Happy May the 4th!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Galactic Justice Center
“Is Girdun back yet?”
Lon Shevu lifted his eyes to look at the young freckled man standing before him at the front desk. “Not that I know of, Lekauf,” he replied as he looked back down at his work.
“I heard that you guys brought in a someone important,” Jori Lekauf went on, not picking up on the dismissal in his superior officer’s tone. “Braxon even suggested that it might have been a Jedi.”
“Don’t you have work you need to get to, lieutenant?”
“I’m on break.” Jori then placed his elbow on Shevu’s desk and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Do you ever stop to think about just exactly what it is we’re doing?”
Shevu sighed as he shook his head. Jori was a well-meaning kid, but sometimes Shevu felt that he was a bit too outspoken and optimistic for this kind of work. His cynical side felt that the only reason the kid got as far as he did was because his grandfather had been a high-ranking officer in the Empire and even served as a clone template. Given that the Centrists and other figures with more pro-Imperial leanings had gained prominence in recent years, it made sense that someone like Jori would be pushed into the spotlight thanks to his family’s history.
“We have a job to do and we do it,” Shevu said simply. “That’s all there is to it.”
Jori raised an eyebrow. “Is it? Come on, captain, everyone has to have their limits. Even you. Everyone’s got a line in the sand that they need to draw.”
Shevu huffed exasperatedly as he slumped back in his chair, giving Jori a weary look. “Where are you going with this, Lekauf?”
Jori glanced around. The two of them were alone in the office at the moment, thanks to it being the night shift, but anyone could walk in on them at any moment—including Girdun himself.
“My grandfather was about my age when he served the Empire,” he then said quietly. “He even worked as an aide for Darth Vader himself.”
“I am aware of this. Your family’s history is on file.”
“But do you know what my grandfather did for Vader?” Jori pressed on. “He helped the Empire hunt down the Jedi, because they were seen as traitors. Then the civil war happened and people’s views shifted. Now the Jedi were seen as heroes and allies of the restored Republic. And now… now we’re arresting them? Does that not seem strange to you?”
Shevu stared back at the younger man, chewing on his lip. “It’s not my job to judge,” he said carefully. “Besides, rogue Jedi are a thing. Maybe this one stepped out of line and was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.”
“You were the one who led the arrest, weren’t you?” Jori asked. “What exactly was he doing?”
Shevu opened his mouth, ready to reprimand Jori for sticking his nose in matters that weren’t his concern, when the door to the office opened to allow a pair of guards inside. Each of them was holding a restrained captive—both female humans, one with violet hair, the other with red—and they brought them before Shevu’s desk.
“Look what we found in the underlevels,” said one of the guards, a gruff man by the sound of the voice coming from behind his masked helmet.
Shevu looked from one captured woman to the next. “You’ll have to fill me in,” he said.
“This one’s Vixen,” said the guard holding the violet-haired woman. “A woman wanted for the murder of Jon Skip. Also has ties to the Malvis Cabal.”
“And this is Alyson Dorn,” said the man holding the red-haired woman. “A wanted bounty hunter, also with ties to the Cabal.”
“Huh. Good work.” Shevu pressed a button under his desk to open a nearby door. “Go ahead and take them in to be processed. I’ll let Director Girdun know about this.”
“Oh, Girdun doesn’t need to know about this. Just let us in and we’ll be on our way.”
Shevu frowned at the peculiar tone in the man’s voice. For some reason, he felt compelled to echo back the words and let these two guards through without sending any word to Girdun. But that went against protocol, and it wouldn’t make sense for him to do that. Plus, why would this guard—whom Shevu didn’t even recognize—want him to do that in the first place?
As soon as realization dawned on him, he hit the button to alert Director Girdun. Before he could even speak, the guard drew a baton and slammed it into his face, sending him into darkness.
* * *
Toah gasped as the headset was pulled off of his head and he collapsed forward onto the interrogation table. Through the haze of pain and confusion, he could make out Girdun pacing back and forth in front of him, talking to another figure standing in the room.
