FicWad

He stands like a statue, stock-still and seemingly rooted in strength, perfect in arrogance. Since his people love vivid colors, he wears nothing, willingly, but dark, dull gray and black, with just enough of the garishly bright yellow hue that tradition demands, as a mark of respect for the Ruling Family he is both a member and the titular head of, to break that monotony. And since his people are flamboyant, and enjoy their creature comforts a great deal, and love to display the perfection of their bodies, dressing with what would be accounted almost aggressive sensuality by those not of his people, he is dressed uncomfortably, his body all but entirely concealed by his costume. Tight-fitting, long black gloves (smoothed snugly into place over the lower two-fifths or so of his long gray sleeves, so tight that it would take a great deal of effort to shift or otherwise dislodge them) and knee-high, body-hugging black boots of heavy hide cover his extremities. His dull gray shirt and pants are fitted, the material made with enough give to move sufficiently with his body not to hinder his motions but also unnecessarily heavy and of an unrefined weave and coarse texture. The high collar of the long, sleeveless, mostly gray (though with the traditional yellow patchwork demanded by Family tradition) over-robe, though yellow, is cut close to the skin and conceals the whole of his neck. His skin is naturally just as deep and rich and vibrant a blue as Chiss skin can be, and yet even that is not enough to satisfy him. A specially developed, virtually truly permanent, and essentially undetectable cosmetic dye has been layered over his natural complexion until a mask of jewel-toned and perfect blue conceals even his skin from prying eyes. Only his hair is uncovered, a rich mass of true black (that rare shade that sheens with ghosts of iridescent hues), more eloquent than any crown could ever be in proclaiming his right to power. It is moderate in length because it would be unnecessarily flamboyant to wear it long and just as conspicuous if cropped overly short. His lack of facial hair, though, is not so much reactionary as it is a natural fact of being, much like the blood-red gleam of his eyes. The Chiss, quite simply, are not hirsute people, and so neither is he. It is, quite possible, the only concession to nature that he will ever willingly give.

He is, at the moment, desperately tired. Yet, because he is Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano, he absolutely refuses to show it, standing instead as though he has roots that extend all the way down through the ship and back to his homeworld and the very core of that planet. And because of who and what he is - the Aristocra of the Chaf Family, the Fifth Ruling Family of the Chiss Ascendancy, and an undeniably beautiful specimen of a very specific type (tall without being overbearing. Strong without being muscle-bound. A precise mix of clean, classically handsome features and predacious sharpness, just /so/, like the perfect balance of a well-tempered and razor-edged blade) of Chiss male - he looks strong and somehow statuesque and exquisite, rather than simply static because of his exhaustion. To any Chiss, he would be accounted a marvelously fine example of a certain type of male Chiss, a virtual paragon of aristocratic warrior strength and fierceness and beauty. And why should he not be? All those who are truly of his blood, and not merely claimants to his Family's name, are. They bred for strength and beauty once, in the Chaf Family, and the results are still breathtakingly obvious in an almost eerie perfection of form and color and fierceness of character. Even were he to discard the trappings and tools of the mask he has made of himself, he would still be thought beautiful and in much the same way that a striking hawk is considered, by the Chiss, to be beautiful. As it is his opinion that all public members of the Ruling Families should be flawless in beauty, peerless in intelligence, unequaled in pride, utterly tireless, and without emotional weakness (after all, what more could a people truly want or ask of its rulers, if presented with such perfection?), Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano is proud enough of his appearance to strive never to allow that apparent perfection to fail, at least not when there are others who might see him.

The Chaf Exalted is but one of a dozen large ships currently hurtling through the reaches of hyperspace, but it is the largest, and the grandest, as is befitting the flagship of a private fleet of one of the Nine Ruling Families, and so his (richly appointed so as to reflect his station, not to provide him comfort) quarters aboard the ship are often filled with the bustling of many Family servants. Thus, for the benefit of these individuals, Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano maintains the image of peerlessness and superiority that is as much a part of him as the black and gray he always wears and the hated but required ancestral yellow collar and patchwork upon his outer robe. Let the servants observe that he is not tired, that he is never tired, that a situation does not exist which could make him tired. Now and again, Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano catches one or more of them looking at him, whenever they believe themselves to be unobserved. Always, he observes the same mix of almost subservient devotion (worship might, perhaps, be a better word) and incredulous awe in their darting glances. Hopefully, this will never change. Or else if it ever does change, it will only be because those two emotions have visibly increased in both strength and fervency within the breasts of those beings in whom he has inspired them. If all goes well when the ships arrive at their destinations and the outcome of the confrontation that they are all currently rushing towards turns out to be all that he hopes it will be (and, given how much time and effort Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano has put into the scheme that is culminating in this little expedition, there really is no logical reason why both things should not rapidly come to pass as he has worked for and foreseen), there is a very good chance that this immensely favorable change will become a reality. Until they actually arrive, though, there is, unfortunately, very little he can do except to continue to wait. And refuse to show his exhaustion. Of course.

"If you desire to rest while we are still in transit, Aristocra - "

"You may rest if your tasks are seen to and you wish to retire. I am content."

