The Gray and the Unchained: The Cost of Freedom

[Karmack]

Illyiss ... that was beautiful.  :-)

[Lord_S_Gray]

Scrubber seems to have made a big mistake here – not in accusing Ken of being a spy, but by rushing to a public trial when he could’ve had BA sort out the truth privately – but perhaps that is the price of his passion, his determination to protect his sires and sirras gets the better of him – you’ve written him as a great man who makes mistakes but is greater still for recognising that he does.

The idea of BA as the “curator of truth.” was a cool switch and seems to have changed Kens mind about him…still probably suspicious of him, but knows he’s not running the show at least – but the depths of the memory delve and focus on Ken’s temporary death will likely worry him as he reflects upon it later on…

[TheDrunkenConsular]

Excellent chapter!  I was worried about where this one was gonna go after the last installment, but Ken pulled some true Jedi wisdom off there!

[TheDutchman]

...Wow...

I...wow...

The best writing can show a person who is both great and fallible, strong yet afraid, victorious in defeat while feeling defeated by victory.  And you did that for Ken AND Scrubber!  Clearly, there was NOTHING "black or white" concerning this event but it shows that true passion and loyalty can come to odds, that the designs of people can have the best of intentions that result in the saddest of outcomes...

Bravo my friend!  Wonderfully done!

[Illyiss]

Illyiss ... that was beautiful.  :-)

Thank you, good sir, it was but a response to well crafted story telling.  I raise glass to you, in this.

Scrubber seems to have made a big mistake here – not in accusing Ken of being a spy, but by rushing to a public trial when he could’ve had BA sort out the truth privately – but perhaps that is the price of his passion, his determination to protect his sires and sirras gets the better of him – you’ve written him as a great man who makes mistakes but is greater still for recognising that he does.

This is where rushing in, acting only from a place of emotion gets you.  Emotion is an amazing motivator, provides exquisite fuel, but must be tempered with reason.  Revel in emotion, delve it, let it have it's place, but them own it and control it, to get you where you seek to go.

Also, fools rush in and all that.

[Karmack]

You guys are to kind.  :-)  Ken learned a lot in this.  His biggest regret will be that he ends up having to walk away and cannot stay and continue to contribute.  :-/

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 10: Detente, Part I

With a flurry of pseudomotion, the Wayfarer exited the hyperspace tunnel within sensor range of the outer asteroid ring of the M’Tzigon System.  Smoothly avoiding the coalescing rocks, the upgraded freighter sped star-ward towards the system’s beautiful terrestrial planet of tall, snowcapped mountains and azure blue oceans.  Even before they’d cleared the nearest relative Lagrangian point, Ken had transmitted the proper IFF codes.  As the Wayfarer approached the planet’s oversized moon—itself orbited by two, smaller natural satellites—the ship gracefully bisected the distance between the larger and one of the smaller moons, the pilot course-correcting as the ship entered into an orbital insertion trajectory.

“Nice stick-work Jorya!” Ken’s compliment made the Togruta’s orange cheeks go a deeper hue as she sat in the pilot’s seat.  Good-naturedly, Ken clapped Jorya’s shoulder.  “And that’s what the Men-At-Arms colloquially call ‘Threading the Needle.’”  Ken checked the instrument banks, his scrutiny second nature despite the fact that he was in the co-pilot’s seat.  “Your piloting is as good as any Mak’Tor!”

Jorya’s pleased smile was somewhat bashful.  “Thanks to you, Ken.  Really, I can’t thank you enough for you teaching me.”  Her slender fingers danced over the controls as she entered in new coordinates intent on making reentry into the atmosphere as smooth as she’d seen Ken.  Gritting her teeth as she hit turbulence, Jorya knew that she hadn’t done quite as well as him but was pleased nonetheless; Ken was right: she had improved.

As soon as the Wayfarer dropped through to the troposphere, Jorya entered the coordinates for final approach to the M’Skigon Spaceport.  Located in a valley between the towering crests of the M’Skigon and M’H’Ron Mountains, peaks capped with snow upon the indigenous granite native only to M’Tzigon, the spaceport fed into the center of the huge metropolitan area of Sierra, capital city of the Mak’Tor.

Adjacent to the spaceport, the enormous dome of the Temple of Balance stood upon one of the few hills within the valley, the famous Mak’Tor Spire stabbing skyward as the granite scintillated in the clear day at noon.  In the distance, the clouded twin peaks of Mount Arvon stood imposing above even the surrounding M’H’Ron mountain range.  Landing smoothly, the Wayfarer docked on Pad 3.

