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| - Selu watched with relief as their ship—he’d learned its name was the Griffin—emerged from hyperspace. They were on the outskirts of the Mataou system for a navigational stop and what he hoped was a successful rendezvous with Sarth and Cassi. He also had an important decision to present to the rest of the insurgents that had escaped Darlyn Boda with them. It had been twenty hours since their escape, limping through hyperspace on their backup hyperdrive, and all hands had been needed just to man the ship, surviving on brief snatches of sleep and cold rations to eat. He hadn’t chosen to assert himself, making decisions alongside Atsedi and the others. At any rate, they were out of danger for the moment, and had some time to think beyond surviving the next hour. There was no sense putting off the discussion he needed to have with them, so Selu had asked Atsedi to gather the survivors, all twenty-eight of them, onto the bridge. They watched him expectantly. Most of them were still wearing the uniforms they had worn when the ship had been seized—either prisoner’s jumpsuits or Imperial uniforms, depending on where they had been for the seizure. Selu waited until the last man filed in, then addressed them. “We’re in the Matuou system,” he said. “My plan is not be here for very long.” Selu sensed some of them were about to speak up, but he continued on before they had a chance. “I know that I’m a virtual stranger to you. Fate threw us together against a common enemy, and we managed to escape, albeit at great cost.” Selu paused, letting his gaze sweep across the men. They were all hardened veterans, many of them experienced fighters or intelligence agents. They were soldiers, mercenaries, and spies who had seen and been through a lot. Platitudes and ideals would not resonate with them. They were pragmatists—but obviously loyal ones to have followed Romierr with such devotion. “Ardo Romierr and I had a deal—I’d help secure this ship, and he would provide my friends and me passage away from Darlyn Boda. As far as I’m concerned, we both held up our ends of the bargain. This ship, as far as I’m concerned, is yours. You took it, and you have the skills to man it. My companions and I are meeting up with some other friends in this system. It’s up to you what you do next.” Selu held up a hand to forestall any further speech. “That said, I have an offer,” he told them. “My friends and I are setting up a refuge on a distant world where the Empire won’t find us. I can’t say who it’s for or where it’ll be, but it will need defenders. Each of you has a particular set of skills that would be invaluable in that defense, and while Romierr left me with his datapad and assets, I can’t put them to full use by myself. I could use any of you who want to join me. If you’re interested, talk to me individually.” “That datapad and the assets on it belong to our organization,” one of them countered. “Why should you keep it?” Selu rested one hand casually on the hilt of his lightsaber, alert for trouble. “Because of the last wish of a dying man,” he said. “We have only your word for that,” the man replied. Selu frowned. “If I took it off Romierr’s body, then why do I know the access codes?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it have made more sense for Romierr to lock it so only one of you could open it if he didn’t want me to have it?” That silenced the complaint. “Look, I don’t blame you for not trusting me,” Selu said. “You don’t even know my name. If you want to take the ship and go, that’s fine. I won’t interfere. My friends and I will be gone within six hours. Just consider my offer—a chance at a new life and cause.” “Under you?” Atsedi asked. Selu nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “Any other questions?” “What about the Xi Charrians?” the first man asked. Selu frowned. “Xi Charrians?” Atsedi chuckled. “We have a collective of a couple hundred of them on the ship,” he said. “They were working for us, then the Empire took them prisoner when they captured Romierr. They’re engineers, designers, weaponsmiths. Built most of our tech for us. The Empire activated the magnetic seals on their confinement area and sealed them off when the insurrection started, or we would have had them helping us as well.” Selu’s eyes widened, astonished at this development. “Impressive,” he said. “I knew I sensed alien presences, but I never would have guessed Xi Charrians.” He shook his head, focusing on the present conversation. “They’ll have the same choice to make,” Selu added. “I’ll make them a similar offer. In the meantime, we should let them out of whatever cells the Empire had them in.” The newly-repaired comm terminal beeped to life. One of the insurgents moved over to it while another manned a sensor station. “We’re receiving an incoming transmission,” he reported. “It appears to be in code.” “Five ships approaching us,” the other stated. “They look like cargo ships.” The insurgents quickly moved to take their stations, preparing the ship in case of combat. It was heavily undermanned, but Selu knew they weren’t about to go down without a fight. He leaned over the comm terminal, scanning the coded transmission. He recognized the symbols as the numerical value for “hawk-bat,” repeated over and over again. “Stand down,” he told them. “Those are our friends.” One of the men, the skeptic who had asked him about Romierr’s datapad, shot Selu a suspicious look. “You’re not going to bring them all aboard, are you?” “No,” Selu answered, trying to put his mind at ease. “Just one small ship to pick us up. May I speak with them now?” The man begrudgingly nodded and Selu turned back to the comm terminal. Entering in one of the Hawk-bat’s encryption keys from memory, he was pleased to see that he had remembered it correctly. The transmission resolved itself into an eighth-sized holo of Sarth, seated in the pilot’s seat of the Hawk-bat. “Good to see you,” Selu said agreeably. “How was your trip?” “Surprisingly uneventful,” Sarth answered. “How was yours?” “Quite the opposite,” Selu replied ruefully. “We can talk