Chapter Text
For as long as she could remember, Vaylin had never been gifted the privilege of choice.
As a girl, her power running rampant, terrifying even the Knights in her family’s loyal service, she had taken that freedom for granted. As that same girl, in the depths of Nathema, her power being stripped away piece by piece, watching pieces of herself crumble away along with it, she had learned the fatal consequences of relenting, of receding. As High Justice of the Eternal Throne, she was free, but it came at a cost, and the word was biting, laced with a subtle poison.
That poison was still present, even here, but its bitter tang was less potent here, and Vaylin didn’t know how to feel about it.
Voss was an unusual world. According to the records obtained from the Empire and Republic, it was a fairly recent discovery, inhabited by enigmatic Force-sensitives who were more similar in method to Zakuul’s than she expected, and yet very different, utterly unique--to them the Force was not light or dark, but neither was it used as the Knights used it.
The portion of Voss-Ka set aside for those not native to this world was teeming with soldiers and robe-clad Force-users, either Jedi or Sith. It was clear to Vaylin the peace was an enforced one, and not one by choice, based on the wide margin each side gave the other. Merchants sold their goods cheerfully and without judgment--no judgment that anyone not skilled in the Force could sense, at least--to both sides, for the most part, though a few, who wore the respective uniforms from both sides, were clearly here to represent their people. For what, Vaylin didn’t know, and didn’t have time to care.
All of this Vaylin observed from behind a nondescript hood and mask as she walked the avenues of Voss-Ka’s alien enclave, searching for directions to the Shrine of Healing.
It was clear, however, that it was simply a known location--directions rarely needed to be given, because everyone knew where it was. It would be comparable if Vaylin had been back on Zakuul and asked where the Spire was: everyone simply knew .
At last, she obtained a map and instructions from the skyhopper nearby, but part of their journey would have to be on foot. That complicated things. Her brother--layabout that he was--could still only move for short periods before needing to rest, after his fight with the Outlander, the Alliance Commander.
None of his injuries were life-threatening on their own, and none of them were even made with a plasma weapon--since they’d known from the beginning that the Outlander was no Force-sensitive--but together, combined with the stress of travel these past few weeks, it had taken a more severe toll on him than expected.
Senya-- Mother --refused to leave his side for long, so it fell to Vaylin to reluctantly scout out their destination.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, either.
After committing the details of the map to memory, she made the trek back to where Senya had landed Arcann’s personal shuttle a few hours ago. The shuttle’s pilot was out, pacing a line into the golden grass with every anxious step.
Senya wouldn’t be staying long, of that Vaylin had little doubt. What was most uncertain was what Vaylin would do when the inevitable abandonment came.
A choice had brought her here, and another choice would bring her elsewhere, when it all came to a head. If nothing else, it would be hers .
“You’ve returned.” Senya sounded relieved, relieved beyond measure, in fact, and Vaylin narrowed her eyes dangerously. “What have you found?”
“A path to the mountains where the shrine is.” Vaylin turned over her shoulder and pointed in the vague direction of where they’d need to go. “Part of it’s on foot. Let’s hope you’re as good at running as I remember.”
Vaylin sensed the sharp pang of Senya’s regret in her chest as if it was her own, and just as quickly dismissed it. Her mother was here, but wouldn’t be for long. She had never stuck around when it mattered.
Her gaze wandered up to the shuttle, where her brother lay. Arguably the last member of her family. If nothing else, she would stand by him. For now.
Folding her arms tightly and scowling out at the vast, foreign wilderness, Vaylin sensed when her mother and brother emerged, drawing closer and closer--Arcann was only partially conscious, and Senya was all but carrying him, which further complicated their plans for getting him to the temple. Her brother had never made things easy before. No particular reason to start now.
With an explosive sigh, Vaylin turned and said, with mock cheer, “Well, shall we be on our way?”
For as long as she could remember, Sethali had never been gifted the privilege of choice.
