New Dawn Fades, Part 10

Company – Zeftak – Succession

     What? The military has no jurisdiction over the Jedi! We take care of our own!

     The younger version of herself would have voiced that indignant thought aloud, in no uncertain terms.

     But that younger self had had all the assured self-confidence in the Galaxy, and then maybe a little bit more. She would immediately have stormed off to see exactly who had had the temerity to encroach upon the sacred, centuries-old special rights of the Jedi within the Republic by making such a suggestion.

     And though she felt the stir of anger within her, it was but a muted whisper compared to the hurricane it might have been only a week or two ago.

     What have I lost? And should I be happy or sad at its absence?

     Finding herself perched precariously above an enticing pit of self-pity, she held steady, and calmly rationalized the situation to herself.

     After the Star Forge... after all the death and destruction of the past five years... we Jedi must walk carefully now. Directly and indirectly, the Republic has suffered much at our hands. The High Council must have recognized this, and must have acceded to requests... demands... concerning changes in our role within the Republic. Starting with the security arrangements for my journey to Coruscant, perhaps?

     I may not be a prisoner aboard this ship, but neither will I be free to do as I please.

     She looked at Juhani, who was studying her with characteristic inscrutability in the dimly lit hallway.

     And what of you, Juhani? Are you my guardian? Guard? Companion? Perhaps all at once?

     She brushed her fingers against the control panel, bringing the lights back up in the hallway.

     "May I borrow your comlink?"

     The corridors of the Fury were mostly empty, as she made her way to the conference room where the interrogator awaited her. The few persons she passed by were absorbed in post-jump duties, monitoring systems to ensure no problems developed.

     She turned a corner and spotted HK-47 down the otherwise empty passageway, approaching her.

     He’d wandered off shortly after they’d disembarked from the Ebon Hawk, and she’d been too tired to care, and too willing to completely drop him from her mind. So his sudden appearance was a most unwelcome reminder of his presence.

     She paused, briefly considering turning around back the way she had come. But it was too late; the droid’s eyes seemed to light up as he saw her.

     Resuming her stride, she approached him. I’m not a little girl anymore. I can’t run away from my problems.

     "Inquiry: Where are you headed, Master?" he asked as she reached him.

     "A debriefing with intelligence," she answered, passing by without stopping.

     The droid turned around and followed her. "Inquiry: May I join you?" he asked as he strode next to her. "I am curious to see what interrogation techniques are currently in use in the Republic military."

     "Techniques? I hardly think this will be a confrontational meeting." Unlike the current one!

     "Optimism: One can always hope for the best, can’t one?"

     "I thought you were supposed to be ‘safe-guarding’ me?"

     "Response: I can multitask."

     She sighed. Arguing with a droid, especially this one, is pointless! "I don’t think that will be necessary, HK."

     "Acceptance: As you wish, Master." And with that, the droid stopped.

     Good riddance, she thought to herself.

     "In that case, I shall continue with my other tasks."

     "Yes, very good... wait, what?" She stopped, turning to face the droid. "Other tasks? What other tasks?"

     "Explanation: As per standard HK protocol, I am scouting out this vessel, imprinting its layout in my memory banks."

     "Ah. That sounds reasonable enough." She turned to go.

     "Continuation: I am also probing security provisions, testing for easily exploitable vulnerabilities. As well as searching for likely choke points, and candidate locations for ambush, blockade, enfilade fire—"

     "Enfilade fire?"

     "Explanation: Positions where an enemy’s flank is exposed to your fire, but your own is not, ensuring the maximum amount of carnage and destruction with the minimum amount of exposure to—"

     "Yes, yes, I’m aware of the concept." She sighed to herself, imagining the droid skulking about in the shadows, meticulously observing guard rotations, collating duty rosters, probing security measures and setting off random klaxons throughout the ship to test response time. "On second thought, it might be better for you to accompany me."

     She knocked gently on the door.

     "Please come in."

     She opened the door.

     It was a small, sparsely furnished room. Sitting behind the single desk on the far side of the room was a Sullustan, his attention completely absorbed by the monitor in front of him.

     He glanced at her briefly as she and HK-47 entered. "Ah, Commander Shan," he said, his Basic only slightly accented. Rising to his feet, he indicated the single chair across the desk from him, his eyes returning to the monitor. "I am Lieutenant Orom Zeftak, with the Intelligence Division. Please, be seated."