about that more later. I see our friends from your destination decided to come along.” “Yes,” Sarth said, cracking a smile. “We did it.” “We have some friends of our own,” Selu told him. “Probably not as many, but they’re eager to meet the rest of you.” “And is that ship yours?” Sarth asked. “Not exactly. We’re just . . . hitching a ride,” Selu answered. “Bring the Hawk-bat in and we’ll transfer over. It’s only safe to be in this system for a few more hours.” “Understood,” Sarth said. “Sounds like we have a lot of stories to swap.” “Indeed,” Selu agreed, lowering his voice to a whisper. “And for now, I’m going by ‘Hawk-bat.’” Sarth shook his head. “You and your aliases,” he said. “We’ll see you soon.” The transmission ended, and Selu turned to the rest of the crew. “I’ll be in the galley shortly if any of you want to talk about my offer,” he said. “Pass the word along.” They all looked at him when he spoke, but he couldn’t read any of their faces or emotions well enough to perceive their intention. Selu hoped that some of them at least would consider his proposal—he could use their help if he was to drive the Empire off of Yanibar and defend the planet. However, after their harrowing ordeal on and over Darlyn Boda, he figured that any plan that got him, Milya, Spectre, and the Matukai safely onto the Hawk-bat and away with the Jal Shey would be good enough. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep going without rest. Infirmary Spectre sat by Milya’s bedside, keeping silent vigil. She was asleep and had been since the medical droids had brought her out from the surgical ward. Fresh bandages peeked out from beneath her medical gown, and she was still connected to monitoring devices and an intravenous line, but she at least seemed at peace. For that, Spectre was relieved. He had stayed here to keep an eye on Milya—and on Rothery and Taskien. The two Imperials had also received medical treatment and were likewise convalescing. Spectre had been here the entire time, a watchful guardian for Milya. Other casualties had been treated here as well, but there were surprisingly few. The fighting had been brutal—and without prompt treatment or means of summoning aid, many of the grievously wounded had perished. Two of the Matukai were posted guard over the other Imperial patients, but Spectre had remained as well. He knew that Selu could probably use his help, but he felt his place was here. The Jedi stopped by, having just finished his meeting with the crew. He moved into the screened-off ward, pushing aside the curtain just enough to slide in. “How is she?” Selu asked Spectre in a soft whisper. “Resting,” the ex-ARC murmured. Selu nodded. “She still feels strong,” he said encouragingly. “She’ll be up and kicking your butt in no time.” “I know,” Spectre replied with a faint trace of a smile. “I was supposed to protect her, but she ended up saving me. Twice, in fact.” Selu paused for a moment, reading the subtext in Spectre’s voice. The other man felt responsible, ashamed at his inability to do his duty, to protect the woman he loved. The guilt would wear away at him, and Selu knew that it wasn’t healthy. He had already lived through that scenario. “If the positions had been reversed, you would have done the same thing for her,” he said gently. “And you wouldn’t have wanted her to feel guilty over needing help.” Spectre considered that. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Don’t feel guilty, Spectre,” Selu told him. “You two were able to stop the Imperials together. You two make a good team.” It was Spectre’s turn to read deeper into what he was hearing. His gaze shifted from Milya to Selu. “Does that mean—?” Selu nodded. “Once we’re clear and Milya wakes up, I’ll make my intentions clear,” he said. “And those intentions are for you two to be happy.” Spectre nodded. “Thank you,” he said. Selu exhaled heavily. “You’re welcome, old friend,” he answered. “Now, I should probably head to the galley. See if I have any takers. Sarth and Cassi will be here within the hour.” “I’ll be here,” Spectre replied. “I just . . . want her to see a friendly face when she wakes up.” Selu placed his hand lightly on Spectre’s shoulder for a second, then turned and left. The ex-ARC stayed there for another twenty minutes, sitting quietly by Milya’s side. On an impulse, he took her hand in his, gently cradling the slim fingers. A few seconds later, she stirred, her eyes blinking open slowly as she took in her surroundings. “It’s all right,” Spectre assured her. “You’re safe.” “Infirmary?” she asked as she got her bearings. “That’s right.” She sat up in the bed, craning her neck to finish surveying her surroundings. “I assume we escaped?” she asked. “We did,” Spectre told her. “Sarth and Cassi will be here soon.” Milya frowned, slipping her hand away out from his. “Where’s Selu?” The gesture, combined with the words, struck Spectre as dismissive, a warning sign. “He was here earlier,” he told her. “He went to see if any of the crew are interested in joining us.” Milya nodded. “How are you feeling?” Spectre asked her. “I’m fine,” she said. He arched an eyebrow. “That’s surprising given what you went through,” he answered. “You were seriously injured.” She shifted under the blanket restlessly. “How long was I out?” Spectre didn’t even need to check his chrono. “About ten hours,” he said. “What happens next?” she asked. “We meet up with Sarth and Cassi, and then head for our new refuge world. Beyond that, I’m not sure what Selu specifically has in mind.” Milya’s eyebrows shot up. “You found a place?” “We did,” Spectre said. “Minor complication, it has an Imperial garrison, and it’s our only option. But Selu and I can handle it.” The mention of the Empire seemed to trigger some unsightly memory for Milya. “And are you okay with that?” she asked him. Spectre frowned, not understanding her meaning. “What does that mean?” Milya shook her head, glancing up at the ceiling. “Nothing.” “That’s not what you said,” Spectre countered. She kept her gaze on the ceiling for three long seconds, then took a deep breath and faced him. “You seemed to have some problems dealing