The end of the hunt is very near, now. He is not such a piteous creature that he will rest when the confrontation is so close that he can practically taste the sweetness of victory. Seven years, he has been seeking after a means to destroy that accursed gods-touched dangerous fool, first out of respect for his father's will and later out of a genuine understanding of the need to either tame or neutralize the power represented by the visnea/-born. Admiral Ar'alani and Syndic Mitth'ras'safis have inadvertently handed him the keys to Mitth'raw'nuruodo's soul, and he plans to use them to shackle the man until Mitth'raw'nuruodo suffocates and strangles beneath the weight of the chains that he will wrap about the young Crahsystor. Afterwards, if he is smart and patient (and he /is both things), he is quite certain that it will an easy matter to arrange a suitable end for Mitth'ras'safis, as well, to pay him back for having protected Mitth'raw'nuruodo (and so kept him from falling prey to any of Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano's previous schemes) for these past seven years. There will be none left of their cursed line, then, but women who are already safely integrated with and neutralized within the bounds of other clans and Families. Then, he will be quit of this exhausting private feud and finally able to return to his own life. It will be good to be able to return to his holdings and not have to feel the weight of both an unfulfilled promise and a duty not yet properly performed mantling his shoulders like a yoke. With the honor of both his mother and her younger twin sister properly (if gradually) restored through the destruction of the entire remaining immediate clan-line of the man who offered them insult and a genuine threat to the safety and stability of the Chiss Ascendancy also laid to rest, perhaps he shall finally be able to sleep an entire night through, again.

The memory of the father of Syndic Mitth'ras'safis and Crahsystor Mitth'raw'nuruodo is a burden that Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano will be quite glad to be quit of. Ktah! To claim to refuse a woman for lahr'shausuf'dahguvik with her own twin, the living mirror of herself, and then to have the gall to announce, publicly/, that they are /moac'shaniph'koteel - ! Red hair may not be a sign of true alienness - being, instead, only the result of a very specific, very rare confluence of ancient patterns of heredity that do not fit the predominant Chiss mold - but there is shame, still, associated with the shockingly alien-seeming color, and those exceeding rare individuals who are born with the coloration universally hide and guard knowledge of their aberration with fanatical jealousy. Parents, close siblings, life-mates, and children are generally the only ones permitted to know, and even siblings and children are sometimes excluded. Emaunt'uller'nuruodo had been accounted a friend of Chaf'roen'salir's closer than any sibling, before. Chaf'orm'bintrano prefers not to think on the sheer level of intimacy hinted at by Emaunt'uller'nuruodo's knowledge of his mother and her sister's hair color, but the betrayal represented by such an insult is too horrendous to truly ignore or even forget. House Nuruodo should count itself lucky that House Chaf did not declare ausham'nemut for the entire kin-group, Second Ruling Family or no! Only the fact that Chaf'roen'salir's new wife and her identical twin also originally hailed from the Nuruodo Family had kept the then Aristocra of the Chaf Family from invoking that deadly vendetta. House Chaf had contented itself with the destruction of the clan-line of the man responsible for the insults, instead.

Chaf'orm'bintrano likely would not even know about the vendetta, were it not for the unforseen complication of the eventual and unpardonably belated discovery of an entire shadow family, hidden away within the masses of the general populace, far from the clan-lines of the Ruling Families. The issue had been considered uncomplicated and easy to close, the particulars of the case all thought to be understood the nearly forty years ago (quite a bit longer ago than the slightly more than twenty-nine years that Chaf'orm'bintrano owns as his age) that the insult was first made, to the point where a successful resolution had been thought inevitable and eventually even believed to have been accomplished. Of course, that had been before this unexpected development abruptly reopened the matter again. All things considered, Emaunt'uller'nuruodo had been a surprisingly cautious man. And his shadow wife, Air'amdea, had been both careful and ruthlessly patient. If not for the obviously suspicious circumstances surrounding the unexpected deaths of both twins - including the entire immediate wedded clan-line of the younger sister - in a fire that should not have been possible, the truth might have never been discovered. By the time the knowledge was known, it was nearly too late to do anything about it, as most of the shadow family had already been taken into other Ruling Houses, through the establishment of successful marriage bonds. Air'amdea herself had been untouchable - a late-blooming prodigy of the Defense Hierarchy, sponsored there by both her younger brother, a former merit adoptive of the Second Ruling Family and Admiral of the Fleet, Enhir'naevin, and his first-born, a daughter who would soon afterwards become Admiral Ar'alani - as impossible a target for House Chaf as her three eldest children, wedded daughters of House Inrokini, House Sabosen, and even House Csapla. To seek to invoke vendetta against any of those four women would have been to declare open war between the Chaf Family and whichever House or Hierarchy happened to claim that particular woman. Such a move would have been suicidal, in terms of the power, prestige, and status (as a Ruling Family) of the House.

Only the two youngest children - brothers who were both already merit adoptives and Trial-born members of the Mitth Family by the time Chaf'roen'salir's people finally managed to ferret out the identity of the one ultimately responsible for the terrible conflagration that had claimed his wife (Chaf'inn'ahralla) and her twin (Chaf'elk'agghja) as well as her twin's husband (Chaf'roen'salir's first cousin and essential second in command, Chaf'enru'sorn) and all seven of her twin's children (including two shadow children) - could still be touched. Those two children, though, consisted of a confirmed visnea/-born gods-touched and his guardian (apparently self-appointed, true, but no less valid a guardian for that, given Mitth'raw'nuruodo's acceptance of his protection), beings traditionally considered to be exempt from the rules of vendetta. They were also both widely known to be extremely likely to earn the status of ranking distant either by or before their third decades - positions that would give them the same immunity from simple vendetta enjoyed by their sisters and mother. Aristocra Chaf'roen'salir, though, had not allowed this to stop him from pursuing revenge against them. Chaf'orm'bintrano's promise to claim that vengeance had initially been only reluctantly given on his father's deathbed; however, his familiarization with Mitth'raw'nuruodo convinced him of the magnitude of the threat posed by the gods-touched to the stability of the Chiss Ascendancy, and so he has been pursuing an increasingly serious course of action against the visnea/-born and his protector for the past seven years. The strain of those seven years has long since begun to take its toll, not only on the as yet unmarried Chaf'orm'bintrano, but on the Chaf Family's holdings and status, as well. The duties of Chaf House are primarily diplomatic and advisory in nature, and many members responsible for those duties have been diverted from their regular positions among the colonial houses and Ruling Families to more military posts. Others have been at least mostly successfully covering for these diversions, but the Defense Hierarchy has recently become suspicious of the additional attention, and it is only a matter of time before other Ruling Families begin to notice it, as well.