As the main hatch of the Wayfarer descended, Ken jumped out even before the ramp had hit the deck.  Looking around, he saw that they already had a small entourage awaiting them.  Seeing his father, almost a head taller than everyone else, he gave a wave as he mentally collected his thoughts.  As Jorya and Ry joined him, Ken noticed that the small group included both of the young Knights’ parents.  Before anyone else greeted him, Ken’s mother was there hugging him tightly to her.  As she disengaged, she looked up at her tall son, pride and relief evident in her green eyes.

“So glad to have you back home, Ken.”  Even as she spoke, her astute gaze took in everything, not the least of which was the young Chiss woman standing next to Jorya.  “And it looks like you have a good many things to tell your mother.” Arnor’s wry smile was knowing.  “But later, the Council is waiting for you.”

As Ken was busy with Arnor, Jorya saw her own mother and father.  Rushing up to the tall Togruta, Zearic enveloped her in a crushing bear hug that lifted her bodily off of the ground.  “…Dad…good to…see you…too!” She said in between breathes of air as her wide father smiled, finally setting her down.  Jorya turned to her much shorter mother, wrapping D’Aylanna in a hug.  “Mother!”  The Hapan woman’s smile was a mirror of Arnor’s: pride and relief in equal measure.

“Dear One…your father and I cannot tell you how good it is to see you returned to us.” D’Aylanna sobered quickly.  “But Arnor is right; you two are expected and the Council summons you both forthwith.”  Gently but firmly, D’Aylanna guided Jorya to the large speeder that the group had arrived in.  Having apparently the same thing in mind, Karm and Arnor had gathered Ken and Ry and were already aboard.  

As they sped away, they had little time for anything but pleasantries as the two Gray Koawans prepared for the Council.

            <<<<< >>>>>

“Knights Ken’A’Nia Mack and Jorya Fah, join the circle and enter Balance.” Kage Silman’s voice intoned, echoing through the mostly empty dome.  Only a handful of Grays were in attendance but the list of Jedi Masters was remarkable: including the Zabrak Kage, the Mak’Tor Council was seated in a semi-circle as if to admit a petitioner. And although neither woman was a member of the Council, Master Er’Lav Racc and Maenowan Telow’na Jackson were also in attendance.  Finally, off to the left were Karm and Arnor and—as a courtesy—D’Aylanna and Zearic. The rest of the Hall of Balance was empty, apropos given the secret nature of the mission; Ry had been given a comfortable room in the Bachelor’s Quarters on the Temple grounds.  

“As many of you know, we sent out these two koawans to surveil and ascertain the exact nature of the Sons of Kessel.  While we received many microburst transmissions detailing logistical and tactical capabilities concerning the ‘day-to-day’ nuances, I would like your personal assessment regarding the Sons themselves.”  Kage Silman Lo’s voice was formal, carrying throughout the Dome of Balance.  Suddenly but perceptibly, the assemblage saw the Zabrak’s stature relax adopting a more casual demeanor.  His blue eyes kind, Kage Silman smiled.  “Ken…Jorya…I—the Council—want to hear what you think.  Not about…facts; rather, I want your impressions…your feelings.”  His turned to the Mak’Tor knight.  “Ken, please proceed.”

As both Ken and Jorya were already standing, the young Knight stepped forward.  “Forgive me, Kage, but I would ask a small favor from the Council: that I defer my testament until after Knight Fah’s.”  He and Jorya had discussed this at length during their voyage home; as such, he could feel her support for him in the Song, her thread in fugue with his and Ry’s.  Ken stood tall in the center of the Council, a striking figure despite his utilities.

There was a low droning amongst the Masters as they briefly spoke; after all, Ken had not exactly followed decorum.  But this was an informal briefing and they all held the young man in the highest respect.  After noting all of their nods, Kage Silman spoke.  “The Council concurs; so be it.  Jorya, please begin.”  As the muscular Zabrak sat at the apex of the semi-circle, all eyes turned to the tall Togruta.  Despite being as travel-worn as Ken, Jorya’s beautiful face projected confidence and maturity.