“Send as many officers as you can to the front desk!” Girdun was ordering them. “Find out what happened to Shevu and secure the perimeter! No one gets in or out on my watch!”
While the other officer left the room to carry out his orders, Toah stirred and Girdun snapped his attention back to him, his face twisted into an ugly sneer.
“It would appear your friends have come to rescue you,” Girdun growled.
“That’s what happens when you arrest a Jedi,” Toah mumbled back. “Bad things happen.”
“Which is why the whole galaxy would be much better off without the whole lot of you.”
With that remark, Girdun turned to leave the interrogation room, his hand mere centimeters away from the door controls. Suddenly, he stopped before slowly turning his head over his shoulder to look back at Toah, his dark eyes narrowed.
“In fact,” he murmured, “why don’t we start the cleansing by getting rid of one?”
He turned away from the door and started to walk over to Toah, drawing a blaster from its holster. There was a crazed look in his eyes, bordering on gleeful, as his mouth split open into a nasty grin.
“Your death would be easy enough to cover up,” he said. “The blame can always be pinned on someone else… or, maybe no one even has to know about this.”
He raised the blaster and leveled it at Toah’s head. Toah simply stared back at him, unconcerned by the blaster as his eyes bored into Girdun’s.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Toah said.
Girdun snorted. “Why not? It would certainly make things a lot easier for all of us.”
He pulled the trigger and the blaster went off. At that instant, Toah mustered enough strength to call upon the Force and wrench Girdun’s arm upward, causing the plasma bolt to sear into the wall above Toah’s head. Taking advantage of Girdun’s momentary confusion, Toah gathered all of his energy to push the table with the Force and send it crashing into Girdun, pushing him against the wall with enough force to knock him out cold.
Toah braced himself for guards to come rushing back to the room upon hearing the commotion, but none came. Apparently whatever was happening elsewhere in the building was really keeping them occupied. Taking a deep breath, Toah focused his attention on the shackles around his wrists and ankles. The sonic headset they had forced onto him had scrambled his senses, although not quite enough to wholly ruin his connection to the Force (the table-flattened Girdun was already proof enough of that). He just needed to concentrate properly to work the shackles off his hands and feet, provided that no one and nothing came by the room to interrupt his concentration.
Unfortunately, such an interruption came when a loud siren began to wail all across the facility. Sighing in frustration, Toah took a moment to recompose himself before attempting to free himself again.
“Oh my. What an unfortunate predicament you’ve found yourself in.”
Toah’s eyes snapped open, immediately searching for the source of the voice, but there was no one else in the room with him besides the unconscious Girdun.
“How narrow-minded. Surely a great Jedi such as yourself should know by now that physical presence is not always required to have a conversation.”
Toah’s heart skipped a beat as his body seized up. His mouth was dry as he forced himself to say the name of the man speaking in his mind.
“Vorath.”
“Jarsan. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I apologize for not reaching out to you sooner, back on Naboo. I was… preoccupied with other matters.”
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“I should be, shouldn't I? To be honest with you, even I am not sure how I have returned. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it a proper resurrection; my spirit has been restored, but I am forced to possess the body of my grandson. At least your old master got his body back in the process….”
Toah closed his eyes, clenching his fists as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “How much of this is your doing? The Malvis Cabal, the First Order… how much influence have you had over any of this?”
“Hardly any,” Vorath dryly responded. “The First Order was the doing of a former accomplice of mine, but his ambition evidently went well beyond my own. As for the Cabal… oh, have you not pieced it together yet?”
“Pieced what together?” Toah asked.
The ancient Sith Lord chuckled in his mind. “Credit where it is due, even I was blind to how layered his schemes were. Admittedly, I was focused on my own plans at the time…. Still, I cannot help but be impressed.”
Toah scowled. “Are you ever going to give me a straight answer, or are you just going to keep on talking cryptically? Why are you even speaking to me in the first place?”
“Oh, it’s not you I’ve come to speak to. You were simply nearby and I thought it would be nice to catch up. No, I’ve come for the one who is here to rescue you. The one I’ve summoned here to rescue you.”