Fortunately, this should all be over with before anyone else can notice what is happening or the Defense Hierarchy can piece together what the extra attention is in regards to. Air'amdea and Enhir'naevin have been sequestered in some far corner of the Chiss Ascendancy for the past half a dozen years, on some project so secret that none yet outside of the Defense Hierarchy, the highest ranks of the combined Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet, and the two Ruling Families whose duties include overseeing foreign policy and military affairs in the Chiss Ascendancy have any knowledge of what the project is or even where it might be located. Otherwise, Chaf House's activities likely would have been deduced and been brought to a rather abrupt end a long time ago. He is quite certain that the only reason he has not yet met with resounding failure in this endeavor is because the woman, for whatever reason, has chosen to keep the identity of her children's father a secret even from them. Chaf'orm'bintrano is beginning to suspect that Syndic Mitth'ras'safis, at least, has an inkling that his interest in Crahsystor Mitth'raw'nuruodo stems from more than a professional curiosity about the gods-touched /visnea/-born's abilities as a Commander. So it will not only be an immense relief to him personally, to finally be quit of this burden, but also an extremely good development for the Chaf Family's welfare and reputation, to be done with this task at long last. In less than two hours, now, they should reach the battlefield. Two hours or less, and he should finally be in possession of definitive proof of Crahsystor Mitth'raw'nuruodo's failure to abide by the Non-Aggression Law that is the only legally binding example of the philosophical ideal that the whole of Chiss society has embraced, now, for over five thousand years, regarding preemptive strikes and unprovoked, openly aggressive military actions. And then he will finally have the means to force Mitth'raw'nuruodo either into exile or ignominy and death, which will destroy Mitth'ras'safis, as well. All he need do now is make it through these last two hours.

Soon, now. Soon, it will come to a head. Soon, it will be over with. One way or another. He will be able to account his oath to his father and his duty to his mother and her kin fulfilled.

Then, he will be able to tend to his true duties, as Aristocra of Chaf House, the Fifth Ruling Family of the Chiss Ascendancy.

***

Anxiety and concern surround Qui-Gon in a miasma so strong that he is not at all surprised when the inevitable question finally comes. Master Revan?

Steeling himself to patience, he carefully asks back, Yes, Qui-Gon?

Should we not be concerned about the others who are converging on this battlefield?

Qui-Gon is so genuinely concerned that it isn't as difficult as it could have been to answer with at least a certain amount of gentleness. Admiral Ar'alani is Mitth'raw'nuruodo's mentor and patron within the Chiss military and Mitth'ras'safis has been his protector since before his family was even aware of the fact that Mitth'raw'nuruodo is what the Chiss know as gods-touched. They will keep him safe.

All his gentleness is for naught, though. Instead of accepting Revan's assurances, he frowns even more severely, the lines of worry on Qui-Gon's ghostly face deepening to crevasses. This other Chiss seems quite determined to put an end to your Mitth'raw'nuruodo, though, and, from what I can gather, legally, he should be able to make the charges that he's considering leveling against the Commander stick.

Resisting the to sigh, Revan replies with a careful reminder. Qui-Gon. I have asked you not to refer to Mitth'raw'nuruodo as if he were a possession.

Ah. Yes, well, forgive me, Master, but -

Patience swiftly departing in the face of Qui-Gon's persistent obstinacy, Revan cuts him off, telling his apprentice rather tartly, Have some faith, Qui-Gon. Between Admiral Ar'alani and Syndic Mitth'ras'safis, young Jedi Knight Jinzler and others of note aboard Outbound Flight, and Jorj Car'das, I believe Mitth'raw'nuruodo will be very well protected, indeed.

Yes, but this Aristocra fellow -

Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano has been more than a little uneasy over the circumstances surrounding this vendetta ever since he first learned of it. He was trapped into making a promise that he did not wish to make to a dying man he barely knew and is no longer entirely certain was worthy of the title he claimed, while living. And though he's nearly managed to convince himself that his disquiet over Mitth'raw'nuruodo is due to his certainty that the young Crahsystor is a threat to the peace and order of the Chiss Ascendancy, the truth is far simpler. He is afraid of Mitth'raw'nuruodo, frightened of the possibility of change that Mitth'raw'nuruodo embodies, as one gods-touched. If his plans are thwarted here, Chaf'orm'bintrano will have no choice but to return to the greater duties of his household. And he will not return to them with a great deal of reluctance. Some anger, perhaps, but not a great deal of unwillingness. Give him a little time to think things over, at some distance from Mitth'raw'nuruodo, and enough information for him to grasp even a part of the larger picture, and I believe he will come around. He certainly has a great deal of potential, as an ally. Ar'alani and the Defense Hierarchy will likely seek to recruit him, after things have had a while to settle, and I do not believe he will tell them 'No' forever.