“Kage, masters,” she began, “During our time with the Sons we were more than witness to their operations.  We…lived with them as one of them.”  She took a slow, inhaling breath as she gathered her thoughts.  “I saw from the start that the Sons were more than just some anti-slavery protesters with an ulterior agenda.  They believe in what they stand for.  One and all they are vehemently opposed to not only the institution but also the proliferation of slavery.  They value the lives of slaves, see them as more than ‘property’ or just as a statistic.”

Jorya looked at every Council member in turn, her blue eyes intelligent, clear, and unwavering.  “Their leader, Scrubber, is a man of conviction…of ideals.  He sincerely cares for his people—and they sincerely for him—and he will…and has…put his own life on the line to protect those people.  He did it to protect newly freed slaves, people whose names he didn’t even know, whose faces he’d never even seen.  And still, he fought.”  She paused, her face introspective, impressed, and dignified.  “He not only dedicated resources towards realizing those ends, he considered the so-called ‘costs’ to be more than justified, their value given willingly and gladly in trade for those slaves, even in light that he committed rare, non-renewable assets for the freedom of thousands.”

Jorya lowered her head, gritting her teeth in memory.  “The Sons…fought.  They fought and died.  They died knowing—knowing—that their lives…their deaths…had not been given in vain.  And even as they willingly did so they never once demanded that anyone else do so, nor did they have any expectations outside what we ourselves as Grey Jedi would require.”  When she looked up, her eyes were watery from unshed tears but her voice was full of passion and confidence.  “The goals of the Sons are the same as us: to be able to live a life worth living.  To have the freedom to choose.  And to be the masters of our own fate.”  She quieted, back straight, and face full of conviction.

The five members of the Council were silent, the weight of Jorya’s words evident in each of their somber faces.  As the Togruta stepped back, Ken took his position in the center of the Council.  He did not immediately speak; not because of any hesitancy but rather so he could best convey his collected thoughts.  The young man’s hazel eyes were vibrant, his posture assured.  Then he began to speak.

“Everything that Jorya said is true.  Every.  Single.  Word.  The Sons are all of those things…and more.”  He gestured to Jorya, giving her a private smile that they both shared before turning his attention back to the five masters.  “I have several concerns about the Sons, some of which I do not have adequate answers for.  They are privately backed by an entity that I am not certain as to what their origins are, much less their motives.  This alone has me concerned but taken together with the fact that the Sons are an army…well, this confirms what intel had speculated…” As he named points, he ticked off his fingers one-by-one.  “…They are a well-supplied, well-informed, private military.”  

Ken let that sink in, his cybernetic hand flexing.  “Masters…I have seen the…brutality that the Sons practice.  I—that is, Jorya and I—were witness to a…an example of the brand of justice that the Sons believe in.”  He inhaled, steeling himself.  “One of the primary objectives that Scrubber…that the Sons…realized was the capture of Myzm III the Hutt.”  That caused some small exclamations.  “Scrubber…no, not’s not the right of it.”  Ken shook his head, saying the last to himself before he regained composure, facing each of the masters in turn.  “I was going to say that he had ‘incited the crowd.’  But he didn’t; in fact Scrubber practiced to the letter exactly what he believed: that those that had been wronged by Myzm should have the responsibility of judging him.”

Ken stood tall among the Council, his face tight in remembrance of that horrible day.  “They—the gathered freed slaves—proclaimed their sentence against the Hutt.  And summarily executed him.”  For a moment Ken was silent.  When next he spoke, his voice rang throughout the Dome, strong and resolute.  “I won’t say that Myzm didn’t deserve it—Maker knows that he did many times over—but…I cannot accept that…that rule of the mob was ‘justice.’”  He exhaled, crossing his arms.  “‘Vengeance,’ definitely.  But…”  He paused, again not from any hesitancy but cognizant of his words.  “I cannot believe that the Sons of Kessel would be laudable or advantageous as an autonomous group as they now operate.  I would not want to see the Mak’Tor associated with—much less allied to—the Sons as they are now.”

Ken stopped speaking, allowing the Council to digest all that he’d related.  He turned to look at Jorya, the Togruta giving an almost imperceptible nod.  He gave her a grim smile, determined for this last part.  “And that is why I must endorse a Mak’Tor alliance with the Sons of Kessel.  But only with the following caveats: our Singers should be allowed to become the de facto Healers of the Sons.  While Jorya and I were there, we saw all of the depravities of war that the Sons suffered as a result as their stand against slavery.”  His light hazel eyes reflected the light as he checked the tears that threatened to flow; not because he was ashamed but in memoriam of the fallen.  As he did so, he remembered a name, one he used as a silent litany testament to the principles of the Sons: …Kruk Treboh…  “That includes treating PTSD.  Jorya and I were only able to help a small fraction of those Sons suffering; our Healers would be a boon.”

