Lana was being rushed through her trials, she could tell. Baras was barely making an effort to hide that fact, for all that he -quite hypocritically- complained about the now-deceased Overseer Tremel, who his last prospect had killed on his orders, spoiling his efforts at obtaining an apprentice within his desired timeframe by rushing the effort. Oh, he claimed it was because she was more advanced than most students that passed through the Academy, and he was probably telling the truth on some level. She’d certainly had the opportunity to compare herself several times to her fellow acolytes, and the gap between they and herself was both noticeable and appreciable. Thanks to Asmu-Nikal’s tutelage, not that she would ever give the scarlet-skinned brat the satisfaction of hearing as such.
But she knew the truth of the matter, and the truth of the matter was that Baras was practically throwing her towards the finish line with the type of urgency that felt as though it had less to do with confidence in her abilities, and rather more to do with some sort of deadline that she was clueless about. Especially when she considered his commentary about ‘getting an apprentice on schedule’, which he’d muttered to himself all of once before visibly remembering that she was there and falling silent, never to mention it again.
The fact that her master might have an agenda was both expected and unsurprising, even if it was equally worrisome. That was simply the way of the Sith, and while she didn’t know much about Darth Baras -only that he was a subordinate of Darth Vengean, and thus a member of the Sphere of Military Offense, even if he didn’t strike her as particularly martial in the least!-, she doubted that his agenda would be particularly safe or healthy for her. Not to mention the fact that it would almost inevitably involve going after Vestara in a particularly violent fashion, not that she would obey for even a moment any order of his that would endanger the young woman she had found herself so consumed by since the moment they had met. On the contrary, she was far more likely to try and remove the fat bastard’s head entirely if he dared to try and harm Vestara, though she hoped he bided his time so that she had a chance of actually surviving the event in question.
As heroic and romantic as it would be to die cutting down a great and terrible threat to the woman she had such affection for, she would rather survive the deed and be rewarded for it. Properly rewarded. Repeatedly, ideally, and in a variety of creative positions.
Alas, such things -daydreams included- would have to wait until later. Preferably after Vette had fallen asleep, because it was bad enough that the little brat knew just how much of a torch Lana carried for Vestara, and she would never hear the end of it if the crimson-skinned girl caught her fingering herself with Vestara’s name on her lips.
Even if Vette would probably join in and call it practicing, something that she’d alluded to several times and outright invited Lana to at least twice. Whether it was to ensure Lana kept her around or simply because she was genuinely a little slut, the girl had made it plenty clear that she was perfectly willing to climb into bed and indulge a bit of mutual pleasure if her new owner was so inclined.
Which was... tempting, she had to admit, if only because the loneliness of Korriban was a tangible, gnawing thing that felt as though it was slowly crushing her beneath it’s weight while simultaneously trying to eat her alive. The Academy was cold in every sense of the word, and while she had no shortage of warmth in her own imagination, there was something to be said for actual physical contact with another living being that wasn’t trying to kill her.
And it wasn’t as though she wasn’t (exasperatedly) fond of the girl, because she was. Far more than she would have ever expected to be, if she was going to be perfectly honest, given the girl was both a slave and entirely too irreverent. But…that very same irreverence reminded her so very much of a certain other once-slave. That same teasing behavior, that same faith in herself and in Lana, that same willingness to stick things through to the end and do what needed to be done without reveling in it.
Small wonder that Vette and Vestara had, by all appearances, gotten on quite well during the brief time that they had known one another.
But no. In spite of all that, she wasn’t going to be taking Vette to bed anytime soon, at least not for anything beyond simply…sharing warmth. If she was going to take the girl up on anything more sensual, it would be on her own terms and for her own reasons, not because she was lonely and desperate and aching for someone who wasn’t here. That felt like a betrayal of something she couldn’t quite name, even if Vestara herself would probably laugh and tell her to enjoy herself, if not join in. Likewise, it wouldn’t be fair to Vette, to use her as a proxy for the person that Lana truly wanted.
She huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head somewhat incredulously.
If most Sith -hells, if most people in the Empire as a whole- could hear her thought process, they’d think her insane or be completely baffled. Why should it matter what she does with her slave, why should it matter if it isn’t ‘fair’ to the girl that Lana would be using her as a proxy partner in bed? Wy should it even matter whether or not Vette is willing, many of them would wonder, but Lana wasn’t -and never had been- like those people. She had no interest in raping someone, found no real pleasure in the idea of forcing someone into her bed, and that would have been the case even if she didn’t know for a fact that it would have cost her Vestara’s regard if the silver-haired young woman ever discovered it.
