Blood of Heroes, Part XVI
Posted: 2004-10-14 05:35pm
It was a dark and stormy night. Then again, it was Ferenginar, so every night was a dark and stormy night. Even the days tended to be dark and stormy. But most of all, it seemed that Gorren's mood was darker and stormier than all of them.
Everywhere Sebastian and his Klingon companion went, it seemed the Ferengi were trying to sell them something... or someone. Within twenty minutes Gorren's patience had worn thin and it was all Sebastian could do to keep his friend from disemboweling a street vendor as an example. Nevertheless, Gorren's growl seemed to make the point clear enough, and the Ferengi seemed to get the point. Overall, though, there wasn't too much to worry about. A Klingon who tolerated Ferengi irritation would probably attract more attention than one who bristled at their antics.
With all his connections, Sebastian had never made his way to Ferenginar before. For some reason, it had never been necessary, despite their connections to the underworld. In the end, the Ferengi weren't the type to rebel against the Empire; they had too much to lose compared to the gain. That's what mattered to them: a cost-benefit anaylsis. A Ferengi who was worth more credits for himself dead than alive was perhaps the closest they ever got to a moral dilemma. Well, a dilemma at any rate. Still, Sebastian had experience forming connections, and with the list of contacts he had from Volgo Terraine, this wasn't going to be as difficult as it had been on other places. Qo'nos had been the hardest and, well, look what he'd accomplished there. Well, the world was in open revolt, but it wasn't because of him. Well, not directly, just... kriff, was his life ever depressing. The rain didn't exactly help.
The two turned the corner and headed towards the entertainment district of the city. As expected, the Ferengi seemed to go overboard on this idea, but given the weather, it wasn't surprising. With skill honed from experience, the two found their way to the right club without in any way indicating it was their destination all along. Information brokers often kept an eye on the visitors, and it was best not to attract their attention if it could be avoided. Sebastian didn't know the name, nor did he care; odds are it was one of those tasteless jokes that was about as funny as a kidney stone.
One of the many bridges that the union of the two galaxies had to overcome was related to an unexpected issue. Because of some factor in the ancient primordial past of this galaxy, it was possible to crossbreed between sentient species on different planets. It made absolutely no sense, but the half-humans and such-like walking around were proof enough that it was possible. In the Imperial galaxy, even during the time of the Republic, inter-species marriage was outlawed. Of course, there were the occasional indulgences allowed, exotic dancers and such of varying species, but actual copulation was a rarity and was usually regarded as an exotic experiment, nothing more. That the Milky Way often indulged in open inter-species mating, even marriage, was a difficult cultural hurdle and led to many problems. The one side was regarded as repressed bigots, the other as degenerate hedonists. The entire issue was further confused by the existence of humans in both galaxies, and the fact that they were capable of having offspring with each other. The eventual "compromise" was the continuation of the law without any real enforcement. In other words, it was permitted so long as the people involved didn't make waves that drew Imperial attention. It was grudgingly accepted by both sides in the end.
Of course, this law had little bearing on the contents of the club, since long-term relations were the last thought on the minds of the patrons. The stages showed a cross-section of the Empire that wouldn't exactly be welcome on any pro-unification poster, although it seemed that getting together was on the minds of the various patrons. Twi'leks, humans, Bajorans, Romulans, Cathar, even, to Sebastian's surprise, a Vorta, although where they managed to find one was more than he wanted to know. Probably cloned from old stock, he thought distantly. The Jem'hadar samples had all been destroyed, but it wouldn't have surprised him if a few Dominion bits and pieces of technology had found their way into Ferengi hands. As it always did, it raised the dilemma in Sebastian's mind: how far could he balance the needs of the injustices he observed on his missions without compromising the larger problem he was there to combat. If he had time, he'd look into this later. For all he knew, the Vorta had escaped captivity and was working here voluntarily.
Sebastian was married, but despite that fact he didn't indulge himself here. He felt no attraction towards females outside his species and looking at the humans only reminded him of how far away his wife was. Gorren, naturally, was a hard-liner and didn't believe in diluting the purity of his house with alien blood unless it involved a knife. Without distraction, it didn't take them long to spot their mark, Gint. They took a seat, keeping an eye on him while he watched the show; it was too crowded to make a move in here. They drank their drinks, talked only enough to keep up appearances, and waited. Less than two hours later, the Vorta exited the stage and took the Ferengi's hand, and the two headed towards one of the back rooms. Sebastian and Gorren casually followed; a large Nosagin blocked their path. "Authorized personnel only," he growled.