with Miss Imperial Agent over there,” she said, her words coming fast and quick. “Seemed like you almost forgot which side she’s on.” Spectre’s expression blanked as he was caught offguard by her sudden verbal accusation. He struggled to come up with an articulate reply. “Roxana . . . she and I have . . . history,” Spectre tried to explain. “We knew each other during the war.” “Clearly,” Milya answered dryly. “She held a blaster on you, and you were trying to sweet-talk her.” “I was trying to persuade her to join us,” Spectre replied defensively. “Join us? Or join you,” she asked him. Spectre bristled, affronted by her words. “What are you implying?” he asked. Milya rolled her eyes. “Spectre, listen to me,” she said. “That woman is our enemy. She was going to shoot you, and you still saved her life.” “Isn’t that the Jedi way?” Milya’s eyes narrowed. “Convenient how that applies to one of your old paramours,” she told him. “Does Selu know about this?” “Know about what?” Milya gave him a firm, hard-edged look. “That you’re expressing sympathies towards an enemy combatant?” Spectre scowled. “I have fought and killed for this cause. Even fellow clone troopers, my blood brothers!” he snarled. “How dare you!” “They’re not your brothers,” Milya replied insistently. “They’re not your family, and neither is she. We are. I just hope you can still see that.” Spectre was now thoroughly riled. Disloyalty was one of the most egregious sins an ARC could ever commit. Having to hear that charge from both Taskien and Milya was too much. He clenched his fists, trying to rein in his anger. “Don’t talk to me about family,” he said darkly. “At least you had one for a while.” Milya stiffened. The loss of her family was a sensitive subject, and they both knew it. When next she spoke, her voice chilled a few dozen degrees. “I think it would be best if you left,” she said. It was not a suggestion. Spectre bit his lip, knowing he had clearly overstepped his bounds. He was filled with regret, realizing belatedly how much he had upset her. “Milya, I’m—,” She held up a hand. “Save it,” she told him. “Or give that apology to your Imperial friend.” Spectre started to say something, thought better of it, and walked away. Milya watched him leave with an icy, hardened expression. Only once he was safely out of sight did she allow her firm demeanor to soften. She had liked Spectre, had even envisioned herself with him, until earlier. Everything she knew about the man’s convictions and feelings had been cast into doubt in light of his interaction with the Imperial agent. Did he still have Imperial sympathies? Did he still harbor affections for this other woman? Was she as important to him as she needed him to be? Galley Selu sat at a table by himself, sipping from a mug of steaming hot caf. The bitter liquid was a welcome relief after hours of fighting, and then working feverishly to restore the damaged ship’s functions. He glanced at his chrono blearily. He had been awake for over thirty hours now and he was exhausted to the point where even sitting down was dangerous—he could fall asleep at any moment. The Jedi slouched down and stared into the mug as he considered his circumstances. He had experienced this kind of weariness before—during the Clone Wars. The demands of war had meant staying awake for often days on end, always ready to defend against an enemy attack, constantly on the move or alert for trouble. There was no time for luxuries like hot meals or sanisteams. Constantly coming down from adrenaline highs wreaked havoc on mental concentrations and the sights, sounds, and smells of the wounded or killed etched mental scars. War was a tiring, dirty, bloody, horrifying experience, and Selu did not remember those past battles fondly. Having to experience it again was equally distasteful, but here he was. At least this time he had hot caf. The sound of boots clacking across the smooth metal floor brought Selu’s head up to meet the arrival. Two men, Atsedi and Barin, that Selu recognized from the insurgent crew were approaching. Selu remembered that Barin had been the skeptic from earlier, while Atsedi had been more agreeable. Selu sat up as they stood across the table from him. “What can I do for you?” Selu asked. “We wanted to discuss your offer,” they said. “Of course,” Selu replied, gesturing for them to be seated. They sat and stared at him for a good three seconds. Finally, Atsedi broke the silence. “You made a very intriguing offer,” he said. “But what if some of us didn’t accept it?” Selu shrugged. “As I said, each crewmember is free to choose as they wish,” he replied. “If only a minority wasn’t interested in your offer, what would you expect would happen to this ship?” Selu kept his face impassive. “The ship is yours,” he said. “You would all have to come to an agreement on what to do with it.” Barin crossed his arms. “And what about the families of those who volunteered to join you? Romierr had plans, safehouses, and contacts. We can’t just leave that behind.” Selu gave him a thin smile. “I’m sure each one of you had already set up plans for them when you first joined Romierr on this heist,” he told Barin. “But if you’re asking if they would be welcome on our new refuge, the answer is yes.” Barin nodded. “What about your intentions towards the Empire?” Selu lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can guess that I’m not exactly a fan of the current administration,” he said. Barin leaned in closer. “But what’s your plan, your overall goal?” he asked. “We knew what Romierr was after—he wanted to bring down the Empire one world at a time, and to incite unrest that would encourage others to rise up against Palpatine’s iron grip. What do you want?” Selu considered the question. “Can you imagine how much trouble the Jedi Order would have given Palpatine if he hadn’t betrayed and executed the majority of them before they could react?” he asked. Atsedi nodded. “Like I said, I served with one during the Clone Wars. You’re very effective small-unit fighters—slippery too.” “I’m going to create a safe haven where we can rebuild the Jedi Order,” Selu said. “And