As a girl, it was a given--responsible parents didn’t let their spawn run around Nar Shaddaa’s underworld unsupervised, and for all their flaws, Sethali’s parents had been responsible, in that regard at least. As the replacement and surrogate daughter for a Jedi-turned-Sith, Sethali had realized exactly how much freedom she had lost during her years on Dromund Kaas--the freedom to simply be .
And then...
Onomatophobia, no one should challenge a member of the Dark Council, Castellan restraints were placed as a precaution, iconoclasm, repeated doses carry side effects--
Sethali looked at her shaking hands, the tremors unusually strong today.
Then, there was that.
Here, on Odessen, and from a time long before that, Sethali had learned to not take her choices for granted. Here she chose to look up at the mounted chrono on the wall, she chose to rise to her feet and lean against the wall for a moment of stability, chose to walk to the caf maker in the corner and switch it on with an irritable sigh.
She’d taken the smallest things for granted once. Now, they felt like victories, albeit insignificant and sometimes meaningless ones.
It was still too early for the sun to have risen, but Sethali was too restless to sleep again tonight. Her datapad lay in the corner, and stars knew she had enough to keep her busy for the next few weeks alone. She had to learn what SCORPIO hoped to accomplish at the helm of the Eternal Fleet. She had to consult with Admiral Aygo to see about bolstering their defenses in the wake of the Battle of Odessen, as so many had already taken to calling it mere days after the conflict. There were wounds to heal, ships to repair, and time was short.
She also had to find the remaining members of Zakuul’s royal family. It was too early to tell if they were still an active and immediate threat, but Sethali had a feeling her desperate attempt to incapacitate the shuttle before it departed for hyperspace had been unsuccessful. Or successful, depending on what she felt about the decision every time she thought back on it. Unsuccessful because she had failed to stop them. Successful because they had survived, even if they had escaped.
Sethali hadn’t wanted to destroy the shuttle. She didn’t want to kill Senya, who’d proven to be a valuable ally, even a friend, during the Alliance’s early days.
Sethali didn’t want to kill them, not unless it became a last resort. But she did want to understand why Senya felt so certain it was worthwhile to keep them both alive.
Her caf machine beeped quietly a few times, and Sethali let out a breath as she got up to pour herself a generous cup of the stuff. She wouldn’t learn anything sitting here wishing things had turned out differently.
In the war room, a few of the night guards remained, and straightened when they saw her, but Sethali waved her hand in a half-hearted gesture that made them relax. Authority took some getting used to. Absolute authority was unthinkable.
Sethali felt that same prickle in the back of her neck that said Valkorion was preparing to pay her a visit, and she pursed her lips as she turned where she knew he would appear. He didn’t look pleased, but then he rarely did. Sethali felt a burst of ruthless satisfaction at that.
“Even now, you refuse to acknowledge the destiny that awaits you.” Valkorion regarded her like a disapproving parent, and it almost made Sethali sorry for the royal children, though she had a feeling a disapproving glare was hardly the worst they had seen from the emperor. “The Eternal Throne is close enough to grasp, and you’ve made no move to reach for it.”
“I can’t very well take it while SCORPIO controls it.” Sethali pointed out, resting her weight on one hip, opting for humor only because she knew it was far more frustrating to Valkorion than anything else. “Not without a very good plan.”
“The droid is inconsequential, as you should know.” the disapproving slant of Valkorion’s jaw sharply increased, but Sethali was undeterred, folding her arms tightly against her stomach. “Neither of my children stands ready to claim the throne at present, but they will not be idle long.”
“How unhelpfully vague that you tell me this, but not where to find them.” Sethali arched a brow as she uncrossed her arms and began to tie her dark brunette hair up in its usual tie, seeming as though she hardly had a care in the world, not even for the immortal emperor who refused to leave her brain. “I know they’re out there, and I will find them, with or without your help. I’ve never needed it before.”
He said nothing to the statement, a statement Sethali had made many times before, and would likely say again many times in the future, and vanished so quickly it left Sethali with a mild ache in her forehead. She pinched the bridge of her tattooed nose, closed her eyes, and willed the ache to disappear.
Her patience was rewarded, and slowly Sethali’s mind felt like her own again. It was a lie, because her head was not truly her own while Valkorion remained, but it was a comforting lie, for now.