Ken paused for a moment, thinking of how best to continue.  “I also think that our Men-At-Arms should be involved in helping.  The Sons have incredible leaders; point of fact, their officers are extraordinary.  But our Men-At-Arms are better.  Put simply: they’ve been doing this for far longer and perfected the logistics of war.  They can not only supplement the Sons, they can improve them.”  Ken then added, almost as an afterthought.  “And that should include any intel that the Mak’Tor have on the Hutts.  While the Sons have an extensive intelligence network, they are not infallible.  There was at least one instance where lives could have been saved given the proper intel…”  Ken’s voice trailed off as he inadvertently relived a vivid, upsetting memory.

During the interim, the Council members began to quietly speak amongst themselves.  Save one; his eyes a piercing blue, Kage Silman Lo stared intently at Ken.  When he spoke, his thoughtful voice cut through the soft clamor.  “It seems to me that you require much of the Mak’Tor, Ken.  And what of the Sons’ opportunity cost for this alliance?”  The Zabrak’s unyielding gaze hammered into Ken’s eyes.  For Ken, this was the crux of his plan, the solution that the young Knight thought would bring balance, not only to the Sons but also with Ken’s hopes…and his obligations.

“In return…the Sons would agree to implementing…‘minimal’ legal framework, the exact extent to be decided by leaders of both the Mak’Tor and the Sons.”  Ken closed his eyes, the memory of Scrubber’s yellow eyes so full of betrayal piercing through him…

“Well…” the Zabrak Kage’s voice boomed throughout the Dome banishing the momentary silence.  “You’ve given us quite a lot to think on, Knight Ken’A’Nia Mack.  I wish to convey the thanks of the Council to yourself as well as Knight Jorya Fah.  We need to—”

Before the Kage could finish, Master Er’Lav Racc spoke, standing as she did so.  “Forgive me Kage for my interruption but…I would like to add my full support as well as…supplementing Knight Ken’A’Nia Mack’s suggestions.”  As Ken and Jorya turned their heads towards the Jedi Master, they both got their first real look at the woman, noticing how much improved she looked from the last time that they’d seen her.  She no longer had the haunted look about her nor did she have sunken, dark eyes.  Instead her posture was straight, her blonde hair healthy and combed in a tight ball held with Zenji needles.  “In fact…I would like to petition the Council and volunteer to act as a liaison between the Mak’Tor and the Sons.”

All five of the Council began to speak in hushed yet passionate tones.  However, when Kage Silman Lo stood, all talking immediately ceasing.  “Master Racc…the fact that Knight Ken’A’Nia Mack’s…suggestions are precisely that, notwithstanding, are you certain that you would prefer to lead such an undertaking?”  The Zabrak’s eyes shone with concern.

Without hesitation, the Gray master nodded.  “Kage, I am…eager for the opportunity.”

The ghost of a smile played upon Kage Silman’s lips, his fierce black-and-red visage softening.  “I understand.  Very well, Master Racc.” He said quietly.  Then louder, he addressed the assemblage formally.  “Knights Ken’A’Nia Mack, Jorya Fah, the Council thanks you for your services.  Now we must deliberate.  I must ask all Jedi to withdraw as the Council makes its decision.”  And with that, the five masters of the Council came together to determine the path of future events.

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 10: Detente, Part II

As Jorya entered her room in the Bachelor’s Quarters, she allowed herself to finally relax.  Now she knew why her Father always looked like that… Absentmindedly, she slowly stroked the pendant that hung around her neck until she realized what she was doing.  Her red lips pursed in determination, she mentally nodded finally making a decision that she’d been vacillating with.  As she sat at the holovid, she keyed in her Ident-code and a number that she’d memorized.  As she waited for the connection, she nervously stroked the hilt of her lightsaber.  Then what seemed like forever, a face appeared floating in front of her belonging to a beautifully handsome Sephi, his purple face shocked when he saw who it was.

“…Jorya!”  The young Sephi smiled winningly, a grin of pleasure spreading across his face.

Her own smile widening as she appreciated the Sephi’s fine-boned features, she purred, “Hi, Stril… I’ve missed you.”  Still stroking her pendant, Jorya’s thumb lovingly rubbed the only picture that she had of the two of them together.