include other groups with similar talents. When the time is right, we’ll take the fight to the Empire.” “That could take years,” Barin pointed out. “It probably will,” Selu answered. “So would Romierr’s plan. Palpatine no doubt plotted the demise of the Jedi and the Republic for decades. Anything worth doing takes time.” “And you have that kind of patience?” Selu’s expression hardened. “I still have the lightsabers of my two closest friends who died in my hands when we were betrayed,” he said, his tone now edged and ominous. “I’m not the forgetful type.” Barin nodded soberly, scratching at the stubble of his beard. “No, I suppose not,” he replied. Atsedi produced a datapad, laying it on the table in front of Selu. “Here,” he said. Selu picked up the device, scanning its contents. His eyes flashed back up to them in surprise. “All twenty-three of you?” he asked. Atsedi nodded. “We’re all in agreement,” the man replied. “They wanted us to make sure of a few final conditions, but with Romierr dead . . .” “You might be our best chance at living free and hitting back at the Empire,” Barin finished for him. Selu stood and shook each of their hands. “I’m grateful for your trust in me,” he said. “I can certainly use your help—this won’t be easy.” “How about starting with a ship?” Atsedi asked. “I can offer you a prototype Imperial transport and field resupply ship.” “I think I’ll take you up on that,” Selu replied. His comlink chirped, signaling that Sarth and Cassi were on final approach. “Some more of my friends are arriving,” he said. “I’m going to meet them in the landing bay. Atsedi—take charge of the ship and plot an outbound course, somewhere deep in the middle of nowhere. Send it to those other ships so they can follow. Then find another nearby habitable world so we can offload our Imperial prisoners. Barin, I need you to talk to the Xi Charrians. It’s up to them, but having them join us as well would be invaluable.” “Understood,” Atsedi said, with Barin nodding his concurrence. Selu rose and left, heading down through the Griffin. He passed through the battle-scarred corridors until he reached the port-side landing bay. The ship was eerily silent—many of the systems were still too damaged to reactivate, while the lack of crew meant he encountered nobody else along the way. As he reached the landing bay, he saw the familiar sight of the Hawk-bat settling in alongside wreckage of an Imperial shuttle. Selu breathed a sigh of relief simply upon seeing his ship once again. The freighter set down, outgassing as its engines powered down. A minute later, the boarding ramp lowered, and Sarth and Cassi emerged, making a beeline for Selu. “What happened here?” Sarth asked him. Selu shook his head. “Long story,” he said. “But I’m glad to see both of you.” “Where are Spectre and Milya?” Cassi asked. “Probably the infirmary,” Selu replied, then quickly added, “but they’re both okay.” “We were able to convince the Jal Shey,” Sarth reported. “Are you ready to leave?” “There’s been a change of plans,” Selu told him. “The ship and its crew are under my command now, along with about a dozen Matukai and a Zeison Sha warrior.” “You have been busy,” Sarth remarked. “Something like that.” Selu led them back towards the infirmary, filling them in as they walked. As they approached, his comlink chirped. “Barin here,” the man said. “I was able to find a translator droid and communicate with the Xi Charrians. They would like to speak with you.” “I’m on my way,” Selu replied. “I’d like to come too,” Sarth said. “I’ve never met a Xi Charrian.” “Me too,” Cassi piped up. The three made their way aft to the cargo hold where the Xi Charrians had been held. He was glad Sarth was with him—the Xi Charrians were renowned for their skills at engineering, and he hoped his brother would be able to find some common ground there. When they reached the aft hold, they found Barin standing in front of a sealed heavy blast door with a protocol droid alongside him. “We can communicate with them via the comm panel, but the controls are locked down,” he reported. “Looks like Doriana personally locked this, and it’s magnetically sealed.” Selu pondered the conundrum, then recalled that Doriana had used his command codes in the auxiliary bridge to arm the self-destruct in his attempt to seize the ship. The codes should still be usable—and his near-eidetic memory allowed him to recall the complex code. “I’m going in,” he said. “Wait here.” Selu frowned, visualizing the codes, and then walked over to the control panel, entering in the code. The doors groaned, then with a hiss and a shudder, slowly unlatched. As the heavy blast door to the hold slid open, Selu walked in calmly, even though he was quite apprehensive. Hundreds of insectoid aliens were inside, their chitinous plating rustling as they turned to observe the opening doors. The aliens’ attention was all immediately focused on him, or so it seemed, the red slits of their eyes focused on him. They began clicking to one another, apparently their form of speech, and Selu quickly beckoned the protocol droid forward. “You do speak Xi Charrian, right?” he asked. “Not in my original programming database, but I was reprogrammed to speak it for this mission. It’s not a standard language, as I’m sure you’re aware, Master.” Selu rolled his eyes at the garrulous droid. “Good enough. Tell them that we mean them no harm and ask to speak with their leader.” The droid complied, making a complex series of clicking noises that were painful to the ears, but apparently perfectly understandable to the Xi Charrians. Amidst the general bustle, a larger one of the aliens moved up on its scissor-like feet, so similar to the Vulture droids used by the Confederacy during the Clone Wars. The larger alien offered another series of clicks and chitters, which the droid translated for him. “This is the prelate, or leader. He speaks for this particular hive of Xi Charrians. They want to know who is speaking to them and why.” Selu hesitated. Ever since the downfall of the Jedi Order, he had been very careful to conceal his identity from everyone except his trusted friends