"We're authorized," Sebastian said quietly.
"You're authorized," the Nosagin agreed, stepping out of the way and letting them through. Sebastian quickly followed the trail to the room; it was locked, but nothing more than a simple privacy device, and easily bypassed. The door slid open and he and Gorren slipped inside. Thankfully nothing had started yet, or this assignment would have crossed a new boundary of distaste for the Jedi.
"What's going on?" Gint demanded. Like most Ferengi with something on his mind, he was a bit slow on the uptake. "You can't be in here."
"We have some questions for you," Gorren remarked. The frustrations of the evening made themselves obvious in his tone, and the Ferengi shrivelled back and hit the call for security. Two more Nosagins came in right behind them, but they hadn't expected anything more than a trist gone sour. Gorren quickly twisted and drove a dagger into the exposed ribs of one while Sebastian grabbed the arm of the other and slammed him headfirst into the wall. Then with a touch he knocked him unconscious. He and Gorren straightened back up, their body language making it clear that this was less of a threat than a minor inconvenience. The Ferengi was almost pale, the girl uncertain.
"Don't do that again," Sebastian warned. His body, in the meantime, was screaming at him for the exertion. He was in worse shape than he thought.
"I'm connected," the Ferengi babbled. "Big people! Really big people. You don't want to mess with them!"
"Enough," Gorren rumbled. "Answer our questions and I will kill you."
"'Or,' you mean, right?" Gint said.
"Answer our questions or I will kill you slowly."
"Being ambushed angers my friend," Sebastian said, playing the slightly less bad cop. "Answer honestly or he'll make a hat out of your skin." With a thought, he flicked on the recorder in his mask; eidetic memory aside, it was always good to have a precise account of an interrogation. "You came into possession of a gross of concussion missiles fourteen months ago. You don't have them any more. Who'd you sell them to?"
"I don't remember details from that long ago!"
"Thump," Sebastian said. Gorren stepped forward and struck the Ferengi across the head, sending him tumbling out of the bed and onto the floor. "Who'd you sell them to?"
"Roz! Dem Roz! Some Malon who'd done business with the syndicate."
Sebastian flipped through the images on his disk, then held it up. "This him?" he asked as the hologram appeared.
"Yeah, that's him." Gint was holding his head where he'd landed.
Sebastian shut down the hologram; it was a composite design of one of Nom Anor’s identities, which meant they were on the right track. "What else did you sell him?"
"It was just a one-time deal."
"Thump," Sebastian said. Stupid Ferengi, he thought with disgust at the situation, I know when you lie. He tried not to look uncomfortable as Gorren picked up the Ferengi and slammed him face first into the wall, holding him there. "What else did you sell him?"
"I didn't sell him anything!" Gorren was holding the Ferengi off the floor as he pull him backwards to hit the wall again. "I SWEAR I DIDN'T!"
"Hold it," Sebastian said, and Gorren stopped, the Ferengi's face centimeters from the wall. "But..."
"But I did put him in touch with a slicer on Betazed." Face met wall.
"Do you think we are stupid?" the Klingon growled. "That a criminal would try to hide among telepaths?"
"Okay! OKAY! She was on Trodendt. Thorim Glesser, top-notch with electronics."
"She still there?"
"As far as I know," the Ferengi said. "The Syndicate still uses her sometimes, but she's strictly freelance."
Sebastian nodded and Gorren lowered the Ferengi to the floor, but kept one hand on his shoulder as a reminder. "You," Sebastian said to the Vorta, "what's your name?"
"Kilana... Kilana 5." She seemed frightened, which was understandable.
"You are the fifth clone then?"
"Yes," she said.
"Are you a slave?" Sebastian asked point blank.
"No Vorta is a slave," she said, seemingly finding the idea ludicrous. "We serve out of love and devotion. We live only to serve the Founders."
"Seems someone's not been up on current events," Gorren said under his breath.
"Who are the Founders?" Sebastian asked.
"The ones who made us Vorta," she said, looking at him oddly.
Sebastian turned back to Gint. "Who are the Founders?"
"The Founders are dead," he said, trying to force a laugh.
"Blasphemy!" Kilana cried. "The Founders cannot die! They are gods!"
"She's right," Sebastian said with a nod to Gorren. The wall was starting to take an imprint of Gint's frontal lobes. "It's the Orion Syndicate, isn't it."