            <<<<< >>>>>

As a chime sounded from the door, R’ylak hopped up from the couch that she’d been relaxing in…well, more “waiting” truth be told.  The Mak’Tor had been polite with her but also unyielding in that she stay in her quarters.  Although she now knew more about Ken’s planet than before courtesy of the datapad that had been provided for her.  …Perhaps Ken and I can go climbing the M’Skigon Mountains… she thought half-jokingly.  And as she went to open the door, it had started becoming more than just an arbitrary consideration.  But when she opened the door, all thoughts left her head when she saw Ken.

He’d changed clothes.  Gone were the practical, fairly bland utilities.  Instead, he had donned some deep gray robes with blue trim that accentuated his lithe yet muscular build, his hair recently cut and neatly coifed.  But his brilliant light hazel eyes were the same; they now shone beautifully in the M’Tzigon afternoon sun.  As soon as he saw her, the familiar grin that she’d come to love had spread across his face.  Self-conscious of the jumpsuit that she still wore, she patted her auburn hair, wishing that she had a comb.

“Ry…I need a favor.  I need for you to trust me.”  He had a mischievous glint in his eyes, his hands hidden in his robes.

Ry stood motionless for a moment, wondering what Ken was about.  “…OK.  Can I ask what this is about, probie?”  As he stepped behind her, her mind ran amok with what Ken could possibly be doing.  He paused, his smile deepening.

“Like my dad says: ‘you can ask.’”  As he spoke, he withdrew a length of dark cloth.  “Ry…trust me.”  His breath tickled the back of her neck, his quiet voice a soothing melody in her ear.

Slowly, she nodded her head.  “I do, Ken.”  She felt more than heard him as his robes rustled gently.  Feeling his lips on the nape of her neck, her stomach had butterflies from first his kiss and then from the makeshift blindfold that he gently tied around her eyes.  Not exactly nervous, she made an attempt to lighten the mood.  “Oh, so that’s what you’re into probie?”  She heard him appreciatively laugh.

“Just…trust me Ry.  Hold my hand; I won’t let you go.”  Without being able to see, Ry’s other senses took center stage.  The air had a cool, refreshing chill while M’Tzigon’s star felt comfortably warm upon her skin.  Following Ken as he gently pulled her, she could hear the sound of quiet repulsor lifts as they hummed to life.  Meanwhile, she swayed slightly as she encountered various turns as inertia took effect from each correction.  True to his word, Ken never once let go.  

She knew that he had pulled her up into a speeder of some kind and that they were flying some distance but beyond that… The cold, soothing wind caught her hair, pulling it from the braid that she had tied it in.  They must have ascended quiet a distance in altitude; she could smell the difference in the chill air, a clean, piney scent surrounding her.  Soon, she heard the hum of repulsors again as the speeder came to rest.  Once again Ken had proven his skills as an expert pilot; she hadn’t even felt the landing.  As before, he gently pulled her hand while his other rested upon her shoulder.

“OK Ry…look.” His voice was soft yet full of warmth, his strong hands upon her hips.  And when she removed the blindfold, she was grateful for his grip upon her.

Spread out before them in a vast panorama was the entire Arvon Vale, the M’Skigon and M’H’Ron Mountains Ranges flanking each side, the various strata of M’Tzigon granite a panoply of differing shades, hues, and scintillating colors as the sunlight caught individual nooks and crannies.  The sun stood low on the horizon, back-lighting the majestic mountains as it slowly sank in the sky, turning the clear blue of day into the purple and orange of afternoon dusk.  And from their vantage, Ken and Ry could see for miles across the alpine planet, the mountainous terrain in perfect contrast to the enormous sky above their heads.

“Ry…” Ken’s strong, quiet voice came from behind her; Ry had never heard that tone from him before.  Turning slowly, she felt both eager and apprehensive as she focused entirely on the young man that she’d come to love.  He knelt before her on one knee, his back straight with his arm held out.  Reflecting a blinding flash from the sun, Ry noticed that he held something in his fingers.  Looking closer, she saw that it was a ring.  Made of Songsteel, the smoky metal shone in the light of sunset, the burnished metal smooth and polished.   Centered on the wrap-around, duel bands, a .75 carat adegan fragment cut in a marquee design scintillated, the clear stone casting brilliant blue and lavender highlights from its heart.  Ry’s mouth dropped, her hands touching her flushed lips as she stared intently at the ring and what she knew it entailed.

