sorry for the
interruption, but I cannot say more at the moment. I would suggest we relocate
to the forward conference areas to discuss these matters."
Without waiting further, Maarek got up and began making his way down
toward the center floor. Regardless of the danger, he figured he was better off
with the ones who had the real security...
* * *
Conference Room
Senate
Hall
1800
Hours
Half
an hour later the group had reconvened in the spacious conference room, the
Senators gathered together in small clumps debating as to what had happened and
what to do about it. For himself, Maarek chose a seat by the wall where he
could keep his eyes on everything that was going on. As Xar took the podium at the front of the
room, though, most eyes turned toward him and the news he'd received.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a bit of an incident in occurrence
which may slow us down for a little while. It took them a while to convince the
security channels to let it through, but I just received an important message
stating that an explosive device of some sort was found smuggled into the
Delran Spaceport in orbit on a cargo ship. It was armed, but I assure you it
has been deactivated at this point."
Before he could say more the room erupted in voices.
A dozen questions were coming in, but Xar overrode them and continued. Maarek
leaned forward in anticipation.
"While who has planted this device is unclear, the bomb itself was
powerful enough to destroy most of the spaceport, and would have if it had not
been disarmed. The Security commission has deemed it possible for other such
devices to exist, and the Senate has been advised to take cautionary measures."
He held up a hand to forestall any comment, the voiced finally dying down to a
murmur. "I know you all have questions, but that is all the information I
have at the moment."
Naturally, the questions came then, most of which Xar couldn't completely
satisfy. Then, predictably, the increased protection detail issue was brought
up again. This time, just about everyone seemed to support the idea. Though the
question of whether or not they could legally conduct business outside the
Senate was briefly raised by one of the newer members, it was quickly explained
that being the Senate, they could meet anywhere they wanted and conduct
business.
In order to, as Xar put it,
"get things over with so we can get out of here and get to more pressing
matters", the group quickly proposed and wrote up a document to bolster
Senator protection, leaving the details of uniform to the individual being
protected. Thus there, in the meeting room, the Senate ratified the bill to
establish increased personal protection detail for Senators and Senate
Officers.
The
setting sun was a large, orange-yellow globe as it slowly sank toward the
horizon, the point where the astonishingly clear sky met the massive expanse of
ocean spreading out as far as the eye could see. Waves crashed gently against
the sandy shore, and a light breeze stirred the air and swept around those
enjoying a peaceful late walk along the shoreline. A few ships were still out
there, far off the coast, their large sails puffed out as they slowly swept
across the waves. The cloudless sky was populated by soaring seagulls, and the
much higher sky saw ships and smaller craft passing by far above.
Maarek stood leaning on the rail of the balcony overlooking that
beautiful panorama, taking a moment to enjoy and revel in the beauty of that
view. Peace. That was the image portrayed. He liked it here on Tralaria. A
shame he wouldn't be here long enough to fully explore and enjoy what was here.
It gave him a feeling he'd rarely ever felt before. Here, he felt truly alive.
It wasn't like the feeling he got when flying. Almost nothing could compare to
that feeling, of total freedom and power, the ground so far beneath you that it
didn't matter. That was a life unto itself. But this...
This was different. It was strange to him, alien.
His thoughts were interrupted as he noticed someone walk up to join him
at the rail. He glanced over... and instantly straightened as he saw the other
man. "Admiral D'larit! Good evening, sir."
The other man smiled and waved him off. "No need for the formality,
Commander. We're off duty. Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." Maarek glanced back out
toward the ocean. The sun was just touching the horizon, bathing the two men in
orange light as it slowly sank below the surface of the waves. "This sure
is a beautiful place, isn't it?"
D’larit nodded. "Yes. But as officers we
don't usually have the time to enjoy it."
Maarek frowned. "Do you regret that?" he asked.
"Of course not. What I'm saying is that
I'm hardly ever here longer than it takes to handle Senate affairs." He
turned halfway towards Maarek, a calculating look on his face. "May I ask
you a personal question?"
"Sure."
"What do you think about all this? About the NI
and our cause. What brought you out here to join us?"
Maarek grinned. "Well, it’s a long story, Sir. Let's just say I was
between jobs. When I heard about Xar and the NI, and what you were trying to do
here, I decided to come and see for myself. I believe in what the New Imperium
stands for, sir. Here, with you, I feel
like I have a real purpose, and I want to do what I can to help." He
paused, his thoughts wandering. "What brought you into military life, if I
may ask?"
D’larit’s face suddenly harbored a guarded
look. "The Rebels killed my wife on Thyferra. In
one day they destroyed one future and set me on another path for the rest of my
life."
