The Old Republic Series

by Sean Williams

  “All right.” His hands rested impotently in his lap. “Well, I’ll make this brief, Moxla. The SSOs you fought with on Sebaddon—a messy bunch, but showed a lot of guts. We’re going to form a new Special Forces squad around them, and we want you to be part of it. We can’t erase your record, but we can add a commendation or two, post factum, to spruce it up a little, and change some of the wording. You’ll retain the rank you were given, brevetted of course, and have the first pick of the troops. What do you say to that?”

  Surprise got the better of her tongue. “Uh, yes, sir.”

  “You don’t sound particularly enthused, Lieutenant Moxla.”

  It didn’t take her long to snap out of herself. Anything was better than sitting around in Coruscant’s underbelly, waiting for the ax to fall. Either outright war with the Empire was going to break out any day, or the Republic’s ability to maintain the peace on its own worlds would fail. This way, she would be right in the thick of it, where she could maybe do some good. She would be working—and if she was lucky, she might be able to bring some people she trusted absolutely along with her. Ses Jopp, for one. She snapped to attention and saluted with appropriate enthusiasm.

  “You couldn’t have picked anyone better,” she said. “Give me a month, and your squad will be as polished as your desk.”

  “Don’t get me started on that, Moxla,” he said with a sudden rap of his knuckles on the greel wood surface. “Nothing’s as clean as it looks.” Another aide approached, and the Supreme Commander waved her away. “Get to it, Moxla. You have my absolute confidence.”

  Larin saluted again and marched for the door. Aides parted before her, watching with eyes that gave away nothing.

  “How did it go?” asked Ula, meeting her in the antechamber outside and matching her pace for pace along the corridor.

  “Very well, considering,” she said. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

  “Unlikely,” he said. “I’ve been shifted to a portfolio in data collection.”

  So he wasn’t being modest this time. “I’m sorry, Ula.”

  “No, it’s okay. I found my last job a little too … stimulating.”

  He smiled, and she found herself smiling along. Ula—still acting as envoy then—had looked out for her on returning to Coruscant, greasing the path to the Supreme Commander’s attention by making sure officers senior to her didn’t dismiss her out of hand, or take credit for her actions. Captain Pipalidi might have played a role in that, as well. That the captain was being promoted suggested she had Stantorrs’s ear on many things to do with Sebaddon, and Larin had certainly helped the whole affair from becoming a complete rout.

  “What are you doing now?” Ula asked her.

  She didn’t answer immediately, remembering how Ula had cleaned up her wounded hand on the Auriga Fire, and how pleased he’d been to see her when the shuttle had collected them from the burning world. She flexed her new fingers—a proper prosthetic at last, surgically grafted to her, indistinguishable from a real hand—and wondered who would look after him in his new role.

  “I have to meet someone right now,” she said, “and then it looks like I’ll be on the move for a while. But I’d like to catch up with you when I get back.”

  His smile grew wider. “I can wait.”

  “That’s assuming you’ll still be around, of course.”

  “The chances of me going anywhere are very slim, now.”

  “Great. We can drink Reactor Cores and talk about old times.”

  “I’m sure we’ll have lots more to talk about by then.”

  “What, the birth and death statistics of Sector Four?”

  “Just for starters.”

  At the exit to the building, they stopped and looked at each other. Was it her imagination, or did he look younger, lighter, than he had before? It was probably the smile, she decided. She wanted him to stay that way when she was around.

  She reached out and took his left hand in hers. Her artificial fingers squeezed lightly. When she walked away, she knew he was watching her, all the way down the steps to the plaza below.

  SHIGAR WAS WAITING for her at the Cenotaph of the Innocents, pacing back and forth in front of the first bank of asaari trees. The troubled cast to his brow perfectly matched the heavy gray skies above. He was back in Jedi browns, with a new lightsaber swinging at his hip, but he seemed a completely different person from the one she had met in the old districts not so very long ago. He moved stiffly, still favoring a wound in his side. His hair, cut shorter by Darth Chratis on Sebaddon, hung limply around his face. Watching him, Larin almost regretted coming.

  He glanced up as she approached. The blue clan markings on his cheeks looked faded and worn.

  “You’re still in uniform. That’s a good sign.”

  “Did you think they’d strip me naked and throw me onto the street?” She came to a halt in front of him.

  “And now you’re smiling. Things must have gone well.”

  “They did.”

  “I’m pleased, Larin.”

  “Well, likewise. Hello, by the way.”

  “Hello. Let’s go over here.”

  He led her to a stand of trees planted as a memorial to the people who had died during the Empire’s sacking of the Jedi Temple. One sapling for each victim had grown into a small forest, with grottoes and benches for people to pass a moment in contemplation. They sat side by side, close but not touching, and it seemed for a long while that Shigar wasn’t going to say anything at all. The restless branches rustled above them, moving back and forth in ways that had nothing at all to do with the wind.

  “I want to ask you something,” he finally said.

  “And I want to tell you something, so we’re even. Do you want to go first?”

  “Not particularly, but I will if you want me to.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Did I do the right thing, bringing you along with me?”

