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| - "I've put her into an accelerated healing trance," the elder Skywalker said, answering my unspoken question as my ears twitched tellingly. "Fortunately the hit wasn't that bad, she should be back up to speed within the hour." "I should have shot that wench when I had the chance," I replied in a growl, my violet eyes narrowed to slits and my ears drooping as I gazed at the rack upon which Laera had been set. "Now she's going to get away with it." "Don't blame yourself," Luke said bracingly as he placed a hand on my armored shoulder, but I shrugged it off. "We're inbound to Tal'adin City; we'll catch Pelenora before she can get to the Eldarch." The hatch hissed open and the two Sa'ari, T'Royc and T'Ooro, stood within its frame. "Is she going to be okay?" T'Royc asked, deep concern evident in her tone. "By the time we arrive, she will," Luke replied. "You have made the necessary arrangements?" "Yes," T'Ooro murmured grimly. "As far as the authorities know, the spacecraft's owners returned, boarded, and were subsequently subdued and the vessel is now scheduled to be impounded and examined. We have been cleared for landing at the central military aerospace complex; they do not seem to be aware of Officer T'Yelc's situation, and I did not see any reason to tell them." "That'll work," I agreed, tearing my eyes away from the reposing form of Laera and regarding the blue women. "As soon as we put down, we have to get to the monastery fast and warn Bellinega. Protecting her is our first priority, T'Yelc cannot make her move while the Eldarch still lives." "If you don't mind my saying so, you seem to have a good grasp of our politics," T'Royc put in as we left the tiny room and made our way to the ship's equally tiny cockpit, which vaguely resembled that of a starfighter. "You would make a good ambassador for our people if we were to join the wider galaxy." "I'm a Bothan," I replied simply. "Though I trained as a warrior, politics is the life blood of my species." The thought, expressed almost casually as though it should have been obvious, got me to thinking. These Sa'ari, these...lighters...had offered their services so freely upon witnessing the seeming betrayal of one of their own. Part of me—the part of my species that I knew had been bred for millennia—had immediately become suspicious of them and their assistance. T'Yelc was still so much an unknown quantity in my eyes; Laera had been the one to do all the research on the Order and its membership, not me, and I still had trouble wrapping my head around the convoluted nature of the bond between Eldarch and Youngarch. As if that wasn't enough, the only one who truly did understand was resting quietly on a cot. As we walked, I thumped a fist against my armored chest in frustration. The Skywalkers, of course, had cottoned on rather swiftly, as Jedi are wont to do. Some kind of Force thing, no doubt, but they had claimed to sense no duplicity within the pair; in fact, they seemed to think that both T'Royc and T'Ooro were quite strong and capable, worthy of our full trust. Outvoted, there had been little for me to do but nod a grudging acceptance and wait for something more concrete to present itself. Besides, this was their ship, and they had the final say. "It's the perfect plan," Luke said, drawing me out of my reverie. He took a seat at what I assumed was the navigator's station while his son resumed control of the helm. "If we accept that T'Yelc had already fallen by the time of Silas and Laera's arrival on-planet, she could have seen this as an opportunity to be exploited. It would have been simple for her to seek out allies in the Hiltonian military, manipulating them the same way she manipulated the Tal'adin Constabulary." "As the Youngarch, it would have been all too easy for her," T'Ooro confirmed. She and T'Royc were standing at the periphery of the control area; tall as they were, they had already had to take precautions lest they whack their heads on the upper hatchways. "We had no idea; those who hold that position typically stay within the Order's monasteries. Ordinary lighters like ourselves have the option to serve either openly or within whichever service organization we see fit." “Bellinega must have had a very good reason for having her work with law enforcement,” Ben said pensively. “In any case, I'm still confused about the whole sensor technology thing.” “It's like I said when we first arrived,” Luke replied. “It's the same technique used by the Jensaarai, but magnified a hundredfold. What Laera and Silas have told us makes this clear; it's a natural byproduct of the Sa'ari species' endemic Force-sensitivity.” “Who are these Jensaarai?” I asked, casting a glance out the forward viewport as the ship skimmed the treetops at high speed. “It's a Sith word for 'hidden followers of truth,'” Luke explained. “I first encountered them about thirty years ago while helping out a friend. They were an offshoot of Force-users who held to a mixture of Sith and Jedi ideology and, distrustful of outsiders, had devised ways of hiding themselves as a means of protection for both themselves and those with whom they lived.” I chose not to point out the similarity between the names of the rogue organization Luke mentioned and the species native to this planet. “Laera had called it a 'shroud' before,” I said instead. “But I've never heard of the Force being able to affect inorganic technology like that. Pushing buttons from across the room is