Maarek winced. "Sorry, sir."
The Admiral shook his head. "It's all right. You couldn't have
known."
"If I may be so bold... " Maarek went
on, curious. "How does the NI's new stance
reflect on your feelings? Do you fight for vengeance?"
"Not anymore," the man said flatly. He didn’t elaborate any
more than that.
Rather than press further, Maarek decided to change the subject.
"Do you... think we can make it? The New Imperium, out here on our own, I
mean? There are plenty of enemies that would gladly try to take us down at the
first sign of weakness. We can't fight everyone at once."
"True," the other man agreed solemnly. "But we're not
shooting for some far off, impossible goal. We're taking it as we come to it
and focusing on this small area. And by doing that we can make the difference
we're hoping for."
Maarek gave a slight nod as he stared back out toward the sea. "But
it would be grand, wouldn't it? Having a seemingly
insurmountable goal, something to really drive you. People follow
impossible dreams."
D’larit shrugged. "True. Imagine what it
must have been like for the Rebellion, at first. Their task before them was
incredible, yet they persevered and didn't give up. And look where they are
now. Now the tables have been turned. Now the Empire is in that position. But for us... We're somewhere in between. With somewhat
around a single sector group's strength, dreaming to take our place in the
galaxy, it's all we can do. We have enemies on both sides, now. I don't know
what the future has in store for us, but whatever it is,
we'll face it as best we can."
"All we can do," Maarek agreed. But inwardly he couldn't shake
the feeling that something was going
to happen, and not far off in the future. His gut feeling was working again. He
couldn't quite put a finger on it, but somehow he knew that it was his true
purpose for being here. It had been driving him ever since he arrived on
Varnus. His feeling he'd had when on the Stormwatch,
barely making it out of his crippled TIE Defender, what he'd felt when he saw
that massive ship in space... Something was coming. But that knowledge didn't
bother him, really. In fact, deep down, maybe was even looking forward to it.
His whole life, as far back as he could remember, he'd
been searching for something, something he could never quite place but dangled
just outside of his reach. Maybe it was the burning desire in a pilot, the
thrill-seeking factor he'd experienced back in his youthful days flying swoops
in illegal races on Kuan. He wasn't sure if it was
here, in the New Imperium, where he'd find it. Not sure if this was the end of
his journey. But it was part of it.
The last slivers of bright orange slipped below the horizon, casting the
sky a beautiful red-orange, silhouetting the far-off clouds into a dark gray.
* * *
The
incessant beeping of his commlink brought Xar awake. "Lights," he
groaned. As the room brightened from pitch-blackness, he made out and reached
for the infernal machine. "Yes?"
The voice coming over the link sounded strained. "Very sorry to wake you, Mister Speaker, but an important matter
has come up. The Advisory Council has asked for you."
Xar stared incredulously at the device. "And what are they doing
awake at this hour?" He quickly glanced at the chronometer beside his bed
to make sure he hadn't overslept and made a fool out of himself. Seven o'clock. Still early for the Senate.
The voice at the other end of the link answered his question. "They need you in the meeting room,
sir. An Imperial Star Destroyer has just dropped out of hyperspace into
orbit."
"What?" Giving a muffled curse, Xar practically jolted out of
bed, momentarily forgetting that he wasn't in his usual bed on Varnus. His feet
hit the floor and he stood up, bumping his head into the canopy beam
overhanging the bed. "Ouch!"
"Sir?"
"Nothing," he replied flatly, holding his head with one hand.
"I will be right down."
Briefing Room
Senate
Hall
0725
Hours
Hurriedly
doing up the last two buttons on his jacket, Xar strode into the Advisory
Council's meeting chamber, which happened to be right adjacent to the Hall's
A hail of voices greeted him as he reached the table at one of the empty
spots and looked around at the members present. "Good morning,
gentlemen," he nodded. "I hear that someone has dropped in on us
uninvited." Opting not to take a seat with the rest, he stood and leaned
on the table with one hand, staring at the holoimage
floating above the tabletop. A full-color representation of the virgin blue
planet hung in the air, with small color-coded images of the planet's orbital
facilities, blue for civilian, green for military. A small red wedge, as large
as his thumb, was the newcomer, an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. As the image
rotated, another was projected beside it, a larger view of the ship and its
readouts.
"Here, have some caf," Walt Amason
offered him a cup of steaming liquid. "It’ll get you woken up."
Xar nodded and murmured his thanks. He needed to be awake for this.
"So, what have we here?" he asked aloud.