and family. He wasn’t about to casually reveal that to a few hundred insectoid aliens whom he just met. Still, they deserved to know something. “Tell him that I am a Jedi Knight, and that he and his people are free now.” After another two choruses of Xi Charrian speech, the droid reported back. “They want to know why they should believe you.” “Because of this,” Selu said. With a flourish, he called his lightsaber to his hand telekinetically and lit it. If he hadn’t had the Xi Charrians’ attention before, he certainly had it now. “I am a Jedi,” he said loudly. “And with the death of Ardo Romierr, command of this ship has fallen to me. The Imperials on this ship have been defeated—Barin can confirm all of this for you. As for you, you and your people are free, free to return to Charros IV if you so desire, or you can come to a new refuge world we are settling, away from the Empire and under my protection. We would be honored to count members of the Xi Charrians as friends.” The droid translated again and the group of Xi Charrians buzzed and clicked amongst themselves until finally the incessant noise died down. “The prelate says that he and his people would prefer to stay with their liberator. They say that if you are willing to protect them, they would like to live away from the Empire. They say they’ve already suffered enough during the wars.” Selu was surprised to hear the answer. The Xi Charrians were reputed to be isolationist, paranoid, and xenophobic. But then again, this group had been working with Romierr for a long time, and were likely just grateful to be released from Imperial captivity. “Liberator, huh? Never thought I’d be doing that particular job.” Selu said, closing down his lightsaber and turning to Sarth and Cassi. He pivoted back. “Tell the Xi Charrians that we will do whatever we can to make them welcome at our new refuge. Ask them why they were captured, what the Empire wanted from them.” The droid went through the now familiar routine of translating both Selu’s words and then translating the prelate’s subsequent reply. “The prelate states that a human named Doriana wanted them to serve as workers on some Imperial project. They had no choice in the matter,” came the protocol droid’s mechanically precise words. “Tell him that we won’t require them to do any forced labor,” Selu said, wondering if such a concept existed in a society that revolved around endless perfectionism in one’s work. “Let them know that they are free to do as they please, as long as there is no conflict with the other inhabitants of the ship.” The droid did so, and received the prelate’s reply. “He thanks you for your words and the freedom you have given his people.” “Let him know that he and his people are very welcome,” Selu replied, then turned to Barin. “Stay here and work with them. Let them have run of the ship as long as they don’t wreck anything. I don’t think Xi Charrians are capable of destroying something mechanical, just improving it.” Barin nodded. Selu walked back out of the giant hold to Cassi and Sarth, who had been watching his interaction with the Xi Charrians from a distance. “How’d it go?” Sarth asked. “Surprisingly well,” Selu said. “I think we just gained some new neighbors.” “I thought this was supposed to be a refuge for Force exiles?” Cassi said. “They don’t feel Force-sensitive.” “They’re not, and neither are Romierr’s crew,” Selu replied. “But I thought about it, and there’s no reason why they can’t live there also, and they seem to want to. Besides, it could be handy to have a group of Xi Charrians around—no offense, Sarth.” “None taken,” he replied. “I’d like to get acquainted with them myself. I’m sure they have plenty I could learn from.” Selu’s comlink chirped again. “Atsedi here,” he heard. “Go ahead,” Selu replied. “We’re ready to make the jump to lightspeed. I’ve relayed the coordinates to the other ships and they’ve signaled their acknowledgment. Shall we jump?” “Do it,” Selu replied. “We don’t want to stay in one place too long.” Infirmary Cassi walked into the infirmary and headed over to the ward where Milya was lying. Entering through the curtain, she saw an older woman in a medical uniform standing besides Milya, checking the dressing on her shoulder. A stern-looking Falleen Matukai was keeping watch on the physician. Milya turned to see the new arrival. “Hey,” she said. “I thought I sensed you.” “Hi!” Cassi replied. “They told me I’d find you here. Is this a bad time?” “Can this wait until after I’ve finished?” Rothery asked mildly. “No,” Milya answered for her. “Come on in, Cassi.” Rothery scowled, but continued working. “Lie still, please,” Rothery instructed Milya. Milya rolled her eyes, but dutifully complied, shooting the doctor a quick glare. “What happened to you?” Cassi asked. “Caught the edge of a grenade blast,” Milya said. “Broke a bone or two, took some shrapnel, and earned a nasty headache.” “I’m glad it wasn’t worse,” Cassi replied concernedly. “You could have been killed.” Milya pursed her lips into a wry smile. “Occupational hazard,” she answered. “But keep an eye on the doctor for me.” “Why?” Cassi asked, confused. “And why the guard?” Milya’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s just say I have very good reasons.” Rothery did something to the bandage and Milya winced. “Doctor?” Cassi asked, confused. “What did you do?” Rothery stiffened. “I held a laser scalpel to her throat when it appeared there was a chance to retake the ship for the Empire. She’s taking it personally.” “Damn right I am,” Milya muttered. “If you don’t stop moving and let me work, that tendon might not heal,” Rothery cautioned her. Milya growled something inaudible, but let Rothery continue. “So why are you letting her treat you now?” Cassi asked. Milya started to say something, but Rothery held up a warning finger. The unhappy patient waited quietly while the doctor replied in her stead. “Microsurgery is a complex thing,” Rothery said. “The surgical droids on this ship are crude at best. They could keep her alive, but to fully repair the damage, you need a more . . . skilled physician.” “And why are you doing