one thing, but this...” “It can be done,” Luke advised, shaking his head ruefully. “My old Master once did it to my X-wing—that's a type of starfighter—scrambling my sensors and forcing me to land at a place of his choosing.” “Coming up on the Tal'adin City limits,” Ben muttered from his station. “Reducing speed; we should arrive at the base within a quarter hour.” “We are still unable to establish contact with the Eldarch,” T'Ooro said, a small hint of uncertainty in her voice. “T'Yelc could be flooding the Blue with diffused energy to befuddle direct probes, but it would take considerable effort to extend such mental fogging beyond her immediate location.” “Which means one of two things, both of them bad,” Ben said, scowling at the forward viewport. “Either T'Yelc is much more powerful than we thought, or else she's very close to her target.” “It has to be the former,” T'Royc said with the air of one clutching at straws. “We're arriving by starship, while T'Yelc fled on foot. Unless...” “...unless she was able to find her communicator and summon a helicopter,” I finished for her. “Any luck on the scanners?” “No,” Luke replied. “They're still flooded with static. While we're this close to a major population center, I can't even use the optical scopes.” “There's still something we could try,” I said, looking about the cockpit for a communications terminal. “If I can access your ship's comm system, I may be able to reactivate HK-47 and get a fix on his location. If he's anywhere nearby, he might be able to head T'Yelc off or buy us some time.” “Do it,” Luke said, pointing out a console to his left. “There might not be much time.” I glided over to what turned out to be the co-pilot's seat and, after a quick but thorough scan, slipped on an earpiece and began flipping switches in order to find a working carrier frequency. A soft beep indicated success. “End lockdown, authorization Bothawui Agamar.” There was a pause on the other end of the line before the droid's voice whispered in my ear. “Statement: HK-47 is online and ready to serve, Master. Observation: It has been approximately one hundred eighty-eight Standard days since my last activation, adjusted for planetary—” “Never mind that,” I snapped. “Give me a systems status and location check.” “Analysis: I am currently fully-functional, if a bit scratched-up from various failed attempts by a number of meatbags to access my inner workings,” the droid replied ruefully. “Observation: I seem to be sequestered in a small room along with various cleaning and maintenance supplies. If the labeling on the bottles is to be of any indication, I seem to have been placed in a custodian's closet within the Tal'adin monastery of the Order of the Blue Light.” My eyes flashed as I shot a meaningful look at the Skywalkers, then turned back to the comm unit. “HK-47, listen very carefully,” I whispered. “You must protect Eldarch Bellinega at all costs. Remove her from the monastery if you have to; in fact, it would be better that way. Do you understand?” “Affirmation: I understand, Master: protect the blue meatbag who leads the Order by any means necessary. Musing: Oh, I do hope someone tries to kill her, Master. It has been too long since I have been able to exercise my assassination protocols.” “Whatever it takes,” I ground out. “Be advised, we suspect that a Force-user is after her, so don't go looking for trouble.” “Correction: Master, that advice is quite unnecessary. Judging by your tone, trouble will most certainly be looking for me! Addendum: This is a quite satisfactory arrangement, if I may say so.” Without bothering to reply, I deactivated the transmission. “Well, at least one thing's gone right so far,” I said in a growl. “The assassin droid we came with was somehow smuggled back to the monastery. I've ordered him to protect Bellinega, extracting her from the place if he deems it necessary.” “Is that wise?” T'Royc asked hesitantly. “If his skills are half as good as his boasting, then T'Yelc will be hard-pressed to get to Bellinega before we intercept her,” I replied, a note of disgust creeping into my tone as I wrinkled my nose. “I don't know much about his capabilities, but by his own admission he and others like him were designed by Darth Revan himself.” Ben let out an appreciative whistle. “You didn't tell me that before.” “I didn't think it was relevant at the time.” “It wasn't,” said a strained female voice. “But now...Silas made the right call.” “Laera!” I nearly yelped, leaping from my seat as though it had been electrified. “You—you shouldn't be up yet!” “I'll manage, love,” she whispered as she approached me from the hatchway against which she had been leaning. “I'll be okay once we land, until then you'll have to do my thinking for me.” “You're always so full of surprises,” I replied in a low tone, patting Laera's shoulder and guiding her toward my seat, sharing it with her since no others were available in the cramped cockpit. The next several minutes passed in silence, the Jedi and Sa'ari concentrating on things well beyond my ken. With nothing else to do, I continued to monitor the comm in case HK-47 had anything new to report. Laera, true to her word, was staring blankly through the forward viewport, which now showed low residential buildings interspersed with roads and other paths that indicated we were flying over the suburban areas of Tal'adin City. The dawn's horizon was spiked with the towers and spires of the inner commercial and administrative districts, the early sun glinting