     She sat in the proffered seat, and felt HK-47 come to a stop behind her.

     Seating himself, Zeftak scanned his monitor a few moments longer, typing in short bursts on his keyboard, then pushed it gently to the side. His large, dark eyes looked at her.

     She felt a little nervous, to be under the attention of those large, inscrutable eyes. And she’d never been able to make much of Sullustan body language.

     His round ears quivered slightly, and a slight smile formed on his lips, as he sensed her unease. "I know what you’re thinking: What are you doing as an interrogator and not a navigator?"

     She smiled politely. "No, no, I’m just a little tired still."

     "I find the mysteries people attempt to hide from me more interesting to discover than the uncharted planets many of my brethren are absorbed by," Zeftak continued with his slight smile. "But I’m sure this will not be an occasion for me to utilize any of the skills I have accumulated over the years."

     A slight sigh rattled through HK-47’s vocabulator. Why did I bring him here?

     Zeftak’s gaze turned onto HK-47. "Are you feeling anxious about this, Commander?" he asked.

     "No, of course not," she said. "The droid is only here to stay out of trouble elsewhere."

     The Sullustan studied HK-47 a litlte longer, then nodded. "Very well. With your permission, Commander, I’d like to begin."

     At her nod, he pressed a button on his desk, and a small panel on the wall behind him slid open, revealing the crystal lens of a camera.

     He lifted a small mike to his lips, as the camera automatically trained its lens and focused on her. "Subject is Commander Bastila Shan. Human female, twenty-one standard years old. Jedi Padawan from the former Jedi Enclave on Dantooine."

     She felt self-conscious before the cold lens of the recorder, as it silently etched her image into permanency within its digital memory banks. She could imagine a clutch of young Jedi apprentices, gathered about a monitor, looking silently at her haunted eyes, in pitying wonderment, as their Master dryly discussed her rise and fall. As I once did, watching holo-vids of poor Ulic Qel-Droma.

     Zeftak glanced at his monitor. "Homeworld... Talravin?"

     "Yes," she nodded, distractedly running her hand up to comb back some hair from over her ear.

     He looked at her in curiosity. "I’ve never been; is it nice?"

     "Honestly, it’s been so long I can hardly remember it," she said. The cold, metallic sensation of her nanny droid’s fingers as she grasped them tightly in her small hand, came and went. "Before we begin, Lieutenant," she said, "I should like to point out that I’ve already discussed my... my fall at great length with Master Vandar, back on Lehon. Surely, you have already obtained records of that discussion?"

     "Yes, yes—he has provided us with a quite complete transcript, Commander. Rest assured that I feel no need to go over that again."

     "Suggestion: A recap of that previous discussion could put the subject in the proper frame of mind for further inquiries."

     "Ignore him," she said, sparing a brief glance backward to glare at the droid.

     "Of course," Zeftak said with a slight smile. "I happen to be interested in other matters."

     "Other matters?"

     "Yes." He glanced at HK-47. "I’m sure you’ll understand the need to keep this confidential, Commander?"

     "Certainly."

     "I wish to focus this debrief on Korriban."

     "Korriban?"

     Zeftak merely nodded in response.

     "But I’ve never been to Korriban. Carth or Juhani, or even HK-47 here, could surely tell you more about Korriban than I."

     "Affirmation: I will never tire of discussing our recent adventures on Korriban, Master. They hold a privileged place within my memory banks, residing in my fastest memory cache for instantaneous recall."

     They would, wouldn’t they? she thought, wondering just how much carnage Enosh and the others had visited upon the Sith Academy there.

     "We have already asked them, as well as everyone else in Revan’s entourage, about their recent visit to Korriban," Zeftak said. "But you present the opportunity to reveal a... unique viewpoint on matters."

     "What about Yuthura Ban? Revan redeemed her during his time on Korriban."

     "Unfortunately, she is not with us here, and any records the Jedi High Council may have made while questioning her are not available to us yet.

     "Please, think back, Commander, painful though it may be. Do you have any stories of Korriban, indirect though they may be?"

     Tentatively, she scanned through the dark memories of the past. "Well... well, there is one..."