No, Lana Beniko was not like those people, and she never would be. She would surpass her trials and prove herself worthy of the future that Vestara had envisioned for her.
Of course, that thought brought her back to the present, which was soaring over Korriban in a sky-taxi, Vette at her side, as she headed for the Tomb of Tulak Hord. Apparently, the battle-helm of the ancient Dark Lord had been discovered within, and she was tasked with battling her way through the gathered k’lor slugs infesting the damned place and claiming it before any potential rival acolytes could. Certainly not the most complicated trial, and she didn’t doubt that he was essentially throwing her in the deep end to either temper or shatter her as quickly as possible so that he could move onto the next ‘supplicant’.
Well, she had no intention of breaking, and she certainly didn’t intend to let that bastard be the one to do it.
“Eyes up, bossy. We’re coming in for a landing.” Vette’s voice, light but not quite flippant, drew her from her thoughts, and she refocused on the world around her to see that the crimson-skinned slave-girl was correct. They were only meters away from the elevated platform that was their destination, and she could just see -beyond the lifts that would take them groundward- the sprawling temple-tomb that was their objective.
Imposing, to say the least, and she could sense the darkness pulsing off of it moment by moment, even at this distance and even as saturated as Korriban was with the Dark Side, but the only thing she really felt was anticipation. Of course, it helped somewhat that she knew plenty of acolytes had already carved their way into and out of the tomb, Vestara included, and she couldn’t help but feel her lips quirk as she remembered a tid-bit that Vette had shared with her. That Vestara now had the personal guard and assassin, a millennia-old dashade named Khem Val, of Tulak Hord following her around like a particularly ill-tempered and lethal shadow.
Now, here she was, trying to retrieve the helm of the massive beast’s long-dead master. There would be some irony there, if it wasn’t for the fact that retrieving ancient items from the tombs of the ancient lords was apparently a fairly common type of trial here on Korriban. In fact, from what she gathered, there were many items that were retrieved routinely, the Overseers would return them, and when the tomb was infested with failed acolytes and vicious wildlife again, would send new acolytes to look for them and restart the cycle.
A grim, almost clever sort of efficiency, she supposed, though the thought of her own potential failure being recycled into someone else’s trial was hardly a comforting one. Even if she didn’t consider the possibility of failure to be anything approaching probable, she wasn’t arrogant enough or stupid enough to ignore the possibility entirely.
“You know,” Vette remarked as they stepped off the taxi and onto the platform, the wind whipping at their clothes and carrying with it the dry, acrid scent of Korriban’s endless red dust, “I’ve been to a lot of really nasty places in my life. Nar Shaddaa’s undercity, a Hutt’s personal dungeon, that one cantina on Ord Mantell where I’m pretty sure the bartender was using actual poison as a mixer. But this?” She gestured broadly at the tomb-filled valley stretched out before them, her lekku twitching in a way that Lana had come to recognize as barely-suppressed unease. “This place gives me the creeps on a level that I didn’t even know I actually had. I cannot wait for us to finish with this damn planet and be literally anywhere else.”
“I have to admit, it’s starting to wear on me as well. Which I wouldn’t have expected, after growing up on Dromuund Kaas itself, and yet…” Lana sighed in response, meaning every word. Korriban was oppressive, spiritually and physically. Even living in the shadow of the Citadel, with the Dark Temple’s ever-looming weight on the horizon, couldn’t compare to the all-encompassing weight of the Sith’s cradle. And the Force knew that going from a perpetually-dark, cold, and rainy planet to a desert world such as Korriban was a hell of a shift as well. “Well, suffice it to say that I’m as eager to leave as you are.”
“Glad we’re on the same page about something, at least.” Vette flashed her a grin that was probably meant to be relaxed, though the way her hands her latched onto the butts of her pistols and her presence in the Force put to lie the facade. “So, what’s the plan, then? Walk in, kill everything that moves, grab the shiny helmet, walk out? Because that’s usually how these things go for you Sith types, from what I’ve gathered.”
“More or less, yes.” Lana allowed herself a small, somewhat brittle smile as she descended the lift, wishing that she could rest her own hand on the hilt of her weapon for a similar dose of reassurance. Unfortunately, as a mere acolyte, she didn’t yet have access to a lightsaber, leaving her only with the warblade sheathed on her back. “Though I’d prefer to be a bit more circumspect than your plan would imply. For example, I’d rather kill only what we have to. The more fights we have to deal with, the higher the chance that something goes badly wrong.”
