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| - In space, no one can hear you complain... Laera Reyolé thought to herself as she stared out through the viewport. The familiar and soothing spatial properties of hyperspace, this time as normal as they ever were, lent an air of focus to her thoughts. This also allowed her to blow off some of the steam that had built up within her mind during the previous week's events. Bellinega T'Ledra was dead, as was her pupil turned nemesis Pelenora T'Yelc, and it seemed as though the crisis that had begun with her arrival on the hitherto undiscovered and undocumented world of T'lessia had finally been put to bed. The native Sa'ari were still coming to grips with the aftermath, but for them time was in abundance. She shifted her body within the comfortable, form-fitting chair, which besides the bunk bed set into the bulkhead was the only sitting space available in the small cabin. With a sigh she released the last of the mild indignation that had been stewing for the last half-hour, which she knew was another artifact of all the built-up emotions stirred up since their temporary exile had come to its rather unexpected and explosive end, which had begun with the Skywalkers' arrival in an inauspicious forest clearing. She didn't blame Luke and Ben; in fact, she was very grateful for their assistance and everything that had happened as a result. Because of their efforts, she could finally put her past behind her and move forward along the path the Force had set out for her...that twisted, winding dirt track of a road that was only occasionally beset by rockfalls, mudslides, slippery slopes and anti-personnel mines. The hatch hissed open, momentarily drawing her away from her introspection. Framed in the portal was the tall, somewhat lanky form of Silas Dan'kre, who had been her companion throughout these interesting times. Her companion as well as her lover, he regarded her with a lopsided grin. “You alright back here?” Laera didn't reply to his query at first. Instead she stood up, took the two steps to the hatchway, and gently drew the Bothan by the arm to sit with her on the ostensibly one-being lower bunk after pushing the top one back into its wall mount. “Never better,” she said with a slight purr, snaking her hand around his waist. “Now that we're finally in space, that is.” “I get the feeling you're happy to finally be off T'lessia,” Silas replied as he settled in, his tone and the twitching of his fur indicating that he knew full well how she was feeling. “What with everyone from Presidia T'Hakston on down trying to dig every little tidbit they possibly could from you about the Force...” “Orani is alright, for a politician,” Laera remarked with a slightly rueful air, giving him a sideways hug. “She's got a good head on her shoulders; Iper and Fua will have a good ally in her.” Before she had passed on to the Blue, or what the locals had until recently thought of as the Force, the Eldarch had appointed the lighters Iper T'Royc and Fua T'Ooro to replace herself and T'Yelc, respectively, as heads of the Order of the Blue Light. Both Laera and Silas had gotten to know the two maidens—Sa'ari in the first stage of their three-part life cycles—rather well during the day and a half they had spent working to oppose the late Youngarch's bid for power. Silas had been distrustful of them at first, but he had accepted the Skywalkers' and Laera's faith in their motives, motives which had been vindicated during the dramatic conclusion to the Sa'ari civil war. “You know what I find funny?” Silas asked into the silence. “How nearly all of them seemed to completely ignore Luke and Ben.” That drew a chuckle from Laera. “I get the feeling they're still not used to male 'Blue-users,' despite the fact that those two know far more about the Force than I ever will. I did my best, but they're just going to have to get used to the idea that I'm not that skilled or experienced as a Jedi.” Silas laughed. “And yet, they were just as happy to pick my brain as yours.” “As you demonstrated, you're far better at this political mambo-jumbo,” Laera teased, then her expression became sober. “What a mess.” “C'mon Laera, don't start down that road again,” Silas said reprovingly. He brought an arm around Laera's shoulder and offered a comforting squeeze. “I'm not talking about back then,” Laera sighed. “I mean all those meetings, celebratory balls, round-table discussions, and other diplomatic functions we got dragged into. I swear you got off easy; all you had to do was map out their species' political future, while they kept badgering me for the secrets of everything from 'that big glowing stick' I had to how T'Yelc did that power beam trick.” “At least Luke and Ben were open to sharing technical innovations,” Silas added. “But I think we did the right thing discouraging them from making contact with outside entities; they need to develop this stuff on their own.” Laera nodded in acknowledgment of his sentiment. Silas was referring, of course, to the ideas exchange the governor of Tal'adin had put on three days prior. This had been one of