She had long ago learned the consequences of a comforting lie, however, and she didn’t intend to be caught with her guard down again.
The first few hours Sethali spent in the war room, she scrolled through damage and casualty reports from the battle. They’d come through better than expected, though the Gravestone ’s hiccup at the height of the battle had cost them a few ships. It could have been far worse, but ships were valuable resources that tended to be difficult for Sethali to replace at this juncture.
Setting down the datapad, Sethali finished off her caf and went to see if the sun had risen yet and she could reasonably seek out Admiral Aygo to start going over defenses. She knew she ought to stop by the infirmary, as well, to check on those wounded in the fight, but Lord Kahla had things in hand well enough there.
“I didn’t expect I’d see you up this early.” Lana’s voice shook Sethali out of her thoughtful trance, and she shook her head slightly.
“Couldn’t stay asleep.” Sethali brandished her datapad like a pass to be awake earlier than the rest of the base. “I was looking over the damage reports. Have you seen Admiral Aygo yet?” Sethali had a belated thought of something else that needed addressing. “Or Theron? I’d like to see about bolstering our network security.”
“Way ahead of you, Commander.” both Sethali and Lana turned at Theron’s voice as he came into the war room as well. “In fact, I’ve been spending most of the past few days working on it.”
Sethali didn’t ask if he’d slept. She knew the answer already. Instead, she said, “There’s caf in my quarters.”
“Read my mind, Seth.” the nickname had taken time to take root again after the five years the group had been apart, but their friendly rapport, thankfully, had not. It was a relief to hear it again, to hear it more often, to know that she was still more than just the Commander to someone.
“Sethali, while I’ve got you,” Lana paused and leaned against the war room’s holoprojector table, “Koth did mention the Gravestone is still grounded for now while he and Tora ensure the omni-cannon is up and functional. We don’t know if SCORPIO intends to target Odessen, but--”
“I understand.” Sethali pursed her lips and ran a pale green-gold hand over her face, over the geometric tattoos covering her cheeks, and she thought.
Having the Gravestone out of the picture for the time being made them much more vulnerable, and only intensified her need to get up and talk to Aygo about Odessen’s defenses. Just as Sethali was preparing to rise to her feet and do just that, the time of day--or night--be damned, a nearby console exploded into static just as Theron re-emerged with a fresh cup of the caf Sethali had brewed earlier.
The caf went flying, and Sethali and Theron both reached the console at the same time, Sethali leaning anxiously over Theron’s shoulder while he frantically tried to learn what had just happened.
“That wasn’t a power surge, was it?” they were still sorting out which generators had been overloaded in the past few weeks, and which ones were simply old and needed repairs, but this was far too specific to be one of those fluctuations, and everyone in the room seemed to know it.
“No, it’s--” Theron began, but didn’t get the chance to finish. The voice that interrupted told Sethali everything she needed to know.
“I trust you haven’t forgotten me.”
It was the same thing she’d said before the battle began, before telling them she’d handed Arcann their location on a silver platter, before everything had fallen apart. Sethali’s jaw tightened. “What do you want, SCORPIO?”
Even during their days dismantling the Star Cabal, Sethali had known SCORPIO’s loyalty to her was flimsy at best, but the sting of her betrayal was still there, annoyingly insistent.
“Consider this a gift for allowing the fleet to remain under my control.” Sethali didn’t believe for a moment the information SCORPIO was about to provide was being provided solely for generosity’s sake, and SCORPIO had to know Sethali knew that. For all the droid’s flaws, she was too smart not to know.
“You wouldn’t be telling me anything unless you got something out of it.” Sethali folded her arms tightly and felt both Lana and Theron join her at the table.
“I have what I want.” SCORPIO replied calmly. “I have the fleet. But there is still something you want: the location of the remaining members of Zakuul’s royal family.”
Sethali exchanged a glance between her two advisors; Lana’s lip twisted skeptically, but Theron looked interested. “May as well hear her out.”
