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| - “Under normal circumstances, I'd say there's no way that this would work,” Ben quipped quietly as he covered himself with one of the blankets in the back of the military ground-truck that the two lighters accompanying them had appropriated. Large enough to accommodate an entire platoon of human troopers, the frame over the rear compartment was covered in a canvas-like material dyed in dull, dark green that gave it the texture of vulcanized rubber. The floor itself was somewhat dirty from use, as were the blankets; they had been appropriated from a storage bin situated at the wall that separated the cargo bed from the drivers' section. The scent of bio-lubricants and dust lingered about the space, causing everyone to wrinkle their noses a bit, Silas in particular. “And these circumstances are anything but ordinary,” Luke agreed as he did the same. “Are you shut down tight?” “Don't worry about me, Dad,” Ben replied with mock indignation. “If Vergere's little trick could work on you, then it'll work on them just fine.” Luke smiled to himself at that. Up until now they'd been able to clamp down on their presence in the Force well enough using normal means, but infiltrating such a large population center as Tal'adin City called for a new and more effective approach. It had been a while since the Jedi Master had exercised the Fosh's technique, which she had affectionately dubbed “The Art of the Small,” but the knowledge had returned swiftly and Ben had already proven to be just as adept at it. Laera, on the other hand, had had to resort to the old tricks in order to hide both herself and Silas. But Luke had faith that her earlier dealings with the Sa'ari had taught her enough to manage. “Shh!” she hissed, twitching her own blanket as the truck's engine engaged. As the vehicle began to work its way through the aerospace complex toward the exit, the four fugitives did what they could to keep still despite the occasional bumps and shimmies. The ride wasn't at all like that of a landspeeder, something that neither Luke nor Ben particularly cared for. It was, they conceded, a necessary inconvenience brought on by the need to move reasonably quickly but also with discretion. T'Royc had managed to convince the Sa'ari soldiers that the so-called Starborne Ones had escaped confinement and abandoned ship about halfway through the journey from the forest, so they had returned to their barracks and left the truck for their use in returning to the monastery. It was a bold maneuver, but there was still the chance that someone would stop the truck and search it despite the lighters' assurances that they were above recrimination due to their status within Sa'ari society. The ride continued uninterrupted for several long minutes, the noise and vibrations reminding the passengers of the fact that it had been a full day and a half since they had last slept. Eventually, the truck came to a halt, and voices could be heard coming from the front compartment and what must be a guard station at the base's main gate. Unfortunately, they were speaking in the Sa'ari language. “What are they saying?” Ben whispered from underneath his blanket. “Shh!” Laera hissed back. The conversation ended on a decidedly ungentle note from the truck's cab, and the vehicle continued onward shortly thereafter. “Apparently someone forgot to inform the gate guards of our arrival,” Laera whispered five minutes later. “T'Royc had to do some fast talking to get us through; lighters don't usually use these kinds of vehicles.” “Will anyone think it strange to see a military ground vehicle going to the monastery?” Luke asked. “Possibly, but doubtful,” Silas replied. “Like any other large establishment on T'lessia, our destination has a secluded loading dock for offloading supplies. Deliveries can happen at all hours of the day.” “Sometimes the military would bring in a truckload of trainees,” Laera added in an undertone. “The Order used to coordinate with the special forces branches of the various republics' militaries for training, but in the wake of the recent war that arrangement has likely been changed or even terminated.” “So basically, we're dependent on no one noticing,” Ben whispered ruefully. “Pretty much,” Silas replied. “And even if someone did see the truck, it is unlikely they'd find it noteworthy.” “Relax kid, the hard part's over,” Laera whispered, covering herself back up. Half an hour later, the truck began to emit a series of loud beeps, rousing everyone from the torpor they'd fallen into. “What is that noise?” Luke hissed, concerned. “We must have arrived at the monastery,” Silas replied, his voice rising to normal as he shook himself fully awake. “That beeping just means the truck is backing up, it's a safety measure to ensure no one gets caught unawares and run over.” As the Bothan rose from the floor of the truck's aft compartment, the vehicle stopped and the sound of doors opening and closing in the cab could be heard. “We're clear,” the muffled voice of T'Ooro said from just outside the rear egress. Throwing off their coverings, Luke, Ben, Laera and Silas exited the truck swiftly but silently. They trotted out of the compartment and right onto the dock itself, the two Jedi brushing copious amounts of dust from their clothing as they picked their way forward. The rear entrance to the monastery was