it?” Cassi asked. Rothery sniffed. “Because I’m a doctor,” she said. “It’s what I do.” “Even for your enemies?” Rothery paused to straighten and look directly at Cassi. “I’ve seen far too many torn apart by war to ignore someone I can help,” she replied. “That’s very noble of you,” Cassi said. “Or pragmatic,” Milya offered. “She treats me, maybe she buys herself a little lenience.” Rothery arched an eyebrow at Milya. “If you were going to kill me, you would have already done it,” she said. “You had your chance earlier.” Milya glowered, but she had no ready come back. “That’s not our way,” Cassi said before Milya could come up with some particularly ominous threat. “We don’t kill unless we have to.” “There’s a few hundred dead Imperials who might argue with that,” Rothery answered. “I wasn’t here for that,” Cassi replied. “I’m sure what happened here was horrible and brutal. I can’t change that. What I can affect is what happens next—and if I can prevent one more death, I’ll do it.” “One more death of your friends, you mean,” Rothery said. “No,” Cassi replied. “One more death, period. I’ve taken lives before, Doctor. And I hated it enough to never want to do it again.” “Me too,” Rothery said. “Then maybe we’re more alike than you might think,” Cassi answered. Rothery sniffed again. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m a loyal citizen of the Empire.” “So was I, not too long ago,” Cassi told her. “And then I saw where it was going, how it was led, how it treated people. You’ve probably seen that too.” Rothery stiffened. “Possibly,” she said. “We have another thing in common,” Cassi added. “We’ve both treated the same patient.” “Really?” Rothery asked. “Was she as difficult for you?” “Not even,” Milya replied sharply. “No,” Cassi said, trying to lighten the mood. “She was quite cooperative. It helps to feed her chocolate beforehand.” “Interesting,” Rothery mused with a hint of a smile. Milya scowled. “Hey, Cassi, I’m still here, and she’s still an Imperial doctor who tried to kill me.” “She could leave the Empire,” Cassi pointed out. “And I am your enemy,” Rothery reminded her. “You’re not my enemy,” Cassi told her. “My enemies don’t save my friends’ lives.” “Under duress.” “I was told you volunteered to treat her,” Cassi answered. “Doesn’t sound like duress to me.” Rothery bowed her head slightly in a conciliatory tone. “Maybe I did,” she said softly. “And maybe there’s something better for you than the Empire,” Cassi told her. “You could come with us.” Rothery shook her head. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “Just think about it,” Cassi replied. Rothery finished up with the dressing on Milya’s shoulder, checked the monitor, and then finally directed her gaze back to Cassi. “I have other patients to attend to,” she said. “I understand,” Cassi answered. The doctor slipped out of the ward, with the guard following. Milya frowned as Cassi moved over to her bedside. “What was that all about?” she asked. “Selu told me that the doctor saved your life,” Cassi said. “Shouldn’t that earn her a little consideration?” “I was thinking more along the lines of letting her live,” Milya answered dryly. “She has a good heart,” Cassi answered. “Pragmatic and jaded, but there’s nobility in her.” “Have you even talked that idea of yours over with Selu?” “No,” Cassi admitted. “I should have.” Milya sighed. “Let’s just forget about it,” she said. “She’s gone, you’re here, and hopefully I’ll be done with playing patient soon.” “I could try and help with that,” Cassi offered. “Force healing?” “I’m willing to try,” Cassi said. “If you want me to.” “Anything to get me on my feet faster,” Milya told her, then her tone softened. “Thank you for offering. I appreciate it.” “You’re welcome,” Cassi replied, placing her hands above Milya’s bandaged shoulder. She closed her eyes and began to concentrate on the Force. She felt its currents of power began to coalesce into something she could focus and channel into Milya. Unlike previously, she couldn’t just target the cells that felt wrong. Lacking the training and understanding of how to properly heal the wound, she had to amplify Milya’s body’s ability to heal itself. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned the cells working to repair the wound, restoring the tissues and muscles to full capability. The Force surged within her as she opened the connection with Milya, sending the healing energy into her friend. Milya gasped as Cassi poured Force power into her shoulder. “Am I hurting you?” Cassi asked, frowning in concentration as she tried to inflict further damage. “Keep going,” Milya said through gritted teeth. Though Cassi couldn’t see it, blue light was emanating from her hands, radiating into the injured shoulder, stimulating cellular regeneration and reproduction. The medical monitor began beeping more rapidly, but Cassi sensed the muscle fibers starting to knit back together and kept channeling as much Force power as she could, trusting her subconscious mind to guide and direct the currents in a beneficial fashion. The monitor’s beeping increased, and then suddenly subsided. Cassi’s eyes opened and she ceased her efforts. Milya seemed to be unconscious, but the monitor showed that her heartbeat and breathing were steady. “What did you do?” she heard a voice behind her. Cassi turned to see Rothery and Xlora standing at the entrance of the ward. The doctor was gaping at the sight of Milya, then recovered and began checking her over with a medisensor. “I have a gift for Force healing,” Cassi explained. “I tried to use it to help her.” “I don’t . . . think so,” Rothery said, visibly astonished. “I can’t explain it, but though her heart rate was up a minute ago, it seems to have gone back down. She’s in a resting state, but there’s increased blood flow to the injured area.” “I encouraged her body to heal her faster,” Cassi replied. “Your hands were glowing,” Rothery said. “Is that part of it as well?” “Seems to be,” Cassi answered, who was beginning to feel the fatigue sink in. “Whatever you did, it seems to be effective,” Rothery answered. “Tell me, Cassi. Would you use that