"They're clones!" Gint wailed. "Who cares what happens to them?!"
And this, of course, is what it came down to, balancing the little crimes against the big ones. Sebastian couldn't right all the wrongs, but he was here, now, and could right this one if he wanted to. Balancing the risks between the two, his own cost-benefit analysis. He reached up and pulled off his mask. "I do," he said.
Gorren let Gint drop to the floor; the Ferengi seemed almost paralyzed. "But you... you're..." Sebastian pulled out his lightsaber from its pouch, then lit it; the Ferengi visibly wet himself. He dropped to his knees, fists held together over his head at the wrist. "Please, spare me! I promise, I'll never sell arms again! I swear it! Please!!!"
"The girl comes with us," Sebastian said. "The Orion Syndicate writes it off as a loss. Nobody tries to follow us. Anyone does, and I will come back for you, Gint. You hear me? I'll come for you." The blade struck the floor a centimeter from Gint, who had been too terrified to move. He nodded vigorously in agreement.
"The Founders said I was to work here," Kilana said. "It was to their glory that I served them in this way."
"They lied to you about being the Founders," Sebastian said. "They were just using you."
"You're lying!"
"No, I'm not," Sebastian said. Then a thought hit him. "Because I know where the Founder really is."
Kilana looked at him with skepticism. "Really?"
"Yes, just as I know that you are missing some of your memories. You know you are the fifth, yet you do not know everything about the Dominion you should.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes,” she said. “The Founders told me…” She slipped into silence.
“They were lying,” Sebastian said. “I have met the Founder; I have served under him.” Technically, it was true. “I can take you to him.”
Kilana looked between him and Gorren, then to the cowering Ferengi. “I believe you,” she said eventually. “Please, take me to him.”
Sebastian deactivated the lightsaber and put it away. “Replicate her some clothes,” he told Gint. “Something that won’t attract attention.” The Ferengi nodded and got up quickly, rushing over to the controls. A few minutes later Kilana was properly dressed for the constant weather of the planet. “Make a few changes of clothes so she has some comfort,” he added.
“This goes on my account,” Gint protested.
“Bill the Syndicate,” Gorren said, and at his word the Ferengi got to work. Soon she had a small suitcase full of clothing. Sebastian, in the meantime had put his mask back on.
“Remember,” Sebastian said, “no one knows what happened, and we were never here… Gint.”
“Of course, of course,” the Ferengi said. “Have a safe trip.”
As they slipped into the hall Gorren stepped to Sebastian’s side. “I would not question you in front of another,” he whispered. “But are you sure this is wise, my friend?”
“No,” Sebastian said. “I’m sure it’s unwise.”
“Ah, well, at least I have that comfort.”
“Look at it this way Gorren, how many times have I done what I figure is probably unwise, and look where it’s gotten me?”
“Yes, you’re a wanted man hated by trillions with an artificial leg.”
“See? Law of averages says this has got to turn my way.” And together the trio slipped through the club and out into the streets.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The mists of sleep slowly started to lift from Anakin Solo’s mind. “Good morning, lover,” rolled a deep, sexy voice. It filtered through the cracks in his mind like molten metal through a fractured mold until it hit the center of his consciousness and he jerked bolt upright. Unfortunately, he was in a co-pilot’s chair and caught himself on the restraining harness, tossing him right back into his seat. The voice was laughing at his antics. “Sorry about that, but I’ve done that a dozen times and it never stops being funny.”
“No, it’s not,” Anakin grumbled, undoing the restraints.
“Yes it is… from a certain point of view.” She was trying to keep a straight face but was failing miserably, until it just slid right out and she was laughing at him again.
“Remember who’s grading you, Laudica,” Anakin said, for all the good it did. He couldn’t actually hold this against the student, that wouldn’t be setting a very good example. Still, Laudica Reshad could be grating at times, and this was one of those times. “What’s our status?”
“I’ve made two zig-zag jumps,” she said, “and was just about to make the third. Are you really sure this is necessary?”
“With a Sith, there’s no such thing as too careful.”
She nodded, but it was plain to see she wasn’t so sure about that. There was a cockiness about her, part of what made her clash with the students at times. He hadn’t been too sure about recruiting her at all, but despite that she was proving to be an able pupil with much potential. He just hoped this didn’t lead down the wrong path. “So you really think it was a Sith that killed the Emperor?” she asked. “I mean, I know you and Jacen and Jaina said so, but is that just like party line? Was it really that Skywalker?”