“Yar'lyakomm'tla…” Ken used Ry’s full Chiss name.  “…Will you marry me?”  His intent hazel eyes shone in the light of the setting sun as he stared deeply into Ry’s own glowing red eyes, the radiant look on his face having little to do with M’Tzigon’s star.

And as Ry threw herself at Ken, almost knocking him over, she gave a deep throaty laugh.  “Yes!  Yes, Ken’A’Nia Mack!”  She showered his face with kisses before her lips found his, kissing him deeply.  After sometime, she rested her head on his chest, breathless.  “Yes…”

            <<<<< >>>>>

The night on Teth III—Aestis Minor to the Sons—was completely dark, moonless and black.  Deep in the Eurydicen Base, Black Armor entered a room and he and he alone knew of.  Arranged around the dark room were black items that looked as if they’d been carved from crystallized obsidian, only no force known in the entire galaxy could break them, save but to a few.  Within his hand was a completely black orb, identical to several orbs that rested upon a dais in the center of the room.

But this orb was different, not because of any physical disparity but rather due to what it contained.  Before Black Armor locked the orb in place, he activated it using no button, lever, or switch; only the aether could initiate the orb’s functions.  And within this one was the collected thoughts, memories, and knowledge of Ken’A’Nia Mack, gathered during the trial, unbeknownst to everyone.  After briefly perusing the orb’s content, Black Armor deactivated it, silently placing it upon the dais next to the physically identical others.

Pausing a moment to acclimate the new resource, Black Armor turned and disappeared into the shadows, the only evidence of his passing was the darkened almost-glow from the orb that Black Armor left.

[Lord_S_Gray]

But…but…what does the council decide!!!! Can’t be over till we find that out!

I liked the reference back to Kruk in Ken’s evidence, shows just how deeply it has effect him…his proposal is a reasonable one…but I think they overestimate their ability to change reality on the ground…even if the outpost some advisors, are they really going to stand in front of a group of angry slaves and say no you can’t attack the person who beat/raped you for years you have to wait for a trial?  Yet if they just offer healers they are closing their eyes to that…it’s a very interesting moral conundrum for the Mak’Tor I think…

Ken proposing to Ry…interesting…I would be slightly worried that given they got together in an emotionally charged situation they might find the dynamic between them changes in a more peaceful situation…let alone any family issues Ry might have…

And the Orb…yeah Ken has just given away a lot more than he could ever imagine I think...

[Karmack]

Nicely done!  I loved the mountain-top proposal.  Absolutely stunning! 

As for the council's decision...  I feel a post-script coming on...  :-)

[Illyiss]

Doing the right thing, the only way they can, figuring it out as they go, the Sons of Kessel struggle to make a difference, amid swirling moralities, confused by the pasts they have each endured.  The choice, to recommend avoiding, opposing, or allying with the Sons, one clouded, as lost as a butterfly in fog.  Ken and Jorya cut through the mists, and find a way not put before them, one that allows the Mak'Tor to be a part of making certain that the Sons do not make themselves into enemies, and still aid them in serving their noble cause that much more effectively.  Truly, a chess match well played, and now all that is left is for the council to choose the wisest answer...

[Karmack]

Epilogue

The Wayfarer knifed effortlessly through the atmosphere of Aestis Minor - the Mak'Tor charts still said Teth III - and settled on the pad.  They'd been cleared for a landing in "Rook" hanger, surrounded by fighter cradles and support equipment.  I did a quick visual scan of the bay, confirming the accuracy of Ken's descriptions of the place.  It felt familiar, as if I'd been here before...

"We are down. Done with engines." Arnor announced from the helm.

"Engineering secured.  Deploying ramp.  We'll be ready to disembark in two minutes."  I locked down my board and rose, smoothing my robes.  "Showtime..."

Arnor, dressed in her normal casual garb, just grinned. "That's why they pay you the big bucks!"

Rather than reply I just stuck my tongue out at her and walked through the corridor back to the conference lounge.  Er'Lav Racc was there, along with Doctors Logan Gray and Jaimie Wolfe.  Gray was fifty years old and one of the three strongest healers among the Mak'Tor healer corps.  He'd spent several years teaching adepts but the recent loss of his wife had left him longing for a change.  When the council adopted some of Ken's recommendations and asked for a volunteer to lead a medical mission to the Sons of Kessel he wasted no time volunteering.  Assuming the Sons - or rather, Scrubber - accepted their presence he would have a full-scale clinic set up in a week with a half-dozen healers and twice that many adepts.