power on an Imperial?” “If he’s hurt and I could help, I’d want to try,” Cassi told her. “Come with me, then,” Rothery said. “I’ve got a comatose man who keeps bleeding internally and the wounds won’t seal. He’s too traumatized for more surgery and I’d almost given up on him, but maybe . . . you can do something.” “All right,” Cassi answered, hoping she had enough strength to help the patient. Several minutes later, Cassi stood at the bedside of the wounded soldier, utterly drained, her strength sapped. She knew that the Force itself was infinite and limitless, but her own ability to focus and control it could be very taxing. Rothery, however, seemed quite satisfied. “Blood pressure isn’t fluctuating anymore,” she said. “I’m no longer seeing as much obvious bleeding. It’s not completely stopped, but it’s slowed appreciably.” “Does that mean he’ll live?” Cassi asked. “Maybe,” Rothery said. “But I’d give him a lot better chances that I would have fifteen minutes ago.” Cassi nodded. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, turning to go. “Cassi,” Rothery called after her. “Yes?” “Were you serious about the offer to leave the Empire?” Rothery asked. “I was,” Cassi said. “I’d have to talk it over with—with our leader.” “I understand,” Rothery answered. “Do you want to?” Rothery smiled thinly. “Let’s just say I’m thinking about it,” she said. Two days later Spectre wavered for the fifth time, not sure if he should approach her. The indecision was unlike him, but he wasn’t at all certain that having this conversation would be beneficial for either of them, particularly given what had already transpired between them. Yet part of him knew that he wasn’t likely to ever get another chance at this. Finally, he steeled himself and strode forward, walking past the Matukai guard into the ward. Agent Roxana Taskien looked up at him from the bed where she was sitting, wrists cuffed to the bedframe to restrain her. Her wounds had been treated and she had been well-tended, but Selu had also insisted on certain security measures. “I figured you would come,” she said. “Should I have?” he asked. She gave him a dubious look, then shook her head. “Probably not,” she answered. “I won’t talk. I can resist any interrogation or torture you care to try.” Spectre stiffened, insulted that she would insinuate such behavior from him. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” he said. “And I’m not here to extract information.” Her hardened expression softened for a moment, and she shook her head, giving him a small, hopeless smile. “Yes, you are,” she told him. “But you don’t want something from my mind. You want it from my heart.” Spectre understood, bowing his head in acknowledgment. “I suppose I do,” he admitted. “You want to know if I meant what I said earlier, about how I could never help a traitor,” she answered. “You want to know if I hate you.” “Do you?” Spectre asked softly. Her expression began to harden again. “I’d like not to,” she told him. “I’d like to believe that you’re not even here, that you would never betray the Empire.” “I was released from Imperial service,” Spectre told her. “I owe it nothing.” She glared angrily at him. “You owe everything to the Empire,” she said. “Your skills, your training, even your very life was because of the Empire and the Republic it replaced.” “The Republic and the Empire both saw me as a tool, a vat-grown soldier fit to fight and die in their wars and little else,” Spectre answered. “But you didn’t, did you? On Orin?” “I saw a man,” Taskien told him, her voice still hard-edged but increasingly brittle. “I saw a man fighting loyally for a cause he believed in with all of his heart, who would do anything to protect it. And I cannot believe that you are that same man.” “I am,” Spectre answered softly. “But now I fight for a different cause. A cause that cares about me and values me. Not what I do, or what my skillset it.” Taskien gave another nearly-imperceptible shake of her head. “Your cause is the antithesis of everything I stand for,” she said. “You were fighting alongside Separatists.” “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Spectre quoted the axiom. Taskien’s features blanked. “Then I suppose that makes us enemies,” she said flatly. “We don’t have to be,” Spectre tried, regretting the timing of his words. Taskien’s voice turned icy cold. “Whatever feelings I ever had for you, they will never trump my sworn duty,” she said. “They did on Orin,” Spectre replied. “Temporarily,” she snapped. “And if you think you can exploit that lapse of judgment again, you’re sorely mistaken.” “Roxana—,” Spectre pleaded. “I’m Imperial Agent Taskien. Service number Besh-Five-Oh-One-Four-Two-One-Nine-Four,” she answered stiffly. “And what of the man you loved on Orin?” Spectre asked, his voice thick with emotion as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of the words she was hurling at him. “He died during the Clone Wars,” she said, momentarily lapsing somewhat before recovering her resolve. “He died as a hero.” “Then who am I?” Spectre asked. She considered the question. “You’re an enemy of the Empire,” she said, a fresh fire in her eyes. “A traitor who deserves to be brought to Imperial justice.” Spectre took an involuntary step back, recoiling as if she had physically struck him. “I’m not your enemy, Roxana,” he said. “The feeling isn’t mutual,” she told him. “Do your worst, because one day, I’m going to see you face justice.” “Imperial justice isn’t what you think it is,” Spectre told him. “Apparently neither are you,” she shot back. “You are dead to me.” The words chilled Spectre to the bone. “I’m sorry, Roxana,” he said. “I’m just sorry you survived,” she replied. The sound of approaching footsteps curtailed any further reply Spectre might have made. The ex-ARC turned to see Selu, Sarth, Milya, Cassi, Daara, and five more Matukai, all armed, approaching. “What’s going on?” Spectre asked. “We’re getting rid of the prisoners,” Selu told him. “These are the last bunch.” “What’s happening to them?” Spectre inquired. Normally, he would have been filled in on Selu’s plan, but he had spent most of