“Well, I certainly won’t argue with something that results in us being less likely to get shot, stabbed, or raped to death.” Vette remarked, a spike of genuine disgust and fear throbbing through her, before she suddenly grinned and her presence turned teasing and playful without a touch of arousal. “If anyone is going to be pinning me down and stuffing me full of cock, it had better be a certain silver-haired stud~!”
“Oh, for-! Can you focus for five minutes, please? On something other than getting fucked by Vestara?” Lana huffed, rolling her eyes heavenward even as she felt the traitorous heat crawl up the back of her neck, and the spike of jealousy that always worked it’s way through her at the reminder that her slave had witnessed Vestara in all her glory and Lana herself had not.
Not to mention the fact that Vette had been saved and carried to safety by Vestara, and while Lana had never liked to imagine herself as a damsel in distress, she had to admit a part of her wouldn’t mind something similar.
“Sure, I can do that.” Vette’s agreed promptly, and Lana felt -from the familiarity she had quickly gained with the girl more than any sort of guidance by the Force- the other shoe hovering over her head in the handful of heartbeats before it dropped. “I’ll focus on the idea of you getting fucked by her while I watch! I have to admit, it makes a pretty nice picture~!”
Was this what having siblings was supposed to be like? She already had the annoying, semi-sibling rivalry with Asmu-Nikal, and now she had the bratty younger sibling to go along with it. Except, of course, for the fact that said younger sibling -by her own admission- wanted to share Lana’s bed, either alone or with others. Which was hardly unheard of, Empire and Republic alike, even if it wasn’t exactly common. Only the most backwater, technologically undeveloped worlds -the worlds where the basic, universal gene mods required to eliminate common illnesses such as cancer or remove the biological side-effects of incest- still held any sort of legal or cultural bias against incestuous relationships. At least between siblings and cousins, with parent/child relationships still very much receiving a side-eye stare.
Not that any of that was all that applicable to this particular situation, since she and Vette weren’t even the same species, never mind siblings, and were completely incapable of impregnating one another without a fair bit of time in a med center and some not-inexpensive equipment. All of which was wholly irrelevant at the moment, especially in the face what the two of them had to deal with at the moment.
Which was a sign that she was a bit more discomfited at the moment than she was willing to admit, if she was going off on mental tangents in an effort to distract herself. Not particularly ideal, and she took in a deep, slow, steady breath to settle herself as she -with Vette closely on her heels- stepped onto the lift that would take them to ground level.
As they descended, she stretched out her senses to the farthest point possible, searching for presences, for threats. Not any easy feat, the incredible collective auras of the tombs clouded so much of the world around her, but even being limited to a hundred yards or so would provide no small amount of advanced warning. It would just have to be enough, and as she started across the sand-covered stone road leading to her objective, she sent a brief prayer into the ether that this would be an easy trial, and a quick one.
She had places to be and people to pursue, goals to accomplish, and the sooner she could start doing that the happier she would be.
##############################################################################################
Fay wasn’t particularly fond of the Senate as a whole. Individual Senators, sure, like the Alderaani or the Naboo. Hell, she even kind of liked the Corellian guy, even if he was a smarmy, flirty, cocky bastard that had one-hundred-percent been a smuggler or some other sort of criminal at some point. He gave off all the right vibes, and judging by the way he hit on everything with legs, he’d probably flirted his way out of trouble more than once.
Anyway, not a fond of the Senate, corrupt, backstabbing bureaucrats that they were. And she really, really didn’t like Committees, especially Committees that went out of their way to make the job of the Armed Forces or the Jedi harder than they needed to be because someone was greasing their palms.
All of which is why she was greatly -if subtly, of course- enjoying the live-action show that was the Senate Defense Committee trying, and failing, to rake her mother over the coals in regards to the Brentaal Star and Esseles incidents.
“…fact of the matter is, Grand Master, that the end result is wholly unacceptable! Dozens of loyal, stalwart citizens of our Republic are now dead, with the losses inflicted on the enemy minor in comparison!” one member of the SDC, a particularly rat-like Rodian man, blustered furiously, and the old, bloated twi’lek beside him nodded, pounding the desk with one fat fist.
“That’s right! What’s more, we lost access to all the knowledge that General Alokus possessed about Imperial R&D and deployments! This is nothing short of devastating to our ability to prosecute a conflict with the Empire! An utter invaluable advantage, lost to us! How could this have happened?”