Toah’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t be so obtuse, Jarsan. I know you know about her. I have for quite some time.”
Suddenly, Toah heard the sound of a lightsaber being ignited, followed by blasters being fired. Each shot was deflected and he heard bodies falling to the floor or being knocked against the wall. Those sounds grew louder as whatever was making them made its way closer to the room he was in.
“And soon… she will be mine.”
Toah moved with a start as a yellow blade of energy pierced through the door and slid its way down, cutting through the lock mechanism and forcing the door open. Standing there on the other end was a young woman with black hair, clad in the uniform of an Alliance guard as she gripped the yellow-bladed lightsaber tightly with both hands.
“Hey,” Sare Valrisa said. “Remember me?”
Toah said nothing at first as he stood up, holding out his hands for her to cut the shackles off his wrists. Once she had taken care of the ones around his ankles, he put a hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him with confused dark eyes.
“Listen to me,” he said carefully. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Uh, can it wait?” Valrisa said. “We’re still not out of the woods yet.”
“We won’t be until I’ve told you what you need to hear,” Toah insisted. “You need to know the truth. About your parents.”
Valrisa stared back at him incredulously. “How do you know anything about my parents? Hell, I only know about my mother; I don’t even know who my father is.”
“I do,” Toah said. “And I know who your real mother is.”
Valrisa stepped away from him, continuing to eye him warily. “The Dowager is—was my mother,” she murmured.
“No. She stole you from your real mother. The same mother who tried to bring you back to her on Ord Mantell.”
Valrisa closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” Toah said calmly. “Search your feelings. Queen Kestora—Danielle Kieran—is your mother….”
He could sense her building apprehension, her refusal to believe what she was hearing. Nonetheless, he forced himself to say the words she needed to hear.
“…and I am your father.”
“And that,” the voice of Vorath interjected, “is how you do a family reunion.”
Valrisa stared at Toah, her mouth hanging open in shock. Before she had a chance to form a single word, another figure in an Alliance guard uniform—this one wielding a red-bladed lightsaber—appeared in the open doorway.
“Are you two ready?” Zarin Kal asked. “We need to get out of here. The Renegade is waiting outside.”
Valrisa did not seemed to have heard him, still staring at Toah with a mixture of emotions. He considered putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder but thought better of it, instead nodding his head.
“We will discuss this later,” he said quietly. “Let’s move.”
Valrisa seemed to hesitate for a moment before reluctantly nodding back and leading him out of the room, following Zarin as they made their way through the Galactic Justice Center.
* * *
“Blast it, guys. Where are you?”
Kyla gritted her teeth as she piloted the Renegade to circle the Galactic Justice Center once more, keeping an eye on the roof. Gunships continued to circle around the freighter, firing on them as they tried to apprehend the larger ship. Wiskin and Typha were on the guns, but Kyla had given them explicit directions to not shoot any of the gunships down. The last thing they needed was the entire Defense Force on their rear ends. Instead, the two were simply firing warning shots to scare off the gunships, whose pilots likely knew that a single blast from the freighter could bring them down. Even so, she knew it was only a matter of time before the Guard brought in the big guns; then they really would be in trouble.
Down below, she saw some Guards running out of the building, their blasters aimed at the Renegade. Before they could fire, a young man with a long vest came out from behind them and took them out with dual wielding blasters. He then looked up at the Renegade, gave them a quick salute, and ran off into the dark streets of Coruscant.
“I wonder who that was,” Ace murmured beside her.
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Looking over her shoulder, Kyla said to Bedo, “Any word from Zarin and Valrisa?”
“They say they’ve got Toah,” the Ortolan replied from the comm station. “They’re heading up to the rooftop right now.”
“Good, ‘cos I don’t know how much longer I can shake these guys off.”