     Impatiently, she ran through the corridors of the Temple, shoving aside anyone unfortunate enough to get in her way. And they were fortunate in that respect; had she more time, she most certainly would have lingered over a few of them for quite a bit longer. To the detriment of their health.

     She turned the corner leading to Malak’s meditation chambers only to find Shaenedra standing in front of the doors, barring the way.

     She felt the bulge in her belt where Shaenedra’s blade was tucked away and smiled to herself.

     "Out of my way, Shaenedra."

     "Our Dark Lord is meditating," the woman snarled in response. "He’s not to be interrupted."

     "My news is of the utmost import. Stand aside."

     "Tell me, and I shall convey it to him when he is done."

     What manner of fool do you think I am?

     Even though Shaenedra’s guard was up, Bastila easily brushed her aside, Pushing her into the wall.

     She may have been in a hurry, but she would never pass up a chance to humiliate this woman. "And to think you had aspirations to serve as our Dark Lord’s apprentice," she scoffed at Shaenedra’s back, as she was transfixed, pinned quite firmly into the cold stones of the wall. "Poor, poor Shaenedra," she purred, stroking the back of the woman’s bald head. "Relegated to door duty like some pitiful droid, and you are not even fit for that! I really should put you out of your misery." Her stroke turned into a grip as she grabbed Shaenedra’s head and moved as if to smash her face into the wall. But then she stopped and chuckled. "But what would be the fun in that?

     "Know this, Shaenedra. I toy with you now, as you toyed with me once—but unlike you, I will finish matters myself, at a time and manner of my choosing. Of that, you can be sure." And with a jab she cracked her elbow into the small of Shaenedra’s back, eliciting a gasp from the other woman, before dispelling her hold and letting Shaenedra’s body fall to the floor.

     "You are impertinent, Bastila," Malak hissed from his meditative pose, as she entered his meditation chamber.

     She bowed deeply. "My Lord. Your Apprentice defers to no one but her Master."

     He rose, an approving gleam in his hard eyes.

     "And my news if of the utmost importance and urgency," she continued, as she heard Shaenedra enter from behind. She spared a glance in the other woman’s direction, and smiled to see her favoring her back as she shuffled in, dark murder in her yellow eyes.

     "I know already. Uthar Wynn is dead and the Academy is in chaos. Revan has become most troublesome."

     She stumbled, but caught herself quickly. How can he know? All communication with Korriban has been cut off completely! "Indeed, most knowledgeable Master. What shall we do?"

     "Do? We?"

     The menace in his hiss was unmistakable. Beside her, she could sense Shaenedra’s sense of satisfaction at Malak’s annoyance.

     Her stomach quailed with sudden fear. Have I overstepped myself?

     "O, most munificent Master," she said instead, bowing slightly to cover her unease. To show fear now, is to die! "I... I was merely concerned at the prospect of a vacuum in leadership at the Academy."

     Her head bowed most humbly, her ears strained for clues as to Malak’s level of displeasure. When nothing was forthcoming for a while, she stole a glance up.

     He was staring at her in deep thought. "Who is Wynn’s second in command?" he hissed.

     "That would be Yuthura Ban, Master," Shaenedra interjected before Bastila could reply. "I know her well; she will soon have things under control."

     Shaenedra grinned at Bastila.

     "Ban has fled and thrown herself at the mercy of the Jedi Council," Bastila replied, returning the grin.

     Shaenedra’s smirk faltered, even as Malak silently hissed.

     "Your sources...?"

     She dismissed Shaenedra with a snap of her eyes. "Are not compromised yet, Master," she said. No doubt, Revan had already alerted the Council to her capture, but she had been careful to appear dead to their networks, even as she had carefully, passively worked her contacts and dug up information.

     He looked at her. "Good work," he hissed.

     She nodded humbly, taking the opportunity to throw a smirk at the silently fuming Shaenedra. You will quickly learn that you are outclassed, my dear, she silently thought to herself. "Master," she continued, "if I may be so bold as to suggest something...?"

     "Yes?" he inquired cautiously.

     "I think Shaenedra here would be most fit to replace Wynn as head of the Academy," she said.

     Shaenedra gaped next to her, taken by surprise.