dark save for a single floodlight that bathed the area in a soft orange glow, and the large loading door, made of what looked like corrugated durasteel, was closed. However, a small secondary entrance was open, and the six arrivals could just barely glimpse the shadowy forms of the assassin droid and Eldarch Bellinega. The elder Sa'ari wasted no time in assessing the situation, and crossed the distance between them in three long strides. “Laera, Silas, it is good to see you again,” she said, her sense broadcasting relief as she grasped each of their hands in turn. “I do not recognize these...men...that you bring with you.” “Please forgive me for this unexpected turn of events, Eldarch,” Laera replied, sketching a bow before indicating her companions. “This is Luke Skywalker and his son, Ben. They are off-worlders like myself, but they are also Jedi Knights trained in the Force.” Bellinega turned back to face the pair of lighters and spoke, her tone almost pleading. “Is it true what Laera says, Iper?” “I'm afraid so, Eldarch,” T'Royc replied somberly. “T'Yelc attacked her before fleeing, and in doing so revealed her true self. She has indeed succumbed to the blackness.” “But how could this have happened?” Bellinega asked, still unsure whether or not she believed what had transpired. “She has served us faithfully for so long...” “Forgive me Eldarch, but I may have an idea why,” Luke said tentatively, stepping forward. “I have been told that your concept of 'the Blue' is fundamentally similar to our notion of the Force. Given that, it stands to reason that your idea of 'the blackness' is similar to our concept of the dark side.” “Yes, that is correct,” Bellinega replied. “Laera explained this to me many months ago when we exchanged ideas and information about T'lessia and the outside universe.” Luke nodded sagely. “Then you should know that one does not 'fall' overnight, or after one single act. It is possible that Pelenora T'Yelc has been planning this moment for some time, maybe even years. Given your species' long lifespans, I would not be surprised to learn that she had begun her plotting long before I was even born, and I am in my mid-sixties.” “That's about six hundred years in terms of Sa'ari maturity,” Laera added at the Eldarch's confused look. “My species typically lives for only a tenth of your lifespan.” Bellinega paced the loading dock in silent contemplation of Luke and Laera's words, her sense in the Force buzzing with agitation despite her efforts at maintaining a facade of tranquility. “But why would she come after me?” “Because you are the Eldarch and she is the Youngarch,” Silas explained. “It is an ancient truth that the fastest way to ascend in any hierarchy is to eliminate the person above you. All she has to do is convince the T'lessian people that your death was from natural causes; once that is accomplished, she will be free to spread her influence throughout your world.” “And with no one to contest her claim, there is little doubt that her truth will become accepted,” Laera put in. “But if you still don't believe me, then peer into my mind and see the truth for yourself...” — — — At Laera's invitation, I was finally able to summon the will to cease my nervous strides and focus on the current situation. Rubbing my temples in an old ritual known to boost concentration, I closed my eyes and followed the currents of the Blue into the willing mind of the Starborne One. I had done this before—many times, in fact—but it had been so many months since she and her companion had been forced to flee the monastery that it was a struggle to remember how. The mental pathways of her species were very different than those of the average Sa'ari; adapting and overcoming these differences had been one of the most challenging tasks of my life. After an eternity that must have seemed like only a moment to the others, I was able to rebuild the bridge between our minds. Images from her time in the Great Western Forest spread before me like a panorama. Through her eyes I witnessed snippets and vignettes of their trek into the wilderness, their construction of a home within the bole of a great tuskwood, their first encounter with these new visitors, and what they discussed in their meetings. As I watched, new questions bounded into my thoughts, threatening to distract me from what needed to be done; it was obvious now that there was much more to Laera than she had ever told me. Such was the urgency of her warning, however, that I was forced to put such thoughts aside. Eventually I came upon the encounter with Pelenora, Iper and Fua in the shadow of the starship that had first arrived only two days before. The scene that played out before me left me feeling incredulous, as though this was surely some sort of clever trick or charade. But even as the blurred image of my protégé bolted from the meeting space, it became clear that even if Laera had wanted to alter the image, any revisions would have been obvious and false even to my mind. This realization hit me as though a great stone had been hurled into my abdomen, and I nearly doubled over as the anguish of betrayal washed over me. Iper and Fua, sensing my agony, dashed to my side to lend their support. “Thank you,” I said huskily as, with their aid, I managed to pull myself back together. “This...is most unsettling.” At that point, the walking assassin machine spoke up, his