For her part, her mother simply sat in her chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap and her posture nothing short of impeccable, the form-fitting tunic that had been her outfit of choice for the entirety of Fay’s life pristine, her expression so serene that Fay knew damn well she was overdoing it for the sake of expression-based sarcasm. Not that the Senators would ever be able to notice, of course, and even if they did they’d dismiss it as ridiculous. After all, Satele Shan was a Jedi, and Jedi didn’t do that sort of thing. Everyone knew that!
Of course, everyone didn’t grow up as intimately involved in the Shan household as Fay had, nor were as intimately familiar with the Jedi Order as she was, in spite of not being one herself. And that intimate involvement let her know that her mother could be nothing short of wicked when she was so inclined, and while a good portion of the Order really were the staid, hidebound, emotionless flesh-robots that the rest of the galaxy thought they were, an equal portion most certainly was not.
Indeed, some were capable of being every bit as petty, vindictive, and snarky as any being outside of the Order, and Satele Shan was absolutely among their number. She just happened to hide it under layers of serene composure and apparently-devoted adherence to the Jedi Code, which let her get away with being absolutely savage in ways that left her targets wondering if they’d actually been insulted or if they were just imagining things. Something that she blamed on Fay’s nine-times great-grandparents, Revan and Bastila, which struck Fay as somewhat unfair and a stretch, but who was she to argue? Revan had been a Sith Lord for a time, as had Bastila, so perhaps there was something genetic about snark and being subtly cutting.
Honestly, given some of the stories Fay had heard about her esteemed ancestors -stories that the Jedi Council would probably prefer be quietly buried under ten meters of Tython’s lushest soil- it was a minor miracle that the Shan line had produced as many upstanding and serene Jedi as it had. Though ‘upstanding’ and ‘serene’ were, perhaps, doing a fair bit of heavy lifting in that particular sentence, given that her mother was currently in the process of demonstrating that even the Grand Master of the Jedi Order could be absolutely vicious while appearing the very picture of placid meditation.
Then again, what else could she expect from the woman whose mother had been forced into exile when the Senate had pressured the Jedi Council into shutting her up, because how dare any Jedi voice a disagreement with the anti-marriage, submit-to-the-Republic stance that had been standard ever since the Great Jedi Purge a couple of centuries ago?
Oh yes, Satele Shan remembered all to clearly who was responsible for taking her mother from her.
Oops, her mother was responding to the idiots on the dais, now…
“I understand the Committee’s concerns,” her mother said, voice as smooth as polished marble and about as warm, and Fay had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. That tone. Oh, they were in for it now. “And I share your grief for the loss of life aboard the Brentaal Star. Every one of those marines and crew members was a son or daughter of the Republic, and I mourn them as such. However, I must, with all due respect to this committee, gently suggest that perhaps the question being asked is not quite the correct one.”
The Rodian bristled, his short arena twitching violently in irritation, his dark eyes narrowing dangerously as his mottled green hands clenched against the polished surface of his desk. “Are you suggesting that we, this Committee, do not know how to formulate proper inquiries regarding matters of Republic defense, Grand Master? That is a rather bold claim, even from one of your stature.”
“Not at all, Senator Greeta,” her mother demurred, inclining her head with just the right amount of courtesy to avoid giving offense while still communicating that she wasn’t particularly intimidated. She’d faced down Malgus himself, multiple times, and survived. Did this paper-pusher really think he was going to intimidate her with a glower and a bit of body language? “I would never presume to tell this esteemed body how to conduct its affairs. I merely would like to suggest that perhaps the more pertinent inquiry is not how this unfortunate outcome came to pass, but rather how we arrived at the circumstances that made such an outcome not merely possible, but, I would argue, probable.”
The twi’lek senator’s jowls quivered as he leaned forward, his own dark eyes narrowing into slits amid the fatty folds of his face. “Explain yourself, Grand Master. Plainly, if you please. This committee has no patience for Jedi riddles.”
Oh, that was a mistake. Fay had to press her tongue firmly against the roof of her mouth to keep from snorting, growling, or squealing in delight. The moron had taken the bait that had been dangled in front of him, been rude in the offing, and had no idea what was coming.
“Oh, of course, Senator Taa. Nothing would please me more than to be plain and direct with this most esteemed Committee.” Satele’s smiled looked, to Fay, distinctly sharklike as her eyes swept across the panel before her, some of whom seemed to have suddenly realized that something was wrong, in a distinctly instinctual, primal way, but couldn’t grasp what with their logical minds. “I was simply referring to this Committee’s decision to ignore my advice and that of the SIS and proceed with the least-subtle, most-dangerous extraction possible.”