off their polished glass sides as the translucent solar collectors drew in the day's first ergs of energy. The vessel banked lazily to port as we turned toward the aerospace complex, which was nestled on an artificial island in a lake just inside the city limits. Connected by a causeway, it was effectively isolated from the rest of the capital, its access easily restricted to a select few. “Setting her down,” Ben advised. “Looks like we've got a welcoming committee.” “We'll handle them,” T'Royc said. “Once we land, wait here; I'll signal you when we've secured transportation.” The younger Jedi brought the craft down at the indicated landing area, where a couple of official-looking groundcars and a heavy-duty military-grade ground-truck stood waiting for us. His landing was as smooth as silk; though impressive, to my mind such a display could have tipped off the waiting Sa'ari soldiers in any number of ways. After exchanging brief nods with the Skywalkers, T'Royc and T'Ooro left the bridge and headed for the exit. Their departure didn't do much to reassure me, and an uneasy feeling began to creep into my gut. “I've got a bad fee—” “Don't say it,” Laera whispered hoarsely. “You'll only jinx us.” I immediately shut my trap, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I fidgeted slightly. I had no idea how in space the lighters would manage to get our greeters out of the way, much less how they'd get us past the various base guards and to the monastery. Being the only Force-blind sentient on this planet was really starting to gnaw on my nerves, and for the first time in my life I found myself jealous of Laera Reyolé, of the Skywalkers, and indeed of everyone else in the galaxy. Fortunately, I was saved from having to suffer through yet more ruminations by the gentle beeping of the comm piece in my ear. “Report,” I hissed, just low enough for Laera to hear as I twiddled a dial and removed the device. “Statement: Master, I have found the Eldarch and informed her of my orders,” HK-47's voice hissed through the speaker. “Observation: I do not believe that she was happy to be roused by the likes of me, but she seems to have understood her predicament as you explained it.” “Is she with you now?” Laera asked, starting to sound like her normal self for the first time since the attack. “Affirmation: She is, and we are currently heading toward the supply dock. Exclamation: Master, she is now striking my chassis and demanding to speak with you!” “Then give her the kriffing comlink, you obsolete bucket of bolts!” Laera barked, causing the Skywalkers to stare back at her. There was a soft shuffling noise over the comm, then Bellinega's deeply-concerned voice whispered a question. “Who is after me?” “Pelenora T'Yelc,” Laera replied flatly. “She has succumbed to the blackness.” “That's impossible!” the Eldarch countered vehemently. “I would trust her with my life!” “I know it's not easy for you to accept,” Laera said bracingly yet firmly. “But right now you've got to trust that hulking metal monstrosity standing next to you because until we can link up, he's the only thing standing between you and the destruction of the Sa'ari people.” There was a short pause, interrupted only by the barely-audible clanking of the assassin droid's footsteps. “I can feel the truth in your words, but something is still not right,” Bellinega said, and there was a certain note to her voice that I didn't like. Laera seemed to recognize it as well, and we exchanged a meaningful glance. “There is some sort of interference in the Blue...” “It's the blackness,” Laera said, her tone brokering no argument. “The Youngarch is using your connection, your bond, against you, and is flooding the Blue with interference. Iper T'Royc and Fua T'Ooro were present when T'Yelc made her true self known, and tried to contact you themselves. They were unable to do so, and we're now...wait one.” Laera looked back toward the viewport as though she'd been drawn there by an invisible hook, then glanced toward the Skywalkers. “We're clear. Bellinega, stay with HK-47 and keep sharp, we're on our way!” — — — Despite the reek of the cramped alien...what was it they had called it? a starship...that still clung to my nose, I found myself smiling as I listened to the departure of the so-called Starborne Ones. Once the noise from their craft's strange engines had faded to silence, I pulled the backup sat-phone from my boot and activated it, speaking in a low, satisfied whisper. “Stage complete. Extraction requested.” They'd made quite a ruckus pursuing me through the undergrowth of the Great Western Forest, but their search had been in haste and less than thorough. Not that they could have ever found me even if I'd been standing right next to the boarding ramp; still, the niceties of the game had to be observed. I took the time to ponder the next step in the plan as I awaited the helicopter that would take me back to the small Hiltonian chapter house where I had set up shop, but at the same time a wistful thought occurred to me. It was of the alien who had called herself Reyolé that I mused, the woman who had once been so fascinating to me upon our first meeting—she had in fact been so intriguing that at that time I had very nearly forgotten my purpose in life. What had been that purpose, anyway? It hadn't been about control, not really, not at first. Many years ago, as I had gone about my service as a lighter, I had looked with starry-eyed wonderment upon the marvels of myself and my species, our