Instead of taking the hint, Qui-Gon lets his worried frown change to a challenging scowl. Are you sure, though? He seems very determined to bring Mitth'raw'nuruodo up on charges!

Quite sure. I am also quite certain that you still have a great deal to learn about the Chiss, young one. But we can talk on this more, later. Come, now. They should be ready to fetch Car'das out of that bubble. I wish to be on hand when it happens, to see how he reacts to having a Jedi among his rescuers.

The sense of a long-suffering sigh makes Revan have to fight to keep from making an observation that will only spark another long (and fairly useless, given how hard-headed Qui-Gon is) argument about what a dismal student Qui-Gon makes. Luckily, though, his silence pays off. Although clearly unhappy, Qui-Gon nods his head and replies (fairly meekly),/ Yes, Master./

The urge to second-guess himself for agreeing to let Qui-Gon "help" him influence the outcome of this battle is strong, but Revan resists. After all, it would only lead him back to the same old argument he's been having with himself about Qui-Gon pretty much ever since he first tried to help him, after Naboo. And he has more important things to do, right now, than to waste any more of his time worrying about something that can't be changed and can't really be helped, now, either. Time enough to worry about Qui-Gon after things are a bit more settled with Mitth'raw'nuruodo and /Outbound Flight/.

***

The battle has essentially been over for over two hours and Car'das has had enough time to start to get seriously bored before he finally hears the rhythmic tapping at his back. With a relieved smile, he half turns over and raps the same pattern against his plastic prison with the edge of the macrobinoculars. Then, turning back around to face the stars, he tries to work some of the kinks out of his muscles while he waits. He doesn't have to wait for very long, though. Rescue, when it arrives, does so in a sudden flurry of activity. Behind him, the door to his prison pops open and he feels the sudden tugging of vacuum at his lungs and face as the air pressure in his bubble explodes outward, shoving him backward out into the corridor. Car'das catches a glimpse of vac-suited humanoid figures surrounding him as he's enveloped in a tangle of sticky cloth. Then, before he can do more than scrabble his fingertips against it in an effort to push it away from his face, there's a harsh hissing in his ears, and the cloth recedes from him in all directions. A moment later he finds himself floating safely inside a transparent rescue ball.

"Whoa," he mutters, wincing as his ears pop painfully with the returning air pressure.

"Are you all right?" a comfortingly familiar voice asks from the comlink connected to the ball's oxygen tank.

"Yes, Commander, thank you," he assures the other. "I gather it all worked as planned?"

"Yes," Thrawn confirms, his voice sounding oddly rough, as if the Commander is coming down with a cold of some sort. "For the most part."

One of the other rescuers walks closer and, to his surprise, Car'das finds himself staring at someone he's never seen before - a startled looking, older human male in distinctive brown, tan, and beige robes. Blue eyes wide and staring in shock, the Jedi asks, "A human?" frowning through the plastic. "What is a human doing/ here?/"

"Luring the Vagaari into my trap, of course, Master Evrios," Thrawn replies, as if it should be obvious. "The Chiss do not engage in preemptive attacks, Master Jedi, but these beings were a threat and needed to be dealt with."

"But how did a human even come to be here?" the Jedi presses, clearly confused.

"Through a hyperdrive malfunction," Car'das offers helpfully. "My two companions and I have been with Commander Thrawn for several months, trying to help him learn more about the Vagaari so he could do something about them. Maris Ferasi and I have been teaching the Commander Basic in his spare time, for which he has graciously been providing us with lessons in the local trade language, Minnisiat, and also the Chiss language, Cheunh, though neither one of us is very good at actually speaking much of anything in the second. The Commander thinks there are some actual differences in the way our vocal chords work that's keeping us from being able to speak Cheunh properly," he adds, shrugging. Then, turning to Thrawn, he adds, "I guess things went well with Outbound Flight since you've got a Jedi in your boarding party, huh? I told you Commander Stratis and Vicelord Kav were liars. Jedi are the good guys. It's It's the Force-sensitives who go over to the Dark Side and the Sith you have to watch out for."

The Jedi raises a considering eyebrow at this but it's the Commander who responds. "Things went as well as could be considered, Car'das, considering the fact that Vicelord Kav was most decidedly not lying about Jorus C'baoth being corrupted by the Sith Lord Sidious."

"No?" Car'das asks, a spike of alarm flaring through him. "So what happened? Does this mean we have a Dark Jedi on our hands we're going to have to deal with?"

"It does not," the Jedi replies. "Master C'baoth fell to the Dark Side and attempted to strangle the Commander with the Force. Jedi Knight Lorana Jinzler and some of the passengers who have been alarmed by the way that Master C'baoth had been seizing more and more power over the everyday lives of the crew and colonists intervened, and Jedi Jinzler was able to . . . neutralize the threat."

"Which is to say that she turned her lightsaber on her former Master in defense of my life, breaking the stranglehold that C'baoth had on me through the Force and cutting him down," Thrawn adds, explaining both the odd hoarseness to his voice and the reason why he is still alive. "It was Bendu Knight Jinzler who led the attack on the minds of the Vagaari commanders and gunners and therefore allowed the droid starfighters to do their work. Thanks to her, I have been able to form a true alliance with the people of /Outbound Flight/and so Admiral Ar'alani will be able to take the freed Geroon slaves back to their world."