“Laudica,” Anakin said, “believe me, before this war is over, you’re going to learn the answers to all those questions for yourself. Unfortunately, yes, it was really a Sith, no it wasn’t Bastian.”
“But it did look just like him.”
“I know, but I saw the Sith. I was with him when he killed Luke Skywalker.”
Laudica was quiet and for the first time he felt that she was taking this seriously. “I though the Vong killed him?”
“No Vong could kill Luke Skywalker,” Anakin said. “No, it was a Sith, with the power of the dark side. Against that, even a master like him was unable to survive.”
She was still for a moment, then shifted uncomfortably. “You’re just trying to scare me,” she said, but her voice lacked the self-assurance it had before. Then she jumped as Anakin detached his hand.
“He did this to me,” Anakin said. “I had a lightsaber, he was unarmed, and he still managed to defeat me. If Luke hadn’t been there I’d be dead.”
She swallowed. The lightsabers were all locked on training, and all of the apprentices had felt its sting at some time or other. “The dark side is that powerful?”
“No!” Anakin answered, perhaps a little too forcefully. “No, it’s not the dark side. The light is just as powerful, but it is the harder path. It requires peace, patience. The Sith walks the path of self-destruction, of hate and pain, and though he achieves power quickly, it is ultimately self-defeating.”
“But, if he could defeat a master like Luke Skywalker, how can we face him?”
Anakin was quiet. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I could give you something more reassuring, but you would know my lies. But I cannot believe the Jedi came that close to extinction and came back only to be wiped out by this Sith. Somehow, we’ll stop him. Jacen, Jaina, Sebastian, me, maybe even Alema or Shaote.”
“Or me?” Laudica asked.
Anakin smiled. “The Force is strong with you,” he said. “But you have much to learn.”
“Jacen says I’m making great progress.”
“Yes… but my brother has a tendency to stretch the truth. You’ve had three months of training; I had had nearly twenty years when I faced the Sith.” He could feel her fear returning. “I don’t say that to make you feel inadequate,” he added. “But you’ve got to know your limitations, and to remember the ways of the Jedi. I forgot that, and it cost me a limb. If you forget, it could cost you much more.”
“My life,” she said quietly.
“No, your soul.”
Everywhere Sebastian and his Klingon companion went, it seemed the Ferengi were trying to sell them something... or someone. Within twenty minutes Gorren's patience had worn thin and it was all Sebastian could do to keep his friend from disemboweling a street vendor as an example. Nevertheless, Gorren's growl seemed to make the point clear enough, and the Ferengi seemed to get the point. Overall, though, there wasn't too much to worry about. A Klingon who tolerated Ferengi irritation would probably attract more attention than one who bristled at their antics.
With all his connections, Sebastian had never made his way to Ferenginar before. For some reason, it had never been necessary, despite their connections to the underworld. In the end, the Ferengi weren't the type to rebel against the Empire; they had too much to lose compared to the gain. That's what mattered to them: a cost-benefit anaylsis. A Ferengi who was worth more credits for himself dead than alive was perhaps the closest they ever got to a moral dilemma. Well, a dilemma at any rate. Still, Sebastian had experience forming connections, and with the list of contacts he had from Volgo Terraine, this wasn't going to be as difficult as it had been on other places. Qo'nos had been the hardest and, well, look what he'd accomplished there. Well, the world was in open revolt, but it wasn't because of him. Well, not directly, just... kriff, was his life ever depressing. The rain didn't exactly help.
The two turned the corner and headed towards the entertainment district of the city. As expected, the Ferengi seemed to go overboard on this idea, but given the weather, it wasn't surprising. With skill honed from experience, the two found their way to the right club without in any way indicating it was their destination all along. Information brokers often kept an eye on the visitors, and it was best not to attract their attention if it could be avoided. Sebastian didn't know the name, nor did he care; odds are it was one of those tasteless jokes that was about as funny as a kidney stone.