rasping hiss of a voice grating on my already frayed nerves. “Observation: Master, perhaps we should endeavor to place some distance between ourselves and the monastery. There is a ninety-seven percent probability that whoever seeks to harm the Eldarch will concentrate their initial efforts on this location.” “Agreed,” said Laera's furry companion as he looked back at the military vehicle in which the group had arrived. “We are limited on options, however. Unless, of course, the Eldarch knows of another secret hideaway.” “I taught T'Yelc everything she knows,” I said after a moment of silence, disgust in my voice. “And though I had not yet taught her everything I know, she does possess enough knowledge that there is nowhere on T'lessia that I could go where she would not eventually find me. I trusted her with everything, including my life...” “Don't blame yourself,” Laera offered. “The Force knows there's enough of that to go around. Until we can figure a way out of this mess, it might be best if we got the Skywalkers' ship back and headed for space.” “No! I will not be driven off my own planet!” I said, defiance suddenly blazing within my soul. A feeling of anger such as I had not known in centuries was coursing through me like a poison, my skin puckering with barely-suppressed outrage. “T'Yelc will answer for her betrayal!” “Yes, she will,” said the one called Luke as he extended a calming hand toward me. “But be mindful of your own feelings, Eldarch. Revenge will taint you as surely as the lust for power has tainted your student...” “...and the blackness fed upon it as the fuz'ta beetle consumes the harvest,” I said, quoting an ancient parable. “Leaving an oily stink in its wake upon which no plant would grow.” Silence descended upon the loading dock as the sun continued to rise, persisting for quite some time. Only the extinguishing of the safety light brought us out of our mutual contemplations, and it was again the infernal automaton that shattered the quiet. “Query: Master, are you familiar with the aphorism of 'hiding in plain sight'?” Everyone began staring at the machine in astonishment, and I had to admit to myself that there was something to what it had said. But it wasn't finished yet. “Statement: I am primarily an assassination droid, but I was also designed to serve as a protocol unit. Explanation: This serves a number of useful, if demeaning, purposes. You see, most meatbags tend to dismiss a humble protocol droid as furniture, not worth noticing. That is, of course, until the 'furniture' pulls out a high-powered blaster carbine and points it at its owner's head. Admission: This technique has allowed me to terminate seventeen meatbags thus far, without anyone being any the wiser.” Iper and Fua were looking at the machine with utter revulsion, appalled at the way it spoke so casually about inflicting death and destruction. “Excuse me, but did that thing just refer to us as 'meatbags'?” Fua asked. “You get used to it,” Laera replied, her arms folded over her armored chest and her face contorted in a snarl. “I'm assuming you're going somewhere with this, HK-47?” “Statement: Indeed, Master. Observation: My experiences and my programming agree: both Jedi and Sith are notoriously short-sighted when one is able to hinder their ability to detect potential threats using the Force. If the psychology of the average Sa'ari is anything like that of your Force-wielding brethren, then all you need to do to survive is impede their ability to locate and isolate you through this medium. Once you have done that, simply paint yourself blue, wear a hood, and proceed about the city at your discretion. They will be none the wiser.” There was another moment of silence, then the youngest off-worlder began to snort as though an insect had flown up his nasal cavity. This soon erupted into gales of laughter, which carried on for quite some time before he was able to regain control. “Forgive me, but I fail to see the humor in this machine's words,” I said, bristling with annoyance. “It's so simple,” he replied, smiling broadly. “All we have to do is shroud ourselves, like your people do, and they won't even think to try and pierce our veils. If we do it right, T'Yelc's minions could sweep Tal'adin City for the next ten years and they would never find us.” “Affirmation: Insofar as my intention, the young meatbag is correct, Master.” “Are you suggesting that we pose as Sa'ari?” Laera asked, a smile spreading upon her visage as well—a smile that was, despite the circumstances, infectious, and I found myself having to fight to maintain some semblance of dignity. “Not that I have a problem with that,” she continued. “We can't just stay indoors forever, and that still leaves the matter of the Skywalkers' ship.” “Now wait just a minute,” the young Skywalker said, pointing an indignant finger at the Starborne One. “I am not putting on a fake set of—” “You won't have to,” the elder newcomer replied, holding a placating hand in the air. “If I understand the technique properly, then we would need to disguise our faces only, and that will be enough for us to make our way through the city.” “I don't suppose any of you have considered my role in this little scheme?” the furred man replied, broadcasting a feeling of being distinctly put out. “Not only am I unable to shroud myself, but my anatomy is rather different from that of both your