  That surprised her. She had been afraid that he was about to reveal that he had changed his mind and wanted to revisit the possibility of romance between them. If he had said that, she would have been forced to find words to explain the way she had felt on that front, and she doubted any such words existed. She knew exactly where those feelings had come from, but she hadn’t quite worked out what they were now. And then there was Ula, whom she definitely intended to look up when she got back.

  “I guess,” she said, “it depends on what you mean by ‘right.’ ”

  He grimaced. “That doesn’t really help.”

  “Well, let me tell you what I was going to say, and maybe that will help. It’s this: Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Just thanks.”

  “Why?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re going to make me explain it, aren’t you?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble.” He managed a twitch of his lips that might have been a smile.

  “It’s pretty simple, really. You came across me when things were the darkest they had ever been. I had no security, no family, no purpose—no life, really. You offered me all of those things. Relatively speaking, of course. I’d never come up against anything like the hexes before, and I’d always prided myself on keeping most of my limbs intact. But the essentials were there. We had the mission; we had roles to play. And I had you.”

  She raised a hand to stop him talking over her. “I know I didn’t have you, in any possessive sense, but you represented more to me than just some guy I’d bumped into. You’re Kiffar like me, and there aren’t many of us out there now, so that made you family. And you had my back when things got tough, so that made you—made you like my squad, I guess. You were everything I’d been missing, without ever being able to say so.”

  “I’m flattered,” he said.

  “Don’t be,” she said. “It wasn’t really anything to do with you. Any other handsome, well-armed Kiffar would have fit the bill.” She smiled to take the sting off her words, and he smiled in return.


  “I’m glad,” he said. “That makes me feel like I did do the right thing.”

  “Well, think that now, but the day I’m in the Empire’s sights and out of ammo, know that you’ll be the first I blame. At least I’ll have a proper squad with me then, so that’s one box ticked.”

  She was surprised by a sudden upwelling of emotion. She really was grateful, but she didn’t know how to convey it, except with a joke.

  “Were you seriously thinking I wished I’d never come? Don’t you remember how I used to smell?”

  “It still gives me nightmares.”

  “Besides, I reckon you have a lot more to worry about now.”

  He sobered. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the fact you’re wondering about what you did tells me you’ve entered a whole new world of uncertainty. Doing the right thing isn’t so easy in the real world, is it?”

  He studied the grass at their feet. “No.”

  “So you learn that lesson, which means you’ll probably become a proper Jedi Knight now, but in the process you come to the shocking realization that nothing will ever be black and white again. It’s all gray.”

  “Not all of it,” he said. “There’s still some black.”

  “But white is hard to find, right?” She put her prosthetic hand on his shoulder. “You’re a warrior now. Eventually you only see in two colors: black and red. Best get used to that, if you’re going to stay on the front line.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Sure you do. With the life you’ve had, you’ve always had a choice.”

  “Do you still think I’ve had it easy?”

  “No, my friend. No.” The flash of anger in his deep green eyes had come too quickly. She worried about that. But she knew she’d said enough. It wasn’t her job to bang his head into shape. “Everyone knows Clan Konshi got a raw deal when it came to looks.”

  That put the anger back in its place, where it could simmer until it found another outlet. She pitied the next person who met him on the wrong end of his lightsaber.

  “I should go,” he said. “The Council must surely be finished deliberating by now.”

  “That’s life in wartime,” she said. “A whole lot of waiting around between bouts of being shot at.”

  “Don’t forget to duck, Larin.”

  They stood and faced each other.

  “Don’t you forget to keep looking for the white,” she said, putting her arms around him and giving him a quick squeeze. “It’s out there somewhere. You just have to find it.”

  He nodded.

  They left the Cenotaph of the Innocents by separate paths. She didn’t look back.

  “HELLO, MOTHER. Sorry I’ve been out of touch for so long. Work has kept me very busy, but I’ll tell you all about that another time. Call me on Coruscant when you have the chance.”

  Ula closed the line and settled back to wait. He didn’t think it would be long. After the loss of Darth Chratis, the failure of the Cinzia to amount to anything, and the erasure of the fleet’s data banks, he was sure someone would want to hear his side of the story.

  What that would be he had given a great deal of thought.

  His comlink bleeped, warning him the call was imminent. That was impressively fast—so fast, in fact, that it made him wonder. Ordinarily someone on Panatha would note the message, then relay the coded request up through the lines of command to Watcher Three, who would then issue orders that would filter back down the lines of command, resulting in that simple ping. Ordinarily, this process could take hours. Occasionally tens of minutes. Never seconds.

  Ula looked around his apartment. It seemed smaller than he remembered, and now had a hostile cast to it as well. He would conduct a sweep later that evening in the hope of finding the bug he was now sure was there. Whether he would destroy the bug or not remained an open question.

  The holoprojector flickered. He stood in front of it and blanked his face. One of the first things he had learned about espionage was that an apparent lack of emotion enhanced both the credibility of one’s reports and the illusion of authority. That, he suspected, was why he had never seen Watcher Three’s face in more than shadowy outline.