     Bastila pressed on quickly before Shaenedra could interject. "The rabble on Korriban need a strong hand to discipline them, and ensure that what happened with Revan never occurs again," she explained. "You have far too much to deal with here, and with Revan. I, of course, am still far too new to be given such awesome responsibility." She almost laughed to herself at the ridiculousness of that statement. Awesome responsibility... babysitting a gaggle of stupid students! Culling through that crop of imbeciles could only be entertaining for a while. "So Shaenedra is the obvious choice to handle such a critical role." She turned to look at the bald woman. "Are you up to this, Shaenedra?" she inquired in a pleasant voice.

     Caught flat-footed, realizing she’d been nimbly out-maneuvered, Shaenedra glared darkly at Bastila’s expressionless face, and replied with the only answer that she could give. "Of course I could—"

     "Then that is settled, isn’t it, my Lord?" she smoothly cut in, turning her attention back to Malak. And the further away you are from Malak, my dearest Shaenedra, the weaker and more isolated you are. Enjoy your time wrangling with those idiots, while I gather up true power, here by Malak’s side!

     "You overstep yourself, Bastila," he hissed, but without the dark menace of earlier.

     She nodded deferentially. "Merely a suggestion, Master," she said. "Of course I would not dare to ever presume for myself any decision that is rightfully yours." Not yet, but soon. Soon.

     Mollified, Malak looked at Shaenedra thoughtfully.

     "Is that it?" Zeftak asked, when Bastila’s story came to an end.

     She just nodded, momentarily speechless, as the sensations of that time came back to her. She could feel the malignancy within her, the echoes of her hate, still recent, still awake, responding to the words with which she’d resurrected that time, those events. Despite the warmth of the small room, she shivered, clamping down on the uneasy stirrings within.

     Zeftak was typing on his keyboard. "Shaenedra. Shaenedra. Let’s see... Shaenedra Narras, former Jedi Padawan from the Coruscant Academy?"

     He pushed the monitor around so she could see the picture he’d called forth from a database.

     Long braids of hair of the most delicate yellow color were draped around a soft, innocent face and crystal blue eyes, staring with resolute determination into the recorder. Quite a difference from the sallow face, the pinched gray skin, the gleaming yellow eyes in sunken sockets, which she’d remembered. But the lines of Shaenedra’s hard face were there, hidden beneath the smooth planes of the past Padawan.

     Bastila was shocked. A fallen Jedi. There were so many around me; why did I never even consider that she, too, might have been one?

     "Yes, that’s her." Strange... the eyes in that picture seemed to be staring at her.

     Zeftak pulled the monitor around again. "Left her Master eight years ago, to join Revan and Malak’s forces to fight the Mandalorians," he read. "Like so many of her associates."

     "Yes." Where there should have been older mentors to the younger students like us, there were only gaps. Friendships ruined. And bitter Masters, bereft of the students they’d worked with for so long.

     "And did this Shaenedra end up succeeding Uthar Wynn?" Zeftak asked.

     "No," she replied. "Malak ultimately decided that he would let the succession on Korriban be the final graduation exercise for whoever was skilled enough, lucky enough, and brutal enough to overcome his or her rivals. She was on the Star Forge, when Revan defeated Darth Malak."

     As they started back to her quarters, Bastila noticed from the corner of her eyes that HK-47 was staring at her.

     I don’t have time for more of his games, she thought to herself, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge him.

     With single-minded focus, she made her way through the still relatively empty corridors, the droid silently following in her wake. But she could feel that unacknowledged, undivided, uncharacteristic attention from the droid like a targeting laser on her back.

     Finally, she could take no more of it. "Is something wrong, HK?" she asked, after they’d entered a turbolift.

     "Distracted explanation: Master, I... I am at a temporary loss for words."

     That was good enough to satisfy Bastila’s limited curiosity about the droid’s well-being, but HK-47 continued on.

     "All this time, I was unaware of just how much potential you have. Your story... reveals so much duplicitous scheming, unexpected cruelty, viciousness, and outright vindictive rapaciousness that I am.. I am most humbled to be in your service, Master, your temporary affliction notwithstanding."

     "Nothing temporary about it," she replied briskly.

     "Acknowledgment: As you wish, Master."

     "And it’s not an affliction," she added quickly.

     "Acknowledgment: As you wish, Master."

     Bastila wasn’t sure she liked a fawning HK-47 any better than the previous version.