One of the many bridges that the union of the two galaxies had to overcome was related to an unexpected issue. Because of some factor in the ancient primordial past of this galaxy, it was possible to crossbreed between sentient species on different planets. It made absolutely no sense, but the half-humans and such-like walking around were proof enough that it was possible. In the Imperial galaxy, even during the time of the Republic, inter-species marriage was outlawed. Of course, there were the occasional indulgences allowed, exotic dancers and such of varying species, but actual copulation was a rarity and was usually regarded as an exotic experiment, nothing more. That the Milky Way often indulged in open inter-species mating, even marriage, was a difficult cultural hurdle and led to many problems. The one side was regarded as repressed bigots, the other as degenerate hedonists. The entire issue was further confused by the existence of humans in both galaxies, and the fact that they were capable of having offspring with each other. The eventual "compromise" was the continuation of the law without any real enforcement. In other words, it was permitted so long as the people involved didn't make waves that drew Imperial attention. It was grudgingly accepted by both sides in the end.
Of course, this law had little bearing on the contents of the club, since long-term relations were the last thought on the minds of the patrons. The stages showed a cross-section of the Empire that wouldn't exactly be welcome on any pro-unification poster, although it seemed that getting together was on the minds of the various patrons. Twi'leks, humans, Bajorans, Romulans, Cathar, even, to Sebastian's surprise, a Vorta, although where they managed to find one was more than he wanted to know. Probably cloned from old stock, he thought distantly. The Jem'hadar samples had all been destroyed, but it wouldn't have surprised him if a few Dominion bits and pieces of technology had found their way into Ferengi hands. As it always did, it raised the dilemma in Sebastian's mind: how far could he balance the needs of the injustices he observed on his missions without compromising the larger problem he was there to combat. If he had time, he'd look into this later. For all he knew, the Vorta had escaped captivity and was working here voluntarily.
Sebastian was married, but despite that fact he didn't indulge himself here. He felt no attraction towards females outside his species and looking at the humans only reminded him of how far away his wife was. Gorren, naturally, was a hard-liner and didn't believe in diluting the purity of his house with alien blood unless it involved a knife. Without distraction, it didn't take them long to spot their mark, Gint. They took a seat, keeping an eye on him while he watched the show; it was too crowded to make a move in here. They drank their drinks, talked only enough to keep up appearances, and waited. Less than two hours later, the Vorta exited the stage and took the Ferengi's hand, and the two headed towards one of the back rooms. Sebastian and Gorren casually followed; a large Nosagin blocked their path. "Authorized personnel only," he growled.
"We're authorized," Sebastian said quietly.
"You're authorized," the Nosagin agreed, stepping out of the way and letting them through. Sebastian quickly followed the trail to the room; it was locked, but nothing more than a simple privacy device, and easily bypassed. The door slid open and he and Gorren slipped inside. Thankfully nothing had started yet, or this assignment would have crossed a new boundary of distaste for the Jedi.
"What's going on?" Gint demanded. Like most Ferengi with something on his mind, he was a bit slow on the uptake. "You can't be in here."
"We have some questions for you," Gorren remarked. The frustrations of the evening made themselves obvious in his tone, and the Ferengi shrivelled back and hit the call for security. Two more Nosagins came in right behind them, but they hadn't expected anything more than a trist gone sour. Gorren quickly twisted and drove a dagger into the exposed ribs of one while Sebastian grabbed the arm of the other and slammed him headfirst into the wall. Then with a touch he knocked him unconscious. He and Gorren straightened back up, their body language making it clear that this was less of a threat than a minor inconvenience. The Ferengi was almost pale, the girl uncertain.
"Don't do that again," Sebastian warned. His body, in the meantime, was screaming at him for the exertion. He was in worse shape than he thought.
"I'm connected," the Ferengi babbled. "Big people! Really big people. You don't want to mess with them!"
"Enough," Gorren rumbled. "Answer our questions and I will kill you."
"'Or,' you mean, right?" Gint said.
"Answer our questions or I will kill you slowly."
"Being ambushed angers my friend," Sebastian said, playing the slightly less bad cop. "Answer honestly or he'll make a hat out of your skin." With a thought, he flicked on the recorder in his mask; eidetic memory aside, it was always good to have a precise account of an interrogation. "You came into possession of a gross of concussion missiles fourteen months ago. You don't have them any more. Who'd you sell them to?"
"I don't remember details from that long ago!"
"Thump," Sebastian said. Gorren stepped forward and struck the Ferengi across the head, sending him tumbling out of the bed and onto the floor. "Who'd you sell them to?"
"Roz! Dem Roz! Some Malon who'd done business with the syndicate."
Sebastian flipped through the images on his disk, then held it up. "This him?" he asked as the hologram appeared.