homes and our homeworld. Even after knowing ourselves and our planet for so long, T'lessia and the surrounding, observable universe still managed to present us with surprises, something we didn't know. My people are natural explorers and problem-solvers, but sometimes we hit a boundary in our development, something that puts a chain around our ability to grow as a people. When Bellinega had appointed me to be her protégé, she had confided in me that the Sa'ari had hit such a barrier, that we were becoming stagnant. That was when I had found my purpose: to not just push that envelope, but to shatter it. The Sa'ari are not comfortable in stagnation, and while a single house might be passed from generation to generation for many centuries, the maidens must wander, the matrons must tend, and the matriarchs must lead. We are creatures of habit, even if we don't like to stay still. But the Sa'ari are also creatures of dichotomy. Though we're quite peaceful and friendly on the outside, that facade quickly evaporates when we feel as though we're being intruded upon. As a lighter I'd worked my share of mental and physical assault cases where the suspect had pleaded involuntary reactions to perceived outside influence, but nine times out of ten this had merely been an excuse, a fabrication. Shroud-crime—the unwelcome and oftentimes brutal penetration of another individual's mental barriers without their consent—was fairly rare in this age, but no less savage for that. When done sloppily, it usually kills the victim. Only a precisely-trained and skillful lighter can hope to pull off such a feat without inflicting some sort of damage, let alone without the victim's awareness. I had been so trained, and trained well. This, combined with my natural aptitude for mental perception and obfuscation, had and would continue to reap results. Soon we would have the power to venture into the galaxy and assert ourselves on new worlds—just as the Starborne One had suggested in her rather pompous speech to the Lawyteret so many cycles ago. Ah, Laera, what you think you know... I thought to myself as the fwip fwip fwip fwip of the Leeward-class helicopter's twin rotors overtook the sounds of the night. The machine was running silent, its lights extinguished and its speed reduced in order to evade detection, yet in the light of the stars and moons, I could see it quite plainly even without tapping into the sweetly dark scent of the Blue. Now over the clearing proper, the craft settled to within an uet of the grass that swirled in the downwash of the rotor blades that kept it aloft. Bowing low to avoid injury, I sprinted across the treeline and toward the side door that was opening expectantly, then climbed aboard. “All clear, proceed to the rendezvous,” I ordered after assuming a seat in the rear of the small passenger enclosure and donning a headset. “Keep it quiet, we're not in a hurry and detection at this point could ruin everything.” “You're absolutely sure that they're going for it?” asked a helmeted Sa'ari, who sat behind and between the two pilots, facing aft. “Fear not my friend, everything is under control,” I said, massaging my scalp as the craft lifted off. “All we need do is get to the monastery and initiate the broadcast.” The Sa'ari removed her helmet, and the luminous brown eyes of my own protégé smiled back at me. Ari T'Nok was only one hundred and ninety-three—almost a hundred years my junior—but for quite some time she had shown a keen aptitude for dissembling and intrigue, not to mention a great deal of power in the succulent nectar of the darkly-shaded Blue. I liked her, and I knew that one day she would surpass me, assume the role of Eldarch of the entire Sa'ari people, and lead us to glory as we venture forth from T'lessia and expand across the stars. But not for a great long while. There was much work to be done before my dynasty could begin. The war I had started had been regrettable but necessary, and there were many more things to do in order to ensure that my people were fully-recovered from it. I also had to find a way to acquire the other aliens' ship; Reyolé's own had been far too damaged in battle and by its crash-landing to yield much more than technology whose otherwise terrestrial applications could conceivably make it easier to colonize the moons and possibly T'loruk, the fourth planet in our solar system. Science had never been my strong suit, but I'd always made it a point to keep current with the latest ideas and technical trends. Unlike most of the Order, I had never been content with relying entirely upon the Blue, not even its more seductive aspects. And to beholden oneself to only one way of being, of knowing and learning and living, is to become stagnant—just as uninspired and insipid as that old plek'kak Bellinega. The helicopter entered a rain squall on the journey to Hiltone, which continued as we stopped for fuel at a small military outpost just beyond the frontier. The precipitation beat a steady tattoo against the metal skin of the craft's fuselage, causing me to begin fluttering my eyes as I fought against a sudden wave of drowsiness. While the pilot, copilot and crew chief attended to the machine's more mundane needs, I reposed in my seat. Ari took her leave as well in order to check up on our contacts in Tal'adin, leaving me momentarily alone with nothing but my thoughts to keep me warm in the early dawn chill. They'd called themselves Skywalkers, a poetic name when one considered how they'd gotten here. I found