species.” The Skywalkers exchanged glances with each other and Laera in turn. I glanced at Silas, sensing his increasing irritation. “Even if it is possible for some of us to venture into the streets, it might not be advisable for me to do so,” I suggested. “In any event, I must confess that I would rather prefer to have a living bodyguard in addition to this...machine.” “Whatever we do, we better get a move on,” Laera said, reaching out to hold her companion's hand. “Is there some other form of transport that we could commandeer without notice?” “Yes, my personal vehicle,” I replied. “I have not used it in nearly half a century, so it is unlikely to be recognized immediately. That should do until we can secure a hiding place...” — — — Everything seemed to be going apace once we had all piled into Eldarch Bellinega's groundcar. Her attempts to assuage my continuing irritation by asking for me to guard her were only partially successful. While it solved one potential problem, it created another. Namely, what in space I, as the only non-Force user on this planet, was going to do while stuck in one place yet again. The vehicle itself was obviously of significant age, but it seemed to run well and was large enough to hold all of us in something approaching comfort, including HK-47; this was largely due to the fact that the average Sa'ari was significantly taller than either humans or Bothans. The passenger compartment's windows were tinted, and both lighters sat in the front row of seats with their hoods up. Iper T'Royc, who was driving, took a furtive course through the city center and into the suburbs. As the sun approached its zenith, the car made a turn into a forested residential area and began to slowly snake its way through a neighborhood of medium-sized houses. “Where are you taking us?” I asked her as she pulled the car onto yet another side street. “My great aunt's house,” she answered. “She died a few years back, but the property has been vacant for some time and its contents unclaimed; her daughter inherited it but she had already emigrated to another republic. T'Yelc might eventually think to look here, but since the house is listed as unoccupied...” “...then we can hide ourselves without attracting attention,” Luke finished for her. “At least for a while.” “Yes. That will give me time to contact the owner and arrange a sale under a false name.” I arched a confused eyebrow at the lighter. “If the owner is your great aunt's daughter, wouldn't that mean she's your mother's sister?” “No,” Iper replied simply. “I am only two hundred and thirteen T'lessian years old. My great aunt was one thousand and seven when she died. Our generations are forty years long, that is the age at which we are able to conceive and bear children. Because of this, family trees can become quite tall and mothers can live to see their offspring produce many additional branches.” “How does your species avoid overpopulation?” Luke inquired. “If you can live for a millennium or more, and yet reproduce so quickly, how has your world not become overwhelmed?” As the Jedi Master finished his question, however, the car pulled into the driveway of a violet-colored residence, the central dome attached to a smaller one whose wide door opened at Fua T'Ooro's beckoning gesture. The vehicle barely fit; indeed, Iper was forced to park it in at an angle so that the door could be closed again. Once it was secured, the garage was plunged into semidarkness, with only a small side window allowing daylight in. “Thankfully, most of this neighborhood's residents are away at their jobs or attending school,” Fua said as we piled out. “Only three saw us, and I was able to successfully wipe their memories for the appropriate number of seconds.” “Excellent work, Fua,” Bellinega said, touching her shoulder. “Iper, how soon can you contact your relation?” “I can have her on the vid-link within a few minutes,” she said, crossing to the doorway into the house itself. “However, I think it best that we postpone any outside contact for the moment. The Starborne Ones need rest, and we must also assess the situation and come up with contingency plans, false identities, and a means to support ourselves that will not draw attention.” “G-g-good thinking...” I said, trying and failing to suppress an enormous yawn. The plates of my armor clinked as I stretched my arms and legs, trying to work out the kinks that had developed from riding in the military truck and then Bellinega's groundcar. “Pardon me.” Laera did the same thing, her motions a bit more graceful than my own. “Thank you, Iper,” she said. “You have risked much on our behalf, and we are grateful.” The lighter gave a slight bow. “It is not so much a risk as you yourselves have taken,” she replied, her tone slightly abashed. “In revealing T'Yelc's duplicity, you have earned our trust along with the respect that you already possess.” “Iper is correct,” Bellinega put in. “We owe you much, Starborne One.” “You don't owe me,” Laera replied. “If anything, I owe you and the Sa'ari people. The war was all my fault, a result of my own misjudgment and arrogance. I'm no diplomat, and I should have realized that sooner.” “Laera, you are tired, hurt, and badly in need of rest,” I said, moving to join her and offering a comforting hand. “Continuing to blame yourself will not help your condition or stop T'Yelc.” “Your companion is