"Yeah, that's him." Gint was holding his head where he'd landed.
Sebastian shut down the hologram; it was a composite design of one of Nom Anor’s identities, which meant they were on the right track. "What else did you sell him?"
"It was just a one-time deal."
"Thump," Sebastian said. Stupid Ferengi, he thought with disgust at the situation, I know when you lie. He tried not to look uncomfortable as Gorren picked up the Ferengi and slammed him face first into the wall, holding him there. "What else did you sell him?"
"I didn't sell him anything!" Gorren was holding the Ferengi off the floor as he pull him backwards to hit the wall again. "I SWEAR I DIDN'T!"
"Hold it," Sebastian said, and Gorren stopped, the Ferengi's face centimeters from the wall. "But..."
"But I did put him in touch with a slicer on Betazed." Face met wall.
"Do you think we are stupid?" the Klingon growled. "That a criminal would try to hide among telepaths?"
"Okay! OKAY! She was on Trodendt. Thorim Glesser, top-notch with electronics."
"She still there?"
"As far as I know," the Ferengi said. "The Syndicate still uses her sometimes, but she's strictly freelance."
Sebastian nodded and Gorren lowered the Ferengi to the floor, but kept one hand on his shoulder as a reminder. "You," Sebastian said to the Vorta, "what's your name?"
"Kilana... Kilana 5." She seemed frightened, which was understandable.
"You are the fifth clone then?"
"Yes," she said.
"Are you a slave?" Sebastian asked point blank.
"No Vorta is a slave," she said, seemingly finding the idea ludicrous. "We serve out of love and devotion. We live only to serve the Founders."
"Seems someone's not been up on current events," Gorren said under his breath.
"Who are the Founders?" Sebastian asked.
"The ones who made us Vorta," she said, looking at him oddly.
Sebastian turned back to Gint. "Who are the Founders?"
"The Founders are dead," he said, trying to force a laugh.
"Blasphemy!" Kilana cried. "The Founders cannot die! They are gods!"
"She's right," Sebastian said with a nod to Gorren. The wall was starting to take an imprint of Gint's frontal lobes. "It's the Orion Syndicate, isn't it."
"They're clones!" Gint wailed. "Who cares what happens to them?!"
And this, of course, is what it came down to, balancing the little crimes against the big ones. Sebastian couldn't right all the wrongs, but he was here, now, and could right this one if he wanted to. Balancing the risks between the two, his own cost-benefit analysis. He reached up and pulled off his mask. "I do," he said.
Gorren let Gint drop to the floor; the Ferengi seemed almost paralyzed. "But you... you're..." Sebastian pulled out his lightsaber from its pouch, then lit it; the Ferengi visibly wet himself. He dropped to his knees, fists held together over his head at the wrist. "Please, spare me! I promise, I'll never sell arms again! I swear it! Please!!!"
"The girl comes with us," Sebastian said. "The Orion Syndicate writes it off as a loss. Nobody tries to follow us. Anyone does, and I will come back for you, Gint. You hear me? I'll come for you." The blade struck the floor a centimeter from Gint, who had been too terrified to move. He nodded vigorously in agreement.
"The Founders said I was to work here," Kilana said. "It was to their glory that I served them in this way."
"They lied to you about being the Founders," Sebastian said. "They were just using you."
"You're lying!"
"No, I'm not," Sebastian said. Then a thought hit him. "Because I know where the Founder really is."
Kilana looked at him with skepticism. "Really?"
"Yes, just as I know that you are missing some of your memories. You know you are the fifth, yet you do not know everything about the Dominion you should.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes,” she said. “The Founders told me…” She slipped into silence.
“They were lying,” Sebastian said. “I have met the Founder; I have served under him.” Technically, it was true. “I can take you to him.”
Kilana looked between him and Gorren, then to the cowering Ferengi. “I believe you,” she said eventually. “Please, take me to him.”
Sebastian deactivated the lightsaber and put it away. “Replicate her some clothes,” he told Gint. “Something that won’t attract attention.” The Ferengi nodded and got up quickly, rushing over to the controls. A few minutes later Kilana was properly dressed for the constant weather of the planet. “Make a few changes of clothes so she has some comfort,” he added.
“This goes on my account,” Gint protested.
“Bill the Syndicate,” Gorren said, and at his word the Ferengi got to work. Soon she had a small suitcase full of clothing. Sebastian, in the meantime had put his mask back on.