Er'Lav's mission was more complex.  If the Sons accepted the medical mission Er'Lav would serve as a liason to Scrubber, coordinating with his own medical staff, arranging for supplies and getting the access needed for the Mak'Tor to maintain supplies that the Sons could not acquire.  She would also be intregal to the second part of the offer - limited military aid.

I felt my face twitch as I thought back over the Council's debate.  There was much suspicion and caution, but in the end Silman Lo had presided over a unanimous vote to extend aid, both medical and military, to the Sons as well as assistance in developing and creating a working constitutional government on Aestis Minor.  This last would pave the way for full diplomatic recognition and dialogue, hopefully leading to a formal treaty and eventually the development of a local ally and friend.

The civilain Council, however, had not been as enthusiastic.  While they appreciated the Mak'Tor's leadership and initiative they were less than enthusiastic about the level of contact initiated by the Knights.  They had made long and eloquent arguments explaining why formal military and political aid could not be freed up at this time.  They'd even balked at simple medical aid, but Kage Lo had solved that problem by simply making it an internal Mak'Tor matter and dispatching the medical team from the Mak'Tor's internal resources.

What they HAD secured was limited aid.  The M'Tzigon defense force Men-At-Arms were directed to pass any information on Hutt activity to Telow'na, who would forward it to Er'Lav Racc and on to Scrubber.  In addition the Men-At-Arms would begin conducting anti-slavery operations in support of the Mak'Tor Order, and would be instructed to aid any Son's units who used a specific transponder code.

I had that code and some other ... tidbits ... from Telow'na as well as a proposal requesting landing and refueling rights on Aestis Minor in exchange for help from the Mak'Tor order.  One thing we'd all agreed on: the scourge of slavery needed to end, and it was time for the Mak'Tor to take a more aggressive stance.

"Ready?"

Er'Lav nodded, pulling her hood up over her head.  "Ready, Karm.  Just ... nervous.  The last time I saw Scrubber, he had his goons shove me naked into an airlock."

I grinned back at her, also raising my hood.  "Well, this time they should be far more polite.  Doctor?"  I gestured toward the ramp, now deployed, where we could just see a welcoming delegation approaching the ship.

I led our small party down the ramp, maintaining a slow and steady gate. Even now the Jedi had an aura of mystery and power around them.  Er'Lav and I had donned our formal robes to access that aura.

First impressions matter.

We'd already exchanged electronic messages and while Scrubber had insisted on meeting face-to-face he had indicated that he was inclined to agree to the package we'd presented.  So the appearance of almost a hundred armored troopers in full battle dress carrying charric weapons didn't really disturb me.

Much.

Scrubber waited for us to clear the ramp and enter the open area in front of his honor guard before smiling and advancing himself to meet us.  "Welcome!  I am happy to meet you, Master Karmack."

I bowed formally then grasped his offered hand in a firm clasp.  "It is good to meet you face-to-face, Scrubber.  Let me introduce you to my colleagues."  I turned to my right.  "This is Doctor Logan Gray, one of our most experienced healers.  With your permission, Dr. Gray will lead our medical efforts.  And this," I turned to my left, "Is Master Er'Lav Racc.  She will serve as liason to you and your command team as well as coordinating any comings and goings of Mak'Tor personnel on Aestis Minor."

Scrubber shook the doctor's hand and then grasped Er'Lav's hand as well. His head tipped to the side as his gaze penetrated the veil of her hood. "Master Er'Lav ... have we met?"

Er'Lav pushed back her hood, fully revealing her features.  "I was aboard the Olios when you took it."

Scrubber's face scrunched in thought and then his eyes widened slightly.  "Oh.  I ... see."

Er'Lav smiled and patted his hand with hers.  "Yes.  I wanted to thank you for rescuing me.  If you had not intervened, I would most likely be dead now."

Scrubber, obviously remembering the whole story and tense for it, visibly relaxed.  "Yes.  Well, we do what we can." His face broke into a grin.  "And it is always a pleasure to see on our sires and sirras return to the fold!"  He turned back to me.  "I trust that Jorya, R'ylack and Ken made it back safely?"