correct,” Iper added. “Rest now; we will have food prepared by the time you awaken. Come, and I will show you to a suitable room.” As Fua and Bellinega put their heads together to exchange quiet words, I and the three humans followed the elder lighter through the door into the main residence while the assassin droid remained behind to keep vigil over the Eldarch. The décor inside was subtle yet tasteful, reflecting the fact that a woman of great age had lived here. Though the exposed darkly-stained wooden furniture was a bit dusty, its general appearance was in good order, and it went well with the polished wooden floor and walls and white stucco ceilings. The main room's seating was protected by dust-covers, with a large and ornate entertainment center hugging the curvature of the wall. Its doors were closed; if this house was like most, then behind them had been placed a large viewscreen and sound system for audiovisual programs. Between the main room and a well-appointed kitchen and dining room stood a wooden spiral staircase, which led to two upper floors and a sealed hatchway in the flat ceiling. Though the house had obviously been uninhabited for some time, the air within wasn't stale; a faint scent of aged hardwood competed with a subtle flowery aroma. “What's beyond that hatch?” Ben asked Iper as we began to ascend the stairs. “Our homes are domed for a reason,” she replied. “The upper space above is devoted to a dwelling's power source, which is a combination of solar paneling and micro-wind generators along the outside and the appropriate wiring and insulation within. This allows our homes to be largely self-sufficient, connected only by the need for waste disposal.” “But what's on the inside?” I asked, my curiosity piqued even as fatigue began to gnaw at the edges of my mind. “We use the room within as storage,” Iper said as she guided us off the stairs and onto the third floor. “However, many homes have windows in the dome for stargazing, particularly those owned by persons who have family in the Order. Observing the night skies is something of a ritual for my people, it allows us to connect as families while acknowledging that we are not alone in the universe. Luke and Ben, you will have this room.” The lighter nodded and indicated a door to the staircase's left. After a grateful acknowledgment, the two Skywalkers opened it and entered, closing it with a gentle snap. “This other room belonged to my great-aunt and her bondmate,” Iper said, nodding again. “If you require anything, please let either myself or Fua know.” “Thank you,” Laera replied, returning the nod. As the lighter descended the stairs once again, I opened the door and entered. The room inside was dusty like the rest of the house, its floor carpeted in a pattern that resembled the grain of the wood used in the interior on the first floor. A semicircle in shape, it was quite airy; large openings had been carved into the wall that bathed the room in light. Immediately across from the door was a large bed, protected by a dust-cover, with pillows placed in a large hamper beside it. Each side of the room was furnished identically, with a chest of drawers and clothes cabinet curving along the wall and nestled between the artfully-mullioned windows. The effect was quite grand, and it seemed to be quite fitting for a family matriarch. “It's beautiful,” I remarked as I began removing the protective cover from the bed. “This whole house is beautiful,” Laera replied, a doleful look on her face. “I wonder how many houses like this were destroyed in the war.” I had begun to distribute pillows when she said this. Driven perhaps by nerves, exhaustion, or simple annoyance, I took the one held in my hand and slapped her over the head with it. “What in Chaos is the matter with you?” I barked, throwing the pillow onto the bed and grabbing Laera's elbows. “You were all grit and gundarks when we were heading back into the city to extract Bellinega, but now you're moping like a raw recruit pining for hearth and home!” “I don't know,” she replied hesitantly. “It feels as though we forgot something in our rush to get to the monastery. Something very important.” “What could possibly be so crucial as to make you do such a one-eighty?” I shot back. “I've never seen you like this, not even when we thought that Revan had been killed—” “That's it!” Laera gasped, breaking away from me and heading toward the door. “Revan's holocron, we left it aboard Luke's ship! We need to get that thing back so I can see what was on it!” Exhausted and nearing my breaking point, I nevertheless managed to cross the distance quicker than her and blocked the way out. “No,” I said, my voice diamond-hard. “You—we—need to rest! We're tired and not thinking clearly, and that means we're vulnerable to rash decisions and stupid mistakes!” I reached out and took her face in my hands, continuing in a far gentler tone. “We'll ask the Jedi about this holocron after we've put in a solid eight hours, I promise.” The sudden burst of energy within Laera seemed to flicker and die, and she collapsed into my arms. I guided her toward the bed, both of us shedding armor plates as we shuffled closer, until we were clad only in our faded and worn body gloves. We zipped one another out, then oozed underneath the covers and closed our eyes. Sleep came almost instantly.
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