Car'das feels his heart freeze in his chest at the Commander's calm words. "Admiral Ar'alani?" he asks, voice rising to what he would have considered an embarrassingly high squeak under any other set of circumstances. "Is she here?"

"Do not be concerned, my friend," Thrawn assures him with a small smile. "While the Admiral could not afford to be involved in any of this, even unofficially, you may rest assured that she supports the actions that have been taken here against the Vagaari and will be aiding us in our clean-up efforts when she arrives. Which should occur within the next half hour."

"But she and Thrass have already been investigating you for the actions you've taken against the Vagaari, and all you did then was steal one of their gravity well projectors! With Outbound Flight here - "

The Jedi Master's lips quirk upwards into a wry smile, his face immediately looking much younger, and he notes, "Oh, I wouldn't worry overmuch if I were you, young man. I think that, between the Force-sensitivity of seventeen Jedi who are firmly anchored in the Light and the sheer brilliance of Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo, we will be able to come up with a way to deal with any troublesome issues that might arise because of the arrival of this Admiral Ar'alani. Trust in the Force: it has yet to steer us wrong this day."

Several heartbeats of silence follow that calm proclamation. Car'das eventually has to look away from the Jedi's far too serene face, his eyes catching glimpses of dead Vagaari as the Chiss continue carrying him along. "If you say so," he finally says, not bothering to hide his uncertainty. "May I come with you, Commander, when you go to speak with the Admiral?"

"I would prefer it if you would rest for a time, Car'das. Your companions have noticed your absence and they are concerned about you," Thrawn replies, his voice gentle. "You will want to send word back to them, to reassure them of your well-being."

"It won't take that long to prepare a message to send back to them. And I'm not that tired. I can rest later, Commander. Honestly. I want to be there when you speak to Admiral Ar'alani. If she thinks she needs someone to blame this on, she can damn well blame /me/, since I'm the one who went to the Vagaari and brought them here in the first place," Car'das immediately retorts, lifting his chin stubbornly.

Thrawn breathes out in what could almost be called a sigh and makes that small hand gesture that is the Chiss version of a shrug. "As you wish, Car'das. Come. She should be arriving soon, and I would be on hand to welcome her when she does."

***

Master Evrios returns from helping Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo in his efforts to clear the disabled Vagaari ships of any Vagaari survivors and to round up and see to all of the Vagaari prisoners with news, finally, regarding the source of the very human voice from the largest of the Vagaari warships. Having absorbed more than a few of Mitth'raw'nuruodo's memories of Jorj Car'das, Lorana is concerned to hear Master Evrios describe Car'das as bearing the bruises of an obvious beating, and she finds herself a little disappointed and yet oddly reassured (even pleased) to hear that he will be resting from his ordeal instead of accompanying Mitth'raw'nuruodo and Admiral Ar'alani aboard /Outbound Flight/, when they come aboard to discuss what their next move will be. The memories Mitth'raw'nuruodo shared with her regarding the young man have left her with an extremely favorable opinion of Car'das and an even greater curiosity regarding the kind of impression that he might have on her, face-to-face, and so Lorana has been looking forward to meeting the young man in the flesh. However, she's also glad to know that his injuries are going to be seen to and that he's going to be given a chance to recuperate some from his time among the Vagaari, and so she contents herself with Master Evrios' vivid and frankly impressed description of Car'das' obvious loyalty to Mitth'raw'nuruodo and the resiliency he displayed in his dismissal of his own injuries in order to accompany the Commander to his meeting with Admiral Ar'alani. Car'das' distrust of Ar'alani is slightly disconcerting, given the sense of almost familial warmth that Mitth'raw'nuruodo's memories seem to hold for the woman, but it reminds her to be careful of the Admiral, when she comes aboard, and not to assume anything about her attitudes or beliefs based only on the impression she has of Ar'alani from her brief sharing with Mitth'raw'nuruodo. She would hate to give the Admiral the wrong impression, and not only because she senses that Ar'alani's good opinion means something to Mitth'raw'nuruodo. The Admiral is, after all, the Commander's superior officer, and Lorana frankly has a feeling that they are going to need the Admiral's good will, if they're going to get everything sorted out to everyone's satisfaction.

She is pleased when the decision is made to go down to the hanger in order to welcome Admiral Ar'alani aboard, and her lone worry, as she accompanies Masters Evrios and Ma'Ning down to the proper level, revolves around the fact that there hasn't been enough time to change into more formal robes before they'll need to be on hand to greet the Chiss. Still, all things considered, she's mostly certain that Admiral Ar'alani will understand that the situation and circumstances surrounding their meeting will necessarily limit the amount of ceremony they can bring to bear. So she's only a little nervous as she steps into the hangar where the Chiss vehicle has so recently settled, calmly waiting in between the two Jedi Masters as the hatch slides open. As soon as the shuttle's hatchway opens (with a melodious chiming that reminds her of a water carillon), half a dozen black-clad Chiss warriors come through, taking up ceremonial-looking flanking positions on either side of the hatchway. It isn't until after the warriors have taken their places that the two figures they are waiting for appear, Mitth'raw'nuruodo standing to the left of a fairly tall, slender female Chiss dressed from collar to boots not in the familiar black of the Chiss warriors and their Commander but rather in the dazzling white of the Defense Hierarchy. The sight of the Admiral in her all but blindingly white uniform is familiar rather than startling, thanks to the knowledge Mitth'raw'nuruodo shared with her, and Lorana is thankful for the information, as it allows her to focus on more important things than what the Admiral is wearing, including the sense of Ar'alani in the Force - strong but untried, in a way that reminds Lorana of Bail Organa, the Crown Prince of Alderaan who would have surely been well on his way to becoming a Jedi Master by now if not for the fact that the lines of succession had marked him at birth as a potential heir to the throne of Alderaan. She is not the blazing furnace of a star's heart that Mitth'raw'nuruodo is in the Force (she would have to be nearly as strong and as vibrantly bright in the Force as Obi-Wan or Anakin, for that), but Lorana would guess that she is easily potentially as strong as Lorana herself is. And while she certainly seems more than a little wary - perhaps even a bit anxious - she is also hugely relieved, and Lorana can sense nothing like malice or dislike for them about her, which bodes well for the meeting.