“Remember,” Sebastian said, “no one knows what happened, and we were never here… Gint.”
“Of course, of course,” the Ferengi said. “Have a safe trip.”
As they slipped into the hall Gorren stepped to Sebastian’s side. “I would not question you in front of another,” he whispered. “But are you sure this is wise, my friend?”
“No,” Sebastian said. “I’m sure it’s unwise.”
“Ah, well, at least I have that comfort.”
“Look at it this way Gorren, how many times have I done what I figure is probably unwise, and look where it’s gotten me?”
“Yes, you’re a wanted man hated by trillions with an artificial leg.”
“See? Law of averages says this has got to turn my way.” And together the trio slipped through the club and out into the streets.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The mists of sleep slowly started to lift from Anakin Solo’s mind. “Good morning, lover,” rolled a deep, sexy voice. It filtered through the cracks in his mind like molten metal through a fractured mold until it hit the center of his consciousness and he jerked bolt upright. Unfortunately, he was in a co-pilot’s chair and caught himself on the restraining harness, tossing him right back into his seat. The voice was laughing at his antics. “Sorry about that, but I’ve done that a dozen times and it never stops being funny.”
“No, it’s not,” Anakin grumbled, undoing the restraints.
“Yes it is… from a certain point of view.” She was trying to keep a straight face but was failing miserably, until it just slid right out and she was laughing at him again.
“Remember who’s grading you, Laudica,” Anakin said, for all the good it did. He couldn’t actually hold this against the student, that wouldn’t be setting a very good example. Still, Laudica Reshad could be grating at times, and this was one of those times. “What’s our status?”
“I’ve made two zig-zag jumps,” she said, “and was just about to make the third. Are you really sure this is necessary?”
“With a Sith, there’s no such thing as too careful.”
She nodded, but it was plain to see she wasn’t so sure about that. There was a cockiness about her, part of what made her clash with the students at times. He hadn’t been too sure about recruiting her at all, but despite that she was proving to be an able pupil with much potential. He just hoped this didn’t lead down the wrong path. “So you really think it was a Sith that killed the Emperor?” she asked. “I mean, I know you and Jacen and Jaina said so, but is that just like party line? Was it really that Skywalker?”
“Laudica,” Anakin said, “believe me, before this war is over, you’re going to learn the answers to all those questions for yourself. Unfortunately, yes, it was really a Sith, no it wasn’t Bastian.”
“But it did look just like him.”
“I know, but I saw the Sith. I was with him when he killed Luke Skywalker.”
Laudica was quiet and for the first time he felt that she was taking this seriously. “I though the Vong killed him?”
“No Vong could kill Luke Skywalker,” Anakin said. “No, it was a Sith, with the power of the dark side. Against that, even a master like him was unable to survive.”
She was still for a moment, then shifted uncomfortably. “You’re just trying to scare me,” she said, but her voice lacked the self-assurance it had before. Then she jumped as Anakin detached his hand.
“He did this to me,” Anakin said. “I had a lightsaber, he was unarmed, and he still managed to defeat me. If Luke hadn’t been there I’d be dead.”
She swallowed. The lightsabers were all locked on training, and all of the apprentices had felt its sting at some time or other. “The dark side is that powerful?”
“No!” Anakin answered, perhaps a little too forcefully. “No, it’s not the dark side. The light is just as powerful, but it is the harder path. It requires peace, patience. The Sith walks the path of self-destruction, of hate and pain, and though he achieves power quickly, it is ultimately self-defeating.”
“But, if he could defeat a master like Luke Skywalker, how can we face him?”
Anakin was quiet. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I could give you something more reassuring, but you would know my lies. But I cannot believe the Jedi came that close to extinction and came back only to be wiped out by this Sith. Somehow, we’ll stop him. Jacen, Jaina, Sebastian, me, maybe even Alema or Shaote.”
“Or me?” Laudica asked.
Anakin smiled. “The Force is strong with you,” he said. “But you have much to learn.”
“Jacen says I’m making great progress.”
“Yes… but my brother has a tendency to stretch the truth. You’ve had three months of training; I had had nearly twenty years when I faced the Sith.” He could feel her fear returning. “I don’t say that to make you feel inadequate,” he added. “But you’ve got to know your limitations, and to remember the ways of the Jedi. I forgot that, and it cost me a limb. If you forget, it could cost you much more.”
“My life,” she said quietly.
“No, your soul.”