“Senya Tirall piloted the shuttle from Arcann’s flagship to the planet Voss, accompanied by the High Justice.” SCORPIO, apparently satisfied they were paying attention, continued, “It seems likely they will attempt to avoid detection by hiding on a neutral world.”
Sethali blinked, and several thoughts raced through her head all at once, ultimately culminating on what SCORPIO gained from divulging this. The answer came to her in a split second, almost glaringly obvious: for whatever reason SCORPIO had wanted control of the fleet, she would want to keep it out of either Arcann or Vaylin’s hands until her purpose had been achieved.
“I see.” was all Sethali said in response. “I’ll follow up as I see fit, SCORPIO, and I...thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
“I hope it serves you well, Commander.” and the connection cut abruptly off, the image of SCORPIO on the Eternal Throne vanishing from the holoprojector. Sethali sighed deeply.
“Well.” Theron spoke first. “That was...interesting. You figure she’s trying to kill two birds with one stone again?”
“We can’t risk following her leads without some kind of verification.” Lana pointed out. “If this is a ploy to draw us away from Odessen in preparation for further attacks, we’d be falling right into it.”
“She wants to keep the throne in her hands for now.” Sethali said flatly. “Sending us to chase down Arcann and Senya and Vaylin means all the people who currently might want her off the throne would be preoccupied. It’s definitely part of a larger plan, but we can’t pass up this opportunity.” Pulling up a projection of Voss’ current status on the war table, Sethali continued, “If the Gravestone can’t get us there, we’ll need a different shuttle to reach Voss.”
“There’s several undamaged vessels in the main hangar, and multiple Alliance warships still in service.” Lana said, with a small degree of hesitation. “We can see that at least one is prepared for departure within the day.”
“Good.” Sethali pressed a key and the projection of Voss’ current status disappeared. “I don’t want to risk letting them slip away again.”
“Because you want to silence them?” Lana asked. “Or because you want to hear what they have to say?”
“Whether I want to silence them will depend almost entirely on what they have to say.” Sethali replied, unfazed. “So we’ll just see, won’t we?”
She felt their eyes on her as she went to fetch her gear, but ignored the feeling it gave her, that same prickling in the back of her neck that told her she was being watched.
Whatever happened on Voss, Sethali had a feeling the galaxy would in fact be watching very closely for what came next.
It was far too easy for Vaylin to get bored here.
Their achingly slow journey to the Shrine of Healing was punctuated only by the wildlife, which often got too curious for Vaylin’s liking. In a way, she was grateful for the outlet. Anger was easier than confusion. Lashing out was easier than relenting, than receding. It was familiar.
In all the ways her life had been upended in these past few days, familiar was enough.
For the most part, she drew away from her mother and Arcann as they followed her on the paths up the mountain, a literal and seemingly metaphorical divide. Senya had come back to save Arcann--had said she wanted to save him .
It hadn’t been for her. It had never been for her. There was so little reason for Vaylin to believe differently now, no matter some small, sequestered part of her wanted to believe it.
She squashed that part of her flat, for now, and cast her gaze around the rock outcrops down the path. The imposing and solemn entrance to what had to be the Shrine of Healing was within sight, within reach. She supposed that was good news. As good as she could hope for.
As Vaylin turned over her shoulder to... encourage her family to pick up their pace and hurry before their approach garnered attention, she saw a small group of warships drop out of hyperspace, combined Republic and Imperial classifications.
Once, not all that long ago, Vaylin would have said that their arrival would make things infinitely more interesting, perhaps even fun. Now, it made something like annoyance stir in her chest, though she still didn’t know why .
“Well, if we’re going to attempt this charade,” Vaylin said as Senya and Arcann--still just barely awake--caught up with her, “we’d best do it in a hurry.” Pointing at the Alliance ships that had just arrived, Vaylin finished, in a vaguely sinister but still grim sing-song tone, “Someone’s not happy we’re here.”
Senya looked over her shoulder and the remaining color drained from her face. “The Alliance.” her voice was calm, but the sudden tension in her shoulders revealed the truth. On her face was renewed determination, though, and Vaylin’s gut twisted with something like bitter regret. “Let’s go.”