She steepled her hands before her, settling back further in her seat.
“Rather than take a slower, more reliable, and quiet method of extraction via a staged disaster to cover his disappearance while an SIS strike team, with Jedi in company, brought him back to the Republic incognito, the Committee opted to send a battle-fleet to the Imperial border to retrieve the man when he fled from his own garrison in a shuttle. To whit, the fleet drew Imperial attention and response, resulting in a pitched battle that killed hundreds on both sides, including General Alokus, and could very well have reignited the war. Doubtlessly, the Committee had a good reason for this decision, and I’m certainly happy to accept its reasoning if it is will to provide it”
She paused for a moment, tilting her head thoughtfully as the members shifted slightly, several pairs of eyes darting amongst themselves.
“Moreover, I would think that the Committee would be focused on the fact that Grand Moff Kilran not only knew that Alokus was defecting, but where to intercept him and where to intercept Ambassador Vyn Asara aboard the Esseles.”
The Rodian’s arm twitched again, his dark eyes darting briefly to his twi’lek counterpart before snapping back to Satele. A muscle near the corner of his mouth spasmed, and Fay nearly lost her composure watching him try to formulate a response that wouldn’t make things worse.
“That is... Grand Master, you are implying...” Senator Taa sputtered after a moment of what looked like strangled breathing, his lekku practically vibrating with agitation.
“I am not implying anything, Senator, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Satele replied soothingly, the very picture of helpful clarification and reassurance. “I am stating, quite plainly as you requested, just how it was that this unfortunate incident came to pass, while expressing my heartfelt concern about Imperial penetration of our information security. I, like all of you, am a loyal child of this Republic of ours, and am deeply concerned by the possibility of a war reignited by hasty and ill-planned actions, however righteous the impetus for those actions undoubtably is.”
A low, uncomfortable silence settled over the chamber, broken only by the faint whine of the recording droids and the soft rustle of one of the aides shifting nervously behind the dais. Fay watched, from her seat in the observer’s gallery -devoid of the public, given it was a closed session, though she was hardly the only person in it-, as Senator Greeta’s throat worked in a visible swallow and Senator Taa’s many chins quivered with what she suspected was less outrage now and more the sudden, belated realization that he had, metaphorically speaking, stepped onto a mine. A very large, very volatile, very explosive mine. The kind designed to take out tanks. He was certainly fat enough to set one of those off.
It was a beautiful thing to watch, really, even if she shouldn’t be enjoying it nearly as much as she actually was.
Senator Kriv Dakkeron, the old Kuati sitting at the far left of the dais, cleared his throat with a sound like gravel as he shifted forward, the light catching the durasteel-grey eye-cover that hid the ruin of his right eye. An eye that he had lost fighting in the Galactic War alongside people like her parents, killing a pair of Sith -low level, perhaps, but Sith all the same- in single combat on Alderaan. The injury that had finally forced the career soldier to retire from the field.
“Grand Master,” he said, his voice carrying the weathered rasp of a man who had spent too many years shouting orders over the roar of war, “let us set aside, for the moment, the question of Imperial intelligence penetration, serious though it is and deserving of its own inquiry. Let us also, if we might, refrain from assigning blame to and amongst this Committee for the operational parameters of a mission that was, I would remind my colleagues, not a brainchild of Grand Master Shan. Who was, in fact and instead, only following the precise orders that we dictated to her.”
There was some more awkward shifting amongst them, but none dared protest or argue back against the old war hero amongst them as he continued.
“Instead, if you would be so kind as to indulge me, I would like to return to something that you mentioned -in your report and those of others- that has gone undiscussed. Specifically, the young Sith, this…” he glanced down at his datapad demonstrably, though Fay didn’t believe for a moment he didn’t actually remember the name. “Vestara Khai. And, of course, her companions and the actions that they took.”
That was a name that still sent a warm, often heated, thrill through Fay’s body. The woman who had saved her life, the woman whose deeds had been on her mind since the moment they had met, and whose body -and the memory of her heated gaze drinking in Fay’s nakedness- had led to many enjoyable dreams and moments of pleasure. Idly, she wondered what the Senate would think about the fact that she spent most nights these days daydreaming about being railed by a sworn enemy of the Republic while fucking herself into oblivion with toy or finger.
Senator Dakkeron’s eye cover nearly gleamed as he tilted his head back up towards Satele, and Fay found herself leaning forward a fraction in her seat, fingers curling against the armrests. Oh, this was going to be interesting. The old man didn’t often talk, from her experience -both personally and third hand- but he always had something worth saying when he did.