I nodded.  "Yes.  Ken and Ry are engaged to be married.  Assuming they haven't already found a cleric willing to perform the ceremony for them and already taken care of it."

Scrubber nodded.  "Yes, he was certainly ... decisive."  His eyes narrowed again as I also lowered my hood.  "You're related to him, yes?  I can see the resemblance."

"He is my son." I replied, keeping my tone and body language perfectly neutral.  Lets see how he reacts...

A nervous twitch passed over Scrubber's features but he only tugged on his lekku briefly and grinned again.  "A remarkable young man.  It was ... unfortunate ... how his tenure here ended."

I could sense the sincerity in him ... and the conflict.  We were right, sending Ken back would have been a bad idea.  Ken and Ry had both wanted to return as part of the Mak'Tor delegation.  We'd decided against that, and once he and R'ylak were settled...  Well, they would be busy elsewhere.  "Ken regrets it as well."

"I know." Scrubber's face held true sorrow for a moment, but then the jovial mask returned.  "But enough of the past! Let us discuss the future.  Please, come to my office and we'll hammer out the details..."

I fell in beside him, feeling his dynamic charisma tempered by a solid hold on reality and fueled by a very deep-seated determination born in his own experiences.  What I did not feel was any trace of hatred.  Anger, yes.  Fury, even.  But not hate. 

And as we began our final negotiations I relaxed a little inside.  Without hate, this could work."

   <<<<<  >>>>>

Three days later we were accelerating away from Aestis Minor a smaller and far lighter ship.  The Wayfarer had long ago ceased to be a simple cargo ship, but we'd been packed to the gills with medical supplies and equipment for the Mak'Tor healing mission now taking up residence with the Sons.  All we had left were Arnor and myself, our personal gear, three droids and three of the latest DCC units still in the hold.

Just like the old days...

Arnor was again flying the ship while I handled engineering and the sensor systems.  "Damn."

"What?"  Arnor swivelled away.  The last obstacle to leaving the system, the massive gas giant, was sliding astern of us. 

"I was hoping for a glimpse of Ken's 'ghost ship'."  I leaned back.  "Nothing."

Arnor turned back to her board, inputing hyperspace coordinates.  "Did you really think you'd see them?" 

I sighed.  "No.  But I would have liked to get a look.  Or a closer look at Black Armor."  The warrior, ever-present when Ken and Jorya had been on-base, had not been in evidence.  A discrete inquiry had yeilded the response "On a mission".  In the interest of diplomacy I hadn't pushed the issue.  But now...  Part of me wished I had.  I let out another sigh and shook my head.  "Its an imperfect galaxy I guess. Coordinates set?"

"Yep.  Ready to make the jump to light speed."

"OK, lets go."  I relaxed in my chair as Arnor throttled up and the Wayfarer leaped forward into the swirling blue tunnel of the hyperspace effect.  We had time - it would take us several days to work our way around the outer rim - but our primary mission still lay ahead of us.

Find Mellichae and recover the Ancient One.

Two of us, against who knows how many Sith Shadows... I smiled, a deadly light playing in my eyes as I watched hyperspace swirl past.

Pity them...

[TheDutchman]

What a wonderful ending to such an enjoyable collaboration!

Glad to see Karm be able to secure what Ken and Jorya worked so much to facilitate.  As with most things in life, a compromise to be sure but hopefully a mutually beneficial one between the Mak'Tor and the Sons 

Seriously: special props go out to LSG and Karm for making this happen!  There were really great twists, turns, and pathos!

PS I ALMOST feel sorry for Mellichae...almost...maybe... 

[Karmack]

In the words of Ka'a'Mack - "He's mine..."

:-)

SUPER PROPS to LSG.  Dutchman and I wrote the chapters, but LSG actually did most of the story-boarding some time ago.  Without his skeleton this story probably wouldn't have happened.  Thanks LSG! 

[Lord_S_Gray]

To be fair I only gave a very broad storyline you guys brought it to life in ways I would never have imagined with amazing details and some brilliant written visuals...Ken and The, the hustle with Jorya..taking 2 ISDs...and hanging a Hutt! Best series yet I reckon!

Is this an ending? Or a new beginning for the Mak'tor? Have to say even in the ending there is a hint of disquiet re conflict with the civilian government...sounds like Silman basically sidestepped them...within his rights to do so...but it might rankle if it happens again...

BA wasn't there to meet Karmack...or was he...or was someone less dominanting...