his time in the infirmary and was quite out of the loop, concerned first about Milya and then about Taskien. “We’re in the Anoat system and they have a one-way ticket there,” Selu explained. “On an escape pod. This far out, it’ll take them about a day to get there.” He moved over and un-cuffed Taskien. “You have a minute to get dressed,” he told her, placing a uniform at the foot of the bed. “Any longer and you’ll be making the trip in whatever I find you in.” Taskien met Selu’s gaze. “I’m going to hunt you down,” she told him. “You’re going to pay for the lives you took here.” Selu smirked, nonplussed. “Threats usually sound more impressive coming from someone who’s fully clothed,” Selu told her. “I suggest you not test my patience.” With that, he turned and left Taskien’s ward, pulling the curtain closed behind him and leaving one of the Matukai on guard outside. Spectre followed him, taking him aside. “Was that necessary?” he asked Selu. “She was a prisoner of war before Romierr’s men took over the ship.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Selu answered. “She was tortured,” Spectre added with a frown. “You don’t need to add to that.” Selu turned to face his friend, pulling him close. “Look, I know the two of you have history,” he said. “But considering that we treated her injuries, haven’t interrogated her, and, if she’s cooperative, might just let her walk to the escape pod with her pants on instead of a medical gown for the trip back to the Empire, I think we’ve been particularly accommodating under the circumstances.” “You’ve been talking to Milya, haven’t you?” “Briefly,” Selu said. “She’s worried about you, and so am I. What does this woman mean to you?” Spectre paused, then considered Taskien’s prior words. He had already broken with the Empire years earlier, but he had never expected to face her again. However, he knew ultimately where his loyalties were. He had made that decision, and now he would have to live with it. None of his prior affection towards Taskien could sway him from the Jedi path—not now. He was fully committed, and while he had hoped she would come around to his point of view, he could never envision himself leaving Selu and the rest of the Hawk-bat crew for her. It was too late for that, and too big of a sacrifice. “Nothing,” Spectre said. “Not anymore.” “Then let her go,” Selu told him. “Best case scenario, she returns to the Empire and you never see her again.” “She’ll hunt us.” Selu smiled. “She’ll try,” he said. Selu walked over to where Doctor Rothery and the other Imperial patients were waiting, guarded by another pair of Matukai. “It’s time for you to debark,” he said. “Those of your colleagues who were captured unharmed have already been jettisoned in escape pods. You’ll reach Anoat within a day. It’s not a very pleasant world, but it’s settled, and the Empire will find you—eventually.” “You’re letting us go?” Rothery asked. “That’s right,” Selu told her. The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” Selu shrugged. “Killing you isn’t the Jedi way, and I’m not going to hold you indefinitely. I can’t trust the Empire to make a reasonable trade for your lives. Might as well let you go.” He was met with hardened stares and a rigid silence. Selu waited a second longer, then gestured to the Matukai, who escorted them out. Agent Taskien emerged from her medical ward, wearing her uniform, and silently joined the prisoners. “Good bye, Roxana,” Spectre told her softly. She didn’t even make eye contact with him. Selu led the prisoners over to a series of escape pods, where they were ushered in, one by one. Rothery lingered until she was the last person remaining. “It’s time to go, Doctor,” Selu told her. “I understand,” she said. “Before you go,” Cassi spoke up suddenly. “I wanted to ask you one last time. Do you really want to return to the Empire?” Rothery snorted. “I didn’t think that was up to me,” she replied, nodding her head at Selu. “Cassi and I have discussed the matter,” Selu answered. “I had my reservations, but at the end of the day, two people vouched for you. That’s enough in my book.” “Two?” Rothery asked, her eyes shifting to Cassi. “Who was the other?” “Me,” Milya admitted. Rothery arched an eyebrow in surprise as Milya tried to deflect the attention she was suddenly receiving. “Maybe I’m grateful that you saved my life and treated me as well as you did,” she replied. “Enough to give you a second chance—as long as you stay away from me with a laser scalpel.” “I appreciate the respect,” Rothery said slowly, not sure how to take the compliment. “It could be more than that,” Selu told her. “We could use your assistance. A skilled surgeon could be invaluable.” Rothery frowned. “You have a good heart, Doctor. It’s wrapped under loyalty to the Empire and a strong sense of duty, but I can sense it.” Cassi added. Rothery arched an eyebrow at him, then, checking to make sure the other Imperials were out of earshot, nodded slowly. “You could have killed us all at any point,” she said. “You could have mistreated us, or denied us medical attention. You didn’t. You even helped me save a life.” “That’s not our way,” Selu told her. “The Empire would have used every bit of leverage, the same way as Romierr’s group did.” Selu smiled grimly. “They’re under new management,” he said. “And we’re hiring.” “I’m too old for this,” Rothery quipped. “And we could use your wisdom and insight,” Cassi told her. Rothery closed her eyes, then finally confessed. “The offer does have a certain appeal,” she admitted. “I don’t know how you knew, but you were right.” Selu sensed the sincerity in her voice. “We’re glad to have you onboard,” he said. “Even the woman I nearly killed?” Rothery asked with an amused smile. “Even the woman you saved,” Milya corrected. “And in time, I might forgive you for that other part.” He turned to the Sarth. “Seal and launch the escape pods,” he said. “Time to set the prisoners free.” Once it was carried out, Selu commed the bridge. “Make the jump to hyperspace,” Selu ordered. “It’s time we were getting back to our new home.”
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