Still, Lorana waits as the two Chiss leaders stride past their escort into the hanger, waiting until they've crossed to a place approximately halfway across the hangar from their shuttle to the doors, coming to a crisp stop just over a meter away from them - Ar'alani a little bit in front of the Commander, given her superior rank - and then waits another heartbeat, just to be on the safe side, before formally intoning, in flawless Cheunh, "In the name of all who serve life, I greet you, Admiral Ar'alani," as she takes a small step towards the two Chiss, "and you as well, Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Please, be welcome aboard our ship."

The Admiral's eyes widen a fraction, as though she has not quite believed, until just then, the claim that Lorana has used the Force to learn to speak the Chiss language, but the surprise is not enough to make her pause, and her response is equally flawless as she ceremoniously replies, "I accept your greeting, and greet you in return, Jedi Bendu Knight Lorana Jinzler. Do you guarantee my safety, and the safety of my crew?"

"I guarantee your safety with my life and the lives of those of my companions and fellow Jedi," Lorana promises, bowing her head low. "Enter in peace, and with trust."

Ar'alani bows crisply in return. "Who are these who stand behind you?" she asks, her tone subtly changing to signal the end of the ceremony.

"These are Jedi Masters Ma'Ning and Evrios," Lorana replies with careful politeness, half turning to gesture at each of them in turn. "Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo may have spoken to you of them."

It isn't meant as a question, but Ar'alani nods, and Mitth'raw'nuruodo takes the small step forward that will place him on equal footing with the Admiral, quietly noting, "Bendu Knight Lorana taught them both Minnisiat, and they made themselves most helpful in organizing and aiding with the boarding parties. I did not lose a single warrior in the ship-to-ship sweeps, and this is so in part due to their efforts."

"We are grateful to them for their aid, then," Ar'alani politely notes, inclining her head towards first Master Ma'Ning and then Master Evrios, who acknowledge the thanks by bowing their heads in turn. Switching to Minnisiat, she then adds, "But I am currently more concerned about the battle itself - and about your presence here, on the outskirts of Chiss space. Can you explain your mission to me, please? I would like to hear it in your own words."

"Would you like to come up to the bridge, Admiral? There are files you may wish to see," Lorana immediately offers in the same trade language, reassured by Ar'alani's open curiosity.

"Yes." The Admiral nods definitively before, apparently as an afterthought, adding, "That should do, for starters."

"If you would come this way, then, Admiral . . . " Lorana steps to the side, intending to allow Ar'alani and Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo both to proceed her and walk with the two Jedi Masters, since they clearly all outrank her, careful all the while not to make any motions that might even be interpreted as gestures meant to allow her to touch either of the Chiss.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo surprises her, though, by giving her an elegant bow, and then offering her his arm, clearly meaning to escort her back to the bridge of D-1. She hesitates, remembering his almost vehement refusal to allow her to see the wounds on his neck from her former Master's attempt at Force-choking him and the sense of pained, almost shameful embarrassment that had come from him earlier, at the memory of touching her inappropriately (according to him and the traditions of his people) in his efforts to protect her from the Dark energies released from Jorus C'baoth's body at his death. She desperately wants to question the action, but even her limited diplomatic skills are enough to inform her that it would be a less than polite thing to ask about, given the sense of something like a cultural taboo surrounding the issue of touch itself, especially if she is somehow interpreting his gesture wrong or if this is meant as a test, of some sort, of her understanding of Chiss customs. Before she can quite panic, though, Mitth'raw'nuruodo inclines his head ever so slightly, mouth moving to the shape of a reassuring, oddly human-looking smile, moving his offered arm towards her the barest fraction, in all but blatant offering. Her response is as automatic as her trust that he would not knowingly lead her astray or into an action that might jeopardize their still nascent alliance: she takes his arm with a grateful smile and a shy smile, moved by the gallant gesture. Ar'alani raises an eyebrow slightly, the gesture striking Lorana as being more thoughtful than startled, but otherwise doesn't respond as she falls in with the two Jedi Masters and they begin to make their way up towards the bridge, their six-member escort team falling in behind their little group of five with military precision and an almost Jedi-like silence. She is not surprised when Mitth'raw'nuruodo uses the cover of the small talk that has arisen between Masters Ma'Ning and Evrios and Admiral Ar'alani about the combined ship of the Outbound Flight Project to lean in close and whisper, "We are sworn and confirmed allies now, and so this is proper." Then, a bit more hesitantly, he adds, "I thought the show of trust would be appreciated, given our slight misunderstanding, before."