the few events that had not excluded the Skywalkers, either by accident or design; in fact they had been key figures in its success. By the end of the day's talks, Luke had provided basic plans for such things as repulsorlifts, ion engines, artificial gravity generators, shield generators, hypercomms and HoloNet beacons and buoys, and hyperdrive motivators. This was in addition to information on all the tools, resources, infrastructure and logistical support that would be necessary to replicate and fabricate such technology. All four of them had refused to share information on weapons tech and combat styles, though they had agreed to provide the Order with the necessary information regarding the crafting of lightsabers and holocrons, the most notable of Jedi tools. All of the files had been dutifully translated by HK-47. In exchange for them, the Foruma Lawyteret had agreed in a 203 to 9 vote to suspend all Sa'ari extrasolar exploration efforts for the foreseeable future—subject to the needs of the people, of course. “Yeah, I think you're right on that,” Laera said, then drew Silas into another hug. “I'm glad you're still here, you know.” “Where else could I be but with you?” he asked, and the two shared a kiss. Laera luxuriated in the moment as their lips met. It had been a blessed relief for her to be able to spend time alone with the man she loved, the Bothan who had so adroitly filled a gap in her life that she had never known existed before that fateful mission to capture a Sith Lord over Ord Mantell. During the past week they had been too exhausted to do much more than share a few thoughts, a quick meal, and perhaps some quiet time before having to succumb to sleep. Thus, there had been no time for her to begin Silas's training; her worry over this thought caused her to pull back. “I know that look,” Silas said, his gold-flecked violet eyes meeting Laera's deep blue ones. “You're worried about something.” Laera gave a halfhearted shrug. Their last order of business before leaving T'lessia had been to return to the Great Western Forest, this time escorted by Iper, Fua, and a cadre of lighters. With the Skywalkers and HK-47 remaining behind in the capital with their starship, the expedition had piled into a trio of Leeward-class helicopters for the journey out to the place where the Starborne Ones had lived in isolation. The two had wanted to return in order to gather their belongings, which had been left behind in the rush to investigate the ones who had guarded the Jade Shadow. What was supposed to have been a relatively simple fetch quest had quickly evolved into a full day of teaching the Eldarch, Youngarch, and their lighters—in addition to Silas, who seemed to be picking up on these tricks with astounding speed—in the Jedi way of practical Force-use. By the time they had returned, the sun had nearly finished its descent and the first of the planet's two moons had crested the far horizon. “I'm not sure,” Laera replied. “That little trek back to the forest was more fun than it should have been, but also more exhausting. You're picking up on these techniques really quickly, more quickly than I would have thought possible, even given Bellinega's parting gift.” Silas continued to gaze into her eyes, his head cocking from left to right. “That's not all, though.” “No, it isn't,” Laera admitted. “I also thought that you had wanted to go to Kothlis for your training, but now we're heading to Bothawui.” “Oh, I'm sure we'll be going there soon enough,” he replied with an offhand gesture. “However, I wanted to do a records search to check on what has become of my family and clan in the intervening centuries; I'd imagine you would want to do the same. That, and we really do need to re-register ourselves as galactic citizens and find a means by which to live.” “True enough,” Laera said with a resigned sigh. She massaged her forehead, batting a loose lock of auburn hair out of her face and tucking another behind her ear. “I keep forgetting about that great leap forward we took.” “You're actually able to forget?” Silas asked, mock incredulity thick in his voice. “Actually, that's not the only thing that's been slipping my mind lately,” she replied wearily, cradling her chin in her cupped hands as she leaned forward, Silas gently stroking her back. “I told Luke last night that I had been losing most of the memories of his life that I had rather forcefully pulled from his mind back at Little Agamar.” “I take it he was relieved?” “We both were, actually. I don't think Luke really liked the idea of me having seen his dirty laundry, and I certainly don't want to share his baggage. The only hitch is that I've also forgotten a lot of the details of galactic history that I yanked out, too.” Laera blew another sigh. “Beyond what tales we shared in that first day together, all I've got left is a basic overview of what's happened, and even that might not last for much longer.” “Then I was right to suggest Bothawui instead,” Silas said, moving on to massaging Laera's tightly-knotted shoulders. The sensation produced a calming effect in her, as he had intended, and she