After the Renegade had completed another lap around the building, Kyla spotted an opening on the rooftop from which Zarin and Valrisa were emerging, accompanied by Toah and their two “captives.” Kyla dove the ship down and lowered the landing ramp as she brought the Renegade as close to the rooftop as she could. Zarin allowed Valrisa and Toah to run ahead of him, turning around to deflect blaster bolts coming from Alliance guards that came through the opening after them. While Valrisa and Toah quickly got onto the ship, Vixen and Dorn lingered behind, watching Zarin as he held off the guards.
“What are you waiting for?” Valrisa called from the ramp. “Let’s go!”
In the blink of an eye, Dorn unsheathed a vibroknife and plunged it into Zarin’s back. The Kiffar cried out in pain as he fell to his knees, still holding onto his lightsaber. As Valrisa cried out, Toah moved to come to his fellow Jedi’s rescue only for Vixen to draw a blaster and begin firing on them. A stray shot hit the controls of the Renegade’s landing ramp and it immediately began to close up, sealing them off from their fallen comrade.
“Lower the ramp!” Valrisa called out to the cockpit. “We need to save Zarin!”
“I don’t know how much longer we can hold out here!” Kyla called back. “These guys are swarming around us and they just keep coming!”
Despite Valrisa’s continued protests, the Renegade began to move away from the rooftop, drawing the gunships’ attention away from Zarin. Peering out the cockpit, Kyla saw the Kiffar ex-Jedi still on his knees, his lightsaber now in the hands of Alyson Dorn as she held it up to his neck. The guards had stopped firing on them and did not seem as if they were about to arrest either Dorn or Vixen. Almost as if their presence was welcomed….
“We need to leave,” Kyla said quietly.
“I mean, theoretically, we should, but—” Ace started to say.
“No, I’m serious. We need to leave Coruscant. I think we’ve all been played.”
“That’s certainly what those two ladies were alluding to.”
Kyla shook her head. “I think it runs deeper than what those two were talking about. Maybe even deeper than what they are aware of.”
Ace looked at her, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. “I get the feeling you’re about to suggest something….”
“We need to go to Ord Talavos,” Kyla said. “We need to bring an end to this charade, once and for all.”
* * *
As the Renegade flew off into the night sky, Zarin Kal sat calmly on the rooftop of the Galactic Justice Center, grateful that the others had wisely escaped when they could rather than try and rescue them. He almost forgot about the scarlet lightsaber blade that was behind held at his neck by the red-haired woman standing behind him.
“I know you’re not deaf,” Alyson Dorn hissed into his ear. “Now tell me: where is my sister?”
“What makes you think I know where your sister is?” Zarin quietly replied.
“You were a Jedi, weren’t you? You were there when Ossus was attacked. My sister must have been as well. Is she dead? Is she hiding with the rest of your kind? Tell me!”
“Natia is no longer a Jedi,” Zarin sighed. “She fell to the dark side and was indoctrinated by a Sith cult. I know not where they reside now or if they’re even still alive.”
“You know this and yet have done nothing to save her?” Dorn spat at the floor in front of Zarin. “You Jedi make me sick.”
“I am no longer a Jedi.”
“Whatever.” Releasing him, Dorn stepped away from the Kiffar and shut off his lightsaber, attaching it to her belt. Nodding to the Alliance guards in front of her, she said, “He’s all yours now.”
“Thanks,” grunted a Tholothian guard. While his partners moved in to apprehend Zarin, he directed his attention to Vixen. “You can be assured that this incident will be left off your record. I understand that Senator Naberrie holds you in… high regard.”
Vixen smiled thinly. “You can add Generals Thaal and Jaxton to that list, but yes.”
Dorn scoffed as she shook her head. “You are a real piece of work.”
“You have your profession, I have mine.”
As the guards hoisted Zarin up to his feet, Vixen walked over to the Kiffar and pressed herself against him, putting a hand on the back of his neck as she brought her lips close to his ear. Zarin braced himself for an unwanted kiss but instead she merely whispered a single word into his ear.
“Sedratis.”
With that, she pulled away from him, sliding her hands down his armored chest, and sauntered away. Zarin eyed her warily as the guards escorted him back into the building, not looking away until the doors closed behind him and he saw her no more.
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