Pitching her voice so that it will reach no further than his ears, she tells him, "I do appreciate the gesture, Commander. And the explanation. I am sorry about earlier. I was not thinking beyond my wish to help."

"No harm was intended and none was taken. Think nothing more of it, please. I would not wish for you to worry for no reason. You are doing well."

"Commander?" Lorana blinks at him, startled by the sudden praise and at a loss as to how to respond to it.

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Please. And you are doing well. You reacted definitely and firmly to proof of one in your midst who was as a traitor to your people. You accepted information and aid when it was offered and acted to protect those who were acting as potential allies through such offers. You have proven yourselves able to care for the well-being and general rights of sentient beings who have no ties of alliance to you and quite capable of understanding an ethical injustice when you see it and of seeking to right it. You are a demonstrably honorable people, even if your sense of propriety and morality do not quite match up with ours. The Admiral is impressed. She did not believe that so many from your Republic would prove to be so compatible with the Chiss. I'm afraid that Car'das struck her as naive and somewhat atypical of his peers rather than as a properly representative example of his people."

Understanding the source of the praise to be not so much herself as the whole contingent of their mission, Lorana gives him an understanding little half smile and notes, "She does not know him or his companions as you do. It would be a logical assumption to make, from what I understand of the situation and circumstances surrounding their meeting. I'm glad to help put that misunderstanding right. I hope we continue to make a favorable impression."

"Only continue as you are, and I'm certain it will be an inevitability."

"I hope you're right," she hesitates slightly, still a little uncertain as to the appropriateness of calling him by his first name with such familiarity, despite his earlier insistance, before finally gathering up her courage enough to add, "Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

"I am most often right about such things," is the Commander's calmly assured response, his tone so matter-of-fact that the declaration strikes her as a bald statement of fact, with pride entering nowhere into the equation. He reinforces this impression by raising a considering eyebrow at her and adding, "It is a gift perhaps tied to this Force of yours."

"Yours as well," is her automatic response, the insistence in her voice startling her a little. Distracted by her own vehemence, she finds herself continuing without waiting for a response, telling him, "And you're probably right about that. But the Jedi Order teaches that the future is always in motion, and reality has a way of rarely conforming to expectations. At this point, I would rather not take anything for granted."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo merely inclines his head in polite acknowledgment, apparently not noticing her sudden distraction. "Wise. We Chiss have a similar belief."

Pulled back to the here and now by the obviously leading statement, Lorana finds herself frowning slightly, voicing an inquiring, "Oh?"

His face so blankly still that she would've had no trouble understanding why others, less familiar with the Commander, might have found his lack of expression humorless and even a bit forbidding, he solemnly recites, "Expectations of surety, like good intentions, are the surest way to pave a road to doom."

She manages not to laugh. Barely. But she can't keep from grinning at him, delighted by both his understanding and the quirkiness of the joke, and for a few moments everything else (including a sudden sharp-eyed glance from Admiral Ar'alani) recedes before the tide of shared warmth and good will between them. Smiling wide enough to make her nose crinkle slightly, she arches an eyebrow at him and, mock-seriously, notes, "Well, in that case, I'll have to be doubly careful, won't I?"

He doesn't quite smile, but his eyes glitter in a way that clearly reveals his good humor as he rather nonchalantly replies, "I'm sure you'll rise to the challenge with admirable grace, just as you have to all other such challenges, thus far."

The urge to laugh is almost overwhelming, and Lorana's already huge smile widens even more as she replies, half accusingly, "Flatterer."

"Speaker of truth," is his instant retort.

She has to swallow hard to hold in a snicker at that. "So you say."

"Yes."

The reply is both so serene and so final that there seems nothing else to say to it, and so she simply allows her hand to tighten, momentarily, on his arm, silently thanking him for the vote of confidence and quietly begging the Force to allow him to be proven right as the turbolift that will take them to the bridge and to the discussion that will likely decide the fate of both their alliance and the mission of Outbound Flight comes in sight around the curve of the corridor.

Force will it be as you say, Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Force will it be so.

***

As it turns out, Syndic Mitth'ras'safis is still far too distraught over the revelation of the (patently irresponsible, given how little she's apparently been told about Mitth'raw'nuruodo's actual plans) gamble Admiral Ar'alani has taken with his brother's life to accompany her when she goes to meet with Mitth'raw'nuruodo, after they've arrived on the outskirts of the battlefield. Instead, after taking a quick (and more than a little bit appalled) survey of the sheer amount of carnage, he forces himself to assume at least a semblance of calm, and sets to making himself useful in another way, by overseeing the warriors of the Defense Fleet units as they coordinate with his little brother's own warriors as well as his new allies aboard Outbound Flight to see to the comfort and well-being of the various slaves (most of them Geroons) freed from the cowardly bubble-shields of the Vagaari warships. In the back of his mind, Mitth'ras'safis is hoping to find a way to come to terms with the hideous risk Ar'alani has taken with his brother (not to mention the insanely dangerous route Mitth'raw'nuruodo has chosen, in pursuing plans that so obviously fly in the face of thousands of years of tradition of Chiss tradition and law, regarding the odious notions of unprovoked aggression and such so-called preventative measures as first strike actions) by observing the aftermath of the apparently successful mission among those who will benefit most directly from the action - the rescued prisoners and slaves of the Vagaari. Instead, within half an hour, he finds himself entering the transport's cargo bay only to catch sight of one of the few faces all but guaranteed to be able to shatter his hard-won aplomb.