leaned into him. “The Bothan people have long prided themselves on being quick and efficient gatherers of information. There is no better place to seek out a detailed history of the galaxy than the Combined Clans Central Library in Drev'starm.” Despite the slightly depressive mood that had begun to coalesce in the small living space, Laera found herself smiling. “Was that a Jedi hunch, love?” Silas turned that over in his mind, then grinned at her. “Yes, I suppose it is. My very first one.” “It won't be your last,” Laera replied, deftly slipping back into teaching mode. “The Corps taught us to always trust our gut over our eyes, and that's one of many things they had in common with the Jedi Order.” “I look forward to finding out what else the two organizations had—what we have—in common.” “I'm sure you can stay your curiosity for a while,” Laera chided mock-seriously, snaking her way out from under Silas's arms. “First, it's time to rest; as much as I would love to talk with you some more about the Force, I'm still feeling the burn from that little retrieval operation...” — — — The voyage to Bothawui was astoundingly short, at least from the point of view of Laera and Silas. Thinking that it would have taken at least a couple of days, they had been asleep for only six hours when Ben Skywalker roused them, gently rapping on the hatchway to the guest quarters they shared. Bleary-eyed, Laera called out. “What's going on?” “We've arrived in orbit over Bothawui,” came the young man's voice, muffled by the durasteel hatch between the small room and the accessway. “Already?” Silas asked as he threw the covers from the top bunk and dropped to the deck. The two of them then began to hastily pull on clothes. “We're talking about a jump of several sectors here!” Having donned the lighter's uniform she had been given while staying with the Order of the Blue Light, which was the only garment she now possessed that was presentable on a civilized world, Laera triggered the entry hatch; Silas had thrown on the same clothes he had worn while staying at the monastery. Clad in a simple shipsuit, the younger Skywalker looked in on the pair with an amused expression. “Sorry, I guess we forgot to tell you,” he said, wearing one of those irritatingly smug grins that the very young seemed to have mastered. “This ship can go point five past lightspeed, and we've got a top-flight team of navigators.” “Liar,” Silas replied with a grin of his own. “If that's true, then—” His jaw dropped, and his train of thought collided rather heavily with reality as he recalled his own words from a week prior. “Well I'll be a nerf's behind.” “What was it you told me in the forest, while we were hunting for T'Yelc?” Ben reminded the Bothan, his smile broadening. Silas's eyes raked the interior with brighter eyes while the two of them followed the young Jedi Knight to the bridge area, as though only now fully appreciating the technological wonders that the Jade Shadow represented. After all, it took time to properly comprehend four millennia worth of technological advancement. Laera looked on with amusement as his aura flickered and twitched with renewed and vigorous curiosity. It was more fun for her this way, since she didn't have his technical expertise and couldn't tell an alluvial damper control matrix from a self-sealing stembolt. “We've just received landing clearance at Drev'starm Spaceport,” Luke informed them from the navigator's console as his son strode briskly toward the helm. Laera and Silas remained at the hatchway, leaning against opposing sides of its frame as they looked through the small cockpit's forward viewport. “We should be down within a few minutes.” “Then I guess this is where we say goodbye,” Laera said in a slightly throaty voice that was a mixture of gratefulness, anticipation, and a small hint of anxiety. She could have kept her emotions hidden and voice calm, of course, but it felt better to be honest around the Jedi Master. Even before having helped her and Silas in resolving the Sa'ari situation, Luke had earned her respect for the way he had refrained from holding her anger-fueled intrusion upon his mind against her. “It doesn't have to be this way, you know,” Luke replied with an earnest smile, standing up to regard his passengers. “I understand that you may need time to get back into the flow of civilization, but you will always have a place with the Jedi Order. For both of you, if you so desire.” Laera contemplated the deck for a moment before replying. She exchanged a poignant look with Silas, who shrugged in a we-can-work-this-out-later sort of way. She knew, without having to ask, that he was thinking and feeling the same thing she was. “Perhaps, Luke,” she said, her voice tense as though on the verge of breaking. “It has been a long and trying journey for all of us. Getting some closure will go a long way, I feel. Maybe once we...once we've settled in, we'll talk more about the future.” “Indeed it would, and I look forward to that eventuality,” the Jedi Master replied. “If you change your mind, however, and choose to join the Order, I can provide you with