  That outline appeared before him now, flickering and straining, as though coming from the other side of the universe. For all Ula knew, though, Watcher Three was on Coruscant as well, perhaps just up the road. Anything was possible. He knew of at least two other intelligence operatives who lived on his block, seeking a similar balance between easy access to the Senate and a ready escape route.

  “Report,” said Watcher Three.

  Ula needed to go back as far as his arrival on Hutta in order to tell the story properly. He didn’t lie once, but he told far less than the whole truth. As with all intelligence work, much was told by implication. He left Watcher Three to deduce that his rapid advancement from envoy to commander of the joint fleet had less to do with his own abilities than the need for a puppet in both positions. He also let Watcher Three decide that Darth Chratis was the person behind the second placement. Who better, after all, to place the blame on than someone who couldn’t defend himself?

  “The last report Stantorrs received that I saw before being transferred,” Ula concluded, “suggested that Sebaddon’s orbit had been disturbed, leading to its imminent destruction by the black hole. Some small amounts of rare metals have been scavenged by the Republic, but Imperial attacks have kept that to a minimum. No wreckage has been recovered from any of the sites established by Lema Xandret and her fellow fugitives.”

  Watcher Three didn’t divulge whether or not that accorded with reports made by Colonel Kalisch. He also didn’t mention the mysterious takeover of Kalisch’s ships or the matter of the data banks’ erasure. A computer virus propagated by the infected ships was sufficient to explain away the latter, and the colonel’s natural disinclination to admit that his ships had ever been out of his control fixed the former. Better to have a slightly botched mission on one’s record than a complete failure of command.

  That didn’t surprise Ula at all. Jet Nebula had anticipated exactly this outcome. He had made the fleet do what it needed to do, knowing full well that his role in events would never be recorded. The only weak link in his wild plan had been Ula himself. Anyone less confident, less sure of himself, would have killed Ula out of hand, for fear of his secret getting out. But Jet had let him live. And now Ula would repay that favor the only way he could, by making sure that both sides believed the fake version of how things had played out over Sebaddon.

  It wasn’t a complete whitewash, of course. Troopers would be telling wild stories about Sebaddon for years, as troopers always did, when wild stories were demanded. No one would believe them, though. And there the matter would finally rest.

  “What of the Mandalorian?” Watcher Three asked.

  “Gone. He left long before reinforcements arrived. Once the hexes were on the run, he presumably had no interest in the outcome of the battle.”

  “Why invest so much in tracking the Cinzia to its source and then play no role in what happens? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “He was just one Mandalorian who happened to be personally involved, remember. A raider operating on little more than his own initiative. Xandret might have hoped for some kind of alliance with the Mandalore, but it’s clear he was no more than idly interested. Had he believed the hexes truly remarkable, he would’ve sent more than Stryver to deal with them.”

  “And they weren’t remarkable?”

  “I leave that for more qualified people than me to decide,” Ula said, safe in the knowledge that Watcher Three would have a markedly vague intelligence on that score. Again, Colonel Kalisch wouldn’t want to be remembered for being routed by a gaggle of droids. Better instead to paint his early losses as the result of a Republic ambush, and minimize all involvement by the hexes, as Captain Pipalidi had. None of the surviving records would contradict either story, thanks to Jet.

  Sometimes the smuggle
r’s brilliance overwhelmed Ula, along with his utter gall. Where was he now? Ula would’ve given his left hand to know.

  “The minister is displeased by your demotion,” Watcher Three said. “You are to make every effort to regain your former post.”

  Now, that was interesting. Not only was it a completely unreasonable demand, that Ula should have betrayed the Republic while at the same time keeping his position under the Supreme Commander, but the urgency with which they expected him to get back into Stantorrs’s good books suggested that there were no other operatives in that department. Ula would bear that in mind in his future dealings with both sides.

  “Yes, sir. I will keep you informed on my progress.”

  “Dismissed.”

  The holoprojector emptied.

  Ula didn’t move.

  Before he had counted to ten, a new face appeared before him.

  “Hello, Ula,” said Shullis Khamarr, Minister of Logistics. “It’s been a long time. I was becoming concerned.”

  Once, Ula would have been struck dumb by this unprompted overture. In their previous dealings, he had invariably been the supplicant. For her to call him out of the blue bespoke a considerable alteration of their dynamic.

  “My apologies, Minister, on many accounts. The search for the world I told you about did not go well, and the resources I had hoped to provide the Empire went unrealized. I can only assure you that the enemy did not get the better of us.”

  “Well, that’s something. I hope you are not too disappointed.”

  “No, Minister. My role here will be much reduced, but I am sure others will rise to take my place.”

  “There will be others, yes. None like you, though.” She smiled. “I have always admired your passion and found our conversations to be thought provoking.”

  “Minister, on that matter, I fear—”

  “Yes, Ula?”

  “I fear I may have been mistaken in my former opinions.”

  Her smile slipped away. “How so?”

  This was the one lie he allowed himself to tell. “During the course of my mission, I worked closely with Darth Chratis and his apprentice, and their actions persuaded me to reconsider the prejudices I held regarding them. I see now how foolish I was to dismiss them so readily. They are crucial to the war effort, and integral to the proper functioning of the Empire.”