The human Jorj Car'das is standing the length of a good-sized room away from him, with his back turned mostly towards Mitth'ras'safis, gazing out across the cargo bay and its somewhat shell-shocked occupants with an expression of considerable relief. Slowly shifting slightly to his left so as to gain a better line of sight to the young man's face without also drawing his attention, Mitth'ras'safis narrows his eyes in consideration and scrutinizes the young human thoroughly for several moments. Thankfully, given his currently somewhat fragile hold over his self-control, Mitth'ras'safis can find no obvious signs of self-satisfaction in the boy. In fact, to his discerning eyes, Car'das looks much more exhausted than complacent. Obviously, the human has had a rough time of it. He is holding himself as though his back hurts him, and Mitth'ras'safis can see where bruises are still forming on the boy's forearms (bared by carelessly shoved-back sleeves) and right cheekbone. Apparently, his part in the day's events have been a true test of the young one's abilities and reserves. Surprisingly enough, Mitth'ras'safis finds himself wondering if his brother truly does appreciate the amount of sheer bloody-minded loyalty and even devotion (with an increasingly obvious potential for fanaticism) he is able to inspire in others. Mitth'ras'safis had objected when Ar'alani referred to the three humans from the Bargain Hunter as his little brother's pets; however, looking at Jorj Car'das now, he finds himself wondering if perhaps the Admiral had not recognized and understood something he had not been able or prepared to truly see. Though Mitth'ras'safis is fairly certain that matters haven't changed so greatly with the other two humans, Car'das is clearly showing sign of having graduated from blind hero-worship to the sort of extremely studied and determined commitment that, to Mitth'ras'safis, is much more familiar from observing a true warrior's fidelity to his duty and his household.

The realization is more than a little disconcerting. Mitth'ras'safis is used to thinking of Car'das as a child - an overly enthusiastic and curious boy, much more likely to be a distraction or a potential liability than an actual, active threat. He is not blind, though: he has seen the way Car'das has looked at his brother. If the child truly has matured and grown into himself enough to become the man he certainly seems to be, then this young human male is much more of a threat to Mitth'raw'nuruodo than that woman, Maris Ferasi, could ever be, irregardless of Admiral Ar'alani's opinion on the matter. Ferasi has interwoven her life with that of Dubrak Qennto. She may gaze upon Mitth'raw'nuruodo with her eyes shining as though half the stars of creation have fallen down into them, but it is only infatuation, born of a mix of actual admiration for and fascination with the alienness of Mitth'raw'nuruodo. She knows too little about the Crahsystor and is far too comfortable with her chosen mate to ever seriously consider pursuing some kind of deeper relationship with Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Car'das, on the other hand . . . Car'das is obviously not attached to any of his own people and, moreover, has already openly requested permission to remain with Mitth'raw'nuruodo when his friends are allowed to depart for Republic space. And he has obviously chosen to dedicate himself in some way to Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Which means that Car'das is now a very real potential danger to Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Not because the Chiss are foolish enough to be bothered by such things as the gender of those beings who willingly choose to become more intimately involved with one another, though. Rather, because the somewhat . . . isolationist tendencies of their society unfortunately tends to encourage xenophobic tendencies in certain small-minded individuals who would likely cause a panic or a furor or both over even the possibility of someone like Mitth'raw'nuruodo becoming close in such a way to a being with a background and point of origin and loyalties as unknown and unproven as Car'das'.

And that means that if Mitth'ras'safis still wishes to protect his little brother and Car'das is indeed still planning on remaining behind, when the Bargain Hunter leaves, Mitth'ras'safis is going to have to see to it that Car'das finds someone else to become attached to. Quickly. And thoroughly. Somehow. Otherwise, they'll have Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano and others like him, if not worse, working to undermine Mitth'raw'nuruodo at every turn. And, to make things even more interesting, Mitth'ras'safis is going to have to do this without Mitth'raw'nuruodo (or even worse, perhaps, Car'das, who likely would not appreciate any attempted explanation) catching on to what he's doing. Otherwise, knowing his little brother, Mitth'raw'nuruodo will immediately attempt to initiate a deeper relationship with Car'das, purely out of a perverse need to prove to the galaxy at large that he cannot be bullied or manipulated by beings as small-minded or mean-spirited as Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano, just because he would enjoy the challenge of offering up such proof. And he would do it, too. Even if it lost him his place and station, he would do it, if only prove the point. Well. And to assuage his own curiosity. Mitth'raw'nuruodo's sense of self-preservation has never been able to completely counter his curiosity. Ktah! As if Mitth'ras'safis did not already have his hands more than filled, between his own duties and his responsibility to his younger brother, or Mitth'raw'nuruodo's position were not already precarious enough! Sighing explosively, Mitth'ras'safis forces himself to relax his hands (which keep trying to double over into fists) and to regain his earlier semblance of calm. He's going to have to either get on much better terms with Car'das or else come to some sort of understanding with the human, if he wants to be able to accomplish this without either Mitth'raw'nuruodo or Car'das himself figuring out what it is that he's attempting to do. And that means that he really should speak to the young man now, no matter how frustrated he might currently be with his brother.

Sighing again, Mitth'ras'safis determinedly begins to cross the space dividing them. If Car'das has a weakness, it is his determination to be of use to Mitth'raw'nuruodo. There might be a way for him to use that as a lever, if he can only capture enough of the young man's attention to interest him sufficiently in Outbound Flight and its occupants . . .

***