the means to contact those who would bring you to Coruscant from here. Once there, you can come to the Temple and meet the other Jedi. Perhaps you could even conduct your records search there. Tionne is an excellent archivist and very approachable.” “Thank you,” Laera and Silas said together, then looked at each other with tremulous smiles. “Sithspit, I'm terrible with goodbyes,” the Bothan continued. “I'm not much better at it,” Laera added, stroking Silas's chin fur before looking back toward the cockpit. “We really mean it, Luke, Ben. Thank you for...for everything.” — — — Five minutes later, the Jade Shadow was secure in Docking Bay 10-65K of the capital city's main spaceport. It was about midmorning local time, and Bothawui's sun was casting warm rays through the transparisteel viewport in Laera and Silas's temporary quarters. The two ex-Marines were hastily packing all of their possessions into two stout duffel bags, which had been provided by the Skywalkers. “What do you want to do first, Silas?” Laera asked as she cinched her bag closed and hefted it over her shoulder in a would-be casual sort of way. “See about joining the Alliance citizenry, or head for the Central Library?” Laera was just about to leave the room for the last time when she noticed that Silas had paused mid-move, holding his armor's left shoulder plate and appearing as though he were examining it intently. “Silas?” The Bothan reacted with a slight twitching of his ears before he looked back at Laera, then sheepishly he put the scratched and dinged component away and started haphazardly throwing the rest of his gear into the bag after it. “Sorry about that,” he said, shaking his head as though dislodging an annoying cobweb. “I doubt the Central Library would open its doors to a pair of temporal refugees without current identification, so we might as well head for whatever embassy there is first.” “I get the feeling we'll also need to stop at an antiquities merchant as well,” Laera put in as Silas hitched up his own duffel and followed her through the ship's companionway. “Some of this stuff is bound to fetch a few ready credits. We'll need them in order to restart our lives.” “And then we'll need to visit whatever central banking facilities have survived the millennia,” Silas added. “It's never a good idea to carry large amounts of hard currency in Drev'starm, or in any large city for that matter.” “You actually think our gear is worth that much?” Laera teased. Dropping her bag and posting her hands on her hips, she shot him a glare that silently informed him that he was telling her something she had figured out before he had even been born. “If not, we could always hock that holocron,” Silas said by way of retaliation. “Don't you even joke about that,” Laera retorted, putting in just enough genuine indignation to make Silas cringe at having broached the thought. The effect was softened by the slight bob of her head as she retrieved her bag and motioned for him to get going. Followed by HK-47's subdued clanking, the two made their way to the entry hatch without further comment, where they were met by Luke and Ben. “Last chance to change your mind,” Ben said cheekily as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn't mind another week of being ignored while lithe, tall blue women fawn all over you.” “Ha ha, I think you're just jealous,” Laera shot back, giving the young Knight a rueful smirk in return. “Thanks again for the lift, Luke. We owe you one.” “On the contrary,” the Jedi Master replied soberly. “It is we who owe you. With your help we were able to unlock more facets of the Jedi Order's history. Master Tionne already has your report on Vima Sunrider; she was very grateful for it and has assured me that this will open up new leads for investigation. And if any Sa'ari wish to venture forth from their homeworld and train as Jedi, we will be able to accommodate them properly.” “Thanks Luke, that's more than I deserve,” Laera said, then held out her comlink. “I think we'll take that information, just in case. It never hurts to have a fallback option.” “I know that feeling well,” Luke replied. He took the device and input the specific codes, then handed it back. “May the Force be with you both.” At his gesture, the hatchway hissed open and a gangplank lowered. A blast of warm and humid city air overpowered the cool dryness of the airlock, carrying with it the familiar scents and sounds of a busy spaceport. The five occupants regarded one another for a long moment, then finally they made their respective goodbyes. As Silas and Laera turned and descended the ramp, they clasped hands and strode toward the terminal, with a still-mute HK-47 clanking close behind them. The assassin droid had been uncharacteristically quiet and closed-off ever since he had been made privy to the fact that he could very well have become as obsolete as an ancient beam tube. What none of them saw, human or Bothan, organic or droid, was the faint azure blur as it sped forth from the yacht to hide in the meager shadows of the landing pit's walls.
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