myself admiring how these Jedi, these...men...had calmly subordinated themselves to the original Starborne One, the one I'd made contact with so many months ago. Even the furry alien man was clearly beholden to her, though it was quite clear that this was a bond of an entirely different flavor, one that did not necessarily put one entity before the other. He had been the only one among them who did not resonate within the Blue's spectrum of energy—and yet, he was possessed of a power of a unique sort. “Man,” I muttered dully, trying once more to wrap my tongue and mind around the word and the notion it represented. “Man...and woman?” The Sa'ari were by no means ignorant of sexual reproduction, of course. All two hundred and seventy-nine species of wild and domesticated plek'kak procreated in this manner, with the smaller, sharp-horned example planting their seed into its larger, woolier counterpart. But such...means...had once been thought of as disgustingly base, almost alien, until the advance of science began to offer a rational explanation for why we were different. Though knowing the off-worlder language helped put the pieces together, the idea of sentient beings engaging in such animistic behavior still sent a chill up my spine. That was a concept that would keep, however. A smile spread across my lips as I nodded a silent acknowledgment of how incredibly useful the arrival of Reyolé and her lover had been to my plans. A plan that would have taken a century or more to come to fruition was now mere days away from being implemented. Even better, the most crucial aspect was being carried out by beings who would always be suspected, so that they would be unable to grasp at the whole truth, much less attempt to bring it to light on T'lessia. And yet, even as I lay fitfully in my seat and reveled in the impending success of my schemes, something niggled at my ridges like the wisps of an arachnid's web. I had let Reyolé into my mind, so that she would see what I had wanted her to see; despite the risk, it had been too great an opportunity to pass up, and it had worked better than I could have imagined. T'Royc and T'Ooro would be the perfect conduit, wrapped around my finger as they had been. The shock and anger they had expressed upon hearing the revelation of my true role had been delicious, but it had been even more so to cast Reyolé to the floor before dashing from that den of disease they had called a starship. And yet...something of her had seeped back into my own consciousness. Blurry pictures, as though seen from within her own head, flitted before my mind's eye, and I saw...things. My hands held a familiar yet unfamiliar ranged weapon, and I saw myself shooting other beings with it; then, my hands held a familiar yet unfamiliar melee weapon, whose blade of energy sliced through sentient beings as though they were made of plek'kak butter... “Her sword!” I shouted, just as the side door opened and Ari clamored back inside. “I beg your pardon, Youngarch?” Ari asked, momentarily nonplussed. “You weren't there...” I said, my earlier confidence vanishing in a cloud of dust. “Reyolé...the Starborne One...has an energy sword of some kind. So did the two who came in the starship. And they know how to use them.” “An...energy blade?” Ari asked. “But wouldn't that require an incredible amount of electrical power to maintain?” “You would think so,” I said, managing to grasp onto some semblance of dignity. “We know that they possess technology that is well beyond ours, it stands to reason that they can pack so much energy into a sword hilt.” “But that's not what troubles you, is it?” Ari asked, her eyes raking mine. “No,” I admitted. “What troubles me is the ease with which they handle such ethereal blades. They can, apparently, use them to deflect and even redirect the blasts of directed energy weapons. Which means...” “...that they can probably intercept and incinerate bullets,” Ari finished for me, and I nodded my approval of her assessment. “Precisely. And what is more, they command such power that they could easily project a kinetic barrier that would keep them safe from such forms of attack.” I glanced around the helicopter's interior for a moment, thinking. “Which means that we probably don't want to try and kill them...not yet.” “Agreed,” Ari replied. “And if we must eliminate them, then we do it through overwhelming force. At least a half-squadron of Monitor gunships if we catch them on foot, but if they're in their ship, we send every Ellipse interceptor under our control after them in a precisely-timed ambush.” I smiled at that pronouncement of death, issued as casually as if ordering lunch at a sidewalk venue. Gunships were smaller versions of the machine we presently occupied, with room only for a pilot and fire-control computer. They bristled with armament, from projectile cannons to unguided rockets to seeker missiles; some even included gas grenade dispensers for nonlethal crowd suppression. Our interceptors also carried seeker missiles in addition to rapid-fire cannons; while they might not be as fast as the aliens' starship, they were designed to fight within the atmosphere and do it well. We're a peaceful people, which means that when we make war, we make it big, loud, and so devastatingly effective that we don't soon feel the urge to do it again. Ironically, that thought gave me the most comfort yet. Even so, something about that brief connection with Reyolé still felt odd...
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