“According to the reports filed by Commander Orso and Padawan Ban, both of whom are -by the grace of the Force and the apparent mercy of their opponents- still alive, this Sith personally engaged Padawan Ban, the…dashade, was it? Did the same with Commander Corso, while the rest of her companions pursued Geleral Alokus and his remaining Marine guards directly. Is that a correct summation of events, in brief?”
“Entirely accurate, yes, Senator. Both sustained significant injuries, Commander Orso for example losing both hands at the wrist, but -as you noted- survived all the same. As I recall, according to reports I received both verbally and the written one you’re referencing, they survived due to the explicit and announced choice to spare them on the part of Vestara Khai.“ Satele confirmed, which caused something of a stir amongst the panel, though it was a quiet one.
Dakkeron nodded slowly, rubbing his chin -the well-maintained silver beard there no doubt scratching lightly, not that Fay could hear it at this distance- and he considered the answer.
“A telling detail, that they were spared not due to need nor a shortage of time, nor even due to happenstance, but entirely because this one apprentice wanted to spare them.” he mused contemplatively, letting the hand fall away to rap his knuckles on the counter pointedly. “Over the course of my career, I have fought many Sith, and read more reports than I care to remember. There are very few examples of Sith sparing either a Jedi or an officer that they have defeated, and I can think of none where they were not spared and not taken prisoner.”
He leaned back in his seat, his good eye narrowing as he studied her mother.
“I would hear your assumptions on this girl’s reasoning, Grand Master.”
“Understanding of course that all of this is entirely speculation?” Satele asked, receiving a nod. “And that I have of course never met her in person, and so have no personal insights from the Force into her nature?” Another nod. “Then I will say that she seemed to be a young woman provided a mission, and sought to accomplish it as cleanly as possible while minimizing risk of the situation spiraling out of control.”
“You believe that a Sith is trying to avoid reigniting a war?” he raised his eyebrows in restrained incredulity, a rather more polite reaction than his fellow panelists, and Satele made a vague gesture of tentative agreement. He hummed thoughtfully, before slapping a hand on the desk and looking back and forth along the line of seats to his sides. “Ladies and Gentlebeings, I suggest that we instruct the Strategic Information Service to begin looking carefully into this matter. Regardless of the merits of any plan proposed for extracting the General from Imperial space, it’s obvious that the Empire knew what was happening from early on in the attempt. As such, we should table any further discussion or decisions on this matter until we have more sufficient information than we currently possess.”
Fay frowned, wondering what was going on, even as the rest of the Committee murmured their agreement, some sounding distinctly unhappy with the action. The tenor of the meeting had changed rapidly, and the abrupt closing of the proceedings was threatening to give her whiplash. It almost felt as though the old man had ended the hearing deliberately to cut of the line of conversation he himself had created, but why?
Something was definitely off.
Then, when she saw his remaining eye to the recording droids as he gathered up his datapads, her eyes narrowed. He was trying to keep something off the books, maybe even outside the notice of the rest of the committee, and that meant that he knew something. But what could he know? And how could he know whatever it is that he apparently knew?
Whatever it was, she doubted she was going to learn it by sitting here in the observer’s gallery, probably not even in the Senate Dome entirely. But she didn’t doubt that she’d find out eventual, either from the man himself or from her mother. The old soldier had always been close to her mother, had been at the Battle of Alderaan alongside both of her parents on Alderaan, and had been a regular -if infrequent- dinner guest at the Shan estate on Coruscant before her mother had relocated the majority of the Order to Tython. If he had something to share, he would share it with Satele, and if Satele deemed it appropriate, Fay would find out when her mother saw fit.
So, instead, she simply slipped out of the gallery to make her way to the turbolift in order to meet her mother. One way or the other, they would have plenty to talk about at dinner tonight, before she was called up to meet with the foundational members of her new Havok Squad in the morning. Idly, she wondered just who they would be…and wondered if she would find herself forced to hunt down the man she had once loved as an Uncle, and the rest of a unit that she had so highly revered.
Please, let someone else be given that mission. Let them decide that our history makes me compromised. I don’t know if I could do it. she sighed, chewing on her bottom lip, before biting it sharply to stifle an entirely inappropriate giggle as another thought came to mind.
I bet if I was chasing them across the galaxy, I’d run into Vestara again. I owe her a few, after all, and Force only knows how she’d demand I repay her~!